Is there a 300 page essay about Murderbot's armor (specifically the opaque helmet) as a not-so-subtle metaphor for masking in a clearly neurodivergent character already? Because I need it.

The way Murderbot is unvoluntarily without its opaque armor in All System Red in front of the crew (i.e. unmasking) and appears surprised at its own strong facial expressions and other people's reaction to it? The vulnerability that comes with that and how Murderbot spends pretty much the rest of the book wearing or actively missing its armor which keeps it safe from the mortifying ordeal of being known (yet sometimes other characters suggest it might help for it to not opacify the helmet in order for others to see it as a person and to trust it (and in the end idk if it would have achieved the rewards of being loved by its humans and have had its needs met if it hadn't unmasked in this relatively safe environment sometimes)).

Also there's the whole avoiding-looking-directly-at-people-and-using-drones-instead thing which Murderbot usually hides using the opaque helmet, but whenever it doesn't have that people notice it and many react negatively/confused. I think that's a whole neurodivergent-applicable situation in and of itself? Like damn

And then Mensah encourages Murderbot not to wear armor on Preservation station since it would not need it there, Murderbot is hesitant but ends up not wearing any (like 4 books later when we finally get to that bridge) (going for the comfortable clothes it chose for itself instead, with very strong feelings about the whole being able to make choices thing that I cannot go into further at this point because I would absolutely end up BITING SOMETHING OR SOMEONE).

And I'm not going to advocate for unmasking all the time in any setting because hell no, sometimes it absolutely sucks and people are irritated by Murderbot's now visible quirks and are afraid of what they don't know, but many GET TO KNOW Murderbot better and because there are other people that make sure Murderbot is safe and respected and are willing to get people fired for it if they disrespect it (Pin-Lee my beloved) Murderbot can experiment with this situation without being exiled to some abonded part of a planet and other people are forced to spend enough time around ot to learn to respect it and even like it. I just....... It must be so scary and Murderbot is handling so much at once and in this essay I will

PS sorry this is a disorganized mess but so am I and I have so many Thoughts and even more Emotions and so little patience.

8/25/22

I had a 6 hour fight with my Mom tonight. I wish I could act like that's an abnormal thing, but over the past 3 years, 6 hours is actually pretty average. And this happens pretty much every 1-2 weeks, at least once a week.

It went the same it usually goes. If she even talks about her day, which she did today, and I offer any kind of help or perspective, it is quickly rejected. I try to urge a bit more, because I actually do care and want to offer some of the thought-tricks that I've learned in dealing and coping with similar situations. I want to contribute, be involved in her life. The more I try, the worse it gets. I get treated like I "told her she's doing it wrong", or "told her she reacted wrong" or something. I get yelled at. I clearly show my hand immediately, nothing up my sleeves, just offering my perspective and how I think there's more positivity in her life than she's noticing, and the negative is very overinflated. Cheering her on, urging to come a bit closer to the light, optimistic side for a bit. But I remember how sissy and lame and arrogant the Jedi looked when I thought Sith were cool, too. That's probably how I look. Like some smug Jedi Master on the Council, like... shit, who would I be... Not Yoda, I'm not there yet, though I do have my days when I feel that way. Not Mace Windu, too gung-ho. Well shit, am I Obi Wan now? Standing by the doomed Sith - loyal, faithful, refusing to give up until the last possible moment?

Crap. Well at least he got to live a full life.

Well after getting pummeled for trying to be nice for an actual hour, the 20th time of explaining myself seemed to be the right number and she started to get that maybe she made a mistake there. Then we transitioned into asking how I am. Well... see... years of therapeutic environments have trained me to just get the fuck over it and be honest about how I'm feeling. I think it's a good thing, it's like speaking in AA or group therapy or something, I think it's a good trait overall. But some people just really don't like the truth. Either about themselves, or others, or the world as a whole, I guess. They just really don't want to know my honest thoughts. Yet... they ask how my day was. My response? I'm depressed because my family and friends don't really like any of my art, music, writing, performance, interests, or thoughts really, it seems. I'm not being entirely fair, I do have one friend who does care about these things, though he does have a lot of things demanding his attention so it can be hard for me to hold it for very long sometimes. The rest - don't seem to care less about pretty much anything in my life unless it's something THEY already like. Go figure, right? .... I mean... once you say it out loud it's like... yo, you're just really fuckin selfish, aren't you? Bah, try telling them that.

I said I was glad to finally start connecting dots and find the reason why I don't have a sustainable business right now. I'm glad I found the missing piece. The shame is that the missing piece is how much other people around me value me, both personally and publicly. Which is pretty much the only thing I can't control about it. The only thing that literally anyone BUT me can do something about.

What do I get as a response? "What are you offering them in return?", "can't you just do it yourself?" I get told pretty much the opposite of what I'm saying. That I'm not "creating enough value" for others. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard that, I would have bought my own fucking island by now. Then I start getting told ways that I can find support, the real fun go-to one I've heard like a goddamn thousand times now is this fun idea where the way I get people to share my work (art, music, writing, streaming, youtube) with their friends is for me to go out and get a full-time job, with the intention of meeting coworkers (or even, dare I say, management staff!) and then... well I guess the theory she has is that I'm going to share my art and music and shit all the time with them and for some reason they're going to like me. You know, because I got my job to hang out with people instead of like... working... and my primary motive is to basically advertise my business to them 24/7 in an environment where they literally can't leave without getting fired. Yep. Trapped with the guy who's talking about how he's reeeeal talented at art and shit, of course he is, that's why he's working here, it all makes sense.

I'll tell you what that DOES do. It gets family and friends off the hook. Doesn't it? Find some complete random stranger to take on the super strenuous work of actually being supportive and involved in your family/friend's life. Ugh, don't you just absolutely hate when you have to listen to your friend's shitty music or else they'll just get all sad and shit, then you have to like sit there all emotionless and annoyed while they're crying and shit about "it's like we're not even friends". The worst, so awkward.

After seeing so many people like this, I now have a huge phobia about being like this accidentally. Like, if someone is trying to connect with me and offer me something, or open up to me or something and I completely overlook it. It actually haunts my dreams, honest. Because that has been like... my entire life. Overlooked. Abandoned. Near-feral. Thrown scraps. My interests are "not for them". I'm "acting out". It's "defiance". My whole fucking life. I started with asking for my needs to be met. I learned very quickly that I can't do that, because that equates to questioning whether they had been met in the first place, and questioning that implies that someone failed. Someone screwed up. And she doesn't screw up. Trust me. Then after a very long time embracing that fear and holding my tongue, I relearned how to speak my mind and how to ask for help. And, wouldn't you know, I started seeing some horrible shit come out of people. So if I see someone reaching out to me to connect, or share something of themselves, I try my very best to drop everything and be there. To really engage with the moment. I try to convey as sincerely as I can how big a gesture it is and how much it means to me. Because of that, I'm really paranoid of just overlooking those, or missing them. Not giving those close to me the things that I am steadily deprived of.

So yeah, that was pretty much my entire day. I woke up, chilled with Max, made a new cover setlist for streams/open mic nights, hopped in the shower, went to the river and looked for jewelry stones, just being one with nature a bit, then the second I got home it was fighting until 2 AM. Now it's 7 AM and I'm just finally now feeling... I guess safe and relaxed enough to try to sleep. I want to capture and savor this window while I can so I'm gonna go smoke a bit more and try to pass out.

I was gonna say I feel bad cutting this short but for fuck's sake, everything I write is like 5+ pages... so big round of applause for all you bookworms out there, getting through X pages of listening to some chronically abused person in their mid 30's bitch about how they put up with this regularly so that they don't have to accept that they don't have a family anymore and... never really did. Womp womp.

Thanks for taking this moment out of your day and sharing it with me, I've never written about this publicly before.

Commander Buir

Follow-up to this post. Not in any particular order, just spitballing ideas, with contributions from several friends on discord.

Like presumably it takes long enough for them all to meet up again that Anakin and Cody do, in fact, end up treating each other like family, just so I can have that good good "well, guess I'm Dad now" energy. Shmi isn't entirely sure what's going on but she's not a slave anymore and her kid seems to like this rando mando, so.

Anakin gets to have a mom and two dads, though one of the dads is arguably younger than him.

Also when they all meet up again and Cody explains the "General Skywalker got shrunk" thing, there are three reactions: (General) Obi-Wan: Oh, Anakin. Obi-Wan: [gestures to take him, ends up with an armful of clingy padatoddler] Anakin: You can't blame this on me, Obi. Obi-Wan, a little teary, because babies cause emotions: Of course I can, you absurd human being. ------ Rex: That's... my general. Anakin: I am, Captain. Rex: Cool cool cool I'm gonna go stand where I can't, uh, break you. Anakin: I'm not THAT fragile! ------ Ahsoka: [gasp] Skyguy is SKYKID! Anakin: Padawan, this is-- Ahsoka, grabbing him and cuddling: Oh my goodness you're adorable this is the best day ever. Anakin: This is humiliating, Snips, put me down. Ahsoka: Never.

Anakin hates being a toddler because of the lack of independence but Cody keeps picking him up when he's cranky and just holding him until he falls asleep and that's... nice.......

- The brain limitations aren't quite as bad as the situation with Sokanth and Ylliben in the other AU, but - Even if his brain is mostly adjusted he’s still got a tiny body with different needs that he’s not used to. Like, he needs to sleep more but he’s got more energy than usual when he’s awake and it’s all weird.

Cody carrying around toddler Anakin like "God you give me ulcers but you're adorable, you little shit."

Inconveniently tiny body aside, Anakin has a pretty great time in this au. His family are all together and safe and within reach. His wife isn't around, but toddler brain means he doesn't have the Romance Drive, so that's not as bad as it could be It could be significantly worse.

