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moonflowerdamie · 5 months

Text

the injury of finally knowing you

Word Count: 7.9k

Title from 'Unknown/Nth' by Hozier

*****

You’re frozen. Sabine is skewered on the end of a guttering orange lightsaber, her eyes wide in shock and pain, immobilised, and you’re frozen.

You’d heard her distress call, you and Ahsoka both, and had come as quickly as you could. You’d both drawn your sabers—the blue of yours with the white of your master’s lighting up the interior of the rattling ship—before Huyang had even opened the drop-doors. Ready to fight, ready for action.

And then Sabine’s assailant had turned in the headlights and you’d turned to stone.

It’s been years—years—and her hair is different, her frame taller and leaner, but you know those eyes. You’d know them anywhere.

“Shin.” You breathe, and you feel something you thought was dead reawaken in your chest.

She meets your eyes for a split-second, fear and anger and brief recognition flashing across her face, before she turns tail and runs.

She doesn’t look back.

*****

Once Sabine is stabilised in the medbay on Lothal, Ahsoka finds you.

“You knew her.” You look up from your hands. Your master leans against the door to Sabine’s room, staring at you with an unreadable expression. You hate it when she does that; it makes you feel scrutinised, like the Togruta is peeling back the layers of your skin, staring at your very essence.

“The mercenary.” She prompts after a moment of silence. You sigh. Though the conversation was almost certainly inevitable, you’d hoped it could wait until after Sabine was up and about again; she was a pain in the ass, but your best friend, and you’d always dealt with things better when she was around. Things, this time, being the sudden reappearance of a girl you’d thought was lost to you.

“I do. I used to, anyway.”

Ahsoka stays quiet but raises an eyebrow. Go on, she gestures.

“Back on Aris, my home planet—before I got out—Shin was…” you trail off. How do you even begin to describe what you and Shin were to each other? Barely teenagers, you’d found one another in the dusty underworld of your shithole of a planet. Both orphans, friendless, starving, you’d stuck together, first for convenience and necessity, and then, after trust was built and connection found, for companionship. She’d been your only light in the darkness of your life, and you the same for her.

My sunshine, that’s what she used to call you. With that achingly fond smile, the one that made your heart skip and your hands shake. She’d brush her hands against your cheek, brush lips against your temple, and then you’d share the food you’d both scavenged for the day, huddled together for warmth in some back alley or abandoned building.

What had you been to each other? Something undefined, something unable to be put into words. You’d sunk desperate teeth into one another, searching for survival, searching for a home neither of you had anymore. She stuck to the back of your teeth even now, over a decade later. How on earth could you compress what Shin had been to you into something understandable?

“Shin was my friend.” Is what you settle on, averting your eyes, swallowing harshly. “We hung around together when we were kids. Scavenged food, kept each other out of trouble.”

“What happened?” Your master asks and you wince at the memory of what came next.

“There was a man. Baylan, he said his name was. Came to us both one night saying he could…he could sense us. The Force, I mean.” You bring your hands together in your lap and take a breath, fighting to keep your voice steady. “He said he wanted to train us, to—to help us, and…”

You still remember the look on Shin’s face, how her eyes had glimmered as Baylan spoke of freedom, of power beyond your wildest dreams. You feel sick even now, just thinking of it.

“He offered to get us out. To take us with him, away from Aris. I…I didn’t trust him. He felt—dark. But Shin, she didn’t listen when I told her something was up with him.”

You had fought that night, your first and only fight. Shin was frustrated that you couldn’t see the opportunity Baylan was offering, and you were afraid. Afraid of what would become of you if you went with this stranger. Afraid of the girl you knew—the girl you loved—being changed into something she wasn’t. And so—

“Shin left. She went with Baylan, and I stayed on Aris for a few more years. Then, made my way to you. I never saw her again. Until last night.”

You’re trembling by the end of your story, and Ahsoka places a gentle hand on your shoulder. Heart clenching, you swallow back the lump in your throat. Pull it together.

“She had a padawan braid.” Sitting up, swiping a hand down your face, you focus up. Ahsoka nods.

“Which means she’s probably taking the map to her master—to Baylan.”

“We have to get it back, Master.”

“We do. We will.”

*****

The next time you see Shin, she tries to kill you.

Sabine and Ahsoka are occupied with the other one, with his full-face mask and spinning double-saber, leaving you to chase after her.

You call her name through the trees that seem to cover half the surface of Seatos, and when she stops running and turns to face you, there’s a wildness in her eyes that takes the breath from your lungs.

“Shin.” You say again, voice soft, panting from your race through the forest. Her jaw ticks at the sound of her name, hands clenched in fists by her sides. You take a step towards her, hoping for—you don’t even know what you were hoping for—and then her lightsaber ignites and comes swinging at you.

You manage to dodge her strike, heart cracking as you grab your own weapon and ignite the blue blade, not even getting a chance to decide if you really want to do this—if you really will fight her, the girl you once rested your head upon, who once called you sunshine with adoration in her eyes—before she’s attacking again, lightsaber arcing towards your head.

You catch the swing and hold it, grunting in effort as she bears down. Your faces are inches apart, lit by the glow of your weapons, and a warring plethora of emotions rage against your ribcage.

A part of you wants to step back, to sheath your blade and plead with her. You want to tell her you were wrong not to go with her, that she was wrong to leave—that no matter what, you should’ve stayed together, because she had been your only family for years and you had loved her and—fuck—you love her now, even still, after all this time.

But this is not the Shin you once knew. This girl, with snarling, snapping teeth and feral eyes, she is not the girl you once called home. She is changed, just as you feared she would be, and you sense that if you try to reason with her, she will simply run you through, just as she did Sabine.

So, you grit your teeth. Push back against her and send her stumbling back a step. And when you collide again, both of you have murder in your eyes.

The fighting is brutal and quick; Shin is clearly well-trained and you barely manage to parry her strikes, using all your energy to keep yourself in the battle. Your blades clash and hum angrily, lighting up the clearing as you charge each other.

You’re not sure you’d have survived if not for Ahsoka and Sabine taking out Shin’s accomplice. Your knees are close to buckling, arms shaking violently as Shin’s head whips around to see her masked partner dissolve in a burst of green smoke. Shock is evident on her face, lips parting and eyes widening, and she steps away from you. Your arms drop to your sides, breath escaping you in wheezes and coughs.

There’s a moment then, where you see the chance: her attention is drawn, she’s distracted; you could just kill her now, one clean slice, and be rid of her. But you know the way she haunts you—her memory has lingered for over a decade now, slicking your gums, nestling in your bones. Death would not keep her away.

Besides, some stupid part of you still has hope. Hope that, one day, she will smile at you again, call you sunshine in that lilting accent of hers, and you will finally come home to each other.

That day seems a long way off when she turns back to you, fury boiling over in her eyes, before throwing a smoke bomb at your feet and racing away.

*****

Ahsoka goes over the cliff, Sabine hands over the map to Baylan, and all in all, it could’ve gone better.

Now, you’re sitting in a holding cell—bare, apart from the solid metal ledge you suppose counts as a bed—with your hands bound and your head absolutely pounding, flying on a giant golden ring through hyperspace towards perhaps the one man with the power to restart the Empire. Outnumbered, outgunned, and fresh out of ideas. Fucking brilliant.

You’re leaning back with your eyes shut and your head on the cool metal of the cell, trying to alleviate your headache, when the door to your prison slides open with a hiss.

You don’t open your eyes. You can sense her now, feel her presence—both of you now being strong with the Force is probably to blame for that extra fun little sixth sense.

“What do you want?” You ask flatly. Defeated, exhausted and more than a little angry, you want to be left alone.

Shin doesn’t answer, but you hear her step into the room, the door sliding shut behind her.

You sigh and open your eyes, staring defiantly up at her as she lingers by the entrance. She’s watching you, eyes intense but also curious. Her lightsaber hangs from her belt, a visible threat, but you don’t feel anger coming from her like you did on Seatos. The air sizzles with unspoken words and thick tension.

“Y/N.” She finally speaks, and it feels like a relief to hear your name rounded by her voice after so many years. It seems to catch between her teeth though, uncertain, and you huff out a mirthless laugh.

“So you do remember me.”

“Of course I remember you.” She almost spits, that familiar fury bubbling under her tone, and you raise an eyebrow. You see her swallow, eyelids fluttering, reigning herself in.

“It’s been a while.” You remark, unsure of what to do. She has all the power here; you’re on her ship, shackled in her prison, weaponless, armourless, defenceless. Yet somehow you feel her wavering. She seems just as uncertain as you, just as…lost.

She inclines her head in agreement and takes a step forward, saying nothing. You keep quiet too, for no other reason than you simply do not know what to say. What can you say? To Shin, what can even be said? ‘You have changed and it scares me but somehow you still keep a piece of my heart’? ‘You left me and it damn near killed me, but god you’re so pretty it hurts’? No, you can say none of it, none of how you feel, so you stay silent.

“You’re a Jedi now.” She ventures after a while and you shrug.

“I guess. I’m not fully trained yet, plus Ahsoka isn’t technically a Jedi, so.”

Another stretch of silence.

“What’s it like?”

You cock your head in confusion. Shin looks smaller now, more vulnerable, and it baffles you. Angers you too. She has you locked up in here, comes to see you of her own free will after god knows how many years apart, just to..what? Make small talk? Fuck that.

“What’s it like? You left me, left me stranded on that hellhole without a second thought, tried to kill me and have taken me prisoner and you come here to ask what training to be a Jedi is like?” You say, venom in your tone, hands clenching into fists as rage climbs the ladder of your ribcage.

Shin starts towards you, eyebrows furrowing. Her mouth opens to reply but you cut her off, lost to the currents of your rising anger.

“We were supposed to stick together, Shin, that was how it worked. I needed you and you needed me and we survived together.” You rise from your seat, blood roaring in your ears, heart pounding as all the hurt, all the confusion and the pain and the anger comes flooding out of you.

“I told you not to go with him and you didn’t listen.” You take a step towards her. She is motionless, eyes stuck on you. “I told you not to leave me, and you did it anyway.” You’re getting louder, losing control. You’re barely a metre apart now, your chest heaving as she watches you.

You step into her personal space, inches apart.

“You told me we’d stay together no matter what and you fucking lied. You abandoned me.”

Shin, who has been silent throughout your little rant, finally reacts, mouth drawing into a thin line as you practically corner her against the wall.

“I didn’t abandon you.” She whispers, and her voice is hurt. It surprises you enough to suck in a quick breath, eyes darting about her face. “We were both supposed to go with Baylan. You were supposed to come too.”

It feels like your heart is crumbling to dust as you stare at her, realising the pain she’s in. You can see her clearly, can see the girl you knew hiding behind a hard mask of stoic indifference. She’s still there, just tucked away behind anger and hurt and suffering, and it feels like breathing for the first time to know it.

“Shin.” You breathe, wanting to reach for her but your hands are bound; wanting to run from her but the door is locked. All you can do is stare, try to convey everything you’re feeling with the weight you put on her name.

The moment is broken by the communications panel of her vambrace beeping loudly and insistently. You step back, dazed, blinking and trying to come back to yourself. Shin seems similarly disarmed, shaking her head and clearing her throat before looking down at the message. She furrows her brow. You want to ask her what’s wrong, want to ask her to stay. But you don’t get the chance. She taps a response out, the door to the cell opens, and she leaves without a word.

After she’s gone, the door closed behind her again, you slump back against the wall. Your mind is spinning, heart twisting itself into knots. You don’t know what you’re going to do now—Shin is technically the enemy, and her master killed your master, but she is also the girl you loved, the girl you love, and you feel light-headed with all the complications.

You slide to the ground, rest your head against your knees. You’re fucked and you know it.

*****

Peridea is beautiful, in its own deserted, haunting way. The Noti take you in, and Ezra is going home, Ahsoka is alive and Sabine seems to be making her own peace, and yet you remain restless.

It’s not just being stuck in an unreachable galaxy, far away from everything you’ve ever known, whilst a warlord capable of unspeakable evil speeds away to destroy all you worked to rebuild—though it’s certainly not helping.

Aside from that, you’re restless. And you know why.

You can still feel her.

After the fight, after Ahsoka offered her hand and Shin ran, you’d assumed that would be the last of it. She’d isolate herself on some remote corner of the planet and starve, and you’d finally find some measure of peace. But no.

She’s there—barely—but there all the same. At the edge of your awareness, tiptoeing on the borders of your consciousness. Her presence is hazy, cloudy, but undeniable. You don’t know if she’s a mile away or hundreds, but she’s there. Her confusion, her anger, her desperation…it’s all buzzing just out of reach, millimetres from your fingertips, and you’re not sure if you want to grasp for it or shove it away. You try both. Neither works.

The days roll on and you fall into a routine of sorts: you wake with the sun, spar with Sabine, help out with chores around camp; you meditate with Ahsoka, practice your lightsaber forms and sleep when the moon rises. All of it is permeated by that tickle in the back of your brain, that sense, her.

You know your friends notice the distance in your eyes—both Ahsoka and Sabine approach you separately to ask what’s bothering you, but you give them the same non-answer: ‘I’m just worried about home.’ You can tell neither of them believe you, but thankfully, neither of them push the issue.

You’re sure you’d have gone mildly insane with it, had she not shown up that night.

*****

The hand slapped over your mouth jolts you from a turbulent sleep, and your eyes widen in shock as you immediately begin to squirm, trying to throw your attacker off. It’s dark out, with only the stars lighting the sky, and your eyes haven’t adjusted yet, so you can’t see your assailant.

Panic rises in your chest, heart pounding as you try to yell, only for the sound to get muffled by the gloved fingers curling over your lips. You toss and turn, slapping at the arm of your attacker, trying to bite their fingers, kick them, claw them, anything.

“Shh, shh, stop it. It’s me, it’s me.” The person hisses, alarmed, and your body goes slack with a mixture of shock and relief.

“…Shin?” You whisper once the hand is removed from your mouth. You blink rapidly, and Shin’s face comes into focus above yours. Her eyes are wide and frantic, dirt smudged across her cheeks. She looks wild, looks skittish, and you can’t even begin to describe how you’re feeling.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” Is what comes out of your mouth after you’ve composed yourself a little, sitting up quickly, narrowly avoiding headbutting her.

She shuffles backwards and her eyes dart to the ground, like she hadn’t expected the question. That pisses you off to no end—she fucking snuck into your camp in the dead of night, like some kind of predator, and now she has the audacity to look sheepish?!

“Seriously, Shin, start talking, or I swear to—”

“I didn’t know where else to go.”

Her voice is small, weak, and it’s just then that you notice the way her left arm is hanging, slack and limp, by her side. Blood covers her armour and sleeve, some dried and some still dripping, and immediately your brows furrow.

“What happened?” Your tone is low and concerned, and you reach for her hand without even thinking about it. She flinches away and you draw your hand back quick as lightning. You mutter an apology under your breath.

“Bandits. I tried to join them…to rule them, but they mutinied. I wasn’t quick enough. One of them got me with their sword.”

There’s pain in her voice now, and it’s clear to you that she’s struggling. She wouldn’t have come to you unless she really needed help.

Part of you wants to turn her away. Wants to tell her to get lost and to stay the hell away from you; there’s still a lot of unresolved tension between the two of you, with your history both old and recent. She’d abandoned you. She’d tried to kill you, for heaven’s sake.

But, looking into her eyes, you see that girl you knew on Aris. You see Shin, your Shin, and you know you can’t leave her like this. You sigh. Stand up and jut your chin towards the log settlement around the fire in the middle of camp.

“Come on, then.” You start walking, not waiting for her to follow. You start gathering the supplies you’ll need to clean and wrap her wound, and when you turn back around, you see Shin sat by the fire, warming her hands. It’s pitiful and endearing in equal amounts, and you shake your head to try and rid yourself of those soft-rounded thoughts.

Once you have everything you need, you take a seat next to her. Her eyes dart your way, a flicker of…something glimmering deep within them, but you can’t afford to overanalyse right now—not with how blood still drips from Shin’s fingers, how she has started to shiver.

“I need to touch you to help you.” You murmur, warning her, and she nods faintly in return, turning back to face the fire. The flames cast a warm glow over her cheeks, making her seem softer. That biting edge, that snarling fury you’ve come to know of her seems a distant memory as you begin to cut away her sleeve, being mindful not to nick her skin or graze the wound.

A quiet sigh of relief escapes your lips once you finally see the full extent of the wound; it’s a deep cut—you can see where the sword bit into her arm, swung likely with a fair amount of force—and it’s probably causing Shin a decent amount of pain, but it doesn’t look like it’ll cause lasting damage. It’ll almost definitely scar, but she’ll heal. She’ll be alright.

You’re not sure why that makes you feel so much quieter inside.

The process of cleaning her arm is methodical, relaxing. You lose yourself in it for a while. Silence settles over the two of you like a comfortable blanket, enveloping you in a world of your own, and you haven’t felt this peaceful since before Lothal.

Surprisingly, it’s Shin who speaks first. You’ve applied some bacta to the cut, wiped the blood and grime away, and you’re just waiting for her to bolt—the job finished, your services no longer required—when she opens her mouth.

“Baylan abandoned me.”

The words are measured, quiet, but you can hear the betrayal and the hurt seeping into her tone. You swallow, unsure of what to say, but she continues before you can start rambling.

“He said he could sense something here. A great power, greater than the witches. He told me to kill you, Sabine and Ezra, then join Thrawn. Then he was just…gone.”

Shin’s lower lip is trembling, eyes glazing over, and an ache of sympathy pangs in your chest. The bond between a Master and a Padawan is almost unbreakably strong—to have it shut off like that, cut so abruptly, must be agony. You felt a little of it when you thought Ahsoka was dead, and you know that if she actually were to perish, or, Makers forbid, abandon you, you would feel it like a knife through the heart.

“Shin, I—” You start, but she cuts you off, head turning to face you, and you see clearly the tear sliding down her cheek.

“He was like my father.” And there is rage now, undercutting her sorrow. “Why did he leave me?”

It’s a question you cannot answer. Yet she looks at you with such desperation, like you’re her anchor as she is tossed about by towering waves, that you wish so gravely that you could.

You don’t know what compels you then—she had flinched back when you tried before—but she looks so angry, so sad, so broken, that you reach for her. To your surprise, she meets you halfway, collapsing into your arms, burying her head in your shoulder. You wrap your arms around her, let her cry silent tears as your heart beats out of your chest.

Holding Shin, feeling her pressed up against you, is something you haven’t had in a very long time. It takes you back to a simpler time, to nights snuggled together for warmth; to blushing smiles and brushing hands and eyes that looked like home. It breaks open something you’d buried and tears of your own gather in the corners of your eyes.

She pulls away after what feels like seconds, like an eternity, and clears her throat, swiping harshly at her eyes. You feel cold almost immediately, the absence of her touch chilling your skin.

“Sorry.” She mutters gruffly and you shake your head, waving her off. The air between the two of you is changed now, somewhat awkward but still charged.

“What are you going to do now?” You venture to ask after a moment. It’s a valid question; after all, Thrawn and his ship are gone, Baylan is off on his mysterious quest and the bandits (whatever’s left of them) have made clear that Shin isn’t welcome with them. Her future seems highly uncertain.

“I don’t know.” She replies, shifting uncomfortably. Clearly she hadn’t thought about what came next after you’d patched her up. “I can’t go back to the bandits.”

“Yeah, no shit.” You murmur and she chuckles, a low sound from the back of her throat, and it brings a smile to your face. Quiet falls between the two of you again.

In the silence, in the gaps between your breaths, an idea starts to take root. It’s stupid and illogical and entirely driven by your nonsensical heart, but once it plants itself, it grows and grows and grows, until it covers every corner of your mind like ivy.

“You could…stay?” And it’s out of your mouth before you can catch it. Your own eyes widen in surprise at what you’ve just suggested; Shin is the enemy. She’s tried to kill you, had damn near killed Sabine, has hunted you and hurt you. There’s a darkness in her that almost scares you, and she is so far from the girl you once knew, but she isn’t at the same time. She’s Shin, feral and furious, but still Shin, all the same. You look in her eyes, and you still see home.

You lost her once. You won’t lose her again.

“With us, I mean.” You carry on, confidence seeping into your voice as you fall more in love with the idea. “Ahsoka already offered and the Noti would appreciate the extra help.”

Shin’s expression is unreadable. It almost throws you off, but you’ve convinced yourself of this now, and you won’t let her go unpersuaded.

“Stay? Why?” She asks, seeming genuinely curious, as if weighing her options.

“Because you have nowhere else to go. Because you’d have somewhere to sleep here, somewhere to feel safe. Because we have food and water.” You quiet your voice. “Because I’m asking you to.”

Her eyes meet yours at this last sentence, and you think you see something akin to hope blazing in their depths.

Your pulse is hammering as she looks at you. You’ve laid yourself bare, made yourself vulnerable, and your heart is in the palm of her hands. Should she so choose, she could crush it, turn it to bloody pulp between her fingers. The thought of it scares you. But not as much as the thought of her leaving again.

“You want me to stay?” She whispers, voice raw. Her body language is open, fully turned to face you, hands by her sides, eyes wide and searching. She looks, for a second, just as she did the night you first met: shaking, terrified but hopeful, wanting help, wanting a friend, wanting to put down the weight of the world and to just breathe.

The moment feels monumental; make or break. She has your heart in her hands, as you believe you might well have hers.

“I want you to stay.” You whisper back, and with her bashful nod, something inside you knits itself back together.

*****

Sabine is sceptical, to say the least.

Ok, she’s downright furious. Understandable, the rational part of you whispers as your friend draws her saber, she did try to kill her.

“Sabine, please, just listen.” You start, a hand out to placate your angry companion as she stares murderously at the woman standing behind you.

“What the fuck is she doing here.” She spits, eyes narrow and blazing. Ahsoka stands off to the side, arms crossed over her chest, expression unreadable. You sort of wish she’d intervene—after all, she had been the first to offer Shin a place with your group, surely this is what she wanted? But she remains impassive, watching on as you try to talk your best friend down from attacking the silver-haired mercenary.

“It’s ok, I promise. She won’t hurt any of us. Right, Shin?” You call over your shoulder, not taking your eyes off Sabine in case she tries to go for her.

“Right.” Her monotone voice decidedly does not fill you with confidence, and Sabine takes another step towards the two of you.

“Hey, hey, stop.” You raise your voice, panic seeping into your tone. “She’s alone. Baylan left her, the bandits attacked her. She has nowhere else to go.”

“So leave her to it then. Let her rot, what do you care?” Sabine snarls, and you feel Shin’s anger pulse. You try to project calmness into the air, trying to push it both ways between the two women on either side of you. You’re not sure it’s working. Ahsoka, for the love of everything that’s sacred, please step in.

“We have a history. You know this; I told you. Remember?”

It’s true. It had felt wrong to leave your friend out of the loop, so you’d sat her down on one of your first nights on Peridea and told her everything. Your past with Shin, how you’d survived together, and how she’d eventually left you. It doesn’t seemed to have changed anything about how Sabine feels about Shin, judging by the dangerous look in her eyes as she advances.

“I remember her stabbing me. I remember her trying to kill us all on multiple occasions. I remember that she’s the enemy, Y/N.”

“Sabine.” Ahsoka calls, stepping forward at last, and your shoulders lose a little of their tension. You heave a relieved breath, chancing a glance away from your friend towards Shin behind you. She meets your eyes, and behind the frantic gleam, you see her soften. She nods, almost imperceptibly, and you relax even further.

Sabine looks to her master, eyebrows furrowed.

“There is no such thing as enemy out here. On this planet, there can only be survival.” Ahsoka’s voice is level, easy. She speaks softly but firmly, and you nod along with her.

“But Master—”

“Sabine.” The Togruta arches an eyebrow, like a teacher admonishing a schoolchild, and Sabine falls silent. “Shin will have to gain our trust, this is true. But we will give her that opportunity.” She turns to you, and to Shin. “And should she fail—betray us or hurt us in any way—then, and only then, will we, as you say, ‘let her rot’. Is that clear?”

You wait with bated breath for Sabine’s response. Almost unconsciously, you take a step back, closer to Shin, ready to defend her should you need to.

After what feels like an eternity, Sabine sighs. Shakes her head.

“Crystal.” She murmurs, and a ghost of a smile dances on your lips.

*****

It takes a while, but eventually, Shin starts to settle in.

Ahsoka takes over from Baylan with her training—something that had taken a lot of convincing from both you and your master—and the Noti welcome her with open arms (they’re mostly just happy to have someone else to help with the constant moving, but it’s a win and you’ll take it). Sabine even stops trying to murder her with her eyes after a couple of days.

It’s actually pretty painless, the way she slots into your lives on Peridea. She spars with Ahsoka whilst you spar with Sabine, helps out with chores around camp with minimal complaining, goes hunting and returns with fresh kills for the Noti to cook and eat. She’s…calm. Calmer than you’ve ever seen her, come to think of it. Perhaps it’s something to do with community, or belonging, or any of that sentimental bullshit you think about when the stars come out.

Things between you and Shin are complicated, but also unbelievably simple. Simple, in the way that you trust each other (somehow, after everything). In the way that you go to each other when something is wrong, when you are happy, when you need peace. Gravity. Simple gravity, holding the two of you close, keeping you in each other’s orbit. She sleeps beside you at night, and you listen to her breath even out and fall asleep yourself.

She begins to open up more; about Baylan, about her time with him, her travels and fights and the life she’s lived apart from you. You sit around the fire in the evening, after everybody else has gone to bed, and watch the moon rise together. Sometimes, she rests her head on your shoulder, like she did when you were younger, and it makes your heart race every single time.

That’s why it’s complicated.

Complicated, because the more Shin grows comfortable, the more she softens and opens herself up, the more you start to realise just how deep your feelings for her go.

And it’s stupid. It’s absolutely idiotic, nonsensical and just downright dumb. You want to do silly things like hold her hand. You want to brush her hair out of her face after she spars, want to kiss her forehead and hold her at night, and it’s all so out of place. You’re on a graveyard planet, surviving day by day, uncertain whether your home has been destroyed by Thrawn and the Empire, and all you can think about is Shin. Her eyes. Her smile. Her stupid, kissable lips. Fuck, it’s disarming how much you want to kiss those lips.

You kick yourself for it internally, scold yourself every time you catch your thoughts wandering into dangerous territory, but what doesn’t help is the fact that you’re almost certain she feels the same.

It started small—you catching her staring just a little too long across the fire, her getting distracted when sparring with Ahsoka—and you almost hadn’t noticed it. But as the weeks pass and you all settle further into life on Peridea, it becomes more obvious.

A hand on your waist as she passes you. Toothy smiles you’re sure nobody else gets to see. Blushes when you compliment her fighting style or praise her for her contributions to the camp. All of it begins to add up, to the point where now you’re just dancing around each other, waiting for the other to make some kind of move.

It’s maddening. It’s exhilarating.

It is, apparently, glaringly obvious to those around you.

*****

“When are you two gonna stop eye-fucking and actually get together?”

You almost spit your mouthful of food out, eyes nearly bugging out of your head, as Sabine plops herself next to you by the fire. You cough, clearing your throat, before turning to her with incredulity written across your face.

“What?! What are you talking about?”

She gives you a look. A ‘come on, really?’ look. You don’t waver.

“Seriously? You and Shin. When are you gonna woman up and do something about the tension between the two of you?” You sputter and stammer, trying to string a sentence together to deny the truth. Sabine watches you with amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Is what you finally manage to spit out, and she scoffs. You feel your cheeks turn pink and your mouth dries. Is it really that obvious?

“Bullshit. It’s impossible not to notice you two staring at each other, pining all the damn time. It’s annoying. Please do something about it, it’s making her testy. She almost cut my head off when I asked her to stop snoring the other day.”

So yeah, maybe Sabine and Shin have formed something of a friendship. Well, enough of a friendship where Sabine feels safe antagonising Shin without the fear of murder. It’s almost sweet.

You struggle for words, unable to fully explain just how much you want to do something about it, but also just how scared you are. Not just of rejection, but of ruining everything. You and Shin are just getting comfortable together again. She trusts you. Keeps you close again. You don’t wish to jeopardise that by acting on your feelings, no matter how much you want to. It could ruin things between you for good, could scare her away from the camp entirely. And then you’d be abandoned again, heartbroken, and you’re not sure you’d survive that a second time.

“I can’t, ‘bine. It’s just too complicated.”

Sabine snorts, and you’re offended for a full second before she explains herself.

“Is it though?” You tilt your head, confused. She sighs, shakes her head with a wry smile. Softens, a little. “She came back for you. She’s staying for you. We all know it’s not for me and my stellar company.” You chuckle a little at that, a fond smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “She feels the same way about you, you know. My advice? Don’t lose her again.”

Her words strike a chord, and you feel very, very stupid all of a sudden. You meet her eyes.

