#because she did she would she said she did in canon asking vader to run away together as the republic burnt around them

[tennessoui]

In the assigned married fic, has Anakin even begun to process Padme saying that both of them will be moving to Naboo together? Like, they spoke earlier in the chapter about Anakin moving in with her on Coruscant, but Obi-Wan apparently spilled the beans about a much more permanent relocation to Naboo, and I am looking forward to Anakin's response to that, once he gets through processing everything else and remembers that part of the "conversation"....

i think padmé views moving to naboo more as a possibility than a future concrete plan -- the offer to be a permanent advisor on naboo is something she'd like to discuss with anakin as her husband before taking it or rejecting it. she says there's a lot of work she still wants to do in the senate, and she's probably thinking that it will be a few years before she would be able to go anyway. definitely after the war, but in her mind, she thinks anakin has every intention to leave the order after the war's over....because he kind of told her that. at least, in her mind he did: (from chapter 1)

“[Obi-Wan] asked me if I planned to leave the Order after the war,” he tells his wife. “And I lied, and then I think he began to support me. That’s what he looked like, anyway.” Padmé blinks at him, eyelashes falling slowly onto the jut of her cheek and then rising. “That’s good then,” she says, sounding hesitant. “That he supports us.” “Yeah,” Anakin replies, raising his hand to tuck a tendril of hair behind her ear. “Though…I’m sorry you had to lie,” she says, pressing forward until their faces are only a hand’s width apart. “Hopefully…” she trails off, biting her lip. Then she shakes her head slightly, and her mouth turns up into a smile as if she cannot help herself. “Hopefully he will not take the truth so hard.”

so anakin never says what lie he told obi-wan, he just says that he lied when asked if he was going to leave the Order, and that lie made obi-wan support him.

from an outsider's perspective, especially a biased outsider who is married to one of the insiders and believes them to have a future together, padmé's immediate understanding of this is that obi-wan asked if he was going to leave the order and anakin lied to him and told him he planned to stay and obi-wan began to support their marriage because he thinks he won't be losing anakin (padmé, who has three braincells, has long since realized obi-wan's obsessed with her husband)

and that's why she's smiling at the end (and also why they have sex at the fade to black) -- she believes anakin has just told her that when the war ends, he'll leave the Order to be with her and build a future together <3 so the offer to go to naboo is an option she can talk to her husband about, but she knows that anakin is going to no longer be a jedi....and if he's not a jedi, and she's not a senator....what's keeping them on coruscant?

BUT it's not just obi-wan that's feeling a bit catty during that dinner party scene, so i intentionally wrote padmé as putting this idea forward as less of a possibility and more of a done deal that she knows anakin will accept -- she talks about it like it's great big BACK OFF signs picketed around anakin because obi-wan is the biggest threat to their marriage in the entire galaxy and she's always known that

(but also no anakin has not begun to process that whole thing - but padmé, who now realizes they're NOT on the same page, is absolutely going to bring it up post-haste in the next chapter)

#asks #a more perfect union #obikin #sorry for all the words no one's really asked about padmé's perspective in this and i jumped at the opportunity to talk about it lol #i really have enjoyed writing these characters being their worst selves #like padmé isn't the bad guy in this story but she's definitely a wife who is in love with her husband and WILL fight to keep him #theres a moment ive written in the next chapter where shes like i put my husband above the republic and you should put your wife there too #because she did she would she said she did in canon asking vader to run away together as the republic burnt around them #her priorities when pushed against a rock and a hard place are very much: anakin then the republic #and the crux and tension of this fic is that anakin's are very clearly: obi-wan then the republic (which is just obi-wan again) #then padmé then the jedi order

[fellthemarvelous]

The Jedi got their own Doctor as well.

I haven't written fanfic in years but I might actually write this.

The unhinged, slightly incoherent Doctor Who/Star Wars crossover meta-ish long post no one asked for

Ahsoka season 2 needs to give me the backstory between Ahsoka and Huyang. How did they find each other? Was it after Ezra rescued her on Malachor? Was it before that? We have no idea what she was doing leading up to those events because she only showed up on Rebels for a handful of episodes.

And the last time we saw Huyang, he and Ahsoka and the younglings were having to deal with space pirates (HONDOOOOOO) and then General Grievous. Ahsoka was much younger in that time and we never saw Huyang again after that.

At what point in canon did they run into each other again? I think he's the only one who knows that Anakin = Vader based on a cryptic reply he gave to Hera when she asked him what Ahsoka's master was like. All he said was intense.

He's so used to Ahsoka's chaotic nature that every time she's like "I'm gonna do the thing" he's just like yeah okay because he's been dealing with the Jedi for 25,000 years and they are going to yeet themselves into the unknown whether he thinks it's a good idea or not. He remembers what Anakin Skywalker was like, after all.

This is one of my favorite things about Huyang's "history" though.

The idea that even the Jedi have their own version of the 10th Doctor is hilarious to me, and that rumor started somewhere.

But I also love what another droid says about Huyang in this passage.

Huyang is 25,000 years old so he's had plenty of time to become the one the Jedi go to when it comes to lightsaber construction. He helps the Jedi build weapons that are meant to be used as tools of self-defense because lightsabers are, in fact, extremely dangerous. This sounds like something the Doctor would do because the Jedi were peacekeepers and not soldiers, and it makes you sad when you realize that Huyang had to watch as the order he had devoted himself to for 25,000 years to were killed in a genocide that turned the Jedi's closest allies against them by removing their free will and forcing them to kill their Jedi generals, and it was all planned over centuries by the Sith who intentionally kept their numbers small.

When he ran into Ahsoka again, what was it like for him? She was one of the few survivors of the Jedi Purge. He remembers her as a child and now she's in her 40s. She was one of the few who was able to grow up because she survived.

What was going on in his head when he handed Ezra the emitter he was looking for because he somehow knew Ezra was looking for one like Kanan's? Huyang somehow knew it would be important to keep a second identical part around when he watched Caleb Dume (Kanan Jarrus) construct his very first lightsaber.

How much does Kanan's death weigh on him? Kanan was another child who survived the Purge. He met Kanan as Caleb not many years before the war ended and the Jedi were wiped out. Caleb had to change his name because he watched the clones gun down his master and he ran away exactly like she told him to before she died. Running away is what lead him to sacrificing his life so the rebellion would survive. Kanan fell in love with Hera, fathered a child he never got to meet, and now Huyang is getting to know Kanan's son (and will absolutely not be teaching Jacen how to construct a lightsaber "thank you very much your mom already said no" and the Tenth Doctor is used to angry moms slapping him in the face.)

Huyang spent 25,000 years living in one galaxy and teaching generation after generation of Jedi how to construct lightsabers. He was given the title of Professor because of the wealth of knowledge he carries around inside of him, and he only uses it for good, and he shares insightful wisdom and knowledge with the Jedi Order century after century after century.

And because he followed Ahsoka into the mouth of a space whale so they could travel to a completely different galaxy altogether, he is now stuck in another galaxy far, far away with Ahsoka (present), Sabine (future), Baylon Skoll (past), Shin Hati (new), a bunch of pacifist turtles, the force ghost of Anakin Skywalker, and the images of the Father, Daughter and Son that are carved into the mountains somewhere (and for some reason the Daughter's head is missing).

Now he can pass the tale of the Jedi across the universe. On the same planet where the Mortis gods are worshipped. It's going to link directly to the fact that Ahsoka is connected to the Daughter, both of whom were killed by the Son on Mortis, but Daughter allowed Anakin to use her remaining life force to bring Ahsoka back to life.

Is this going to turn into the story of how Huyang has to say goodbye to Ahsoka Tano, former Jedi and survivor who became a dear friend and travel buddy?

Is Seatos calling her back home? She possesses a gift that comes from an actual god. It's the only reason she's alive. And why Ezra had to reach into the past and save her from dying on Malachor at the hands of Vader. It would have tied the light side of the Force to a Sith temple.

There is only one other person Ahsoka shares such a strong bond with, and that's Captain Rex (is he alive, is he dead, if he died offscreen I am going to fucking sue Disney). Yeah I know he's old now, but he deserves a proper send-off. The Clone Wars was, as Dave Filoni has said, a story about Ahsoka Tano and Captain Rex. Captain Rex is her best friend and the one who was standing by her side when the Clone Wars ended. Neither of them would have survived without the other.

Ahsoka knew there was no way she would be able to save the other clones, but she refused to be the one who killed them. She couldn't do it. They might have all shared a face but all of them were unique and important to her, and she could never ask Rex to save her life by killing them. It made getting out a lot more difficult because the clones were able to just get back up again and start fighting a few minutes later since Rex was only stunning them. (Interesting how that happened on Seatos too but this time because the troopers were zombies.)

Ezra was able to escape Seatos in Thrawn's ship but Ahsoka, Sabine and Huyang got left behind.

Did Rex even find out Ahsoka was alive after she came back from Malachor? If so, this means he's losing her yet again. For the fourth time in their lives. If not, then he's still on his third time (which was Malachor).

Also interesting how he was found on a planet in the Seelos system, and it was just a barren wasteland like Tatooine. Seatos and Seelos sound alike. Satine and Sabine sound alike and were both Mandalorian. How Sabine built a deadly weapon called The Duchess when she was being trained by the Empire that was able to disintegrate soldiers wearing Mandalorian armor, and it was named after Satine, the pacifist who turned Mandalore into a peaceful planet. And ironically now it's at peace because the Mandalorians were wiped out after the fall of the Empire. And think about how the clones all came from the DNA of Jango Fett, a Mandalorian bounty hunter with blue and silver armor (and described as genetically perfect specimen by the Kaminoans).

Huyang is watching all of this unfold, but he's so old that it's just one of countless adventures he's been on, only this time he bonded with a former Jedi after a war that devastated their order completely. He might be a droid, but he's also more than that. He's ancient and wise and found a friend in Ahsoka Tano, the one who is imbued with the life force of a god and comes from a lineage that stands out above the others because it's the lineage of the Sith as well.

And as Huyang has now famously said...

How is it all going to end? If he is the Doctor, how did he become a droid too?

One day I might write a long ass fic about this if I ever have the energy to do so.

#doctor who #star wars #professor huyang #ahsoka tano #captain rex #sabine wren #darth vader #anakin skywalker #the mortis gods #david tennant saying that line was a lovely experience

[allatariel]

I posted 241 times in 2022

37 posts created (15%)

204 posts reblogged (85%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@spectral-musette

@allatariel

@seventyonedrum

@imsfire2

I tagged 239 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#my writing - 27 posts

#i made this - 23 posts

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#canon divergence - 18 posts

#spectral-musette - 17 posts

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#battlestar galactica (2003) - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#i’m a ux/ui/usability designer at a university and this is why i set verdana as the default font for all online courses nearly 15 years ago

I sent 3 gifts in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Cere wasn’t altogether certain how Cal and BD-1 had recovered Trilla’s lightsaber during the chaos and confusion of her confrontation with Darth Vader and their subsequent escape. By rights it should have been consigned to the depths of Nur; laid to rest as Trilla herself could not have been. But somehow it was here, its crystal, its heart crying out in anguish and rage.

Because of what Cal had told her he had seen when he brought it back to her in place of the holocron they sought, she knew it was the same lightsaber Trilla had always carried. Even altered, visibly unrecognizable, Cere could feel that it was indeed the same kyber Trilla had carried since her Gathering and through her whole apprenticeship. Like Trilla herself, beneath the rage and anguish was the barest flicker of the light. An ember of the roaring hearth fire Cere had nurtured for years and then abandoned. Compounding failure on failure.

Cere sighed. Dwelling on her failures was not useful. She had already dwelled on them for far too long.

After escaping the Inquisitorius, after seeing what her actions had brought Trilla to, her own dark and violent emotions had festered into deep despair. But not before she had turned them on herself, tearing and hacking her hair with her lightsaber till the crystal screamed on the verge of bleeding.

Shaking, the hilt had fallen from her hand to clatter at her knees amidst the singed remains of her once beautifully adorned braids.

That was the first time she had pushed the Force down, shunning the comfort it offered, even as she was grateful for its warning. After all, her kyber was only a reflection of her own heart. Beaten and alone, yes, but unwilling to fully embrace the Dark Side.

She had sold her crystal then, because she needed the money to be sure, but mostly to run from the song it sang to her in the Force.

That had been her first faltering step to where she found herself now. Kneeling on the ground outside a ship that had become a home with others, once beaten and alone, who had become a family.

26 notes - Posted October 11, 2022

#4

Secretary Laura Roslin swept down the buzzing corridors of the battlestar Galactica escorted by Mr. Doral on their way to meet with the commanding officer. As the public relations executive coordinating today’s ceremony, Mr. Doral had been aboard Galactica for weeks in preparation. The Ceremony was to commemorate the opening of the first of its kind living museum, a joint venture between the Colonial fleet and the Colonial government. The Galactica would remain in service as a training ship, under the jurisdiction of the Military Academy of the Colonial fleet, and be open to guided public tours, managed by the Ministry of Education of the Colonial government. As Secretary of Education, Laura already knew all of this, but Mr. Doral droned on either unaware or unbothered by that fact. Laura was used to dealing with men like him, men who underestimated her in every conceivable way.

As they rounded a corner, Laura half caught Mr. Doral suggesting that she advocate for Galactica to have a networked computerized system placed on board. Did he just say what I think he said?

Laura stopped short and turned toward him. “Excuse me,” she began, as he noticed her no longer next to him and hurried back. “Did you just ask me to convince the commanding officer of this battlestar to allow an integrated computer network to be placed on his ship?”

“Ma’am, as you well know, this would make it much easier for the teachers—”

“Mr. Doral, those issues have already been addressed without the need for a computerized network, as I am sure you are aware, having worked closely with Zachary Adama over the last few weeks,” Laura cut him off as politely as possible even as she internally bristled at the sheer audacity of him presuming to enlighten a doctor of education, former teacher, former superintendent of Caprica City schools, and current two term Secretary of Education on the needs of teachers.

He blustered on, as men like him often do, “The inconvenience and cost simply don’t justify it. You have to agree it’s a ridiculously antiquated attitude.”

“No, I don’t. I agree with the director of this project and the CO of this ship.” When Doral appeared ready to continue pushing the issue, Laura held up her hand. “I see this is important to you, Mr. Doral, but the decision has already been made and I won’t reconsider. This museum is supposed to be a living record of the technology and tactics necessary to fight the most devastating enemy humanity has ever faced. An enemy we did not defeat, despite the peace we have enjoyed since the armistice. An enemy who relied on networked computerized systems. The answer is no.” The steel in her voice conveyed the finality of this discussion even as Mr. Doral appeared to grope around for an appropriate way to backpedal. Laura didn’t give him the time. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am more than familiar with the location of the CO’s quarters and I’d rather like to greet my husband unaccompanied.”

Mildly gratified by his somewhat chastened expression and the surprise in his eyes at the word ‘husband,’ Laura continued on her way. Mercifully, Doral did not follow. She was practically there already, anyway. Turning down the next corridor, she spied the end of the last short corridor leading down to Bill’s quarters. Her pace increasing subconsciously in her eagerness, Laura came to the top of the stairs and saw Saul stepping out of the hatch. He left it ajar when he turned at the familiar clack of her heels on the stairs.

“Hello, Laura,” he greeted as he leaned in to kiss her cheek like the old friend he was.

“Saul, it’s good to see you,” she replied smoothly, willing herself not to recoil from the strong smell of alcohol on his breath. While she wasn’t opposed to drinking, since the deaths of her father and sisters at the hands of a drunk driver, Laura had no tolerance for careless drunkenness like Saul’s, especially at such an early hour. She’d already dealt with one inebriated Tigh today and her patience was wearing thin. Were it any other day, Laura wouldn't have held back, but she didn’t want to do anything that might mar the ceremony. And reuniting with her husband after three months apart was far more important to her at the moment.

“Bill’s been expecting you—giddy as a cadet all day. I’ll give you kids some privacy,” Saul winked and quipped cheekily in his gruff voice, with surprisingly little slurring, before nodding to her and walking away.

“See you at the ceremony,” Laura said, watching him wobble only once on the short flight of stairs out of the little corridor. She turned back to the hatch and found Bill in his tanks and dress uniform trousers, stocking feet visible just over the rim of the hatchway. He offered her an understanding and slightly apologetic look and she pressed her lips into a rueful smile that conveyed ‘thank you, but it’s not your fault.’

Saul was forgotten as he pulled her to him through the hatch and closed it.

Laura hummed contentedly as he held her to his chest, one of her hands over his heart as she rounded his waist with the other. Eventually she looked up and they gazed into each other’s eyes. Reaching a hand up to his face she confirmed he had freshly shaved, and intimated huskily, “I was hoping to find you like this.” He smiled warmly and slowly brought his lips to hers, kissing her senseless. 

After, when they’d both found a measure of equilibrium together again, Laura kicked her heels off and settled into one of the plush leather chairs adjacent to his rack to watch him put on his dress uniform.

“The gold braid of the Admiral’s piping really suits you, too bad your Dress Grays don’t have it,” she said as she noticed his duty uniform jacket lying on the rack next to him after he picked up the matching trousers.

“No, just the pips. It’s a little garish don’t you think?” She watched him hang up his blues, fingering the gold braid as he hooked the hanger above his rack.

“Not at all, I like you in gold.” She ran her thumb lovingly over her gold wedding band, regarding him intensely as he caught the gesture and smiled fondly, though he didn’t meet her gaze. Even after nearly twenty years of marriage, he still seemed at times to marvel at her honest attraction and regard for him. Bill may not have been the most effusive person, but he loved fiercely and he deserved to know he was loved just as fiercely in return.

30 notes - Posted November 14, 2022

#3

Stranger Things headcanon time! So, Eddie is neurodivergent, pretty sure he’s ADHD. Because he’s definitely smart, but he can’t focus on things that don’t interest him. And he hyperfocuses on D&D and music. I think he probably did the bare minimum in school, only just passing by the skin of his teeth, until his first crack at 12th grade two years ago. Something changed and he just couldn’t get his grades up to scratch.

Now I think maybe that was when he moved in with his uncle, maybe during that school year or the summer just before. And maybe that was because his parents died or were just not around for whatever reason, be it jail or hospitalization or just abandoning him or what have you. Perhaps one had left his life sometime prior, even as early as his birth. In any case, I don’t think this was the first time Uncle Wayne had to step in.

Something traumatic happened and Eddie was no longer able to tread water with his school work and he failed. He threw himself into D&D and music even harder than before to escape.

Regardless, he probably hasn’t failed more than those two times as Chrissy had been in middle school with him and for that to have been the case, he certainly hadn’t failed at all between 8th grade and that first run through senior year. Unless she failed as well at some point since then and I think that’s highly unlikely. If he only failed those two times then she would have been in 6th grade when he was in 8th, the first and last years of middle school. She can’t be any younger and have that math work out. As long as she didn’t fail or skip a year, which is also unlikely, she’s a senior now, 17 (according to Ms. Kelley’s records), and Eddie is 19 or 20 depending on where his birthday falls in the year.

The point is, I think Eddie is ADHD and definitely struggled in school but has only failed the same year twice as a result of some life-changing, probably traumatic, event.

46 notes - Posted June 23, 2022

#2

Now is the winter of our decongestant.

49 notes - Posted November 25, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“She’s beautiful,” he said, inspecting her face. “Her eyes have changed color.”

Lyra nodded. “They’re sort of flecked.”

“Stardust,” Galen said. “That’s what’s in her eyes.”

—Catalyst: A Rogue One Novel, by James Luceno

Galen nicknamed Jyn “Stardust” because of her eyes.

Now, I’ve only watched the Andor episodes once, but I couldn’t see any explanation for the astronomical event on Aldhani to be called “The Eye.” It didn’t really resemble an eye to me.

Gorn tells Cassian: "Imagine fifty meteor showers all at once, but like a curtain being pulled across the sky until the Eye, the window to the galaxy, forms over the horizon."

As the old saying goes, “the eyes are the window to the soul,” and "The Eye” is perhaps so named because it is seen as a window to the galaxy.

As far as I can tell, no one in the episodes uses the word “Stardust,” but that is clearly what it looks like and many have drawn the connection.

What reason could there be to have a green and gold astronomical event called “The Eye” other than to reference Jyn’s stardust eyes?

97 notes - Posted October 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #i did cry about my most used tag this year being 'my writing'—that's a first for me and i'm really proud of what i've written #maybe it's silly but i still feel it's a minor miracle that i post anything at all #what with my executive dysfunction and impostor syndrome and rejection sensitive dysphoria—troll brain is an asshole #i have adhd #my writing

[phoenixyfriend]

Auntie ‘Soka and Little Leia (and Rex)

The counterpart to Uncle Ben and Little Luke (Original Post, Chrono)

Listen. You all knew this was coming.

This got... very long and detailed and I’m going to have to clean it up and post to AO3. As in, this was supposed to be 2-3k and is literally ten times that long. It crossed 25k. And the initial section actually glosses over a bunch, actual fic-style writing starts at “That, of course, is when things get interesting.”

Warnings: discussion of various canon traumas (most relating to being child soldiers), general PTSD, several scenes featuring dissociation or panic attacks upon being triggered, and canon-typical violence.

Rated T, gen.

I still want there to be de-aging nonsense involved so Ahsoka is physically a late teenager despite having a solid two decades of field experience behind her (we’re pulling her from Malachor).

Leia, much like Luke, is now six. She just came from being a rebellion general. She is not happy about being a child. She was already short, this is just mean.  She’s a human espresso.

UNLIKE BEN, Ahsoka is not happy about this turn of events. Being seventeen-ish is not helpful in the outer rim. She’s a female togruta, young and healthy, and in the Outer Rim, caring for a small human child. Sure, she has her lightsabers and plenty of combat experience, and she can keep them safe, but she’s just one person, and a major target for those looking to make some quick cash. It doesn’t matter how good she is; she needs sleep at some point.

It makes my heart happy to treat Ahsoka and Rex as two halves of the same black ops specialist so you know what, he’s there too! He’s physically like... 10-12 in natborn, maybe. They’re not sure, because clones age weird. He’s moderately more useful than Leia (who is very competent but also physically six, and short for that age), but he’s still... very small.

Reminder that none of them have been born yet.

Ahsoka has a harder time explaining WHY she has children with her, since she's barely more than a kid herself, and clearly unrelated by species. She sometimes just says “Oh, my adoptive brother’s kids” since it’s kind of the truth for Leia and she’s not touching the actual truth about Rex with a ten foot pole.

Ahsoka definitely knows about Leia being a Skywalker, or at least has suspicions that Bail never outright confirmed but was conspicuously quiet about. She does tell Leia about it, but it’s not like that means anything, right? Just, you know, your dad was my teacher! I don’t have to tell you he became Va--oh shit, you already knew that part. Well, fuck. What do you mean he had a son? OH SHIT, PADME HAD TWINS.

Alt take for explaining why she’s got kids: She’s my foundling, I know her name as my child (Leia shut up!!!)

(Ahsoka can fake Mandalore. Sometimes.)

That said, there is... significantly less gambling and significantly more theft to get to Coruscant.

As previously stated, Ahsoka is a black ops kinda gal, and more importantly, she looks like a fairly attractive young woman in the Outer Rim, with two children in good health. She’s a target, and also not the kind of person one generally gambles with. If she does gamble, people get upset when she doesn’t lose, in ways they don’t get upset about Ben doing the same, because she’s, again, a cute teenage girl. It’s exhausting.

As things go, she largely ends up stealing from people who deserve it and/or smuggling herself and her charges into someone else’s ship. They’re small, they can hide. Sometimes she can get them all passage by working as a mechanic, she’s good at that.

Once they’ve got a handle on when they are, they have to decide on Names. None of them have been born yet, so technically they could use their own names without anyone Knowing. Rex and Leia might not even be born, depending on how successful they are at, you know, stopping the war and everything. Ahsoka, though, she’s going be born in two years, and there’s no reason to prevent it, so... she doesn’t want to steal baby-her’s name. That would be mean.

Leia is already calling her “Auntie ‘Soka” when she can for reasons like “selling the bit” and “manipulating adults” and “making us both feel better after we had a mutual breakdown about Anakin being Vader.” Ergo, she decides that whatever new name she picks better include that in some way, and decides on “Sokari” because it sounds pretty.

Overall, they don’t... they don’t actually make it very far before there’s an Incident. Again, teenager with small children. They spend a lot of time hiding out in space ports looking for an opportunity.

That, of course, is when things get interesting.

Specifically, Ahsoka spots a Mandalorian.

She doesn’t recognize the armor. She does recognize the sigil, and thinks ‘well, they’re more likely to help than some,’ because from what she’s heard, the Haat Mando’ade are Decent People Overall. Her view is a little biased, mostly on account of the sheer level of grudge she has against Kyr’tsad. It’s fine! The True Mandalorians have the same grudge, right? And Mandalorians like kids and Ahsoka hasn’t slept in five days and it’s fine. It’s fine! IT’S FINE.

“Oh shit,” Rex whispers, before she can suggest anything. “Oh fuck.”

“Stop cursing,” Leia hisses, elbowing him. “People are going to notice.”

“That’s the Prime,” Rex panics, mostly quiet. Ahsoka’s heart drops, because fuck is right. “That’s Fett.”

Leia isn’t impressed. Ahsoka just angles herself between Fett and Rex and hopes that he doesn’t see them. That’s just asking for trouble.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is in fact running on none sleep with left trauma, and doesn’t notice Fett walking up and dropping into a seat across from them until he’s actually done so, removing his helmet to glare a little more efficiently.

“Wanna explain why your kid has my face?”

Ahsoka later tells herself that he’s killed Jedi and that’s why he can sneak up on her, and that she can be forgiven some slip-ups with the exhaustion being what it is, and that she’s obviously going to be dealing with some emotional instability in light of the sudden return of teenage hormones and new forms of anxiety that are markedly different from those she was dealing with a few weeks ago.

What Ahsoka wants to say is “that’s kind of a long story,” or “maybe he’s a cousin,” or “kriff off, I don’t know you,” or maybe even “he’s a clone.”

What Ahsoka actually does is burst into tears, which is embarrassing for her, for Fett, for the kids, and for the entire rest of the bar.

It really is the straw that broke the eopie’s back. Even when she was actually this age, she didn’t exactly cry much. Objectively, Fett quasi-aggressively asking a valid question shouldn’t send her into a panic. She’s been through torture and worse. She shouldn’t be crying.

But she is, sobbing her eyes out with no control, and he’s just sitting across from her and looking uncomfortable while Rex wraps his little arms--oh Force he’s so small--around her, and both ‘children’ glare at Fett.

“So, I’m going to take it she didn’t kidnap you from a loving family or do something illicit with a blood sample,” Fett says, after it becomes obvious that Ahsoka’s not going to be ready to talk any time soon.

“She didn’t,” Rex says stiffly, with just the right emphasis for Fett to catch what’s implied. Ahsoka just keeps her head down, eyes pressed against the heels of her palms, trying to get her body to stop rebelling against her.

Fett’s eyes dart to Leia, who folds her arms and draws herself up, every bit the unimpressed princess. “My father claimed her as a sister, so she’s my Auntie ‘Soka.”

The man dithers a bit, the conversation clearly not going where he’d expected. “Right,” he says. “You--you’re all kids. I thought she was a little older, at least, but I didn’t have a good look at her face before.”

She is older, but actually admitting that is only going to make this worse, both for her pride and for her chances of making it out alive.

“Where are you staying?”

“What?” Leia bites out.

“You’re kids, you’re alone, and you’re clearly not okay if you were trying to hide the one with my face as blatantly as you did, and then... whatever this is, when I confronted you,” Fett explains. Ahsoka lifts her head to glare at him, but it’s probably not doing much with the way her eyes are rimmed with red and still wet. “Don’t give me that look, ad’ika, your kids looked as confused and horrified by that as the bartender did. They obviously didn’t think it was normal either.”

Well, kriff you too, Ahsoka thinks.

“And what do you mean by ‘blatantly,’ here?” Leia challenges. It’s adorable, but Ahsoka watched this tiny girl shoot a man last week, and wonders when people are going to start taking that seriously.

“There’s a lot of people in this galaxy, and I don’t exactly have the clearest memory of what I looked like at that age,” Fett says, slow and careful like he thinks they’re dumb. Ahsoka decides to chalk it up as being because Leia’s visibly six. “I would have thought it was just a coincidence if you hadn’t put in effort to hide him.”

Leia huffs, and Rex glares harder. Fett just sighs, like they’re all going to give him grey hairs.

“You can explain whatever the hell’s going on,” Fett says. “I’ll let you stay on my ship, there’s a spare bunk and you’re small.”

“For free?” Rex demands.

“A night on a bunk in exchange for information,” Fett clarifies. “We can negotiate from there.”

Ahsoka takes a few moments, notes that both of the others are waiting on her for the decision, and cringes. She doesn’t feel steady enough to carry that. She has to anyway.

“Rex?” she asks, voice rasping after the breakdown of the past few minutes.

“Yeah?”

“How much?”

He looks up at her, eyes calculating, and grimaces. “We don’t want Order 66. A warning is better, even if we... share information.”

She nods, and turns to Leia. “Any premonitions, princess?”

Leia glowers, cute and furious. “No.”

“No, don’t tell, or no, you aren’t getting any vibes about sharing info one way or the other?”

“The latter,” Leia clarifies, huffy to the last.

“Right,” Ahsoka says, and then just... hesitates. “Fett...”

“You’ve got conditions,” he guesses.

She bares her teeth in what could have, through a squint and perhaps a few drinks, been called an apologetic smile. “Just one, really.”

“Yeah?”

“No hurting, killing, or turning us in for bounties,” she says. “Any of us.”

“You’re children, I wouldn’t.”

She blinks at him, slow and careful. She hesitates. She reaches down, out of sight, sees him stiffen.

She unclips her sabers from her belt and puts them on the table.

His eyes are fixed on the weapons the second they enter his line of sight, and don’t move as he clearly realizes why she made the condition she did.

“I left years ago, because I couldn’t stay without it ruining me,” she says. Still slow. Still careful. She’s so tired. “But if I want to keep Leia safe, I have to get back to Coruscant.”

His eyes finally lift from the sabers, expression blank. “Just her?”

“Rex doesn’t have the same monsters coming after him,” she says. “If it were just me and him, I’d worry less. Leia’s a different kind of target.”

“You’re putting a lot of faith on the table by telling me that,” Fett says, voice flat and toneless. “Considering my occupation.”

“She’s a child,” Ahsoka says, feeling heavy and boneless. “Even with what I was and will be, even with what money you would get from the right buyer, you wouldn’t.”

“There are other risks.”

“There are.”

They stare at each other for too long, probably, and then Fett jerks as Rex kicks him under the table. The boys glare for a moment, and then Rex says, “If she weren’t good, I’d still be a slave to those who grew me.”

Fett blinks, and then nearly growls the word, “What?”

“She freed me,” Rex reiterates. “While I was trying to shoot her.”

Ahsoka lifts a hand and puts it on his far shoulder, pulling him into her side. She doesn’t meet Fett’s eyes again, because part of her is back on Mandalore, dodging her own soldiers and crying out as her family dies across the galaxy.

Fett breathes in. Breathes out. He puts a hand to his head, visibly frustrated. “Fine. A good Jedi kid, and two smaller kids, one of which is apparently in some way mine.”

Rex makes a face, which is fair, but also not helping.

“To the ship,” Ahsoka says, putting her sabers back on her belt and sliding out of the seat. “I’m... I’m Sokari.”

“You already know my name.”

“I do.”

---------------------------

Fett watches her like she’s a predator, which has the benefit of being accurate and slightly flattering. She lets other two take care of most of talking, and then Fett tells her to sleep first, and talk in the morning.

“You’re dead on your feet, jetii,” he snorts. “And that crying jag didn’t do you any favors. Sleep.”

So she does, and Fett doesn’t even wake her. He just lets her sleep. He watches her in the way of a guard. She sees him when she gets up to use the ‘fresher in the middle of the night, but he doesn’t even comment when she collapses right back into the mediocre cot she’s borrowed for the cycle.