@atagotiak asked: Does Anakin get annoyed about being called cute? - To which I say, He bites the first few times but Shmi tells him that's Naughty so he stops. - Babies are cute so you packbond with them before they’re annoying, Anakin is cute as a self defense mechanism - He’s extra annoying so he needs to be extra cute

You know how you need to keep an eye on toddlers so they don't, like, fall down the stairs or put something toxic in their mouth? - They need to keep an eye on Anakin specifically so he doesn't rewire the ship they're in while they're in hyperspace. - He has less self control on account of being smol. He still has all the mechanical knowledge! Just less comprehension of y’know, consequences.

Anakin, with a sippy cup: This is demeaning. Ahsoka: Your hands don't work great enough to avoid accidents yet. Anakin: It's still embarrassing.

General Kenobi can't just kill Maul, not when Maul is baby right now (sixteen, which is baby enough) so he just. Kinda. Kidnaps a baby Sith. (It's fine. He's fine.)

General Kenobi (not to be confused with Padawan Kenobi) decides to declare Maul his new padawan because someone has to deal with this teenager, and Plo already claimed the rest of Ahsoka's training. And Anakin's three, so.

"What do we do with Maul?" "Eh, I can handle him. I dealt with teenage Anakin getting arrested for illegal pod-racing twice a month, I can work with this."

Maul bites, but only slightly more often than Anakin, it's fine

Ahsoka definitely bullies Maul whenever possible

Consider: Rex holding very still because Anakin wanted to be tall, so he climbed Rex. Being unexpectedly climbed is better than being unexpectedly yeeted. It's still extremely nerve-wracking. - Cody is perfectly capable of running around with a backpacking toddler General, but Rex freezes like a statue. - Ahsoka finds this hilarious

You know how little kids like to be thrown around and swung in circles and stuff like that? This must get even more ridiculous with force users. Can throw a child real high and catch them safely. - Rex panics whenever Ahsoka throws her chibified Master

Literally everyone except Rex loves being yeeted. Even Maul can appreciate a good tactical yeet no shut up he's not having fun this is TRAINING - Rex is Suffering - Cody, a very Tired Dad, deserves to mock his vod'ika a little, as stress relief - Rex, a certified Little Brother, shoves Cody off something tall. Jokes on him, Cody thinks freefall is fun too.

Tia asked: So the people who didn’t exist yet got flung bodily back in time and Anakin did the mental time travel. Why did Obi-Wan not become Padawan Kenobi? (I mean “because I want it that way” is def a good enough answer I’m just wondering if there’s any reason.) - Which, well, it really was mostly "I want to" but here's two options, both of which come down to Blame Daughter and Father. 1. They figured a responsible adult Jedi Master was needed to convince people. 2. Nobody was supposed to get de-aged but Daughter figured they needed to make Anakin less liable to kill things for a few years. - Also IDK the Force God-Manifestations also took away any risk of rapid aging and early death from the clones because uhhhhhhhhhhh I said so

Rex and Ahsoka are fumbling their way through a relationship where ages are just really confusing and awkward, so they're keeping it to just kisses and cuddles for a bit.

Cody is so tired he doesn't even realize anyone's hitting on him until it's been three years of co-parenting with Shmi and his General. - Somehow Anakin knows Cody is in a relationship before Cody does. Cody has never been so embarrassed. - How did he manage to be less observant than Skywalker? -- it was sabotage; all his brain cells were taken up in managing said Skywalker -- Because Skywalker was up at three in the morning whacking a training droid with a stick so he didn't have the energy for Relationships

Also Shmi's come-ons are super subtle, while the General's are... well, Cody's gotten very used to ignoring anything ambiguous on that end because fraternization rules, and also because Obi-Wan flirts a lot with everyone. So.

Please imagine Cody and General Kenobi walking around with Anakin tucked into a toddler sling while they do whatever work they've ended up with at the Temple. - Yes, Cody is helping the Jedi figure out the best plan of attack to take down this slave ring because his grasp on tactics is phenomenal and he knows how to deploy people at greatest efficiency, but also he's got a nosy toddler on his hip who keeps offering his own insane-but-competent ideas. - General Kenobi ends up with a Council Seat just on account of, like, being the kind of person he is. As often as not, he's got Anakin tucked into his robes, chewing on the ear of a stuffed tooka or something.

IDK what Shmi's doing but apparently Legends had it that some of the administrative and support positions in the Temple were held by non-Jedi civilians? So probably something like that.

GENERAL KENOBI LECTURING PADAWAN MAUL WHILE ANAKIN'S BALANCED ON HIS HIP AND GLARING AT MAUL FOR STEALING HIS DAD

General Kenobi: Ahsoka's babysitting. Anakin: I'm her master, I don't need babysitting, this is-- General Kenobi: Fine, then you need supervision, so that you don't blow up a training salle again. Anakin: And you think Ahsoka would stop me? General Kenobi, eye twitching: Fine, I'm leaving you with Plo.

Even if he’s mentally an adult Anakin always needs supervision Look at canon! Anakin was left without supervision for like two days and he became a Sith

Quinlan gets distracted by how attractive General Kenobi is and tells Obi-Wan "dude, you're gonna be so hot once you can get rid of the stupid haircut" and Obi-Wan pushes him into the nearest pond.

They end up with this weird "Uncle Jango" situation (uncle to Anakin, via weird brotherhood-ish to Cody) because Rex and Cody are just like "Uhhhhhhhhh yeah okay" about him eventually, and Jango just like. Drops by. Trying to Earn Affection Of Blood Kin by bringing weird gifts for them and their (ugh) Jedi.

"Okay, Rex'ika, I stopped by Shili--" "What?" "--and apparently this is a delicacy there, so just... your girlfriend will like it." "She's not my girlfriend." "..." "Okay, I can't call her my girlfriend. Jedi have rules about that sort of thing, and--" "This will make your Jedi happy, probably. Just take it, kid."

Baby Anakin got his arm back but for some inexplicable reason still has The Eye Scar. He matches Buir.

Catch me thinking about sith Anakin who got in a fight w/ Palps (did Palps cross a line? Did Anakin decide he had nothing to lose? Idk), barely managed to win and is now seriously hurting and a little freaked out winding up outside Obi-wan's quarters and Obi-wan doesn't have time to draw his saber let alone figure out how a sith lord managed to get so far into the jedi temple unnoticed and Force is that blood? before Anakin's passing out with only a murmered request for help.

LISTEN you can’t keep sending me perfect prompts, how do you know I can’t resist bloody men on their knees begging for salvation, how do you know me so well??? anyway here’s 2.3k of always-a-sith!Anakin who could have been the new ruler of the empire but said ‘no thanks, this is too much responsibility, I would like to be pampered by my favourite jedi now’ (with a bit of Ahsoka as Obi-Wan’s padawan!)

 He didn’t mean to kill him.

Well, not at first.

He didn’t mean to kill Sidious, but pulling his lightsaber from his lifeless corpse only felt like complete satisfaction. A weight on his shoulders he didn't know he carried disappeared, letting him stand up above the body of his master— former master, and gaze upon what was left of him. A shapeless form on the ground. A dark cape around an old man playing at being a god. A begging mess of futile promises when he realised it was the end for him.  

As mindless fury leaves him, his ragged breathing slows down and his fist unclenches around his saber. Sidious is dead. Now that the adrenaline rush is gone, his knees start shaking. His Master is dead. His face is wet with sweat and blood and tears. Dead and now Anakin has no one.

And then...  And then fear.

"You know," Ahsoka groans as the water starts boiling, "I don't understand how you got your reputation of Cool Jedi Master. Other padawans think I'm lying when I tell them you wear the ugliest slippers at home and gets excited by new tisanes."

"You gifted me those slippers."

"As a joke. And you still wear them."

"I'm not going to throw away perfectly good slippers." Obi-Wan wiggles his toes under the red and yellow fuzzy monstrosities, just to see his padawan rolls her eyes. "And they're really comfortable."

"So you're just going to stay there, then? Your whole battalion is out celebrating our first day of leave since forever, but you prefer to drink your tea alone and go to bed at 22:00?"

"No one wants an authority figure around when they're letting loose and celebrating, Ahsoka," Obi-Wan says, pouring hot water in his cup. He raises the kettle towards his padawan as a question, to which she shakes her head. "I thought you would be happy to see me putting sleep before work for once."

"I am, Master, but I thought it could be..." She trails off, fidgeting with the hilt of her sabers. For once, she looks like a typical padawan, just like he was at her age, dying to enjoy one night away from the temple and any kind of responsibilities.

"It's alright my dear," he sighs, "you can join them if you want."

Ahsoka suddenly perks up. "I can?"

"If you're old enough to be sent to the front, I think you can handle yourself for one night on Coruscant."

"Thank you Master! I promise I'll be careful and not come back too late!"

"You do that, and-- wait, Ahsoka," he adds as she's already halfway through the door, "make sure to stay around Cody! And no alcohol of any kind! And don't lose your lightsaber at sabacc again!"

"That was you!" she yells from the end of the corridor, "don't worry, I'll be fine! Don't wait for me to go to bed! Goodnight Master!"

Obi-Wan smiles, blowing on his cup. He already sent a message to Cody earlier to keep an eye on her, so he knows she's in good hands.

He has his herbal tea, his ugly slippers, no reports to read or write, and no immediate Separatist menace to plan for. For once, a perfectly good night to catch up on sleep and meditation.

So, of course, something has to be wrong.

The Force is bright. The Force is lighter than it has ever been for the past few years.

And Obi-Wan can't understand why.  

It's not just him that can feel it: Ahsoka has acted chipper since, more like the teenager she is, laughing with the clones and playfully teasing him the whole fly back to Coruscant. The temple has felt livelier than ever when they arrived, Jedi from all ages going about their day with a new spring in their step, greeting each other warmly in the corridors. Even Master Yoda has taken a few minutes during their Council meeting to note the shift in the Force. No Master could pinpoint the origin of this change, but all agreed that something good happened somewhere in the galaxy, and they were just feeling ripples of the effect in the Force.

Still now, the whole temple feels a bit more like it used to, before the war, and all Jedi are a bit happier without knowing why.

Only Obi-Wan feels like a noose tightening around him. Whatever it is, it's slowing making its way around his presence in the Force. Focusing on him and him alone. Doesn't matter how much Obi-Wan tries to hide himself, it's getting closer and never slowing down or losing interest.