“Thanks, Sabine.”

“Anytime, Y/N. Now, please, for the love of the Makers, kiss her so I can sleep in safety once more.”

*****

The next day, you offer to spar with Shin.

It’s not something you’ve done since she joined the camp—Ahsoka had tried to make you, but you’d refused; unsure of whether it was a good idea, given your past. She had sparred with Ahsoka only, their skills in battle fairly evenly matched, whilst you had continued to work with Sabine.

But you know you need to do something, and you need to be alone with her, so when morning comes, you both ride out of camp to a little plateau you had found on a scouting trip.

The journey there is comfortably quiet. Even now, Shin is still a woman of few words, and you respect that. It’s nice, though. Being with her, not speaking. It’s comfortable. Peaceful.

When you arrive, you let your Howlers loose and begin to warm up. You feel nervous, jittery. You know it’s not from anticipation for the fight.

You watch Shin as she moves through some forms with her saber. It steals the breath from your lungs, so at one with her body is she. She is grace and savagery all in one, and you know right then that you’ll love her until your heart stops.

“Ready?” She eventually asks, rolling her shoulders into a fighting stance, and with your nod, you’re away.

Instantly, you see the improvements Ahsoka has made to her form. She fights just as fast she did when you’d clashed before Peridea, just as dangerous with a blade in her hand, but she is also more deliberate. More defensive. She’s precise and calculating and so, so beautiful.

Your lightsabers clash over and over, humming through the air and buzzing against one another, sizzling in the space between you. You’re panting, gritting your teeth, fighting with everything in you. You catch her swings and attack her back, but she’s just too fluid to pin down. You’re losing this, and you know it.

When she looks like this, though—eyes bright and cheeks flushed, teeth bared in a playful snarl—you can’t really find it in yourself to care.

Shin disarms you after nearly 5 minutes of sparring with a move you should’ve seen coming, and your lightsaber is sent flying out of your hands. Triumphant, she levels her blade under your chin, a Cheshire cat smile on her lips, and cocks her head to the side.

“I win.” She declares, smug and proud and blazing bright, and it’s all you can do not to fall to your knees in front of her.

“Yeah, you win.” You agree hoarsely, hands up to show your defeat, gazing at her from the other end of her orange blade with worship in your eyes.

Something shifts, then. On that plateau, with nobody else around for miles, you at the mercy of her blade, Shin seems to crumble. She shuts off her saber, throws it to the ground. Your eyes widen. Your heart races.

Shin throws herself into you and the both of you shatter.

The kiss is bruising, nearly painful in its intensity, and you grin into it like a madman. Shin’s hands are in your hair, on your face, your shoulders; pulling, scratching, digging in, touching you like she needs to prove you’re real. You reciprocate in kind, gripping her waist hard, pulling her so close there’s not an inch of space between you. It’s too much and not enough.

Heat floods your body when she bites down on your bottom lip, the iron taste of blood coating your mouth, and you groan, feeling like you could burst, like you could float away, like you could die in this moment and be forever immortalised by the moan she releases into your mouth, the way she scratches at your scalp, the blood smeared across both of your lips.

Her tongue breaches into your mouth, curling over the backs of your teeth, and the shiver that runs down your spine is involuntary, inevitable, indescribable. Your hands scrabble for purchase on her lower back as hers cup your face with antithetical tenderness. The stroke of her thumb over your cheek almost makes you want to cry—this is all you’ve wanted for months now, all you’ve wanted since you were teenagers on Aris, and it feels like finally coming home.

“Shin.” You breathe in between kisses, forehead resting against hers. She pulls back a little, just enough to look you in your eyes. She looks wild again, but in the best way: her hair is tousled, cheeks pink, eyes half-focused. You think you’d rather go blind than ever see anything other than her.

“Lie down.” You murmur, after having caught your breath. Her pupils, already blown, flash dangerously, and you can’t help but surge forward and press another heavy kiss to her lips.

You manage to manoeuvre yourselves down to the ground, Shin on her back, you hovering above her, one leg slotted between hers, arms holding you up beside her head.

She looks so pretty like this, you think, and screw it, you’re in this now, might as well tell her.

“You’re so pretty, Shin. So beautiful like this.” Your words elicit a low whimper from the woman below you, her hands reaching for you, tugging you down until she can connect your mouths again.

She kisses you hard, filthy; licking into your mouth like you’re her last meal, and you moan, wanting more, wanting everything. You disconnect your lips, and Shin’s whine of protest morphs into another whimper when you begin to trail open-mouthed kisses over her jaw and neck.

Red and purple marks rise in the wake of your tongue and teeth, sucking and biting hard enough for Shin to gasp and arch up into you, leaving bruises that will stay on her skin for days. Just the thought of it, of claiming her like this, is enough to have you nearly feral with need.

It’s not long before Shin’s moans turn desperate, the hands on your shoulders beginning to scrabble.

“Y/N.” She groans, tone pleading but frantic, like she’s not even sure what she’s asking for.

“Yeah?” You murmur, pulling away. The marks littering her throat make something dark inside of your roar proudly, and your mouth practically waters at the sight of her—needy, wanting, begging.

“Please.” She sighs, eyes wide and dark, and you couldn’t deny her even if you wanted to.

Between the two of you, you manage to tug her pants and underwear down her legs. If you’d been back at camp or on the ship, you’d have taken your time. Worked her up slowly, spent hours worshipping her body. But you’re out in the middle of nowhere, and Shin is practically halfway gone already, and you’d rather die than leave her hanging.

The first swipe of your fingers through her folds makes her gasp, makes you moan. She’s dripping, so riled up she’s soaked, and you feel a little light-headed, nearly overwhelmed.

“Fuck, Shin, you’re so wet.” You mutter, moving your fingers to her clit and starting to rub it in slow circles. She whines again, head falling back, mouth dropping open. You lower your mouth to her neck, biting another mark into her pulse point. She writhes underneath you, hips bucking, and you feel like you could come from this alone.

You keep your attention on her clit, not wanting to overwhelm her with anything too soon. You keep it relatively slow, occasionally pressing harder in order to draw out another of her pretty whimpers, or drawing back to hear her beg. Every so often, you press your lips to hers, kissing her softly, whispering praise and encouragement, telling her how beautiful she is, how well she’s doing.

It doesn’t take long for her thighs to start trembling around your hand—if she’s the same as you, she’s been worked up enough about this over the last few weeks to hold out much longer. Her moans take on a higher pitch, coming more frequently as her eyes clench shut. You keep your pace, circling her clit, pressing kisses to her neck.

“Let go, I’ve got you.” You murmur, when it’s evident she’s close, and she falls over the edge with a cry of your name. Her back arches off the ground, hands holding you tight as she shudders through it. You think stars would be jealous of her beauty in this moment.

She comes down slowly, breath evening out, and you pull your hand away once you’re sure it’s over. Her grey eyes open, hazy and soft, and you chuckle at the sight of her. Hair mussed, lips bitten-red, dazed look in her half-lidded eyes; she looks like the rest of your life.

“Hey.” You whisper, cupping her face. She grins lazily.

“Hey.” Shin murmurs back, reaching up to card through your hair with one hand. “You’re pretty good at that.”

You laugh, bury your face in her neck, blushing. She scratches gently at your scalp.

“I think I might love you.” You say quietly, waiting for the regret to hit you. It doesn’t.

“I think I might love you too.” She says back, easy as breathing, and you feel something loosen in your chest that had been wound tight for years. You smile. Press another kiss to her throat.

“Wanna show me?” You ask, cheesy and silly and lovesick. Shin laughs, and you hear eternity. She smiles down at you, presses a kiss to your forehead before rolling you onto your back. You look up at her, breath stolen by her beauty.

“I’ll show you.” She breathes, capturing your lips again, and you let yourself be lost in the wonder of her.

*****

A/N: Holy shit this took a long time to write, and I'm so sorry about that! But it's finally here, and I hope you guys enjoyed it :)

#shin hati #star wars #shin hati x reader #ahsoka #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #ivanna sakhno

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 1 year

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Direct observations of a complex coronal web uncover an important clue as to what mechanism drives solar wind Using observational data from the U.S. weather satellites GOES, a team of researchers led by the Max Planck Institute for Solar System Research (MPS) in Germany has taken an important step toward unlocking one of the sun's most persevering secrets: How does our star launch the particles constituting the solar wind into space? The data provide a unique view of a key region in the solar corona to which researchers have had little access so far. The team has for the first time captured a dynamic web-like network of elongated, interwoven plasma structures. Together with data from other space probes and extensive computer simulations, a clear picture emerges: where the elongated coronal web structures interact, magnetic energy is discharged—and particles escape into space. The Geostationary Operational Environmental Satellites (GOES) of the U.S. National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration (NOAA) have traditionally concerned themselves with other things than the sun. Since 1974, the system has been orbiting our planet at an altitude of about 36,000 kilometers and continuously providing Earth-related data for example for weather and storm forecasting. Over the years, the original configuration has been expanded to include newer satellites. The three most recent ones currently operating are additionally equipped with instruments that look at the sun for space weather forecasting. They can image ultraviolet radiation from our star's corona. An exploratory observing campaign to image the extended solar corona took place in August and September 2018. For more than a month, GOES's Solar Ultraviolet Imager (SUVI) not only looked directly at the sun as it usually does, but also captured images to either side of it. "We had the rare opportunity to use an instrument in an unusual way to observe a region that has not really been explored," said Dr. Dan Seaton of SwRI, who served as chief scientist for SUVI during the observation campaign. "We didn't even know if it would work, but we knew if it did, we'd make important discoveries." By combining the images from the different viewing angles, the instrument's field of view could be significantly enlarged and thus, for the first time, the entire middle corona, a layer of the solar atmosphere from 350 thousand kilometers above the sun's visible surface, could be imaged in ultraviolet light. Other spacecraft that study the sun and collect data from the corona, such as NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO) as well as NASA's and ESA's Solar and Heliospheric Observatory (SOHO), look into deeper or higher layers. "In the middle corona, solar research has had something of a blind spot. The GOES data now provides a significant improvement," said Dr. Pradeep Chitta of MPS, lead author of the new study. In the middle corona, researchers suspect processes that drive and modulate the solar wind. Traveling through space at supersonic speeds The solar wind is one of our star's most wide-reaching features. The stream of charged particles that the sun hurls into space travels all the way to the edge of our Solar System, creating the heliosphere, a bubble of rarefied plasma that marks the sun's sphere of influence. Depending on its speed, solar wind is divided into fast and slow components. The so-called fast solar wind, which reaches speeds of more than 500 kilometers per second, originates from interiors of coronal holes, regions that appear dark in coronal ultraviolet radiation. The source regions of slow solar wind are less certain though. But even the particles of the slow solar wind race through space at supersonic speeds of 300 to 500 kilometers per second. This slower component of the solar wind still raises many questions. Hot coronal plasma over one million degrees needs to escape the sun to form the slow solar wind. What mechanism is at work here? Moreover, the slow solar wind is not homogeneous, but reveals, at least in part, a ray-like structure of clearly distinguishable streamers. Where and how do they originate? These are the questions addressed in the new study. In the GOES data, a region near the equator can be seen that aroused the researchers' particular interest: two coronal holes, where the solar wind streams away from the sun unimpeded, in close proximity to a region with high magnetic field strength. Interactions between systems like these are considered to be possible starting points of the slow solar wind. Above this region, the GOES data show elongated plasma structures in the middle corona pointing radially outward. The team of authors refers to this phenomenon, which has now been directly imaged for the first time, as a coronal web. The web is constantly in motion: its structures interact and regroup. Researchers have long known the solar plasma of the outer corona to exhibit a similar architecture. For decades, the coronagraph LASCO (Large Angle and Spectrometric Coronagraph) on board the SOHO spacecraft, which celebrated its 25th anniversary last year, has been providing images from this region in visible light. Scientists interpret the jet-like streams in the outer corona as the structure of the slow solar wind that begins its journey into space there. As the new study now impressively shows, this structure already prevails in the middle corona. Influence of the solar magnetic field To better understand the phenomenon, the researchers also analyzed data from other space probes: NASA's Solar Dynamics Observatory (SDO) provided a simultaneous view of the sun's surface; the STEREO-A spacecraft, which has been preceding Earth on its orbit around the sun since 2006, offered a perspective from the side. Using modern computational techniques that incorporate remote sensing observations of the sun, researchers can use supercomputers to build realistic 3D models of the elusive magnetic field in the solar corona. In this study, the team used an advanced magnetohydrodynamic (MHD) model to simulate the magnetic field and plasma state of the corona for this time period. "This helped us connect the fascinating dynamics that we observed in the middle corona to the prevailing theories of solar wind formation," said Dr. Cooper Downs of Predictive Science Inc., who performed the computer simulations. As the calculations show, the structures of the coronal web follow the magnetic field lines. "Our analysis suggests that the architecture of the magnetic field in the middle corona is imprinted on the slow solar wind and plays an important role in accelerating the particles into space," said Chitta. According to the team's new results, the hot solar plasma in the middle corona flows along the open magnetic field lines of the coronal web. Where the field lines cross and interact, energy is released. There is much to suggest that the researchers are on to a fundamental phenomenon. "During periods of high solar activity, coronal holes often occur near the equator in close proximity to areas of high magnetic field strength," said Chitta. "The coronal network we observed is therefore unlikely to be an isolated case," he adds. The team hopes to gain further and more detailed insights from future solar missions. Some of them, such as ESA's Proba-3 mission planned for 2024, are equipped with instruments that specifically target the middle corona. The MPS is involved in processing and analyzing the data of this mission. Together with observational data from currently operating probes such as NASA's Parker Solar Probe and ESA's Solar Orbiter, which leave the Earth-sun-line, this will enable a better understanding of the three-dimensional structure of the coronal web. The research was published in Nature Astronomy. TOP IMAGE....The Sun`s atmosphere: Computer simulation of the architecture of the magnetic field in the middle corona on August 17, 2018. The ray-like features in this snapshot are the underlying magnetic architecture of the observed coronal web. In the middle corona the predominantly closed magnetic field lines close to the Sun give way to the predominantly open field lines of the outer corona. Credit: Nature Astronomy, Chitta et al. LOWER IMAGE....The origin of the solar wind: This is a mosaic of images taken by the GOES instrument SUVI and the SOHO coronagraph LASCO on August 17, 2018. Outside the white marked circle, LASCO's field of view shows the streams of the slow solar wind. These connect seamlessly to the structures of the coronal web network in the mid-corona, which can be seen inside the white-marked circle. Where the long filaments of the coronal web interact, the slow solar wind begins its journey into space. Credit: Nature Astronomy, Chitta et al. / GOES/SUVI / SOHO/LASCO

#space #science #Astronomy #physics #news #sun #cosmology

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thxnews · 3 months

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Exploring the Mysteries of Magma and Volcanic Eruptions

Introduction

At the heart of the Earth's mantle lies a molten force that has shaped our planet for billions of years - magma. This enigmatic substance, hidden from our view deep within the Earth's mantle, holds a profound significance in understanding geological processes and natural phenomena. From its role in volcanic eruptions to its influence on Earth's tectonic movements, the importance of magma cannot be overstated. We will embark on a journey into the depths of our planet’s inner workings and uncover how magma serves as both a destructive and creative force, shaping landscapes and ecosystems in ways that are both awe-inspiring and humbling. Through understanding the properties of magma and its behavior beneath the Earth’s surface, we gain insight into predicting volcanic activity, harnessing geothermal energy, and comprehending planetary formation. In this article, we delve into the captivating world of magma, shedding light on its crucial impact on our planet and why it continues to captivate scientists and researchers around the globe.

Volcanic eruption in Holuhraun, Iceland. Photo by Sparkle Motion. Flickr.

Composition of Magma

Magma is a molten mixture of rock, minerals, and gases found beneath the Earth's surface. When magma flows onto Earth's surface, it is called lava. This hot, semi-fluid material can reach temperatures above 1300°C and contains a variety of chemical compositions, depending on the source rock. Magma and lava contain three components: melt, solids, and volatiles. The melt is made of ions from minerals that have liquefied. An ion is a particle like an atom that has lost or gained an electron. The solids consist of crystallized minerals that float in the liquid melt. Volatiles are gaseous components—such as water vapor, carbon dioxide, sulphur, and chlorine—dissolved in the magma. The presence and amount of these three components will affect the physical behaviour of magma. Magma is primarily composed of silicate minerals, along with varying amounts of dissolved gases and other elements. These silicate minerals include compounds such as silica, alumina, iron oxide, magnesium oxide, and calcium oxide, which together determine the physical properties and behavior of different types of magma.

Suspended between the Eurasian and American tectonic plates. Photo by Jason Eppink. Flicker.

The Origins of Magma

Mantle and Crust: Magma's Birthplace Magma originates in two places: the lower part of Earth’s crust and the upper portion of the mantle. The mantle has two main parts, the upper mantle and the lower mantle. The upper mantle attaches to the layer above, known as the crust, our planet's thin outer layer. Together, they form the lithosphere—a fixed shell divided into tectonic plates. The Solid Mantle What most people don’t know is that the mantle consists of solid rock despite its very high temperatures (200C – 4000C ). Although it is solid, the mantle moves. This comes about by mantle convection, which is the very slow creeping motion of Earth's solid silicate mantle as convection currents carry heat from the interior to the planet's surface. It is mantle convection that is the fundamental driver of tectonic plate movement. Pressure and Temperature: A Delicate Balance The explanation for this paradox is that the melting temperature of any solid is dependent on both temperature and pressure. The very high pressures inside the mantle raise the melting point of the rock. In the upper mantle, the pressure is 237,000 times more than our atmospheric pressure and in the lower mantle, it is more than three million times greater. Consequently, despite reaching very high temperatures, the rock in the mantle does not melt because the intense pressure prevents bond breakdown between particles.

Alaska’s Pavlof Volcano. NASA’s View from Space. Photo by NASA. Flickr.

Generating Magma

Special Conditions for Magma Formation Magmas do not form everywhere beneath the earth's surface, so special circumstances are necessary. Magma forms through three mechanisms: raising the temperature of mantle rock above the melting point, lowering the melting point by reducing pressure (a physical mechanism), or adding a flux (a chemical mechanism). These special events occur at mid-oceanic ridges (divergent plate boundaries), hotspots, and subduction zones (convergent plate boundaries) and we shall now consider these individually. Geological Settings for Magma Formation Divergent Plate Boundaries Divergent boundaries, also known as spreading centers, are fascinating geological features where two tectonic plates move away from each other. These boundaries occur primarily along mid-ocean ridges, where new crust is constantly being created as magma rises to the surface and solidifies. The process of seafloor spreading at divergent boundaries results in the formation of geologically young oceanic crust. Hotspots With this second mechanism, heat from very deep in the planet creates hotspots which are intensely hot areas that cause the mantle in that area to melt. Magma from partial melting of mantle rocks rises upward through the mantle and may pool at the base of the crust or rise through the crust. These hotspots typically occur far from tectonic plate boundaries, challenging the conventional understanding of volcanic activity. Transforming solid mantle into liquid magma by simply applying heat, is the least common process for generating magma. Subduction Zones Subduction zones are dynamic geological environments where one tectonic plate is forcefully pushed beneath another, leading to a host of seismic and volcanic activities. At these convergent plate boundaries, an oceanic tectonic plate subducts beneath a continental plate and this can trigger the formation of deep ocean trenches and explosive volcanoes.

Mount Saint Helens active lava stacks. Photo by Art Tower. Pixabay.

Magma Types and Volcanic Eruptions

Understanding Magma Types There are three main types of magma: basaltic, andesitic, and rhyolitic. Basaltic magma is the most common type and is associated with shield volcanoes and ocean-floor eruptions. It has low viscosity, meaning it flows easily and can travel long distances before solidifying. This type of magma also tends to erupt at higher temperatures, around 1000-1200°C, resulting in relatively gentle eruptions. Andesitic magma contains a balance of silica and iron, giving it moderate viscosity. This type of magma often leads to explosive eruptions due to its tendency to trap gas bubbles as it rises through the Earth's crust. If precautions are not taken, nearby communities can face danger from these eruptions. Finally, rhyolitic magma has the highest silica content, resulting in very high viscosity. Eruptions involving rhyolitic magma can be extremely violent due to the build-up of gas pressure within the viscous lava. The explosive nature of these eruptions often leads to the formation of steep-sided stratovolcanoes such as Mount St Helens in Washington state, USA. Understanding these variations in magma composition provides valuable insights into volcanic activity and helps geologists predict eruptions with greater accuracy. The Impact of Magma on Volcanic Eruptions When magma rises towards the surface, it can become trapped in underground chambers, building up pressure until it finally erupts. The characteristics of magma, including its viscosity and gas content, have a direct impact on the type of eruption that occurs. Understanding these dynamics helps scientists predict volcanic activity and mitigate potential disasters. Recent research has also shown that monitoring changes in magma composition before an eruption may offer valuable insights into its behavior. By studying these patterns, scientists aim to develop better early warning systems for impending volcanic eruptions. This prospect is particularly promising in regions, like Iceland, where volcanic activity poses a significant threat to local communities and infrastructure.

Conclusion

Through advancements in technology and research, scientists have made great strides in unraveling the mysteries of magma's behavior and composition. They have shown that magma forms deep beneath the Earth's surface through the process of partial melting of the mantle. When temperatures in the mantle rise, they can cause rocks to partially melt, forming liquid magma. This often occurs at tectonic plate boundaries, where subduction or spreading causes intense heat and pressure, leading to the formation of magma chambers. Additionally, hot spots, such as those found at Yellowstone National Park or Hawaii, can also produce magma as rising plumes of mantle material reach shallower depths. As we have seen, the composition of magma is a complex interplay of various elements, including silica, oxygen, and diverse minerals. Research has shown that there are three main types of magma - basaltic, andesitic, and rhyolitic - each with distinct compositions and characteristics that influence volcanic eruptions. The process of convection within the mantle also plays a crucial role in generating the heat necessary for magma formation. Understanding how and where magma forms offers valuable insights into Earth's geological processes and has significant implications for volcanic activity prediction and hazard mitigation efforts. Finally, we now understand that magma ascends to the surface at mid-oceanic ridges and cools to form oceanic crust. Millions of years later, tectonic processes return this crust to the mantle at subduction zones. The formation of oceanic crust constantly occurs as magma flowing from our planet’s interior returns to the mantle, thus resurfacing about two-thirds of the Earth every 100 million years. Sources: THX News, European Geosciences Union, Nature Geoscience, PubMed & Web of Science. Read the full article

#Tectonicplates #Earth'smantle #Magma #thxnews

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normally0 · 3 months

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"Architectural Duality: Navigating Climate Awareness in a Complex World"

The brief for the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Headquarters was ambitious, aiming to create 'the best bank building in the world.' This vision was translated into architectural form by Sir Norman Foster and his team at Foster + Partners. One distinctive feature of the building is the mirrored 'sunscoop,' a design element that goes beyond mere functionality to reflect sunlight down through the atrium to the floor of a public plaza below.

This 'sunscoop' serves a dual purpose – not only does it bring natural light into the building's interior, creating a vibrant and dynamic atmosphere, but it also defines a sheltered public space on the ground floor, transforming it into a lively picnic spot during weekends. The automated system, responding to the solar calendar, ensures that sunlight is optimally utilized throughout the year.

The architectural expression of sunlight in the design becomes a metaphor, symbolizing cultural and political significance. The sun, a universal symbol, is articulated in a way that resonates with the ethos of the bank. The bank's motto, "We build for tomorrow, today," reflects a forward-thinking approach and a commitment to future prosperity.

However, when we explore the anagrammatic reflection - "Brutal tomorrow woofed Yid!" - a complex narrative emerges. The term "Brutal tomorrow" could allude to the architectural style of Brutalism, known for its raw, exposed concrete structures. In the context of the bank's architectural innovation, this may suggest a bold, unapologetic approach to the future.

The inclusion of "Yid" introduces a cultural and historical layer. Historically, the Jews have had a significant presence in banking, as seen in Venice with the Banco Rosso. The red receipt from this pawnshop is believed to be the origin of the banking term 'in the red.' However, the term also takes a darker turn as "Yid" is a derogatory term for Jewish people. This raises questions about cultural identity, stereotypes, and the complex relationship between finance and cultural history.

Moreover, the mention of Gaza and the tragic loss of life there adds a layer of geopolitical sensitivity. The juxtaposition of financial prowess with global conflicts challenges us to reflect on the ethical dimensions of banking and its historical associations.

In essence, the architectural narrative of the Hongkong and Shanghai Bank Headquarters weaves together a story of innovation, cultural heritage, and the broader implications of financial institutions in a global context. It underscores the intricate relationship between architecture, culture, and politics, inviting us to contemplate the profound impact of built environments on society.

Architecture stands at the forefront of the climate crisis, bearing the dual responsibility of both contributing to environmental issues and offering innovative solutions. The built environment, with its energy consumption, material choices, and urban planning, significantly impacts the planet's health. As we face the urgent need for climate awareness, architects play a pivotal role in shaping a sustainable future.

The struggle to determine the value of climate-conscious architecture reflects a broader cultural ambivalence. While there's a growing recognition of the importance of sustainable practices, the full integration of climate considerations into architectural discourse and decision-making remains a challenge. Cultural values, economic interests, and conflicting perspectives on the urgency of climate action create a complex terrain for architects to navigate.

The use of the sun as a symbol in architecture exemplifies this complexity. Traditionally, the sun represents enlightenment, warmth, and life. However, in the context of modern architecture and capitalism, its symbolism becomes more nuanced. Solar imagery is often intertwined with economic progress, technological advancement, and, at times, an unchecked pursuit of growth. This duality can lead to confusion, as the same symbol represents both positive aspirations and potential environmental harm.

The current physical predicament in Gaza and Israel adds another layer to this narrative. Geopolitical conflicts, driven by various factors, including resources, land, and historical tensions, contribute to the complex reality of the region. Capitalism's role in shaping global power dynamics and resource exploitation further emphasizes the interconnectedness of economic systems and geopolitical struggles.

In essence, climate awareness in architecture is intertwined with broader cultural, economic, and geopolitical considerations. The values we attribute to sustainability, the symbols we employ, and the economic systems we uphold all contribute to the intricate web of challenges and opportunities in addressing the climate crisis. Architects, as key agents in shaping the built environment, are tasked with navigating this complexity and forging a path toward a more sustainable, equitable future.

#norman foster #hsbc #honkong #yid #sun

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terrialter · 2 years

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The existence of a proton fluid and an oxygen sub-lattice in the superionic phase raises questions about the response of this phase to electromagnetic stress through protonic fluid motion. Ionic conduction is caused by the movement of negatively or positively charged ions and in the case of high-pressure H 2O ice, protonic conductivity properties are crucial to constrain planetary dynamo processes (e.g., Refs. If dissociation of molecules occurs in water-rich planets, then total conductivity is comprised of an electronic and ionic contribution. Knowing the phases and properties of H 2O at the pressure–temperature ( P–T) conditions of ice giant interiors on their isentropes is critical for validating dynamo simulations-but they are not well understood.Ĭonvection of electrically conducting fluids generates magnetic fields in planetary interiors. Stanley and Bloxham 3, 4 performed numerical dynamo simulations using model geometries to explain Uranus’ and Neptune’s anomalous fields-finding their non-dipolar, non-symmetric magnetic fields are generated by a combination of electromagnetic stresses perturbing the convecting ionic fluid which surrounds a layered, stratified interior. During the visit of the Voyager II spacecraft, its magnetometer revealed surprising non-axisymmetric, non-dipolar magnetic fields for the ice giants that differed substantially from the strong dipolar fields of Jupiter and Saturn 2. During the formation of Uranus and Neptune in the outer region of our solar system, massive amounts of H 2O were accreted and are now stored at hundreds of GPa pressures in their interiors 1. Understanding the phase diagram of H 2O, a ubiquitous molecule in the Universe and a primary building block of volatile-rich giant planets, is of crucial importance for condensed matter physics, solid-state chemistry, and planetary science. This suggests variable and increased electrical conductivity to greater depths in ice giant planets that may promote the generation of multipolar magnetic fields. Although several cubic or orthorhombic structures have been predicted to be the stable structure at these conditions, we show this BCC ice phase is stable to multi-Mbar pressures and temperatures near the melt boundary.

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Here we present X-ray diffraction evidence of a body-centered cubic (BCC) structured H 2O ice at 200 GPa and ~ 5000 K, deemed ice XIX, using the X-ray Free Electron Laser of the Linac Coherent Light Source to probe the structure of the oxygen sub-lattice during dynamic compression. The unusual non-dipolar magnetic fields of ice giant planets, produced by convecting liquid ionic water, are influenced by exotic high-pressure states of H 2O-yet the structure of ice in this state is challenging to determine experimentally.