Rex and Leia are safe, her hindbrain tells her, even in the depths of sleep. Her mind curls around theirs in the Force, and she trusts that they are here. They are not happy, but they are alive and unharmed, and that has to be enough.

When she stumbles her way to true wakefulness, groggy and loose-limbed, Fett greets her with caf.

“The kids wouldn’t let me near you,” he tells her.

“They’re good,” she says, cupping her hands around the mug. She feels wobbly, in every sense. Her body, her mind, her emotions, her connection to the Force. Nothing is on-kilter right now. “Did they tell you anything?”

“They waited for you,” he says. “But the little miss needed a nap of her own. They’re down in the other bunk.”

“I didn’t notice,” she admits. She should have. She’s Fulcrum. She’s a veteran of the Clone Wars. She’s... she’s supposed to be better than this.

“How long?” he asks, and then when she squints up at him, he clarifies. “How long did you fight?”

“My last fight--”

“No, whatever war you came out of,” he says. Her chest twists cold. “I don’t know if the Jedi sent you into it or if you waded in yourself once you left, but you move like a soldier.”

“I was,” she confirms. “But... but I don’t want to talk about the details. Not until the other two are here.”

He frowns at her. “Is there anything you can talk about?”

She shrugs and looks away, trying to take solace in the warmth of the caff she holds above the table, as if it can hide her, guard her, from the disgraced Mand’alor across the table.

“Jedi?”

“I’m not officially a Jedi,” she says, voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

“Then what do I call you?” he asks. “We’re not exactly close enough for names.”

“Torrent,” she says. “It’s not--I can’t claim my family name anymore. But I can claim Torrent, so I will. And if you want a title, I was a commander.”

“Bit young for that.”

“I got the rank when I was fourteen,” she says, and watches his face do something complicated and unpleasant. “Don’t. I know your own culture puts children on the field that young.”

“Not in command.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, well... the soldiers were technically younger. Adults, but...”

Ahsoka can see the way he casts about to figure out what species grows at that rate. He guesses a few, and she shoots all of it down.

She won’t tell him. Not until Rex is awake.

This part of the story is his.

--------------------------

When Leia tries to sit alone, a foot away on the bench like a proper adult, Ahsoka refuses to let it happen. She pulls the younger girl to her side and quells protests with a glance. It’s a decent skill, but she’s not sure how long it’s going to work on her niece-in-spirit.

“Your body needs the chemical release of skinship,” she says, and Leia glares at her. “I spent way too much time with the boys to not know about this. Deal.”

Rex sits close enough to knock their knees together under the table, and his warmth is the old comfort she needs.

“Do you want the story you’ll believe, or the truth?” Ahsoka asks.

“What’s the difference?”

“One of them involves something so impossible that even most Jedi wouldn’t believe it,” she tells him.

Fett folds his arms and leans forward to rest them on the table, challenging but oddly open. “Try me.”

“Time travel.”

He blinks, just once, fully controlled. “That’s a tough one.”

“There were only three Jedi left alive when I died,” she says. “Or... whatever it is that happened to me. I think I died. All I know is that one moment, I was thirty-two and dying, and the next, I was... seventeen again, and had these two with me. All of us younger than we were. None of us have even been born yet.”

She refuses to look him in the eye. “They both outlived me by... six years, maybe. Got caught up while traveling instead of dying. Leia was twenty-two. Rex was thirty-five. I’m not technically the oldest anymore. I mean, physically I am, but that doesn’t mean anything, and it’s not exactly doing us any good, and--”

Rex bumps his shoulder to her arm. “I dunno, Commander. I’ve spent a long time looking older than I should. Nice to look younger for once.”

She shoots him a small, pained grin. “Could be worse, yeah.”

“Let’s say I believe you.”

Her attention snaps back to Fett, who’s looking damnably blank, and is showing even less in the Force.

He waits a second for her to relax back into her seat.

“Let’s say I believe you,” he repeats. “How’s ‘Rex’ connected to me? What’s so special about Leia there? And what war did you fight in that has you acting like a veteran?”

“Three years in the clone wars,” she whispers, glancing to Rex and forcing herself to not go for her sabers to defend against an attack that her paranoia says is coming and the Force says is not. “Then almost all the Jedi were wiped out at once, and I spent a year... drifting. Then black ops for the next fifteen.”

“Black ops,” he repeats, still damnably flat.

“There was a Sith Empire,” she says, and she can hear her own tone growing somehow emptier. “Glassing planets. Enslaving entire species. Committing genocides all over. Of course, there was a rebellion, and of course I joined it. I was one of the only people left with Jedi training. For all that I’d left the Order, I still had a duty to the universe.”

His eyes flit to Leia, who shrugs and tries to look prim. “I was adopted and raised by one of the founders of the rebellion, a movement built on the desire to instate freedom and democracy in a galaxy that had lost even the pretense.”

“That why you’re special?”

Leia smiles, thin and patronizing. It doesn’t fit on her little face. “I’m special because my biological father was one of the most powerful Force users in history, and his Fall to the dark side and choice to become a Sith is why the Emperor’s rise was nearly uncontested. I do not like power, but it’s in my veins and I can’t change that. Force users are... a lucrative trade, and I’m still the size of a child, so I can’t fight back. I’ll be safer in the Jedi Temple, even if I don’t want to be a Jedi.”

Fett looks to Ahsoka, makes to ask a question, and then shakes his head. Not the time, maybe.

“So, that’s all... very complicated and I don’t know how much of it I believe, but it doesn’t explain...” he trails off, and sighs. “My kid, or whatever you are. I heard you mention clones.”

Rex grins. It is not a kind expression.

“Let me tell you about Kamino.”

---------------------------

Ahsoka has no idea if Fett believes them. Either he thinks they’re telling the truth, or he thinks their delusional kids. Whatever the case, he offers to take them closer to the Core. Ahsoka quietly offers to take a look at his engine in return, and then pretends not to notice when Fett awkwardly drifts to and away from Rex.

“They put chips in our brains to make us kill the Jedi we respected, cared for, even loved. I tried to shoot ‘Soka, Fett. She was seventeen and risked her life to get that chip out of my head while I was trying to kill her. I have never hated myself more than when I woke up and realized what I’d almost done, and I was one of the few that were able to fight it. I heard the stories of dozens of brothers who woke with their chips having degraded and chose to eat their blaster rather than live with the guilt of the orders they’d followed without question because of a thrice-damned Sith slave chip in their head.”

“So no, I won’t call you father or acknowledge you as clan until you do something to prove you’re worth it, shared blood or not.”

What Ahsoka does get out of the arrangement, for all that Fett’s route mostly takes them on a meandering path that isn’t faster than their previous system, is sleep. She gets to rest. She gets to trust that Fett won’t kill Rex, out of guilt for something he hasn’t done, that he won’t kill Leia out of a worry that she’s just a delusional child, a real child, that he won’t kill ‘Sokari’ because it would ruin any chance of gaining Rex’s favor, ever.

She’s not safe, won’t believe she can be until she’s in the Temple and Sidious is dead dead dead, but she’s safer than she’s been in a long time.

Every night, Ahsoka wakes up and stumbles to the little galley, deaths and torture sparkling behind her eyes with the energy of a thousand lost Jedi, ten thousand mourned brothers and sisters.

She is not the only one of their little group to be a survivor of a near-total genocide, but Rex could not feel his brothers die in the Force, even if his nightmares featured what they heard of suicide missions by the emperor’s favored shock troopers, and Leia had... Alderaan had more off-world survivors than there had been Jedi at all.

It’s not worth comparing their pain. It’s stupid to even think it. Part of her can’t help but do it anyway.

“Caf?”

She feels a lek twitch in response to the voice of the only other person on board who can reach the top shelf. “I probably shouldn’t.”

“Whiskey?”

“That’s a definitely shouldn’t.”

“Hoth chocolate?”

“...please.”

She doesn’t lift her head from her arms until the mug clicks down in front of her, ceramic on plastisteel.

“Do I ask what it was this time?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to explain to non-sensitives.”

“Try me anyway.”

Ahsoka twists the Hoth chocolate in her hands, takes a sip as she thinks. “The Force isn’t just one thing. It’s... energy and philosophy and spirit, a sense of being that ties the entire universe together. Sentient and inanimate and living and dead, empty space and lush forests and stifled cities. For those of us who are sensitive to it, it’s possible to feel the life of everyone around you, theoretically possible to feel entire systems. If you have a Force bond, like a master and padawan, that can stretch across planets, even systems if one or both are particularly powerful.

“So just... just imagine, for a moment, what it’s like to feel the screaming of all those Jedi in the Force as their trusted men shot them down.

“Some of them were close enough that I could feel them die,” she manages. “I... it’s horrible. It’s horrific. It’s not something I can ever forget, and I want to. I want to forget what that moment was like. Not that it happened, but...”

She can feel the tears. Fuck..

“You want to dull the edges.”

“Don’t we all?” she asks, scrubbing the back of her hand across her eyes. “Leia lost her entire planet, billions of people, and she was forced to watch. Rex... Force, I can barely imagine, and I was there for most of it.”

Fett watches her, measuring. “From what he said, they were as much your brothers as his, by the end.”

“No,” she immediately denies. “They could have been, maybe, but the ones I was closest to died earlier, and then I left, and by the time the Empire rose, all but a handful were... no. Rex, I will claim as a brother in all the ways that matter, but I don’t get to do that with the rest. I don’t have the right.”

“You’re hard on yourself.”

“Fate of the galaxy, my good bitch. Guess who’s got it on her shoulders.”

He snorts at her, and nods at the mug. “Drink your Hoth chocolate. We’re landing in eight hours, and you’ve got kids to look out for.”

---------------------------

There’s a twitch in the Force when they land, something pulling at her in a way she barely feels. She’s had her shields up so fully for so long that it’s natural to hide away what she is to the point where she can hardly tell what anyone else is, either. It takes more than a moment to remember how to let herself spread out across the world.

“Auntie ‘Soka? Why’d you stop?”

She doesn’t have an answer to Leia’s prodding question. “I don’t know.”

It’s almost familiar. Old and half-forgotten, not the same as what she remembers, but--

“This way,” she says, and wanders off into the crowd. Leia and Rex follow without question. Fett curses and rushes through the rest of his transaction with the docking attendant. The sound of him jogging after them is almost funny, with the armor, but she can’t focus on that.

Ahsoka slips between people with the ease of a career built on such a habit, children trailing like ducklings. She knows this feeling, she knows this person, what is she missi--

“Oh,” she breathes, going stock still. She knows that face. She knows those braids. She even knows the presence.

Younger than Ahsoka had ever seen her, but unmistakably Master Billaba.

“Torrent, what the hell?” Fett demands, finally catching up. “You can’t just run off like that!”

“It’s Depa,” she says, eyes still fixed on the woman parsing through a datapad with an irritated vendor. She has a padawan braid. It doesn’t feel like Master Windu is on-planet, so this might be a solo mission, a... oh. Senior Padawan, Knight Elect. This is the kind of mission taken to test if she’s ready to be promoted.

Ahsoka feels light-headed.

Fett waits for her to elaborate, but she can’t. This was Kanan’s master. This was a member of the High Council. This was a woman who died and--

“You need to sit down,” Fett says, not a touch gruff. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her off the main walkway. “I’m... going to talk to the woman in the Jedi robes. You three just stay there and don’t get kidnapped.”

Ahsoka nods, feeling like she’s not quite inhabiting her own body.

It’s Depa.

Her eyes track Fett without conscious control, and her montrals pick up the sound.

Depa looks up when the armor comes close enough, free hand tensed in a way that says she’s preventing herself from reaching for a saber in reaction to the heavily-armored individual standing several feet away.

“Mando,” the woman says. “May I help you?”

“Are you Depa?”

Depa doesn’t do anything so dramatic as gape or step back, but she does blink rapidly for a moment. She then folds her hands down in front of her, drawing her spine up ramrod straight. “I am Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, yes. May I ask why it is that you need to know?”

Ahsoka imagines Fett grimacing, or rolling his eyes, or maybe dithering. She can’t tell from this angle, and he has a helmet on besides. It turns his awkward silences into judgmental ones.

“I’ve had some Jedi kids on my ship, hitching a ride,” he says at length. “One of them recognized you and then just... froze.”

“You have our younglings in your care,” Depa says, carefully not accusatory, but close enough to be a warning.

“Not quite,” he says. “The one that actually came from the temple is seventeen. One of ‘em isn’t Force Sensitive, and the last one is but hasn’t been to Coruscant before. They’re trying to get the little one to the Temple for her own safety.”

Depa considers that, and then passes the datapad to the vendor. “Lead on.”

It’s surprisingly simple, really. Fett did all the talking.

And then Depa is standing right in front of her.

“Like I said,” Fett sighs. “She froze up.”

“Hello,” Depa says, hands laced together inside her sleeves. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”

Ahsoka shakes her head. “I know of you. I’ve seen you spar. You’ve never spoken to me.”

All true. A little misleading, but it’s fine, it’s all fine.

Depa waits a moment, and then says, “You seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

“Sokari T-Torrent,” she manages. The words feel clunky in her mouth, the sound abrasive for all that it’s just her own voice, no different from usual. A little shaky, maybe. She can feel a cool breeze on her upper arms. Shouldn’t she have armor? She should have armor. “It... it’s been a long time since I’ve seen another Jedi. I’m having a hard time believing you’re real.”

“I see,” Depa says. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere more private? You seem a little unsteady.”

Ahsoka lets herself be led back to the ship, in the company of Mand’alor Jango Fett, Jedi Padawan Depa Billaba, Princess-General Leia Organa, and good old Captain Rex.

It’s like the start of a sick joke.

---------------------------

Fett and Depa talk where she can hear, but they rarely address her directly. Both seem to realize that she’s not particularly useful right now. Leia and Rex are pressing up against her at the little table in the galley, and Ahsoka lets them.

This is real. She can feel Depa in the Force, recognizes her energy even if it’s not quite what it will-was-could-have-been. This is happening.

It’s a textbook Traumatic Stress Response case, one of them says.

Fett has his helmet off. Ahsoka’s sure that’s wrong for some reason. She thinks he might already be on wanted lists. Should she worry about Depa trying to arrest him?

Depa asks about Rex at one point. Fett tells her that someone cloned him without his knowing, but the kid is more comfortable with Ahsoka so they’re still working on what that means for him.

It’s more or less true. Rex squeezes her hand the one time someone suggests separating them. She’s not letting that happen unless Rex wants to leave for whatever reason. They’ve worked apart before. They can do it again.

“Auntie Soka? You’re shivering.”

Is she?

Leia cuddles in closer, and Ahsoka runs a hand over her hair. It’s an absentminded motion, and for all that she knows Leia’s hair is fine as silk, it feels like plastic in the moment.

“I don’t think I’m okay,” Ahsoka announces. The words hang in the air like lead balloons, and she can feel Depa staring at her. “I haven’t been for a very long time.”

“Yeah, we noticed,” Fett says. “Do you need to lay down, Torrent?”

Does she?

“No,” she says. “I... I don’t know what I need.”

“The spicy drink,” Rex tells them. “It’s grounding.”

Right. That.

Fett goes to grab it, and Depa continues to watch.

“How long ago did you leave your master?” Depa asks. “Or... did he die?”

Ahsoka closes her eyes and shakes her head. She can feel the shivers now, tremors in her biceps and a shudder she can’t control in the height of her ribcage. Her teeth grind together, jaw like stone.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Depa assures her. “I’m... going to recommend you see a mind healer on Coruscant.”

That was a forgone conclusion.

A cup clinks onto the table. Fett’s back. “Drink.”

She does.

Depa and Fett continue discussing it as “the adults” at the table. She’s older than both of them. Rex is older than all of them. Ahsoka follows about half of what they say. She agrees with most of it. Rex bullies his way into speaking when she doesn’t, without her even asking, because he knows her mind as well as she does. Fett rolls with it. Depa lets him.

She’s going to reach out to the Temple and see about getting them a ride back to Imperial Center Coruscant.

Fett makes Soka go to bed, taking Leia with her.

---------------------------

She feels more like a person come morning.

Depa’s sitting at the table, datapad in her hands and caff on the table in front of her.

“Good morning,” Ahsoka says, rough and croaking, and Depa’s eyes flick up to meet hers. She nods a shallow hello.

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” Ahsoka says, and goes about gathering a breakfast. There’s definitely some dried meat in here. She can get something fresh when they stop by the market later.

“I was hoping to speak with you about your options,” Depa tells her, once she’s sat at the table. “Fett and your friend Rex took care of most of the negotiation, and I feel like I have an idea of what would work best for you.”

Ahsoka nods slowly. “Okay.”

“There is a Master-Padawan pair a few planets away,” Depa says. “The Council informed me when I spoke with them about you and your wards. They’d be headed back to the Temple in a few days anyway, and the Council has agreed to extend an offer to Fett to handle the transportation. The presence of a Jedi Master on board will allow for him to get in and out of the Core unmolested, and we’d like for you and yours to have a Jedi escort, given what happened yesterday afternoon.”

Her complete spiral into nonbeing?

“I understand,” she says instead. “I suppose Fett agreed because he’s still trying to get Rex to like him?”

Depa shrugs. “That part isn’t my business.”

Of course it isn’t.

“Rex can stay with me for a while, right?” Ahsoka finally asks. “I know it’s not exactly protocol, but I’m...”

“In need of a support system until you’ve seen a mind healer, and against all odds, the child is part of it,” Depa summarizes. “Yes, I recognized as much. I think the Council will be able to allow some leeway there. I don’t know if he’ll enjoy it, given that all the others his age are Initiates, but we can adjust as necessary. On that note... Do you know Leia’s midichlorian count?”

“No,” Ahsoka says, and hesitantly adds, “But her biological father was my Jedi Master, and I’m told his count broke records even as a child. Given what Leia’s shown so far... it’s why I’ve been in a hurry to get her to the Temple.”

Depa frowns at her, clearly working through the implications of a Jedi having a daughter and still teaching... and then visibly dismisses the situation, eyes closing to breathe in the steam of her caff.

Biological father certainly implies a child that was raised by her mother or adopted out so the Jedi father could remain in their chosen career without a conflict of interest or duty.

She’ll tell the council the truth, or... at least Master Koon. Master Kenobi is still a padawan, but she can tell Master Koon.

She already told Jango Fett, of all people.

“Padawan Torrent?”

Her head snaps up. She hasn’t been a padawan in over fifteen years. It’s weird to hear. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I asked if you wanted some time to think it over before I presented the offer to Fett,” Depa says.

Ahsoka gets the distinct feeling that Depa is planning a report to the Council that has ‘needs a mind healer’ underlined at least three times.

“No, I’m--I’m fine. That sounds like a good plan.”

“I’ll speak with him, then. Would you like to come with?”

"No, thank you.”

---------------------------

Fett agrees. Ahsoka’s pretty sure it’s all to do with Rex and maybe Leia. It’s probably nothing to do with ‘Sokari.’ She’s a Jedi, an adult in mind and in body, or at least close enough to count. She’s a damn sight more ‘enemy’ to Fett than the other two are. Not as much as Depa, maybe, but Fett’s been playing nice with her for Leia’s sake.

He plays nice with Ahsoka for Rex’s. That’s all.

They’re only a few planets over from the meeting point, and they have a few days to hang around before the escort meets them. Depa hadn’t given them a name--apparently it could have compromised the opsec for the Jedi team--but Ahsoka’s pretty sure she’ll be able to identify almost anyone. She gets the feeling that the Force is going to send her a familiar face, just as it did Master Padawan Billaba.

Ahsoka lets herself feel the world around her. It’s dark and dreary, in the sense that the beaten-down port is full of petty crimes and less petty horrors, but it’s still lighter than most of the Empire had been. She sneaks away from the ship at night, ignoring Fett at her back, and performs a bit of vigilante justice while she can. She’ll be banned from doing so as soon as she’s reinstated as a Jedi, probably, but for now... for now, she can look at the drug cartels and ‘they’re not slaves, really’ workers and do something to help.

She doesn’t use her sabers. She doesn’t need to. It’s been a long time since she has, for small fry like these.

“What are you doing?” Fett asks her, landing heavily behind her back.

“Chip removal,” she says, hand pressed to the slave’s leg. Her eyes are closed, but she can hear him shifting. “Let me concentrate, I don’t have a meddroid for this.”

He’s silent until she finishes, and waits until the people she’s helped are on their way to the planet’s freedom routes. He doesn’t ask what she did with the owners.

“You’ve done this before.”

“Regularly,” she confirms. “You?”

He doesn’t answer that, just ambles over to the the chains and stares down at them.

“Fett?”

“You go through this like it’s as easy as breathing,” he says. “It’s... impressive.”

“I guess?” she hesitates to continue. “I’m... I don’t think of it that way. This is the easy stuff. A time-waster that helps people. If I wanted to help for real, I’d been going after Jabba or Sidious or--”

“How old were you?” he asks, turning on his heel to face her dead-on. The vocoder of his helmet pulls the emotion from his voice. “When did this... these missions, the slavery battles, when did that start for you?”

“Fourteen,” she says. She’s not entirely sure, really, what counted as a mission for ending slavery and what counted as just a part of war, but she can round down. “Maybe fifteen. It’s a bit of a blur.”

“And you just kept doing it.”

“Of course,” she says. “If I have the time and the energy, if I need to do something and there’s nothing official on my hands, why not?”

He doesn’t answer her.

---------------------------

Rex greets them before she does.

Ahsoka, in her defense, is asleep at the time. It’s a restless sleep, but it’s enough that she doesn’t sense the nearing Force signatures until they’re almost at the ship.

She recognizes one of them.

“Auntie ‘Soka?” Leia questions, when she lurches to her feet and starts pulling on her boots with all the energy of a zombie. “Where are you going?”

“Jedi,” Ahsoka grunts. “Here.”

“I see.”

Leia dresses to follow her, in a little coat that’ll withstand the chill of the outside air, and Ahsoka makes it to the cargo hold just in time to hear Rex saying, “I’m not shaking your hand until you put your gloves on, Vos.”

She laughs to herself, breathless with the knowledge of what she’s about to find. She jumps the railing of the upper walkway, drops down just in front of the Master-Padawan team, and keeps her back to Fett and Rex. “Hello, there.”

One human, one Kiffar. She knows the latter.

“Would you be Sokari Torrent?” the Master asks.

“I am,” she says, with a slight bow. She can tell there’s a bit of judgement for how she’s dressed, but they’re covering it well. A Shadow and his trainee know the value of armor better than most Jedi bother with. “I’m afraid Padawan Billaba didn’t inform me of your names before we met.”

“And yet your friend knew my padawan,” the Master says.

“By reputation,” she says, as smoothly as she can. “I’ve encountered Quinlan Vos before, though I doubt he remembers--”

“I’d remember someone like you,” Quinlan interrupts, with a grin she’s sure is meant to be charming and rogueish.

He’s... very young for her, and not her type. Mostly, she wants to pat him on the head, but that probably wouldn’t go over very well. She still looks like she’s younger than him.

“Anyway,” she says, turning back to the master, “I’m afraid I still don’t know who you are, Master.”

“I am Tholme,” he says, with the bow that a Master gives a Padawan. She feels a little slighted, but it’s fine. She looks the right age, it’s fine.

It’s not like they know.

“It’s nice to meet you, Master Tholme,” she says. “My charges are Rex Torrent, the young man behind me, and currently coming down the ladder is Leia Antilles. I’m sure you’re aware of Jango Fett.”

“The Mand’alor,” Quinlan volunteers, and Ahsoka can almost hear Fett’s teeth grinding.

“Don’t call me that,” he says. She’s sure he’s got a hand drifting for his blaster.

“There isn’t a whole lot of room on the ship,” she says before the men can get into whatever weird contest she’s sure someone might start. Her bet’s on Fett. “But Leia and Rex are small enough to share with me, so I’m sure we can make it work.”

“There’s spare rolls for anyone comfortable with sleeping in the hold,” Fett grunts. “Or on the floor in the passenger room.”

“Well, I guess I could ask for a little help fi--”

“Vos,” Ahsoka snaps, letting her voice take on the kind of ‘obey me or get fresher duty’ irritation that she’d perfected back when the rebellion still had her managing people, before they’d realized she was more use in the field. “Do not.”

There’s a moment’s pause, and Tholme looks unimpressed with that raised eyebrow, but the kind of unimpressed that’s split between his own padawan and the stranger before him.

“Um,” Quinlan says. “I just--”

“No,” she cuts him off. “No flirting.”

It’s weird and uncomfortable and she’d have maybe been okay with it if she was actually the seventeen-or-eighteen-ish(?) that she looked, but she’s not. She’s in her thirties and Vos is... what, twenty? Twenty-one? No.

He stares at her, and she wonders momentarily if she’d gone too far in the direction of judging his intentions in the Force and preempted actual flirtations.

“I’m sorry?” He offers, looking confused, but ashamed. “I, uh, I’ll keep that in mind.”

She definitely preempted the actual flirtation.

Fuck.

Ahsoka closes her eyes and breathes in. Breathes out. Opens her eyes. “Right. That was... I’m not sure how much Padawan Billaba told you about me.”

“Enough,” Tholme says. He moves forward and puts a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. Ahsoka has no idea if it’s to comfort him or hold him back. “I didn’t share most of it with my padawan, but I have a general understanding of what’s going on.”

Quinlan darts a look at his teacher, but Ahsoka doesn’t acknowledge it. It’s fine. Everything is fine.

“Thank you for your understanding,” she says, and bows, and stiffly turns away to walk to the galley.

---------------------------

Leia squirms into the bench seat, shoving her way under Ahsoka’s arm like a particularly wriggly tooka.

“What was that?” Leia demands, the authority of a rebellion general rather useless in the squeaky voice of a child.

“What was what?”

“The whole thing with Padawan Vos,” Leia says. “You blew up at him before he even did anything.”

That’s pretty true.

“I felt the flirtation coming before it happened and reacted inappropriately because I panicked. I’m significantly older than him, but I can’t tell him that, so it’s just awkward and uncomfortable and... I’m not okay, Princess. I haven’t been for a long time.”

“Yeah, we can tell.”

“Leia.”

“What? I need therapy too! Captain Rex needs therapy! I’m pretty sure Fett needs therapy! You, Fulcrum, you really need therapy. None of us are okay.” She huffs, wiggling impossibly closer. “I don’t like it, but it’s true.”

“I know,” Ahsoka groans. “I just... I just need to hold out until the Temple.”

“Will you be able to hold it together if you see someone you actually care about?” Leia demands. “What are you going to do when you see Kenobi?”

“Stop.”

“I’m serious, you--”

“Leia, that’s enough,” she snaps. “I was fighting that war before you were even born, and I’ve dealt with the consequences since. I know the risks and I’ll thank you to remember who taught you to control your own mind.”

Leia stiffens, sucking in a sharp breath. “That was uncalled for.”

“You’re not the child you appear to be,” Ahsoka reminds her, not a little sharply. “You want to dish it out, be ready to take it. What will you do when we see Bail Organa? When we see the toddler that is Anakin Skywalker?”

“I get it.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Ahsoka mutters. She isn’t surprised when Leia ducks out of the embrace and leaves the galley. She lets the girl go, guilt warring with the memory of how Master Kenobi had more than once spoken that way to Anakin at the height of the war. The fact that she’s an adult in the body of a child isn’t an excuse for poking at Ahsoka’s open wounds. It was cruel and unnecessary, and unbecoming of a... not a Jedi. A princess. A politician.

She rests her head on her arms and zones out. She should meditate, but that seems like... too much effort.

She can feel Vos and Tholme setting up in the room they’ve been assigned. Neither seems particularly angry. Most likely, Tholme’s given the absolute shortest explanation of ‘child soldier, dead master, highly traumatized and emotionally unstable’ to Vos to smooth over the incident in the cargo hold. Rex is with Leia; he’s agitated, but less so than Leia herself. Fett’s annoyed, in the cockpit, but he seems annoyed as often as not. There’s a shudder at lift-off, and a few minutes later, they’re in hyperspace, headed for the Core.

Fett finds her, falls into the other bench in full armor, and drops his elbows onto the table. The helmet clunks down a moment later.

She doesn’t lift her head. “What do you want?”

“Do I need to keep Vos away from you?”

“What?”

“Vos. He made you uncomfortable. Was that him being someone that hurt you in the future, or just the interaction being awkward?”

She lifts her head. She stares at him. “What?”

He leans back and crosses his arms. “Do you need me to tell Vos to stay the hell away from you?”

She’s gaping. “You realize I’m thirty-two, right? I can handle my own battles.”

“You’re also traumatized as hell and everyone can see it,” Fett argues back. “If Vos himself is a trigger, I can handle it.”

“He’s not,” she tells him. This is strange. Fett’s being strange. “He was actually a friend of my grandmaster’s. I’m just uncomfortable with the flirting because I’m a lot older than he realizes, and I can’t tell him that.”

He nods sharply, and then looks away. The silence sits.

“Thanks for asking?” Ahsoka says, well aware of how her confusion over the offer turns it into a question. “I mean, thank you for... caring.”

I guess, she finishes in the privacy of her own head. Or at least pretending to.

Fett makes a face, still not facing her. He eyes the galley instead. She can guess where his thoughts are going. The galley is... not very big, especially with six people on board instead of one, but she’s sure they’ve stocked up enough. On the off chance they do go through more than expected, because of how many growing bodies are in residence, they can stop off and buy more. They have those resources now.

Jango never does ask what she did with the slavers.

“Who’s going to cry if I spice things properly?” he asks.

“Probably Leia,” she says immediately. “Vos will try to power through it even though he’s going to be overwhelmed. No idea about Tholme, but I think he’ll keep a straight face whether he likes it or not. Rex and I are fine, ‘hot’ was pretty much the only flavor of seasoning the GAR had.”

“GAR?”

“Grand Army of the Republic.”

He finally looks at her.

“You already knew I was a child soldier, Fett; don’t act surprised.”

“That doesn’t mean I like hearing about it.”

“I was fourteen. That’s old enough by Mando standards, Fett. Just think back, when did you get on the battlefield?”

“I take your point,” he says, lip curling unpleasantly. “It just hits different now that I’m old enough to look back and think of how damned young fourteen really is.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Yeah, well--”

“You said the clones were ten.”

There’s the rub, isn’t it?

Of course it was about the clones.

“...closer to seven, by the end. Kamino was just making speedies at that point. Triple growth on the average instead of double, but averages in that case meant they’d been growing at double rates for six years and then got forced through four growth cycles in a single year to beef up the army when we kept losing men.” She looks down at the table, picking at a scratch in the plastipaint with her nail. “Rex and the rest of the ones from the beginning were basically twenty in mind and body, even if they’d only been decanted ten years earlier. The speedies... I always wondered. They’d gone from functionally twelve to functionally twenty in a year. That’s not... even in Kamino, that can’t have been normal. They didn’t act like adults, not the way the originals did.”

Fett rubs at his face, groaning. He swears under his breath in three different languages.

She pities him, if only because he hasn’t actually done any of this yet. He’s paying for the crimes of a man he likely won’t ever become.

She kicks him under the table. “Wanna make tiingilar and see how long it takes Vos to start crying while he insists it’s fine?”

---------------------------

Dinner is when the questions start. Some are relatively easy. Others, not so much.

“My Master was Leia’s biological father,” is an easy truth to share. “She inherited his power, so I need to get her to the temple for her own safety, because home no longer is.”

“Yes, her adoptive parents were unfortunately killed rather recently. We’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Rex is with me. Where he goes, I go, and vice versa.”

That one gets her an odd look.

“I thought...” Quinlan trails off, gesturing between Rex and Fett.

Fett keeps his face impassive, but his discomfort and guilt leak into the Force. “I didn’t know Rex existed until I ran into these three in a spaceport cantina a few weeks ago.”

Quinlan blinks at him, looks at Rex again, and then turns back to Fett with a grin that might have been described as ‘saucy’ if he were less smug about it. “Wild oats, huh?”

“Are you shitting me right now,” Leia whispers, and Ahsoka elbows her.

“That was inappropriate, padawan.”

Quinlan’s grin fades as Fett just continues to eye him.

“Um, so--”

“How old is the kid?” Fett interrupts.

Darting eyes answer him, as Quinlan tries to gauge Rex. “Ten? Maybe twelve?”