Needless to say, Obi-Wan has a bad feeling about this.

But after almost three years of war, sullen faces and grim expressions, he doesn't feel like dampening the sudden good mood around the Temple just with a few words. He can probably deal with whatever it is by himself.

His tisane is cold when he finally emerges from his meditation. Nothing is clearer than when he started: the Force is deaf to his questions and inquiries, still light as a breeze. An airy unconcern for his restlessness. And yet, a thick pressure still looms around him, getting heavier each passing second now.

His fingers start pulling on his collar.

The clock on the wall indicates that he lied to Ahsoka when he said he was going to bed at a respectable time today. No diurnal Jedi would still be up right now, but he still considers going out to knock at Mace's door. Narrowed eyes and a very long sigh will be his first answer, but Obi-Wan knows that Mace would never refuse to hear him out. Yes, he finally decides when the pressure seems to creep even closer to him, it's worth waking up Mace.

He opens his door, wondering if he should take his robe with him, and instantly stops walking.

There, in the empty corridor of the Jedi Temple, at his door and on his knees, is a Sith. He knows it's a Sith only because he recognises this specific mass of hair, the large shoulders, the dishevelled dark robe. He knows it's a Sith because he has crossed path with this one enough times on the battlefield to recognise him anywhere. Outside of it a few times too. He isn't sure it's a Sith when the Sith raises his head up, bloody and bruised face torn in an agonizing expression, and his eyes are blue.

"I— I didn't know where to go," Darth Vader says quietly, with the kind of voice expected from a lost child. It gives Obi-Wan a second shock to hear his voice, making his presence suddenly real. "You said... You said if I ever wanted to, if I needed help one day, you would— I could—"

Obi-Wan remembers it. He remembers all the times he offered his help. His pleas for him to stop the violence, the appeals to reason, the multiple suggestions of a gentler path. His hand continuously outreached but never taken. He remembers the burning gold of the Sith's eyes too, and his black cape floating above the dead clones at his feet.

His laughter the first time Obi-Wan brought up the idea of lowering their blades and talking around a cup of tea. His sneer the third time Obi-Wan tried to change his misconceptions about the Jedi Order and play-flirt with him in the same breath. The silence the fifth time Obi-Wan asked him his name, his real name, the one a parent gave him.

The tears the last time he gave it to him.

"And you're always trying to save me," Vader adds more forcefully now, like the words anger him, "you're always here, showing up almost every time I'm sent somewhere with your stupid smile and stupid words, and you're always nice, and... and teasing, and disappointed when I kill someone, like you expect me to be better, and I don't understand you, but..."

Vader raises his hand towards him, and it's only this sudden move that shakes Obi-Wan out of his stupor. Before the Sith can touch his leg, Obi-Wan calls his lightsaber to him, ignites it in one fluid motion, half-expecting Vader to be up and swaying his saber in his face by now. But the Sith is still on his knees, and it's only now that the blue light of his blade is above him that Obi-Wan realises the state he's in. His face isn't the only thing bruised and battered: his dark tunic is stained with blood and ripped in more than one place, one of his arms is bent in an unnatural way, and it looks like a cut above his hairline is still bleeding, making his curls stick to his face in a mess of wet hair and burned skin.

"Vader," Obi-Wan says slowly, when his thoughts finally regain a semblance of coherence. A rapid investigation through the Force assures him that no other enemy is around and the calm and quiet of the night in the Temple isn't a prequel for a storm. "How did you get in here? What are you doing here? How—"

Vader's hand, stuck in the space between them, reaches once again for Obi-Wan. Foolishly, Obi-Wan lets him. His fingers twist themselves in the fabric of his pants.

"He made me killed them all.” Vader wobbles on his knees for a second, the hand on Obi-Wan's leg gripping it tighter. “No platoons, no battle droids. Just me. He sent me to the power station and I cut through them so easily, so quickly, they didn't even fight back, and I didn't think that..." he trails off, panting. "Until.... until I saw the electro-whips." 

"Are you talking about Naphtla?" he asks when Vader doesn't seem to be able to continue.

Naphtla. Outer Rim. Barely on the Republic radar until this afternoon, when nearby troops answered a distress signal and found a hidden Separatist power station operated by slaves. A third of them were dead, killed only a few hours before, and the survivors turned to the Republic for immediate support. Slaughtered like animals, the rescue team reported to the Council only a few hours ago, by one single man wielding a red lightsaber. According to witnesses, the darksider cut through the slaves like bantha butter, killing everyone in his path without discrimination, until he stopped for no apparent reason and abruptly left.

"You were the one who killed the people at the station there," Obi-Wan realises out loud, horrified, "the slaves from Zygerria."

Vader snaps his head up and his fingers tighten painfully around Obi-Wan's knee. "I DIDN'T KNOW!"

All Obi-Wan's senses and logical thoughts urge him to back out, put an end to this nonsensical charade, raise his lightsaber between them, get away from the dark, hungry void Vader generates in the Force.

But his eyes are looking up to him. Gripping his gaze with the same intensity as his hand on his leg. Bloodied face and pleading, on his knees. Full of tears.

Obi-Wan doesn't push Vader's hand away.

"I didn't know they were slaves, I didn't!"

"Vader."

"He never said! He sent me without telling him, he knows I don't—" A small noise sounding suspiciously like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

"Vader, who sent—"

"When I came back," he tries again, quieter. Obi-Wan opens his mouth to ask about this he, but Vader's head lolls for a second, too heavy to support, before butting gently against Obi-Wan's leg. Vader makes no effort to move, content to stay there, and after a second, a small, almost timid nuzzle against his thigh sends a series of shivers through Obi-Wan's spine. It shuts him up instantly. "When I came back, he looked at me for so, so long, before saying that he knew, he knew I was going to fail, that I was... just like them after all, and that I could never... And I was so mad, so angry at him, so I... I..."

The last words are muffled by the fabric Vader clings to. Hides into. There's blood on Obi-Wan's pants now.

"What have you done, Vader?" Obi-Wan asks, softer than he intended. "Vader," he asks again when no reply comes, without success. The hand not holding his lightsaber moves, hesitates for a moment, then settles lightly on Vader's hair, mindful not to touch any open wounds. His fingers nudge him to tip his head back, gently, carefully, and settle on his cheek to hold his face up, looking at him. "Anakin." His name, his true name, makes him blink a few times. "Anakin, what have you done?"

"I killed him," he finally admits, barely audible. He looks exhausted, more like a child in need of rest than ever.

"Who did you kill?"

"My master."

"Dooku? You killed Dooku?"

"No," Vader— Anakin frowns, like Obi-Wan should know better. "Sidious."

It's a bit much to process in one day. Another Sith Lord, Vader's master, concealed and kept a secret, now dead, killed by his apprentice —and does that make Vader the ruling Sith Lord now? Do Sith have rulers?— the lightness in the Force the same day, a half-dead Vader begging for help in the middle of the night in the Jedi Temple, and all of that while Obi-Wan is still wearing his ugly slippers.

He's so glad he sent Ahsoka away for the night.

Anakin doesn't let him time to feel the migraine coming.

"I can't do it, I can't be my master, I can't— and Dooku hates me, he will never help me, even if I let him have it all, he will never..." Vader seems to run out of steam, and lets his eyes close as his head falls once again against Obi-Wan's thigh. Closer. "You said you could help me. You said I could come to you at any time. You said you would always be there if I didn't want to... do this, anymore."

"I did," Obi-Wan assures him, his hand lightly petting his hair again.

Anakin lets out a long breath. His fingers tighten on the fabric of Obi-Wan's pants, loosen, and tighten again.

"You're the only one I trust," the Sith quietly tells the Jedi, and it's the saddest thing Obi-Wan has ever heard.

Okay look I really wanted to see Cal so maybe something Cal?? Like maybe he’s holding reader after something scary happens or while she cries (cause I’m currently crying after that new episode) love you lots 🥺

Oh, I’m always soft for Cal. The best boy! I’ve got some softness right here for you 🥺

Star Wars Masterlist

»»————-　♡　————-««

You sat up rod straight in your bed as you tried to gauge your surroundings and figure out exactly where you were. You breathing was ragged as you clutched your wildly fluttering heart and came to the conclusion that you were safe. Safe and sound in your own bed as Cal slept away next to you. He seemed nonplussed as he remained still, his chest rising and falling in a steady fashion, light snores emanating from his mouth.

Safe.You were safe.

But the visions and dreams that plagued your sleep often seemed so real, so vivid and technicolor that you were almost positive that they were real. The flashes of the red saber and the heavy breathing of the Sith Lord called Darth Vader seemed like they never subsided. More often than not, you were left tossing and turning throughout the night. Ever since Cal’s acquisition and destruction of the Holocron, the minor pull to the dark side that was ever present seemed to grow stronger and stronger.

And no matter how much you mediated, to try to clear your heart and mind of the anger and fear you were hanging onto, it never seemed to work. Maybe for a day or so, but then the nightmares were right back and plaguing your mind. And you hoped that’s all they were and would remain. You didn’t want to think about what it mean if they were more than just dreams.

Sighing heavily, you wiped away the already drying rears, before slipping out of bed to make your way to the kitchen. BD-1 must have sensed your sudden presence because he immediately was at your side as you filled a tall glass with fresh, ice cold water. Offering him a weak smile, you quickly downed it all and almost slammed the glass down on the counter. The small droid chirped eagerly as you bent down and got closer to his level.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, answering his question as gave him a pat, “I’m sure it’ll get better soon. It’s just me."

The small droid offered you a series of small beeps of reassurance before he perched next to your leg. Picking him up, you held him against your chest in a tight hug, already feeling better.

"I don't want to worry Cal," you murmured softly, "he's already got so much on his mind. I don't need to worry him about this too."

He made a small sound as you nodded in understanding, "I know. If it doesn't get better soon, I'll tell him. For now I want to give him a break too. He's been through just as much as we have, if not more."