Saving Earth Britannica Presents Earth’s To-Do List for the 21st Century.Recent discoveries of water-rich Neptune-like exoplanets require a more detailed understanding of the phase diagram of H 2O at pressure–temperature conditions relevant to their planetary interiors.

Britannica Beyond We’ve created a new place where questions are at the center of learning.

100 Women Britannica celebrates the centennial of the Nineteenth Amendment, highlighting suffragists and history-making politicians.

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COVID-19 Portal While this global health crisis continues to evolve, it can be useful to look to past pandemics to better understand how to respond today.

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pedros-mustache · 2 years

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nighthawks (10)

series masterlist || previous chapter

word count: 7.7k+

warnings: canon typical violence and weaponry, angst, sensuality, light alcohol use, language, x fem!reader

a/n: ayeee! she’s early! hehe.

thank you for your patience as i navigate the start of a new relationship and my emotionally draining job. sometimes i just don’t have it in me to write. BUT: here we enter my favorite arc—The Angst Arc. enjoy! 🤗 😉 (ps: peep the time jump 👀)

(beta: @pleasedin)

DAY NINETY—TWO MONTHS SINCE VISITING GROGU

“Here.”

Din tosses a blinking fob to the annex table. It clatters across the polished surface, spinning on its side until you stop its rotation with the muzzle of your dismantled blaster. You look up, cleaning motions paused, brow arched in question.

The Mandalorian gestures to the fob, and when he speaks, his voice betrays none of the pride welling in the cavity of his chest. “That’s all yours,” he says. “Show me what you can do.”

DAY NINETY-ONE—LOCATION: XAXERIS BAZAAR

Din follows you down the Sunder’s ramp into the hot afternoon sun. Beneath the shadow of his helm, he sweats. Rivulets of perspiration trickle from his brow to his chin and soak the collar of his flight suit. It’s sweltering here on the outskirts of the Core. Between the sun and the influx of people gridlocking the open-air market, Din can’t help but grimace. Figures you would want to make a shopping trip before embarking on your first solo hunt; figures you would bring him along for guidance. Silly girl. Still unsure on newborn legs, but he’s watched you closely for ninety days. He knows: you’re ready. You don’t need him crowding your ear as much as he doesn’t need the infernal Xaxerian marketplace pushing in on his personal bubble.

He tugs on his cowl, wishing he had left it behind. He should have stayed on the ship.

Turning at the bottom of the ramp, you acknowledge Din with a flick of your eyes before returning your datapad. “Okay, so Devanner Breeth”—you shake your head—“That’s a fuckin’ mouthful.”

“Get used to it. He’s rich. I imagine he’ll want to hear his name more than you’ll want to say it.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, though there’s a sparkle when you nudge his shoulder with your bicep. “Men. So predictable. It’s honestly embarrassing.”

As you stroll away from the Sunder, heading in the direction of the bazaar, Din pulls you out of the path of an oncoming cart. Your shoulder bumps his chest-plate, but you lift your face with a smile. Shit—he still isn’t used to it, your growing tenderness. It makes his stomach lurch and his own lips pull upwards, imitating your grin in whatever sorry way he can.

Ninety days he’s known you now. Three full moon cycles by Nevarro’s standards. Yet, in the last six weeks, Din feels as though he’s only just met you—the real you, scales peeled back, demulcent interior blooming under a modicum of care. Grogu did that. He’s sure of it. His kid has a funny way of stripping the hardened layers of a person’s facade.

Fuck, looking at himself in the mirror, Din barely recognizes the man who blinks back. His Way and his Creed broken in pieces at his feet, but he would do it all over again if it meant gaining the one thing most attuned to the ways of his people: aliit. Family. Grogu changed him, too.

You hurry through the bazaar’s oversized archway. Orange and green streamers flutter overhead with the planet’s cool breeze, and the air smells pungent, like spice and perfume. Your steps drum against the pavement with excitement. He can feel your anticipation in the wake of your quick pace. The privilege of a solo job and the opportunity for an afternoon of careless spending pushes you through the bazaar’s crowd with cat-like agility, but burdened with armor and the weight of curious eyes, Din struggles to keep up. He grits his teeth. Yeah, you might be a bit smoother around the edges, but you still find ways to pick at his nerves. Some things never change.

He raises his voice over the consistent hum of the crowd when he loses sight of your back amongst the horde. “Scout!” No response. He stops walking, and an older man bumps into his back, skirting around him like a fish wriggling over a rock in the middle of a stream.

He doesn’t need to worry. At least not yet. The outfits you bought on Daos-Seven are beneficial in more ways than one: loosened range of motion, impossible to ignore, not to mention easy access to your cunt. Even if he tried, he doubts he could misplace you in a crowd for long. Loathe as he is to admit it, like a magnet, he is drawn to your side.

Still, it helps to cheat rather than search on mere gut-instinct alone when he doesn’t have to.

He maneuvers the controls on his helm. The world fades to a washed-out blue, all the painted frippery of Xaxeris giving way to a single-minded focus. He follows the heated impression of your footsteps and pushes his way through the clogged thoroughfare. Shoulders and elbows swinging, he tracks your footfalls, ignoring the sounds of indignation that succeed his brusk, unapologetic movements.

He finds you speaking to a cart owner, and when he clears his throat, you turn with a bright grin. Something in his chest pulls, and he busies himself with resetting the controls of his helm.

“There you are!” You walk to his side, hips swinging, threading a bright orange scarf through your hands as you approach. “I thought you’d gone off to sulk in a corner.”

“Sulk?” He frowns and grabs your elbow, pulling you to an empty alleyway. “No—you got away from me. Don’t do that again.”

You tug your elbow from his stiff fingers, but the movement is not as unkind as it might have been thirty days ago. There is a softness—a warmth—to the roll of your eyes and shake of your head. “I told you it wasn’t necessary to come along. I’m going to be awhile. I have a fitting in twenty minutes.”

“You shouldn’t be out here alone.”

“I’m shopping, Mando.” Throwing the scarf around his neck, you hold both ends and tug him close. The heat of your body washes over him as you arch against his chest, your knee sliding between his legs. You lower your voice to a husky whisper and slide the scarf back and forth across the back of his neck. “I don’t need your help shopping.”

Din drops his hands to your waist to steady himself. He pushes his hips forward, and though you cannot see, his brow arches beneath his helm. “Anything could happen. There’s bad people out here. People who might want to ravage you… pull you apart with their tongue… make you cum on their cock…”

“Bad people, huh?” You tuck your lower lip between your teeth. “Like you?”

He angles his head forward as though to rub the tip of his nose over yours; you lean into the motion, eyelashes fluttering across your cheekbones. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “People like me.”

Spinning on his foot, Din crowds you against the wall, anchoring one of your wrists above your head with his palm. The scarf caught in your fist slips from your grasp. He slides his opposite hand beneath the waistband of your pants and finds your warm, wet heat. When he nudges the hood of your clit, eliciting a stifled gasp from your pretty mouth, he smirks. Already trembling for him. You may put on a haughty face, but you are putty beneath his capable hands every time. It makes his chest—and his cock—swell with pride.

Opening your eyes, you press your palm to Din’s chest. You speak in a heady rush, tongue heavy in your mouth. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“I always start what I finish. You know that.”

“Yeah but…” He slides his first finger through the slick coating your cunt, and you grit your jaw as your head drops forward on a whine. “Mando… I have an appointment.”

“Forget it,” he murmurs. “You’re gonna be gone. Won’t you miss my cock? How good I can make you feel?”

“You know I will,” you whisper. Lifting your face, you gently push his chest; he removes his hand from your pants and momentarily wishes he had kept that damned fob for himself. “It’s only a few days, though. Long enough to catch Breeth in the act.”

“A few days... Right.”

He rubs his soaked finger along the seam of his pants, glancing over his shoulder as you step out from beneath his hold and adjust your clothing. He notes the determined pinch of your brow, and a sigh forces its way through his throat. You want this—it’s written in bright, hopeful ink over your face. Who is he to deny you what you’ve worked so hard to earn?

“You should go then… to your appointment. I’ll wait here.”

You turn away from the mouth of the alley where your eyes scan the hustle and bustle of the bazaar. “You’ll wait?” Checking your chrono, you shoot him an upturned brow. “It could be a few hours.”

He folds his arms over his chest. “I’ll wait.”

“Okay.” Your face softens into a smile. “Thanks, Mando.”

Grunting, he gestures to the outside world, to the place where you will land once jumping from the nest. He is no mother hen; he does not coddle or shelter you from the storm. He will push you from the safety of the Sunder when the time comes, and he will watch you struggle to gather your bearings as you find your way without his supervision. He will watch you walk into the fog, leave the nest, fly with the strength of your own, fully-developed wings. But even so, he finds there is a twinge in his gut today. When you disappear within the crush of the bazaar without a proper farewell, his hands curl to fists at his sides. He doesn’t want you to go.

Fuck.

Din drops to the alley wall and resists the urge to lift his helmet and scrub the exhaustion from his face.

He picked this specific bounty for your first solo run out of the handful of fobs Karga gave him on the last drop off. Devanner Breeth—genius inventor turned political big-wig on Coruscant; currently suspected of smuggling illegal cloaking devices to anyone who will pay an exorbitant price. Nothing proven, but there are plenty of people willing to take Breeth’s mind and bend it to their will should he have the knowledge and skill he boasts about. Plenty of people who want him dead for the same reason.

Breeth is an easy enough mark: older in age therefore likely to give up should a fight arise; tempted by pretty things therefore likely to draw you into his inner-circle without a second thought; stands to lose power and prestige should his underworld dealings be revealed. You can do this; you can take him down. Din knows it. But three days at a political convention on Coruscant posing as an interested client…

That takes you where he cannot follow. And, Maker, it’s eating at him.

He has grown used to your company. Before visiting Grogu, he resisted your presence. He ignored your quirks, and your habits, and the force with which you became a fixture in his ship. But now, after allowing you to scale his walls, he greets your foothold in his life with a growing measure of appreciation. He seeks you out rather than leaving you to your own devices:

He eats with you… sort of. (Really, he sits with you while you take your meals before he has the privacy to eat on his own, and that is enough.) He works with you on your sparring skills and your shooting acumen in the frigid hold of the ship. He listens to your grand schemings, and he chuckles to himself. He was once idealistic; he was once prepared to take on the galaxy with nothing but his own two fists. That spark, that shine—he sees it in you too. And for the first time since a small green child came his way, he wants to watch that spark fan into a flame.

And your body… He cannot quench his hunger for your warmth and touch. He fucks you differently now; everything has changed. There are lines he will not cross: no bed, no touch of his mouth upon yours, no more skin than is strictly necessary. But he craves you more than he has ever craved another. He finds solace in the tight grip of your cunt, and he buries his face in the curve of your shoulder as you ride his length in the dim light of the cockpit. Over and over, the song in your throat as he takes you a symphony.

He should be afraid—and he is. He should resist—and he tries. But with each passing day, he slips. You pry open his tight grip on the gruff exterior he wears as a mask. If he isn’t careful, if he loses vigilance for but a moment, he will fall headfirst into your abyss.

As he promised he would, Din lingers in the alleyway. A misty rain settles over the bazaar as time slows to a tedious slog. Iridescent lights—purple and blue and yellow—pour from windows overhead and shimmer in the rainwater that gathers on the chipped road. The overflow of shoppers has thinned with the onset of night and poor weather. Din taps the toe of his boot on the ground.

Twenty-two hundred hours by his chrono—you’ve been gone too long. More than likely swallowed by the frivolity of the day. He considers leaving, returning to the Sunder and prepping for his own bounties, or finding you on his own, but he promised he would wait until you returned.

You are grown. You are capable. You can handle yourself. So he leans against the wall, ankles and arms crossed, and waits.

Another half an hour and frustration pushes aside the pride in Din’s chest. Your transport to Coruscant leaves from the hangar bay in less than a standard hour. How many clothing items could you possibly need for three days? While he is confident in your abilities, he is less confident in your punctuality. When his chrono beeps with the beginning of a new hour, Din makes up his mind: He’ll drag you from the stores if he has to if that’s what gets you to Coruscant. You’ve wasted enough time already.

He stoops to gather your single bag of belongings from the ground and sling it over his shoulder. Stars, he’s become a glorified bellhop—for you and Grogu both. Somehow… in some way… tonight, it does not bother him.

He steps out of the alley and glances down either side of the sparsely populated thoroughfare. Huh, Xaxeris is kinda nice when the whole population doesn’t crowd a single market. He rather likes the way he can see the—

Heels click against the road, fast paced and anxious. He knows that gait, has listened to it, urged it to slow lest intentions be given away by footsteps alone. Din glances over his shoulder. A boulder drops to his stomach; his tongue shrivels in his mouth. Turning completely, the bag on his shoulder slides to hang by his leg.

“Scout?” He clears his throat of any lingering pubescent squeak. He says your name—your true name—and you look up from avoiding puddles as you hurry down the road. “You—” He swallows hard. “You’re going to be late.”

“I run on Scout Standard Time! Galactic Standard Time be damned. Well, what do you think?” You spread your arms and twirl on the ball of your foot. “I figured I should get something that might endear Breeth to me. Do you think it will work?”

Work? Does he think it will work? The squeeze of Din’s cock at the sight of you is answer enough.

The gown is white silk. Long. Two slits which expose the crest of your hips and the length of your legs to the night air. Your breasts push against the bodice, and your shoulders glisten under the street lights.

He can't breathe. Fuck, he can’t breathe.

How is he supposed to let you go when he can’t breathe? When spots swim before his eyes? When you are the most magical thing he has ever seen?

You wave a hand in front of his face. “Still with me, Mando? Do you think Breeth will like the get-up? I know it’s a bit much…”

Heart a galloping monster in his chest, Din moves before his better angels can stop him. He has to touch you before you go. If he doesn’t….

He lifts his left hand and pinches the tips of his gloved fingers. Slowly, as though not to disturb the air which freezes between you, he removes his glove inch by inch until his flesh meets the night. He flexes his fingers then removes his opposite glove. Your eyes drop to his skin, pupils expanding.

“Mando…”

Ignoring your breathy whisper, he reaches for your hip. The silk fabric is like water beneath his palm; he rubs a crease between his thumb and forefinger. He moves his hand over the dip of your waist, over the rise of your breast where he pauses his knead his fingertips at your cleavage. He traces the length of your neck with his thumb and tilts your head upwards so he can meet your stunned gaze. Your skin is hot, flushed with shock and desire. Your lips part, and he nudges your plush lower lip with his knuckle.

He wants to kiss you. With everything that composes his being, he wants to kiss you.

He’s never kissed anyone before.

“Yes,” he finally says. “The get-up will work.” You release a shuddering exhale, and he drops his hand from the smooth skin of your face. “I want you to take something.”

Tucking his gloves under his tacbelt, he fishes a silver band out of his pocket. He takes your right arm in hand, brushing his thumb over the bone of your wrist as he turns your palm over to face the sky. With gentle, unhurried movements, he hooks the bracelet around your arm. The center stone—a clear, unvarnished thing—winks at him when he loosens his grip.

“I can’t follow you to Coruscant. I’m wanted there. I can’t hear you from that distance with an earpiece like we’ve done before either. But this”—he flicks the bracelet—“press the center stone and I’ll be by your side before you even blink.”

After studying the jewelry, you nod—then run your pointer finger over the ink staining the knuckles of his left hand. The feather-light touch electrifies his body enough to send a shiver down his spine. “What do those markings mean?”

Din glances down, tearing his eyes away from your soft features. Rune-like symbols in black ink cover the tan skin of his knuckles. He watches your nail—painted now, a pearlescent white—trace the markings. “It’s my family name. In the Mandalorian language. I don’t speak it very well.”

You lift your face, lips forming a circle, darkened eyelashes fluttering in thought.

He pauses before lowering his voice to a whisper. He curls his hand around the fingers which touch his skin. “You must be safe,” he says. “You’re going where I can’t follow. Tell me you’ll be safe.” You nod hard enough a section of hair falls loose of its pin. He swipes it behind your ear and holds fast to the curve of your neck. “Tell me, Scout.”

“I’ll be safe, Mando.” You grip his forearm, and your eyes soften, melting like soft butter under a warm sun. You ooze a gentleness he has never before seen you wear. He wonders if this is what—who—you were before the galaxy ruined your goodness. “I’m ready for this. I know it.”

“Me too.”

Din Djarin walks you to the hangar bay, his ungloved hand wrapped tight around your warm palm. He says nothing, and you do not fill the silence. You simply allow him to guide you to the loading ramp of the Tetcott, a direct transport route from the outer rim to the inner rim. As you stand on the ramp, last minute passengers bustling behind you to join the crew onboard, he squeezes your wrist.

“Don’t fuck it up,” he says, the weight of everything he cannot convey sharpening his words.

You grin and drop his hand; he already misses the press of your skin against his. “Me? Fuck things up? Never.” You toss him a wink, pausing at the door of the Tetcott; his bracelet slides down the length of your arm when you hold the door’s frame for support. “See you in three days, Metal Man.”

DAY NINETY-TWO—CORUSCANT. THE HUNT BEGINS.

Coruscant sits like a gaping mouth in the center of the galaxy. A deep yawning pit, jagged buildings like teeth, swooping transport like flecks of iron spittle. The city’s hot breath wafts over your skin as you tarry, hesitating at the top of the hangar bay stairs. You look out over the concrete landscape below, the possibility of failure an invisible, lurking beast, and you swallow hard.

Fuck—you are in over your head. Your fingers twitch for the bracelet on your wrist. One push of a button and you can leave. You can retreat to the familiar, the safe. It’s tempting. Mando… he’s waiting for you… It would be so easy to go back to him and tuck yourself under the protective covering of his wings.

But no. No. You can do this. You will do this.

Someone bumps your shoulder as they hurry past and breaks you from the glass shell of your fear. You inhale and, though the city smog catches in your throat, the unfiltered air does you well. The grit and the grime is second nature to you now. Between your own fall from grace and the start of your career in the underworld, you are used to a little dirt beneath your nails.

Fisting your hand in the skirt of your gown, you descend into the heart of Coruscant. Three days—seventy-two hours—four-thousand-three-hundred-twenty minutes. A finite amount of time to find Breeth and end his miserable existence. The clock tick, tick, ticks over your head.

You’ll bring him in cold. After discussing the possibilities with Mando, you decided: dead is best. Though the reward remains the same whether Breeth stumbles into the carbonite freezer breathing or with his brain leaking from his ears, your first solo hunt should be a simple one. The less mess, the less opportunity for disaster—the better.

The dagger strapped to the inside of your thigh burns hot. Soon, you think. Soon.

You have nothing but a name and a general understanding of Breeth’s daily schedule to go by. It’s bare bones; the holo-tabloids you read prior to leaving the Sunder certainly had a lot to speculate about Breeth’s society life but no specifics. Still, it’s a start.

Finding your hotel is easy. Checking in under an assumed name comes with a skip in the beat of your heart when the attendant double-checks your identification, but otherwise no issue. You take the turbo lift to your room and steal a moment to prepare in the plush, otherworldly comfort before setting out to find your mark.

You drop your bag to the oversized, overstaged bed. No amount of pillows (a luxury, if ever you saw one) can calm the rising tide of anxiety in your stomach. You stand poised to set out on your foremost test: a solo hunt, no Mandalorian to guide the way, nothing but raw instinct and skill to carry you from one decision to the next. A shudder runs down your spine as excitement mingles with the nerves in your veins. Devaneer Breeth. Like Kiminn and Setarr before him, you will carve his name in the lining of your soul. A prize for your mantelpiece, a trophy for your gilded case.

Turning from the bed, you glance out the floor length window to your right. Coruscant throbs with energy despite the late hour. A flood of colored lights illuminate the crowded skyline, and you allow your gaze to soak in the hum of the city. The people back on Inora would unravel to see such advanced technology. Even you find your jaw dropping in awe, and you wonder—

A knock on the door. Your stomach clenches. No one should be knocking on your door.

Expect the unexpected. Isn’t that the first rule of bounty hunting? You suppose you didn’t realize the unexpected would come to call so soon.

The sound comes again, followed by a gentle call of your name—your false name—through the heavy wood. Stepping slowly, you unhook the dagger on the inside of your thigh and wrap your fist tight around the handle. You unlatch the door, breathe deep, then swing it open.

On the other side of the door stands a young man, face marred by acne and impressionable youth. In the harsh, sterile light of the hall, you watch his pupils expand as he takes in the skin exposed by your gown. He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. You relax your hold on the dagger and drape yourself against the doorframe.

“Yes?”

The boy thrusts forward a silver platter. “I was told to bring this to you, miss.”

You look down. A single everlily stem rests in the middle of the platter. Long white petals with forked blue pollen buds in the center; a delicate, nearly translucent stem that glistens beneath the light.

Meeting the boy’s stare with a lifted brow, you point to the flower. “I didn’t order this.”

“No,” the boy says, shaking his head. “My boss told me to bring it to you. It’s from Din Djarin.”

“I don’t know a Din Djarin. I think you’re mistaken.”

“I’m just the messenger, miss.” He pushes the platter forward again. “But, if I may, there were many men—and women—who watched you from the bar as you checked in. Maybe Mr. Djarin is waiting for you there?”

“Hmm.” You accept the flower with a measure of hesitation. “Perhaps…”

You dismiss the boy with a wave of your hand and the slide of a few credits after a moment of consideration. Returning to the solace of your room, you twirl the everlily between your fingers. Din Djarin? You haven’t the faintest idea who that might be, but at least you are now sure of one thing: The credits you spent on your ridiculous and revealing outfit were worth it. Breeth will crumble under the strength of your appearance alone. Surely he will.

Your only goal this evening is to locate Breeth and weasel your way into his circle. You can kill him later—tomorrow perhaps—but tonight you want him comfortable in your presence. That is an obtainable objective; at least, you hope it is. Mando taught you to start small, so you will follow his advice. You would drown if you focused on the island in the distance; it is best to concentrate on each stroke of your arm through the waves.

After dabbing perfume on your neck and wrists, you exit the hotel into the warm night air. Breeth’s fob pulses like a heart in the pocketbook under your arm. You step to the beat of his heart, strides long and hips loose. As you follow the path Breeth’s fob carves through the city, your mind wanders. You should be more mentally disciplined, especially on such an important mission, but Mando—his skin—his hand: it all flashes before your eyes in vivid color. Gods, he’d taken his glove off for you. For You. Your chest twists with sick delight at the memory.

Golden, his skin is golden; flecked with sunlight, pierced with the ink of his people. You want to slide your tongue between his knuckles and taste his flesh, drink the musky sweat that gathers between his gloves and feast on whatever he will give you. Your body still tingles with his lingering touch, even all these hours later, and the pinpricks of anticipation for more spur you onwards.

The faster you slice Breeth’s throat the faster you can return to your Mandalorian in shining armor.

Breeth’s fob leads you to a towering hotel four blocks from your own. The building—all glass and glittering metal—bleeds luxury. It drips like diamonds from the entryway chandelier, blankets the soles of your heels as you cross the marble floor. A farmgirl like yourself—you shouldn’t be here; you were not made for a life such as this. But the building’s elegance buoys your confidence rather than strips you clean of your surety; and when you catch a glimpse of yourself in a mirror, you smile. You blend in, yes, but you should blend in. You must become one in a long line of women in sleek gowns hanging on the arm of a suited man in an ornate bar.

You can do this.

Finding the bartender, you order a glass of something mild enough to take the edge off of your nerves. The alcohol smooths through your veins, and you lean your back against the bar to survey your surroundings. A cluster of low tables and leather tufted chairs, dim lights and candles to illuminate each place setting. Humans and non-humans alike mingle throughout the room, speaking in quiet, delicate voices. The air smells like dignity and grace, like pomp and power. You’re definitely in the right place. Now all you need to do is find Breeth and turn on the charm.

You slide away from the bar. Thoughts about Mando be damned. Thoughts about your decimated and lonely farm on Inora be damned. Let this night be about you and your success alone. You’ve come so far. Like Icarus, you will soar beneath the sparkling sun and shine.

Sitting in the center of the room, his arm draped around the chair of a man about your age, Devanner Breeth sips from a wine glass. He is younger than you anticipated; perhaps fifty or so name days under his belt. He sits tall, shock of white hair luminescent in the dark room. Regal nose above a thin mouth, broad shoulders and a salt-and-pepper beard. You lift your stemmed glass to your lips. Not half bad. Shame you’ll have to end such a pretty face.

You clear your throat, leaning forward to break Breeth’s intimate conversation. “Excuse me?” The polite phrase melts from your mouth, husky, dripping with intrigue. Breeth turns from the man at his side, and his brow arches in question. “Are you Devanner Breeth?”

His head tilts; Mando’s helmet following the same gesture bursts in front of your eyes, but you shake the image away. “Yes. Who is asking?”

“I read your scientific journal. The one on astral cloning. I had to come and speak with you. Maybe ask you a few questions. If you’ll let me...”

“Huh…” Breeth leans back in his chair, evidently impressed. His eyes widen then drift across your face, your chest, the snug pull of your waist. “Did you now?” He gestures to the chair opposite him. “What’s a pretty girl like you reading a boring old paper like that?”

You lower yourself to the seat across from him. You prop your chin in the palm of your hand, tugging your lip between your teeth. “Can’t a girl be pretty and like science too?”

“I suppose so.” Turning to the man next to him, Breeth nudges his shoulder. “What do you think, Daniel?”

Daniel considers you at Breeth’s request. Silver grey eyes framed by white lashes harden to ice, and you resist the urge to stiffen as Daniel rakes you over with a hard glare. When he leans forward and a forked tongue slides from behind his painted lips, you take a sip of your drink to keep from grimacing.

“What was your favorite part? Of the paper on astral cloning? Tell me which section caught your interest first.” There is a possessive quality to Daniels’ tone, one you take care to note Breeth responds to with a firm hand to the shoulder. Daniel sits back, angling his body closer to Breeth’s, though his unyielding gaze remains fixed on you.

You swirl what remains of your drink in the bottom of your glass before asking: “Are you trying to gatekeep a politician?” Daniel’s eyes narrow; Breeth’s chest puffs at the challenge in your voice. “Don’t you know how desirable Mr. Breeth is?”

Rising from your seat, you place your glass to the side then drop your hands to the table. You hoist yourself onto the slick surface. The table adjacent yours quiets with an astonished hush. In a place like this, painted pretty with luxury and high-class, a girl crawling over the table stands at odds with the self-contained air of the room. Your skin grows hot with the weight of a dozen eyes, but all you see is Breeth. The strong line of his jaw above an elegant neck, perfect for the cutting. You grin—all feline and sure—as you crawl, hands and knees, closer to your bounty, your prize.

“I’m sure you know, Daniel, how even the silliest of girls want to fuck Mr. Breeth,” you continue. “But the smart girls… the ones with brains in their heads instead of vacuous waste… we want to fuck him too.” You arrive at the edge of the table where your face hovers over Breeth’s. Warm, fresh breath washes over your face, and you grin as his pupils expand . “A big cock is only made twice as delectable when there’s more than brawn to back it up. Don’t you agree, Mr. Breeth?”

A spark, a flash of desire, and you’re in. Tick, tick. The clock over Breeth’s head begins its countdown. You have him in your grasp. Men—predictable—easy every time. Your smile widens.

Lunging forward, Breeth wraps his hand around your throat, tugging you close so that his mouth can claim yours. It’s an ugly mash of teeth and tongue in a room that calls for the slow caress of romance. You swallow a gasp. He does not—cannot—affect you. Though the hot slide of his tongue through your mouth feels good, ignites pale embers in your gut, you have a better man—a man of brawn and brain and braggadocious ego—waiting for you elsewhere. Him—you fan the flame only for him.

“I like you,” Breeth says, pushing you back by the neck. His voice betrays none of the delighted blush staining his cheeks. “Come with us to the opera. You can sit by me. You won’t mind that, will you, Daniel?”

Daniel blinks. Despite his frosty complexion, fire drips from his eyes. “No… Of course not.”

“Good.” Breeth rises from the table. “Then we’ll go.” Grinning, a mischievous glint in his eye, he extends his hand to you and pulls you down from the table. He presses his firm chest to yours, and the steady beat of his heart urges your rapid, hammering heart to slow. “We’ll go together.”

You’ve never been to an opera. Never had any reason to go until now. Never had the opportunity either. Inora was hardly the hub of culture and high-society. A backwater, molasses-slow dump more like. Oh, how you wish Jeelia were by your side. She would dissolve like sugar on the tongue to see such elegance, such grace and poise. You wish—you wish you could tell her about this, about your adventures… If only your fervent wishing could turn dreams into a reality. If only you could wake the dead with the yearnings of your heart alone.

No time for wishing. No time for dreaming. Only single-minded focus.