“And how old am I?”

“...early thirties?”

“I’m twenty-seven.”

Quinlan’s grin fades further as he does the math.

“I’d have been between fifteen and seventeen when he was born,” Fett says, tone flat. “Between fourteen and sixteen at conception. I know damn well I wasn’t doing anything that could have resulted in a kid at that age.”

Quinlan rallies. “So, brothers?”

Tholme sighs loudly, hand over his eyes.

“I’m a clone,” Rex says, and Ahsoka can feel the amusement he gets out of Quinlan’s confused shock. They’d both had plenty of respect for Master Vos, but Padawan Vos was nothing but trouble. “Harvested genetic material, grown in a tube, inconsistent aging meaning I don’t even know how old I am for sure.”

“I broke him out,” Ahsoka adds, which is half true.

“There was a chip in my head,” Rex adds, with a bright smile. Quinlan’s discomfort grows. “She got it out. Also, lots of brothers. None of them are... around anymore. The creators were trying to make an army.”

Vos and Tholme have no response. Fett looks like he’s been carved out of stone. Leia’s just ignoring them and picking at her food.

Ahsoka lifts a hand and, without looking, Rex high-fives her.

---------------------------

“Drop your elbow.”

Ahsoka tries to cover her smile at the dirty look that Leia shoots Fett. Fett remains unimpressed by the glare of royalty, just gestures for the girl to do as he said.

“I know how to fight,” Leia grumbles. “I took lessons. I was good at them.”

“And I’m better,” Fett says, leaving no room for argument. “You want the Torrents to take over?”

The Torrents. Rex and Soka. She likes being referred to that way. Like they’re a team that never got split up.

Force, she wished they’d never gotten split up.

“Again,” Fett orders, and Leia moves through the Mandalorian kata with ill grace in her emotions and all grace in her sweeping limbs.

Well, as much grace as an undersized six-year-old can, at any rate.

“Think he’ll ask me to spar her again?” Rex asks, dropping down into the seat next to Ahsoka and passing her a drink.

“Maybe,” she acknowledges. “I think he’s wondering if it’s worth asking Vos to spar with her, so she gets more experience with size differences.”

“Hm?”

“She flinched at his face again,” she tells him. “The whole... thing with Boba, I guess. She still won’t tell me why Fett triggers her sometimes, but he’s not pressing her to spar with him, and there’s only so much she can get out of fighting me. Asking Tholme would be presumptuous, but Vos is just a padawan. I think it’d work out.”

“And you?”

She looks at him, already feeling a cresting wave of bullshit she doesn’t want to deal with. “What about me?”

“Are you going to spar with the Jedi?”

She should. She hasn’t sparred with a saber since she got tossed back into a body only half-familiar to her. She’s let Leia borrow the shorter one to learn some basic blocking moves, Shii-Cho and then, with hesitance, the first Soresu form. Another time, she loaned it to Rex to practice some attacks; they both know that the next time he picks up her saber in battle, having lost his weapons or she her grip, it will be neither the first or last time he wields a sword of light. None of that, however, is... sparring.

None of that is against someone who knows what they’re doing.

How long has it been since she sparred with anyone other than Kanan and Ezra?

How long has it been since she sparred without the looming specter of Darth Vader in the back of her mind, without fear of the Inquisitors, without the knowledge that any saber held by someone other than her two friends would be red as blood and twice as drenched.

Would she be able to hold back as she fought?

“I should,” she acknowledges, eyes on where Fett is nudging Leia’s feet into position for some kind of leveraging flip. She’s so small. “It would probably be a good idea to spar against a master at some point.”

“Do you think you can?” Rex asks.

“I never knew him,” she says. “And he isn’t Dark. It should be fine.”

Rex nods, taking her word for it. They watch as Leia stumbles on a final move, and Fett gestures for her to sit down and get a drink.

“That man is a terror,” she informs them.

(She’d once described him as a slave-driver. She had not made that mistake twice.)

“Least it’s not Kamino!” Rex tells her cheerfully. When Leia refuses to look impressed, he laughs at her.

Ahsoka has a half-second’s warning before heavy boots thud to the ground next to her. “What’s Kamino?”

“Hello, Vos, it’s nice to see you too,” she drawls. “I’m good, thanks for asking, and yourself?”

The boy-not-quite-man rolls his eyes. “Hi, Torrents; hi, tiny one.”

Leia glares at him next.

“So, Kamino?”

“Planet by Rishi,” Rex says.

“Why were you there?”

“They specialize in cloning.”

Ahsoka covers her mouth as the conversation drops into the same awkward gap that always happens when Quinlan stumbles into a subject he didn’t know to avoid.

“Like... you were made there, or you were researching how it works for your own--”

Ahsoka slaps a hand over his mouth. “Now’s a great time to stop talking.”

He licks her palm.

She bares her teeth and arches her fingers just enough to press nails into his cheek.

He bites at her palm, and she yanks her hand away.

“You’re all children,” Leia accuses, conveniently forgetting that Ahsoka and Rex are both over a decade older than her.

“I can throw you the length of a swimming pool,” Ahsoka tells her. “One of the fancy competition-ready ones that would make a Tatooinian cry. You are absolutely the child here.”

“Using the Force is cheating, sir,” Rex informs her.

“Only if there’s a competition,” Ahsoka shoots back. “And proving that a certain princess is a small child is not a competition. It’s a declarative fact.”

“I’m going to rip open the seams on all your tops except the ugliest one,” Leia decides.

“Try me,” Ahsoka challenges. “Adi’ka.”

A low, rough cough interrupts them. “Are you done?”

Fett has his arms crossed, and an eyebrow raised. He knows they’re all adults here, and is entirely unamused. As the silence drags, the eyebrow climbs a little higher.

“Done with what?” Quinlan finally asks, thereby volunteering himself to spar in hand-to-hand with Jango Fett, as one does.

“Poor, poor Vos,” Rex laughs, watching as Fett barks out orders at Quinlan every five seconds to fix his footwork, to stop dropping his guard, to stop wasting energy on flips instead of just dodging the easy way.

“Throw him!” Ahsoka calls. To her delight, Fett obliges.

The thing is, Quinlan isn’t bad at brawling. He’s got training, endurance, skill. The man knows what he’s doing, objectively. He’s just not a match for Fett, and is used enough to relying on his saber that his hand-to-hand skills are rusty. They are perhaps less rusty than those Jedi who don’t take questionable jobs in the Mid-Outer Rim, and Ahsoka’s got a suspicion that Vos regularly gets into bar fights in his downtime, but none of that is enough for him to actually do more than survive against Fett without his saber.

Even the saber wouldn’t help, if Fett had his armor.

“Whose idea was this?”

Ahsoka cranes her head back and smiles. “Hello, Master Tholme. Vos... volunteered.”

“Did he know he was volunteering?”

“No comment.”

Tholme snorts, crossing his arms and eyeing the spar in front of him. “I thought Fett hated Jedi. Giving us a ride for the sake of you three is one thing, but why is he teaching my padawan?”

Ahsoka shrugs. “Constructive bullying?”

There’s a small twitch of a smile, quickly gone. “He said something wrong, I’m guessing?”

“There was no way he could have known,” she dismisses. “We’re just, like, ninety-percent tragic backstories.”

“You’d think the Force would warn him,” Rex notes.

“That’s not how the Force works,” Leia chides.

“No, no, he’s right,” Ahsoka corrects. “The Force does sometimes step in to stop a person from saying something stupid. However, Padawan Vos is at an age where people think they are very rational while being more irrational than they likely ever will be again.”

“Do I want to ask what you were doing at that age?” Tholme asks.

“Running bla...” she trails off, then whips around to gape at him.

He smiles, bland and unassuming. “Does Fett know?”

“Know... what?” Ahsoka asks.

“That you’re significantly older than you look,” he says, voice just low enough that the sparring duo can’t hear him. “All three of you.”

Ahsoka turns back to the spar, only catching Tholme out of the corner of her eye. “He knows.”

“Mm. Were you planning on telling the Council?”

“Yes.” That part was never in question. “How did you figure it out?”

“I am a good investigator,” he says. “And you rely a little too heavily on your physical forms to obfuscate. Were it just one of you, that wouldn’t be a problem, but the pattern repeated across three is a little easier to discern.”

“I hoped the whole ‘child soldiers’ thing would be a bigger distraction,” Ahsoka mutters. She glances at Leia and Rex. Both of them are used to being in charge to some degree, giving orders and making contingency plans, but in this... in this, Ahsoka is in charge. They’d decided that at the very start. It didn’t matter that Rex had lived longer and had more experience, or that Leia had held the highest Rebellion rank of the three of them. Ahsoka had been agreed as leader, and they were relying on her.

They’re waiting on her orders. Stiff and unhappy, in Leia’s case, but they trust her.

“Will you be telling Vos?” She asks.

“No,” Tholme says. “Your secrets remain your own unless they endanger us, and I’ve a feeling they won’t be.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Rex jokes, smile not reaching his eyes. “I’ve been working with this family for too long to trust that trouble won’t find them around the next corner.”

“This family?” Tholme repeats.

“Sokari was telling the truth about her master being Leia’s biological father,” Rex says. He shrugs. “I worked with him, with his wife, with both of his kids, with his master and his padawan. All of them, to a one, are trouble magnets.”

“Ah, but that’s not the secret that’s putting us in danger,” Tholme points out. “Simply existence as a Jedi.”

Rex shrugs. “Fair enough. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.”

Ahsoka lurches to her feet, turning with a smile and dancing backward into the the stretch of empty cargo hold they used for such things. “A spar, Master Tholme?”

He looks past her, to Quinlan, and raises a brow. “Would you not prefer to spar with someone a little closer to your level first?”

She barks out a laugh. “Master Tholme, I’m afraid I’ve spent more of my life fighting to survive than having normal friendly spars. My style is more lethal than the average, and you’ve already seen what war’s done to my mind. I ask to spar with you because, if I lose control, if I slip in time or react on an instinct that isn’t appropriate, I trust that you’ll be more able to stop me than a senior padawan.”

He smiles. “Yes, I gathered as much. Still, better to ask. Shall we wait for them to finish up?”

Ahsoka shrugs, turns, and yells. “Clear the deck!”

Rex snorts behind her, and lowly mutters, “Sir, yes, sir.”

She smirks at him over her shoulder. “At ease, Captain.”

“That’s ‘Commander’ to you, I got promoted,” he sniffs, chin held high.

Heavy steps herald Fett’s arrival at their little group. “The hells are you doing?”

“I’m going to have a spar with a Jedi Master, and I want you and Vos to not get stabbed.”

“I’m not that easy to injure in an actual fight, let alone by accident,” Fett grouses. He looks up and over at Vos, who is already significantly taller, if a fair shot less built. “This one, on the other hand...”

“Hey!”

Ahsoka laughs and backs into the center of the cargo hold, drawing her sabers. “Don’t worry, Vos, I won’t play dirty. You’ll probably get your master back in one piece.”

He wrinkles his nose at her. “Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you? He’s a Jedi Master and former Watchman. You’re... what, eighteen?”

Ahsoka raises a brow and activates her sabers, tapping the blades together and watching as more than one person winces. “Wanna bet on how long I last?”

“No,” he says immediately, stepping back to join Rex on the bench. “You’ve already blindsided me enough. I’m not dumb enough to fall for whatever you’ve got up your sleeve.”

“I don’t have sleeves.”

“Armwarmers-slash-greaves, then.”

“Greaves go on the legs, these are vambraces.”

He throws his hands up in the air. “I’m just going to stop talking now!”

“Good plan,” Leia snarks, and then literally hisses when Rex ruffles her hair.

Tholme lights his saber and sinks into an opening stance.

Ahsoka mirrors him.

---------------------------

She wins, but barely. She's had a few weeks to practice her forms, has sparred hands-only with Rex and Fett, but this is her first real try at using her sabers against a person, instead of a blaster or thin air, since she arrived in the past. She’s only mostly adjusted to her body.

But Tholme is a healer and a watchman, not a duelist. Ahsoka held her own against Ventress, against Grievous, against Maul when she was this age. Still adjusting to her body or not, her lineage is one of battle, and it bled true.

“You’re terrifying,” Quinlan tells her after they’re done, smiling like the sun as he hands her a towel. “Please never turn that on me.”

She laughs at him. “Would you believe that I’m out of practice?”

“Out of practice with what?” he asks, horrified and fascinated. “Fighting Sith Lords?”

“Among other things,” she says, and smirks when he chokes on his drink. “Multiple darkside users who claimed to be Sith, at least. One being a full Lord, one that was disowned by his master, and one that was apprenticed to a Banite apprentice, so she wasn’t technically allowed to be a Darth because of the rule of two.”

Tholme meets her eyes past Quinlan’s shoulder, head tilted and eyes half-shut in consideration. He’s taking her seriously. He knows what she’s not saying.

“How...” Quinlan trails off and shakes his head. “You know what, no. Asking you people questions never ends well.”

“Good plan,” Ahsoka says, clapping a hand down on his shoulder. “Also, you need to spar with Fett more. Your footwork is shit.”

“It is not,” Quinlan gripes. “You’re all just scary good at this stuff.”

“You mean surviving?” Leia pipes up, and smiles innocently when Quinlan turns to pout at her.

“You’re getting bullied by a six-year-old,” Rex informs him.

“Yeah,” Quinlan sighs. “I know.”

Ahsoka laughs, and it’s fine. It’s all fine. For a week, everything is honestly great. She trains, she laughs, she works through the nightmares.

Then fucking Denon happens.

---------------------------

Denon is a city-planet on the intersection of two major hyperlanes. It’s the kind of place where they stop for two things:

Fuel.

Paperwork.

Technically, there’s a whole mess of paperwork they have to fill out to continue along this specific hyperlane, since they aren’t official Republic ships, and don’t have the licenses to just pass along like ships that are pre-registered to the Trade Federation or the like. They could sneak past--literally all of them know smuggler’s routes--but it’s honestly less of a pain to do things legally. They have a Jedi Master. They have cash. Some of that cash wasn’t quite legally acquired, but nobody needs to know that.

It’s supposed to be a pit stop. That’s all.

It’s just a pit stop.

But no, the galaxy isn’t that kind and Ahsoka’s luck is currently being compounded with a Skywalker, two Fetts, and Vos, which means that of course they run into trouble. Of course they do. There was never any other option, was there?

“Motherfucker,” Ahsoka snaps, lifting her head up and slamming her drink on the table.

The glass is empty. That’s good. They’re in a restaurant right now, a little splurging after weeks with only each others’ company, and spilling the sugary child-friendly juice with that move would have drawn way too much attention from the servers.

“Language,” Tholme says, voice idly unconcerned.

“Sir?” Rex asks, kicking Ahsoka under the table. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wr--that jackass,” she hisses, getting to her feet. “Rex, grab a blaster, I’ve got shebs to kick.”

“Okay,” Rex says, grabbing one out of Fett’s holster and scooting out of the booth before anyone can tell him not to. “Whose?”

“I didn’t even know that he was... osik, I don’t have jurisdiction,” she realizes. “I don’t have any record of wrongdoing. I can’t arrest him since we don’t have evidence of criminal wrongdoing...”

“Are you two going to explain what’s going on?” Vos asks. “Or sit down, maybe?”

Ahsoka makes her decision. She eyes the window--the restaurant in question is a little dingy, but it’s also several dozen stories in the air. “Rex, remember the thing we did on Geonosis that you hated?”

He pauses, and then sighs heavily. “Yes, sir. I remember the... yeeting.”

Hah. That slang doesn’t even exist yet.

“Great. With me!”

It’s a good thing the windows are forcefields instead of transparisteel. A bit of a twist to the energy and they’re gone.

She only hears a little screaming before the wind tears all noises away while they plummet.

They land lightly--of course--and Ahsoka wraps them both in a don’t notice me aura. Nobody even notices that they’ve just come from above. It’s great that she can just Do These Things again, and get brushed off as Weird Jedi Shit, instead of worrying about the Empire. She’s missed being able to jump out of windows without fear.

Rex follows her as she starts running through the city. They don’t have comms, and he’s still so small, which means he can’t keep up with her even if she runs at normal speeds without Force enhancement.

“Should you carry me?” he asks, before she can figure out if it’s worth suggesting. She did it a few times before they joined up with Jango.

“It’s not... urgent, I think,” she says. She hesitates to speak, even as she keeps jogging with Rex at her heels. “Honestly, I’m trying to figure out if there’s anything I can ding him for so we can attack him. It’s all well and good that I can beat him right now, but all the crimes I know about haven’t happened yet, so it wouldn’t be legal...”

“Commander?”

“Hm?”

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

She scrolls the conversation back mentally, considers, and says, “Oh.”

“Who’s getting steamrolled?”

“Uh, Maul’s here,” Ahsoka admits.

“Ah,” Rex says. He makes a face. “I understand the desire to jump out a window, now. I don’t agree with it, but I understand.”

Ahsoka laughs. “I mean, I just... every time I’ve seen him for almost twenty years, it’s been like... on sight, you know? We’ve never not attacked each other, except when I needed him to cause problems on Mandalore. But I always knew I was in the right, then.”

“So... what do we arrest him for?” Rex prompts.

“Um... carrying a lightsaber without a license?” she hazards. “We’ll need Tholme there. Hopefully I can just shout at him and he’ll attack me, but I think he only went full nutjob after Master Kenobi cut his legs off. He might be too controlled to try to kill me just for yelling at him.”

“...do we have to stalk him?” Rex asks, sounding like he’d most likely sigh if he weren’t mid-run.

She scoops him up and swings him around onto her back before she answers. “I think we have to stalk him, Rex’ika.”

“Don’t call me that.”

---------------------------

Maul is... exceptionally sneaky, actually. Either that, or he hasn’t done anything wrong yet. Ahsoka’s betting on the former, because she’s seen this particular skocha kung take over a planet before anyone realized he was the most dangerous person around.

Or maybe he’s just not committing crimes, and is in fact just here to buy groceries.

He’s examining a papaya.

She fantasizes about jumping across the market and greeting him with a heel to the cheekbone.

“Are you imagining a flying kick, Sir?”

“Yeah...”

“He’s examining a papaya, Sir.”

“I know...”

“Does he know we’re here?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? Do you think I should go hit him?”

“No.”

“Should I hit on him?”

“No, Sir. I would not advise that.”

“He’s looking at the neloms.”

“I can see that.”

“Why does he have to be so bo--did he just fucking bite a nelom?”

“It appears so, Sir.”

“Like... like rind and all. Just bit the little fucker.”

“Seems it.”

A scuff of metal. “What the fuck are you two doing?”

Ahsoka tips her head around to peer through the grate. “We’re spying, Fett, what does it look like we’re doing?”

Rex cranes his head. “We’re hanging upside-down from a fire escape to get a look at a suspected Sith Apprentice that is currently shopping for various fruits, Mand’alor.”

Ahsoka waves. “Hi, Master Tholme.”

“Sokari,” the master greets. “This seems a very conspicuous way to spy.”

She shrugs as well as she can from this angle. “Yes, but you see, this way’s more fun.”

“Is it now.”

Rex shifted. “He’s on the move!”

“To kill someone?!”

“No, to the deli meats.”

“Kriff.”

---------------------------

Apparently, Tholme and Fett had told Quinlan to take care of Leia, as Leia had wanted to finish her juice and refused to get involved in the Torrents’ nonsense. According to her, if they couldn’t be bothered to explain the nonsense, they didn’t need her.

This was true and accurate.

Quinlan shows up while they’re still stalking Maul, having moved to a low rooftop for a decent vantage point with less likelihood of being spotted. He’s giving Leia an eopie-back ride, and the pout on her face at needing it is adorable. She pouts harder when she sees them.

“Are you even trying to hide?” Leia scoffs.

“Not really,” Ahsoka admits. She’s got Fett’s binoculars out. “I’m not sure he’s caught wind of the fact that we’re here yet.”

“Or he has and he’s just biding his time to escape while we’re distracted,” Tholme points out.

“Meh,” Ahsoka says, avidly devouring the visual that is a teenage Maul glaring at leafy vegetables. “I just want him to do something so I have an excuse to beat his ass.”

“Do I get to know who?” Quinlan asks, setting Leia down on the roof. “Or are we going to keep being completely unwilling to share information?”

“Baby Sith Lord,” Ahsoka says. “He’s fifteen. A child.”

“A baby,” Rex agrees.

“You’re... that’s... ugh,” Quinlan groans as loudly and as dramatically as he dares, flopping down to the rooftop. “Master Tholme, please tell me this isn’t a real Sith.”

“He’s Dark,” Tholme confirms. “Sith is... up for debate until we have evidence.”

“He’s a bitch is what he is,” Ahsoka mutters. She observes the teenager in question stop to poke at some pink tomatoes. “E chu ta, break the law, already!”

“Does he have a lightsaber?” Quinlan asks. “If he has a lightsaber and no Jedi ID or specialty license, we can probably arrest him.”

“Auntie Soka doesn’t have a license or ID,” Leia points out.

“She’s got a Jedi escort,” Tholme says. “And if our supposed Sith is polite and plays nice, we can probably escort him to the Temple as well.”

Rex snorts derisively.

“Do you know why he’s on Denon?” Fett asks.

“No clue,” Ahsoka admits. “Evil reasons, probably.”

“You’re useless,” Leia tells her.

“Thanks, princess, how’s that attempt to open the jam jar by yourself coming?”

Leia says something very inappropriate for a princess, for a child, and for a lady. It’s fairly appropriate for a soldier, which is admittedly what she’s been for a few years now. Ahsoka sticks her tongue out at the girl like the mature operative she is.

“I wish we could still get him to lose his osik by just showing up and insulting him,” Rex mutters, low enough that Quinlan probably can’t hear.

“I wanna punch him in the face,” Ahsoka confesses. “I want him to try to punch me in the face, and fail.”

“Don’t bully the baby Sith,” Rex admonishes.

“He’s a Sith.”

“He’s fifteen, it’s tacky.”

“But it’s Maul.”

“I know, but you’re tw--significantly older than him.”

“But... but it’s the motherfucker himself.”

“...you can bully him a little, but only because he’s a Sith.”

Fett steals the binoculars. “You can borrow them again when you stop acting like children.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Rex says, dry as Ryloth. “I’m ten.”

“Pretty tall for your age,” Ahsoka mutters, and then giggles.

“Don’t steal my jokes,” Rex says. He elbows her, hard.

“You know,” Quinlan says, slow and tired. “Master Tholme and I are trained investigators.”

Ahsoka and Rex look at each other, and then up at him.

“Okay?”

“...do you want me to find actual evidence of this guy doing something criminal?”

“Oh, yes please.”

---------------------------

Quinlan, as it turns out, is not overselling his skills. He does catch Maul doing something illegal later that day. It’s a little more ‘stealing corporate secrets in the dead of night’ and less ‘torturing people for kicks,’ but it’s still enough to legally arrest him. Quinlan attempts to do so.

Quinlan does not succeed, and is forced to jump out a window to avoid getting cut in half. Maul follows, steals a passing speeder by throwing out the driver, and takes off. Someone--looks like Tholme--drops back to save the driver, but the rest of them give chase. Ahsoka gleefully takes point on that, of course. She’s the best pilot.

(Rex looks bored, but someone is likely to puke by the end of the night. She hopes it’s not Leia, who insisted on coming for some fucking reason.)

“How the kriff is a teenager that good?!” Quinlan yells, clinging to the edge of the speeder to avoid getting tipped out as Ahsoka swerves around a corner with a wild laugh.

“He’s a Sith!” Leia shouts over the wind. “What do you think?”

Quinlan is not impressed by the claim of Sith.

Ahsoka screeches as she drifts across four lanes of traffic and into an alleyway to pursue Maul. He’s pretty good at dodging cross-building walkways, but she’s better. She bares her teeth, hissing, and tries to pick a plan.

“Vos, how’s your aim with Force throws?” She calls to the backseat.

“Uh, decent?”

“Great! Fett’s the projectile!”

Vos takes a second longer to process that than Jango does.

“I’m wh--”

He cuts off, screaming, and is flung forward by Quinlan to crash headfirst into a teenage Sith.

“Take the wheel!” Ahsoka commands, not waiting to see who follows the order, because Fett and Maul are both getting to their feet, the other speeder is about to crash, and she’s not sure who’s going to win that fight.

She jumps from the speeder they’ve been violently dragging around Denon, and lands feet-first on Maul’s... shoulder.

Hm.

That definitely dislocated something.

“You should wear armor!” she chirps at him, drawing both sabers and grinning as he whirls to face her, eyes wide with hate.

He’s utterly silent.

That’s disturbing. Expected, but disturbing.

“Did you just throw me?” Fett demands, higher pitched than she’d normally expect.

“No, Vos threw you.”

“Because you told him to!”

“Yeah, it’s a good strategy!”

“It is not!”

“Why not? Throwing people was standard practice in the GAR.”

She can’t see his face, but she’s pretty sure he’s about ready to strangle her.

Ahsoka cannot, at that point, continue snarking with the father of her best friend, because there’s a red lightsaber coming for her throat, and she should probably worry about that. Maul’s very good at killing people and she’d like to avoid becoming part of that statistic.

As she is quickly reminded, he is... fifteen. And shorter than she’s used to. And already injured.

It’s really, really easy to take him out, actually.

At some point, the other speeder was safely recovered before it caused property damage, and their own is landing a few meters away with Vos and the kids.

“You have Force-negating cuffs, right?” Ahsoka asks.

“No, Master Tholme has them.”

“Oh,” she says, and grimaces. “I guess I’ll just... keep sitting on him then.”

Maul snarls, and she raps him on the skull. “Stop that, it’s uncivilized.”

Rex snorts.

Jango makes a noise that is incredibly frustrated with the lot of them, and turns on Rex. “Was she telling the truth?”

“About?”

“Throwing people being standard practice for the GAR.”

Rex’s face goes pained. “It was in the five-oh-first. And a few others.”

“What’s the GAR?” Quinlan asks.

“None of your damn business,” Fett snaps.

Quinlan throws his hands up in the air again. “Come on! I just proved I know what I’m doing!”

“And their tragic backstory is none of your business, prudii!”

Quinlan blinks at him, and then glances at Ahsoka. “Um.”

“He called you a shadow since your training, um, seems to be pointing in that direction,” she says as carefully as she can. “We were theorizing.”

“Wh... you actually paid attention?” Quinlan asks, looking horribly confused. “I thought I was just annoying you.”

Ahsoka laughs at him. “Oh, Vos... I’ve been running black ops for... much longer than most would guess. Trust me, I know another spy when I see them.”

She smiles as kindly as she can, because she hadn’t actually meant to make him feel left out or unwanted or... well, she’d been pretty patronizing, especially for someone seemingly younger than him. The smile does not work. Quinlan just looks kind of horrified about how young she just implied she started spy work.

Granted, she’d been sixteen for Zygerria...

Deciding to ignore him for a bit, she shifts on Maul’s back and pats him on the cheek. “Don’t worry, Baby Sith. We’re going to get you lots of nice therapy. Mind healers, no Sith tortures, all that fun stuff. Maybe some plushies.”

“You’re also getting therapy, right?” Quinlan asks. “Please say you are. I’m required for the specifics of my training and if anything you’ve said is true, I feel like you really need it and I’m scared of what’ll happen if you don’t.”

Ahsoka laughs, knowing exactly how empty it sounds. “Oh hell, if I didn’t get therapy, I imagine Kix would rise from the grave to force me into it.”

The name means nothing to anyone except Rex, and... ah, yeah, she told Fett about Kix a few weeks ago.

“No more throwing me without warning,” Fett grumbles, dropping to sit on the ground next to her. “Especially not at baby Sith Lords.”

“I am not a child!” Maul spits.

“He speaks!” Ahsoka cheers. “Aw, I knew you could do it.”

“’Soka, I told you not to bully him,” Rex complains. “It’s tacky. You’re being tacky.”

“I’m allowed to be tacky,” Ahsoka declares. “I’ve died twice, that’s, like, permission from the universe.”

“You’ve died twice?” Quinlan asks, back in ‘fascinated horror’ territory. “Wait, no, I shouldn’t ask--”

“Too late! The first time was on a planet that doesn’t exist and my Master lost his mind, killed a god, and used the good favor of another god to have me brought back to life at her expense. Not in that order.”

“I--what? No, that’s--what?”

Ahsoka smiles brightly. “You asked.”

Tholme finally shows up with the cuffs.

---------------------------

“You should eat something.”

He glares at her.

“Baby Sith Lords need to eat.”

He keeps glaring at her.

“Maul, you’ll never get big and strong and ready to kill if you don’t eat your vegetables.”

He bares his teeth.

“No, I don’t eat my veggies, but I’m a Togruta, so if I eat too many vegetables I throw up.”

Rex kicks her thigh, right on the faulds. “What did I say about bullying the Sith Lord?”

“Not to.”

“And what are you doing?”

“Making him eat his vegetables.”

“Soka.”

“Rex’ika.”

He kicks at her again. “Get up, we’re swapping out the watch.”

“But I wanted to hang out with my favorite little criminal mastermind.”

Rex drops to the floor and presses his forehead to her shoulder. “How the hell is being around this guy the first thing to make you cheer up in weeks?”

“I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

“He’s going to bite you.”

“I’ll bite back.”

Rex jabs a finger into her ribs, and she squeaks. “Go get something to eat, Commander.”

“Fine,” she huffs, rolling to her feet and moseying along to the galley. She walks in on Tholme and Fett having an argument about the ways in which Jedi and Mandalorians differ. Quinlan’s on the side, watching with wide eyes, and little Leia’s drinking a juice box at his side, tucked up under his arm and occasionally saying things to fan the flames. Ahsoka assumes she’s enjoying herself.

She opens the cooling unit, looks over the contents, and pulls out a raw leg of eopie mutton. She leans against the counter, bites into the chilled-but-not-frozen meat, and uses the back of one hand to wipe the blood off her chin. The ‘real adults’ don’t notice.

“I’m like ninety percent sure you’re doing this to mess with me but also...” Quinlan trails off, staring at her with horror. “Why?”

“A girl’s gotta eat.”

“Yeah, but all the obligate carnivores I know are like... generally holding to basic rules of courtesy when it comes to not grossing people out,” Quinlan says. “Like, I don’t chew with my mouth open. You don’t... eat in the most intimidating--did you just crack the bone with your teeth?!”

Ahsoka smirks at him, using her free hand to take away the shard of bone so she can suck out the marrow without eating the bones themselves. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this isn’t polite society. We’re in a galley on a bounty hunter’s ship, and I’ve been living on the run or in an army for most of my life. Table manners are optional.”

“No, they’re not,” Leia orders. “Fett, it’s your ship, tell her to--”

“--and another thing!” Fett snaps at Tholme, clearly paying less than no attention to the food argument.

Ahsoka keeps on eating, trying to catch wind of where the discussion’s at. Mostly, it seems to be at ‘talking past each other.’ Neither of them seems to have fully grasped more than the absolute most basic parts of the other culture, and that’s only enough to insult each other, not actually have a constructive conversation. She’d have expected more out of Tholme, at least. He’s not exactly young.

“Hey, quick question,” she says, in a moment where both of them have paused for breath and the opportunity to seethe. “Fett, when’s the last time you worked with a Jedi, or any member of a Force-based religion, before I popped into your life?”

His nose scrunches up as he makes a face.

“And Tholme, when’s the last time you worked with anyone from the Mandalorian system?”

Tholme’s reaction isn’t any more gracious than Fett’s.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” she says. “Vos, were either of them actually interested in that conversation, or just looking for an excuse to yell?”

“Now listen here, jetiika--”

“Fett,” she snaps. “I am not a child.”

“And neither am I,” he growls right back. “This is my ship, and I damn well don’t need you treating me like a misbehaving youngling. You’ve got a problem, you bring it to my face, not get all smug about people’s tempers blowing over.”

Well, then.

She smiles thinly. “Of course.”

He stands with his arms crossed, in full armor save for the helmet. She puts aside the eopie meat and wipes her hands, smiling until she can put her hands on her hips and let it drop to a challenge.