He looked at you with such gentleness that you almost forgot he wasn't a person, but a droid. Although, he was much more than just a droid. He was a part of the little family you'd made with Cal and the rest of the Mantis crew. BD worked his way onto your shoulder and a sense of warmth immediately washed over you. At least there was someone in the galaxy that you could talk to.

Its not that you didn't want to tell Cal, but he needed rest too. He'd been through so much both mentally and physically, and he deserved the rest. Your little fears were not significant enough to further worry him with. Not yet anyway.

"If it doesn't get better I'll tell him soon," you promised yourself and BD. He made a small trill of agreement as you walked back to your bedroom in order to try and get some actual rest. If nothing else, the feeling of Cal's body next to you would be grounding and calming.

»»————-　♡　————-««

Your throat felt tight. Tighter than it ever had. Black dots and a soft haze started to cloud your vision. Each breath became harder and harder, more ragged with every inhale. Your chest was on fire, and yet there was nothing you could do.

You tried to scream, for help, for Cal, but nothing happened.

Your hand went to your throat as you tried to make any sort of sound. The silence was deafening, but then out of the darkness you felt it. A hand on your shoulder, squeezing it tightly before you heard it. That modulated breathing that sent shivers up and down your spine.

And then -

"Turn," it was a single word that was enough to cause your heart to constrict as it echoed throughout the blackened space, "turn, turn, turn."

As you tried to wander and navigate the darkness, you felt your body being jostled. It was so startling that suddenly your eyes opened and vision cleared into the bleary darkness of the late night hours.

"Hey, hey, hey," Cal's hand was on your arm as he gently moved to wake you up, "honey-"

Once you realized you were in the sanctity of your bedroom, you calmed down, even if it was just for the moment.

Turning to face him, a small broken sob escaped your lips as you looked at the concerned expression of your lover.

"Cal," it was a soft, broken whisper as he pulled you into his lap and wrapped his arms tightly around your frame. He rubbed a hand up and down your back in soothing circles as you cried into his shoulder, the fabric of his shirt immediately becoming wet with tears.

"Its okay," he promised with a kiss to the side of your head, "I've got you."

You wished you could have more easily expressed your words, how scared you were, but all you could do was cry as he held you, whispering soft words of love and reassurance in your ear. Ever the gentle and caring man that he was, he didn't pressure you to speak or open up. Instead, he let you get it all out, and held onto you as tightly as possibly, trying to radiate all of his love onto you.

Eventually, when you were all cried out and felt exhaustion slowly washing over your tired bones and heart, you pulled back and looked into his soft eyes.

"Cal," your voice was dry and harsh as he reached up and delicately wiped away the remainder of your tears. He rested his hand on your cheek as he worked to bring you back into reality and ground you. You keened into his touch before pressing your forehead against his and eventually giving him a sweet kiss. He tasted familiar, sweet but always with a hint of mint. He was your comfort, your heart and home, "I'm sorry...I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said with the smallest hint of a laugh, "you were having a nightmare. You can't help that."

"I know," you sighed as you felt your eyes start to burn with the sting of tears again. He senses what was going on, putting a hand to the back of your neck as he gently cradled your head. His soft touch - comfort - was enough to send you over the edge as you began crying again, "I-I was so scared, Cal."

"What happened?" his voice was low and gentle as he did his best to soothe you, "in the nightmare?"

"I.. they're been happening a lot," you admitted, "ever since you destroyed the Holocron."

"What?! Sweet girl - why haven't you said anything?" Cal was in awe as he tried to possibly imagine all the pain and hurt you'd been dealing with on your own. He would have taken it all away from you in an instant.

"I didn't want to bother you," you hiccuped through your tears, "you deserve rest too, my love. You of all people..."

"As do you," he promised, "I want you to know that whatever it is, you can always wake me up or anything. I am with you always."

"I love you," you whispered as you carded a hand through his ginger locks, "thank you for everything. For loving me. All of it."

"I love you too," he replied with a soft kiss, "whats been going on - in your nightmares? You've been having them often, haven't you?"

"Yes," you let out a long, tired sigh, "they're always about the same thing..."

"Vader," he finished for you, sensing that it had to be what seemed to haunt you. You gnawed on your bottom lip as you nodded, "he’s been in my nightmares too. Not as often, but he's there."

"I can feel it," you let it all out before deciding to hold anything back from him, "the pull...to the dark - away from the light. It scares me sometimes."

"I feel it too," he said as a way of reassurance, "and so does Cere. Its normal, you know it is. We all experience it in different ways. But it doesn't mean anything. As long as we remember who we are."

"Okay," you searched his eyes, although as it desperately trying to see if he was being honest. You show nothing but honesty and adoration staring back at you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you held him as close as physically possible, "I don't know what I'd do without you, Cal."

"I feel the same about you," he pressed a kiss to the side of your head, "you'll always get through everything together. I promise. You have me - always."

Before you could say anything else, a soft beeping meet your ears from the foot of the bed. You both turned to find BD look excitedly at the two of you.

"Come on," you motioned for the small droid to join on and he wasted no time in hoping up on the bed and settling down on your pillow, "hi, BD. Thank you for always being there too."

"Don't know what we'd do without you, buddy," Cal agreed as he laid back down and pulled you down to lay on top of your chest. He wrapped his arms around your middle as your laid on his chest, "we should all try and get some rest. We all deserve it."

"Love you Cal," you murmured sleeping, already feeling sleep wash over you again. This time you knew it would be better, much better in the safety of your lover's arms, "and you too, BD."

Whumpay 2021

DAY 9: GENTLE/BRUTAL

It’s a couple of days late but I started writing it dammit so I’ll finish it ha

Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala

Warnings: Implied/referenced abuse, torture, neglect, blood and injury

Summary: Anakin doesn’t become a Jedi after the Battle of Naboo, but is instead snatched up by Palpatine and raised secretly as a Sith. Years later, known to the Galaxy at large by a Sith assassin in service of the Separatists, Darth Vader makes the decision to rescue Republic Senator Padmé Amidala from execution by the CIS. Injured in the escape, he is left at the mercy of Senator Amidala to treat his wounds.

***

“Stay still.”

The weight of the small, slim hand on his chest was so gentle compared to the usual touches that he was used to enduring that Vader half thought he was hallucinating it through the pain of the blaster wound in his shoulder, but it stilled him just as surely as his master's biting grip promising violent punishment should he not comply. Eyes which he knew to be a soft brown, but which the red lenses of his mask painted a deep black, stared down at him, and the face of Senator Padmé Amidala swam before him, pale and wan and worried. Her Force presence, which had been full of equal parts determination, suspicion, and confusion in the mad dash from the cell which had meant as her coffin, had lit up with a heady mix of fright and concern when he had run his saber through the last of their pursuers only to stagger and collapse to the ground as the pain in his shoulder that he had barely felt in the heat of the fight finally caught up with him. He could feel that concern now, wearing down his tired shields, with all the force and all of the gentleness of a wave roaring up to shore in the wind only to break softly over rough sand like a gentle caress.

“Vader, can you hear me?,” Padmé asked. Her voice was tight and distressed, and he felt a sharp spike of fear from her like a shard of ice through his heart. “I need to know if you're awake. I— You're losing blood. You have to stay awake—”

“I am...” Vader gritted his teeth against the burning pain in his shoulder. “I'm awake.”

Her relief felt like a cooling balm in the Force. It was baffling and pleasant and terrifying all at once, and when he tried to untangle the mess of emotions from one another, he found that he had no idea where one began and the other started. Why should she be relieved that he was awake when him being unconscious would surely have provided the perfect excuse to escape both his company and the Separatist-held space she had found herself in? Why would she be concerned for him in the first place? And what's more, why should he find himself reaching out to the sensation, wanting more, when he knew it was the very antithesis of what he should desire as a Sith?

You know why, said the small, snide voice in his head that had come over the years to sound very like his master's. His master who had always said, between vicious bouts of Force lightning that left his skin painted with a map of thin, spiderweb scars, that his biggest weakness was his need for attachment. It was like a leech bleeding him, Sidious claimed, and that all he did to him was to stem the flow that was draining his hatred, his resolve, to make him strong. Well, if his attachments had been comparable to open wounds, he thought, he had just ripped out his stitches. Rescuing one of Tyranus' prisoners meant for execution, killing his men all because of little more than a week's worth of memories from a past life? Damaging himself fighting against his own side to save a sworn enemy of the Sith? His master would be so angry, and his punishment—

“Good. That's good.” He was brought abruptly out of his spiralling thoughts by the sound of ripping fabric, and with a wince and a bitten down groan, he shifted to see where the noise was coming from. To his astonishment, he saw that Padmé was ripping off sections of her soft white cloak with an expression of fierce determination on her beautiful face.

“Wha—?,” he rasped, then tried again. “What...are you doing?”

Padmé didn't even pause from her task. Bundling up one of the strips into a ball, she leaned down and pressed it firmly against the entrance to his wound. He hissed at the contact, the sound too quiet to be picked up by his mask's vocoder.

“You're bleeding a lot,” she said by way of explanation. Even though her worry sung as loud and clear in the Force as ever, her voice was now as full of determination as the expression on her face. It reminded him of all those years ago when she returned to Naboo—full of her plan of action, ready to carry it out and damn anything or anyone that tried to stop her. “We need to keep pressure on the wound.”

I know that, Vader wanted to say. Of course he knew that. It was hardly the first time he had been hit by a blaster bolt. Nor was it as if he had never had to treat his own injuries. In fact, as long as it was not too far beyond his abilities to fix, his master demanded it—getting injured was a result of his own weakness, and it was only fair that he was forced to deal with the consequences of his own mistakes. What he did not understand about this, however, was why she was bothering to help him. You didn't show your enemies mercy, and you certainly didn't show them care. Her concern and relief had been strange enough without adding this to the mix, and really, he was starting to feel far too dizzy and faint to try and figure out the reasons behind it on his own. But he did not say any of this to her. Instead, what he said was:—

“You're ruining your cloak.”