The Coruscant Opera House makes Breeth’s hotel look like a wart on the backend of a hog. The vaulted ceiling stretches higher than what your eyes can focus on. A flock of white nesting birds glide from potted tree to potted tree, chirping around the music played by a string quartet in the building foyer. Creatures of all shapes seem to parade across the waxed, marbled floor; and floating chandeliers sparkle off of jewels and gowns and suits alike.

Devanner Breeth smirks and pats the hand cushioned between his elbow and forearm. “Quite glorious,” he says.

You unhinge your jaw from the floor and clear your throat. “Yes. Exquisite.”

“I helped design the lighting mechanisms, you know.” As you come to the bottom of the grand staircase leading to the theatre, Breeth pauses, pointing to an ornate chandelier suspended above your head. “How is that for brains, my dear?”

You follow the line of Breeth’s finger, and true, the design is genius. The light appears to hang on its own accord, no string or rope to hold it secure. It spins in a slow circle, casting prisms of rainbow hues over the walls and floor. Impressive—and Breeth knows it. He watches you study his creation, and you feel his eyes sift through the minute reactions on your face. Is he intrigued by you? Amused? It’s hard to tell. What you do know is his ego rivals Mando’s. You can smell it, that thick layer of arrogance coating his tongue, sweetening his words with pride. He wants you to oogle, to lap at his feet like a dog.

Fine. You can do that.

Leaning to the side, you dip your chin and squeeze Breeth’s arm with your fingers. “I’ve heard other rumors about you,” you whisper. Your voice drags like silk sheets over a soft mattress. “About other things you can do…”

“Oh really?” He angles his head in curiosity, lowering his voice to match yours. “What sort of things?”

You glance over your shoulder. It’s part of the act—the bashful socialite, fluttering her lashes and avoiding the curious gaze of others—but the moment affords you time to force your stomach to settle. It’s a risk to push things further, to attempt to part the overgrown branches that obscure Breeth’s hidden agenda, but you have to chance it. You need to know—for certain—what you are dealing with.

“Well”—you trail your nail over Breeth’s wrist and avoid his eyes; the more demure the better—“a little birdie told me you can do more than clone the stars…”

Breeth nudges your chin with his finger, forcing you to meet his stare. “What more can I do?”

You blink. “Cloak—you can cloak ships.” Pause. “Or… something…”

Criminal first. Prideful man second. The momentary spark of fear in Breeth’s eye tells you enough: You have the right man. You’re on the right track.

Attempting to smooth ruffled feathers, you toss your head back on a high giggle. “But I’m not even sure what that means! It’s just something my brother said to me. I may be smart, but even that sounds a little out of my depth.”

Breeth frowns. Opens his mouth. You hold your wide smile, despite the tremble rising to your lower lip. Did you go too far?

Daniel cuts Breeth off before he can speak. “Devanner.” You turn in time with your mark; Daniel stands at the top of the staircase, his hand offered to the politician. He does not look at you. “They’re about to open the curtain.”

“Oh goody!”

You drop Breeth’s arm and hurry up the stairs, grabbing Daniel’s waiting hand with a nail-biting grip. He spins on his heel, and you hasten down the carpeted hall. Grunting in disdain, he mumbles beneath his breath as you pull him toward Box Eleven, the designated loge afforded the richest of the rich. To your great relief, you hear Breeth chuckle at your girlish glee, and his return to aloofness sets your worry at ease.

In the plush, padded theatre box, Breeth sits in the row closest the balustrade. Daniel takes the seat on his left, and you lower yourself to the armchair on the right. The house lights dim, and the alcove fades into the background of the theatre. You inhale, run your gaze over the hundreds of attendees beneath the balcony. Like a sea of ignorants—unaware of Breeth and his hand in the death, the untimely ruin, of thousands; unaware of you and the knife that slips across the sweat in your palm… just in case.

When the opera begins, Breeth gives you a warm smile which you return in kind. He settles into his overstuffed armchair and taps his finger to the beat of the music swirling through the room. Comfortable, vulnerable, exposed.

If it weren’t for Daniel or the two armed guards hovering by the door, you might attempt to slit Breeth’s throat now. No one would need to know you were ever even present; you’d be gone like a ghost in the night. You could simply use the cover of darkness and the volume of the opera to smoother Breeth’s screams. A simple, easy job; a good way to get the whole ordeal over and done with. It would get you back to the Sunder sooner, too. Back to Mando…

You glance over your shoulder and take stock of the guards by the door. Heavily armed men, sure, but nothing you haven’t taken down before. Daniel, too. Fuck, you could tip his scrawny ass over the balustrade and be out the door before he hit the floor below.

Your heart beats against the confines of your chest. Should you do it? Make a go of it now?

What would Mando do?

A cool hand slides over your wrist, fingers nestling between yours. Your train of thought derails as Breeth leans over the arm of his chair. He maintains a tight focus on the soprano in the middle of the stage, but he whispers low and steady in your ear: “I knew you were coming.”

The muscles in your lungs tighten. Your jaw grinds over your teeth.

“That’s the thing about bounty hunters,” he continues. “Either silent as the grave or loose lipped, haughty to a fault.” Without turning his head, his eyes carve a deep path to locate your face. “Can you guess which camp you fall in, dear?”

I—knew—you—were—coming.

Oh fuck. The dressmaker on Xaxeris. You’d… you’d talked too much. When standing on the fitting box, as the elegant Kaminoan took your measurements, you’d talked and talked and talked. Excitement for the job got the better of you, and you divulged your newest bounty, the secrets you held in the fob at your side, and now—oh fuckfuckfuck.

Cold shame washes over you, draining the blood from your face. You move to pull your hand from Breeth’s grasp, but he holds tight. “That’s right. I have friends in all places. It pays to stay alert.”

You’ve failed. Barely a day into the mission and you’ve already bungled it beyond repair. The dressmaker told Breeth you were coming. He’s been waiting for you all along. Of course it was easy to weasel your way into his circle. Of course he’d brought you to the opera without a second thought. None of this evening’s success was built by your skill. He knew you were coming.

He knew you were coming.

The shame churning in your gut turns to anger as you imagine the disappointment in Mando’s voice when you return without the bounty. Well, you can’t allow that to happen. He’s given you his skin, his protection, his trust; the least you can do is bring him an offering that proves yes, I’ve listened and yes, I’ve learned.

Jumping to your feet, you lunge over Breeth’s chair, curved dagger lifted high over your head. Daniel shrieks and topples from his seat as Breeth tips to the right in self-defense. You grab the scruff of Breeth’s neck, blind rage painting your vision scarlet.

But you are kicked to the floor before you can strike.

A firm boot to the center of your chest, and you fall. Something snaps below your lung, and you swallow a pained scream. A guard moves to press the muzzle of his blaster against your forehead, but you kick the inside of his shin and stab your knife between his kneecap and closest tendon. He howls, staggering to his uninjured knee.

You roll to the side of your body that doesn’t scream out in pain and attempt to wobble to your feet. Your heel catches on the hem of your gown, and you stumble as you try to stand on unsteady legs. Maker, it hurts to breathe. But you have to get out—get out, get out—before you are truly, irreparably injured.

The exit remains closed, but you can make it if you can manage to avoid Breeth—and Daniel—and the remaining guard. Lurching forward, you grab the back of a chair to steady yourself. The world spins. Someone grabs your shoulder, but you wrench free with a sharp heel to the toe.

Blood pools in your mouth, and you cough. Spittle blankets the red carpet beneath your feet. Pain eats at your stomach. Oh shit, you can’t make it. You can’t breathe.

Another hand on your arm, and you spin, untucking a throwing star from the cleft of your breasts. Though the blade slides your right breast, you flick your wrist and listen for the gurgle of a sliced throat. But nothing so pleasant tingles your ears. Just a dull thump.

When did your vision start going spotty? Why does it hurt so much to breathe?

Why are you such a fuck up?

A wallop to the back of your head sends you crashing to the floor. You groan, press your palms to the carpet, try to lift yourself. A leather shoe returns your face to the floor, your cheek to the bloodstained carpet. A bone in your face groans under the pressure. A hot tear slides over the bridge of your nose.

Breeth crouches beside you, and the devil-may-care affect is no more. He is nothing but sin now.

He grabs your cheeks between tense fingers, further irritating the bruised bone in your face. You wince, but maintain his beady stare. “You’ve come for the wrong man, my dear.” He lifts your arm and jingles the bracelet on your wrist. Tearing it from your body, he snaps the jewelry in half and drops it on the floor. “Say goodbye to your precious Mandalorian.”

You do—you do, you do, you do. Fuck, Mando…

I’m sorry.

You say goodbye, and what remains of your heart crumbles like a house of cards—

—and all goes to darkness.

NEXT CHAPTER

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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deniigi · 3 years

Text

Blame @petrichordiam for this.

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Title: centerstage

Summary: An academic goes to a conference and is jazzed to see a jedi speak there. He unknowingly sits next to this jedi’s Support Squad.

The jedi Support Squad is like 85% clones, and 15% Jedi Generals.

No one mentions that the jedi speaking has never done this before and is petrified out of his blessed little mind.

*Anakin is like 19-20ish here.

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Sion Jissard has spent the last ten years of his life in the dredges of archives, digging through documents and testing fibers found between the flimsy, papery pages of old texts—scrounging for clues to recreate the conditions of the great conference halls and small, tucked away offices in which some of the most powerful people in the galaxy once gathered to whisper and shout over the fate of whole planets.

He has a hypothesis that the conditions in those rooms affected the decisions made in them. His hypothesis is strong enough that it has endured several rounds of peer-review and escaped those vulture-like clutches mostly unscathed in published form—both in journal and, his chest swells to recall, in book formats.

His book has sold several hundred copies and been cited in a plethora of upcoming article submissions.

The last eight years of tension in his marriage has eased in light of this. The salary from the professorship obtained in light of the book certainly hasn’t hurt it either.

His two doctorates are set on the wall of his office and when he receives word that a conference on ‘Intergalactic Unionism and Peace Negotiation’ is to be held in two months time, he opens up the speakers list and raises his head to gaze upon those two solid frames.

There will be jedi speakers at the conference. Several, actually. The whole thing is to be held on Coruscant, in the small visitors’ wing of the Jedi temple itself.

Sion Jissard pinches the fabric of his suit and then lightly slaps at his cheek to make sure that he is not dreaming.

He has only recently begun studying the jedi order’s material world and the role that world plays in their intergalactic peace-making practices. Prior to this, he considered the subject too on-the-nose. Jedi studies are rampant. Everyone wants a piece of that pie—the allure of it being that the jedi themselves, scholars in their own rights, refuse to partake in examinations of their culture.

They are notoriously obstinate. Their grandmasters refuse to let outsiders into their archives. Their masters shut down any and all attempts to obtain interviews or transcripts or documents with empty expressions or gentle, pitying smiles. Their knights blink with confusion at personal and personal-adjacent questions, and the little ones, the apprentices, are shielded behind all of these people as though the elbow-padded questioners are threatening their precious little lives.

In short, the jedi are happy to listen but loathe to teach. If you are not one of their soldiers or one of their fellows, they will lie to your face and tell you that it is their religion to do so.

And yet here they are, offering up a scholar’s wetdream and even allowing a handful of their own to present on their areas of expertise.

Sion Jissard will pass up this opportunity only upon pain of death.

He applies for the conference as a participant, not a speaker, and is delighted to receive confirmation of his place within mere minutes.

He puts the date on his calendar and starts looking into transit to Coruscant for the event in two months time.

Sion arrives on Coruscant, at the foot of the Jedi Temple itself, and stares up at it for so long that he begins to feel sick to the gills.

He fumbles for his confirmation at the little table set up in the interior courtyard behind a side-entrance door. He is distracted by the fact that the woman he is standing in front of is a Jedi. She is helped by two small children and holds a baby who is dead-set on unraveling the knots that decorate her thick waist band. Even the baby is dressed in double-collared cream-colored robes.

Sion has so many questions he wants to ask.

The jedi asks him for his name. She has a collection of name badges before her, but none of them are his. He gives his name and the master turns to the little girl sat at her right elbow with a brush in hand and instructs her to write it out.

The jedi child—not an apprentice, her robes are cream still, there are no additional earth-colors layered on top of it—writes Sion’s name in beautiful script on a little card and hands the card to the master, who puts it in a holder with a pin on it and places it into Sion’s hand.

She instructs him to go through the side door and enjoy some refreshments before the event begins. The baby in her lap looks up at her abruptly and bonks his sweet little head against her chin.

Sion forgets himself.

“How old?” he asks automatically, gesturing to the baby.

The master looks down into her lap.

“He is eight months and 75% lung,” she says affectionately.

“Ah. Mine was like that, too,” Sion says. “He grew out of it. He’s only 40% lung now.”

The master smiles.

Sion removes himself from her table before he embarrasses himself further.

There are enough people inside the front room of the jedi’s visitor’s wing to nearly fill it to capacity. The volume, though everyone is whispering, is great enough to be heard from outside the door. The room itself is earth-colored with a high ceiling. Its walls all contain niches with rounded borders. Columns with deep-cut creases in them arch high to the skylights.

It is all beautifully geometric, stoic, and clean. And even though the walls and floor are built from materials of warm tones, the skylights overhead and the surrounding addtion of books and holorecords set into the walls lend it a cooling quality.

What should have been imposing architectural feels more like holy space. The room is one that reverberates with reminders to respect all around you.

Sion’s fingers yearn to document this, but there is a sign right by the room’s entrance that asks politely for no recordings or holographs to be taken.

“Professor Jissard,” a familiar voice says.

Sion feels his whole body droop. He turns to see Teo Detras stood before him in his obnoxious, roaring red robes.

“I’m pleased that you too were able to secure an invitation, sir,” Teo says as though he has not attempted to place Sion on the metaphysical chopping block for each of his premises since the time they began their academic programs.

Sion opens his mouth to point out that this is also his area of study and that Teo has no monopoly on the field of Jedi architecture when a quiet passes over the room. Sion watches the heads around him lift and searches for the source of the sudden shudder of silence.

He finds it in a tall master with dark skin standing at the very front of the space. The man has tucked his hands neatly into the mouths of his sleeves.

He is Jedi Master and General Mace Windu. Sion has read and reread his essays, not caring so much for what he is talking about but how he is talking about it. His metaphors and examples should have been insight into the common experiences of those living in the Jedi temple.

Sion has found, however, that Jedi Master Mace Windu does not especially care for eloquence or metaphor. He cares only to methodically destroy the argument (if it could be called that) published by a jedi named Qui-Gon Jinn many years ago. Though Master Jinn has not published for several decades now, Master Windu’s writings remain agitated by his interpretations of the jedi’s Spiritual energy, the Force.

Just gazing upon the man now, Sion would not think him capable of agitation.

Master Windu welcomes the academics to the temple and says that he regrets not having more time to speak with each of the attendees as individuals, but there is a war on and his clone troopers require his services. He encourages people to refrain from any recordings of the temple due to its sacred nature, and he asks that attendees be mindful of the jedi Initiates (the white-robed children) who are confused and intrigued by all of the non-jedi people inhabiting their usual playroom.

He cautions everyone that if anyone slips on a toy, he warned them, and the temple is not liable for their medical bills.

This is a joke.

People are unsure of whether or not to laugh. Some laugh awkwardly far too late. Master Windu gives no sign on his face that he appreciates or disapproves of this.

Instead, he steps from his space of honor and leaves in his place a young man with feathery blonde hair and a highly expressive countenance, who drops his armload of documents on the floor obnoxiously and flings himself down to snatch up only the conference program, as if this was the most efficient way of finding it.

People know to laugh this time.

The young man begins announcing panel topics and rooms and give his strong opinions on each of them.

More people laugh. It feels less like a sin.

“And that’s all, my dears and darlings,” the young man says, “Mind your step into the conference rooms, our predecessors derived joy from an unexpected drop.”

Sion has only one panel that he will kill at minimum three bodies to sit in on. It is the one on peace strategy and resource management. He is not here for the peace strategy or the resource management parts of the talk; his burning interest yearns instead in listening to how and if people talk about their space and things. He wants to write down the language they use. He wants to learn about the physicality of peace.

He thinks ‘The Physicality of Peace’ would make a very compelling title for another book.

So he slips through the arched doors of conference room 3 and finds himself in a tiered lecture theatre. There is a small balcony with rows of pew-like benches that hangs over a lower seating area. He takes a seat at the edge of the front pew and sets his datapad on his lap for note-taking. At the front of the room there is a long bench—not a quite table, but definitely a tall bench, and behind it, there is an enormous screen for displaying images and information. Someone has very kindly thought to place a jug of water and some cups at the center of the bench by a microphone.

Sion gets the impression from its awkward, dead-center placement that it is an addition that the jedi themselves usually forego.

He wonders what that means. He only wonders for about 15 seconds before a hand touches his shoulder and he jerks in alarm.

“My apologies, sir. We were just wondering if the space next to you is available?” says the smooth-faced, copper-haired man standing above him.

He is wearing white armor on top of his layered robes. The arms and legs that emerge from his long off-white tunic are dark in color, but his boots are hard and white and come up and over his kneecaps.

Sion is speechless.

This is General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi.

General and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi has touched Sion’s shoulder and apologized to him.

He doesn’t have words. He can only make fish-mouthed motions and then point and nod.

General Kenobi accepts this with grace and stands up straight. He waves behind him to call his companions over to join him on the balcony’s edge.

They arrive as a pack.

Instead of coming around and staggering past Sion’s knees at the edge of the bench, General Kenobi climbs over its back and settles in. He then twists back over the row and holds his hands out; a Clone Trooper in full armor hands to him a strange bundle of woolen, brown robe. It produces legs and arms and then bright blue and white lekku once Kenobi has situated it next to him.

“Fooled ‘em,” the little Togruta that emerges from the cloth says brightly.

“Shh,” Kenobi says. “Cody, you next.”

“No, I want Rex to sit with me.”

“Ahsoka, shhh.”

“Rex.”

“Child, this is how people like me get banned from meetings; you’re not even supposed to see—”

“REX.”

“HUSH. Okay, okay. Rex. Pst. Cody, get Rex. Cody, oh for the love of—Wolffe, yes—no. Wolffe, look at me. Get Cody to get Rex.”

Sion cannot believe what he is seeing. General Kenobi appears to be sneaking half of his command into the balcony area. There are more than a few clone troopers there are at least twenty. They are somehow visibly excited despite their matching helmets. The General is able to tell them apart easily. He leans over the back of the bench again and crooks his finger at one of the troopers who leans forward. He tells them to throw something at their commander.

The Clone takes off his glove, stands, and nail a clone standing in the aisle in the head with it. The slap of contact makes this clone cease speaking in serious low tones with a clone decorated with blue edging in front of him. The first clone draws himself up perfectly straight and turns around with a fury that even Sion can feel the heat of.

His armor is painted yellow in places.

He holds the glove in his hand like a threat. The clone who threw it winces and points wordlessly to General Kenobi, then sits down in a hurry. Kenobi smiles wide and white. He has freckles on his face that do not appear on any of the images of him that appear on the news.

He’s also shorter than Sion himself, even sitting.

“Sir,” the white and yellow clone says stiffly.

“Rex,” Kenobi says through that threat of a smile. “Get over here.”

The Togruta child twists around excitedly as the clone in white and blue exits the conversation with the one in white and yellow and surveys the rows of his fellows piled into the space behind the General and the child. He has to squeeze past the line of knees and then climb over the bench to sit down next to the child, who immediately cuddles up to him.

“Hey, that’s my seat,” a new voice whispers.

Sion looks back to see General Quinlan Vos with his arms crossed over his chest, recognizable in any setting. Behind him is General Koon. General Kenobi slaps a hand to his forehead and grumbles, then shoos the blue edged clone and the child a few seats down.

The generals clamber just as awkwardly as the blue clone through the sea of knees of the troopers and then over the back of the bench.

Somehow, Sion has won the jackpot. He is now surrounded by jedi culture, literally.

“All of you, back,” Kenobi snaps down the bench when everyone is just starting to get comfortable. “Cody. Commander, come here.”

The clone trooper with the yellow edging does not want to play this game. He shifts his weight back onto his other heel as Kenobi pats the newly vacated space next to him. General Vos croons in a teasing tone something about Kenobi being especially fond of this clone.

Kenobi lurches out across the empty seat to punch him in the gut and then returns peacefully to patting the space over the sound of Vos’s moaning.

The Clone Commander has no choice. His general is giving him a directive. He gives in to the inevitable and makes his way through the knees and—much more neatly than the others—steps over the back of the bench to its seat and then into sitting. Kenobi beams at him, practically purring.

Sion needs desperately to take notes, but the subjects of said notes are right there and rudeness is intolerable in retaining his vantage point.

He fights the urge to vibrate in space as the lights begin to dim overhead and the panel chairman comes out to introduce the topic and speakers. It is only about a minute or so when a hand lands firmly on Kenobi’s right shoulder—the one by Sion’s arm. Sion jumps, but Kenobi resolutely stares directly down at the speaker.

“Obi-Wan,” Master Mace Windu’s low, low voice says right into the space between Kenobi and Sion’s ears, “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?”

Kenobi begins to melt but catches himself.

“You didn’t for a while,” he said.

“Get her out of here.”

“She has a right to see her Master.”

“What part of these orders are challenging for you?”

Kenobi still does not turn around to see Master Windu, but his eyebrows sink and his brow becomes more pronounced.

“No padawans,” Master Windu says. “Ahsoka. Out.”

The togruta, still bedecked in that heavy cloak, turns to stare owlishly at Master Windu while the person at the front of the room moves on to introducing the next speaker.

“But I’m not a padawan,” the child says. “I’m obnoxious. Master Kenobi said so.”

Kenobi holds his face in a hand.

“You can be both. Come,” Master Windu says, holding out a hand.

“But I’m a cloak,” Ahsoka tries instead.

Kenobi crumples further. Master Windu’s hand finds his shoulder again. Sion can feel its heat.

“If not her, then you,” he says.

“After,” Kenobi says.

“I’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

Master Windu vanishes from behind them. Sion shudders. Kenobi turns to the side and hisses at Ahsoka,

“Now look what you’ve done.”

“You’re my co-conspirator,” Ahsoka hisses back. “My—my—Rex, what’s the word?”

Clone Commander Rex does not want to give her the word. Ahsoka tugs at him.

“Rex,” she insists.

“Enabler,” Commander Rex says with bitter regret coating his words.

Ahsoka beams over the laps of the other Generals at Kenobi. He glares back through a squint. He starts to say something, but General Vos tells him to shut up in a sharp tone.

Sion looks back to the front of the room and finds that a young man with dark hair has come out to the center of the front table-bench to speak.

He is a jedi. His robes, however, are dark in color. Blacks and browns with knee-high boots.

He’s very young. Very, very young.

And nervous.

Very, very nervous.

Even from the balcony seats, Sion can see his hands shaking. He is holding a stack of white paper. It is trembling like a branch on a windy day.

“Go, go, Master, go, go,” chants little Ahsoka.

Sion finds himself abruptly appalled by the realization that the child on center stage is the master of the child a few seats over from him.

General Koon gently shushes Ahsoka. Commander Rex helpfully wraps a gloved hand over the bottom half of her face to keep her distracted.

Sion looks from them to the young man and finds that he’s already knocked over the jug of water on the bench and looks about ready to sob about it. He gathers himself, though, and brings the microphone closer to him.

He is General Anakin Skywalker, Sion now understands. He is the first speaker and he’s never in his life presented a paper at a professional conference before.

His voice shakes as he reads out the title of the article that he published (and that Sion has read) on battlefield surrender. After the second paragraph, Sion brings a hand to his lip to help him contain the emotions that come with the understanding that this boy is about to read his article, word for word, in front of a room full of academics.

He thinks now that he has been too harsh with his students.

General Skywalker is not a strong public speaker. Clearly, his expertise is in action. He stammers. He loses his place in his reading and accidentally rereads three whole sentences. Only twice does he look up from his paper, and each time it is not at the audience but at Obi-Wan Kenobi, sat next to Sion, serious as a plague.

Kenobi nods sagely.

General Skywalker is General Kenobi’s apprentice. Was General Kenobi’s apprentice. However, it is clear to all who are present today that General Skywalker is still General Kenobi’s apprentice. Desperate, the poor thing is, for Kenobi’s reassurance.

His confidence in reading grows under his former (current?) master’s approving eye until he turns a page and—horror of horrors—drops the stack of paper.

Sion’s whole body tenses in sympathy and second-hand embarrassment. Skywalker flings himself down and messily collects the papers. He hurriedly reorders them, all while stuttering ‘ums’ and ‘uhs.’

Yet, when Sion chances a peek down the line of Generals next to him, he finds that not a single one has winced. No one has laughed. Even the clone troopers all around them are as silent and steady as the night itself.

It seems like they are all listening intently to their young General on center stage. The only giveaway that sympathy is being had by any is the tiny gesture Clone Commander Rex is making with his hand. He is moving it almost imperceptibly in a circle, as if to say ‘come on, come on.’

Sion looks back to young Skywalker and waits patiently as he finds his place and carries on reading again, this time faster. This time he does not look up for his master’s eye.

He wants only for the torture to end.

He gets to the end of his paper without dropping it or repeating himself and is flushed red. He does not ask for questions. He merely says quietly into the microphone, “Thank you.”

The panel chair waits a beat before walking over to Skywalker and asking the crowd for questions on his behalf. Skywalker becomes even more luminous. Sion cannot decide whether asking a question would be more or less stressful for this poor boy.

No one asks a question.

The panel chair then starts to ask for applause for Skywalker, but before he can even finish the sentence the whole balcony breaks into uproar.

General Kenobi hoots and whistles piercingly in Sion’s ear. General Vos claps and shouts what sounds like ‘You FUCKING did it, kid. You FUCKING did it. Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH,” the Clone Troopers behind General Vos finish for him in perfect unity.

“Hip-hip—”

“HUZZAH.”

More applause and congratulations erupts after this.

General Skywalker slams his paper into his face and bursts into tears at the front of the room.

He bolts for a doorway that Sion hadn’t even noticed was right next to the bench. General Kenobi whacks at his Clone Commander’s shoulder, and Commander Cody wraps hands around his waist and hoists him up so that he’s standing on the guardrail at the edge of the balcony. He leaps from there to the lower level then goes jogging out the same doorway his former apprentice ran through.

After another moment or two, Commander Cody stands up and snaps at the whole collection of troopers in their language. Everyone shuts up and sits back down. Commander Rex gestures for Ahsoka to put up her hood and takes from General Vos a small datapad which he gives to the child—presumably for her to occupy herself with for the next hour and a half of papers. She takes it and immediately becomes absorbed in its lightly-glowing screen.

The balcony is once again on its best behavior.

Sion doesn’t bother with listening to any of the other papers. He feels no shame at all in beginning to furiously take notes on his last twenty-five minutes with the jedi.

Upon leaving the conference room nearly two hours later, he finds himself swept up in the clone troopers’ swift and orderly exit from the space. They line up outside the hall in lines by regiment and they wait for their commanders and generals to arrive before marching back towards the visitors’ wing’s exit.

After two or three minutes, only two lines remain.

Clone Commander Rex and Clone Commander Cody stand perfectly at attention beside their lines of men. Clone Commander Rex has his jedi’s apprentice thrown over his shoulder; he has balanced her on one arm while she sleeps.

It’s very sweet. She obviously trusts the Clone Commander very much.

“Gentlemen.”

The clones snap to even tighter attention as General Mace Windu appears, walking briskly their way.

“You’re dismissed,” he says to them. “Commanders, you will remain. Obi-Wan and Anakin will join us shortly.”

“Sir,” both commanders say simultaneously.

There is a pause, and Sion sees that all of these people are now looking at him.

“Can we help you, sir?” General Windu asks.

Yes. And Sion will pay any amount of money to just know this one thing. This teeny, tiny detail.

“Sir?”

“Is that normal for you?” he blurts out.

The Clone Commanders stare. The general stares. The apprentice coughs lightly in her sleep.

“I regret to say that it is not only normal, but expected of these general and units,” General Windu says. “Please vacate this area.”

Right.

“Thank you,” Sion says.

He stiff-legs it back to the crowd of other academics and hunts down a liquid to soothe his parched throat.

The new book’s title will not be ‘The Physicality of Peace.’ It will be ‘All is Fair in Love and War: The Jedi Order and Ideologies of Family, Part I.’

--------------- Yeah, so anyways, Myth and I decided that Anakin is bad at public speaking and nothing anyone says can take this from me now, I’m invincible. (If you want this on Ao3 let me know).

#anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #the clone wars #clones #guys sometimes anakin is allowed to be cute #but only like every so often I don't want him getting uppity #and thinking I actually like him or something like that #ahsoka and rex's relationship is everything to me #fic #ficlet

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mandos-co · 3 years

Text

@brothersdrxke betcha didn't know I'm SECRETLY A FANFIC WRITER anyway blame @royalhandmaidens it's all their fault. I swear it's not always like this I do have Some Skill but I'm tired™

The Fur Cloak

Din Djarin/reader

[no warnings]

(based on the original design concept art that Din should have had a fur cape)

The walk toward this supposed contact's favorite cantina was nice. This particular moon was an ocean of rolling hills of light blue grass that sprawls on for miles, only breaking around sparse groves of tall trees that reach toward one another to form canvases of drooping, viny tendrils of dark blue leaves. The distant sun is bright, the breeze is gentle and smells almost sweet.

It's a lovely change from the arid landscapes you're so accustomed to on the Outer Rim. The kid seems to be enjoying it, too. Then again, it could have more to do with the fact that you allowed him to walk on his own.

You'd spent longer than expected in the cantina. Your contact was late, he had absolutely none of the promised information that could have directed your company toward more Mandalorians, and the waitress took an eternity in delivering the kid's soup and your warm drink.

By the time you were leaving the quiet little town, the sun was vanishing behind the moon's planet.

And suddenly, you aren't so fond of this particular moon.

Din warned you about the temperature dropping after sunset. He'd crammed an extra blanket into the kid's satchel while you pulled on an extra shirt to wear beneath your jacket. You figured he was warm enough, beneath his base layer, the flight suit, the beskar armor, and the pelt around his shoulders.

Unfortunately, halfway back to the Crest, with the temperature still plunging, you realized that your spare shirt was not going to be enough to retain body heat. But, it's all you could've done while still maintaining full range of movement.

You're passing the same treeline you'd been so pleased to admire earlier in the day. The blue vines swaying in the breeze had been endearing before, but at the moment, you'd rather they stop reminding you of the icy chill that keeps billowing beneath the turned collar of your jacket. You're considering scaling every tree in sight to rip it all down when your Mandalorian turns toward you.

"Are you cold?"

You hadn't been giving him an ounce of attention. Your head whips toward him like a bantha caught in the lantern of a landspeeder. "What?"

"You're shivering." A beat of silence, and you imagine he's watching you shake again. Because he just had to go on and remind you of it. "A lot."

You chuckle, tucking your fingers under either arm. You turn back toward the dirt path stretching on before you. Of course he noticed. He always notices. If you hadn't witnessed his supervigilance firsthand, you'd think he only ever had eyes for you. "I'll be fine. Not far to the ship."

Moving your jaw seems to remind your muscles that they can, in fact, shame you further for making them freeze. Your teeth start chattering, though quietly, so you try clenching them to keep quiet.

He's the one chuckling now. He shakes his head, reaching up for the fastens on his shoulders.

Your head turns again. "What're you–?" The dark brown pelt is slinking off his shoulders before you can stop him. "Din, I'm alright, really–"

It swooshes gently against the breeze as he repositions his grip. "Just take it. Like you said, it isn't too far. I'll be fine." He tucks the metal clasps over your shoulders and hooks them together at your throat.

You shrug into it, taking a fistful of the soft interior to pull it closer and tighter around your torso. "But the kid's using it too–"

"Great," you can hear the smile in his voice as he carefully takes the bag's strap over his head and holds it out to you. "You hold him, and we'll all be warm."

You hesitate. Is he warm? The flightsuit is insulated, to fend off some of the chill of space. The beskar is damn near magical; it probably has some kind of absurd insolation properties, too. Plus his undershirt...

You take the bag, ever so skillfully sliding the strap over your head without disturbing the thick cape that's presently doing all it can to defend you from the cold.

The kid tiredly grumbles, snuggled down in the depths of the bag with his spare blanket, but falls silent again once he's situated at your hip, once again sheltered by the cape.

Din tries to be subtle about looking at you. He tries not to let on that he's admiring the way his pelt absolutely engulfs you. He tries to act like he isn't imagining you wearing it anywhere and everywhere. Like he isn't imagining you huddled under it in his pilot's seat, book open in your lap while you monitor the controls for him. Like he isn't thinking about you snuggled beneath it in his bed. Like he couldn't possibly consider what you'd look like with only his cape on–

"Hey. Din?"

When his conscience catches up with reality again, you're staring at him with an eyebrow raised and a glimmer in your eye. Like you know exactly what he's doing. Kriff.

"Hmm?"

"You okay there? You've been staring at me for three minutes." The lit of amusement in your tone, and the quirk at the edges of your lips speaks volumes.

He swallows. "Fine." His gaze is set back on the path. The long path. The three of you have walked much farther in much worse conditions, but the walk suddenly seems too long. He's quiet for a long moment, but you're still throwing him suspicious glances. Still bundled in his cloak. "It suits you."

"What?" You raise your shoulders for emphasis, "The fur?"

He nods.

You glance down at the way it bumps against the ankles of your boots. You want to gush about it.

It's so warm and the inside is soft. It smells like a perfect blend of him and the sweet fresh air. It's heavy, but not on the way that a rucksack weighs terribly on tour shoulders—more in the way that an expensive blanket presses against you. You don't even want to think about the implications that you're wearing his cloak.

And all you can think about is how ridiculously glorious this would be to have in that chilly cockpit, book open in your lap, while he's off dowing whatever has drawn him away.

Better still, how it would feel on every inch of your skin.

Your face is already warming.

"I like it," you agree, trying to pass off a casually teasing smile. "I think it looks better on me than it does on you," that's a filthy lie, "might just have to steal it."

He'd let you. If it meant he got to see you slink around his ship with his cloak wrapped around you, he'd pay you to take it. And, of course, you'd be warm. You'd never complain about the chill of hyperspace. He'd never have to worry about weather or not you had enough blankets when you slept alone. He'd never turn to see goosebumps blooming up your arms while you sit in the copilot's seat.

He's struck with the mental image of you, dozing off in the seat to his left, his brown cloak bunched around your shoulders, the kid curled up in your arms. His heart swells in his chest, almost painfully.

He snaps back into reality again when his foot catches on a rogue rock that some idiot left in the middle of the path.

Your arm jerks out from beneath the pelt, snagging a hold on his arm before you process that he caught himself. You laugh loosely. "Maker, if it's that big of a deal–"

"You should wear it more often," he blurts.

You still. Hand still hooked around his bicep, eyes boring through his visor, lips parted. You recover as quickly as he does. "I should–? Really?"

You're standing in the middle of the path like a pair of fools for a moment. Just staring at one another.

He's long since straightened himself, wiggling free of your grasp only to reach up, tugging the edges of his cloak snugger against you. "Yeah. You should."

The rest of the walk is quiet. There isn't so much as a goosebump on an inch of you.

You decide that maybe this moon really isn't so bad after all.

#din djarin #din #mine #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #oh my god who let me do this #the mandalorian x reader #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian imagine #not me writing for a new character for the first time in three years

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years

Text

HASO, “Dye and Diversity.”

Hope you guys enjoy the story today

Yeb stared.

She tilted her head this way and then that, and then continued to stare on the other side.

A soft sigh, “My eyes are up here.”

Yeb looked up to where the human was staring at her ascance his head slightly tilted.

“What?”

“Sorry dumb joke.”

He pulled to a stop, and the strange wheeled chair below him pulled to a halt.

She stared some more, “That is so strange! It looks so fun!”

Her interjection seemed to surprise him, and he glanced down at the chair, “Um, I suppose I’ve never thought about it. It’s kinda fun sometimes. I don’t use it much.”

Yeb waddled behind the chair and clambered up on two little pegs she saw jutting out from behind, “Why not?”

“Well usually I can walk, and it is generally frowned upon to use a wheelchair if you don’t need one.”

Yeb felt a rush of wind as he pushed the chair forward, and they began to roll slowly down the ramp, “Well why not?”

He laughed and shook his head, his earlier sour demeanor lost behind grim amusement. A few of the others came to join them as they rolled downward and off the platform. Yeb lifted her eyes wide-eyed in shock as she stared at her strange and unusual surroundings, and the massive interior docking bay of the space station…. To think! An entire city built in space! Looking around she could see ships of many sizes and designs, and other unfathomable and strange creatures hurrying this way and that.

A thought came to her, “Why aren’t you using the arm sticks?”

“Arm sticks…. Oh the crutches?”

“Yeah.”

“My arms are sore from using them, and plus the wheelchair seems safer on the station. I'll Be less likely to trip and get hurt.”

“Oh ok!.”

It still surprised her to no end that the human had even managed to survive without a leg. At first she thought he might have been born with that deformity. On her planet, while it was possible to survive with an issue like that it was not very common at all. She could think of only one Tricar she had seen live to adulthood in such a condition. There were always complications, plus, while Tricar were semi-social they tended to live only in mating groups and abandon their pups at a very young age.

If you couldn’t survive to adulthood in the cold metal mazes of her planet than that was a personal problem.

She climbed up higher onto the back of the human’s wheeled chair to get a better look. She wobbled dangerously in her excitement, her hands and feet not exactly built for climbing with her stubby fingers and large flat feet.

With wide eyed excitement she looked all around them marveling at the diversity of lifeforms. There were so many of them!

She pointed to one, eyes wide, “What alien is that!”

The human turned his head to look then frowned “What do you mean?”

“That one right there!”

He frowned and looked again then laughed, “Oh well Yeb, that is a very tall human.”

“Oh, she frowned.” It sure didn’t look like any of the other humans she had seen, sure it was the same general shape, but it just looked so different that she couldn’t have been sure. But she supposed now she could see the resemblance. Like a stretched human.

“How about that one!”

The human continued to smile, “That is a human with a lot of fat, Yeb.”

“Oh…. what is that?”

“Er, like blubber but not really.”

That translated better and her ears flipped back over her head in mild understanding, “Oh, I get it, so those humans must be from cold climates, and that’s why they have insulation?”

“Not exactly.”

Her head turned and she pointed to another group, “Are all of those humans too!”

“Yes all of those are humans.”

“So pretty!” She exclaimed, they came in such interesting and new color combinations, ice white to stone ebony. Granted they all looked human, but the diversity in them was so astonishing that it was hard to believe they could all be the same species. As a biologist herself she might have assumed that maybe they were under the same classification, like fish, and how fish all sort of looked the same but that didn’t mean they were in the same biological category.

“Are they all the same subspecies?” she wondered.

“Yes.”

“Really? But they all look so different!” on her planet while they did tend to be diverse in height, their fur was generally always the same color, a grey white.

“There used to be other subspecies of humans a long time ago, but then they slowly started to die out. At the end it was only the Homo Sapiens and the Homo Neanderthalensis. Both of them coexisted for a while and even interbred but then the Neanderthal died out leaving only the Homo Sapiens with some Neanderthal DNA in certain cases,so we are all that's left, and our diverse lifestyles have given us different adaptational traits despite being the same species.”

She stared at him enthralled by this strange revelation about humans.

“For instance, in the middling areas towards the equator, things are a lot warmer and the light of the star hits the Earth directly, so humans kept their original dark skin color as protection against UV rays which can cause DNA mutations leading to cancer. A lot of times humans towards the equator tend to be taller and leaner which helps them to not overheat.”

“Your planet has a climate that diverse?”

“Yes, we can be as cold as your planet, or more than twice as hot.”

She stared wide eyed and shuddered at the thought.

“In fact, where I grew up we had seasonal changes in temperature. In the summer it was about thirty degrees hotter than the comfortable level I keep on the ship, and in the winter it could plunge to temperatures well around your home world.”

“How does anything survive in a climate so varied?”

“With air conditioning and heaters.” he said smiling, “Anyway, humans slowly began to move north, and as they did the rays of the sun couldn’t cut so easily through the atmosphere, as they were angled. That meant less UV light actually making it to earth. Problem is, humans need the sun to create certain vitamins used in the body. Darker skin helped to block the sun's rays when they become too much, but when there is less sun it isn’t so easy, and so humans developed lighter skin tones that were more vulnerable to sun damage but more easily allowed for the creation of those vitamins. In addition humans in higher climates tend to be shorter and stockier to conserve heat.”

“So…. you can tell where a human comes from?”

“You can tell where their ancestors come from.”

“So your family is from a cold climate?”

He smiled, bright white teeth showing the light above, “Yep, my ancestry stretches back to Russia, Norway, and other assorted parts of north eastern europe, but my family has lived far away from those places or the past few thousand years.” He smiled, “And yes, I can trace my lineage that far back. We’ve had pretty good record keeping for the past few thousand years considering we have internet databases stretching back about that far, and massive archives.”

“Wow/” She muttered quietly, “And I don’t even know who my mother was.”

The human raised an eyebrow at her, but by that time she had already transitioned to looking and pointing at something or someone else. She loved looking at the humans, they were so diverse and strange, and there was always something new to see. Sometimes it was their clothes sometimes it was their skin, sometimes it was their hair,

Sunny, the big blue Drev, placed a hand on the human’s shoulder in a quick gesture, “I am going to go look for the parts, I’ll get back to you in a minute ok?”

“Cool, bring me a working leg when you do.”

“She snorted but nodded and walked off,while he and the others continued onward.”

Yeb lifted her head in wide eyed wonder watching as they passed down a dark hallway from the docking bay, and then out, into an absolutely massive room. It was so large they might as well have been outside, a huge curving room in the shape of a doughnut that went around for miles and miles in either direction. Much of the ceiling above the mwas covered in some sort of see through glass structure giving her a view of space outside,and the rest of the expansive station highlighted by thousands of stars and hundreds more blinking lights.

Voices echoed and warbled all around them as hundreds and thousands of people filtered through the station like slow moving ice water. The room was so large that they had even built structures on the inside, which rose up many stories into the air glittering with colorful neon lights. She saw hundreds of aliens slipping in and out of these buildings and passing overhead on catwalks high in the air, talking, chatting and walking together.

It was all so alien and she was so excited.

She almost fell off the back of the chair as her unfit feet and hands slipped off a climbing surface. A hand steadied her from behind, “Don’t get too excited.”

She was pleased to find after that that the humans were very interested in bringing her around and showing her all of the new things. WIth her ability to eat a wide variety of food, she even got to try and taste some of their more strange concoctions, both excited and repulsed by some of them.

They walked past another shop whose brightly glowing lights attracted her like a moth to a flame and she backpedaled. Sounds pulsed and throbbed around inside her head and brightly colored pictures decorated the walls. On the inside, she watched in wide eyed fascination as one human sat patiently arm exposed, as another inked a pattern onto their skin with a whirring machine. The colors they used fluoresed under the strange blue light above.

A hand on her shoulder, “that is probably a human tradition you don’t want to experience.”

“What?”

“Tattoos, injecting ink directly into your dermal layer through use of tiny needles.”

She cringed a bit, “Why?”

“Because you can get cool pictures.”

There was a hum from beside her as one of the other humans walked up, “Maybe not the tattoo, but…” She trailed off and pointed to the other side of the room where humans were sitting in chairs leaning back as other humans painted strange chemicals on their fur. One of them stood up, and when she did, her hair was long and blue.

Yeb stared, “You change your fur color!”

“Yeah all the time.”

Adam rolled up behind them, “I don’t know if that's a good idea, we don’t know what kind of chemicals….”

“Well there is only one way to find out.”

They turned to look at her, “Want to dye some of your fur a cool color?”

She was so excited all she could manage was a squeak. The thought was so strange and exciting. There was only one fur color on her planet, to think that she could just go and change it!

Why hadn’t her people thought of this!

“YES!”

Her enthusiasm seemed to surprise them, but with smiles they were very encouraging and walked in with her as one of the humans came to greet them, “What can we do for you.”

Maverick patted Yeb on the shoulder, “Our alien friend here would like to go a different color.”

The human looked down and started with a frown, “Er…. what…. What are you. You don’t look like any Tesraki I’ve ever seen.”

“That's because she’s not. A new species, just coming into the galactic community. Anyway what do you say?”

The human paused then shrugged, “Long as you sign a waiver saying that we aren't responsible for any allergic reactions or damage to the hair of an unknown species, then sure.”

They glanced at Yeb, and she waved it off, “Let's do it!”

It was probably a horrible idea to have a team of humans not exactly known for their good life choices cheering on a naive Tricar as she chose bright neon green which was supposed to be at its brightest on the top of her hair and fade down slowly to the furn on her back.

The humans were excited all around, and she drew a small crowd as they began the process.

She probably should have been more concerned not sure what the chemicals would do to her, but nothing ventured nothing gained: that was a human expression she had learned just a few minutes ago, and she really liked it.

Warm water ran through her fur, and then a strange sticky paste was applied to it. Shehad to sit around and wait for a little bit as the color set, and then sit around some more as they washed the residual color out. When they were finally finished, she was turned to face the mirror, and her eyes went wide again.

Her grey white fur, against the bright neon green!. She turned back and forth watching the light glitter over the bright color.

“Wow.”

“Wat have we done.”

“I love it!” She exclaimed, leaping out of her seat to look at herself more readily in the mirror.

She watched as Adam leaned over in his seat and passed his arm over some sort of device.

Se assumed he was paying for it and was quite pleased walking out of the shop with her new fur enjoying the eyes on her as she passed.

It wasn’t long before some of their other companions returned. Sunny turning to look at Adam with a frown, “What did you do.”

He raised his hands, “Oh come on, its harmless, na look at how happy she is. Come on.”

Sunny rolled her eyes..

“Spirits give me strength.”

Yeb capered around the group, rubbing her paws through her newly colored fur. It didn’t feel any different, but she sure FELT different.

She was sure she was going to really enjoy all these strange human things.

Then again.

She had really only experienced the good things.

It would remain to be seen if she was going to be able to handle the darker side of humanity.

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carnegiemuseumnaturalhistory · 3 years

Text

Understanding Fossil Fuels through Carnegie Museums’ Exhibits

by Albert D. Kollar, Collection Manager, with assistance from Suzanne Mills, Collection Assistant, and Joann Wilson, Volunteer Section of Invertebrate Paleontology

The exhibits of Carnegie Museum of Natural History and Carnegie Museum of Art are ideal for a multidisciplinary study of fossil fuels in Pennsylvania and beyond. Such a study must properly begin with some historical background about the landmark Oakland building that houses both museums, as well as some background information about fossil fuels.

When the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh opened in 1895, the architects, Longfellow, Alden, and Harlow incorporated roof skylights for maximum daytime lighting in the Italian Renaissance designed building¹. Nighttime activities were illuminated by interior gas lighting fixtures, possibly supplied by the Murrysville gas field, which began production in 1878. With the opening of the Carnegie Institute Extension in 1907, the Bellefield Boiler Plant was built in Junction Hollow to supply in-house steam heat and electricity from bituminous coal¹. From the 1970’s, coal and natural gas had been used to heat the boilers that supply heat to the Oakland Campus, Phipps, the University of Pittsburgh and the Oakland hospitals. In 2009 coal was eliminated as a fuel source. Electricity on the other hand, is supplied through Talen Energy from multiple sources (coal, gas, and renewable energy sources). For the future, Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh plans to receive its electricity from renewable solar energy via Talen Energy².

What are Fossil Fuels?

Coal, oil, and natural gas (methane), known collectively as fossil fuels, are sources of energy derived from the remains of ancient life forms that usually are found preserved in coal rock, black shale, and sandstone.

Figure 1.

Coal is a rock. The coalification process starts from a thick accumulation of plant material in reducing environments where the organic matter does not decay completely. This deposit of plant residue that thrives in freshwater swamps at high latitudes forms peat, an early stage or rank in the development of coal. With the burial of peat over geologic time and a low temperature form of metamorphism produces a progression of the maturity or “rank” of the organic deposits that form the coal ranks of lignite, sub-bituminous, bituminous, and anthracite³ (Fig. 1). The Pennsylvanian Period was named for the rocks and coals of southwestern Pennsylvania that formed more than 300 million years ago.

Oil and natural gas, collectively known as hydrocarbons, were forming in the Devonian rocks of Pennsylvania between 360 and 390 million years ago. These hydrocarbon deposits or kerogens are made of millions of generations of marine plankton and animal remains that accumulated in a restricted anoxia ocean basin that extended from southern New York, through western Pennsylvania, northern West Virginia to eastern Kentucky⁴. The thick layers of sediment formed black shales or mud rocks such as the Marcellus Shale. Black shales are rich in oil and gas and are called source rocks. Sandstones such as the Oriskany Sandstone that is older than the Marcellus Shale is a reservoir rock. An amorphous mass of organic matter or kerogen undergo complex geochemical reshuffling of the hydrocarbon molecules first with burial then by thermal “cracking” as heat and pressure through the geologic process of metamorphism over millions of years transform kerogen into modern day fossil fuels⁴.

Fossil Fuels in Modern Society

As commodities converted to fuels for our modern world, these resources account for 80% of today’s energy consumption in the United States⁵. All three fossil fuels, in furnaces of vastly different design, have been used to directly heat homes, schools, workplaces, and other structures. In power plants, all three have been used for generating electricity for lighting, charging mobile phones, and powering computers, home appliances, and all manner of industrial machines. In the United States, coal became the country’s primary energy source in the late 1880s, displacing the forest-destroying practice of burning wood. It ceded the top spot to petroleum in 1950 but enjoyed a late-20th-century renaissance as the primary fuel for power plants⁵. Coal now generates approximately 11% of our country’s supply down from 48% just 20 years ago. Natural gas is currently used to generate approximately 35% of US electricity supplanting the use of coal⁶. While petroleum is less than1%⁶.

Transportation accounts for approximately 37% of total energy consumption. Coal played an historic role in powering railroads, and both compressed natural gas and batteries (charged with electricity generated from various sources) are of growing importance, however, refined oil products currently power 91% of the transportation sector⁶.

Figure 2.

In the early 20th century, scientists warned about how the burning of coal could create global warming in future centuries by raising the level of carbon dioxide, a greenhouse or heat-holding gas, in the atmosphere. (Fig. 2). It took less than a century for evidence to mount of climate change associated with the burning of fossil fuels, the clearing of forests associated with industrial scale livestock production, and from waste management and other routine processes of modern life. In recent decades headlines have routinely proclaimed the risks of a warming planet, including damage to terrestrial ecosystems, the oceans, and a rise in sea level⁷.

Fossil Fuels and Museum Geology Displays

When architects Frank E. Alden and Alfred B. Harlow designed the Carnegie Institute Extension (1907), they incorporated Andrew Carnegie’s vision to create an introduction hall to the museum named Physics, Geology and Mineralogy⁸. This hall (the forerunner to Benedum Hall of Geology) was intended to introduce Pittsburghers to the regional natural history subjects of geology, paleontology, and economic geology (fossil fuels)⁹.

Figure 3.

In the 1940s, the 300-million-year-old Pennsylvanian age coal forest diorama was installed in a corner space of what is now part of the Benedum Hall of Geology (Fig. 3). Because coal converted to coke is a vital ingredient in steel production, this three-dimensional depiction of the conditions under which Pittsburgh’s economically important coal deposits formed was (and remains) an important public asset.

Figure 4.

In 1965, as part of an overall plan to bring more of the natural history museum’s fossil collection to the public, Paleozoic Hall opened with funding from the Richard King Mellon Foundation¹⁰. This exhibition featured nine dioramas that recreate the ancient environments through 290 million years of Earth history. Sadly, only one of the nine units remains on display, the diorama depicting the Pennsylvanian age marine seaway (Fig. 4), in the Benedum Hall of Geology.

Since the Benedum Hall of Geology opened to the public in 1988 the exhibition has featured an economic geology component with displays explaining differences between coal ranks Lignite coal to anthracite coal, and a variety of Pennsylvania’s crude oils and lubricants processed from the historic well Edwin Drake drilled in Titusville in 1859 (Fig. 1 )¹¹.

Figure 5.

Today, the Hall’s “strata wall,” a towering depiction of some of the rock layers found thousands of feet below western Pennsylvania, is in my opinion, an under-utilized display in terms of conveying information about fossil fuels. Although the wall is not currently documented with any geologic information, minor changes might allow visitors to use the lens of rock strata to better understand historical events such as the Drake Well, and economically important geologic reservoirs such as the Marcellus Shale (the second largest gas deposit in the United States), the natural gas storage reservoir of the Oriskany Sandstone, and the gas and liquid condensate (ethane) extracted from the Utica Formation (Ordovician Age) for making plastic products at the Shell Cracker Plant in Beaver County, PA (Fig. 5).

Figure 6.

Elsewhere in the museum, visitors can learn more about the topic of fossil fuels at several other locations. At the Holzmaden fossil exhibit in Dinosaurs in Their Time, there is a large fossil crinoid preserved in a dark gray limestone of Jurassic age, that represents a reservoir of crude oil in Germany (Fig. 6). At the mini diorama of the La Brea tar pits, oil seeps from natural fractures from an approximately six-million-year-old rock of Miocene age, to the unconsolidated surface sediment in what is now part of the City of Los Angeles (Fig. 7).

Figure 7.

Looking for Fossil Fuel Evidence in Art

In 2018, I reviewed 58 landscape paintings and the John White Alexander wall murals on the first and second floors of the Grand Staircase within Carnegie Museum of Art (CMOA) galleries to look for artistic documentation of what I interpreted to be causes for climate change based on the science. I found many examples based on the use of coal as a fossil fuel for power and coking in steel mills and the natural formation of bio-methane as portrayed in ecosystem landscapes of the industrial age of the middle 19th and early 20th century¹².

Figure 8.

Figure 9.

Searching for the CMOA landscapes paintings takes a little patience, but the visitor is rewarded by taking a new look at some of the art museum’s classic paintings (Fig. 8 and 9).

Figure 10.

Within day trip visiting distance of Carnegie Museums are historic plaques highlighting the discovery of coal on Mount Washington, natural gas in Murrysville, and oil in Titusville, Pennsylvania. (Fig. 10). At all three stops you’ll have a better understanding of the significance if you begin your investigation of fossil fuels at Carnegie Museums.

Albert D. Kollar is the Collection Manager for the Section of Invertebrate Paleontology. Suzanne Mills is the Collection Assistant and Joann Wilson is a volunteer Section of Invertebrate Paleontology.

References

1. Kollar, A.D. 2020. CMP Travel Program and Section of Invertebrate Paleontology promotes the 125th Anniversary of the Carnegie Library of Pittsburgh with an outdoor walking tour. https://carnegiemnh.org/125th-anniversary-carnegie-library-of-pittsburgh-outdoor-walking-tour/

2. Personal communications Anthony J. Young, Vice President (FP&O) Carnegie Museums of Pittsburgh.

3. Brezinski, D. K. and C K. Brezinski. 2014. Geology of Pennsylvania’s Coal. PAlS Publication Number 18.

4. Geology of the Marcellus Shale. 2011. Brezinski, D.K., D. A. Billman, J.A. Harper, and A.D. Kollar. PAlS Publication 11.

5. https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2021-05-03/coal-consumption-in-the-u-s-declines-as-natural-gas-solar-wind-energy-rise

6. United States Energy Agency (EIA) 2019.

7. Bill Gates. 2021. How to Avoid A Climate Disaster.

8. Kollar et al. 2020. Carnegie Institute Extension Connemara Marble: Cross-Atlantic Connections Between Western Ireland and Gilded Age Architecture in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. ACM, 86, 207-253.

9. Dawson, M. R. 1988. Benedum Hall of Geology. Carnegie Magazine, 12-18.

10. Eller, E. R. 1965. Paleozoic Hall. Carnegie Magazine, 255-338.

11. Harper and Dawson 1992. Benedum Hall-A Celebration of Geology. Pennsylvania Geology, 23, 12-15.

12. Kollar et al. 2018. Geology of the Landscape Paintings at the Carnegie Museum of Art, a Reflection of the “Anthropocene” 1860-2017. Geological Society of America, Abstracts with Programs, v. 49, 243.

#Carnegie Museum of Natural History #Fossil Fuels #Anthropocene #Coal #Natural Gas

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that-sw-writer · 4 years

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p l e a s e write a drunkkylo x reader id love u forever

I am SO GLAD you requested this, thank u for giving me an excuse to write it!

Also I was loving the concept of a Knight of Ren!reader and Kylo so seriously might explore this for a mini-fic in the future.

PART TWO | MASTERLIST

Summary: When a mission to Zeffo requires an overnight stay, the Knights of Ren can only find liquor for dinner.

With you and your leader making eyes at each other, chaos is bound to ensue.

Word count: 2664

Warnings: heavily implied sexual content, drunk sex, alcohol consumption, reader is a Knight of Ren

Intoxicated

It had been a long day.

The Knights of Ren had been on the trail of a Sith artefact, one which Kylo Ren was so desperate to get his hands on that he had actually joined the mission. It had been a long time since Master Ren had even trained with you all, let alone come on a mission with you.

The mission had led you to a small settlement on the planet Zeffo, but with night falling and everyone losing energy, Kylo had eventually caved and told you all to find somewhere to stay for the night. Since the Empire had raided the planet years ago, it was largely deserted which meant that there were plenty of abandoned homes. Most them were small, which meant that you weren't all going to fit into one. Sure, you had all crammed into tighter spaces, but there was no need to tonight considering just how many empty homes there were.