“You know, I’m just--I’m just gonna go,” Quinlan mutters, pulling Leia out with him, the girl hanging from under one of his arms. “This, uh, this looks like a problem for... you folks. Um. Yeah.”

He sidles out.

Tholme doesn’t.

Fett rubs at the bridge of his nose, and then gestures at the table. “Sit.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

He drops his hand and glares at her. “We have another week on this ship together. We are going to have this conversation. Sit.”

She sits, right on the warm spot left behind by Quinlan and Leia. She crosses her arms, lifts a brow, and waits.

Fett takes the seat across from her. Tholme leans against the counter.

“We all know you’re older than you look,” Fett says. “I heard Tholme mention it, I know that much has been shared. You’re acting like an actual teenager, and I’ve... I’ve put up with a lot. I am trying to keep things civil, particularly with you. I’ve tried to be friendly. You’ve been fucked up since we met, fine, everyone’s got trauma. The thing where you’ve started talking shit to our faces for what seems like your own amusement? That has to stop. You’re older than me, Torrent. Fucking act like it.”

She blinks at him, slow and not exactly happy, and turns to Tholme.

The man shrugs. “I was planning to put up with it until we arrived to the temple and handed you over to some mind healers. Fett doesn’t have that kind of time.”

There’s a curdle in her stomach, defensive and angry and guilty.

“You’ve been... a bitch,” Fett finally says. “You know that. I’m not going to mince words. You’ve been holier-than-thou and rude and condescending, and aiming that at Antilles is one thing, when you’ve apparently known her since she was a toddler and taught her things. Aiming at the rest of us isn’t going to fly. We’re all adults trying to share a space. Stop acting like... just like you have been.”

There is no defense to be made that they aren’t both already aware of.

She closes her eyes and tries to strangle the burst of irrational rage.

Their accusations aren’t unfounded.

They deserve an apology.

She is in the wrong.

She’s felt freer than she had in years, and in that freedom allowed herself too much rein, let herself lace her words with barbed wires and poison instead of sparks and spices, comments that were cruel instead of just joking. Too familiar. Too comfortable.

“My behavior’s been inappropriate,” she finally says, the words clumsy and too big in her mouth. “You’re right about that. I’m sorry, and I’ll endeavor to keep a tighter rein on my less pleasant behaviors in the future.”

At least she only lashes out with words. It could be worse.

She opens her eyes, fixes her gaze on the wall behind Fett, wrestles her expression into stiff neutrality. “Am I dismissed?”

“...uh, no, not after that,” Fett says, sounding just a little horrified. “What the hell was that?”

Tholme hisses out a breath. “Let her go.”

“No, this needs to be discussed, that’s not a healthy rea--”

“Fett, let her go,” Tholme insists, low and heavy.

Fett looks between the two for a moment, seems to come to a realization he doesn’t like, and then gestures almost violently towards the door. “Fine. Go.”

She walks out, doesn’t sprint. She’s stiff. She’s controlled. She’s the one that fucked up, so it’s fine if she doesn’t feel great right now. Getting called out on one’s own failings as a person isn’t something to get upset about if the failings are real. The feelings are real and normal, but this was her fault, and so it’s up to her to fix it, and she can’t let them know it hurt her, because this was her mistake.

She goes to the cargo hold.

---------------------------

Ahsoka works out her frustrations on Fett’s punching bag. She does not augment herself with the Force, just uses raw strength and technique, ignoring the tears that press at her eyes.

She’s fine.

It’s not weird. It’s not odd. It’s not strange to not notice she’s been kind of a bitch since her mood came up with the whole Depa thing, and then Maul. She’s been mean, mostly to Vos and Fett, and nobody’s confronted her about it until now. They let her have room for her trauma, and she hadn’t reined it in. She’s just gotten worse.

‘Snippy’ she’d always been, but age apparently hadn’t fucking tempered it.

“Um.”

She catches the punching bag, breathing heavily and covered in sweat. She hasn’t worked out all the twitchy, nervous energy yet.

“Vos,” she greets, once she’s caught herself enough that her voice won’t waver. He’s on the other side of the bag, but she knows his voice. “Do you need something?”

“You’re kind of... projecting,” he tells her, drifting to where she can actually see him. “Not self-loathing, but, um, recrimination? You just don’t feel very good and I was hoping to help”

Why in all the Sith hells does he have to be nice.

“I got called out on my behavior and wasn’t ready to face the fact that I’d kriffed up,” she tells him. “I’ll be fine. And I’m... sorry. I haven’t been fair to you and was using you as an easy target for some of my ruder comments.”

“I mean, I kind of figured,” he admits, coming closer. “I’ve been tutored by Shadows before, and a lot of them act like you. I just assumed it was more of that.”

“I still shouldn’t have let myself run loose like that,” she says. “I’m... it wasn’t appropriate. I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

He shrugs, not meeting her eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she says. “Not with... not with you. Or anyone other than Rex and a mind healer, really. Most of it is...”

She trails off, distantly noticing that her eyes are tearing up enough to blur her vision, and her nails are digging into the bag in a way Fett won’t appreciate.

There’s so much that beat her down, never quite breaking her, that she doesn’t even know what made her act the way she does.

“Want to spar?”

She looks over at him, wonders what he sees that makes him want to fight her when she’s visibly unstable.

He smiles, kind and easy, and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. It’s genuine in intent, if not in energy. He wants to help. “You all keep saying I could work on my hand-to-hand. Just take off the armor so I don’t break a finger, maybe.”

“You’re serious.”

“No, I’m Quinlan.”

She’s going to wipe the floor with this boy. “You sure you wanna fight me?”

“You won’t be able to meditate until you do,” he says. He’s right, damn him. “The other option is that I go get your... vod, I think? I go get Rex and you two can talk it out since you trust him with more. I don’t want to do that, though, he’s still a kid.”

She eyes him, lips pressed together and mind awhirl with emotions and thoughts she’d tried to beat out of her head and into the bag. “Ever fought someone without the Force?”

“...yes?”

“Was it cuffs?”

“Oh, you meant me not having the Force,” he realizes. “Er, no. Is... is that something you’ve done a lot?”

She smiles at him. “You’re planning on Shadow work. That means getting captured and stripped of everything you are at some point, Force included. Unfortunately, the cuffs are in use on a very annoying Dathomirian right now, so we’ll have to make do with you shielding like your mind’s a Kessel Spice Mine.”

“...do I want to know how often you’ve been captured?”

“No, you don’t.”

When he comes at her, it’s easy to dodge. It’s easy to tap him on target points, little pokes that show she could take him out, but isn’t going to until he’s learned something. He stays grinning throughout, letting her take the lead, and he treats her like... like a knight. Like a teacher. He’s stepped back and gone from trying to impress her as a fellow padawan, to proving himself to a full knight.

She’s not sure when that change happened, or why or how, but it makes things much smoother. She wants to think that it would have even if she hadn’t gotten a wakeup call from Fett.

So she treats him the way she treated Ezra, for the year she’d spent traveling with Kanan. She treats him as a student that’s willing to learn, good but not yet great, competent but not yet ready to survive. She draws him into the kind of chest-heaving exhaustion that tells a fighter just how much energy they waste.

(Ahsoka may have had her own style, but her grandmaster had been the pinnacle of a Soresu user. She’d spent years on the frontlines of a war. She knew the worth of conserving energy, and she’d teach it to any who stepped in to challenge her.)

“Who taught you to fight like this?” He asks, when they’ve taken a handful of moments to circle each other. His steps are heavy, sure, planted. Her own are light and ready.

“Soldiers,” she says. It’s true enough.

“Not your Master?” he asks, just as he tries to kick for her upper arm. It’s a safe question. For anyone else, it would be a safe question.

But for Ahsoka, it’s another chink in the armor, after a maelstrom of emotion, a storm of self-loathing, a dervish of instability.

She doesn’t break right away.

She spirals. She fights Quinlan, but doesn’t quite see him. Her strikes get sloppy, her feet stumble. She can’t make herself meet Quinlan’s eyes, not when the scrape of his heel against the metal sounds like the rasp of a breathing machine. Her shields get fuzzy, she knows, and she leaks what she feels into the air, making it sour and thick. She doesn’t notice, because all she can see, all she can--all she can hear and feel and--

She drops to her knees and grabs at her head, trying to stop it.

“Sokari?”

She breathes. In and out, harsh and jagged but natural in a way that the damned respirator wasn’t.

Her master her teacher her brother the traitor the hound the executioner

Her face is hot. Something prickles. It might be tears.

She tries to say something, tries to say a name or a request, tries to make anything come out of her mouth that isn’t the broken wail of a woman who hasn’t let herself think about how she died.

She feels herself pulled into someone’s arms, and she can’t quite tell who, but they’re bigger than she is, and feel warm and worried. They care. They don’t understand, they’re scared, but they care.

Her hands shake, clutched to her chest and she can’t breathe she can’t make herself take in enough air to do a Force-damned thing the empire is going to feel her her shields are down and broken and her emotions are spilling and the empire is going to find HER ANAKIN IS GOING TO FIND HER AND--

“COMMANDER!”

Rex.

Rex is here.

Her breath is coming so fast that she’s hiccupping more than she’s actually inhaling. She feels small hands in gloves on either side of her face, and then her forehead presses to something warm.

Rex. A Keldabe kiss. Her brother, her partner, her other half. He’s here. He’s calm. If he’s calm, then things are fine.

“What happened?” Light voice, high voice, small and distant. Leia. Little Leia little princess Leia she’s in danger she’s in trouble Anakin will--

“Commander.”

No. Here and now. She needs to focus on here and now. Her throat feels cold. She breathes too fast, still. She can’t stop it.

“I don’t know.” That’s Vos. He was... they were doing something. He was here. Talking to her. “We were sparring, and she just--”

Right, sparring.

“I don’t know if I said something?” He offers, voice pitching up, unsure and worried. Is he the one holding her? He’s the one holding her. That’s embarrassing.

“Commander?” Rex prompts. “Commander, can you open your eyes?”

She tries. She can’t. She shakes her head.

“Soka?” he asks, voice quiet. “Where are you?”

“F-F-Fett,” she manages. It’s enough.

“And where were you?”

His voice is so soft. So worried. She held him the same way after Mandalore, after Order 66, after all his brothers, all her friends...

“Soka.”

Her mind is spinning, and suddenly all she can hear is Anakin Skywalker is dead. I destroyed him.

Her breath hitches, and she wails.

“Commander,” Rex tries again, but her head is a vortex of Then you will die and Perhaps this child and not the Jedi way.

Our long awaited meeting.

I destroyed him.

Then you will die.

She can’t breathe she can’t breathe she can only see that yellow eye that’s too familiar but belongs to a stranger can only hear a voice that shouldn’t exist can only mourn and break and--

“Soka?”

“Malachor,” she manages. “I--h-he--I died.”

“What did you say?” someone asks. A vod. It’s the right voice, almost, rough and business-like, not accusing anyone yet, and... and... no. No. Not one of her boys. It’s Fett.

“Um, right at the end? I asked her who taught her to fight like this,” Quinlan says, nervous. “And she said it was soldiers. And I joked, I asked that it wasn’t her Master, and she didn’t answer that. A couple minutes later, she just started...”

“Oh, Soka,” Rex whispers, pulling her closer. “Commander, just breathe with me.”

“H-h-he, he just--R-Rex, he j-just--and I c-c-couldn’t--”

“I know,” her captain whispers. “I know, just breathe with me.”

“He k-k-k-killed me,” she sobs, falling out of the Keldabe and into too-small arms. “I l-loved--he was my broth-ther and--and he just--he killed me, he didn’t even stop.”

“I know,” Rex whispers. “Soka, I know.”

Of course he does.

---------------------------

“It was just bad timing,” Rex says, once they’re in the room she’s been sharing with her little family, curled up under a blanket and watching the floor like it has all the secrets to how she lost her world three times over.

“Is there anything we need to keep in mind?” Fett asks, gruff and uncomfortable. She wonders if he’s angry that she took his necessary confrontation and turned it into this mess.

“Don’t bring up her Jedi Master,” Rex says, and pulls her in when she shivers. Her eyes squeeze shut before she can stop them, tears beading up again. “Just... don’t. It’s too soon.”

“He’s--”

“He Fell,” Ahsoka interrupts. “I thought he died, but he became a Sith. And fifteen years later, we ran into each other, and I refused to join him in the Dark, so he tried to kill me.”

Fett swears, low and muffled. She thinks he has a hand over his mouth.

Quin and Leia aren’t there. She thinks they’re keeping an eye on their Baby Sith prisoner. That’s good.

“Soka,” Rex whispers, and she buries her face in his shoulder. She’s too old to be this kind of mess. She’s thirty-two. She’s Fulcrum. She’s...

She’s in need of a lot of therapy.

“We can avoid the subject unless you bring it up,” Tholme promises. “Definitely until the Temple. Is there anything else we shouldn’t talk about?”

Ahsoka can practically feel Rex’s deadpan look. “Sir, we’re a trio of child soldiers ripped from everything we know. Every other sentence is a risk. We’re just... working our way through.”

There’s a knock at the door. Oh. Quin and Leia.

“Just figured we’d drop this off before we went down to visit Mr. Grumpy-Face,” Quinlan whispers. He still thinks Leia’s a child. He’s trying to make things less terrible for her. That’s nice. “We decided he’ll be less angry if he tries Hoth chocolate, and made some for everyone.”

They definitely made it for Ahsoka herself, and Maul was an afterthought. Still. It’s sweet.

“Commander?” Rex prompts, jostling her a little to try and get her to sit up.

“Gimme a sec,” she manages. It takes longer than it should to push herself away from him, to accept the mug that Leia gives her, too-serious worry in the furrow of her brow and the twist of her soul.

She doesn’t look six. She doesn’t even look twenty-two. This girl was always too old for her skin, forced to grow up in the hostile fear of the Empire.

“Thank you, Princess.”

She sips.

She can barely taste it beyond the ashes she imagines coating her tongue.

I destroyed him, her memory echoes. His slightest hesitation before he made the final move, it haunts her. She almost reached him. If only she’d tried harder, yelled louder, been better...

She shivers.

“Do you need help falling asleep?” Tholme asks. “I’m a regular healer, not a mind healer, but...”

She probably should.

She takes another sip of her drink, willing herself to taste it. It’s good. She likes it. She knows she does.

“Can you make it dreamless?” she whispers.

“It doesn’t always work, but I can try,” he tells her.

She nods. “When I finish the chocolate.”

“Of course.”

---------------------------

Everyone’s careful around her for days. The whole decision to be nicer doesn’t mean anything when she’s walking about in a daze of too few emotions, drained of everything she could feel in favor of a grey cloud of fluff in everything she does.

She does forms. Single saber and Jar’kai. Ataru and Djem so and Soresu. Reverse grip, regular grip, partial reverse on either side.

Again. Again. Again.

She loses herself in the motions, not meditating so much as just empty.

Rex worries. Fett worries. Vos worries.

Leia and Tholme keep their shields locked up tight, and she doesn’t know how they feel. She thinks Leia might be judging her. She think Tholme might be pitying.

Maul simply hates. It’s an old and familiar sensation to walk into, and she takes unthinking comfort in his rage. She’s silent instead of snippy, when she plays the role of guard, and they stare at each other in silence. His eyes burn, and she wonders how much he’s heard of her nightmares.

“You need to talk,” Rex tells her, when he finds her with a cold cup of caff, eyes fixed somewhere beyond it all. She lifts her head. “Soka.”

She just stares at him.

He sighs and pulls her into a hug. “Commander, please.”

She can’t.

Ahsoka stares at the wall behind him, resting her chin on his head. Her neck itches under the lek at the back of her head, a little tingle of a feeling that she can’t bring herself to do anything about. The pale light of the galley is sharp against the chipped paint of the metal that surrounds them. It hurts her eyes to look, but it’s not the deep and dark lit only by red--

Then you will die, her memory growls.

She flinches.

“Breathe,” Rex tells her, too-small hands clinging at her back. “Just breathe, ‘Soka.”

She curls in tighter and tries to just breathe.

---------------------------

“Tell me something good.”

Ahsoka blinks. She looks at Leia. She doesn’t have the energy to parse that.

Leia chances a look at Rex, who isn’t leaving Ahsoka’s side any more than he has to, and Fett on the other side. Tholme’s asleep and Quin’s on Baby Sith duty. It’s just people who know, right now.

The little girl across the table, the child senator, the spy, purses her lips and huffs in irritation. “You knew my biological father before he became one of the worst people in the galaxy. Both of you did. Tell me something good about him.”

Good things.

About Anakin.

“You fought a war as a Jedi,” Leia prompts. “Surely you must have done some good things with him, or at least thought you were.”

Did they?

Every mission ended in tragedy or was just a ploy of Palpatine’s. Every saved life was just...

Wait.

“He built Threepio,” she finally says. “Your father wi--I mean, Bail wiped Threepio’s memory after the Empire rose, for your safety, but Anakin was the one who built him.”

Leia sits up, eyes brighter. “I didn’t know that. I... was Artoo involved? Did he build R2D2, or...”

“No,” Rex says, “But Artoo was his favorite astromech, and they always pushed each other into stupid stunts. We risked a hell of a lot to save that droid, more than once, and I didn’t find out until you started working with the Rebellion full-time, but Artoo and Threepio were the witnesses for your bio-parents’ wedding.”

Leia gapes at him. So does Ahsoka. (Fett doesn’t know enough to care.)

Rex grins, and if it looks a little forced, that’s fine. “He had a holo recording. I was one of the few people left that knew about the marriage that might have wanted to see, so Artoo offered. It was... sweet.”

He waits, probably for Ahsoka to add something herself, but she has nothing.

“I think that’s when they swapped droids, since Threepio was more useful to a politician and Artoo did his best work when we set him loose on the enemy.”

“He never changed,” Leia muses. “Did he always swear that much?”

“Yes,” Ahsoka answers, as Rex laughs. “Always. All the binary I learned started with the best swears.”

She tries to think of another good memory, something else that Leia might appreciate. Her mind ticks back to saving Stinky, which is just a terrible option, because that mission started with Hutts and ended with the Battle of Teth. That massive loss of life, all for the son of the creature that had put Leia in chains.

She wonders if she has anything in her memory that doesn’t end in blood and graves.

“Soka.” Rex.

“Hm?”

“Remember that time Fives and Echo got lost in the undercity their first time on leave, and we had to get the General to help us find them?”

She does.

He’s right, that’s a good story.

“Okay, so what you have to understand,” Ahsoka says, already digging the faint details out and dusting them off, “is that these boys were ARC troopers, top-notch, terrifyingly competent once they got through specialty training, and loyal as hell. Echo had memorized the reg manuals front to back, and Fives was... well, Fives ended up being the only person to figure out the chips before they went into action. Point is, the Domino twins were good... eventually. Just like everyone else, though, they started out shiny.”

---------------------------

“Tholme’s hiding something.”

Ahsoka wonders if Leia will just leave if she ignores her enough. Probably not. This was the girl that got kicked out of boarding school for leading a sit-in at age seven. She’s got patience.

“His job requires him to hide a lot of things,” Ahsoka says instead. “Not as many as Vos will have to, eventually, but a lot.”

“He’s hiding something from us,” Leia insists, visibly frustrated that Ahsoka isn’t as upset about this as she is. “Something important.”

The way she says ‘important’ is clumsy and impacted by the missing baby tooth. She can’t say the r. It comes out as ‘im-poh-ten,’ which is adorable, and if Ahsoka comments on it, she’s probably going to get punched by a six-year-old.

“The Force doesn’t care,” Ahsoka says. “I trust his intentions, if not him as a person.”

“If you don’t trust him, then why trust his intentions?”

“Leia, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I trust one and a half people in the galaxy,” Ahsoka points out. “Me not trusting a person isn’t a sign of anything except my paranoia. The only person I trust fully and without reservation is Rex. Even you, I only mostly trust, because my brain starts screaming if I think too hard. That’s why you’re the half.”

“Okay, whatever, paranoia aside,” Leia barrels on, “He should tell us. Whatever it is that he’s hiding, we deserve to know. We’re not children that he can just hide things from for our own good.”

Ahsoka presses her lips together. “Leia. Princess. I know you’re used to holding all the cards--”

“This isn’t about me being a control freak!”

“It is, though,” Ahsoka soothes, and smiles. “Your mother--the bio one--was the same way. You spent years as one of the leaders of the Rebellion, so obviously you’re used to having all the information, and people reporting to you... but Tholme is a Jedi Master. He reports to the Council and the Republic. Do you know how many people I kept secrets from while I was a padawan? We’re an unknown, Leia. They have no proof that we’re on their side, especially since we’re traveling with Fett.”

Leia crosses her arms and glares as hard as she can.

“I’m not going to bother him,” Ahsoka says. “I’ve already had, like, five unrelated mental breakdowns. I’m putting this on hold until we get to the Temple and I can trust that there’s a healer on hand to sedate me or something.”

“You... want to be sedated?”

“Leia, this... really should be obvious, but a Force-Sensitive losing their osik the way I have been isn’t actually safe. I know I broke a weapons rack last week.” Ahsoka gestures vaguely. “If the Jedi Master isn’t telling me something for reasons that might relate to my clear and obvious mental instability, I’m going to assume he’s got a point.”

“So he should tell me or Rex.”

“We’ll be on Coruscant in four days,” Ahsoka soothes. “Just... let it be. They won’t hurt us.”

“You don’t know that.”

Ahsoka shrugs. “I don’t have to. The Force leads me in all things, including this.”

Leia isn’t impressed by that, but Leia isn’t impressed by much in the first place.

She strides off in a fit that is, perhaps, more influenced by her six-year-old emotional control than she’d like to admit. Ahsoka lets her. It’s not worth the argument.

It’s only a few minutes later that Fett strides in, takes the seat Leia was just in, and asks, “What would it take for you to teach me how to use a jetii’kad?”

She blinks at him. “You want to learn how to use a lightsaber?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

“Viszla.”

“I see.”

She does.

Ahsoka taps her fingers against the table, eyeing him with the kind of interest she copied from Master Kenobi, years ago. Fett doesn’t fidget, but she thinks he might want to. He just looks back, waiting for her judgement.

“You’ll need to justify it,” she finally says. “It’s a significant difference from what you actually did, so I need to know your reasoning for doing it, and your plans for once it’s done.”

“That’s all?”

“That’s step one,” she corrects. She tilts her head, considering. “My standards for you aren’t built in a vacuum, and you know that. Explain to me what you plan to do and how you plan to do it, and if I approve...”

“You’ll help me achieve it.”

“Maybe,” she allows. “A lot of that depends on Rex.”

“I expected as much,” Fett says. “He is... an admittedly large part of the reason.”

“He would be,” she says. She gives the silence a few more seconds to sit awkwardly between them, and then stands up. “I’d guess you’ve been brainstorming already. Do you have it written down or is it mostly just in your head so far?”

“I’m still... debating options, so to speak.”

She grins, and the shape of the predator’s smile, the baring of teeth... that almost makes him step back. She can see it in the twitch of his muscles. Smart man.

“Follow me,” she says, and doesn’t wait for him to stand. She strides out with tooka-light steps, hears the heavy beskar tread behind her, and goes to the cargo hold. Fett’s confusion grows tangibly behind her, especially when she tosses him a wooden quarterstaff. She picks up the other and spins it in one hand.

“You’re going to fight me,” she tells him, stretching and letting the staff help with the process. “And while we fight, you’re going to tell me what your plans for Mandalore are.”

He mimics her, but there’s a frown on his face. “And why staffs?”

“You and I, we’ve only sparred bare-handed,” she says. “I need a feel for how you fight with a weapon anyway. These are a good start.”

“Not the beskad?”

She grins, and the twitch is back. “No. That can wait. We start with the staffs.”

He takes a stance, and she mirrors him. She lets him strike first with a weapon, but she’s the one that asks all the questions.

(He is the only one on the ship that can fight her one-on-one right now, and he can win. Still, she makes him work for every inch, and what she doesn’t win in bruises, she wins in words.)

(Fett might yet be a proper Mand’alor, but Ahsoka learned war from her brothers, negotiation at the knee of a general and in the shadow of a prince, and government at the side of duchesses and queens.)

(If he wants her help uniting his people, he needs to prove that he can hold them together once she’s gone.)

---------------------------

Ahsoka’s interrogation of Jango’s plans is thorough, and she’s not the only one involved. She brings Leia in, and has her join in on the grilling. She maybe laughs as the twenty-seven-year-old survivor of Galidraan, the Mand’alor, a man who has killed Master Jedi with his bare hands, gets lectured on various government structures by a tiny girl that's missing several teeth and needs to sit on books to see the table properly.

Still, Leia knows this better than any of the rest of them do. The girl might have grown up heir to a monarchy, but she got a classical education and was drilled on democracy and all associated forms of government. Where Ahsoka knows military protocol and law enforcement, intersystem relations and defensive measures, Leia knows agricultural subsidies and welfare programs, infrastructure and education.

Ahsoka may know how to find out if someone’s breaking a zoning law, but Leia knows why it exists in the first place.

“And I grew up in a cult,” Rex says, when an argument on that topic breaks out. Everyone that hasn’t heard the joke-that-isn’t-a-joke stares at him. “The Jedi grew up in a religious meritocracy; Leia grew up in a monarchy; and I grew up in a cult.”

Ahsoka elbows him. He’s not wrong, but still.

Unfortunately, Ahsoka is about forty-seven percent sure that Leia will put her foot in her mouth when it comes to Mandalorian culture, blunt as the girl is. That prefrontal cortex isn’t anywhere near as developed as it should be, either, so impulse control for the princess isn’t great. Ahsoka refuses to let Leia and Fett talk about ways to mend the breaks between tradition and the pacifism of the New Mandalorians without either Rex or Ahsoka herself as a mediating presence. Tholme sits in a few times, but while he knows that Leia isn’t really six--though not about the time-travel, yet--Quinlan doesn’t.

They admittedly end up doing this while he’s on Maul-sitting duty.

“It’s like he doesn’t even care about making nice with the people that, at this point, make up the majority of his people!” Leia grumbles one night, as Ahsoka kicks over a step stool so the girl can brush her teeth. “He may not like the New Mandalorians, but from what I understand, it’s still early enough to prevent the majority of the cultural bleaching you brought up. If he stays this stubborn--”

“Leia,” Ahsoka says, and the girl’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m aware of your reasons for not trusting his intentions. But if I may say? Chill.”

“He’s not even trying!”

“He’s trying a hell of a lot harder than he did in the original timeline,” Ahsoka reminds her. “Brush your teeth.”

“I’m not a--”

“Teeth.”

It’s a little worrying, how the child’s brain affects Leia, but... well. That’ll pass in time, hopefully. Until then, Ahsoka gets to be the aunt she should have been. This includes tucking Leia in, which the girl grumbles about despite the fond waves of comfort that enter the Force around her. Ahsoka doesn’t call her out on it, just brushes back wisps of hair to plant a kiss on Leia’s forehead, and then does the same once Rex stumbles in, grumbling about the limitations of a cadet’s body, but far more ready to follow the protocol that is bedtime.

Rex doesn’t pretend to not like getting tucked in, for all that he’s sharing with a grumbly, already-asleep princess. He smiles up at Ahsoka, lets her hug him, and pretends they can be a normal family for five seconds.

Quinlan’s making a late night snack for himself in the galley. Tholme is guarding the Baby Sith. Fett...

Ahsoka goes to the cockpit, takes the copilot’s seat, and watches hyperspace pass them by.

It takes long minutes before either of them say anything.

“Do Jedi believe in souls?”

His shields are up, locked up tighter than the innermost chambers of the Imperial Palace. She has no idea where he’s taking this question. She has to cast about for an answer.

“That depends on how you define a soul,” she finally says. “Leia told me about Force Ghosts. A Jedi Master who underwent the right meditations and training could pass into the Force upon their death without losing their sense of self. They could remain themselves, to an extent, and interact with force-sensitive individuals. I don’t know if they could last that way indefinitely, but depending on your definition, I could argue those ghosts were evidence of a form of soul.”

“So you believe that the dead pass into the Force, but that what passes could be a soul. Something must exist for a sense of self to disappear at death in a way that impacts the Force as you understand it, and many would use the word ‘soul’ for that something.”

“Mm,” Ahsoka considers it. “I’d say that’s pretty accurate. You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“What about those not yet born?”

Her fingers feel cold, and she finds herself no longer able to watch the passage of hyperspace as passively as she had, and her eyes catch on streaks and motes of what is not dust, her vision unable to keep any more still than her heart.

“Oh,” she hears herself say. “The clones.”

It’s a long time before he answers, but the walls come down. He carries a confused sort of grief with him, guilty and a mite resentful. His questions have been building for longer than she’d thought. His voice is rough. “I’ve taken plenty of lives, but I’ve never known the name of someone I erased from existence before they were even born.”

“The stories we told Leia about the brothers.”

There’s a grunt of agreement from Fett, so those dots at least connect.

“I take it my answer wasn’t helpful,” she manages to say.

“Will they still exist?” Fett asks. “Will they be born elsewhere? Or is... is a soul something that only comes into existence after the body does?”

“I have no idea,” Ahsoka admits. “I want... I want to think that I’d be able to find them eventually, to recognize them, if their souls are still born into this world elsewhere.”

“And if your Sith finds someone else to build his army out of?”

Ahsoka looks at him, sharp and pointed. “You wouldn’t.”

“They’ll be doing it anyway, if their plans are as ironclad as you say.”

“You’re already associating with Jedi,” Ahsoka says, fighting the urge to break his nose. “They wouldn’t approach you, not now. They can’t leverage your anger against you. They won’t know everything, but they’ll know that you have friends among the Jedi.”

“You think they can’t come up with better lies?”

He has a point. He has more than one point and she hate hate hates it.

A Jedi does not hate.

I am no Jedi.

“You’re going to have to convince me,” she says. “Especially if you want to somehow balance this with the darksaber thing. I won’t teach you how to fight with it if you’re not planning to retake Mandalore.”

“That’s how they’d sell it,” he says. “Retaking Mandalore. An army ostensibly for the Jedi, and ultimately...”

“You’d build an army of slaves.”

“No, I’d be the inside man for when they build that army anyway.”

She holds his gaze. She looks away first.

“Torrent?”

“I’m thinking.”

He lets her.

“I’ll need to talk to Rex. Probably Leia.”

“Understandable.”

“I don’t like this.”

“I’m only just considering it. It’s an idea, not a plan.”

“That’s the only reason I haven’t ripped your throat out with my teeth.”

“Hyperbole doesn’t suit you.”

She glares at him, and leaves, her mind chopping up and laying out every possible angle on Fett volunteering to do the exact same thing as last time, but somehow worse.

Great. Just what she needed.

---------------------------

Ahsoka isn’t there for the shouting match between Rex and Fett, but she doesn’t have to be. She can hear it form clear across the ship, and Rex comes to her afterwars. He’s been crying, which isn’t as surprising as it could be. These bodies are still prone to such things, and will be for years. She doesn’t comment.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks.

“We need to take out Sidious before he starts anything on Kamino.”

“Agreed,” she says. “It’ll be hard, though.”

“I don’t care.”

“What did Fett say?”

“That if it wasn’t going to be my brothers, it would be someone else’s. Either we stopped the cloning from happening at all, or we mitigated damage by being there.”

“I don’t think Sidious is going to tap him for it,” Ahsoka admits. “Not unless you’re willing to stage that kind of fight publicly enough for Fett to claim the Jedi poisoned you, family, against him. It could work, but it’s a gamble.”

He knows all of this.

“I miss them,” he says, and she cards her fingers though the curls he’s managed to grow in the past weeks. “I just... even at the end, I had Wolffe. I knew Boba was out there; I wouldn’t be surprised if the beskar let him survive a Sarlacc. I had brothers. Not as many as I used to, but there was always someone. I miss them all, so much it hurts.”

“It wouldn’t be them,” she reminds him. She pulls him closer, puts her cheek to his head. “It would be the same process, the same faces, the same training, even, but the boys themselves...”

He clings to her and shudders.

“Rex?”

“I can’t force them to grow up the way I did. I want them back. Sidious is going to make the army no matter what. Someone’s going to suffer, and I don’t want it to be my brothers, but they won’t exist otherwise, and...”