Not for the first time, he was glad of his vocoder, for it transformed the pathetic almost-whimper the words came out as into the deep, unwavering tones that his enemies knew him by. Yet it didn't seem to make much difference to Padmé's reaction, as he felt a stab of shock in the Force, her lips parting in a soft 'o' and her brows turning upwards in a frown, before his senses were overwhelmed with a heavy, concerned sadness.

“You're hurt,” she said quietly, slowly, as if she were trying to soothe a wounded animal. “That's far more important than keeping my cloak intact.”

Oh. He didn't— He couldn't—

“Do you need that mask to breathe?” Padmé asked all of a sudden.

“I—what?” His brain, muddled and too full of fog to register what she was asking him, stalled.

“Vader,” Padmé repeated gently. “Do you need the mask to breathe?”

“No, it's— No.” The mask was to hide his identity, Sidious had claimed when he had first gifted it to him. He didn't see much point to it, personally, other than perhaps to hide his youth and to give him a more intimidating voice—at this point, not even his old friends on Tatooine would have been likely to recognise his face—but his master was always very insistent upon it, that he never remove it in front of enemies. But why would Padmé want to know? He didn't understand—

“Can you keep this—,” she nodded towards the cloth, stained dark with his blood, that she was holding against his wound, “—pressed against your shoulder while I take your mask off?”

His mind, still too sluggish and slow for his liking, had taken in the first part of her request long before he could take in the second, and by the time he had registered what she intended to do, he had already taken the rag from her hand and was pressing it down against his wound.

“No!,” he exclaimed, somewhat belated, as a sudden sharp panic stabbed through him. “You can't! You can't—”

Padmé frowned.

“Why?” she asked.

He should lie, he knew. He should make up some reason or other, but he couldn't—

“My master,” he said. “He's forbidden me— He will be angry if he finds out—”

Padmé's frown deepened at the mention of his master. The Force was once again flooded with that overwhelming sense of sadness.

“I don't think your master will be pleased with you saving my life either,” she pointed out, not unkindly. “Vader, please. You're losing blood and I can't tell how bad it is if I can't even see you underneath all of— I need to get that mask off you.”

As much as he wanted to, Vader couldn't argue with her logic on either count. He had already made his master incandescently angry by saving Padmé from the execution the Sith had had planned for her—after that, nothing would cool his ire, and keeping his face hidden would have seemed like a poor appeasement in comparison to his crime. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

He felt Padmé's relief in the Force for the second time that day, soft and bright as it was before. It was met with his own apprehension as she reached down, a frown of concentration upon her brow, trying to figure out how to release the helmet's mechanisms. All of a sudden, he was unsettled, not just on account of his master's orders, but by the realisation that Padmé would see his true face. The face that he had kept hidden from all except his master and Tyranus ever since he had been snatched from Naboo as a child. He felt very like that child now, trapped, helpless, caught in the horrible awareness of his own vulnerability—the same vulnerability that he had fought so hard to burn out of himself long ago. He— The mechanisms of the mask clicked and whirred, and the comforting, stifling black plastisteel was pulled away from his face and set on the ground beside him.

“Oh.” Though he could hear Padmé's voice, he could not quite make out her expression—he was still adjusting to the burst of light and colour his eyes had been assaulted with after the dull red of the mask's lenses. “Oh Force, you look pale. Are you usually that pale?”

Vader blinked. The brightness had faded to a more manageable level, and he could now see her face—the first time he had seen it in full colour since the Battle of Naboo, rather than in varying shades of red. She was as beautiful as he remembered, even drawn, white-faced, with dark, tired circles under her eyes, and her expression half one of open-mouthed shock, half one of fierce concern. He blinked again, trying to take in her words.

“I'm usually pale” he said, his words coming out as a soft croak. Years of isolation and darkness in the Works of Coruscant and the deep chambers of Sith temples had rid him of the golden tan his home planet had given him, turning his complexion a pallid white, save for the dark shadows painted beneath his eyes by just as long of fear and stress and lack of sleep. Combined with the limp tangle of curls atop his head and the yellow of his eyes, he was sure he must look quite the wretched sickly creature to her eyes. A far cry from the fearsome image his master had intended him to strike with his enemies.

“Right.” Padmé let out a breath, rubbing the back of her hand against her forehead. Then, before he had time to register what she was doing, she had brushed a few stray strands of hair out of his eyes and pressed the flat of her palm to his own brow. He jerked back in surprise—or at least he tried to. With his head already lying on the ground, it came out as nothing more than an odd little twitch. “You feel a bit cold. Really, I'm not qualified to deal with this kind of injury—especially not without bacta. We need to get you to a proper medic. Fast.”

“My ship,” Vader hissed out. “There's a med-droid and supplies on the ship.”

The ship that he had intended for them to escape in throughout their pursuit from Padmé's cell. It was not so far as to be a problem for two healthy, uninjured people to reach, but with him wounded and losing blood... Above him, Padmé seemed to have seen a hint of his thoughts upon his face, for she frowned.

“Do you think you can reach it?”

“Yes.” No. Perhaps. No, he could do it. He had done it before, pushed through far worse agonies and triumphed against the limitations of his body. He was a Sith—pain only served to fuel his power, give him focus.

Blood loss, however, a snide little voice in the back of his mind that he steadfastly ignored said amid a new wave of dizziness, is rather harder to turn into something useful.

“I'll...have to bind the wound” he said.

“Alright.” Once again, the presence of a solid plan seemed to fuel Padmé's determination as much as pain did his strength, burying her worries beneath a thick wall of resolve. She stripped off another length of fabric from her cloak, and he reached out his trembling flesh hand to take it. She shook her head.

“It will be easier if I do it.” He could still sense an undercurrent of fear beneath her determination. Fear that she would do something wrong, that she wouldn't be able to get him to a medic on time. Despite herself, it scared her in a way that he could not understand, no matter how he tried. “If you can just—”

“I can do it” Vader interrupted as she gestured for him to pull his hand still pressing the cloth to the wound away, so that she might access it. Despite his confusion at her concern, despite the knowledge that she was his enemy, that she didn't know to look upon him as anything but an enemy, he didn't think Padmé would hurt him. She had no active malice in her—not like his master, and the med-droids that followed his orders when he was dealt any serious damages that required attention beyond his own. But the instinct to recoil, to not let anyone near when he was so vulnerable was too strong. He pressed the cloth clutched in his mechno hand tighter to his shoulder, shying away from the reach of her fingers. Padmé frowned.

“Let me, please,” she murmured. “I can't help you if you don't let me.”

He didn't want to let her. He didn't want to let her—let anyone—near. Her worry felt sharp and jagged, like broken shards of transparisteel, and despite himself, he wanted to soothe it. She wouldn't hurt him. She was an enemy. She wouldn't. He sensed no cruelty from her, no desire to cause pain. She wouldn't— Slowly, reluctantly, he drew his hand back, and let her approach.

Padmé's fingers were soft and gentle as she pulled back the tattered fabric of his robe to get to the injury beneath, but he froze dead still at the touch nonetheless. Her concern spiked higher in the Force at the sight, but she didn't waste time in getting to work. The pressure from his hand against the wound was soon replaced by that of the rag tied tight about his shoulder. He couldn't quite hold back a quiet sound of discomfort as she accidentally jostled him tying the knot, and her Force presence gave an odd little flinch in apology.

“Sorry,” she muttered. “Sorry.”

Vader blinked, confused.

“It's fine,” he said. Really, what was she apologising for? He couldn't remember having been treated so carefully since the days when his mother had treated his scrapes and bruises after he crashed his podracer, or after the worse of Watto's beatings. But no, he didn't want to think about his mother. He had shown enough weakness in front of his enemy for one day. “We should get to the ship.”

He tried to sit up—they had to get to the ship fast, before any reinforcements came looking for them—but his body seemed to have other ideas. His shoulder screamed in protest, but he barely noticed it through the fierce wave of dizziness that had suddenly overcome him. It was worse than the previous ones—nauseating, causing his vision to swim so violently that the world turned into a blur before him. When his vision finally sharpened again, he was lying on his back, and Padmé was bending over him, white-faced, one hand gripping his prosthetic tight where it lay against his stomach.

“I don't think we're going to get you to the ship,” she said shakily. “Perhaps I could bring it here. If I can get to it—I'll be faster—then I can fly it here and the med-droid can see you—”

“Why?”

It was the question Vader had been burning to ask ever since the injury had overwhelmed him. Why was she doing this? Why did she not take the opportunity to save herself when he would only slow her down? When he was her enemy, as far as she new, a Separatist assassin, a Sith, a danger to everything she had ever worked for and believed him? Padmé, however, didn't seem to understand him, for she frowned down at him in confusion.

“Why?” she echoed.

“Why...are you helping me?,” he insisted. “You...you could escape back to the Republic much easier if you left me.”

Padmé drew back sharply, though she did not let go of his hand.

“I'm not about to leave you here bleeding out on the ground when I can do something about it!” she exclaimed, indignant.

Vader frowned.

“I'm your enemy.”

“My enemy who just saved me from being killed,” Padmé retorted. “You got shot protecting me. That's more than just helping someone treat their wounds. You could have been killed! If anything, it should be me asking you why you chose to help me.”

Vader was silent. For what could he say? What could he tell her? That no matter how much his master tried, he had not been able to fully crush the affection that she had sparked in him when she had stepped into Watto's shop all those years ago and showed kindness to a little slave boy who had thought she was an angel? That despite her opposition to all his master and the Sith intended to achieve, the thought of her death rended his heart in two? He could barely even believe he was that boy most days; how could she possibly believe it? How could he reveal to her the monster that boy that had once risked his life to help her had become? Even if he had wanted to, he would not have been able to find the words. So he said nothing, focusing on the pain and the heady faintness so that he wouldn't have to think of her disappointment reverberating in the Force.

“Alright,” she sighed. “If you don't want to tell me, that's your choice. But whatever your reasons, you still saved my life. I'm not about to repay you by abandoning you. We're both getting away from here. Together.”