You all eventually found four homesteads in a row, each enough to house two people. Between the seven knights and the Supreme Leader you had enough to pair off and stay in twos. You gathered in the living area of one of the homes, everyone raiding the cupboards for something to eat, but all you could find that wasn't majorly outdated was a lot of unidentifiable liquor.

None of you had any quarrels about who would stay with who. They were your brothers, and none of you were at all uncomfortable around each other - although all of you silently knew that Master Ren would be the least fun person to bunk with. Since becoming Supreme Leader he had distanced himself from you all. Whereas he had once laughed along with you, these days he was much more stoic. But that wasn't to say that any of you felt awkward around him - you knew how much he cared for you all, even if he didn't outwardly show it.

"Looks like it's a liquid dinner." Trudgen stated, passing bottles around to everyone. Kylo momentarily attempted to refuse, but he quickly succumbed to peer pressure from all of you.

Everyone had removed their helmets and outer armour to get more comfortable. The interior of the homesteads was slightly dusty, but it was far nicer than many of the places you had stayed over the years.

You sat down on the floor between Cardo and Ushar, taking the smallest swig to taste-test the liquor. It was sweet, with only the slightest burning sensation as it slipped down your throat. You could hold your drink just as well as your brothers, but you were definitely the worst when it came to suffering from a hangover. You silently vowed not to get too wasted, otherwise you'd be in a whole lot of trouble in the morning.

As Zeffo's sun set, you all exchanged your usual small talk, exchanging memories of the past. But eventually the topic turned to pointless drinking games, which you all indulged in. Except Kylo, who had been all but silent up until now as he took intermittent sips from his bottle.

It was a stupid game, but one which you always seemed to end up playing when you all drank together. You went around the circle asking each other admittedly probing questions, and if you didn't want to answer, you would have to drink. The idea was that the more you refused to answer, the more drunk you would get, which in turn meant that you would definitely become more willing to answer.

"Ap'lek, is it true that you've been eyeing up that medic who's been attending our training sessions?" You asked, a smirk on your lips. You were undeniably feeling a bit tipsy, but you were certainly holding it together.

"No." He immediately scoffed.

"You're such a liar." Trudgen snorted from beside him, and everyone else agreed. It was so obvious when one of you wasn't telling the truth, you all simply knew each other too well.

"Fine, Y/N how about you and that Captain who seems to follow you around like a lost puppy? Don't tell me you haven't got your eye on him." Ap'lek threw your question back in your face, and you let out an obnoxious laugh, but before you could rightfully deny this, Kylo spoke for the first time.

"Which Captain?" He snorted, and just judging by his tone you could tell he was starting to feel the effects of the liquor. His sudden interjection took you all aback, and your brow furrowed momentarily in confusion.

"Captain Buckley," Vicrul jumped in, "everywhere Y/N goes, he also seems to go."

Kylo leaned forward at this, a challenging smirk crossing his lips, "and you like him?"

You knew that the answer was no, but part of you saw this as an opportunity for mischief. If Master Ren suddenly decided to be invested because a random Captain had a crush on you, it wouldn't hurt to keep him involved in the game.

With a smirk matching his own, you brought your bottle to your lips and took a long drink, not breaking eye contact with Kylo as you did. He simply slowly sat backwards, his eyes not leaving yours.

Everyone's gazes darted between the two of you, and the rising tension was catching everyone's attention. Normal people would have avoided this elephant in the room, but not the knights, you all loved to wind each other up - and Master Ren was no exception to that.

"Master Ren..." Cardo was the first to boldly address a question to Kylo in this game.

"Go on." He prompted, seemingly drunk enough to play along now.

"Given the choice, who would you stay with tonight?" The answer seemed obvious to everyone in the room, even to you given the way Kylo kept staring at you.

He brought the bottle to his lips seemingly about to avoid the question, but he paused at the last moment and lowered it. "Y/N. She pisses me off the least." There was a playful tone to his comment, but it didn't dampen the fact that he had chosen you.

"I'm honoured to be your choice by default." You replied with a snarky remark.

From there the questions only got more and more personal, the knights all questioning each other about people they may or may not have hooked up with recently, and even Kylo got involved in grilling his knights.

The knights were all flirts, you included. Spending that much time around the boys made their energy rub off on you, although for some reason your beer goggles had decided that tonight that flirtatious energy was going to be directed at Kylo.

"Master Ren, do you ever hook up with people?" You no-so-innocently asked, taking another sip of your own drink. So much for not getting too drunk...

Even in their own drunken states, everyone looked a bit shocked at your bold question, but equally they were intrigued about the answer.

Kylo narrowed his eyes at you, he knew the angle you were playing so he indulged it. Just not in the way anyone expected. Rather than answering or drinking, he exhaled a long sigh.

"I think it's time we called it a night." He said, "big day tomorrow." Without another word he rose to his feet and walked into the bedroom, which was just behind a nearby blast door.

"Um okay, looks like you're staying here Y/N." Trudgen concluded as they all rose to their feet and began to file out, Cardo clapping you on the shoulder as he walked past.

"What?" You spluttered, "we never decided on who's bunking with who!" You protested.

"I think Master Ren made it pretty clear that you're staying with him." Ushar smirked at you, "the rest of us will work it out as we go along."

"We'll see you in the morning." With another teasing grin, your fellow knights all left, and you inhaled a deep breath.

Draining the remaining contents of your liquor bottle for liquid courage, you walked through the blast door that Kylo had gone through moments ago.

The room was small, and there was only one large bed. Usually this wouldn't be an issue, but tonight you could have cut the sexual tension between you and Kylo with a knife... something you had never really experienced.

When Kylo emerged from the refresher, he was shirtless. Again, usually this wasn't an issue, but tonight you properly looked at him for the first time. Maker he was built like a brick wall, dotted with cuts and scars, some fresh and some old - similarly to how you were scarred.

"Were you just planning on standing there and staring all night?" He asked, nonchalantly. He never normally spoke this openly, hell, any other day he would probably scold you for staring at him and flirting with him. But alcohol does funny things to people.

Taking the hint you slowly nodded and began to strip yourself of your remaining layers of clothing. Usually just your undershirt was good enough for sleeping in.

"Yes, by the way. I used to." He suddenly spoke, causing you to turn around and face him.

"Used to what?" You asked, brow furrowed.

"Your question. You asked if I ever hook up with people." He reminded you, and you found your heart beginning to race.

"Right... but you don't anymore?" You raised an eyebrow, slowly walking towards him.

"Being Supreme Leader doesn't leave me much time." His eyes were clearly swimming a bit, "besides, I just couldn't seem to find the right person."

Through all the years you had known Kylo Ren, you had never heard him be so open. Perhaps the phrase 'drunk words are sober thoughts' really did apply to him.

"And in the eyes of the mighty Kylo Ren, what makes for the right person?" You quietly asked, now standing right before him - only the smallest gap between you both.

He didn't reply at first, he just smirked at you, his eyes occasionally flicking down to your lips. "I'm not sure yet, but you could always try and show me." He eventually said.

"What a line." You snorted, teasing him, but rather than telling you to shut up he just closed the gap between you and finally released some of that drunken sexual tension that had been building all evening.

Neither of you did much talking from there, it was more a case of clothes being torn away, you being thrown onto the bed, and Kylo showing you possibly the best night of your life - but you would never tell him that. It would make him far too smug.

When you eventually did both go to sleep, Kylo had his arm loosely slung over your waist but you barely had any time to rest. The sun rose only a few mere hours after you had shut your eyes, and the light was only exasperating the headache you woke up with.

It took you a second to adjust to your surroundings, your brain slowly reminding you of what had happened. You had stayed overnight on Zeffo with the knights, and there had been no food for dinner, so you all just aimlessly drank liquor to pass the hours. Then Master Ren had started flirting with you, and then... oh.

You slowly turned around, but the other half of your bed was empty. Perhaps it had all just been a crazy dream? It would certainly make things less awkward this morning if it had been, although judging by the fact that you had no clothes on beneath the thin covers, that wasn't looking likely.

Slowly getting up, you ignored the dull ache in your head as you searched for some clothes to put on. You eventually found your underwear and a top to pull over your head - it was large enough for you to wear as a dress, so you figured it must have belonged to Kylo. But it would do temporarily until you could find him and then you could both locate the rest of your clothes,

When you stepped out of the bedroom, he was the first thing you saw. Wearing only a pair of trousers - presumably the ones he usually wore with his tunic. You cleared your throat awkwardly to get his attention, and he looked up at you.

"You're awake." He pointed out.

"Just about." You stifled a yawn as you spoke, "where did you get the food?" You suddenly asked, spotting what was in Kylo's hand - it looked like fruit, and it looked delicious. Although, considering you hadn't eaten in many hours, anything looked delicious right now.

"Where did you get my shirt?" He mimicked your words and tone, a small smirk settling on his lips. Despite now being sober, he was still acting a lot looser around you - and you liked that.

"It was all I could find on the floor." You shrugged. You were relieved that this exchange wasn't awkward, if anything you seemed to be talking more casually with him now than you ever had.

"I'll need to wear that later." He was clearly flirting with you, so you decided to go along with it.

"Then I guess you'll have to take it off me." You were on your way to boldly make a move on him. The sex had been amazing, so if there was time you didn't see why you couldn't go for round two, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard a throat being cleared from the other side of the room.

Kylo just smirked down at you, "the boys found the food and were nice enough to bring us some." He simply said, before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "but when this mission is done we can finish that discussion."

Turning around painstakingly slowly you had to awkwardly grin at all of your brothers, who all just stood with smug and mocking smirks plastered across their faces. You had really hoped to keep this a secret, but secrets between the knights were non-existent for a reason.

"Sleep well?" Ushar asked, clearly teasing you.

"Actually yes, I did thanks." You shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

"We have a lead on the artefact, so maybe you should go and get changed. Like Master Ren said, he'll need his shirt back." Trudgen then jumped in to ridicule you a bit, and you admittedly did suddenly feel embarrassed.

"This isn't going away anytime soon." You grumbled under your breath as you walked back into the bedroom, Kylo just smirking as he watched.

"Nope." The knights all said in unison, their smugness still evident.

And of course they were right. After dressing and eating some of that mysterious looking fruit, you all set out, and throughout the day you were subjected to the smallest digs every now and then. Kylo didn't seem to mind, in fact he seemed to find them so funny that he even made his own jokes at your expense.

"It's freezing in here." ��You had grumbled as you all trekked through an icy cavern.

"I'm sure Master Ren wouldn't mind warming you up." Cardo snorted, causing the others to also snicker.

"So help me Cardo, I will choke you to death." You said through chattering teeth.

"Careful, she's into that." Kylo breathed a laugh, everyone else letting out cackles.

"You are such a-" you were about to scold your own leader when he wrapped his cape around your shoulders for extra warmth and gave you a strong pat on the shoulder as he overtook you to lead the group.

Despite the relentless teasing you suffered, and would likely continue to suffer until the day you died, it was all worth it when you were back from your mission and into the warm. You had 'innocently' gone to return Kylo's cloak to him, and spent the first of many nights there.

Sneaking out in the morning was going to have to become second nature... Not that you could ever hope to keep it a secret from the rest of the knights.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x y/n #kylo ren imagine #kylo ren #kylo x reader #kylo x you #kylo x y/n #kylo ren request

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cl-01-kestis · 3 years

Text

My Little Rebel - Inquisitor!Cal Kestis x Female Rebel!Reader | Part 9

Summary: You start the journey to restore the Jedi order, but things get a little tricky when your force bond with Cal gets a bit stronger.

Warnings: slightly nsfw

The bed was uncomfortable, stiff even. You tossed and turned all night and couldn’t seem to settle. You didn’t resort to the sofa or sleep on the floor, you decided to get up and pace around the ship for a while, pouring yourself a generous amount of blue milk and gulping it down since your body felt like it was on fire. You were sweating profusely, you even had two towels underneath each arm because sweat trickled down your sides and your back was layered with it.

You didn’t know what came over you, some sort of fever maybe. Your feet were even scolding against the ice cold floor of the Mantis.

You sat in the pilot seat, a small blanket wrapped around your shoulders and wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a white vest. You had one leg up on the chair and the other dangling off it, a jug of refilled blue milk in your hand as the other rest on the hyperspace lever. The cockpit door was shut, you needed some privacy in somewhere that wasn’t your stuffy and cramped room. The cockpit was your favourite part of the Mantis, plus, you got to see hyperspace up close and personal.

Your breathing was shallow, eyes hazy and unfocused as your hand rested on the hyperspace lever. You yawned multiple times, wishing you had a comfortable and warm place to sleep since your bed was so stiff and uneasy to get comfortable on. The co pilot seat was comfortable but you knew if you fell asleep on it, your back would snap.

You had yet to face Cere, it felt as though she was avoiding you ever since you got back from Kashyyyk and it made your stomach churn, something didn’t feel right and it made you nervous. Merrin was friendly when you got back and helped tend to your wounds after Greez flew the mantis away from Kashyyyk. It seemed strange that Cere was avoiding you, had you done something wrong? Maybe said something you shouldn’t have?

Your thoughts were diminished at the sound of the cockpit door sliding open to reveal Merrin in red lounge wear and her feet wrapped up in bandages since she didn’t have any socks and the ship floor was freezing.

“It’s late, you aren’t tired?” She asked, closing the door behind her and walking up to the co-pilot seat to sit across from you and hang out with you for a while. You shook your head and let out a hollow sigh, unable to gather your thoughts so your mind shifted somewhere else and you decided to talk to Merrin rather than sit there and sulk about how many things felt wrong in your life.

“I couldn’t sleep, had a nightmare” You readjusted the towels under your arms and scratched your throat, eyes focused on the light speed view in front of you and feeling the tension in your body flush away. Merrin nodded and crossed her legs on the pilot seat, arms crossed behind her head as she watched the view with you and sat in silence for a few minutes.

The two of you seemed to be on okay grounds, you’d only just met her and you didn’t have a solid opinion of her just yet, but she was kind. You could tell she had no bad intentions, she was a loyal person and her protection over the mantis crew showed. Yodidnt want to push her into saying anything, but you assumed she was in a lot of pain from the past due to the fall of the Nightsisters.

You’d heard about it from Shaak Ti the day after it happened, she told you about the events about General Grevious invading Dathomir and killing the Nightsisters. It was clear Merrin was the last, you felt sorry for her. She was all alone, last of her kind and possibly wanted by many people. Almost like you in a sense, run away Jedi with no home and a large price on her head because of her powers.

It was a shame really.

“You know, I’d never seen light speed before until... until Ca-... Cere found me” Merrin immediately corrected herself, heart pounding in her chest because of her slip up but thankfully you didn’t suspect much. You tilted your head to the side, curiosity getting the better of you as your mind raced with thoughts and questions.

“The Nightsisters never took you off world?” You asked.

“No, only the warriors ever left. The Nightbrothers didn’t leave either, I mean all except Darth Maul and his brother Savage Opress” Merrin shrugged, smiling to herself as she played with her necklace.

“You mean the two most infamous crime lords during the clone wars? Kriff- I met Savage once, he was... scary to say the least” You chuckled.

“You did?” Merrin turned in her seat to look at you, eyebrow raised slightly as she listened to you.

“Yeah, I was 13. I got lost on Zanbar once whilst on a mission with my Master and bumped right into Savage” You said, drifting into a flourish of memories from that certain moment when you bumped into the massive yellow and black Zabrak all those years ago, you remembered how terrified you were. He looked like he would rip you in half, thankfully you got away before he could even lay a finger on you.

“What happened?” Merrin asked with a gasp, you had her full attention.

“I ran away, thankfully his speed wasn’t his most impressive skill so I managed to sneak away” You let out a short giggle and made the Nightsister smile.

“Impressive that you outran a Nightbrother, not many people live to say that” She smirked at you, stretching her arms and letting out a brief yawn. Merrin raised her legs up and rest the heels of her feet on the edge of the pilots seat, looking back out to the light speed view which was coming to a close as you reached for the lever and inched it towards you. She looked deep in thought, as if you sparked a conversation within her head as she looked at the stars that came into vision and let out a soft sigh.

“You know, I never got to ask you, how was Kashyyyk? Did you see the Inquisutor there?” Merrin asked suddenly, making your breath hitch in your throat as you jolted in your seat, thankfully she didn’t notice as she continued staring at the stars.

“I-uh, no- actually, I-I didn’t” You spluttered, cursing at yourself silently as your lips sealed shut and you awaited Merrin’s reply.

“I don’t see why you’d lie about seeing an Inquisutor” The Nightsister said before yawning. Kriff.

You didn’t say anything in return as you looked away from her and down at the panels in front of you. You curled yourself up in the chair, the leather squeaking as it rubbed together and the chair creaked slightly.

“Which Inquisitor was it?” Merrin turned to look at you again, her face showing no threat or anger as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

You inhaled deeply through your nose and rubbed your eyes which were heavy in exhaustion.

“The Eleventh Brother” Your voice cracked unintentionally as you cleared your throat awkwardly, suddenly unconfortable at the mentioning of your boyfriends galactic title. Merrin’s eyes widened, her mouth opened to say something but nothing came out. You both sat in silence for a few seconds, listening to the sound of space as you two shifted in your seats.

“Cere told me not to tell you in case I jeopardise the mission, but the Eleventh Brother is the man who was once in your position” Merrin spoke up, her words seeping in as you looked at her with wide eyes and gasped silently. It took a lot longer than necessary for you to process her words, heart pounding with shock at her words as she smiled to herself.

“In my position?” You asked, your feet settling on the floor as you leaned forward and turned to look at her, the seat spinning around so you were fully facing her.

“A long time ago, a young and brave Jedi... but he was just like the rest of them” The Nightsister’s smile vanished and she looked over to you with glassy eyes, as if she was hurting at her own words and struggled to hide her emotions.

“Yes; a good man he was, but let’s not dwell on the past” Merrin sniffed, wiping her eyes and pushing aside her emotions to smile reassuringly at you and nod her head. You tried to smile back to her, you wanted to ask her so many more questions but you didn’t want to push her. By the looks of it she was in no state to get into details about what she just told you, she probably wasn’t ready either.

“Want a refill?” Merrin asked, standing up from the co-pilot seat and acting as if nothing happened. To avoid complications, you nodded and thanked her, passing your empty jug to her and watching as she opened up the cockpit door to walk over to the kitchen.

You turned the pilot seat around and looked back at the view of blackness dotted with sparking white stars, eyes shifting from each star and trying to connect the dots to see if you could make any shapes by doing so. You had to stay quiet about Cal, and by the looks of it the crew had a few things they didn’t want to say about him as well.

If Merrin told you the truth, if she really meant that Cal was once in your position, then this mission was about to get a whole lot more difficult.

You retired to your bedroom after another half hour of sitting with Merrin and chatting with her about whatever was on your kinds. Cere and Greez were still in their beds, fast asleep as the ship floated through the galaxy and drifted to wherever. You finished off the jug of blue milk you refilled about 3 times and set it on the table full of tools and gadgets. You took the blanket off your shoulders and practically collapsed on your bed, eyes looking up at the window view right next to your bed which covered the whole wall, glass was the only thing separating you from the stars.

Your bed was lower than the platform which the table was on, a small set of stairs were at the side which connected the two platforms together. If anything, the interior gave you a sense of privacy, the table blocked out anyone from seeing you from beneath the platform.

Your eyes gleamed as they watched the stars, no planets in sight to watch as you slowly fell asleep and waited for the darkness to consume you. You heard someone’s footsteps outside of your room, you guessed it was Merrin since she slept in the room next to yours. Cere and Greez might’ve woken up with all the noise you were making by speaking with Merrin and pouring drinks at an unpredictable time.

Curioudly, you shifted to your side and raised your arm up to lean on it, eyes still focused on the stars outside as you yawned and let out a hollow sigh. There was a strange vibe about tonight, you didn’t know whether it was because you’d seen Cal today, or maybe Cere hadn’t talked to you. Either way, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it.

You closed your eyes, letting your imagination tire you out as your body slowly relaxed into the mattress and the stars merely became a vision in your mind. Tossing and turning in your bed, you tried keeping your eyes shut as the sound of unfamiliar shifting welcomed itself into your hearing. You felt a strange pressure apply beside you on your bed and you just about had a heart attack when your eyes opened.

“C-Cal?!” You exclaimed in surprise, legs immediately curling up to your chest as you shuffled away from your unwelcome boyfriend who sat, just as surprised as you were.

“Keep it down! What are you doing here?!” He asked, standing up from your bed and causing you to tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“What am I doing here? You’re on the mantis!” You stood up from your bed, not bothering to wrap your half naked body with your bed covers as you stood in front of him with your arms crossed and a stern expression all over your face.

Cal raised an eyebrow, full of attitude as he scoffed and looked at his surroundings.

“No, I’m in my chambers on Nur, how’d you get here...” Cal’s eyes trailed down below your face and he was immediately caught off guard. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your quilt and covered your body with it as he blushed and cleared his throat.

“I have no idea, you’re in my room on the Mantis” You said, looking at Cal and realising he was wearing black lounge clothes which consisted of a long sleeved t-shirt and black joggers. His red hair was all messy and uncouth but you couldn’t deny that you found it attractive. Cal looked around his surroundings once more and hit his head with his hands, trying to make himself see what you were seeing. By the looks of it, neither of you knew what was going on and it was just getting all over the place.

“Alright, let’s just calm down” You touched his shoulder and felt your heart quicken at the fact you could touch him, proving he wasn’t just a fragment of your imagination. Cal flinched at your touch and immediately made you put your hand back down to your side, he was scared. Cal was scared someone might see you from his perspective, you were in his chambers standing beside his bed with not much on and also, you were the Jedi they were looking for, it would look mortifying.

Cal, after seconds of panicking, let out a vexed sigh, his gold eyes linking to yours as his body relaxed and the tension flushed out of his system. Cal took a step forward and hugged you unexpectedly, arms around your waist and chin resting on your head. You were quick to hug him back and wrapped your arms around his neck, letting out a sigh and closing your eyes as he gave your body a soft squeeze.

“Aside from the mystery as to how we can see each other, I’ll take whatever time I can get with you, even if this is just some sick illusion” Cal pulled a hand up and began stroking your hair, his voice held hints of wariness as if this was all some vision his mind created, as if you weren’t really in his arms. But you could feel it in the flesh, he really was here. Your Cal was here and hugging the daylights out of you.

The quilt was long forgotten and pooled around your feet, body cold but you didn’t care as the cool air made contact with your skin.

Cal’s warm body done you justice as he held you firmly against it, his chest pressing tightly against yours and making it slightly difficult to breathe as your breasts squished uncomfortably.

“If this was some sick illusion I couldn’t be able to do this” You leaned back and kissed him softly, closing your eyes and enjoying the feeling of his lips on yours. Cal hummed, grinning into the kiss as his hands travelled around your hips and back delicately, as if he was holding a piece of porcelain.

“Fair point” He chuckled when the two of you pulled apart for some air, his pale face flushed and gold eyes narrowed and focused on you. Your hand raised up to playfully ruffle his hair, earning a short protest from Cal as he waved your hand away and laughed.

“It’s cute like that” You commented casually, sitting down on your bed and picking up the abandoned quilt which was still in a heap on the floor. Cal joined you on your bed and for some reason he kept an appropriate distance away from you. You raised your legs and crossed them as you put the quilt over your cold half naked body, away from Cal’s lingering gaze and the urge to touch you he was currently fighting off. The Inquisutor looked up at you with a somewhat strained expression; you could tell something was on his mind. For an Inquisutor, for a man made for such danger, he was too easy to read. Maybe it was because you could sense it through the force or maybe he was just a readable person.

“Something on your mind?” You asked, hands cupped in your lap as you watched Cal clench his jaw and look away from you hurriedly.

“It’s nothing” He muttered, eyes drifting to your hands which were fidgeting pretty badly. He noticed the way your body was tense since he was here, in your bed. It was obvious there was a noticeable tension between the two of you, you hadn’t been alone with each other for a long time, in somewhere so private. The last time that was the case was in his Tie Fighter when the two of you first got together.

It was a while since then and the two of you had been relying on holograms. But now, you were alone and had enough time together, no interruptions and no people to pull you apart.

You watched as Cal breathed in deeply and scratched the back of his neck, he was thinking about something and something he didn’t want to tell you.

“I’m sorry I just- I’m trying to understand how you’re here but I can’t focus when you’re-“ Cal cut himself off and he was mortified he got so far in speaking, now he left you confused and unable to comprehend the situation.

“When you’re right in front of me, in my bed” Cal finished, sighing once he got the words out of his system and not daring to look at you as you processed what he said. You blushed, realising what he meant and feeling a tingling sensation spread in your chest as he finally looked back up and met your gaze.

“I’ve made this awkward, I’m sorry” He pursed his lips and ran his fingers through his hair, clenching his jaw once again and bobbing his knee as he sat at the edge of your bed.

You held the covers close to your lap but a part of you told you to push them away. Your instinctive urges started flooding your mind and soon you started feeling hot, your body flush as you looked at Cal with hazy eyes.

“You haven’t made anything awkward... if anything I feel the same” You mumbled, bringing your knees up to your chest which were still covered by your quilt. Cal looked up at you curiously and he seemed to relax a bit, his muscles grew less tense and he seemed to calm down by your words.

“You do?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he narrowed his eyes and focused on the way your face flushed.

“Y-yes, I mean, this is the most alone we’ve been” You chuckled, the tension in your stomach tightening as he shuffled a little bit closer and rest his hand on top of yours. Your breath hitched in your throat and you felt your ears prick with warmth.

“I like this, having no one to disturb us” Cal inched a mischievous smile and looked at you with a darkening gaze. You nodded in agreement, your hand trembling beneath his as he picked it up and laced his fingers with yours. You didn’t reply to Cal and instead shuffled along your bed till your legs touched. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

Cal wasted no time as he cupped the back of your neck and brought you in for a more firm, passionate kiss. A yelp murmured at the back of your throat as Cal grabbed your thighs and straddled you onto his lap in the blink of an eye. Your lips didn’t tear apart as his hands were flat on your backside and held you close to him, hips pressed against yours as your tongues continued to dance. Cal moved one of his hands and stroked your bare thigh softly, earning a small whimper from you as goosebumps trailed along your skin and around your body. This appeased Cal and encouraged him to trail further up your thigh until his fingers grazed the material of your shorts, stroking it softly before giving the hem a gentle tug whilst his lips travelled down to your neck and gave it a soft bite. You tugged on his red hair, fingers digging themselves and balling into fists as he sucked and nibbled at the skin on your neck until he was certain there was a bloody mark on it. Your breathing grew raggedy and you were unconsciously grinding down on Cal slowly but surely. You sighed in pleasure as his mouth travelled lower, level with your collarbones.

“Cal-“ You whimpered, voice hoarse and breathless as Cal’s sharp K9’s dragged across your skin and nipped teasingly at it, dragging as many moans as he could as you squirmed in his arms.

“You’re so pretty like this” Cal growled, leaning back and looking up at you with dark, lustful eyes. You trembled in his lap, small noises leaving your mouth simply because of the way he was looking at you.

You were in for it now, Cal’s eyes spoke a thousand words and every one was far from innocent. He looked like he was about to tear you apart and leave you in pieces, use you and destroy you. His gaze was so heavy it made a pool of warmth form in the pit of your stomach. The feeling was delicious, his hands guided your hips down to grind against his once again and you felt like the wind had been kicked out of you. You slammed your lips on his and forced him down on your bed, your hands grabbing his wrists and pinning them at either side of his head. Cal giggled boyishly as he stared up at you with excitement, tongue running over his pearly whites as he watched you fight off a flush and gain your composure.

“Pretty baby” Cal muttered under his breath, in a flash you were on your back and the tables had been turned. Cal’s grip on your wrists made you wince bit you didn’t complain, distracted as his knee slid between your legs and up against the place most sensitive on your body. One of Cal’s hands laced with yours whereas the other held your hip, gripping your skin and leaving slightly red scratch marks as a result. You used your free hand to grip Cal’s shoulder as his knee pressed right up against your shorts and made you look away from his intense stare.

“I could have you like this all day” Cal groaned as he felt your heat against his knee, holding back so much as he looked at your face and how bright it was with the blush smothering it. You looked cute, he hadn’t seen you this shy ever so it was a whole new experience for him. You only whimpered in response, loving the way he looked above you and how feral he was with that dark, sinister sparkle in his gold eyes. You raised a hand up and cupped his cheek, stroking it softly with your thumb and feeling hints of stubble scratch against your skin.