“And it’s an impossible choice,” she summarizes. “And it sucks.”

“It’s sucks Gungan balls, ‘Soka.”

She laughs, and feels him smile against her shoulder. Good. He needs to smile more.

“He’s still trying to get me to like him,” Rex says. "He’s still making an effort, and he never did that for anyone except Boba, and it’s weird. I don’t know what to do with any of that.”

“Gain a brother,” Ahsoka whispers, and she feels him jerk against her. “If that’s what you want.”

“He’s not vod.”

“Same blood as all the rest, and you’re older than him, so he’s not really in a position to be a parent to you like he was to Boba,” she says carefully. “You don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to, but... I think he’s trying. I think this means a lot to him, and that he isn’t any more sure of what to do than you are. You don’t have to forgive him for what he did in the future, you don’t have to accept when he reaches out, you don’t have to ever talk to him again after we reach Coruscant if you don’t want, but I think... I think it’s worth at least considering what you have to gain. I think it’s worth looking at what he’s trying to give you.”

Rex huffs. “Why couldn’t he just be the shabuir I knew in training?”

“Something happened between now and then?” she offers. “I don’t know. I never met him in the original timeline. I just know the guy that keeps trying to get on my good side so you’ll like him.”

He outright scoffs. “Soka, that’s not the only reason he’s trying to get on your good side.”

“...I’m a former Jedi who talks trash to his face,” she says slowly. “And I cried on him. There is no reason for him to be nice to me, other than you.”

“He thinks you’re cool and a good person and wants you to be his friend.”

“Bantha poodoo.”

Rex grins in a way that goes straight to smirking. “Soka, I’m not joking. Jango Fett wants you to be his friend.”

“Kriffing why?” she asks, more than a little horrified. “I’m a mess, look like I’m ten years younger than him, have gleefully kicked his ass in front of an audience; I even told Vos to throw him at a baby Sith Lord. Putting up with me is one thing, but I’m... I’m only barely not a Jedi. I’m a historical enemy of Mandalore, and part of the community he hates more than anything, and--”

“And his reaction to you kicking his ass was pure Mando,” Rex says. “In that he now thinks you’re a badass, and thus worth being friends with.”

“I can’t believe that. I physically cannot.”

“Soka, just accept it. The Mand’alor wants to be friends with you.” He scratches at his scalp. “I mean, he met you while you were protecting what appeared to be children, and it’s apparently still early enough for him to care about that.”

She leans back in her seat, eyes on the wall ahead of her and back against the cool metal of the other side. Rex falls back with her. She wonders if Rex changed the subject so they didn’t have to talk about deciding how many of his brothers get to exist, and whether or not he can swallow the bitterness of his history to have a connection with at least one member of his blood. She doesn’t ask. If he wants to change the subject, that’s his right.

“I don’t... no.” She denies it as well as she can, and then the implications dig a little deeper. “Is this me accidentally signing up to be the Jedi Order’s official liaison to the Mand’alor?”

“I mean, this point in time... they’ve got Kenobi for the Duchess, yeah?” Rex shrugs. “Good relations with the system are probably a good thing, and you’ve got a stronger connection than Tholme and Vos.”

“Ugh,” she says. She rubs a hand against her head, and then lurches to her feet. “Fine! Fine. If it’ll get him to retake Mandalore before the Sith decide to bribe him with an army he doesn’t get to keep, I’ll teach him how to fight for the kriffin’ Darksaber.”

“That’s what makes the decision for you?”

“Well something had to!”

They only get one lesson in before Coruscant, but the lesson lasts a full day, and Ahsoka’s got his comm number. Fett’s a quick learner anyway, and Tholme was there to give pointers where Ahsoka couldn’t.

He won��t measure up to a Jedi in saber-to-saber combat, but he doesn’t need to. He just needs to learn enough to turn all those skills with a beskad to something that works with a jetii’kad.

(The balance of a saber is wrong to those used to a physical weapon. The inertia doesn’t work the way anyone expects. There’s no need to worry about damaging the blade.)

(Fett is good. Ahsoka is better. And, bless his heart, he knows it.)

(She will mold him into the shape of someone who not only can, but should rule a system with a history like that, and he damn well knows that too.)

---------------------------

“Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus twenty seconds.”

The Slave I is not, in fact, a Venator-class starship, or anything else near the size and smoothness of the ships that Ahsoka grew up on. This is a bounty hunter’s vessel, and the drop to real space jolts like nothing else. Ahsoka’s in the copilot seat for the return, but Tholme’s going to swap with her as soon as they’ve got confirmation that there were no problems with exiting hyperspace, and nobody’s shooting at them.

“We’re not going to get shot at,” Tholme had assured her.

“I always get shot at,” she’d told him.

“I have our clearance,” he reminded her, seeming more amused than frustrated. “There’s no need to worry about getting shot at.”

“I also always get shot at,” Jango had thrown in.

“Okay,” Tholme had allowed, after several minutes of his trust in the Temple warring against Ahsoka and Jango’s learned paranoia. The looks Quinlan had darted around the room when Leia and Rex also claimed ‘chronic getting-shot-at disease’ had been a treat. The paranoia of a Watchman and a future Shadow was great, but the paranoia of three revolutionaries and a galaxy-wide criminal was greater. “You can take us in close enough to get in radio contact, but the second we have to ask for clearance and a vector, I’m in the seat.”

She’d agreed, of course. She was paranoid, not inexperienced.

“We’re much less likely to get shot down by ground control if you tell them we’re with you,” she’d said, to his hilariously apparent metaphysical exhaustion. “Obviously.”

“Good enough,” he’d sighed.

What that means is mostly just that Ahsoka gets to watch the distant star at the center of Coruscant’s system grow rapidly brighter. She can pick out the constellations she’d grown up with, the stars the creche had projected on the ceiling every night, the ones that she may not have seen from the surface, but had greeted her and then sent her on her way every time she left on yet another campaign that lost her men their lives for a Sith Lord's wretched plans. These were the shapes and stories she’d never seen again as Fulcrum, a woman so hunted that to come within a dozen subsectors of the planet was to court her death.

For sixteen years, she hadn’t ventured closer than Alderaan, save for a single trip to Chandrila.

And now, maybe twenty minutes away at this speed, was the Temple. It was home.

A home that didn’t know her, that had sentenced her to death, that had hosted the rampage of her former master... but home nonetheless.

“Stable?” Fett grunts.

“Thrusters are good,” she confirms.

“I meant you.”

Ah. “I’m... fine. As good as I could be, anyway.”

She hesitates, but manages to speak before he does. “You?”

“I’m not the one walking into an entire building of triggers.”

“Only because you’re not entering it,” she says. “It’s the home of your ancestral enemies who, bad info or no, killed off a whole lot of your friends.”

“I get to leave,” he says. “You don’t.”

She plans to needle him a bit more, maybe on something a little less based in both their traumas. She needs to talk, if only to fill up the silence and keep herself from reaching out to all the lights in the Force. It’ll be too much, she knows.

Tholme enters the cockpit. “Change of plans.”

“Better be a good reason,” Jango says, voice flat.

“Leia’s crying.”

Ahsoka’s unbuckling herself before she can process the words fully. “What?”

Leia doesn’t cry for no reason. Her emotional control is as difficult as the body makes it, but she doesn’t just cry. There’s always a cause.

“I don’t know. Rex said to get you,” Tholme explains. “She was saying a name. He seemed to recognize it.”

Not good not good not good. If Leia was feeling the Emper--No. She cuts the thought off there. No catastrophizing. Information first.

“What name.”

“Luke. Mean anything to--and she’s gone.”

Ahsoka ignores him, just sprints to where she knows the ‘young ones’ are. They’re all in Maul’s room, because nobody wants to be alone with him now, but it’s the worst time to leave him without supervision. It’s not the worst option; he mostly refuses to talk, still.

This holds true, because he definitely isn’t talking when she bursts in. He’s sitting on the bench, in a corner, hugging his knees and watching Quinlan try to calm Leia down.

“Captain, sitrep.”

“Vos and Tholme attempted to show Leia how to reach out to feel the Temple from a distance. They felt that it would be a good use of the time, and an interesting exercise at this distance. She attempted to do so, struggled for several minutes, and then reacted with shock. She has repeated the name ‘Luke’ several times since then, and we’ve been unable to fully calm her down. I asked Tholme to get you, as you are the only Force-Sensitive on board that understands the situation in full.”

“Understood.” She nods to him, and then goes to nudge at Quinlan. “Vos, move.”

“Torre--”

“You can sit behind her, hold her in your lap like you did when we had lunch the other day, but I need to get in her face.” She waits for him to comply, and then drops to her knees and takes Leia’s hands in her own. She radiates calm and assurance, even though she knows Quinlan’s probably been doing the same since this started. She dips her head enough to get in the girl’s line of sight, waits for her to meet eyes.

“Princess,” she says, and meets Leia’s eyes. “What did you feel?”

“Luke.”

From this distance... they’ve got half the system to go, at least, and Leia’s training shouldn’t reach that far for anything more than the fact that the Temple is there. Ahsoka could feel unshielded individuals from here, if she focused, but she’s also been doing this much, much longer. The twins theory holds more water than ever.

“Can you show me?” Ahsoka asks, instead of asking for more clarification. She squeezes Leia’s hands and smiles. “In the Force?”

Leia nods, and closes her eyes. It’s not the first time they’ve done this, but it’s the first time in a while that Leia’s needed Ahsoka to guide her through.

Luke’s light, for all that it’s unfamiliar to Ahsoka, is brilliant among the rest of the signatures in Coruscant. Like Anakin and Leia, he’s a star in his own right, but he’s brighter. He doesn’t have Anakin’s bitterness or Leia’s righteous anger, just... light. Ahsoka had asked Leia to show her instead of looking for herself because she’d expected to not recognize the boy, but she needn’t have. He’s unmistakable.

He’s so bright that she almost misses the other signature that she does recognize. She shies away, knowing that it would be there, but... but it’s almost twinned with another nearby. Not identical, but different in a way that comes with age, with trauma, with... death.

Leia hadn’t arrived alone, after all.

Why would Luke?

Her eyes snap open, her hand coming up not-quite-fast enough to clap over her mouth as she gasps. She feels a shudder, one that starts in her shoulders and reaches deep into her ribcage, finds a home in her chest and doesn’t stop.

“Oh fuck,” Quinlan whispers. “Torrent? Um, Sokari?”

Rex steps closer. “Commander?”

“That shabuir faked his death again,” she manages. “Three times, Rex!”

He blinks at her. “...I know way too many people who fit that description, Soka.”

“Master Ke--” she cuts herself off. He might have changed his name, just like she had. There’s already an Obi-Wan here. Rex seems to be figuring it out, but she needs to give him another hint.

“He pulled a Hardeen,” she stresses, and Rex’s eyes snap shut with a tired groan.

“Who?” Leia asks, her own tumult of emotion paused in the wake of Ahsoka’s shock. There’s a hope and relief to her, and Ahsoka belatedly realizes that her main worry had been that she’d misidentified what was going on, that she’d given herself a false hope. Ahsoka’s internal reaction, her approval and awe at Luke’s presence, had trickled over enough to give Leia the reassurance she’d needed.

Unintentional as it was, Ahsoka was glad that she’d succeeded in helping her charge.

“Er...” she trails off. “I don’t know what name he’s going by, right now. We’ve spent so long in hiding...”

“The man Luke knew as Crazy Old Ben,” Rex says, and Leia’s eyes light up.

“Oh,” she breathes. “General O--no, names. The High General, then.”

“Yeah,” Ahsoka says, not a little soft. “Yeah, I guess death didn’t stop him any more than it stopped me.”

“I could have told you that,” Leia says, smiling far too widely. She squirms where she still sits on Quinlan’s lap. “He was... he taught you, right?”

“As much my master as the official one,” Ahsoka says. She glances as Quinlan, feels Maul’s gaze on the back of her head. “Your f... my official master was very young when I was assigned to him. He wasn’t ready to teach, wasn’t even ready to be a knight, entirely, so my training was split between him and his master.”

Quinlan pops in at that moment, “Your grandmaster was military, too?”

We all were, she thinks. Even you, in your own way.

“I landed in their care mid-battle,” she says carefully. “It was a complicated situation.”

He nods, and she vaguely notes that he’s got his arms wrapped around Leia, and his chin tucked on top of her head. She isn’t sure if Leia’s noticed, but Quinlan’s picked up ‘baby’-sitting duty so often recently that she’s fairly certain he’s all but declared her ‘little-sister shaped.’ It doesn’t matter that Leia’s older--she’s still taking the juice boxes and gummy snacks that Quinlan shoves at her every single snacktime.

“Do you think...” Rex trails off, something uncomfortable twisting in the Force, even though his face keeps it mostly hidden. “My brothers. If the General survived and... and made it back...”

“I didn’t feel any,” Ahsoka says, because she knows she’d have noticed if it was anyone she’d met, and likely any clone at all. They all felt different in the Force, but they all held a spark that made her know it was one of them. “I’m sorry, Rex’ika.”

“A long shot,” he says, that dash of hope shriveling up. He must see something in her face, because there’s a curl of warmth in him, even if his smile is brittle. “It’s fine, really. I have you, ‘Soka.”

Rex and Ahsoka. Two halves of one whole.

She can’t wait to hear the lectures on attachment, the way people who haven’t seen her wars try to criticize her for clinging to any chance at still having a will to live. She can’t wait to see them justify telling her that it’s selfish to hold her sanity in her hands and refuse to let the grief take it away. She can’t wait to stare someone down for asking her to ‘learn to let go’ after she’s lost her family, her life, her universe three times over.

Most of the Jedi are more sensible than that, are reasonable enough to see those shades of grey and how to approach rules in the spirit they are meant instead of the rigid letter, but there will be some.

There will be more than enough telling her she is wrong to hold her oldest, closest, best friend as dear as she can.

Attachment, they’ll say.

What they’ll mean is ‘codepedence.’

They won’t be entirely wrong.

She reaches out for him, lets him fall into her side and stay there, closes her eyes and reaches out for the man she’d long called father, when they’d still been in each other’s lives.

This time, past the deafening flare of surprise-love-hope of the little star next to him, she can feel him reach back.

---------------------------

The second the ship has landed, even before Tholme and Fett are done with the checks, Ahsoka’s waiting at the exit. She strains her hearing so she’ll know the second the system will let her open the massive door of the cargo hold.

Leia clings to her side, and the boys stand to her back.

Quinlan’s stressed enough that she can feel it like a cloud. She is very much not trying to feel that stress. Quinlan’s stress levels, back where he’s got Maul so he can keep an eye on Ahsoka and the Baby Sith at the same time, are so low on her priorities list that it’s a a little sad.

It doesn’t take long for her to be able to punch the button and open the damn door.

It opens slowly. She bounces on her toes, because there’s a beacon of light and a steady, familiar glow on the other side, and she’s so, so close. She can’t see through the crack yet, because it’s day in this part of Coruscant, and the sunlight is blinding against the dark of the hold. So close. She’s so close.

“The hell’s wrong with you?”

Fett? Fett. He’s already here to get off? This door’s slow.

She doesn’t answer him, because the door is finally open enough to let her out, and she leaps through the gap.

She lands on a pourstone floor, feels pebbles and grit compress under her boots, frantically looks around as her eyes adjust to light and--

The High General, the Negotiator, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, looking just as he did when she first met him, if a little less armored and a little more fed. The hair, the beard, the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. His spirit is a little older, his smile a little more strained, his posture a little more tired, but it’s him.

He spreads his arms, low enough that she could have dismissed it if she’d cared less for hugs, except she’s almost as small as she was when they met.

And every other hug she’d given back then had been, functionally, her being a living missile aiming her montrals for someone’s organs.

She’s a little more aware of how to avoid stabbing her friends in the intestine now.

“Master!”

She sprints for him, collides and sobs, feels him stumble back and then sink to his knees on the too-hard floor, and can feel the tears pouring out of her already. Her breath hitches, and she wails like a child, and that last part of her that couldn’t even grasp at safety shreds itself. His arms are tight around her, warm and strong and Master Kenobi don’t you dare leave again.

It doesn’t matter that Sidious is out there, that the Republic’s been building towards war for a century, that even now someone’s kicking up the Trade Federation. Her dad is here.

“I’ve missed you too, my dear,” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of her head, the bristles of his beard scratching along the skin of her forehead. Off to the side, the binary suns that are Luke and Leia grow brighter in proximity, so bright she can barely bear it.

(“Fett, why the kriff are you reaching for your blaster?!”)

(“Torrent said her master tried to kill her.”)

(“Different guy, that was a different guy, put the blaster away.”)

(“You could have just warned me.”)

(“I didn’t expect you to go for a shot on sight!”)

(”Calm down, Jetiika, if I was going to shoot on sight, we’d already be in a firefight.”)

She ignores everything.

“If you fake your death one more time, I swear I’m going to kill you myself.”

He tries to pull away to talk to her more directly. She does not let him. He apparently resigns himself to this, because he just adjusts how he’s sitting and pulls her in closer.

“In my defense, I was far from the only one presumed dead that took advantage of that status, by the end,” he says, letting her slump into his lap and cry herself dry. “I’m proud of you. You know that, I hope.”

She nods against his chest, smearing tears and snot across the linen and wool. She doesn’t care that they’ll need a thorough washing. She can have her public breakdown and it’s fine because Master Kenobi is here.

He doesn’t even know what she’s spent the past fifteen years doing. Luke wouldn’t have known. He doesn’t know she’s thirty-two and broken, beyond a shadow and cut down by her own master. There’s so much he doesn’t know but the Force rings with the truth of it: he’s proud of her anyway.

“I’m going by Ben, now,” he mutters against her montral. “There’s already an Obi-Wan here, after all. Still, I remain a Kenobi.”

She can’t make the words come out of her mouth. She’s overwhelmed, so much so that speech is a mite bit beyond her.

Sokari Torrent, she presses along the frayed bond that’s knitting itself back to life with every breath they take. Leia was already calling me Auntie Soka, and Rex and I both took Torrent, for...

“For the men you lost,” he mutters. “Yes, that’s fitting.”

He smells like sapir tea and a spiced beard oil.

There’s a whirl of activity about her, greetings and ‘a Sith apprentice?’ and introductions. She distantly notes when Fett almost shoots Dooku before Rex shuts that down and advises the Master to leave the area before things spiral out of control. She feels Ben stand, and she stands with him, clings to his side like a child and trusts that whatever happens, whatever needs to happen, he’ll take care of it until she can stand on her own two feet without swaying.

Rex grabs her free hand, and she feels herself settle back into her skin, bit by bit.

She’s back at the Temple. The twins are safe. Her grandmaster is here. She has her other half.

They can save the galaxy this time.

She’s alive she’s home she’s okay.

She’s okay.

Everything’s going to be okay.

#Ahsoka Tano #Captain Rex #Leia Organa #Jango Fett #rex and ahsoka #Quinlan Vos #Tholme #Depa Billaba #Obi Wan Kenobi #Ben Kenobi #Maul #Darth Maul #time travel #de aging #ptsd #trauma #child soldiers #Phoenix Files #Uncle Ben and Little Luke #Auntie Soka and Little Leia #disaster lineage

[vintageseawitch]

severus snape was not just a bully he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike other characters' attitudes 🙏🙏🙏 what the fuck how are you pro-snape

hmmm. i feel there's an extremely back-handed compliment here. are you a lurker? are we mutuals? do i follow you or do you follow me? whatever the capacity, it feels silly to ask, but: are you new here? my bio, though novella in length because keeping things in a tiny, succinct packages is not my forte, clearly states at some point that Severus Snape is important enough to me to be mentioned a considerable amount. i'll be very sad if i follow you & enjoy the content you post because tbh this anon is super disappointing. the most common types i tend to receive are snaters who are too cowardly to tell me to my face they have nothing better to do than judge people doing the least harmful thing imaginable: loving/liking/appreciating a controversial, FICTIONAL FUCKING CHARACTER.

"he was a literal racist and that did not change over the years unlike the other characters' attitudes" ummm fucking WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT. what canon evidence do you have for this except your own warped headcanons?? Snape said the word "mudblood" fucking ONCE, as a teenage boy, while getting sexually assaulted by more than one person, in public, with no one there attempting to stop them. then Snape's one friend tries to defend him & Snape snaps something stupid because he was afraid & pissed off & ashamed. don't tell me YOU'VE never said something you're later ashamed of while in a temper or feeling cornered. don't tell me YOU'RE not allowed to make mistakes. that's right, it was a mistake, & he realized immediately so he tried to fix it & in the end his friendship wasn't worth it to her so he was alone, surrounded by people who won't help him, who let some other teenage boys get away with attempted murder, & adults who don't give a shit about him making him ripe for plucking. Snape fucking CRINGES then yells at Phineas Nigellus for calling Hermione that while the trio's on the run & Snape is an unwilling headmaster!!! have you forgotten this???? if anyone is racist it's Molly Weasley for her treatment of Fleur which was never given a legit reason why she behaved the way she did. i don't even want to try to count how many times Draco Malfoy calls Hermione a mudblood; are you harassing people with hateful anons for liking Draco? is he somehow more deserving of a redemption than Severus? if you think that, go fuck yourself.

Severus Snape made a mistake when he was very young. he was alone, traumatized, full of bitterness & anger. he first came over to the side of the light for selfish reasons but then so did Regulus & Narcissa & i never see people attacking THEM. Snape made a mistake & worked to atone for this & for 17 years most take for granted he was the puppet for two megalomaniacal masters, neither of whom gave a damn about his life (Dumbledore was worse in SO many ways). in the end, it seems like snaters feel like no matter what you do, no matter what is in your heart & everything you do to try to make it right, your mistake will always define you & death is all you deserve soduspsjapxjosn FUCK THIS SHIT. FUCK ANYONE WHO BELIEVES THIS.

"Severus Snape was not just a bully" yeah you're right he was also honorable, good-at-heart, brave as fuck, fucking brilliant, & while sharp-edged, was dryly hilarious. also, don't you get tired of this same fucking "argument"?? because Snape wasn't the only bully in canon. Molly Weasley is one. so is Dumbledore. so is Hermione. so is Draco, Crabbe, & Goyle. SO WERE THE MARAUDERS. Peter Pettigrew turned out to be one of the worst; do you ever anonymously bully anyone for liking them if they do? while not counting for taste, if anyone DOES like his character, IT'S NOT. MY FUCKING. BUSINESS. nobody is hurting me for liking that character. i am not hurting YOU for liking a character. it's just easier for you to pull this fucking performative, fake-woke, absolutely repulsive purity-culture enabling bullshit than to speak up about things that fucking ACTUALLY MATTER.

do you want to know some characters i like that are ACTUALLY disturbing/toxic/any negative thing you can think of?? i like Acton from the Doyle & Acton New Scotland Yard book series by Anne Cleeland & he is a LITERAL FUCKING STALKER who plays vigilante & takes advantage of his privilege to get away with his crimes lmao. i like Father Konstantin from the Winternight Trilogy even though (or maybe because of is more accurate) he's a younger, prettier, blonder Frollo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame with his behavior towards Vasya who is very much an Esmeralda parallel. it drew me in immediately, their dynamic in that trilogy; so poisonous & twisted & depraved was his obsession with her but it was so PASSIONATE i couldn't look away. i like Krennic from Rogue One: A Star Wars Story. if you've seen it, he's the smol, angry man who thinks seeing a planet with historical Jedi sites get destroyed by a previously unknown super weapon is BEAUTIFUL. he has no qualms against forcing someone against his will back to helping to build this weapon, even if it meant killing his family.

so there are just a few that i can think of at the moment who are considerably darker than mere shades of grey; do you send hateful anons to people who like Darth Vader? what about Sauron? Morgoth? what if someone likes VOLDEMORT?????? omg (spoiler alert: they exist, & some have created some of the best hp fanart i've seen, but that's not the point right now). do you attack people for liking other morally grey characters like Kylo Ren/Ben Solo or Lestat? snaters are pathetic. if you don't like Snape, that's perfectly fine; it would just be really cool if you can take your toxic, purity culture mentality & if unable to shove it up your ass at least go haunt the places dedicated to bland, rich white boy bully-loving spaces. go on with your horrid belief that all people who are enduring trauma are only allowed to process/handle it in a set way otherwise they are the Worst Person To Exist (or... not, in this instance, seeing as Severus Snape is a FICTIONAL. FUCKING. CHARACTER). do you not realize this says so much to people in your own life who may see some similarities between themselves & a character you believe makes you a superior entity for hating & judging?? do you not give people you care about another chance after making a mistake???

i'd rather continue loving this prickly, snarky asshole than attempt to "earn your good opinion" or some fucking similar codswallop thank you VERY much. cheerio & all that, & i hope you're able to find something to do you enjoy that doesn't involve judging people for things that really don't matter. if you have an issue with what i post you can always unfollow/block me. complicated controversial comfort characters make for better things to think about than fake wokeness. toodles~

#anon #Snape #Professor Snape #Severus Snape #gtfo snaters #this is not a marauder safe space #there WILL be marauder bashing #i love my feral northern boy #i love my fav morally grey characters #Acton #Lord Acton #Doyle and Acton #Anne Cleeland #Father Konstantin #Vasya #The Winternight Trilogy #Krennic #Orson Krennic #Rogue One #Rogue One A Star Wars Story #Ben Solo #Kylo Ren #pro Ben Solo #pro Kylo Ren #anons like these are the epitome of cowardice #gtfo with your asinine purity culture #morally gret character supremacy

[grumpyhedgehogs]

our bones are old but this tragedy is so new

Summary: Ahsoka takes Cody to Rex. Cody gives Rex a gift. AO3.  Part 3 of the “scraps” series. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5. Warnings: Canonical character death, discussions of death and suicide. 

Cody has not seen his own face for years. He knows he looks very different. He’s grown old faster than he should have and the Kaminoans messed with the clones’ genes too much and for too long for the Empire to see reversing the advanced aging process as economically viable. He still thinks he’s avoided the worst of it: his limbs aren’t twisted, his spine is straight, his shoulders don’t droop under exhaustion. He moves a little slower, a little stiffer. His hands are weaker than they used to be but they don’t tremble when he grips a blaster. He’s tired more often, sicker than he ever was when he manages to catch a bug, but that’s really all. He’ll die sooner than natborns, but Cody’s always known that. Besides, he’s outlived the one person he always hoped he’d die before; the only thing worse than going to Obi-Wan’s funeral is the fact there is no funeral at all. Old age, no matter how much he hates it, is pretty kind to Cody.

So it’s not something that bothered him until he’s seeing his reflection in Rex’s face.

“Since when did you get so old, little brother?” Cody wants to slap his own forehead as soon as the words are out of his mouth, but he can’t help it. Teasing Rex is second nature. Rex’s face twists comically, mouth working in complicated motions before he throws himself forward.

His brother’s arms around him are a balm Cody realizes he never wants to let go of. Rex is older too, and tougher, and bigger than Cody remembers. They hold on for a long time; Cody doesn’t feel any shame in tucking his face into Rex’s neck. He lets out a shuddering breath and Rex sighs against him, laying a heavy hand on the back of Cody’s neck. He knocks their foreheads together when he pulls back. Cody keeps ahold of his shoulder, sure he’ll disappear the second he lets go, just vanish into thin air. He’s seen others do it before, after all.

“ Kote .” Rex says, affectionate, awed. “ Kote .”

“Yes,” Cody agrees, a little wetly. “It’s me.” His brother’s hair is stark white. Ahsoka smiles at them over her shoulder before ducking discretely out of the room. Cody lets her go.

“I thought you were dead, Cody. Thank everything out there you’re not.”

Cody nods past the lump in his throat. Rex curls his fingers into the edges of Cody’s poncho, lifting the fabric to see the armor beneath. Cody doesn’t even realize he’s doing it when he reacts; he comes back to himself with a hand clamped around Rex’s wrist, squeezing too tight. Rex lifts a brow at him and slowly pulls back. “Sorry,” Cody apologizes. He almost starts shaking; he didn’t know he was doing it until it was done. He’d lost himself. He can’t-- “I’m sorry. Just. Please don’t touch this.”

Rex, the best vod in the entire batch, lets it go without comment. He nods at Cody’s chest. “You kept the trooper armor.”

Cody lays his hand over his sternum, where the insignia he’d made blazes across his cuirass . “With a few modifications. You’re suited up too. I didn’t want to be left out.”

Rex smiles. “Wouldn’t mind one of those designs myself.”

“It’s a good reminder.”

Rex’s arm is heavy and solid and comforting across his shoulders as they sit at the table in the small ship Ahsoka led Cody to when they'd gotten to this planet after a week's hyperspace travel. He’s sure she’s making changes to the navigation system somewhere; she’d told him she’d introduce him to the rebels she knew, people who could give him a job. But first she took him to Rex. Gratitude chokes Cody.  Still, the idea that someday in the near future he’ll get to pick off some Imperial officers makes his blood rush like it hasn’t since the last time the 212th got together.

Cody leans against his brother and breathes shallowly. He could sleep for a week; he’s been running on adrenaline and bad decisions, just keeping one step ahead of the Imps and following in his brother’s footsteps for weeks, maybe months now. He has Rex now. He has Ahsoka. Sleep wells up against the backs of his eyes but he forces it away; he might wake up and find this was all a dream.

“You could sleep here.” Rex was always too good at reading him. “I’d wake you if anything exciting happened.”

“In a little while. Just. Give me a minute.”

He fiddles with the edges of the robe to stay awake. For a few moments silence stretches between them like a warm blanket. Rex’s hand catches his. “What’s with this?”

“It’s...” Cody pulls away a little, clutching at a corner of the robe that drapes over his shoulder. He’s having a hard time meeting Rex’s eyes. “It’s his. Kenobi’s.”

“Oh. Oh, Cody .”

“Yeah,” Cody says tightly. His throat narrows to the width of a straw. “Yeah.”

Rex pauses delicately. “What happened?”

“I was still under, you know. Stationed on the Death Star with--with him. I think he liked seeing what happened to me. Like it--it gave him a thrill to see how much he’s taken from the Jedi.” How much he’s taken from Obi-Wan, Cody means. Rex nods jerkily and Cody remembers very suddenly that Skywalker used to be Rex’s general. He doesn’t have to wonder if Rex knows he’s Vader; Rex’s face is stony, his eyes smoldering. He knows. “Anyway, this princess from Alderaan, we picked her up after that fiasco on Scarif.”

“We lost a lot of good people in that battle,” Rex murmurs. Cody doesn’t doubt it. He’d seen the power it took to wipe that beach off the map. It makes him shudder just thinking about it.

“Yeah. So, this princess, she’s Organa’s daughter and she’s suspected of being a rebel. That’s confirmed now. She was being interrogated by Vader and some rebels, a small contingency, showed up to get her out.”

“They stormed Vader on his own turf?” He sounds vaguely impressed. “Why do I not like where this is headed?”

Cody swallows hard. “Because who do we both know who’s crazy enough to come up with a plan like facing Vader head on without backup?” Rex thinks for a split second and then curses vehemently. “Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said. Obi-Wan showed his face right when the rebels were about to get caught. I was--was one of the troopers shooting at them.”

“It wasn’t you,” Rex says. He shakes Cody’s shoulder when Cody refuses to look up from where he’s studying his hands. “It wasn’t you, Kote .”

“Sure.” Cody agrees, voice flat. His chest twinges but he continues. “So, Obi-Wan showed up and he must have sabotaged the ship’s system because the bay door opened and he held Vader off long enough for the rebels--three humans and a Wookie, and it looked like only one of the humans, this kid, actually knew Kenobi--to get away. But Vader--Vader killed him, Rex. It woke me up. He killed Obi-Wan right in front of me.”

He sits there, mouth cottony, throat clogged, eyes wet, and realizes he can’t breathe. His chest twinges again and now the pain won’t leave and his lungs burn but he can’t breathe. He’s struggling, cheeks soaked, but he can’t breathe and there are hands on his shoulders--they might be Rex, but they could be Obi-Wan’s, he used to hold Cody like this after a bad battle, it could be, it could--and he still can’t breathe but he can speak and he keep repeating it, repeating, “He killed him. He killed him. Right in front--in front of me, he killed him.”