She spoke so fiercely that despite the pain from his wound, despite the blackness that threatened to encroach upon his vision every time he shifted, he could almost believe her. It was foolish, the kind of naïve idea he had once believed with all his heart, and a habit that his master had taken great pains to break him of. And yet— And yet, he wanted... He wanted— Padmé squeezed his hand tight. Though small, her grip was strong and steady, and her eyes shone with a fierce light.

“You saved me. Now I'm going to save you. No matter what.”

Binary Sunset Ch 1: The Prophecy

Story Summary: Obi-Wan finds himself decades in the future on the ship of a Mandalorian that seems like the last thing he wants is to be sidled with another lifeform. Or two, because suddenly they have a little...tiny... Yoda to deal with. Not actually Yoda, Obi-Wan knows, but still. It's weird, and stressful, and there's an entire Empire that's come and gone (going?). He just wants to rest. Figure out what exactly has happened and maybe, maybe find a way to stop it, if he ever gets back to his own time. Better that than wallow in misery and pain of a past he got plucked from, yet still feels the pain of.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30771671/chapters/75953153

    Obi-Wan rubs his face. Christophsis-- and the entire ordeal with Jabba the Hutt’s son-- has been incredibly tiring. And this is only the beginning. The only thing he has to look forward to now is more fighting, more war, and the exhaustion that comes with it. Jedi aren’t generals. They shouldn’t be in this position. But who else would be able to? The army was made for the Jedi. They’re fighting against Sith. There’s no other option, really. And so peacekeepers become the leading force in a war that barely seems to make sense.

    Cody left him a cup of tea a few hours ago. He glances at it, but it’s long gone cold. He supposes things could be worse; after all, Christophsis had been an approximate success, all things considered. While there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, that doesn’t mean one won’t come. Quickly, even. Stay positive. He sits back in his chair. His quarters are small, but he’s not particularly bothered by it. A Jedi doesn’t need worldly possessions. Even… even if they do enjoy them, sometimes.

    The world seems to flicker around him. Obi-Wan pauses, looking around. No, everything is just fine, just as it should be. But what..? He could’ve sworn something just happened. I need some sleep, he decides. I’m starting to see things. No need to have a repeat of the time Anakin decided to stay up for three days straight and forced me to do the same.

    The world flickers again. This time he’s ready for it; he sees gray metal walls and a space not much larger than his quarters. Then everything is right once again. A ship. I’m hallucinating a ship? He stands. Perhaps a bit too quickly, because the world twists in a spout of vertigo and he very suddenly collides with the floor, face first.

    He groans. His nose hurts, now. What the kriff?

    There’s a blaster pressed to the back of his head. That shouldn’t be there, not at all. None of his troopers would do that. Have I been poisoned? And someone has snuck onto the Negotiator to kill me? No, that doesn’t make sense. Why poison me and shoot me? Maybe they want to take me prisoner?

    “Who are you?” A voice growls, sounding just so slightly off from a vocoder. His attacker is wearing a helmet, then. Maybe this is some sort of a joke from the troopers..?

    Obi-Wan frowns. “You’re in my quarters.” He mutters. You should know who I am.

    “...What?” The voice says.

    Obi-Wan lifts his head from the floor, ready to tell his attacker off (it’s unlikely they’ll shoot him now if they haven’t already, him being an annoyance be damned), only to freeze. This isn’t his quarters. This isn’t his quarters at all. It’s some sort of… cockpit? He really can’t see much from his position on the floor, unfortunately.

    “Ah, nevermind.” Obi-Wan says. “I’m afraid I have no idea where I am.”

    His attacker grunts. “Who are you?”

    “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

    “And?”

    He raises an eyebrow, despite knowing his attacker can’t see it. “And what?”

    “How did you get on my ship?”

    “I have absolutely no idea. I was on my ship, and then I was here. I don’t even know where here is.”

    There’s a pause. “Turn over.”

    Obi-Wan does as told, rolling onto his back. He keeps his hands carefully out in the open. His attacker-- or apparent partner in crime, if they’re both equally confused with the situation-- is an armored Mandalorian. Obi-Wan studies the shiny silver helmet for a moment, and then moves to the rest of his armor. Rusty red paint covers most of the rest of it. He wears a tattered black cape. The Mandalorian continues to point the blaster in his face.

    “You really don’t know how you got here?”

    Obi-Wan shakes his head. “I was in my quarters, on my ship. The world seemed to flicker around me and I thought it might be from lack of sleep, so I stood to walk to my bed. I got dizzy and fell, and then you put a blaster to the back of my head.”

    The Mandalorian tilts his head. “One second I was alone, the next you were on the floor.”

    “It seems we’re both a bit confused about this.”

    “Yeah.” The Mandalorian says. After a moment, he lowers his blaster. “Where was your ship?”

    “Orbiting Coruscant.” Obi-Wan shifts. “Where are we now?”

    “Heading to Nevarro.”

    Nevarro. Hm. He can’t say he knows where that is. He says as much.

    “It’s in the Outer Rim. Coruscant is Core, right?”

    “Right.” Obi-Wan agrees. “Seems I’ve managed to travel from the core worlds to the outer worlds in… I’m really not sure how quickly, actually. Or how.”

    They lapse into silence. There really isn’t much else to say. Yet there’s very much to say. But how to say it? Where to begin? And Mandalorians haven’t worn armor like this in years, if he’s remembering correctly. Not mainstream Mandalorians, in any case. The New Mandalorians. Jango Fett had been an outlier himself. Perhaps when Satine… this Mandalorian may not have wanted to give up his armor. It would explain why he’s in the outer rim.

    “If you would bring me to Coruscant, I would be very happy to pay you for your efforts.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Ah, after you bring me there. I don’t believe I have any credits with me at the moment.”

    “Are you Imperial?”

    That’s- what? Imperial? He frowns. “I’m not sure what you mean?”

    “Are you Imperial?” The Mandal- Mando- repeats, more insistent. “Were you a follower of the Empire?”

    Something grows in the pit of his stomach. “What Empire?”

    “The Galactic Empire? The one that ruled the galaxy for almost three decades?”

    Oh, no. This doesn’t make any sense at all. “What, ah, year is it?”

    Mando’s helmet tilts. “Nine.”

    “Nine? Nine what?”

    “ABY, I think. Why do you want to know what year it is?”

    He presses his lips together. “I think… I’ve never heard of the ABY calendar, and if it’s used on Coruscant now... and there hasn’t been an Empire in a very long time.”

    “The Empire fell about five years ago.” Mando says flatly. “So yes, there has been an Empire lately.”

    “Well, then something is seriously wrong.” Obi-Wan says. He swallows thickly. “I suspect I may not be in the time I should be.”

    “Like… time travel?”

    “Like time travel.”

    Mando sighs. He steps back, collapsing into his pilot’s chair. “I have no reason to believe you.”

    “Well, I have no reason to believe you, either.” Obi-Wan sits up. He crosses his legs. “Except, of course, that I’ve somehow managed to appear on your ship with no discernible reason.”

    Mando grunts. “Right.”

    Something occurs to him. He has no frame of reference as to the date, when his time is in relation to the one he’s in now. If he’s in the past… or the future. He doesn’t know the ABY calendar, but it’s something that could easily be lost to time and renaming conventions. But Mando might be able to help with that. “How long ago did the Clone War occur?” If it’s occured at all.

    “A few decades.”

    “Ah, so right on time for the Empire, then.”

    “Yes.”

    I need to meditate on this. He sucks in a breath. “So, the Clone War occurs, the Empire takes over, a few decades later the Empire collapses, and a few years later here I am.”

    “Are you from the time of the Clone Wars?”

    “Right at the beginning. I think. Enough for me to have suspected it would be known for years to come, which seems to be the case. Well,” he rolls his shoulders. “At least if I manage to make it back to my time I’ll have an idea of what to stop in the future.”

    “I don’t think one man can take down an empire.”

    “I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have the entire Jedi Order to help.”

    Mando glances at him, tilting his head yet again. “Then why didn’t they stop it in the first place?”

    “I-” A feeling of cold dread washes over him. “I couldn’t say.”

    “Well, I’ve never heard of a Jedi Order--”

    “You haven’t? Not at all?” Obi-Wan asks. His chest is tight.

    “No.”

    “Oh, kriff. Oh, kriff.” He squeezes his eyes closed. “Every word out of your mouth only serves to make me feel worse.” Mando doesn’t say anything to that. Obi-Wan swallows. “Do you mind if I meditate here?”

    “Go ahead.”

    He should tell Mando his name. It’s only polite. “My name is Obi-Wan, by the way.”

***

    Obi-Wan meditates the rest of the way to Nevarro. He cracks an eye open to stare at Mando as they enter the atmosphere. “I suppose you have business here?”

    “You could say that.”

    “And I suppose you won’t want to be seen with me if you don’t have to?”

    “Not really.”

    Obi-Wan grimaces. He stretches. “Is Nevarro big enough that a newcomer won’t be noticed?”

    Mando pauses. He glances at Obi-Wan. “You should stay on the ship.”

    He quirks an eyebrow. “I would have imagined you’d want to be rid of me as soon as possible.”

    “I do. But I want to know why-- and how-- you’re here more. I’ll do my business in town, you stay on the ship and don’t touch anything, and when I’m done we can talk more.”

    “And if I want to stretch my legs?”

    That earns a glare. He can tell, despite the helmet, that Mando is glaring at him. “Then make sure you blend in.”

    ...Alright, he doesn’t actually want to piss Mando off more than he already, unwittingly, has. So he sighs. “I’ll stay on the ship. For now. Would you mind at least telling me the business you have here, or is it confidential?”

    Mando stands, taking a moment to stretch (as much as he can, wearing all that armor). He walks to the door of the cockpit. “Bounty hunting.”

    And then he’s gone. Obi-Wan hears him moving around on the lower levels of the ship, and then the door opens, closes, and he knows, for the moment, that Mando is gone. With a groan, he lays back, letting his hands flop and hit the floor maybe a little harder than what’s comfortable. He stares at the ceiling.