You took a peek down as Cal’s knee which was still pressed tight against your core and blushed when you saw a tent in his joggers. The Inquisutor only smirked and pushed a strand of hair out of your face, his fingers trailing down your cheek to your neck to your chest. He only looked, asking permission with his eyes if he could go any further.

Just as you were about to nod, there was a loud knock at your door and it immediately made the two of you jump. Cal got off you quickly and you ran up to get the door, looking back to see that Cal was now nowhere in sight.

Frozen, you stood in your spot for a few seconds longer, trying to comprehend what just happened until another knock rattled you out of your thoughts.

You opened the door to reveal Cere with a worried expression, eyes finding yours instantly.

“Are you alright? I heard noises coming from your room” The older woman asked with concern, her eyes holding worry and good intention as she reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. Suppressing a blush, you nodded your head and cleared your throat.

“I-uh... yeah, bad dream” You rubbed the back of your neck as your other hand held onto the doorframe, trying your best not to look suspicious as your hand immediately hid the hickey on your neck from Cere.

“Ah, well that makes sense. Get some more rest, we’ll be landing on Bogano soon” Cere waved you off and turned around, walking to her room and leaving you alone in the hallway of the Mantis. You sighed out in relief when Cere was out of sight and sealed away in her room, rubbing your forehead and pinching the bridge of your nose as your eyes hurt with the sudden light in the hallway.

“It was just an illusion, calm down (Y/N)” You reassured yourself, closing the door and making your way to the construction table where your lightsaber lay untouched. You sat down, back of your thighs colliding with the cold material of the leather stool in front of the table. Clearing your throat once again, you picked up your saber and checked for any malfunctions. The only thing wrong with the saber was that the other side had been completely destroyed, you weren’t sure how long it would take to fix but you might as well start now.

You had a long journey ahead of you after all.

#star wars #x reader #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis #jedi fallen order #fallen order

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kareofbears · 4 years

Text

asymmetric styling

“I like the way you dress.”

Akechi looks up from his crossword (one word left, ten letters horizontally) to see Ann waiting for a response.

“What?”

—

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

“I like the way you dress.”

Akechi looks up from his crossword (one word left, ten letters horizontally) to see Ann waiting for a response.

“What?”

“Your outfits are nice,” she clarifies, nodding at his winter attire. “I like how you present yourself, and the colors you pick. You have a knack for clothes, I think.”

“Okay,” he says for lack of a better response. “Why are you telling me that?”

“Because I want to?”

He sets down his crossword. “Why would you want to?”

Ann stares at him. “Because you have good outfits?”

“Yes, we’ve been over that, but you hate me, so why would you want to compliment me?” If this useless back and forth goes on any further, Akechi’s going to pop a vein.

“I can still hate people and compliment them,” she replies, rolling her eyes. “That’s called high school.”

“This,” he gesticulates at the empty interior of Leblanc. “Is us waiting for the rest of the halfwits and Sumire to show up, and that I’ve apparently been granted the unfortunate lottery ticket of spending alone time with you.”

“I think it’s called a blessing, actually,” she grins. “I’m something of a hoot. A rockstar. A Hollywood badass.”

“A nuisance?” he offers, smiling thinly in return.

“Are you always like this or is it because I’m just too pretty?”

“I feel like this is a trick question from how stupid it sounds, but it’s most definitely not the second one, I promise.” Akechi shrugs off his jacket, and moves to grab his crossword puzzle again. “How about you go back to your phone, and we can go back to the delightful silence we had before?”

Her hand slams down on the newspaper. “I knew it.”

Raising an eyebrow, “Are you about to tell me the final answer to this crossword? Because not only do I legally have to say that you seem like you’ve never attempted a mental aptitude test in your life, but because I’m generally against spoilers.”

“You do like fashion!”

Akechi represses a sigh. “What are you on about?”

“Your jacket,” she points at his brown peacoat. “That was on page thirteen of Vague, the July edition predicting sales on which winter apparel for men will take off later that year. That peacoat was rated number one in Japan and ended up being something like a self-fulfilling prophecy by using their earlier predictions and turned it into sales.”

He scoffs. “Okay, sure. Let’s say that I’m an avid follower of fashion.” Akechi leans forward, and his head tilts in mock-concern. “But doesn’t that mean that you rebuked your own statement? Since this was…what was that? ‘Rated number one in Japan?’ Won’t that mean that everyone would be trying to sell this coat? And it could be a complete coincidence that I have this jacket because it can be replicated in every fast-fashion store in downtown Shibuya?” He gasps. “Oh no, looks like you’re wrong about the very field you think you know the most in! How humiliating.”

Ann leans forward, her smile is wide but her eyes are sharp. “Silly me. I guess I forgot to mention a fact about this specific brand, color, and fabric on the very first day of release: it’s near impossible for manufacturers to try and replicate it.” She tilts her head to mimic him. “Humiliation’s a bitch, isn’t it?”

“Maybe, if I had ever experienced it the way you just did,” he replies pleasantly. “‘Near impossible,’ means statistically difficult, but not quite impossible.”

“Very true, but since that brand is on such high demand, they actually have a foolproof method to fight against fake brands. Perhaps they thought it was a good idea to have a small symbol that can be easily overlooked. Let’s say—” she reaches forward and grabs his coat, grin stretching even further when she points at one of the big brown buttons. “Something like a rabbit engraved on top of the first button?”

Akechi raps his fingers on the table. “Perhaps, but if you had done your research, this brand has two foolproof methods: the rabbit, as you annoyingly mentioned, and the code that you can enter in the website to prove its legitimacy. However, as you may have noticed—” he pinches the label near the collar of the peacoat. “No code. Sorry.”

Ann groans, throwing her hands over her face. “Dammit!”

Letting himself cheer internally, he makes sure the condescension is layered thick in his voice. “Not your fault. You tried your best.”

“Yeah…I’m sure you did.” Blue eyes peek from between her fingers. “Too bad you forgot the cute little fact that four years ago they actually put the code inside of the label.”

His shoulders tense.

“Do you mind flipping it for me, Akechi? Actually, no need,” propping her chin on her palm, he probably could have felt her smugness from three blocks away. “Even if there isn’t, I know that you live and breathe fashion as much as I do.” Her expression turns cheery. “Well, almost as much.”

“Congratulations, you beat me in a game you know you’re more knowledgeable in than I am,” he deadpans. “An outstanding feat. Can you let me finish my puzzle now?”

“I should’ve guessed you were a sore loser,” Ann says, ignoring him. “I still remember when Akira beat you in a round of Tycoon. Your face was stuck like—” she scrunches her eyebrows together and morphs her features into a menacing scowl. “For like four hours afterwards, it was great.”

“He only won because his cards were better than mine.”

“Actually, if I’m not mistaken, the cards you drew were basically as good as his, and you still lost.”

“Oh, I see, you’re trying to be funny. Hilarious. I can hardly breathe, please call an ambulance.” He rubs his temples. “I yield. I’m going to ask you this one last time: What do you want? And no games, I beg of you, you’re going to make my head burst.”

“Killjoy,” she sighs, before straightening up. “You know that we hate you.”

“I think I’m aware, yes.”

“And you hate us—”

“But Sumire doesn’t count,” they both say in unison.

“But you not only hate us, but I’m pretty sure you hate, like, everyone else,” she continues, gesticulating with her hands. “Japan, Asia, the world. I’m sure you have some random vendetta with some guy across the Pacific Ocean. He probably breathed too hard and made one of your hairs move two weeks later.”

“Is there a point to your prattling, or…?”

“I’m getting there,” she gives him an accusing look. “So with all that in mind, why does a guy like you, who would get in a boxing ring with just about anyone on the planet, know so much about something like the fashion industry?” Smoothing down his jacket, “Why do you put so much effort in how you dress when it’s so clear that you don’t care what other people think about you?”

“Is that what you think?”

Ann pauses at his tone. “Am I wrong?”

“No. Not necessarily.” She continues to stare at him, unblinking. “Do you ever learn to back down?”

That makes her grin. “Not in this line of work. If you think I’m bad, you should go a few rounds with Ryuji.”

“Sounds like a nightmare.” If information is the price for temporary silence, then he’s willing to pay the price. Even at the cost of prolonging his crossword. “I didn’t care what other people think about me, but I wanted them to see me in a certain light.”

She squints. “What?”

He finds himself fiddling with the edge of his newspaper. “The very first thing people notice about a person is how they present themself. In their hair, their expression, their posture. But above all that, is the clothes that they wear. The shoes on their feet, the jacket on their back, how expensive their watch is. All that information is melded together in an instant. That split second—” he snaps his fingers. “Is all they need to form an opinion of you. To define you, before you can even open your mouth.”

“I don’t care about fashion,” Akechi admits. “But I cared about what it could do for me. I got to have a say in who I am.” His eyes flicker to her. “Done?”

The look Ann gives him is unreadable. “You’re a liar.”

Akechi leans away, taken aback. “Well, yes, of course. I thought we all knew that by now.”

“You do care about what other people think about you, Akechi,” she accuses, realization dawning on her. “‘Want to see you in a certain light,’ my ass—all you’re doing is shuffling around what your words mean to justify your actions through your thick, annoyingly soft-haired skull. You’re right, you don’t care about fashion, because at the end of the day…” Ann shrugs helplessly, and her words are spoken with something like awe and dismay. “All you care about is how people see you.”

A beat passes. “Wanted.”

“Huh?”

“It’s ‘wanted,’” he corrects, unfazed. “Past tense.”

Ann gives him a hard look. “Correcting me on my grammar, now? Real mature.”

“Only because it changes the meaning of everything you just said.” Akechi reaches over to his jacket’s collar, and flips the label to reveal the code. “Thanks to your reminder, you helped me recall something.” He taps at the seemingly randomized set of numbers in front of him. “This lets you know when you bought the coat. What number is this?”

Reluctantly, she peers at what he’s pointing at. “‘10?’” she says quietly. “October?”

“I bought this about a week before my well-deserved beatdown in Shido’s ship,” he clarifies. “So about four months ago from today.”

“Okay? And?” she urges, still confused.

“And this coat is the newest thing I own.”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning…” how strange it was, saying this out loud to another person. “That something between Shido’s ship and now, I stopped caring. About up-to-date fashion, about appearances, and especially stopped giving a damn about other people’s perception of me.”

Ann is silent for a moment. “Was it because of what happened in Shido’s ship?” she asks. There’s no trace of superiority or teasing in her tone—only curiosity.

“Could be,” he answers honestly. “Perhaps I realized that there was no need to uphold a specific personality anymore. Perhaps I was just tired after playing that song and dance for as long as I can remember. Bottom line is: I don’t give a single shit about fashion anymore.”

Her lips quirk up, “Even though you got into a fashion pissing contest not five minutes ago?”

“That’s different. I love to win.”

“I can tell,” she breathes out a laugh. After a moment, a thoughtful expression clouds her features. “Can I say something?”

“If I actually had a say in that, we wouldn’t have had this conversation at all.”

“How would you, Akechi Goro, feel about trying to get back into fashion?”

For once, Akechi looks surprised. “Did you not listen to anything I just said?”

Her hands drum on the table eagerly. “Just hear me out. You don’t care about fashion because it sort of, kind of, maybe represents how much you tried to be someone you’re not, which hey, I get that, super relatable, and it’s great that you don’t care about that anymore. But—and give me a chance here—” Ann grins. “Wouldn’t it be more interesting if you wore clothes that you wanted to wear?”

She shifts in her seat, excitement radiating off of her. It’s difficult to watch. “I’ve been studying fashion ever since I could understand the color wheel, and if there’s one thing I learned is that fashion is power. If you make it your own, then,” Ann shrugs. “All the more power to you, right?”

Akechi is struck with silence, and is saved from having to reply when the door to Leblanc swings wide open. An entourage of loud teenagers steamroll into the cafe, all brushing off various amounts of snow from themselves.

“Took you long enough!” Ann yells over her shoulder.

“Sorry for the delay,” Haru answers. She raises her hand to reveal a full plastic bag. “But we got snacks!”

“Takoyaki?”

“Pork kebab.”

She makes a face. “Stop indulging Ryuji!”

“Mm, literally impossible,” Akira replies, combing the snow out of Futaba’s hair.

Akechi sinks back into the booth, waiting for Sumire to walk in and prance by his side, when Ann turns back to him. “By the way, I think it’s ‘asymmetrical.’”

“What is?”

“The last word on your puzzle,” she nods down at his crossword. “‘With two halves, sides, or parts that are not exactly the same in shape or size.’ I read it while I was grabbing your coat.”

“Oh.” He reluctantly scribbles down the answer, lacking the usual enjoyment he gets from finishing a crossword. “…Thanks.”

Somehow, she’s still not done talking. “I heard Akira went shopping with Sumire last week. She came back with the cutest dress I’ve ever seen in my life.”

“I’m aware.” He’s pretty sure he’s compiled enough for a slideshow of it by now, given how many pictures of it Sumire’s sent to him.

She hesitates, before seeming to steel herself. “Wanna go shopping tomorrow?”

Akechi blinks. Twice. He’s about to open his mouth to say no as rudely as possible, when he lets his eyes wander the cramped coffee shop. All of them are in clothes that scream their personality, even if it clashes or has horrible style (he can barely look at Ryuji’s winter outfit without cringing).

But, as terrible as some of them may look, all of them seem content to be in the clothes that they chose.

“Maybe.”

Ann’s smile is bright and genuine. “I can work with a maybe.”

#platonic anngoro #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #ann takamaki #goro akechi #fic #mine #fic tag #p5 #this is such a niche fic #i feel like the more fic i write for persona 5 #the more niche it is #i think i wrote this fic out of spite but thats usually how i write my fics anyway hehe #asymmetric styling #ann goro

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thesoobfiles · 4 years

Text

your highness – a. skywalker

Jealous! Anakin x Queen! Reader

Request: anon, could we get a jealous! anakin imagine?

Words: 4k

Summary: Reader is the queen of the alien planet, Roe’ Leor, a planet very rich in natural resources and starship fuel. It was previously a neutral system; however, the Republic has finally roped them in. In celebration and in honor of their alliance, the Queen has thrown a formal party to recognize this new friendship. Invitations extend to the royal family, the royal guard, royal officials as well as the staff, Republic Senators and the Jedi of course. After Ani’s met the Queen and after the dancing begins, Anakin gets jealous when he sees her dancing with another man…

A/N: I’ve been experiencing the BIGGEST writers block and lack of time to write and I’m SO sorry this took so long. I also had trouble trying to think of something that isn’t overplayed like jedi! reader and senator! reader... I’ve had this in my drafts for a week now and I apologize I haven’t published it until now... I hope it was worth the wait though :) A couple things I want to point out: 1) Roe’ Leor is a production of my imagination; it’s not a real planet in the Star War universe, 2) I imagine the handmaiden with a soft British accent, 3) you don’t really get to fill in a lot because you’re an alien and your skin color, eye color, etc. is already pre-determined, 4) the Roe’ Leor culture is like a mix of Indian and Haiwaiian (certain thinks like names and outfits) and 5) this Anakin is kind of like a mix between rots! Anakin and tcw! Anakin. I’m sorry I talk so much and enjoy! ~

I look out of my large bedroom window as my handmaiden, Lei, prepares me for the event tonight. I just love the blues and purples that color the sky when the suns set…

“I do as well, my lady.” Lei speaks up. I jump slightly at the sudden sound.

“I hadn’t realized I said that aloud…” I said, distractedly.

“Well, I’m glad you did, your majesty. The sound of your voice is always lovely to hear, no matter the scarcity.” She replies with a small smile on her face. I smile back at her. What a wonderful girl…

The thing about being Queen is I’m not allowed to speak, only under specific circumstances like negotiations. Hearing my voice should be ‘a privilege’. I think it’s nonsense; but until my request goes through Leadership, I must adhere to the rules…

Lei adjusts the pallu part of the sari and places the traditional red flower behind my ear. She spins me around to look in the full-length mirror and I smile. She always does such excellent work making sure I look presentable. I look at Lei in the mirror and whisper a ‘thank you’ in our native tongue.

“You are quite welcome, your highness.” She smiles and bows before leaving my presence.

I look in the mirror once more and really take in my appearance. The amber color of the sari and petticoat really compliments my green eyes and the vermillion of the choli, fine stitching and border look exquisite against my light orange skin. To top the whole look off, my hair is loose, free to fall in waves upon my shoulders. Luckily, it doesn’t take too much away from the golden jewelry that adorns my body; the delicate necklace hanging upon my neck and the simple, yet elegant bangles that slip towards my wrist. If there’s one thing I love about being Queen, it’s the fun I have while dressing up.

When I’m done admiring Lei’s handiwork, I straighten my back and head for the main room of the palace; where the event is being held.

Outside my door, as I expected, are two of my most trusted bodyguards – who double as my governesses – to escort me; however, what I didn’t expect was for a women from Leadership waiting for me as well. I bow politely and she bows back.

“Your grace, I’ve come before you to inform you that your request has been received and approved.” She says with a relaxed expression and a small smile.

“That’s wonderful. Thank you for bringing me this information.” I reply, beyond jovial as a smile breaks out on my face.

“It was my pleasure, your majesty. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” She bows and leaves me with my escorts.

Overjoyed that I can now speak as I please, I hug both of them.

“Alani, Kaila, I never thought I’d see the day.” I express my extreme happiness with the information I just received.

“We’re happy for you, your highness.” Alani replies with a smile on her face.

“We’re glad your request went through successfully.” Kaila says as she pats my back.

I give them another squeeze before I straighten up, dust off my sari and clear my throat.

“C’mon ladies, we have a party to attend.”

As I walk forwards, Alani and Kaila follow suit. We make a beeline for the balcony area of the staircase and wait just behind the doorway for my cue to enter. I can already hear the noise of my guests and the party started but a few minutes ago.

- 15 minutes earlier –

“Halt.” A guard in front of the palace stops us.

“Names.” She demands and she looks at her scroll.

“Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight.” I say in a nonchalant tone and flash her my invitation. She looks at me, at the invitation and at her scroll. She nods and looks at Obi-Wan.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master.” He says politely as he too shows his invitation. The guard nods and I proceed to make my way inside only to walk into her arm. I look up at her.

“Is there a problem?” I ask, eyebrow raised in hopes of getting some answers.

“You must change your attire before entering the Queen’s palace.” She responds. Before I could open my mouth to ask my question, a women that appears to be a handmaiden approaches us with clothing in hand. Then, it dawned on me.

“This would explain why we were measured last week.” Obi-Wan voiced my thoughts as he takes his suit and I take mine.

“You may change your clothing in the rooms to the left.” She states with an authoritative tone and resumes her duties as the guard; checking the next guests invitation.

Obi-Wan and I head over to a small shack.

“Doesn’t look like much.” I comment on the rough exterior of the ‘building’.

Obi-Wan chuckles, “Wait until you see inside.” I furrow my eyebrows in confusion and push the door open. My eyes widened at the sight before me. The outside is an injustice to the interior. It was magnificently structured and much larger on the inside. The small palace was completely empty except for four decently-sized ‘rooms’ in the middle of the structure.

“Never judge a book by its cover, Anakin; Leori technology isn’t anything to bat your eyes at.” He says condescendingly as he goes to change.

“Yes, master.” I reply as I walk over to the changing ‘room’. Can it even be called a room? All of the ‘walls’ are made of curtains.

I walk inside and shed the many layers of my Jedi robes along with my boots, belt and lightsaber.

“What do you know about this party, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks from his changing ‘room’.

“The Queen of Roe’ Leor has thrown this party has an act of goodwill to celebrate the alliance between the Republic and Roe’ Leor.” I say, repeating the words of the Jedi Council from earlier that week.

I gingerly pull on the blue button-up and thin black jacket that accompanies it.

“Have you ever met her?” He asks.

“The Queen? No. I hear it’s a privilege to even hear her speak much less be in her presence.” I recall from one of the many briefings on Leori culture.

I slide on the black slacks as well as the black pointed shoes and clip my lightsaber to one of the belt loop of the pants. I walk out the same time Obi-Wan does.

I look at him and raise my eyebrow to accompany my smirk, “Don’t you clean up nicely, master.” I say in a joking manner. Obi-Wan is dressed in similar clothing, just with different colors. His button up is a light brown while his suit jacket, pants and shoes are all a darker shade of the same color; like his Jedi robes.

He rolls his eyes at my comment then makes his way out of the shack and over to the entrance. I walk behind him and we walk back over to the guard.

She looks us up and down, “Proceed.” She says after she recognizes us and deems our outfits acceptable.

We walk inside and look around. Music similar to what was playing in Hondo’s bar plays softly in the background as the people make conversation. I notice that some members of the Jedi Council, such as Mace Windu and Plo Koon have already arrived and have switched their usual attire for suits. The majority of the people in attendance are Leori; however I do spot the occasional Senator and Jedi.

“Did you know that Roe’ Leor is predominantly female and that’s why they have a Queen instead of a King?” Obi-Wan pipes up from beside me as he examines the room and takes a bite of food from his plate.

“I did not…” I trail off and instead of looking at their species, I look at their gender and notice he’s right. The majority of the Leori are women. The men only seem to be caterers and the occasional official.

A horn of some sort is blown from the balcony of the staircase. The attendees quiet down and move their attention to a small girl, no more than the age of a youngling.

“Please welcome her royal highness, Queen (L/N).” She says in a high-pitched voice as ‘Queen (L/N)’ emerges from the doorway on the left. She looks…magnificent. She’s younger than I expected her to be.

The yellow and red of her sari compliments her skin well. She strolls over to the balcony and stands between her two bodyguards elegantly. Applause erupts from the crowd. Both guards hold a hand out and the applause ceases.

“Good evening, people of Roe’ Leor and representatives of the Republic. As you all know, I’ve thrown this party to celebrate our newfound friendship with the Republic. I hope you enjoy your evening as well as make friends with our new partners.” She finishes and descends down the stairs. Thunderous applause erupts once more from the people in attendance.

“I thought the Queen wasn’t allowed to speak?” I ask Obi-Wan with confusion, never taking my eyes off of her.

“Must have been a recent change in their rules…” Obi-Wan mused, stroking his beard.

“Oh.” I respond simply as I take notice that the bodyguard’s leave Queen (L/N)’s side as she greets some politicians. She talks with them for a short amount of time before she scans the room and her eyes on land on me.

I bow as I finish my conversation with Senator Poli and Representative Jeeloy. I’ve made it my goal to introduce myself to every Republic attendee as to become familiar with one another and explain the new rule put into place by Leadership. I look around the large space and my eyes land on a rather handsome young man who already appears to be staring in my direction. I suppose I’ve found my next conversation.

I walk over to him and his eyes never leave me. A regular man would have already looked away in fear or insecurity; an interesting specimen indeed…

“Good evening gentlemen.” I say as I bow before the young man and his slightly older companion.

Now that I’m within a closer proximity, the young man is quite attractive for a Jedi. He has dirty blonde hair that falls in waves at his shoulders. His eyes are a blue so magnificent, I’ve only ever seen it in the majestic waves of our ocean. His skin is a flawless tan color and his lips look as plush as a pillow.

“My name is Anakin Skywalker, but you can call me Anakin, your highness.” The young man, Anakin, says as he bows. He grabs my hand and places a chaste kiss upon it. I can already feel my heart racing at his actions. He releases my hand, but he never takes his striking blue eyes off of me.

“Your majesty, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The older man, Obi-Wan, also bows.

“May I say, both of your names are quite unique?” I comment on the names they’ve given me.

“Thank you, my lady. May I ask yours?” Anakin questions me.

“(Y/N) (L/N)…”

“(Y/N)…” He whispers under his breath.

“…but no one every addresses me as such as it is customary to address me as ‘Queen (L/N)’ or other terms of respect including ‘your grace’, ‘your highness’, ‘your majesty’, ‘my lady’ and so forth...” I finish, matter-of-factly.

“Of course, my lady.” Anakin says as the mischievousness of a thousand younglings cross his eyes.

“How are you enjoying the party so far, Mr. Kenobi?” I ask, shifting my attention to his friend as the look he’s giving me makes my heart beat a little too fast for my taste.

“Please, Obi-Wan, your majesty. We are partners, not strangers.” He corrects me.

I nod in return, “Of course, Obi-Wan.” He continues.

“I must say, you’ve thrown a lovely party.” He comments as he scans the crowd.

“Thank you; do you like the food?” I ask, looking at both Anakin and Obi-Wan this time, “I heard many of these foods are popular on Coruscant, the Republic capital...”

“The food is excellent, your grace. Nothing to worry about.” He says reassuringly with a small smile.

“Wonderful.” I reply, returning his smile. “Before I forget, if you’ve been briefed on our culture, you’ll know I’m not normally permitted to speak; however, a change in the rules have been made by both Leadership and myself.” I say, clearing up any confusion if there was any.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me…” I begin.

“Obi-Wan,” I say while nodding in his direction, “Anakin.” I look in his direction.

“I must acquaint myself with the other patrons.” I bow.

“Of course, your highness.” Obi-Wan replies.

“Don’t let us distract you from your royal duties.” Anakin comments with a smile. I smile back and start walking to find the next Jedi or Senator.

- 30 minutes later –

After half an hour of walking and talking, I think I need a break. I pull a chair from one of the many tables in the hall and take a seat. I take a deep breath and exhale.

I’ve already spoken with all of the members of the Jedi Council, 8 Jedi Knights and their padawans and 300 congressmen and women and that’s not even half.

The dancing will begin shortly, so I hope I get to rest my feet for just a few minutes…

Not too long into my relaxing, I hear two chairs being pulled out. I take a deep breath, straighten my posture and put on a smile. I look up to see Kaila and Alani slumped in their chairs. I break out into a real smile and relax my shoulders.

“Hello ladies, you guys look as exhausted as I am and it hasn’t even been an hour.” I joke.

Kaila laughs exhaustedly, “Do you know how many touchy Senators we’ve had to shoo away from the poor female attendees? That Orn Free Taa? Too touchy for my liking…” I laugh.

“The men of the Republic need etiquette.” Alani agrees with closed eyes.

“Perhaps not all of them…” I say quietly. At my addition, both Kaila and Alani open their eyes and straighten up excitedly, forgetting their exhaustion.

“Oh?” Kaila asks with a smirk. I now realize my addition was a mistake; not only are Alani and Kaila my caretakers, but they are also my best friends and unfortunately love gossip.

“Do tell of the well-mannered men you’ve encountered this evening.” Alani urges with her elbows on the table and her hands underneath her chin.

“Well…” I start, going through my evening so far, “Senator Organa and Senator Farr were very polite, unlike the Senators you’ve had to deal with.” I counter with triumph.

“I’ve also met multiple Jedi who were nothing but well-mannered and polite.”

“Like who?” Kaila pushed.

“Like-like Master Mace Windu.” I reply, “Master Yoda and Master Obi-Wan Kenobi…”

“…and Anakin Skywalker.” I finish off quiet, voice uneven. Just saying his name makes my voice waver. I’ve never met a man who’s had this kind of effect on me before…

“Anakin Skywalker…” Alani repeats, “If I remember correctly he came last week with Master Kenobi for his fitting…”

“A rather handsome young man…” Kaila repeats my words from earlier.

Suddenly, I hear the ringing of a single bell signifying the beginning of the first dance. I quickly stand up, “Excuse me!” I say quickly and loudly as I rush to the balcony. I’m not even out of earshot when I hear them giggling.

I take deep breaths to steady my heartrate while I climb the stairs. I reach the top and clear my throat and the audience quiets down.

“The ringing of the first bell indicates the first of two dances. For the first dance, Leori will dance with Leori and this is the same for the people of the Republic. This illustrates our situations before our alliance. For the second dance, it will be mixed. It is mandatory for a Leori to dance with someone of the Republic and vice-versa. This illustrates our situation after our alliance. You have 5 minutes to choose your partner if you wish to dance as the first dance is not mandatory.” I finish and descend the steps for the second time this evening.

I stop at the foot of the stairs and weigh my options. I could a) return to my table and get pestered about Anakin or b) women up and find a partner.

Before I decide what to do, a familiar voice cuts into my thoughts.

“It’s been a while, sis.” A male voice announces. I look to my right and see my older brother, (B/N), with his arms open.

A huge smile replaces my thoughtful look and I rush into his arms, “Brother! What are you doing here?” I ask excitedly and squeeze him.

He wheezes, “I could tell you if I could breathe.” He manages; I immediately release him, “Sometimes you don’t even recognize your own strength, (N/N).” He says using my childhood nickname as he rubs his sides.

“You forget, I married a Senator of the Republic after I refused the throne?” (B/N) reminds me; even though our planet is predominantly female, he is older and would have been next in line.

“Ah, yes. I was so busy with the preparation of the party. It slipped my mind…” I admit, “How have you been? Is the money I sent enough? Do you need more? If you do, I can-“

“(Y/N), calm down. I’m fine and the money you sent is enough; I don’t need anymore, trust me.” He reassures me, “We can catch up later; for now, may I have this dance…” He asks, extending his hand towards me. I raise my eyebrow at him.