It’s only when his head is shoved between his knees and held there that Cody starts to come back to himself. He taps at Rex’s knee until he lets up. Rex’s eyes are sharp and vigilant; one wrong move and Cody thinks he may get a hypo full of sedative to the throat. He hasn't had a good night’s sleep since Obi-Wan died, so he wouldn’t mind if it came down to that.

“You’re okay, Cody,” Rex murmurs, hand still on the back of his neck. “You’re okay.”

Cody says nothing, wiping at his sodden face as best he can. His chest still hitches with every breath.

“Kenobi--Obi-Wan was a good man,” Rex continues, and now his voice is tight too. He clears his throat gruffly. “He was a good friend and a fantastic general and the best Jedi, and I’m so, so sorry Cody.”

“I saw him die Rex. I tried to kill him when the Order went out.”

“It wasn’t you. You’re here now.”

“Do you--do you miss Skywalker, Rex?”

It’s a cheap shot, a low blow. Cody shouldn’t ask it. He does. Rex stiffens beside him but doesn’t pull away. “I miss who he was before he became what he is,” Rex whispers back. “But I--I worked with you and Kenobi for a long time too, Cody. I can’t miss him like you can, not when I know you loved him. But I can miss him with you, too.”

“I wanted to die with him.”

“I know. I wanted to die when I found out about Vader.”

Cody guesses that’s fair.

Obi-Wan would tell him this is healthy, that letting his grief out is the first step to getting rid of it. He’d give Cody tea, probably, and let him talk until it was all out, like expelling sickness from the body. He wouldn’t judge, just like Rex doesn’t judge. He’d hold Cody when he cries. He’d do all of that, if the Jedi weren’t dead, if the Republic weren’t dead, if Obi-Wan weren’t dead.

Cody blinks suddenly, and pulls away quickly. Rex startles but doesn’t draw back. He watches, bewildered, as Cody rummages through his rucksack. Beneath their feet, engines roar to life; Ahsoka’s getting ready for take-off, then. Making a small sound of triumph, Cody pulls something out of his pack and holds it aloft towards his brother.

Rex takes the scrap of fabric with both hands, gingerly, and looks to Cody for an explanation. “It’s his sleeve,” Cody tells him, hoarse still. The tears just keep coming back, so he doesn’t bother to wipe them away again. “Ahsoka’s got the other one. I’ve got the rest, obviously. He--he wasn’t your general, but you’re right. He was a good friend of the clones.”

“Cody…” Rex turns the cloth over and over in his palms. He holds it like something precious. Cody’s heart swells a little. When he looks up, Rex’s eyes are wide and overbright. “Are you sure?”

“You’re the only one who understands,” Cody says, honesty making him lightheaded. “The only one. I’d be honored. Obi-Wan would be too.”

Rex curls his hands into fists around the offering and nods, solemn. His face is old now, and weathered, and matches Cody down to the last detail. There are tears in his eyes as Rex answers in their mother tongue, “ I will carry it, always .”

Cody bites his lip, breathes in, out, in, and finishes the Mando’a phrase every clone knows as acknowledgement of a gift. “ May it give you strength in battle .”

“ May it protect us both ,” Rex amends, and Cody curls his hands around his brother’s. They hold the fabric together and let it begin to heal them, stitch by stitch.

#sw #tcw #rebels #star wars #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #codywan #cody sw #commander cody #rex sw #captain rex #ahsoka tano #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan fanfiction #obi wan #darth vader #the clone wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the original trilogy #the prequels #star wars movies #star wars series #my writing #sharing clothes

[lifblogs]

Angstpril 2021: Day 24 - Goodbyes

The Last Goodbye

read on ao3 1202 words prequels, the clone wars, anakin skywalker, canonical character death, loss, slavery mention, alcohol/drinking

Anakin’s life was filled with goodbyes. Goodbyes that were always out of his control. Why couldn’t he control it? Shouldn’t he be able to? Shouldn’t he be able to hold on to what he cared about?

Sometimes he’d been going through his day like normal, and then the clawing desperation would hit him, the grief, the loneliness, the knowing that everything was going to slip away from him yet again. It was what always happened.

~~~

Anakin was pretending to be asleep on his pallet in the room he shared with Obi-Wan on Coruscant. Coruscant was so different from Tatooine. So lively and noisy. He liked it. Anything was better than Tatooine.

But despite how much he liked it, and how much Obi-Wan (he couldn’t yet get himself to call him master) spent time with him day in and day out, he still hurt at night. That was when silence and emptiness took him, when he realized that… that Qui-Gon was gone. And that his mother— he’d never be able to see her again. He’d said goodbye, and he wondered how she’d even been able to do it.

He missed her.

“Anakin, are you alright?”

Anakin jumped at hearing Obi-Wan’s voice, and then propped himself up on his elbow.

“Sorry, I was just sleeping,” he lied.

Speeders passed by their window, and in the flashing lights Anakin could see the slight amusement on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Alright,” Anakin relented. “I was thinking about my mother.”

He sat up, positioning himself so he was cross-legged, and he resisted the urge to hug his blanket to himself. Obi-Wan came over from his pallet, and sat beside him. He didn’t put a hand on his shoulder like Qui-Gon might’ve, but Anakin still felt… something from Obi-Wan being closer. If he tried, he could feel a warmth coming from him, emotions and being that were becoming somewhat familiar.

“You miss her,” Obi-Wan stated, voice quiet and gentle in the night. “I understand.”

Anakin’s face twisted into a snarl. “No, you don’t. You didn’t have to leave your mother behind as a slave.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”

For a moment, he was taken aback at being told he was right. He, Anakin, the former slave boy from Tatooine was right?

“Just know that you can talk to me; I can try and help you. And whatever you’re feeling, the Force is there with you. As sentient beings, we have to say many goodbyes throughout our lives, and as Jedi, perhaps even moreso. But the Force flows through everything. No one’s ever really gone.”

“Even… even Qui-Gon?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan tensed, and then his shoulders raised with a large inhale.

“Perhaps even him. If you wish, we could go to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, meditate…” Anakin screwed up his face at the word meditate, and Obi-Wan quickly amended, “Or we could just walk, enjoy the views.” He leaned in, a conspiratorial grin alighting his face, “And I’m sure no one would be around to see us take a dip if we wanted to.”

Sudden excitement took him. Obi-Wan was suggesting breaking the rules?

“Really?”

“Yes, really.” He got up, and rubbed Anakin’s head. “Come on.”

~~~

His true goodbye to his mother had been too short. Or perhaps too long because of the mere fact that it existed. It shouldn’t have happened at all. She’d been free, for just a moment of her life, and then she’d been taken.

Anakin had hurt, so he made them hurt, and then Padmé had held him as he cried. Somehow she’d seen his grief, his anger, and she hadn’t run from it.

Anakin wanted to run from it.

How could this have happened? How could he have lost her? He’d already lost her once in his life, having to leave her behind, and now she was in the ground. Gone.

Too much happened all at once. Soon he was on Geonosis, the Clone Wars had started, he’d gotten married… And he vowed to not say goodbye to Padmé. He wouldn’t lose her too. Ever. So when he held her on their wedding night, and he joined with her, he never wanted to let her go.

To his great relief, she never wanted to let him go either.

~~~

The Jedi Temple was empty without Ahsoka. It was usually empty these days, what with the Jedi leading the Grand Army of the Republic, but without her, the silence within the vast halls was beyond count. So he stayed in his quarters, or he stayed with Padmé. He tried to volunteer for as many missions as possible, but now, he was worn out, and had ended up wandering into a bar. It was apparently one that was popular with the clones because at least half the patrons looked the same.

“Rough day?” a familiar voice asked, suddenly coming from Anakin’s right.

He turned, and saw Rex. The mere act of turning almost had him falling off his stool. Anakin berated himself. He should’ve sensed Rex coming over, but maybe he had the accarrgm to blame for that. Really, that drink wasn’t meant for humans, and the bartender had been surprised at Anakin asking for it, but he’d let him have some anyway.

Bad idea.

“You could say that,” Anakin managed to get out, having to think extra hard to get all the right words out.

Wow, he couldn’t wait till this stuff left his system. What would Obi-Wan say? What would Ahsoka—?

Right.

She was gone. Left because the Jedi Order had accused her of something she hadn’t done, hadn’t trusted her, had… had mistreated her. Oh, Snips.

“Things are different without the commander around,” Rex admitted. Anakin just nodded, not trusting himself to say too much. “I don’t know much about friendship or relationships,” he went on, “just the attachment I have to my brothers, and to you, my general, but I can imagine it must hurt that she’s not here.”

“It does,” Anakin admitted, words that he’d later hate himself for sharing if he even remembered this moment. He was showing weakness, attachment.

“There’s always loss in war.”

“Yeah. Just… why her?”

“I don’t know, General.”

“Ahsoka was so good, and the Jedi, they—they didn’t trust her, they hurt her. They offered her a place back, but she didn’t take it. She didn’t even take it for me. I—I didn’t… I didn’t do anything wrong, did I?”

“Sir, perhaps I should help you back to the Temple.”

Rex put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder, and he shoved him off. “No, I’m fine.”

He tried getting up, boiling with anger and hurt, but he somehow tripped against his stool and stumbled into the counter. Rex called some others over, and Anakin couldn’t remember much after that. He just knew that the next morning, he woke up in his room in the Jedi Temple, hating everything and missing his Padawan.

~~~

Anakin’s last true goodbye was to Padmé, and then, it was the galaxy’s turn to say goodbye. To Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. For he was now Darth Vader, dark side apprentice to Darth Sidious. His life of loss was no more, and his life of power had begun. No more goodbyes. Not ever.

#angstpril2021 #fic #day 24 #goodbyes #star wars #the clone wars #anakin skywalker #fanfiction #writing #my writing

[adelcrait-old-account]

Lost and Found— Chapter 15: The Boss

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24522103/chapters/64196512

After discovering a security breach, Vader sends Luke and Piett undercover to a bar frequented by criminals, hoping to run into the woman that is planning to defeat the Empire. 

Meme spoilers and a rant under the cut:

Hello! 

This chapter was a long time coming thing. I wanted to change the scenario and get them all to an actual planet with real air. Luke’s been up in space for weeks, but Piett must have been there for a few months, if not a year. I’m sending him on a vacation, he deserves it.

July me also thought it was the funniest idea to write Piett, unmasked Vader and Luke in a bar talking about Vader. Luke would introduce unmasked Vader as “his mortal enemy”, and Piett would believe it. I also find it incredibly amusing (to me) that Vader refuses to act as another person because: a) *dramatic spotlight* He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection....He will not do something as foolish as acting. Do you even know who he is? He is Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith- b) He refuses to act as Agent Broly because he just doesn’t care. In the end he did reveal his identity to Piett, and he knew it was a risk coming there unmasked, but there is trust between them, and so Vader doesn’t see the point of acting as this Agent Broly.

For some reason when I first started writing Agent Broly I imagined a tall surfer himbo of some sort. Do with this information whatever you want.

1. The Boss

Now onto the star of the night, Anak- sorry. *coughs* the spotlight please? Thank you. nOW ONTO THE STAR OF THE CHAPTER: Darth Vader, a Dark Lord of the Sith, Supreme Commander of the Imperial Fleet, current temporary Emperor, Leader of the Imperial Security Bureau, Leader of the not-so-secret Investigation against the Galactical Insurrection... My mans a bit out of character, but hey! This is an Alternate Universe where Vader when stressed acts like clone wars Anakin because there is enough love in my heart for all versions of this character. 

The real boss of the chapter is Miss Celissa Vanis, finally making an appearance after Chapter 6, when Luke and Vader just found her in the Coruscant rebel base. Remember those times? Feels like ages ago. Where has she been? What is she doing? Does anyone know what she’s doing? Do I know what she’s doing? What is her Modus Operandi? Does she have one?

Listen.......She’s out there getting stuff done. It took her less than six months to scare The Darth Vader, kidnap Palpatine and Mothma and start a very organised clandestine riot. SHE’S GETTING SHIT DONE.

I really like her. She is the antagonist of the story, yes, but hey! She’s charming and makes some very good points even if the execution of her ideas is....well, bad. People are dying. But she makes sense, even if I, as a person that is also reading the story and has opinions, disagree with her.

Celissa had a dramatic entrance, and she also got a dramatic exit. It has taken me over 70,000 words, but I finally decided to include something about...you know. That guy. 

Celissa stared at the ship. Her people looked at her for guidance, but she didn't have any. She was already planning to get rid of Darth Vader's new Sith apprentice. "You! Pick up the blasters and let's go. The Emperor has some questions to answer." 

Palpatine, answering questions? Celissa, teach me your ways. 

2. ‘The Skywalkers: I am The Last Skywalker Left, both Skywalkers say’ A STAR WARS STORY

These two... I know they’re related, you know they’re related, everyone knows they’re related, and I know that they will know that they’re related (I’m not telling you the How yet ;D) but...they share one brain cell, and in this chapter Luke has it. Which is understandable, because Vader is out of his comfort zone and has a lot on his plate. He probably hasn’t been to a space!bar since that time Hondo kidnapped Obi-Wan and him...about twenty-five years ago.

Luke, on the other hand, spent most of his life on Tatooine. He probably befriended ‘cool looking people’ in Mos Eisley when he was five and his Uncle had to drag him away because those people were dangerous. Luke in a bar filled with dangerous people is like a fish in the sea.  But I think that the fact that Luke and Vader are related by blood will just be a major Plus when the truth is revealed, because I already see that they’re vibing as friends. Hell, they even argue like children through the Force because Vader’s being snarky (because he’s out of his comfort zone) and Luke is just not letting him get away with things Vader usually did.

Hey, and I love them for that.

3. ‘The not-a  Commander, Someone Help Him’

I would quote Rickey Thompson’s you are my ride or die video, but I want you to watch it. This is me talking about Luke in this fic.  The Commander, Ben Starkiller. As I said before, Luke is more comfortable in the ground with the normal people because he spent most of his life on Tatooine with his Aunt and Uncle, moisture farmers. He understands people, he understands crime, he has seen people being wrongly accused of crimes they did not commit. So when Darth Vader starts talking about criminals, Luke steps in. He said this in Chapter 3, and his position still stands. He might not officially be a rebel anymore, but his morality hasn’t shifted:

Vader continued staring at him. “Why did you join [The Rebellion] ?” Luke clenched his jaw. “The Empire is a rotten, corrupt fascist state that supports slavery and massive genocide,” he said calmly with a shrug, “I have witnessed enough to see that something must be done against it.” “That is all theory, Commander. I am asking what caused you personally to be against it.” “I won't watch how innocent people are killed because the Emperor threw a tantrum.” Vader wanted to say that his Master never lost his composure: out of both of them he was the most likely to throw tantrums. Sidious was more strategic in his murders. “The Empire took the life of someone you knew.” Luke clenched his jaw. “A great deal of many people, sir. This is a war.” He would never reveal what the Empire did to his aunt and uncle, he wouldn't give Vader that pleasure. "No one cares about murders on Tatooine."

4. Hondo Ohnaka, Forever Young

I loved him in the Clone Wars and in Rebels. This is the man that when confronted by Darth Maul and Savage Opress, said the following:

Darth Maul: "Filth, you will pay for your insolence." Hondo Ohnaka: "Insolence! We are pirates! We don't even know what that means. Open fire!" 

I can only imagine the kind of stories there are about this man in the galaxy, and Luke has heard them all, so when he heard that Hondo said Vader tried to kill him, I just imagined this:

Imagine sending this without context to someone that hasn’t read my fic but knows the star wars lore....I would be very confused. It could also be an AU where Hondo finds baby!Luke and raises him as a pirate, and then Vader comes for his child and finds Luke Ohnaka speaking fluent pirate slang with the man that raised him. 

In case you didn’t know, Hondo kidnapped Anakin and Obi-Wan for ‘business’ in the clone wars TV show. After that, Anakin was too distracted with the war to go find Hondo again, so they left on neutral-to-bad terms.  On the long list of people that Vader wouldn’t want to see him unmasked, Hondo is at the bottom, because Vader doesn’t even remember he exists. Imagine you’re Vader (I know, I know), you’re approximately forty-five years old, drowning in work, undercover in a mission, arguing with this boy who is accusing you of being “impossible”, and then he goes very quiet and says “That’s Hondo Ohnaka.” The name is oddly familiar, and you turn around and you see him. That dude that kidnapped you when you were only twenty years old. This was over 25 YEARS AGO, surely he won’t remember you, right? 

Right?

5. Captain Kathmir, who?

Captain to Darth Vader at the start of the Empire, led the 501st to battles, a very well known figure in the Imperial Fleet...so why doesn’t Vader want to talk about her?

Piett spoke. "Yes, precisely. [...] Everyone knows what happened to Captain Kathmir."

The Force stopped ticking.

Luke frowned. "Who?"

"Nobody," said Vader urgently, "Drop the topic, now."

She disappeared after failing him. What happened? 

The Force became cold, and Luke shivered when Vader spoke. "The story is a lie built on childish rumours." he spat quietly. 

In case that you’re thinking Vader might have had something with this Captain, the answer is No. In my humble opinion, in canon, I don’t see Vader having anything with anyone that wasn’t Padmé, and this extends to all my fics. There are enough headcanons for everyone.

And to conclude, a wholesome one: 

Thank you for sticking with my nocturnal ramblings about this story! I’m posting another chapter in a few days, where they will do Force magic in the snow. 

#lost and found #My posts #my fics

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 75

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Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Will tag as I go along, Will update tags, Slow Burn, Influenced by Star Trek and other Sci-Fi themes, References to We Happy Few, Tons of References and quotes to George Orwells 1984 see if you can find them all, The First Order is the new Big Brother,  but who is really surprised, Blatant Nazi Symbolism, Interrogation Themes, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Really just drawn out Slow Burn, Don’t repost without permission, Torture themes, Suggestive Themes, Execution themes, Disturbing Themes, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Verbal Abuse, Controlling Kylo Ren, Physical Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, Possessive Kylo Ren, A character shamelessly based on Zelda

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

MASTERLIST

Chapter 75: Exegol

You regained consciousness once more. Kylo’s masked face was in front of yours, blocking most of your vision. The red jagged lines a harsh contrast to your surroundings.

He was stern. “You will do as I say, I must protect you, but I can not hold you like this any longer. You will feel me release your mind and your body, but you must do as I say. It is the only way you leave here alive. Do you understand?” Something about this place was worrying him. Why was it so dangerous?

You watched as the knights shifted nervously around you. But he allowed you to speak. “Yes.” And your body and mind were released. You could still feel a protective Force bubble around you as you analyzed where you were at.

It was dark, you could see lighting strike all around you, as you followed Kylo into this weird monument. The knights surrounding you as Kylo took the lead, his saber ignited. He was on the hunt.

Even though there was no hold on your mind you could feel his presence there. ‘This place is filled with the dark side of the Force. Remember, you will do as I say and only as I say.’

You all stepped on to this hexagonal shape on the floor, it jolted as it lowered you down into some sort of dark abyss. You could see large menacing statues, hundreds of feet tall surrounding the chamber you were entering. The constant bombardment of lighting is the only true source of light other than a weird dull blue glow of mist. If he hadn’t already told you, you would have thought this place was haunted or something. The aura of the room making you on edge.

You could hear chanting in the distance as a loud chilling voice spoke. “Ah, I see you have heeded my instructions.” Something was off but you couldn’t explain it.

Kylo responded to the seemingly disembodied voice. “I have brought her as you requested.” He was talking about you. But why did he request you? Why were you important to all this?

“Good, good my boy. There is hope for you yet. Much more potential than your grandfather.” The voice had a body, or you at least assumed it did as you approached a figure attached to some sort of mechanical arm. “The First Order was just the beginning I will give you so much more.”

Kylo aimed his saber at the crippled looking man. “What could you give me?” You watched the knights take defensive stances around you, following their boss’s lead. You put your hand on your blaster, hoping that whatever will happen, that Phasma’s training would be enough.

His voice almost had a mocking tone to it as he spoke. “Everything. A new Empire. The might of the Final Order will soon be ready. It will be yours since you did as I asked. You killed the girl, ended the Jedi, and became what your grandfather Vader could not. You will rule all the galaxy as the new Emperor.”

“But beware she is not who you think she is.” one of his wrinkly deformed hands pointed to you. “She is your weakness. Break her and this will all be yours.” Who was this man?

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive. Disobey me and he will kill you.’ Kylo’s voice spoke in your mind. You didn’t know if he was supposed to be reassuring you or scaring you more.

“Yes, master,” is what Kylo responded. He turned around to face you, the world around both of you dissipated into black mist. Master? Who was this man? What was Kylo going to do? And then you felt it, you felt the black tendrils squeezing at the last bit of life you had in you, the last bit of you. You didn’t understand.

Tears streaming down your face as you fell to your knees, not being able to bear the pain. “Why are you doing this? You were nice once, what happened?” You couldn’t see anything but him, a loud roaring sound in your ears.

Kylo’s distorted voice ripped through you “Nice? Nice was Ben Solo, who was weak. I am better than him.” You heard the old man laugh at your struggles through the deafening roar.

You were pleading with him. “What about right after our wedding? You were so sweet then.” You wanted to trust him, but this wasn’t the man you knew.  

You heard a chuckle through his mask, something that would haunt even the bravest of warriors. “Ah yes, that was the leftover residue of Ben Solo leaving my body, the accumulation of my mother’s and the scavenger’s powers. Something I couldn’t exactly control at the time. But now it’s just you and me Kitten. The beast, the monster is all you have now.” He brought his hand to his heart, showing you he was the beast.

“You said you wanted me to fix you, to mend your broken soul. I can’t do that like this.” The grip of the Force around you was too much, you watched as his hand turned next to your head. And pain shot through your mind.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’ The voice inside your head was his, but it was different than the one speaking out loud to you. “You already have Kitten. You gave me the motivation to end Ben Solo, to break the part of me that was weak. And now I am breaking the part of you that is weak too. We will be together as one fulfilling my grandfather’s legacy, ruling the galaxy together. Two souls that have mended each other, that have mended together.” He stepped closer to you, taking your jaw in his large gloved hand.

You wanted all of this to end. You said the words you never wanted to really say. The words you wished wouldn’t be true. “You’re a monster.”

His head snapped at the declaration. “I’ve always been a monster, it’s only taken you this long to see it.” If he didn’t have the mask on you could have sworn he would be foaming at the mouth with anger. This is not the man you once knew. He was different. He was terrifying.

“Let me go. I want myself back.” You wanted to go back to Earth, you wanted to wake up and for all of this to be a dream. A small, small part of you wished you had never met him, but something inside of you was fighting for him, something much bigger than you had initially thought.

He shook his head. “No, I don’t know if I want to let you have yourself back. Because you could still run away from me. And guess what? A new name has appeared on my wrist.” He showed the piece of bare skin to you. “Empress Ren. Doesn’t that have a nice ring to it?  Maybe if we keep this act up, she will be the one that lives, kitten. And she won’t leave me.” A new name replaced yours, he had already started the process of breaking you.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’ His voice in your head was full of emotion, he was crying.

“You’re breaking my heart,” you were screaming now, your voice breaking, your body hurting as you struggled against his grip on your life and body.

“It needs to be broken so I can mend it. Fix it, make it whole, make it mine.” For some reason, it felt as if he was saying this without the mask,  but he wasn’t. You could hear him break with you.

But that didn’t stop what little fight you had left in you. “You’re killing me.”

It felt as if he was whispering to you, “No, I am letting you live. I am giving you life, a new life with me.” It was all too much.

‘Do as I say and you will walk out of here alive.’

 But it wouldn’t be you. It would be someone else entirely. But you gave in. You felt the glass shatter, the black ink spilling in. The embers washed away. You were gone. Your body crumpled to the ground. As your head made impact with the ground, you saw it. You saw the throne from your dreams. You weren’t fully conscious but you could hear what was happening around you.

The old man, “The ritual begins.”

Weird demonic chanting erupted from the room in some sort of agreement.

“He will strike me down and pledge himself as a Sith. He will draw his weapon. He will come to me. He will take his revenge. And with the stroke of his saber, the Sith are reborn. The Jedi are dead.” Why would this man want to be killed? What purpose would this serve if Kylo killed him? Something was off but you couldn’t do anything about it.  

But Kylo was apparently hesitating as the old man became angry, “Do it. Make the sacrifice.”

“I don’t want to be Emperor.” He didn’t he wanted you to have control, or at least that’s what he said in the beginning but that seemed like a lifetime ago.

You felt yourself regain vision and mobility; you were awake now. Or at least whoever you were now.

The old man was furious now. “Don’t be a fool my boy. Of course, you do. It is your destiny.” There was definitely a reason behind him needing Kylo to kill him.

“No, being the Emperor is not my destiny, nor was it my grandfather’s. We both have the same weakness. We love one woman too much, she is the galaxy to me. I will give it to her.”

You watched as lighting erupted from the old man’s hands. Kylo using his strength and ability to fight him, using his saber to deflect it, drawing the old man away from you. The red guards who had been surrounding the edge of where you were now engaged in a battle against the knights.

‘I know you are awake. Shoot him. It is the only way this all ends.’

You saw what was happening now; you looked like you were still unconscious, and Kylo and his knights were a distraction. You watched as Kylo lured the old man away from you, so the old man’s back was to you. This was your one chance.

You struggled to get the blaster, your entire body feeling as if it was hit by a train, sore and muscles almost frozen. You eventually took hold of it and aimed. If you missed you would surely hit Kylo who as struggling against the old man’s powers. All you could do was hope that your shot rang true as you pulled the trigger. There was a blast of energy that shot out as your blaster bolt hit, causing you to black out. You were weak.

When you awoke this time you were laying awkwardly on something hard, your face was being cradled by a hand. When you opened your eyes you were met with a familiar face. Kylo’s. His eyes scanned your face, looking for something but eventually, he just held your gaze. Something was different now.

Your voice was groggy, “What happened?” You saw bodies littering the floor around the large chamber, all of them the red-robed guards of the old man.

“I’ve changed you. I’m sorry but it needed to happen.” His voice was sincere as he caressed your face, some of the gentleness that was stored in your memory returning.

“So, she’s gone?” The old you was gone. Or at least you suspected it.

He shifted a bit, seeming to be a bit uncomfortable at the outcome. “She is, but I am here for you. I will protect you, my Empress.”

“Empress.” The name rolled off your tongue as if it always belonged. As if it was always a part of you.

“Yes, Empress Ren, leader of the First Order and now, the Sith Eternal and the Final Order. We’ve won. You have control over everything, you have control over me.” He seemed genuine in his statements. You won against that old man. You now had control over everything, everyone.

None of this answered the important question. “Who was he? The one who wanted to make you Emperor?” You sat up, on the throne from your dreams, you were seated in your rightful position, Kylo kneeling at your feet.

Kylo shook his head. “He was the old Emperor. The one my grandfather worked for, his master. Palpatine.” Something about him kneeling before you did something to you, something familiar inside of you awoke. You stroked his beautiful soft raven hair.

You nodded, “Why did he want you to be Emperor? What did he have to gain by you slaying him? It doesn’t make any sense.”

Kylo shook his head, his face scrunched up in confusion, “I do not know why exactly, but I suspect it may have to do with some old Sith rituals. My grandfather encountered one that could take over someone’s body, but not like what I did to you, like a true host. The transferring of complete consciousness. His body was old, and decaying, I was, the perfect host for him to take over. Strong in the Force, strong in the body, but more importantly I am young. Well, much younger than him. I believe he wanted to use me to live on, to still rule as the Emperor, but we foiled his plans.” He leaned into your hand as you stroked his hair, reveling in the touch.

Your brain was working differently, more calculated, more exact, more resourceful. “And what of the Resistance? I am assuming they are still alive.”

“They are, but I am still your guard dog, Kitten. Send me after them, let me destroy them for us, for you. So all the galaxy is finally under your rule as Empress.” He placed his hands on your thighs eager to be sent as a weapon of destruction for you, his lust for violence showing through. Along with what appeared to be lust for you as he couldn’t help his hands stroking up your legs.

“I will, but I would like one night with my husband first. Last night wasn’t something I enjoyed. My guard dog needs to remember that I am supposed to be treated like an Empress. And he needs to show me that before I will let him be my weapon to destroy my enemies.” His pupils dilated, and he swallowed back need. You could see that you were hitting all the right buttons with your new authority. He wanted you as you did him. You were going to show him, just how an Empress should be treated.

A/N: Insert the Poe Dameron meme here: "And somehow Palpatine has returned." But my question is: did I do it better? Let me know!

#kylo ren #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren imagine #a soul to mend his own #kylo x reader #kylo x you #first order #star wars #star wars imagine #Star wars soulmate au #sw first order imagine #star wars first order #somehow palpatine has returned

[stardustkenobi]

A Former Confidante

Darth Vader x Reader

Request: @dcrthbaeder “Would u be able to write a one shot with darth vader?? Xx”

Warnings: Angst, canon typical violence, unrequited love, pining

A/N: Hiii everyone! I’m so sorry for the lull in posts— it’s been a crazy few weeks but I’m trying to settle into a routine that will (hopefully) allow me to get on a regular posting schedule. As always, thank you so much for reading!

You had been fairly young when you first met Anakin Skywalker. A few days shy of your fifteenth birthday, in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. A budding Jedi with promise, you and your master had been on your way back to your quarters after a long morning of training.

The eye contact you made lasted no more than a millisecond, but it was enough to be seared into your brain forever. You had heard the whispers amongst your peers- he was the Chosen One, supposedly. Destined to end the Sith, bring about the balance that you all desperately ached for. The war raging with the Separatists had kept you from ever laying eyes on him yourself.

Mentally scolding yourself for the blush that rose to your cheeks when he passed, giving your master a nod and you a smile, you drew in a sharp breath and immediately reminded yourself of why you absolutely could not allow your mind toward that place that continuously got you into trouble with your master. You refused to allow your mind to convince you that you were in love with yet another man at first glance. Not again.

But you couldn’t help yourself as you sat meditating on one of the quieter balconies facing the skyline of the city later that evening, flinching a little when the doors open with a mechanical whoosh.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you, my apologies.” A steady voice came from behind you, followed by quiet footsteps. “Do you mind sharing the space for a little bit?”

You turned, glancing over your shoulder, mouth immediately going dry at the sight of Anakin Skywalker standing just over you. “Not at all.” You whispered, trying to keep your voice even.

A little bit turned to a whole evening as the two of you talked quietly, meditation long forgotten after sitting in silence for less than thirty seconds. He told you stories of adventures he had been on with his own master, how he had received word that he would be serving as a personal guard to Queen Amidala, an old friend of his. He asked why he had never seen you before, how your training was going, question after question that made your heart race a little bit faster with each moment.

It was one conversation, one night. But, again, you were always one to fall easily. It took everything in your power to clear your head to make sure Anakin was none the wiser as you sat next to him, wishing that the two of you had met in some other life time under different circumstances.

Your relationship in the following years was friendly, never actually professional. He became your biggest confidant and you became his, so you thought. You weren’t aware of budding romances, conflicting feelings, the subtle toeing of the line between light and dark on his behalf. All that mattered to you was that you had a friend and he sometimes brushed your hair from your face while you sat in the gardens, eating fruit and making each other laugh.

He told you about Padme just weeks before everything changed and your world came crashing down. Your time together had been dwindling over the past few months, what with you getting ready to take the trials and his…You weren’t necessarily sure what he had been up to that had suddenly taken up all of his time, but when he showed up in your quarters late one night you didn’t care. You couldn’t be angry because you loved him and try as you might to push it away, you couldn’t.

After settling down on your bed, sitting across from each other, you decided that you would tell him the truth. That it only made sense to before you attempted to complete your training because you would give it all up and run away with him if he asked you. “Can I tell you something?” You whispered, glancing up into his face.

“You can tell me anything.” He whispered back.

As you opened your mouth to speak, you caught what seemed to be the smallest hint of fear emanating from him. Your eyebrows furrowed as you caught his gaze- it was somewhat hardened, his whole face was. “What…Are you all right, Anakin?”