    I am not where I was. That’s the only truth he has. I am not on my ship like I am supposed to be, and I don’t know how I got on this one. He might have been drugged, kidnapped, and Mando is lulling him into a false sense of security. To be turned over to the Separatists and the droid army and Dooku. Make it seem like he time traveled to keep him confused. Don’t let him out of the ship or he’ll realize it’s all false.

    Or, he really has time traveled. Space traveled, too, without a ship or any other obvious means. One second he’s here, the next he’s there. Time travel is so… unlikely. Unheard of. Fanciful, strange, absurd. And yet it cannot be ignored. I am not where I was. I have traveled through space instantaneously. Why not add ‘traveled through time instantaneously’ as well? Is it really that much less absurd?

    He’d meditated on this all already, but it’s a topic that’s impossible to just let go of. He just… circles through the thoughts, theories, over and over again, to try to make sense of it. There’s no sense to be had. It must be the will of the Force, and the Force is rarely easy to understand. It’s still exhausting, though, and no amount of meditation will truly fix that, so for the time being, Obi-Wan allows himself to fall into a shallow sleep.

***

    He wakes to Mando standing above him, helmet tilted slightly to the side. Obi-Wan peers at him. “Yes?”

    “Get up.”

    Ah, so maybe I have been drugged and kidnapped. “Where are we going?” He asks as he does so.

    “There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

    They leave the cockpit, go down a ladder, and Obi-Wan finds himself in the main part of the ship. It’s small, crowded with a lot in a little space. Mando shoves something into his arms. Obi-Wan looks at it. He looks back at Mando. “A coat?”

    “Make yourself look less posh. Take the robe off.”

    He does as told. He’s not entirely sure that just exchanging his Jedi robes for a beaten up coat will do much, but he won’t argue. It’s not like they have a lot of options, after all. Mando clearly doesn’t wear coats. He doesn’t think much of it as he leaves his robes in a pile on the floor and follows Mando out of the ship.

    They walk through the streets. They’re fairly busy, with people at various stalls along the streets buying this or that. Nobody pays any attention to them, except for a small glance here and there. Mando must be old news, enough that they won’t even pay attention to his companion. They turn down a side street, and then another, and Obi-Wan really doesn’t pay as much attention as he should because suddenly, they’re underground.

    In a dimly lit cave system.

    He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. His hand twitches to his belt, where his lightsaber is, except-- it isn’t there. Of course it isn’t there, because he’d set it on his desk, confident that if he needed it he could grab it easily from the desk and move on to whatever he needed it for. He doesn’t have his lightsaber. He doesn’t even know where to begin looking for it, or if it’s even worth it. Obi-Wan shoves down the discontent curling in his stomach. A Jedi’s lightsaber is their life, yes, but a Jedi is not useless without it. Only at a disadvantage.

    They turn a corner. There are more Mandalorians here, sitting along the walls in chairs and carved outcroppings. This must be their home, he realizes. Are they hiding? Nobody says anything as they pass, but he can feel their eyes boring into his skull. They don’t want him here. Why did Mando bring him? Because somebody wants to talk to me?

    Mando leads him into a room. It’s a forgery. Obi-Wan watches the flames of the forge for a moment, lost in the blue-white of them. A Mandalorian with a gold helmet sits at a small table.

    She tilts her head. “Sit.”

    Obi-Wan knows she’s talking to him, and he takes his place in the chair across from her. Mando stands behind him. Obi-Wan knows without looking that he practically towers over him. To anyone else, it would be intimidating. Obi-Wan isn’t particularly concerned.

    He nods his head respectfully. “I’m afraid I’m not entirely sure what this meeting is about.”

    “Our bounty hunter came to me and told me of you. I wish to speak about what may have brought you to his ship.”

    “I see.” It’s what he expected, really, and nothing more.

    “I am this covert’s Armorer, and it’s leader. You are a Jedi.”

    “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.” He says, expecting something of a similar reaction to Mando’s.

    “He said.” He would almost call her voice amused. “I know that name, even if he doesn’t. And I know your face. You are either the true Obi-Wan Kenobi, or you are a very good fake.”

    A smile twitches across his face. “Oh, I’m the real Obi-Wan Kenobi, I assure you. Whether that’s good news to you, or bad news, I suppose I can’t say. I can say, though, that I really don’t know how I ended up on that ship.” He shrugs. “The will of the Force, I suppose.”

    The Armorer hums. “Indeed. You must have a lot of questions.”

    “I do. And I’m sure I have many more questions I don’t yet realize I want to ask. Is it… is it true there was an Empire?”

    “Yes.” The Armorer’s voice is heavy, if not in emotion then in the finality that she says it. “The Empire destroyed much in its reign of power. Your Jedi order being one of them. Alderaan. Mandalore. Many more planets, many more people. Even with the Empire gone now, the galaxy is still trying to find order.”

    He hates the way his chest constricts, how his throat feels raw. He swallows. It doesn’t do anything. “Are you the last remaining Mandalorians?”

    “There are others, scattered, as I expect there are other Jedi scattered and hiding. Not as many as there once was. Not living as we once did.” She looks at him, she’s been looking at him, but somehow, her gaze freezes him with its intensity, filtered as it is through her helmet.

    Gold, for vengeance. Red for honoring a parent. Or perhaps the colors of her armor have no meaning at all.

    “Mandalorians and Jedi were enemies, once. We fought great battles and adapted to the others’ weaknesses. But now is not the time for enemies. I am no Jedi, and I hold no esteem for the Jedi way of life. The Force is real, however, no matter the name it is called by, and I, too, believe that you were brought here by the will of the Force.” She leans forward almost imperceptibly. “You are here for a reason, Obi-Wan Kenobi. So you will stay with our bounty hunter and discover that reason.”

    He licks his lips. “I can certainly do that.” I have nowhere else to go.

    With that, he’s dismissed, and he follows Mando back out of the sewers and into the open air, turning over the conversation in his head. Mando must have known this was coming from his previous talk with the Armorer, or if he didn’t, then he knows she isn’t one to cross.

    When they step onto the ship and the door closes behind them, Obi-Wan turns to Mando. “So… where to next?”

    “Saleucami.”

    “Oh… lovely.”

Fun

(For Chapter One of this series, Monsters and Masks, please click here. ) Author’s Notes: I am not conforming to the norms of Chiss aging in my head-canons. For the record, Ashara is 21, here, while Ozibaumnu is 22. “My lord… may I ask you a personal question?” Ashara Zavros, Jedi Padawan, spoke even as she continued to trudge a few steps behind her ostensible master, Lord Kallig, across the icy plains of Hoth. The two were heading back to their shuttle at Dorn Base after successfully seeking out the Force ghost of the ancient Sith Lord Horak-Mul and persuading him to allow himself to be bound to Kallig. All this with the ultimate goal of challenging Darth Thanaton, who had been hounding Kallig, Ashara, and their crew for as long as Ashara had been with them. 

Hoth was barely habitable; it was essentially a freezing orb of snow and ice floating in space. Fortunately, both Ashara and Kallig were well-dressed for the frosty climate, wearing heavy cloaks over their normal robes and thermal garments beneath. Kallig – with the customary generosity she’d come to expect from him – had even provided her with thermal sleeves for her lekku and montrals. She couldn’t imagine where he had come by the garments that seemed to fit her perfectly and were clearly designed for a Togruta like herself. (Perhaps he had met a synthweaver in all his travels?) Regardless she was grateful for the protection and touched by his attentiveness. 

The cold had proven to be too much for their speeders, so they’d ultimately been forced to park them a few kilometers short of the base and were now heading the rest of the way on foot. 

(Tauntauns would have been more practical, Ashara knew. But the smelly, hairy beasts bothered her and even Lord Kallig hadn’t been keen on them.) Kallig paused in his step and turned towards Ashara. He was still wearing his black and silver skull-mask, one Ashara now knew was the legacy of the infamous Kallig bloodline. The mask gave him a foreboding look, an appearance that he’d carefully cultivated, he’d later confided to Ashara. Allies and enemies alike responded more promptly – and more predictably – to the mask than to the Sith Lord’s actual face. Most who encountered him knew him only by his growing reputation; the man beneath – a relatively young Chiss – was ‘unimportant’ in the grand scheme of things, he’d claimed.