“…your highness?” He adds. I smile, glad he hasn’t forgotten the ways of our people.

The horn sounds as the classical music played by the orchestra in the sound room begins to play over the speakers. The first dance has begun.

The music has started to play signifying the beginning of the first dance. I’ve decided to sit this one out as the only other person I really know, Padmé, already has a partner. I sit at a table and sip my flute of one of the lighter alcoholic beverages being severed; as a Jedi, I should always be on my toes.

I scan the crowd when my eyes land on the Queen, who appears to be dancing with a man at least half a foot taller then her. The man she’s dancing with is attractive, to say the least. He has elegant features and whatever he’s saying to her makes her laugh; a laugh most likely so scarce only a select group of people ever get to hear it.

What is he saying that’s so funny? I thought when I heard the shattering of my glass. I guess my jealously paired with my prosthesis isn’t necessarily a good mix. Luckily, my beverage only spilled into the plate below with few drops of it on the tablecloth. I disregard my drink and return my attention to the Queen. Her partner spins her and she seems to be having a great time. It’s hard to be jealous when she smiles like that…

My thoughts are cut off when the music stops. The two separate and they bow before the Queen ascends the stairs. She’s most likely announcing the second dance… I suppose that’s my cue; good thing I did my research...

“I hope you had a lovely time with your first partner; however, it is now time to choose your second. The second dance will begin shortly. You have 5 minutes to choose your next partner.” I announce and descend the stairs for, hopefully, the last time. I reach the foot of the stairs when a Senator approaches me.

“Would you like to dance, your majesty?” he asks.

“No thank you.” I respond politely. He nods and walks away. Another Senator walks up, one from Ryloth.

“Care to dance, your highness?” He asks with his hand extended in my direction.

“I’ll have to pass, Senator.” I reply. He looks at me and rolls his eyes as he walks away.

“Excuse me, my lady.” A voice intervenes; not a familiar voice, but one I’ve heard before. I turn around to be met with Anakin Skywalker.

“Anakin.” I say, hopefully.

He smiles at me, “May I have this dance…” He extends his hand to me, “…your highness?” I smile and rest my hand in is, “You may.”

The horn sounds again as another song plays over the speakers. Something along the lines of classical and tango; a rather interesting mix to describe the alliance between us.

“If I may, did you really know how to ask me to dance or was it luck?” I ask out of curiousity as he leads me to the dance floor. He grabs my hand with his right and places his left on my waist. He pulls me close and whispers in my ear, “I knew.” At this, my heartrate picks up once more.

He resume our dance at normal distance.

“Your grace, if I may, who were you dancing with earlier?” Anakin asks as we continue to glide across the floor.

“Oh, that was my brother, (B/N). Many think he’s given up his prince status, but he merely rejected king status and still remains crown prince of Roe’ Leor.” I inform him, thinking nothing of the question.

“I see. So, your majesty, are you aware of the dangers that come with being partnered with the Republic?”

“Yes. Since Roe’ Leor is no longer a neutral system, the Separatists will now target us given our change in position.”

“Have you increased your security?” He asks as he dips me.

“Tripled.” I respond as he lifts me back up.

“Has the Republic asked about outposts?

“Yes.”

“And your answer?”

“Anakin Skywalker, did you ask me to dance for business of for pleasure?” I ask, finally feeling more comfortable in his presence.

“Officially, business.” He responds as he spins me similar to how (B/N) spun me earlier.

“Unofficially?” I ask. He smiles at me and whispers in my ear with a sultriness that makes my heart melt, “Pleasure.” Then, as he dips me, the last note of the song is played.

He brings me back to a standing position.

“It was a pleasure dancing with you, Anakin Skywalker.” I say as I bow, still a little disoriented from his answer.

“Please,” he bows and grabs my hand similar to our first meeting, “the pleasure was mine.” and he kisses it.

“We’ll see more of each other in the future, your highness.” He gives me a jaunty salute then walks over to Obi-Wan.

Never in my life have I ever wanted a man so badly.

Little did I know, even though I made my comment internally, Anakin was still close enough to listen in on my thoughts and walked away with a smile on his face...

I leave the Queen to return to her queenly duties and walk over to Obi-Wan.

“You looked rather cozy dancing with the Queen.” He noted.

“Really? I didn’t notice…” I replied coyly.

“Let’s just hope that you haven’t ruined our friendship when it’s only just begun.” He states as he makes his way over to Master Yoda.

I smile and look back at the Queen and she’s talking to her bodyguards.

Farewell, your highness. Until our next meeting…

The Queen’s eyes widen and her attention is turned towards me. I smile at her and she smiles back.

Farewell, Anakin Skywalker. Until we meet again.

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star-wars-scribbles-ff · 3 years

Text

Where I Belong | Chapter 3

Story Summary: The only family she’d ever known gave her a name; back when she belonged to something. But when that family is lost, she leaves it all behind. When destiny drops her in the last place she ever wanted to be, she has to earn back the trust and respect of the Republic that left her to die. Caught between the Jedi and the Grand Army of the Republic, she’ll discover where she belongs.

Fandom: Star Wars | Galaxy Far Far Away

Rating: T+

Story Genre/Warnings: action/adventure/found family | war violence, death, torture, discrimination, alcohol consumption, angst, fluff, found family, lots of clone boys, eventual Order 66 and rise of the Empire

Words: 5,078

Disclaimer: Majority of properties within this fanfic are owned by Lucasfilm/Disney. My OCs, as well as a few other things within this fanfic are of my own creation. Republic Cog header/chapter divider made by me 😊

CHAPTER NOTE: Here is the next chapter! No new arts this week but I do have a few people who wanted to be tagged so here we go 😬: @thisistheendtimes @tallyquark @divergent-llamas-03 If you’d like a tag on future chapters just let me know (or if you’d like to be removed).

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter | Arwen Corcer Mercenary Visuals

Coruscant. Edge of the newly established Military District. 0500 hours.

From her position, Arwen could see most of the base covered in a haze that had been slowly dissipating as time passed. She sat on the top level of an apartment complex which was under construction. The work crew had leave for the next few days and she found it relatively easy to climb the structure without issue or worry of being punished for trespassing.

The air was relatively crisp, for the upper levels of Coruscant at least; which wasn’t saying much. The further down you went the more toxic and polluted the air got. The sky was a range of blue and greys, the horizon lightening in color as the minutes went by. It was early; much of the planet hadn’t risen yet, however that meant very little with a population of over a trillion.

Due to her being so close to the Military bases, traffic in the skies was few and far between, since the bases had begun development, traffic lanes had been rerouted around those locations for security reasons.

She’d been staring at the base for almost thirty minutes now. It was pretty quiet. She’d see troopers on the wall walking about as well as troopers within the base now and again, however movement was infrequent and slow. Military life started early, especially during wartime; whatever battalions were stationed at this base might be on a leave of sorts. These guys were probably on a much deserved break… great. The thought almost made her stomach flip as she pressed two fingers to her temples and squeezed for a time.

She was torn. She felt the guilt eating away at her, gnawing at her like an open wound. It shouldn’t be a problem. This was the life- what she signed up for; they would’ve killed her if she hadn’t taken the job, and something told her there was a daunting and formidable force backing the client.

… She needed the money; it made her sick acknowledging it. It wasn’t for personal gain- just self preservation. She needed to get off Coruscant and as far from the Republic, the Jedi… the Army... as she could.

This job would hurt people; people who didn’t deserve to be hurt. There was no getting around it. The primary personnel within that base would be troopers, and while she hadn’t developed a personal connection to these specific individuals, her past with them overall just… muddled the waters. What would her team think-....

She shook her head quickly and suddenly; pushing that thought out of her mind as far as it would go before breathing in deeply. Resting her head back against the wall of a ventilation unit she had been leaning against, she let her eyes close.

Time to think about the mechanics. She had to do something. If she did nothing there would be no payout. Her knowledge regarding the GAR was probably outdated at this point, but she had a rough enough idea of the best locations to hit. Probably the courtyard where the large scale vehicles were kept. There seemed to be at least nine AT-Tes, twelve LAAT/is, and nine AT-RTs. It was easy to see from a watch point, and if she timed it right, she could do considerable damage without critically hurting anyone. She’d need to watch the base for at least forty-eight hours to log shift rotations and other movements; she’d have to find a good building nearby where she could watch the interior of the base during that time if this complex didn’t work out.

“What are you doing.” The thoughts dissipated like smoke quickly from her mind as she opened her eyes, shaking her head at her own words.

A soft whine caught her attention and she looked to the side, seeing Bek eyeing her. He had found her some time in the night. She was never sure how he did it, but he’d find her one way or another. She always made sure that wherever she was held up for the night, it was a spot he could get to just in case. The anooba’s brow moved subtly before his lower jaw dropped and his tongue rolled out as he began to pant. The action made Arwen give a small smile, although it faded as quickly as it appeared, and her gaze shifted towards the sky. She reached a hand out and rustled the creature’s fur, bringing her hand under to scratch the anooba’s chin before letting her hand fall away.

… She can’t do this. She can’t. What would her team think of her if she resorted to this; it was inexcusable.

The tension in her posture was causing a subtle ache to begin creeping up her neck and to the crown of her head as she forced her eyes shut, her brow knit. Gently forcing a breath out through her lips she blew the air from her lungs until she was forced to suck in another steady breath.

“What are you doing,” She uttered, sitting up suddenly to adjust her posture before pulling a bent leg up, hugging it closer to her chest. Beads of cold sweet dappled at her palms as she hastily rubbed them along her leg cradled close to her chest.

Sniffling in a breath, Arwen took a moment to ease her somewhat irregular breathing before glancing towards the anooba still staring at her. A small issue she had recently developed when overthinking was holding her breath or irregularly breathing, which was a terrible habit, especially on a job.

“What’d you think, bud?” Arwen questioned quietly, eyeing the messy-haired animal before raising her left hand to swipe some of the mohawk-like fur that stopped at the top of his head. “Should be able to find somewhere to sell this ordnance. If not- the underground market should take it without question.” She used her nails to scratch lightly over the creature's scalp, quick to notice how one of his rear legs began twitching in a scratching-like motion, and she smiled.

She could get quick money for the explosives. Not nearly enough for a one way trip to Saleucami, but she might be able to work off the rest as part of a flight crew on the way to the outer rim.

Arwen found herself nodding lightly. This could work. It wouldn’t be easy, but then again that job wouldn’t have been either.

With her right hand, she grasped at the satchel sitting on her right before steadily getting to her feet. Her gaze circled back around to where Bek sat patiently.

“You ready?” She couldn’t bring herself to lighten her voice very much, but all the same, the anooba perked up at her words and got to his feet. Throwing the satchel over her shoulder, along with her other satchel holding the parts to her rifle, Arwen began her descent from the roost.

Bek went ahead of her towards where a construction step-ladder resided. She followed, maneuvering her way through some of the materials which had been abandoned for the day.

She came to a stop in front of the ladder that led down to the lower levels of the building, her brow twitched slightly as she blinked her eyes before her gaze fell to the ground.

You don’t need to look. Why do I need to look?

Something gripped her chest and poked and pulled at her back; a nagging feeling. It happened sometimes at random. She needed to learn how to ignore it.

Turning around, Arwen reluctantly eyed the military base, shrouded in what little darkness was left as the sun would fully rise within the hour. The thick layer of fog and cloud still remained a ways above her, however it was starting to dissipate as the clock turned.

Her eyes dotted around the structure, jaw hardly set and gaze almost grudging. Sometimes it felt like that little nagging-... force inside her was just trying to make her life difficult and guilt ridden.

The slightest movement on the far side of the structure drew her attention and her head shifted to the side as she spotted someone walking towards the closest wall on the far left side. Attention grabbed, Arwen watched quietly as the person stopped at the foot of the wall and looked around for a beat.

They didn’t belong. Something’s wrong.

Her hand already busy scrambling inside her bag, Arwen snatched her detached rifle scope and quickly knelt down on the ledge of the building, raising the attachment. A small bark of impatience from Bek did little to tear her attention away as Arwen watched the being through the scope.

Female. Possibly human. What almost caught her attention almost immediately was the identical satchel hung over the individuals back. They had sent someone else in.

“No no no,” Arwen grumbled. This wasn’t happening. Continuing to watch through her scope, the individual took one last look around before suddenly shooting a rappelling line up towards the top of the wall. Securing it, the person began to scale the face.

Why hadn’t cameras picked them up?

Turning her attention to the towers not far away from the wall the individual was scaling, Arwen adjusted her scope, adjusting the lens before focusing on one of the cameras. Small sparks coming from the device wasn’t a good sign. They were good. They were also about to blow this base sky high with everyone in it.

That familiar feeling was already starting to course through her veins; the adrenaline was starting to spread through her body.

Cursing under her breath, Arwen finally throws the scope back into her bag. “Rangir- (to hell with it) I’ll be back, Bek!” Arwen called before running down past the anooba, sprinting towards the lift.

It felt like an eternity before Arwen finally found herself at the foot of the wall, about to scale the same spot the other mercenary had. She did a quick once over of the surrounding area, making sure it was clear before she shot her rappelling line up to the top of the wall. Her training had covered various methods of barrier traversal; this was something she was prepared for. In fact her training covered various raids of simulated republic bases as well. That just now came back to her. Not that it would help her now. It had been a long time.

She still had the satchel full of explosives on her; probably not the best thing.

Getting to the top of the wall, Arwen looked up and down both ways, seeing a Trooper farther down as he walked away. Maybe a shift change. This other merc would have had to make her move at the proper time so Arwen might be able to operate in the window she’d created.

Looking around the base below, Arwen quickly saw the other woman sneaking her way around the AT-Tes. Arwen cursed under her breath before waiting quietly for a moment.

“What are you doing,” She mumbled. Looking around again, Arwen considered her options while she had the briefest time to do so, and began assembling her rifle.

Maybe she could just take them out before they did any damage. It would alert the entire base to her presence too, but she couldn’t stand by while this happened, and she could get away…. Probably.

Doing another check, Arwen scanned either side of the wall. No one. She'd have to be quick if it was a shift change. Whoever this woman was, they had to study the shifts and when they changed. She might have another minute.

Finishing the rifle, Arwen quickly set it to her shoulder and found the woman again before looking through the scope.

Identify. Breathe in. Breathe ou-

"Hey!" Her head snapped up, seeing a trooper had rounded the corner and saw her.

Arwen cursed before quickly resetting the rifle to her shoulder. The woman had noticed and quickly hid behind an AT-Te for cover as Arwen fired several shots.

"Blast-" Arwen cursed again before looking to see the trooper running towards her, blaster raised. Looking back to the woman who still had the explosives, Arwen clenched her jaw before throwing the rifle down into the base.

“What are you doing-” Arwen grits her teeth before blowing air out quickly, jumping down after the rifle. It was a long way down, longer than she’d like, and she didn’t have her armor to soften that blow. She landed with a somewhat abrupt grunt of pain as she rolled a few times to soften the blow to her legs as best she could. Scrambling to her feet she snatched the rifle from the ground and went after the mercenary.

"Intruders! We have a perimeter breach!" She heard the trooper's words fading away but she knew the problem wasn't going to. Things were about to blow up, figuratively but possibly literally if she didn't stop this woman.

Weaving through the large walkers, Arwen ran around the legs of one, only to stumble into a series of blaster fire. Scurrying backwards, she pulled her pistol and shot a look around the walker leg, seeing the woman standing near another walker, holding a small blaster pistol as well, firing off shots.

Arwen hid behind the walker leg for a brief time to get her breathing under control, the throbbing in her leg now screaming, pushing other more prevalent thoughts aside.

“Haar’chak- k'atini (Damn it- suck it up/its only pain),” She seethed before knocking her head back into the walker leg. Tightening her grip on the blaster, Arwen swung around quickly, firing off several shots, blaster pistol grasped in both hands as she forced the assailant back to cover.

Glancing to the side, Arwen saw troopers organizing near the weapons depot. They were about to have some problems.

"We could just handle this together you know," A voice called. Arwen looked back seeing the woman peeking around a walker leg. "Split the coin and go our separate ways. I could use a hand- someone needs to distract the canon fodder."

"So you can set the explosives then jump ship when I'm gunned down? No thank you." Arwen responded, still holding her pistol up and ready.

"Worth a shot," She chuckled before turning, shooting off her blaster again before tossing something small and round. Arwen's eyes widened as she quickly held up her arms to protect herself as the presumed grenade went off, spewing out thick smoke.

Arwen coughed, waving the substance away from her face before walking through, the pistol held up in one hand as she held her sleeved arm to her mouth. Coming to the other side, Arwen noticed the merc was gone and a siren began blaring.

"Great." Arwen muttered before looking towards the largest structure, seeing her run inside.

She walked for a time before shaking her head. No turning back now. Huffing Arwen removed her finger from the trigger guard, keeping it outside as she picked up a run. "What are you doing- What are you doing- What the hell are you doing?" She cursed herself over and over.

Running after the woman, Arwen held up her blaster ready in one hand, finger still outside the trigger guard as she took off into the base doors. Seeing the merc disappear just around the corner down the right corridor, Arwen takes off after her.

Rounding the corner, she saw the merc take a left further down the hall. Something told Arwen this woman had no idea where she was going as they continued down halls. She'd made a giant circle.

Slowing to a stop down one hall, Arwen caught her breath before looking up and down the corridors. There weren't any troopers which was concerning. They'd been spotted outside the base, and the thick layer of fumes from the smoke grenade had allowed them to sneak inside undetected, but that wouldn't last.

Looking down one hall that branched adjacent to the one she was standing in, Arwen began jogging down it. If the merc kept running in a similar pattern, she should be able to cut the woman off.

Turning a corner, Arwen came to a hard stop at seeing a trooper with yellow orange accented armor walking away from her, talking on comms. He didn’t have a helmet.

"What do you mean the perimeter was breached?”

The responses the trooper was getting were too muffled for her to hear.

“Yeah I hear the siren- Where were they reported?"

Arwen went to back up when the woman ran around the corner on the other side of the hall.

"No, I haven't-... hey!"

Arwen made eye contact with the woman past the trooper, who appeared to be an officer of some kind.

"Rex I've got eyes on an intruder, south end of t-"

Arwen ran down the hall as the woman raised her blaster and began firing in the general vicinity of where they were. She practically tackled the Officer, who wasn't armed with a blaster, firing off her own pistol until the woman ran away. The string of curses the Officer let out made Arwen scramble off of him before stumbling to her feet.

"I- sorry- Sorry, sir!" She yelled back to him before taking off after the woman.

Running around the corner, Arwen continued and ended up pushing past a bunch of troopers who were heading the same direction before continuing on. It was all going by too fast. She needed to slow down and consider her own position.

She finally saw the open blast doors around fifty feet away, and picked up the pace. She saw the woman running for a secluded wall, and continued out of the door. She isn't at all prepared as she collides with something. Her head smacks into something hard, the air pushed from her lungs as she tumbled to the ground along with whatever hit her.

She was on her stomach, slowly pushing herself up, a hand coming to her head. She felt warmth, but also something cool covering her left brow, and woozily lifted a hand to her face, feeling her glove become wet.

Suddenly a hard pressure was put into her back, and she grunted before proceeding to struggle.

"Don't move-" That voice. A trooper.

An iron grip suddenly snapped the wrist of the hand she had to her head and they were both craned behind her back.

"Rex what-"

"Got her, it's under control." The one who had tackled her, called Rex, who currently had his knee dug into her back just below her chest plate responded.

Arwen craned to see the Officer she'd tackled had jogged up and came to a stop, his eyes on her. "It's not her."

"What do you mean its not her?" The Rex trooper's tone quickly turned tense.

"All due respect-" Arwen grunted, trying to get up only to have the trooper above her dig his knee further into her back as she hissed. "She's getting away," Arwen growled, just able to see the woman disappear over the wall.

Arwen wasn't prepared for the pressure on her back to suddenly disappear before she was hauled to her feet, hands now cuffed behind her back.

"Sir, someone just scaled the wall," Another trooper had joined the scene and several others were also coming over.

"Cody?" The trooper, Rex, who still had a hard grip on her, one hand on her shoulder, between her neck and shoulder plate, looked to the Officer she'd tackled inside.

Arwen met his eyes, her brow knit and one twitching from the throbbing that was now becoming prominent. She'd really hit her face hard when that Rex fellow ran into her.

The officer, called Cody, noticeable scarring over his left eye, dressed in white infantry armor painted with yellow-orange accents, seemed to consider her for a moment before looking towards a small squad of troopers that had shown up.

"Get another squad and check the outer perimeter. I want to know where they got in."

"South wall, near the west Tower." Arwen muttered, catching the attention of a few of them. "She-"

"Shut it," The Rex trooper snapped, giving her a small jolt before pulling her backwards, directing her away. "I'll put this one in containment."

The Officer, Cody, walked up to them and Arwen leaned back a fraction, only to remember she had another trooper behind her when Cody went to remove her rifle, unclipping the strap, sliding it away from her before nodding for the white and blue armored trooper. He was somewhat rough as he turned her around and began walking her inside.

Wait- where did the satchel full of explosives go… She didn’t have it with her.

As she was being led back into the base, none of it was registering. There was no replay button. What had she done.

As Anakin walked down the halls of the Republic base, his thoughts dwelled on his wife. Since they’d gotten back from Tibrin, he’d been given a short leave, along with the battalions that had been present for the wretched Campaign. He’d been looking forward to breakfast with Padmé before he got a transmission from Marshal Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. It was Obi-Wan’s battalion, but Cody had informed him that his former master was unreachable. Whatever that meant. He might be in a meditative session with Master Yoda.

Anakin had reluctantly taken himself from bed, and from the arms of his love, and dragged himself out to the base on the account of intruders that had scaled the outer perimeter wall. He had requested Cody hold off on giving him details; he needed the time to collect his composure and thoughts.

Arriving at the detention area of the base, Skywalker was met by Commander Cody and Captain Rex of the 501st Legion. He’d temporarily led the 501st on Tibrin. He didn’t have a battle group of his own yet, but whenever the 501st was free, he’d usually lead them on Campaigns and assignments as the legion was part of the 7th Sky Corps, also under the command of his old master.

“Alright, I’m here.” Anakin breathed, crossing his arms as he came to a stop near the two Clone Officers who were standing over a computer against the wall down the hall of the interrogation block. “Tell me what happened.”

“Sir,” Captain Rex was the first to turn and acknowledge him. His blond hair was trimmed finely and as neat as always. The scar on his chin that he got at Arantara was now light in color and relatively faded.

Anakin took a step forward as the Captain gestured to the computer screen. His eyes find the recorded footage of two suspects running down the halls of the base.

“We believe it is now a foiled attempt to bomb this base in some capacity.”

“Separatist?” Anakin inquired.

"Hard to tell, sir. One of the accomplices got away; the other we have in custody." Commander Cody responded and gestured with his thumb over his shoulder towards the interrogation block.

"Has she said anything?"

"No, sir." Rex jumped back in, looking down the hall where he knew the cell was. "We thought it best to wait for you, sir."

Anakin nodded and glanced down the hall as well before returning his gaze to the footage. He watched as one assailant ran around the corner of a corridor, followed by another at the other end, Cody in the middle. Both appeared to be female. He watched as the one began firing before the other jumped on Cody, then proceeded to get up and say something to the Commander before the chase continued.

"Which one do we have in custody?" Anakin asks.

"This one," Cody responded, pointing to the screen at the one that had tackled him.

Anakin nodded before sighing quietly.

"Alright, I'll talk to her." The Jedi nodded to himself before glancing between the two officers. "Anything else I should know?"

"We found this," Rex spoke up, gesturing to a table on the other side of the room with an open satchel full of explosives. "This belongs to that one," Rex gestured down the hall. "The one that got away had one similar in size and shape, so we assume they both came in here with the same intentions."

Anakin processed this before departing to talk with the criminal. He headed to the cell, and the troopers guarding the door stood at attention before the shield disengaged and he entered. She didn't look at him as he walked in, hands clasped behind his back.

He watched her for a moment, evaluating her posture, and her overall aura. She was difficult to read. The outer shell of her emotional state was disconnected, somewhat cold but also anxious; feelings of guilt surrounded her, although his intuition told him that was something she was struggling to repress.

He notices the blood covering the side of her head; there was a large wound over her brow, dried as well as fresh blood painted the side of her face. Her eyes had yet to meet his.

"So," He began, continuing to look her over for a time before letting his eyes settle on her face. "You had enough explosive on you to blow this base into the upper atmosphere… Do you have anything to say?"

She didn't say anything, but her gaze shifted to the side, posture also shifting, cuffed hands in her lap. After some time passed he spoke again.

"You don't look like a Separatist... look more mercenary material," He considered. "You getting a big payout?"

She clenched her jaw but remained quiet, looking to the side, her brow knit gently. Despite the tightness to her brow, she didn’t seem bothered by the obvious injury to her head. She was good at controlling her external presentation.

Anakin finally took a couple steps closer, resting his hands on the edge of the table that was between them.

"Did you get sold out by our other uninvited guest?"

She remained quiet and Anakin's brow knit after some time passed. He could feel the presence of the clone officers on the other side of the shield, but didn't bother looking.

“Were you at all concerned with the damage you might do to this installation? Or the lives you might have taken?” The question was an odd one, especially for this individual. They looked mercenary material, and those types didn’t care who they hurt as long as the price was high enough. It was an odd question, but something told him to ask it.

He knew she was about to look at him before she proceeded to, and his own head tilted slightly to the side as she lifted her head to meet his gaze for the first time. Almost immediately flickers of recognition sparked his expression and his brow knit tightly as he eyed her.

"...Who are you?" He finally asked. The question was vague, and the merc seemed to understand that as she didn’t back down from his gaze. The seconds passed and she gave no indication that she’d respond before she noticeably began to react under his gaze. Her own brow twitched, expression snapping away before returning as he continued to eye her with an almost surprised and confused expression.

She looked familiar. His head wasn’t telling him criminal; he knew her from somewhere else. He had to get his nunas in a row.

The Jedi eventually excused himself and exited the cell. The energy shield quickly closed behind him as he walked back down the hall and out of earshot.

“Sir?” Anakin turned and saw Rex standing a few feet away, expression indicating his uncertainty.

"Has the criminal database picked anything up?" Skywalker finally asked, crossing his arms.

"No sir," Rex responded. "In fact we haven't gotten a hit anywhere. On any civilian system at least."

Anakin considered this for a moment before breathing out quietly. There was something he could try. But if he was wrong...

"Keep searching," Anakin nodded to Rex, causing the trooper to do the same in return before Anakin headed back to the cell.

Cody walked past him towards where Rex was and Anakin entered the cell, nodding for the troopers guarding the door to leave as well. He entered and the shield closed behind him.

She looked up, watching as he stepped inside and crossed his arms across his chest.

Silence followed his entry, and after a few moments of processing his next words, Anakin cleared his throat.

“If my suspicions are correct… I think I remember you. We’ve met.” He stated. “Well- We’ve spoken briefly.” He nodded to the side as he corrected his words before taking a beat to consider her reaction.

Her brow knit and it seemed he’d caught her attention, and in a good way. She seemed concerned. Good. That was a good sign.

“This was around six months ago,” Anakin began, leaning against the wall to the right of the interrogation room, her left. “The Garos system… Someone sent a distress signal to the battle group I was stationed with near Sundari; the distress signal came from Garo IV. Mission details consisted of a clone team with highly sensitive intel that needed an extraction, from what they told me.” He watched her quietly for a few seconds. Her expression seemed to widen as he spoke and she had slowly leaned back into her chair, brow knit with alarm.

"I was the Jedi you spoke to. We sent gunships to extract you but..." He trailed off, his thoughts dwelling on that day. It had stuck with him for weeks before he was finally able move on.

She stared at him, the silence was deafening and he felt like he was making headway by the look that had overtaken her expression.

"That was you.... wasn't it." He finally stated, the questioning tone from his voice was gone. There was no doubt in his mind. This was her. It was a female voice and he briefly saw the file of who he was speaking with that day when she had identified herself.

She clenched her jaw before looking down to her lap.

A mixed array of emotions were swirling in the small space of the interrogation room, and Anakin felt a sudden need to explain what had happened that day.

"We thought you were dead." It caught him somewhat off guard when she spoke up.

"Do I look dead, sir?"

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Chapter Note: How many times did Arwen ask herself what she was doing? 😂 Not sure but I apologize if it annoyed you. Hope it was enjoyed! Comments/reblogs and/or feedback are appreciated 🥰

#my fic #my writing #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #clones #star wars ocs #anakin skywalker #captain rex #commander cody #grand army of the republic #clone wars ocs #jedi #republic military #coruscant #galaxy far far away

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