And then the flood gates opened. He told you every single detail of his secret life, eyes filling with tears as he held your hands shakily. He told you about the horrible dreams he had been having- that was why he had come to you that night. He couldn’t tell Obi Wan and he didn’t have it in him to wake Padme for the fourth night in a row, especially when he knew she would tell him it was only a dream.

Like the good confidant you were, you nodded, listened, buried your emotions as best you could. It took all that you had not to scream at him to get out of your room and to never speak to you again because how could he not know how you felt? Did he really have no idea how it was wrenching you apart to hear that everything you had wanted with him from the moment you set eyes on him five years prior could never happen, not because of the rules of your profession, but because he had it already with someone else?

Reassuring him that while dreams sometimes foretold of the future, he still had control of the situation, of his emotions and his actions, you ushered him back to his own bed, desperately needing the opportunity to let go of your own frustrating and anger. He thanked you and, not uncharacteristically, pulled you to his chest, hugging you tight. Your lack of reciprocation was left unnoticed by his own self absorption.

“Oh, I forgot.” He said quietly just before he turned to go. “What was it that you wanted to tell me, Y/N?”

Your head snapped up as your hand hovered over the button to close the door. Without hesitation, your lie spilled from your lips as smooth as the mechanical whoosh your door made after he left just a moment later. “Just wanted to tell you that I think I’m finally ready to take my trials.”

Ten years had gone bye and you had left those fleeting moments far behind you. None of that longing seemed to matter anymore, not after what he did. Not after he had taken so many friends away from you.

After nine years of wandering on your own, trying to figure out where you had gone wrong and whether or not you could have stopped the monster that was Darth Vader from rising up, you decided to do something with your life. You found the rebellion and in turn found a home and a purpose. All of your energy was channeled into bringing down the Empire and bringing down the people that had destroyed the only family you had ever known. You hadn’t planned on ever having anything close to what you knew at the temple you grew up in, but you quickly found a close second in the rowdy bunch of freedom fighters you now shared close quarters with each night.

Rubbing elbows with them on missions where you barely made it out alive by the skin of your teeth was your new favorite past time- gone were the days of carefully planned out schedules, hours of silence, subduing of emotions that just felt so right regardless of what the Jedi Code was telling you. You had quickly traded your lightsaber for a blaster, let your hair grow long, and traded late night conversations with the fallen Chosen One for stolen kisses from your new lover between briefings and meals and training and missions and sheets.

Needless to say, you were happy.

Three weeks into your latest mission with your crew found your small, inconspicuous transport ship being pulled into the tractor beam of an Imperial Star Destroyer. Though this had happened to many other groups of rebels over the past few months or so and prisoners were rarely ever taken, you couldn’t help the rise of nervous energy in your chest as you prepared to be boarded. The people who typically interrogated the crews of the small transports typically bought the story each crew had been taught to spin. Before embarking on a mission of this nature, one had to be familiar with the ins and outs of their alias and the alias of the group as a whole- if the story wasn’t second nature, you weren’t getting on it.

“Don’t sweat it.” Your pilot said as she came out to join the rest of the crew standing just outside the cockpit. “We’re prepared for this.”  

Prepared. The word repeated like a prayer in your head as your fingers flexed in the pockets of your pants. Up until this point, not one person in the rebellion was aware of the fact that you were force sensitive. Nobody had ever seen the hilt of your lightsaber, nor did you practice the force in any other space other than in the privacy of the woods just a little ways from your bunker back on the base. Despite this, you wouldn’t hesitate if a mind trick or two got your crew of ten out of this situation alive. Attribute it to the force or just plain old intuition, for some reason you couldn’t shake the fear that continued to grow as the group of Imperial officers inevitably approached the ship after you had finally been brought into the docking bay of the destroyer.

Blasters drawn and faces stoic, four officers stepped on board- you hardly heard the conversation that ensued because the feeling that continued to nag at you only grew stronger. It set you on edge, made you squirm in your spot and tug at the collar of your shirt as you waited for them to get get out of your hair already.

Your fingers began to twitch just as the officer who had been received a transmission on his comm link. “You’re being taken on board for further questioning.” He said after a moment, glancing at your pilot.

Heart racing, your hands flew to your blaster, ready to put up a fight. However, there wasn’t much you could do, as two of the officers were on you already…The only one not to comply with their orders.

Needless to say, you had flagged your whole group with that simple action. A normal civilian transport would have no problem joining the officers on board for further questioning because they had nothing to hide. You had just damned the whole group to at least a day of detainment and the struggle of a life time to keep your story straight, as you only had been given enough information to cover basic questions. To stave off any further questioning.

The plan had always worked, what was different this time?

With a blaster pressed to the small of your back, you followed the rest of your crew, led by the two remaining officers that weren’t sandwiching you. Weapons were confiscated at one checkpoint, personal belongings at the next. You were divided up into pairs and tossed into detainment cells a little while after.

“This is bullshit!” You called after the guard that had locked you away while you slammed your fist into the door of the cell.

Your companion, the co-pilot of your crew, shook her head. “That’s not going to do us any good, you know.”

Turning on your heel, you raised an eyebrow skeptically. “I’m getting us out of here. All of us.” Your confidence emulated from the words as they rose from your chest. Sure, it was dangerous to reveal your abilities, but at that moment it was a hell of a lot better than being trapped on an Imperial Star Destroyer for an indefinite amount of time.

The co-pilot scoffed. “Oh yeah? And how do you expect to do that, blaster brain?” She rolled her eyes, propping her feet up on the wall across from where she sat. “You don’t have any weapon or a key or anything else to get us out. What would you even do after you got us all out, stare a bunch of stormtroopers down and hop they just back off because you look intimidating?”

Mirroring her expression, you moved your hand effortlessly. The door slid open and so did her mouth, in complete and utter shock. Offering her a hand, then moving toward the exit, you quipped, “I think that I’ll check around for some blasters, but I’m also willing to take my chances on your idea.”

She stayed rooted to the spot, in total shock at the fact that you had opened the door with a simple wave of your hand. With a frustrated sigh, you pulled her out of the room, starting to creep down the sterile looking hallway. You made it to the end, feeling somewhat victorious, and then waved your hand once more, opening the second door with as much ease as the first time.

“Your senses aren’t what they used to be.” A modulated voice rang out through the silent hallway just as the two of you began to step through the doorway.

Freezing up, you refused to turn around as footsteps echoed menacingly through the hallway. They sounded eerily familiar. So did the voice, despite its distorted echo.

“I sensed that it was you as soon as your ship landed in the launch bay.” The voice continued as you finally turned around. Eyes widened as you were faced with the face of a monster— Darth Vader. “But you seem to be out of practice.”

Try as you might, you couldn’t bring yourself to fight back as he continued toward you. “I don’t know you. You don’t know me.” You spat, trying hard as you could to keep your lip from trembling. The man you once loved was dead— the man in front of you had sought to that.

“I demand that you take us back to our cell for questioning.” The co-pilot began, clearly not realizing the gravity of the situation.

“Stand down.” You hissed to her as he got even closer. You averted your eyes, refusing to look at him straight in the face.

He tilted his head as he watched you both— one woman refusing to look him in the the eye, the other staring him down defiantly.  “But apparently not that out of practice if you were able to escape your holding cell.” With a flick of his wrist, your co-pilot was on the ground writhing in pain.

“Stop.” You said sternly, voice wavering as you finally glanced up to face the mask. The metal glistened in the bright lights of the hallway and try as you may, you were unable to get a read on him. You tried desperately to reach out to him, clinging to to the force as if it was the last thing anchoring you to the floor of the ship. It wouldn’t be a lie if you said it was. Your eyebrows furrowed as you struggled, trying to break in and understand what was going on in his head.

The tsk that left his lips was as artificial as it was superficial; his voice was mechanic and the sound was almost patronizing. He didn’t care that you were trying as hard as you could muster and he certainly didn’t plan on entertaining your attempts for much longer. “I tried to find you that day, you know.” He began to say, walking even closer. “Tried to reach out to you and tell you it was okay, that you were safe with me.”

You spat at the ground, then glared up at him through your eyelashes. “You would have killed me, too. Just like you killed every single damn person in that temple.”

“Not you.” He said immediately, refusing to let you continue. “You never had doubt in your head when it came to me. No.” You could practically see the smug smile on his face as his head tilted menacingly. “You were so fixed in your affection and would have turned immediately had I asked you.”

Despite all of the time that had passed since the last time the two of you stood face to face, your cheeks burnt like the surface of Mustafar, reminding Darth Vader of the heat that had licked his skin and distorted the face you had loved from the moment you laid eyes on him. “You don’t know me.” You replied, trying to keep your voice from betraying the emotions that threatened to bubble up. Not that it would make a difference, you knew he was well aware of the affect that he had on you. That this encounter was having on you. “You never knew me.”

The laugh that left his lips was low and grainy. “I know you very well.” He finally stopped just a mere few feet away from you. “I know that you love me, as hard as you tried to push it away.”

Your eyes widened as you shook your head in disgust. “I don’t love you. I can’t even stand to look at you right now.” You hissed, eyes narrowing. “You took everything from me, okay? Just let us all go. We haven’t done—“

“Stop groveling.” He snapped, flicking his wrist again. The strangled sounds coming from the woman next to you ceased and you refused to look down at your feet, knowing all too well that she was far gone. “I’m going to offer you what I would have offered you had I found you that day.” He began.

“Don’t do this.” You tried to stop him, shaking your head once more as tears pricked at your eyes. “You know what my answer’s going to be.”

He stepped forward, touching your chin and glancing down at you. “Join me.” He said simply. “You were once a powerful Jedi— I see the power in you still. You could be great.” He continued, tilting his head once again. “You could finally have what you always wanted.”

Your jaw dropped at this assertion; the fact that he still continued to believe that your love would have lasted through the horrors that he had put you through and the atrocities that he had committed would have made you laugh had you been in a different situation. Somewhere safe and far away, wrapped in the arms of your lover in your shared bunk. Laughing at this dumb story and talking about how what you had trumped any “love” that the lonely shell of a man wrapped in metal could have attempted to give you had you said yes.

Swallowing the lump threatening to rise in your throat, you spit once more and hit his helmet dead center. “Read my lips, Vader.” You said, voice cold and calculated. “Strike me down if you want, but I will never, ever join you. I have what I always wanted, and—“

Darth Vader didn’t give you another moment to continue speaking. His hand rose up, using the force to apply just enough pressure around your throat to push you into unconsciousness. A trooper finally emerged from the door behind you after you had fallen to the floor beside your comrade, now stiff and lifeless.

“Sir, what should we do with the Jedi?” She asked, tilting her head as her studied the two bodies laying at her feet.

Vader was already turning, unwilling to look at you for another second. “Bring her to the holding cell and dispose of the other one.” With a mechanic whoosh, the door at the opposite end of the hallway closed and he was gone. Despite your protests, he would have you on his side some day. He wouldn’t lose you again.

#Darth Vader #Darth Vader imagine #Darth Vader x reader #star wars #reader insert

[atamascolily]

lily reads “Aftermath: Life Debt” by Chuck Wendig

This was one of the first nu-canon novels to come out in 2016, meant to fill the gap between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens. So far, all of the nu-canon stuff has been readable (unlike, say, some of Legends’ more memorable failures) but I was pleasantly surprised to find that Wendig’s writing is the most exciting and engaging I have encountered to date.

The problem is, of course, that he keeps using it to accomplish things I disagree with, but I am sure he did the best he could within the constraints Disney gave him and I don’t take it personally.

Anyway, I had to skip the first Aftermath book because it’s AWOL from the library right now, but fortunately, Wendig is pretty good about explaining How We Got Here without huge infodumps, so I got oriented pretty fast.

This book is written in present tense, which also surprised me. Even though I have read several pro-published novels that use present tense, I’m still not used to seeing it outside of fanfic, and it feels delightfully novel. I like present tense because it encourages concrete verbs, as well as a sense of immediacy and groundedness in the action (which is one reason I use it in fics). Present tense forces me to be a better writer precisely because it doesn’t come naturally. But I also enjoy it as a reader. 

Life Debt is set immediately post-Battle of Endor in 5 ABY. Leia is a few months pregnant. Luke is name-dropped a few times, but never appears. (Sigh.) Han is upset that the New Republic is dragging its feet on liberating Kashyyyk and he and Chewie decide to take matters into their own hands. When things go wrong, Leia asks Wendig’s OC Nora Wexley and her crew to bring him back.

Nora Wexley was one of the Y-wing pilots at the Battle of Endor. Now she roams the galaxy hunting Imperials for New Republic bounty, with a motley assortment of beings. There’s Sinjir, ex-Imperial and gay; Jas Emari, a Zabrak bounty hunter; and Jom Barell, who didn’t have any defining personality traits that stuck in my mind outside of his on-again, off-again friends-with-benefits with Jas;. There’s also her teenage son Temmin “Snap” Wexley and the refurbished battle droid he built as a personal bodyguard, Mr. Bones. Mr. Bones is an unrepentant murderbot and utterly delightful, especially when he tries to “blend in” by being more human.

More backstory: Nora joined the Rebellion after her husband Brentin was imprisoned by the Empire and presumed dead. Nora and Wedge have a thing as well. Mon Mothma is chancellor of the New Republic, and Leia is... I’m not sure what her official title is.

Meanwhile, on Team Empire, there’s Grand Admiral Rae Sloane, ostensibly in charge of a large slice of the Imperial Remnant, but who is being manipulated--to her deep resentment--by a man named Gallius Rax with ties to both Palpatine and Jakku. Sloane tortured Wedge in the previous book and Nora is frustrated she didn’t kill the Grand Admiral when she had the chance.

There’s also a hilarious sequence where the guy running Coruscant tries to surrender and Mon Mothma and Leia refuse because he doesn’t have anything they especially want.

In addition to the main plot, there are also short chapters titled “Interludes” showing various doings in the wider galaxy. I think a lot of these are supposed to be tie-ins for other material because they mostly don’t have any relevance to the current storyline. There’s one about a Vader-inspired death cult on Corellia, a pirate queen named Eleodie, Alderaanians mining asteroids from their former homeland and arguing about politics, Twi’leks freeing Ryloth, Malakili the ex-rancor-keeper gets a new job training a baby Hutt (?? - would have liked to hear more about that one!). I like the one about Maz Kanata’s castle, even though it still makes NO SENSE in terms of world-building.

I like Sinjir’s relationship with his slicer boyfriend, and I like that from his perspective, it’s not that the Empire particularly cares about homosexuality per se, (as long as you’re discreet about it), but the Empire uses relationships to manipulate and control people, so being open about them is a form of weakness. Just brings home the point that the Empire is a piece of shit (which is why it’s so hard for me to care about Rae Sloane or any of the scheming on Team Empire).

I don’t think I like Sinjir as a person, mind you, but he is certainly interesting, and he has no illusions that he’s a good guy, even though he’s now working against the Empire.

Also, there’s a bounty hunter named Mercurial Swift, which is the most metal name ever, and cameos from Brendol Hux, who ran some sort of boarding school, and whose bastard son is name-dropped occasionally.

No one will be surprised that my favorite scene is Leia meditating next to a sanctuary tree sapling on Chandrila she grew from a seed that Wicket gave her, and she touches the Force for the first time, and realizes that her child is a boy. Nice.

Anyway, Nora and her team find Solo--Chewbacca is a prisoner on Kashyyk when their rebellion attempt failed--and they sneak into a prison called Ashmead’s Lock on Kashyyyk, which happens to be where Nora’s husband Brentin has been this whole time! The prisoners have been stuck in stasis pods and mined for energy in a Matrix-like scenario that really should have been explored more, but they bust out, with Nora taking the prisoners home and Han and Chewie continuing to lead the rebellion.

Time skip! Brentin is distant and has PTSD, Snap is angry and acting out, Nora feels guilty because she’s attracted to Wedge and she isn’t able to connect with her husband anymore. Wedge is, of course, heartbroken.

Sloane comes to Chandrila for peace talks, and Leia leaves to go after Han on Kashyyk when Mon Mothma refuses to back her up. She ends up getting Wedge to come with her for back-up, and her pilot is Evaan Verlaine from the comics (nice to see you Evaan!)

Meanwhile, the Empire continues to be a piece of shit on Kashyyyk, and it’s way more graphic than I expected this book to go. They get what’s coming to them eventually, when Han and his team disable the chips that are keeping all the Wookiees prisoner. 

The peace talks turn out to be a trap engineered by Gallius Rax--all of the prisoners from Kashyyyk are brainwashed to start murdering people at the big ceremony and Mon Mothma narrowly avoids assassination at Brentin’s hands thanks to Nora’s quick reflexes. Sloane escapes, is super-pissed about being manipulated yet again by Rax, and she and Brentin (who also wants revenge) go to Jakku to follow up on a lead about Rax’s past.

Han ends up stealing a Star Destroyer, and Leia saves the day, and they finally kiss and make up and it’s lovely. Han leaves Chewie behind on Kashyyyk to be with Leia. Norra and her remaining team members go after Sloane.

But the biggest disappointment, of course, is the New Republic’s inability to liberate Kashyyyk, which I think epitomizes the difference between Disney’s version of Star Wars and Legends for me. In Legends, it was never a question that our heroes would liberate Kashyyyk; that was important and the entire point of the Rebellion. Even though it happened more or less off-screen, it was mentioned and cited as proof of the New Republic’s victory and triumph. So to see Mon Mothma and Ackbar trying to dissuade Leia from this is just... wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. Like I said, I think Wendig’s hands were tied on this one, but it just... lands wrong. It will never not feel wrong. Is it grittier and more “realistic” this way? Maybe, but what is the point?

Overall,  this is an action-packed adventure, with lots of good moments and funny bits that feel very much “Star Wars” to me. The interludes range from fan service-y to “hey, that’s neat, tell me more!” to  “wow, is there going to be a payoff for this years down the line?” In general, I find Disney Star Wars depressing as hell, but despite the downers I enjoyed this book much more than I expected. Like I said at the beginning, this is probably the best nu!canon thing I’ve read to date outside of the Shattered Empire comics. 

I came to like most of Wendig’s OCs, even though I’d really rather read about characters I already know--like, say, Luke! Imagine that!

(I don’t know why Disney thinks we’re not interested in what Luke’s doing, but tbh they write him so poorly when they bother that I’m not really sure I want them to.)

#star wars #book reviews #WHY DISNEY WHY

[marta-bee]

Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Sherlockians, I want to talk about Mary. Or not about Mary the character, because enough words have been spent on that topic and I’m nowhere near brave enough to wade into that one on a snowy Sunday afternoon, but rather on the way we as readers can (perhaps should) relate to her. At some level what follows is about this Tumblr post, where an anonymous commenter asked for “any fics where Mary’s not the bad guy” and noticed that a lot of the evil-Mary fanworks “gets a bit misogynistic in my opinion”; but I’m also using that as something of a springboard, and don’t mean this as a direct reply to that post. (Which is why I’m not replying in a reblog; please everyone go check out that post and comment on it as well.)

Anyway, let me start with two basic points that I hope are pretty noncontroversial.

Mary is an antagonist, at least some of the time.

Mary has at least some aspects of her character that are bad-making (more on what I mean by “bad-making” in a moment), or at least would be if she were a real person.

The devil’s in the details here, as it is with most things worth talking about, so let’s unpack that a bit.

(Long post is long, and so continued under the cut.)

When I say someone’s an antagonist, I’m not really making a value-judgment. I’m purposefully avoiding that word, “villain,” which calls to mind “villainous” as a description of their personality and character. An antagonist is just someone who plot-wise stands in opposition to the character. They’re wrapped up in the conflict our hero has to overcome.

Let’s take a pretty straightforward (and unrelated to our fandom, so hopefully less emotionally charged for a lot of us) example: the first “Hunger Games” book. Katniss is thrown into a gladiatorial fight to the death with twenty-three other teenagers. With the exception of Rue and (later in the games) Peeta, everyone else is an antagonist in relation to Katniss. She has to hope for their death and be prepared to kill them because their continued existence stands in the way of her surviving the games. Most are reduced to numbers with s knowing precious little about them – certainly not enough to think they deserve death. But they’re still antagonists because they’re obstacles the hero has to work past if she hopes to succeed.

Or take Draco Malfoy, in the early Harry Potter books. He’s a thoroughly unpleasant boy, spoiled and sniveling certainly, but I’d be hard-pressed to call him bad. His biggest defining characteristic is he stands up and tries to fight Harry; but often as not this comes down to inter-house squabbling and the only reason he and Harry are on opposite sides is how they were sorted. As we learn, given the way he was raised and the political situation he was raised in, it’s actually pretty admirable how on the periphery of the Death Eaters he stays. But he’s still the antagonist, he’s the one Harry has to outsmart or outperform or otherwise get around.

It's only natural we cheer when the antagonists fail. We’re primed to identify with the protagonist, after all, and their failure means the protagonist gets to win. Even if objectively know the antagonist doesn’t actually deserve to fail, well. That’s just kind of how stories work.

Getting back to Sherlock, I said it’s pretty noncontroversial that Mary’s an antagonist. So when I say that I don’t mean she’s evil, or even that she’s only an antagonist. But the woman shoots our star character in the chest. It’s her secrets and her very presence that drive Sherlock into exile (and drive Sherlock and John apart) for a second time, undoing whatever victory  Sherlock achieved when he defeated Moriarty’s web. She’s certainly a problem to be addressed and worked past in HLV. In terms of canon and parallels with the Doyle stories, there’s quite a lot about her actions (particular in Leinster Gardens) that all but screams “Sebastian Moran.” Ergo: antagonist.

There’s also a quieter, more ordinary sense that I suspect will be more controversial but is worth talking about anyway. Like a lot of Sherlockians and Johnlockers, I’m a big fan of making space for John/Mary/Sherlock in happy OT3 land. I think Sherlock and John at least want some version of that in canon; maybe not romantically, but they like to imagine their being room in their lives for these different relationships to not be in conflict. But in BBC-canon that hope’s not really borne out. This deserves a full meta on its own, but briefly: when Mary observes that neither she nor Sherlock were “the first” (talking about Sholto), she situates them in competition for the same position in John’s life, rather than in distinct, complementary ones (which an OT3 seems to require); and when Sherlock notes at the end of TSOT episode that “we can’t all three dance,” he seems to come to a similar conclusion. I do love me some good Johnlockary fic, but I don’t think this is where the show was heading

At a more basic level, I’d actually argue it almost has to be this way with these three- at least if we’re to hold on to John and Sherlock being “the two of us against the world.” In the 1800s men and women had such different roles in society, a man would do very different things and relate in very different ways to his close (male) friends than he would to his (female) wife. So Watson could run off with Holmes and have adventure, then return home to Mary for the peaceful, even loving family life, without one really being in tension with the other. But by the twenty-first century those spheres aren’t nearly so different. Even if you don’t imagine them as lovers, it’s hard not to imagine a self-respecting woman today saying as Mary did in TAB, “I don’t mind you going; I mind you leaving me behind.” One of the biggest challenges for a modern Holmes adaptation (or indeed, for a modern consumer of the original Doyle stories) is how to balance Holmes’ and Watson’s private “intimate partnership” – however we understand that term – against (John) Watson’s marriage to Mary with all we moderns expect of that relationship in terms of emotional fidelity, equal partnership, shared future, etc.

Put more simply: Mary should throw a monkey-wrench in the mix; she should be something that must be accounted for and whose presence should affect how Holmes and Watson can interact. Not to mean her presence is incompatible with Holmes and Watson’s close and exclusive relationship, but at a minimum she’s a factor in need of an explanation. She can’t help but be antagonistic, at least to some interpretations of Holmes’s and (John) Watson’s relationship.

As I said, with antagonists, it’s only natural to cheer for the protagonists, which almost inevitably means rooting for the protagonists’ failure. At least we root for them being de-antagonized, converted into some other relationship to the main character. But if you’ve spent any time on AO3, you’ve probably come across fanfic focusing on the antagonists (*cough* Loki *cough**cough* Drary *hacks up a longue* Silm-fandom-this-one’s-for-you *cough*’s). We can be a thirsty bunch when it comes to our antagonists, for characters we by all rights should be primed to hate. And even at the level of primary-canon, one of the biggest ways the primary creator shows their emotional growth is by realizing their antagonists aren’t truly their enemy. Like most readers I had a tear in my eye as Cato suffered through the night, begging for death; and certainly I would have been outraged if Harry hadn’t saved Draco from the Room of Requirements in “Deathly Hallows.” Gollum’s treachery is explained and he is given his own completion; Darth Vader is spared by Luke and allowed to look on his son with his own eyes; and the Klingons, Cardassians, and Borg are given their own sort of redemption in Worf, Garak, and Seven of Nine.

All of which is to say: it’s understandable, even natural, why people would have a hard time rooting for the antagonist, but there’s a long history of fandom peoples steering into the curve on this one. So it’s also understandable, even natural, that people want to hear stories with them at the center, both new stories about them and also versions of the original canon narrative that don’t need them to wear the black hat all the time. Some folks want Mary, Sherlock, and John to all go crime-solving together. I personally think there’s sometimes a danger of turning an antagonist – especially one who is at least morally gray (and I promise we’re getting there) like Mary is – into a protagonist without wrestling with what turned them into an antagonist in the first place; so if you want to bring Mary back to the side of John and Sherlock you need to grapple with what pushed them into opposing roles in the first place, or else risk your plot feeling “cheap” and unearned. (In fairness, this warning could as easily be directed to Mofftiss as anyone in fandom!)

But at an absolute minimum, I think it’s pretty obvious that lots of fans want to imagine the antagonists as at the heart of their own stories, and lots of fan-creators have done a really good job of providing those stories. Just as a lot of fans will almost instinctively be drawn to hate them, well, if you want to go a different path you’re in good company.

Enough about protagonist/antagonist, which as I said is more about the role the character fills in the story than about their morality or character. This, for me at least, is where it really gets interesting.

Before we get started, though, I know a lot of people struggle against this idea of morality when it applies to fictional characters and fictional stories. They’ll point out (rightly) that just because they enjoy a non-con PWP doesn’t mean they approve of rape in real life; that their reading preferences come from a different place entirely than their moral judgments. But at the same time, a lot of people (equally rightly) struggle to enjoy stories that glorify things we don’t consider worth glorifying. It’s one thing to enjoy a story about Draco rejecting the Death Eaters, returning to mainstream wizarding society and joining the Aurors; quite another to imagine him dating Harry while he’s still walking around calling Hermione a mudblood.

Or getting back to the Sherlock fandom, a lot of people are most comfortable with stories with Mary’s the antagonist because she’s got a character history and just personality traits where, if we met someone like her in real-life, we’d consider her morally bad. Or on the flip slide, those fans who want a not-evil!Mary in their stories often like to imagine her as the kind of person we’d describe as good or redeemed or some such thing, if she were an actual person. Mary’s morality, at least the morality of a similar person operating in the real world (because --speaking as a former philosophy Ph.D. student who taught philosophical ethics for years-- let me tell you: talking about the morality of fictional constructs gets very messy, very quickly), seems to matter to a great number of fans. So let’s talk about that.

I said above I thought most people would agree, Mary had parts o her character that were bad-making. What I mean is there are aspects about her that tend to make a person bad, unless they’re explained by some other factor. I’ve got in mind something vaguely similar to W.D. Ross’s theories of prima facie duties (if any of you studied this in your Ethics 101 courses- you would have in mine). Basically, the idea is we have all these duties that apply to us, but they can seem to conflict, and we may decide (rightly) in any given situation that one or the other is the more important one for us to follow. The classic example is the duty to keep our promises and prevent suffering when we can. You can imagine situations where you can’t do both- for instance, if I promised to meet you for lunch and on my way to the restaurant came across a man who fell into a ditch and twisted his ankle along a deserted road, where it’s unlikely someone else would come upon him. If I stop to help him I’ll miss our lunch date and break my promise; and while I still have a duty to keep that promise, I think most people would agree it’s more important to stop and help the person. We’d all be hard-pressed to say if I helped the stranger, I’d failed at my duty to keep a promise; at least not in the same way as if I could have kept that promise and just chose not to. That’s Ross’s idea of prima facie duties: that we have all these general obligations on us, but which actually should govern our choices in any particular instance comes down to the details of that situation.

I think there’s something similar going on with Mary’s character. This is actually a good way to evaluate most of us morally, in my opinion, but it’s doubly useful when it comes to Mary because she’s simultaneously got so many troubling aspects about her that just demand some sort of justification, but at the same time, because Mofftiss really screwed the pooch here, we don’t really have the information we need to give a definitive answer. So it’s useful to say: here’s something about Mary that needs accounting for, even if we don’t have enough information to evaluate her definitively.

Let’s take Magnussen’s biggest accusation against her: “All those wet jobs.” Mary killed people on her own prerogative, and she left behind a lot of grieving relatives who would love their revenge – both a testament to the suffering she caused, and a real risk for John, the baby that will become Rosie, and everyone else in their orbit. But if that’s all there is to it, it’s not wholly dissimilar to John’s decision to shoot the cabbie. It may have been different, but we don’t have the information to know that; it feels different, but most because John was saving Sherlock (who we know), whereas if Mary was saving anyone, it’s not someone we the viewer have an emotional connection to. Still, to borrow a phrase from Ricky Ricardo, Mary, you’ve got some ‘splainin’ to do.

Or to take an even more serious charge, Mary shot Sherlock, was prepared to make John watch him die all over again and force him to go through that grief that so nearly destroyed him the first time around. Unforgiveable, yeah? The best shot at justification here is that Mary had somehow got herself cornered, so that shooting Sherlock was somehow an attempt to escape an even worse sitation. This really demands a full meta to dive in to, but very briefly, I think Mary never intended to kill Magnussen and was instead trying to intimidate him; meaning she couldn’t let Sherlock undercut her power, but equally she couldn’t leave Magnussen with the impression that John and Sherlock were somehow her partners; so shooting Sherlock was the best way to keep him from becoming a full target of Magnussen’s. If that’s the case, the whole showdown in Magnussen’s office becomes markedly similar to Sherlock’s decision to “kill” himself on the roof of St. Bart’s. Mary is willing to cause a lot of pain to avoid even greater destruction, but at the same time, the whole situation that compels this choice was fed by her limiting her options when she decided to intimidate Magnussen. Similar to how Sherlock, once he’s on the roof of St. Bart’s, has no better option than to fake his own death and leave John to grieve; but how he does have some degree of culpability for engaging Moriarty in the first place and egging on Moriarty’s destructive obsession with Sherlock.

My point isn’t that any of these parallels really hold up to scrutiny. Sherlock risked his own life in TRF (and John’s pain) while Mary was prepared to kill another. John was ready to kill “a bad man” to save our hero while whatever murders Mary committed were against unnamed people in undetermined circumstances, and narratively certainly don’t pull at or heart strings in the same way John’s heroic killing of Jefferson Hope does. But the point is, with Mary, so much of what a lot of fans object to involve these vaguely-told stories where whatever factors would excuse her actions just are left untold. What we can say definitively is “all those wet jobs” require justification. Mary’s willingness to shoot Sherlock require justification. These things are prima facie wrong (or bad-making, the kind of things that tend to make something bad in the absence of other explanations) and demand an accounting for.

I’m focusing on Mary’s violence more than what a lot of fans have identified as her abuse toward John. Partly, this is personal: I have my own experience with abusive relationships and don’t entirely trust my ability to parse similar dynamics in fiction; certainly I don’t want to tie that part of my past to public debate, and I’ve not worked out how to talk about Mary and John without over-personalizing it. But I will say, there’s a lot to be considered on that front as well, and people interested in thinking through Mary’s im/morality shouldn’t ignore it. As a starting point, inevity-johnlocked pointed to several of her old posts making the case that Mary was an emotional abuser. silentauroriamthereal’s fic “Rebuilding Rome” looks at a lot of these issues in a really powerful way if you’re looking for an exploration in fic form. I’ll just add, even if I thought Mary was justified and so “good” in some sense (and my internal compass is so screwed up, I’m not really qualified to tell at this point), the way she chose or had to lie about her past to John seems a particularly bad match for a man like him with his trust issues. So even if you think Mary is good, there’s a lot of justification for saying she’s still not good for him.

So what does this mean for reading fics involving a kinder, gentler Mary? First, I’d emphasize there’s no shame or judgment in reading what you want. Much as writers may choose to write about all kinds of things they’d disapprove of in real life, readers have that same freedom to scratch whatever readerly itch they like, with no need to defend that to anyone else. Kinktomato and all that. On the other hand, I know I personally enjoy stories more when I can lose myself in them, and – again, for me personally – it helps me do that if my values are at least compatible with what’s presented as praiseworthy. I don’t have to guard myself as I enter the story. So it’s definitely worth thinking about how comfortable you are with fiction that vilifies Mary or pardons her or something in between, because it may make it easier or harder to really immerse yourself in a fic.

Then again, maybe that’s just me. I am a rather persnickety chickadee with things like this.

I do know that many fandoms have an unfortunate history of coming down hard on the female competition to a popular slash ship. While I’m reluctant to apply “should”s to our consumption of fiction, I think there are genuine feminist concerns here. Not with thinking Mary’s bad/evil or even hating her, but hating her for the wrong. For me, it helps to imagine another character doing something similar, and think about why I would react differently if it was someone other than Mary doing the deed. Also to be aware of the details canon doesn’t answer decisively or answers different ways in different episodes.

(More than most characters, Mary does suffer from a really inconsistent characterization. I’ve often wondered if everything since HLV was Sherlock or whomever trying on different frameworks for her personality/psychology/what-have-you, to see which could account for what she did to him. First she’s a badass villain, then a Mycroftian operative, then a martyr, then a worldclass manipulator, and finally a sanctifier whose own personality was irrelevant, giving her imprimatur from beyond the grave. And that’s without throwing veteran/maths genius and happy homemaker into the bunch. Maybe the showrunners simply weren’t sure what they wanted to do with her. Whatever the situation, I do think we need to be careful about taking any one canon detail at face-value, especially with her.)

I’m also a little discomfited by this trend I’ve seen among Johnlockers, to write Mary as a monster as a way to lessen John’s pain at her… betrayal, I guess? Or just the loss at her death? I remember when a lot of fanfic authors back between S3 & S4 wrote about the baby being fake; or even after S4, as part of John’s “alibi” rather than a true detail. Or even just deciding the baby was David’s or some such. By itself, that could have been really interesting, but what I saw so often happening was people used that as a way to remove the complication of the baby. Or to let John skip the grief he’d feel if the baby wasn’t born healthy- for instance, if it didn’t exist, or died, or if Mary was killed or ran while she was still pregnant. The basic theme was if Mary didn’t deserve John’s pain, John didn’t have to hurt for so long or as deeply.

Complicated grief is a thing, though, and for a lot of people, grieving the loss of someone who hurt them and aren’t “worth” their pain seem to suffer worse and for longer, particularly if they also have to grieve the lost opportunity to make their peace with the person while they were alive. This doesn’t mean fanfic writers or readers have to give us some kind of sanitized Mary; certainly she has the potential to be a true east wind of a character. But I do think there’s a tendency to prefer a more evil Mary because this lets the story move past her or spares John some suffering often won’t feel true. It also runs the risk of disrespecting the suffering of people impacted by these kinds of losses. So while I think this kind of characterization can be really interesting and compelling, it also takes a lot of skill and thoughtfulness to do it well. Here be dragons.

For me, though, the point isn’t to be proscriptive, to say Sherlock fic writers and readers need to limit themselves to a particular read of Mary. Her character has such potential to give birth to such a wide range of fic. As a viewer of the show I wish the writers and other creators had given us more of a sense of who she was because I think it really contributes to my frustration with not understanding the story they were trying to tell. But as a (kinda-sorta-someday-once-again) fic writer, it’s a true embarrassment of riches. The trick, for those of us concerned about Mary’s ethics were she a real person, is to be aware of the dangers of reading her character certain ways and to be cautious around them if we want to play with those interpretations.

#sherlock meta #mary morstan #marta blathers #johnlock meta

[thatwitchrevan]

‘at every moment’

summary: au scenes where Anakin does something different and better, changing his path. basically a bunch of mini fix-it fics. mild language, some canonical character death, and some mild non-canonical violence.

-

Anakin takes Padmé’s hand and smiles at her. The smile is pained and somehow hollow, even though he’s usually too sincere for his own good, and she gets the sense that despite how much pain he’s in, he doesn’t fully realize how terrible she feels. “Padmé, listen to me,” he implores her, drawing closer. “I can overthrow the Emperor and we can rule together.” He touches her cheek, soft and loving, but she wants to recoil. She can’t stop seeing the younglings he’s killed. 

“It can be just like you want,” he promises her, and his voice is as sweet as ever, but she knows all his promises are empty.

“No.” She shakes her head, and she’s crying. She’s never been more afraid in her life - seeing everything else fall apart around her was one thing, but out of anyone she thought she at least knew him. “That’s not what I want. You have to know that.”

She shudders around a deep breath. She’s trying so hard to stay strong, to think of their future and not break down in this moment. “Come with me. Let’s get on the ship and run away. Let’s go have our baby in a safe place and just be together. We can worry about the Republic another day.”

It’s a compromise, and she hates compromise, but until now she didn’t realize just how desperately she needs this family.

Anakin is shaking his head; he looks as scared as she feels. “It’s too late, Padmé. I’ve done things I can’t fix. There’s no going back now.”

“No, we’re not going back. But we can get out of here. You have a choice, Ani. At every moment you have a choice.”

She pulls his hand against her stomach, where he can feel his child kicking wildly. “Do it for your child, Ani. They need you. I need you.”

With her eyes holding him steady, Anakin finally gives in. It breaks him, but he nods, crying now because he’s messed up and he doesn’t know if he can save her on his own. He’s lost, and all he has to guide him now is her voice. She leads him back to the ship.

-

Anakin watches Ahsoka walk away, but as she gets halfway to the steps he realizes he can’t just watch anymore. “Ahsoka!”

She stops and turns, but her eyes are hard and ready to fight as he runs to her. “You can’t stop me, Anakin.”

He reaches her and pulls her into his arms without hesitation. “I don’t want to stop you,” he says, and despite how tight he’s holding her she can hear in his voice that he means it. “I want to say goodbye.”

Ahsoka freezes, then hugs him back, sighing. “You’ll be alright without me.”

Anakin chuckles, a warm and familiar sound that causes her heart to clench again and almost changes her mind. “No, Snips, I really won’t. But you’ll be fine without me, and that’s what matters.” He pulls back, putting his hands on her shoulders and meeting her eyes with a soft, sincere smile. “You’re a better Jedi than any of us, and I’m so sorry we failed you.”

When Anakin sees her eyes fill for at least the third time, he hugs her again, but loosely this time, ready to let her go. “I love you, Ahsoka, and I’m so proud of you.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and buries her face in his chest, muttering ‘I love you, too’ against his robes. 

-

“You have a twin sister,” Vader hisses, his mask hiding his surprise. He thinks out loud, tries to provoke his son out of hiding, but in his mind he’s reeling at the idea of having a daughter, wondering if she looks like Padmé. “If you will not be turned, perhaps she will.”

And that angers Luke like nothing ever has. All the threats against his life, all the attempt to subjugate him, all the betrayals of his father - that simmers quietly beneath the surface, a rage fueled by sadness. But his anger over his sister explodes into a star. Now he’s not only fighting Vader. He’s finally trying to kill him.

It would have made Anakin Skywalker proud to know his children loved each other so deeply, so fiercely, and would guard each other with the most fiery anger. He should have been there to guard them himself, rather than the one hunting them.

If only Obi-Wan hadn’t kept them from him - no. No, he reminds himself, this was his fault. He has to live with it. 

But was it not his Master’s bidding that he attack his own son? He pauses, and Luke takes advantage of his hesitation, knocking him down and striking repeatedly, furiously. Anakin tries to block with his own lightsaber, but he's getting weaker, and Luke will still kill him. Perhaps he would deserve it.

His master laughs and makes his way down the stairs, coming to watch Vader die. Why should he give the bastard the satisfaction?

“Luke,” he cries, his brain not yet caught up with his heart on what he's doing.

He has to call out a second time before his son stops, tired and seething, and looks at him with a very familiar impatience. His eyes seem to be saying 'why should I listen to you now, when I’ve given you every chance?' But he says nothing. 

“Luke,” Anakin begs again. “Will you help me?”

Luke is momentarily confused, but he seems to understand what his father means. He nods, his jaw set firm. Quickly he turns, facing the Emperor instead of Vader, his lightsaber humming ominously. 

Vader forces himself to stand, his own lightsaber held in a defensive position, and they move toward the Emperor, who has realized now what they're doing and begins to laugh.

“Fools.”

-

Anakin's ears ring with the promise of power, the ability to prevent death. He could be sure Padmé wouldn't leave him - she could have the long, happy life she deserved and Anakin could finally get some fucking sleep.

But something's wrong, and he knows it. He respects Palpatine, admires him, but... The hungry look in the Chancellor's eye, the way he knows too much, exactly how to get Anakin's attention. It's all too deliberate.

Anakin's used to being controlled. Treated like an object, even. He'd thought Palpatine was one of the few who would encourage him to make his own choices, but in this moment at the opera he realizes it's a lie. He could go along with it, see what Palpatine can offer. Or he can refuse to be controlled.

Palpatine gives him a look that's meant to be reassuring, to say 'I know exactly what you need, and I can help you get it'.

But really, it's smug. It reminds Anakin of the day they'd met, what Palpatine had said to him that day when he'd become barely less of a slave. "We will watch your career with great interest."

Anakin is quiet for the rest of the performance, and then after he says goodnight to the Chancellor, he goes quietly to the Jedi Temple and meets with the Council to report on Palpatine.

-

Leia's eyes may as well be steel when she's looking at Tarkin. Vader thinks he's rarely seen a being with more hatred, more anger. She's dangerous, that's certain. And she's more use to them dead if she won't give up her fellow rebels.

Tarkin is insistent, though. The man is almost as stubborn as she is. He leans into her space, forcing her to back into Vader to get away. "I grow tired of asking, so this will be the last time. Where is your rebel base?"

Organa seems to break finally, looking out the viewport at calm, peaceful Alderaan. She's hardly more than a child, but as far as she knows the whole planet as well as her rebellion rest entirely on her shoulders.

"They're on Dantooine," she says, defeated. Tarkin nods, unable to disguise his smug triumph. "There, you see? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He turns to the officers, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "You may fire when ready."

"What?" Whether it was hope or naivety that made the princess concede, the betrayal is palpable. Vader has been beyond caring for so long that even though to him, wasting an entire planet seems excessive, he's not about to protest. And yet there's something about Leia that cuts right to where his conscience used to be. Or maybe it's that he reminds her of someone he's forbidden himself to think about except when he's alone.

The weight of a world on her shoulders. The pain, the desperation to not let her people down.

He remembers a girl on Naboo who dressed like a servant but fought like a queen. Leia, though, is without recourse. She has no army, no bodyguards, no Jedi protectors, and she's all but dead.

Vader remembers a time he wanted to help that girl carrying the weight of a world. He wanted to save her. He steps forward, grabs Tarkin's arm instead of Leia's.

Tarkin looks at him like he's grown an extra head. "Vader, what are you doing?"

"Stop the attack." Vader looks at the officers, hoping the blankness of his mask is still imposing even in defiance of the Grand Moff. "Hold fire. Do not attack the planet."

Tarkin pulls away from him, glaring. "I am the one in power here. We will demonstrate the power of this station."

Vader looks at Leia. There is still so much anger in her eyes, but she's looking directly up into his helmet and Force, she really does remind him of Padmé. There's hope underneath that anger, fighting to the surface, waiting for a spark to ignite it. It surprises him to realize that he wants to give her that spark. 

He ignites his saber. This isn't a time for any more words so he merely acts, killing Tarkin and every other Imperial on deck in the space of a minute - enough time for someone to set off an alarm and Leia's hard look to melt into slack-jawed, wide eyed wonder as he deactivates his saber and takes her binders off. 

"Come with me," he says. "You're going home."

-

Shmi Skywalker lets out a final breath and goes limp in her son's arms. Anakin has never felt more lost in all his life.

Even through all these years away from her, he'd had the knowledge that his mother was out there somewhere, surviving as she always did. She had given him life, a name, and as much of a childhood as they could afford. She deserved so much better than dying in a desert. She deserved better than to be a slave in the first place.

She deserved a better son.

Anakin sobs as he holds her for an eternity. Only after he has no air left in his lungs and is simply too exhausted to cry does he start to move her. He lays her gently, reverently on the ground so he can stand and compose himself, think about what he's doing. He feels the burning in his heart, the anger. He wants to tear every being in this desert limb from limb, make it all pay for what's happened.

But even as his hand goes to his lightsaber, he knows there's only a few beings on this planet responsible for his mother's death, and killing any of them won't bring her back.

Anakin leaves his saber on his belt and does the very last thing he wants to do right now. He closes his eyes and he meditates.

The anger isn't going anywhere. To hells with what the Jedi say - it wouldn't be right if he wasn't angry. Nobody deserves his anger on their behalf more than Shmi. But if he kills everything he can find, it's going to change him in a way his mother wouldn't have wanted. Maybe the universe didn't care what she wanted or deserved, but Anakin does. 

He takes a deep breath. Then he picks his mother up and holds her very close to his chest.

There are a few Tuskens who try to stop him as he walks out of the camp. He reflects their blaster fire back at them and keeps walking, leaving a few burning corpses instead of a whole village. Maybe that will be enough to balance the scales without ruining his soul. Either way, he's bringing his mother home.

#sw #star wars #sw fic #anakin #anakin skywalker #sw aus #my fic #griffin writes #this is the anakin fic i was talking about \o/ #i like it. pls reblog it if you also like it. it is on my ao3 at theebonhawk #i will reblog with the ao3 link later #ty #happy star war

[luescris]

So.. My sister just said, and I quote: “If you love Zuko, then you can love Kylo Ren”, which made me run upstairs because BO Y did it make me mad. So here’s a list/essay thing I wrote under the cut explaining why they are NOT the same person in any way shape or form. 

Reasons Why They AREN’T alike:

No point to Solo’s purpose

--There was no real backstory for why he turned Dark. There wasn’t anything except him trying to become like Darth Vader, and everything he did felt forced. 

A point to Zuko’s purpose.

--He wanted to try to regain his honor back, to please his father. He was never truly evil and just wanted to go home. Solo was never literally banished and burned, he simply chose to turn away because of a small mistake Luke made. And that is honestly such an edgy thing to do (Can’t think of any other words to describe what I mean but yeah).

No point to Solo’s anger.

--Again, another thing that was forced. All his rage fits and everything just seemed like a baby’s tantrum. All throughout the movies it felt like he was just being used and no one really cared about that.

Zuko had a point to his anger.

--On the other hand, everything Zuko did was because he felt he had no other choice. He was pushed away by his own family, not the other way around. Everything that he did was for someone else, Solo did everything to satisfy himself. 

Endgames.

--Zuko didn’t have an endgame, or at least not a canon one. Unless him and May are still a thing (Though they do break up in the comics so yeah).

--Solo’s was literally fanservice. Disney had planted seeds with Rey and Finn in the beginning and had them have so much chemistry it was insane. But they pushed Finn’s character away when everyone was getting excited about a freaking Jedi Stormtrooper just cuz people wanted the toxic ship that is Rey and Solo.

Why K*ylo/R*i is toxic

--They were literally trying to kill each other.

--Yes, fine, enemies-to-lovers kind of thing. But the way Disney did it was wrong.

--They spent the entirety of the movies arguing and fighting and never agreeing with each other. He was trying to turn her into something she was not and that is not something you should do to someone you supposedly “””love”””.

--Again, LITERALLY FANSERVICE. Ask ANY other person that isn’t a fan of this ship and see if they agree.

--He tricked her. Many times. That’s just not cool man.

My personal opinions on Solo.

--He’s ugly. No shade to the actor himself but like I don’t know why but every single time I see his face I cringe. Like bruh your nose???? Wth happened to that????? Can you smell??

--I hate everything that he stands for. His parents were so kind and loving and there should have been no reason for him to push them away. There’s so many others that would kill for those kinds of parents.

Redemption arcs.

--Solo literally didn’t have one. He fought some dudes then died. That’s it.

--Zuko became nicer, calmer, such a better person than he was before. He literally struggled with everything that he had been through just to be who he was today. 

In conclusion, I STRONGLY believe that they are SO far apart from each other it’s impossible to put them in the same universe. I have more reasons as to why I think they’re different of course, but these are all things that came up in my head while writing this out (Tell me if I repeated any points at all someone please, thank you). If you all have anything to add please do, cuz this statement made me so very upset and just… Ugh. 

#star wars #atla #avatar the last airbender #disney #nick #nickalodeon #nickelodeon #atla zuko #zuko #anti kylo ren #kylo ren #anti reylo #my stuff #people please read this i need validation #i feel sick to my stomach h #luescris

[a-very-fond-farewell]

The forbidden crack! Untamed prompts: 10/?

Single Dad AU (not the one you expect): “Water my Bones”

[Pushing Daisies meets florist!au]

*

First it was the beekeeper suit. Then the astronaut one. THEN the Darth Vader costume. Every time a different attire. Lan Zhan is starting to think he better be changing grocery shop soon if he wants to fill his cart in peace without stumbling upon that weirdo during his weekly visit at the store.

Things he knows about said man: 1) he is competitive af, 2) he seems around his age, thirty five at most, 3) he has a flower shop in town, 4) he has a son.

The last thing, he knows because the child is always perched on the man’s cart when they shop. The third thing, he knows because his brother Lan Huan is the owner of the building where said man works. The second, he noticed once in passing, as they both waited in line to pay at the express line. And the first, he got to realize since day fucking one, when they entered the shop together and noticed they were following a similar path and unconsciously started rushing their way through their respective lists as fast as possible to win over the other.

It’s been four weeks already and Lan Zhan regrets moving to that part of town big time. The day he discovers something new, however, is when the florist decides to wear a simple black mask over the lower half of his face instead a full on costume. So even the usual lady clients cannot flirt with him asking if it’s yet another laundry day. The lot of them surprised to see him dressed normally for once. If wearing a black mask, black latex gloves and a black turtleneck in August can even be considered normal to begin with. The fact that he also looks unbelievably hot dressed in such a manner goes without saying. Not that Lan Zhan’s looking, of course.

Yet, it’s one thing to dress to impress and another to be affectionate towards your own child without taking your mask and gloves off not even to kiss him on the cheek or to check if one of his baby teeth is really falling off or not. So, when one of the ladies jokes about it, nobody expects the child to plainly say what Lan Zhan ends up hearing that day.

“If Dad touches my skin I’m going to die.”

The fact that said dad also conveniently runs away and forgets to take most of their bagged groceries with him right afterwards is also telling. But for the life of his Lan Zhan doesn’t know what such a dramatic exit can possibly mean.

[under the cut for details]

initially I thought to let Mo XuanYu be the baby, but then I kept A-Yuan/SiZhui. Also he is not Wei Ying’s actual son, but more on that later. ALSO he’s a savage child with snark for ages and channels every ounce of his adoptive father’s mischievous spirit.

Just like in “Pushing Daisies”, Wei Ying can revive the dead for a minute or two just by touching them [from Wikipedia: “If something is revived for more than one minute, a similar "life value" in the vicinity drops dead as a form of balance. If he touches the revived person or thing a second time, they die permanently.”]

But in this AU, ever since he was young, Wei Ying has revived a bunch of people, in the beginning without worrying too much of the consequences, not knowing someone of the same value (someone close to the revived dead person) must die if not given back to the realm of death after those two minutes.

His family used to take care of the needs of mourning families by running a funeral home. As a child he would simply touch the dead and go his merry way, happy to make others happy. But the dead would always run away, fearing their families would never take them back or not believe them to have been actually revived. Unaware of this, with bodies disappearing left and right, Wei Ying’s parents are accused of smuggling organs and corpses and are taken to prison before being put in house arrest for the rest of their sentence.

(In the meantime Wei Ying has been looked after by a new family, but after coming of age he decided to wait until the end of his parents’ sentence and buy them a house where they could live together again. In fact, he lives with them and his son) -> a perfectly rational choice bc I wanted to give them a chance to look after each other, okay? Also because a family trying to keep a common secret is fun and fresh and the exact opposite of the movie “Keeping Mum”, which is highly recommend btw.

He never experimented with the double-touch until (at fifteen) accidentally reviving a corpse of a dog, getting scared of it, and consequently smacking its tail in a (hilarious) fit of frustration bc “oh damn it... not again/go back to sleep I cannot deal with you/dogs are scary” and so on. The poor guy plopped down as if nothing had happened afterwards.

After that he learned his lesson and knew he could never touch a revived person again. Also dogs, especially dogs. They bite >:(

The first time Wei Ying actually understood something was wrong was when he was 21 and revived his stepsister YanLi, but her mother died as a consequence. He has brought his stepbrother Jiang Cheng back to life, but his own father was taken in his place. Before that time he had never considered the damage he had caused, because the consequences never involved his close ones but mere strangers up until then. So he vowed to never use his powers again afterwards.

The only exception being A-Yuan/SiZhui: the child was found in a dumpster, abandoned at three months old. Wei Ying revived him and didn’t want to wonder who might have died in the baby’s place... nor did he care. So he asked his parents to help. They’ve been raising the child together for five years, but Wei Ying has never directly touched him, always wearing gloves and masks around him.

He has also never hugged his step-siblings either since reviving them from their car accident from fourteen years back, but neither YanLi or Jiang Cheng knows the reason why. The only thing they know is that at the time, right after seeing them waking up from their “coma” and attending their parents’ funeral, Wei Ying has distanced himself from them, never to return.

(Insert shenanigans with Wei Ying trying his best not to run into his siblings, before they actually discover the truth along the way and bundle him up in quilts and coats just to be able to hug the hell out of him)

Lan Zhan is a detective and thanks to Wei Ying’s powers they solve crimes together. THEY REVIVE THE DEAD FOR TWO MINUTES and ask them what they remember before dying (which is basically the whole point of “Inquiry”, right?) and then Wei Ying touches them back and they drop dead for good.

Wei Ying knows his limits now and doesn’t play with empathy (got it? got it??)

Jin Ling has BOTH of his parents (can you imagine??) and he’s best friend with Lan Zhan and Lan Huan’s younge cousin, JingYi. And they SNOOP like nobody’s business bc they know there’s something fishy about “Uncle Wei”. But also they love to play with the other baby even if they pretend to be tough. They’re also friends with Wen Ning, who will teache them archery for their after-school activities as soon as they start elementary school and they are thrilled.

Wen Ning was actually one of the few corpses Wei Ying has revived in childhood that made it back home and was believed by others. (Wen Ning was still a child himself when he died, so he went straight back home and nobody questioned it, too happy to care......... which is basically canon)

His sister Wen Qing is the only friend Wei Ying has that knows about his secret and she’s the one suggesting Lan Zhan to..........wait a minute or two before leaving the morgue where she works at.

“You might never know what the dead could be able to say after you switch off the lights. You get me?”

He doesn’t get it. Not at first.

But! He grows interested in Wei Ying and the fact that he cannot touch his own child. Is it an allergy? Is it an illness? Lan Zhan has questions and he needs to find out the truth by himself.

Wei Ying’s child needs to be properly held by a parent at least once in his life tho... and Lan Zhan is made by very fine, very expensive husband material.

(I wanted him to meet Wei Ying’s parents. Sue me.)

Also I thought Wei Ying would like to make things grow (hence the florist!au you never asked for) bc he might feel guilty about the things he has done + his trust issues about getting attached to someone and then seeing them die AND THEN HAVING TO ACTUALLY LET THEM GO FOR REAL.

I’m sad now.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #cql #wangxian #the untamed #the forbidden crack! untamed prompts #mdzs/au: single dad #mdzs/au: florist #mdzs/au: pushing daisies

[greensword101]

Inquisitor!Kanan AU Pt. 1

Alright, this is going to sound stupid, but I’ve skimmed through a few fics where Kanan is an Inquisitor but is either a reluctant recruit or immediately becomes conflicted when he meets Ezra, his space son.

That didn’t make sense to me. An Inquisitor was a Jedi that fell to the Dark Side. And those who fall typically do so in a sense of “the road to Hell is paved with good intentions” at times or because they are disillusioned like Bariss was in the Clone Wars. In the event that Kanan ever turned to the Dark Side, I believe it would be for good intentions or because of his earlier characteristics as a Padawan (i.e. curiosity). It could be justified as Kanan was fourteen when Order 66 happened, but what if his master fell to the Dark Side prior to this right around the time she took him on as a student? Cue him becoming the Anakin to her Palpatine, except Depa genuinely cares about her student (ironic).

In this au, Depa Billiba had begun to lose faith in the Jedi Order right as she meets Caleb and she sees him as a kindred sou, especially after she learns more about the boy. One who is questioning the way of the Jedi in ways that the Council is very uncomfortable dealing with. Naturally, this feeling of isolation leads to Caleb trusting Billiba, especially when she states that the Jedi are afraid of people like him.

“But why?” Caleb asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

“Because, my Padawan,” Depa smiled, “the most dangerous weapon one can have is a weapon that can think for itself.”

Caleb, having never known his parents, having been considered an outcast by his peers, puts his faith in the first person to openly express faith in him and encourages his curiosity. Thus begins the decent of Master and Padawan to the Dark Side. Depa, who was drawn towards it due to her disillusionment of the Jedi and Caleb, who’s hunger for knowledge of all kinds would become insatiable as his understanding of the Dark Side grew.

When the Jedi Purge occurs, Caleb and Depa are spared from the slaughter, having deserted their Clone comrades and killing those who have attempted to take their lives. They go into hiding, taking work as bounty hunters or stealing whatever they can. Usually, it would be Jedi archives or artifacts that the Council wouldn’t have wanted falling into the wrong hands.

It doesn’t take long for them to be put under the Emperor’s radar and he orders them to be hunted down to join him as his assassins or die. Naturally, Depa and Caleb agree to serve as Inquisitors, out of pragmatism and because they felt flattered that their abilities were acknowledged by the Emperor himself.

Depa and Caleb stand out among the Inquisitors, being the only Former Jedi to be a part of the Master/Apprentice dynamic before the Republic fell. Caleb stands out due to being the youngest, but somehow just as brutal as the rest of their comrades as the First Sister and First Brother. The First Sister and First Brother quickly become a dreaded duo, due to their strong bond to one another and meshing together fighting styles of Light and Dark. After all, the First Brother considers “know thy enemy” to be the greatest teacher (after Depa, of course).

As the Empire looms over the galaxy, the Emperor soon realizes what a great threat the duo would become if they continued without challenge. Never mind the fact that overthrowing the Emperor never crossed either minds of the First Brother and Sister. They are content with knowledge for knowledge’s sake, freedom to act as they please, and with staying as a team. The Seventh Sister made the mistake of suggesting the First Brother was being groomed to be the First Sister’s boy toy. Her screams still echo to this day in the old buildings of Coruscant.

Through Vader, the Emperor sets up an “accident” to occur on one of the duo’s missions together. Caleb survives at the cost of his beloved mentor, who’s last words to him were “Run!” When he learns that the First Brother survived, the Emperor placed blame on Vader (true from a certain point of view) and redirects anger at his apprentice. It is a clever plan that he knew would lead to the First Brother either killing Vader and taking over as the Emperor’s apprentice or Vader dealing with a potential rival a move is made against him. Caleb knows this himself and he goes through a drastic change in personality.

His thirst for knowledge, unbeknownst to the Emperor, would lead to him desperately searching for hidden knowledge of the Force, such as saving the ones he loves most from certain death. At the same time, he becomes ruthless as an Inquisitor, isolating himself from others and seeking comfort in pleasures of the flesh and drink when the memory of his beloved mentor burns too painfully in his mind to function.

Jump to “Spark of Rebellion” time and without meeting Kanan, the chances of Hera meeting the rest of Ghost seem impossible now, right? Wrong! The Force works in mysterious ways, after all, and while she doesn’t find her crew through one person, she still manages to find the like of Ezra by herself on Lothal.

Ezra is still the same kid from canon: trusting no one, hard to think about others, a thief. And he managed to steal Hera’s heart when he tries to run off with her ship. Chopper stops him and a deal is made: work as her employee and Hera would forget about the kid trying to steal her baby. She also promises actual payment which manages to keep Ezra invested and maybe allows him to open up to her.

And through Ezra, they still manage to find Zeb and Sabine. Ezra has a brief crush on Sabine that evolves into a platonic friendship. Sabine still views the Ghost crew as a family. Zeb still smells. Chopper is Chopper. Hera is suddenly like a single mom with the distant uncle that suddenly decides to help her raise the kids.

Without a second actual adult - no, Zeb, you may be the oldest but you are at the same mental age as Ezra sometimes - Hera is probably more stressed than usual. She loves her crew to death, but it can be a bit much sometimes without a second hand to help.

But they are still the same force - no pun intended - to be reckoned with and get under the radars of both the Empire and Rebel alliance.

Ezra doesn’t know about his Force abilities for a while, not even when they are executing a rescue mission to extract an old Jedi Master named Luminara. It’s trickier without Kanan to do the mind trick on Stormtroopers, but Sabine and Zeb manage to distract the two guards in the end while Ezra sneaks in.

The first thing he notices is how weak and frail this “Luminara” lady is. The second is how he seems to feel her presence in his very bones, like an old memory. The third is another presence, a colder one that makes him shiver.

Enter the First Brother. The years since he’s turned have changed him drastically. He wears the Inquisitor uniform, with a black cape. His skin tone is pale as snow, like he hasn’t seen the sun in years. His hair is long and not held down by a ponytail (imagine it a bit like a lion’s mane) and his yellow eyes. piercing and seeming to see through Ezra.

He’s expecting a Jedi risking discovery to rescue the body of Luminara, someone who would hopefully give him a decent challenge. He’s not expecting a teenage boy who is clearly not a Jedi and clearly has never seen what a lightsaber looks like when the First Brother pulls one out.

Ezra in canon was aware of the Force existing and had been pleading with his mentor to actually teach him. Here, he’s thrown into a massive loop and straight up terrified of this new enemy who clearly wasn’t a Stormtrooper. His typical maneuvering doesn’t work when the First Brother is able to pin him down without making physical contact. To Caleb, this is just him barely using Force Stasis. To Ezra, it’s like he’s walked into a nightmare.

Ezra, now frozen both literal and in fear, has a new enemy blocking his only exit and no way to warn his team about the danger they’re in.

“How did you know Luminara?” The First Brother asked.

Ezra doesn’t respond, he isn’t sure his mouth can work and his mind is numb.

“You can still talk if you want to, kid,” the man added in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Somehow, Ezra finds his courage, “I don’t know her. I was trying to rescue her.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s a prisoner of the Empire,” Ezra tries and fails to snarl defiantly at the man, “She doesn’t deserve to be treated like this.”

“You’re partially right,” the First Brother admitted, “She didn’t deserve the fate she got. But the Empire needed a honey pot to draw in the flies.”

“D-didn’t...?”

“Luminara is dead, been that way for a long time.” Out of the corner of Ezra’s eye, he notices the pale Mirialan’s body fading away like dust in the wind. His heart stills.

After a tense moment, Ezra collapses to the ground, having been freed.

“I don’t take pleasure in snuffing younglings,” the First Brother said dismissively. “Take your friends and leave this place.”

Ezra doesn’t even bother asking how the hell he knew Ezra didn’t come alone and simply runs out of the cell. He finds Sabine and Zeb and they all flee in one piece. He doesn’t speak for the rest of the day, too shaken from his experience with the new enemy to do anything.

He has no experience with the Force. He understands he is different, but not why. And he certainly doesn’t expect to see that man again after today.

Meanwhile, the First Brother, for the first time in years, feels something close to excitement. Someone who could use the Force, someone who clearly didn’t know about the Force until just then, someone that was on the side of the rebels.

He sincerely hoped his master was looking down on him in the afterlife, because he was going to become that kid’s new teacher whether the kid wanted him or not.

To be continued...

#star wars rebels #au #inquisitor!kanan #dark side!kanan #caleb dume #depa billaba #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #grand inquisitor #kanan is thinking of getting a space kid on the dark side #ezra doesn't know about the Force #for now #maybe ashoka will help him