(This was especially important, Ashara noted, considering Chiss serving in the Sith Empire often faced considerable prejudices, even those among the Sith.) Ashara, personally, much preferred him without the mask. “Only if you promise to remember that you don’t have to call me ‘my lord’ when we’re in private, Ashara.” Kallig’s tone was gently teasing, and she could almost feel his slight smile behind it. “Call me Ozibaumnu, or you could even follow Andronikus’ lead and call me ‘Ozi’, if you like. Its only in front of others that we need to worry about titles and formality.” He gave her a casual shrug. “Such things are quite important among the Sith and Imperials.” She was touched by his consideration, but she didn’t fail to observe that although he nominally served the Sith Empire and was a Sith himself, he didn’t personally identify himself as an Imperial. That is an important distinction. Ashara observed, filing that nugget of information away for later. “Okay. Ozibaumnu.” she gave him a hopeful smile. “I was just wondering… what does a Sith Lord who isn’t committed to the dark side do for fun?” He’d turned towards her fully now, his head tilting to the side. He had shown her a great deal of patience thus far, arguably far more than her old Jedi masters had. Ashara couldn’t imagine asking that kind of question to Master Ryen or Master Ocera. Indeed, it wouldn’t have ever occurred to her to do so. But Lord Kallig was different. Different than the Jedi. Different than Elios Maliss, that Sith acolyte on Taris, and different from ever other Sith she’d met since then. Different than how she ever imagined a Sith Lord ever could be. Different from anyone who Ashara had ever met, really. “Fun, hmm?” he queried. “Yeah. Fun. You know. For recreation. For enjoyment. Just… you know… fun.” She emphasized. How could she explain the concept of fun to someone who she was starting to suspect had never experienced it? Lord Kallig seemed to be chewing something over. He finally reached up and undid the clasp on his mask, pulling it up and over his head. Ashara had seen only two examples of Chiss in person before she’d met Ozibaumnu, and both had been allied with the Imperial military, seen from a distance. After she’d joined the Sith’s crew, she recalled finding his red eyes unnerving at first, but she had become much more comfortable with them over time. The stark contrast of the red against his dark blue skin was rather exotic. His face was heavily scarred; Ashara knew the marks were from his years as a slave but had never pressed him on the details. (She imagined the stories must have been horrifying.) Still, she privately admitted to herself that his high cheek bones and raven widow’s peak hair were not unattractive. When she’d first met him, of course, he had been wearing his Kallig mask and from the way he talked, she’d imagined him being … well, much older than he was. Later, when he’d revealed his actual face back on his ship, it was only then she realized first that he was Chiss and second that he was only a year or two older than she was. Ozibaumnu often seemed a completely different man to Ashara in private. Or without the mask. Or when she thought of him as ‘Ozibaumnu’ and not ‘Lord Kallig’. She was only now starting to understand that he needed to put on the show of being a ‘dark and imperious’ figure to discourage other Sith and Imperials from targeting him or his crew. This was the culture of the Sith Empire as it existed, and it was a culture that Ashara hoped Kallig would someday overturn. Now free of the mask, the Sith Lord exhaled slowly into the cold, icy air, his breath visible in a small puffy cloud. Ashara recalled that Chiss were naturally adapted to colder climates. Indeed, they’d seen dozens of Imperial-aligned Chiss on Hoth during their time here. Far more than she’d ever seen before. She’d privately wondered why he hadn’t revealed himself as one of them. Shouldn’t he welcome the presence of his own species, after spending so long in the Empire? “Well, I don’t really know.” He finally said. “I have vague memories of… playing with my elder sister when I was very little.” His voice grew wistful for the briefest of moments, and Ashara, feeling charmed at the thought of Ozibaumnu as a small child, started to smile. “I suppose that must have been fun.” The feeling wouldn’t last. “When we were separated, however, well, that’s when the Sarnovas bought me.” She could hear the sting of bitterness and pain in his voice. “I had… duties and lessons. I suppose I may have enjoyed some of those more than others. I read extensively in their library when I could find time. And I found great relief with the biochemistry lab, but that was primarily to manage Lady Sarnova’s gardens. I’ve kept that up, as you’ve seen on the ship. I’m even proficient enough now to produce custom stim-packs, and I do find the challenge relaxing.” He paused. “But I don’t think I would call it ‘fun’, exactly. It’s just something engaging I do to keep myself mentally sharp.”   Ashara felt her heart start to break hearing about the life that Ozibaumnu had led. It was entirely unfair and put the difficulties of her own life into context. The young Sith Lord had turned away from her now, looking off into the distance at one of Hoth’s moons. Though there was still daylight out, night would be falling quite soon. Still, she was hesitant to interrupt him, enjoying this level of openness. There was time. “It couldn’t have been so different for you, could it?” the Sith Lord asked, turning his head towards her slightly. “The Jedi aren’t exactly known for providing their padawans with a spirited and carefree upbringing.” Ashara bit her lip at that. She had enjoyed her time as a Jedi, no matter how frustrated she’d grown when she felt like her Masters had been holding her back.    “Well, we were given some free time each day.” She finally said. “To learn or relax however we chose. A few of us watched holovids. Some of the others meditated or studied records on loan from the Jedi Archives. I liked sparring with the others, but none of them could really keep up with me so I usually went exploring outside the enclave where I might run into rakghouls or bogstalkers or some other local predator. I didn’t seek conflict with any of them, but I didn’t back down when they attacked, either.” Her lips twisted into a guilty smile. “None of them could stop me.” She knew her pride was a weakness, but she couldn’t quite help it. “I guess… I guess it was fun. For me, anyway.” Ozibaumnu chuckled. “I believe you. I’ve seen your power and skills first-hand.” He gave her a grin. “You’re a remarkably talented warrior.” Ashara blushed in embarrassment at the compliment, looking away self-consciously. “Uhm. Thank you.” She offered lamely. Why did it bother her so much, him seeing her flustered? Seeming to sense the sudden awkwardness, Ozibaumnu turned away again. Ashara liked that about him. He respected her boundaries and didn’t push when she was uncomfortable with something. He seemed to ‘get’ her in a way other people didn’t. “Anyway, after I… ‘left’ the Sarnovas’ service, I began my Sith training. I knew full well I was already well behind the other students, and that my Chiss heritage would make me a target for a great many of the acolytes and overseers. I had to work twice as hard and to watch my back. The others took enjoyment from tormenting others or in the failures of one of our fellows. That’s… not something that interested me. So I suppose I didn’t really get to do anything for its own satisfaction.” He paused and Ashara could have sworn she could feel his mind sort through its memories. “Since then, well, first I was performing missions for Zash and then since her… transformation, I’ve had to deal with Thanaton. My companions – prior to meeting you, that is – have been a Dashade shadow-killer whose hobbies include ruthlessly devouring Force-users, and Andronikus, who enjoys acts of piracy and games of pazaak. And I can only play so much pazaak. It’s a reasonably engaging pastime, but not something I enjoy in and of itself.” Ashara had been listening to him talk about his life when inspiration struck her. Noting that his back was still turned to her, she crouched down and put her plan in motion. “But I’m afraid I’m not very experienced with the concept of ‘fun’. Not in a long time, anyway.”     He seemed to ponder that reality for a long moment. “Oh, Ozibaumnu?” Ashara finally asked innocently. “Yes, Ashara?” he attentively turned back in her direction. The snowball struck Ozibaumnu square in the chest, crumbling on impact, but nevertheless leaving the Sith Lord covered in a good amount of snow as his startled eyes widened. Ashara covered her mouth with her hands to smother her laughter, eyes wide with mirth as the Chiss blinked and looked down at himself. “I’m so sorry!” she cried out, still desperately trying to stifle her giggles, and out of breath. “It’s just… you didn’t know what ‘fun’ was and you were just standing there… and I wanted to show you… I’m sorry!” She closed her eyes, trying to recompose herself with her Jedi training and utterly failing. Honestly, she was still a little shocked by her own conduct. She’d never in a million years have even thought about throwing a snowball at any of her old Jedi Masters. Plus, she genuinely liked and respected Ozibaumnu. He was intelligent and knowledgeable treated her with respect and kindness and offered her as much freedom as he could. He’d let her express herself and her abilities in ways she’d never been able to before, and as a result she felt she was becoming more proficient at lightsaber dueling with every encounter and was growing far more refined with the Force overall. And what was more he spoke with her, not at her. About the Force, the Empire, the Republic, the Jedi, the Sith… everything. She’d enjoyed it, more than she’d like to admit. It felt like no one was holding her back anymore. Instead, Ozibaumnu was helping her move forward. She really should be kinder towards him for all he’d done for her. More respectful. She lowered her hands from her face and sighed, trying to prepare a more sincere – and heartfelt – apology.     And that was the moment Ashara felt the snowball hitting her in the face. The Togruta sputtered as her hands brushed away the snow, looking up in disbelief at her assailant.   Ozibaumnu, the Lord Kallig, Heir to Tulak Hord and the Great Dragon of the Cult of the Screaming Blade, was grinning mischievously at her in an expression Ashara had never seen on his face before. His hand was extended outward, palm-side down. A few inches beneath it she saw a new snowball being formed in mid-air, just out of the reach of his hand, and immediately realized that while she’d been distracted trying to smother her laughter, he’d sculpted the first snowball and had flung it at her just by using the Force. Now he was plainly getting ready to send another her way. It was so playful it was almost charming. She was so startled and then entranced at the sight that she barely had time to duck her head from the second snowball as it flung itself towards her, letting out an ‘eek’ as it narrowly sailed over her montrals.   She glanced back at him. Ozibaumnu continued grinning and promptly reached out and started forming a third snowball. Ashara felt a surge of adrenaline as her natural competitive instincts took over. If he was going to throw snowballs at her, she’d defend herself in kind. She kicked out at the still-forming snowball, then reached down towards the snow to form her own. Ashara knew she couldn’t match Ozibaumnu’s telekinesis or other outstanding Force powers, but she didn’t think he was her equal in physical prowess. She found herself smirking as she hurled her half-made snowball back at him. The Sith Lord deftly dodged the projectile by deftly turning his body, in an elegant display of an economy of motion. The minimal amount of effort had been expended. Then with a widening grin and a gesture of his hand, the snow all around them started to rise from the ground. Realizing the danger, Ashara took off, calling upon her Force speed to embark on a dead run away from him almost faster than the eye could follow. She’d realized immediately what Lord Kallig – Ozibaumnu, she reminded herself – was trying to do. She’d just have to be fast enough to overcome it. As she pushed herself, the ground behind her rose in a veritable tidal wave of snow, getting larger and larger as it pursued. Just when it threatened to overtake her, she adjusted her trajectory, evading its path. The Jedi padawan had been the best combatant in her class on Taris. Maybe one of the best in all the Jedi order. She knew that as powerful as she was, she couldn’t face Ozibaumnu directly like this. But even as the wave of snow turned and pursued her, she had a plan. Ashara continued to alter her direction, ever so slightly. Ozibaumnu was incredibly powerful and intelligent, but if she timed it perfectly, it was just possible she could find the angle to take him unawares. She risked a glance over her shoulder at him and was rewarded with the sight of a still grinning Sith Lord, reaching out with his hands as he guided the ever-growing wave of snow. By now, it was nearly ten meters high and twice as wide. Despite the cold and the speed she was running at, Ashara could feel the perspiration start to build on her brow as she continued to run, still adjusting her angle. She had never run so fast in her life, but at the same time, it was so exciting. The shape centered on the Chiss Sith Lord was nearly complete; Ashara was like the free tip of a compass while the wave behind her was drawing the circle. Just before she reached her starting point – and perhaps seconds away from being overtaken by the wave of snow – she turned her route completely towards him at a hard ninety degree angle and leapt, launching herself towards him with the strength of the Force in a remarkable display of athleticism. He'd turned towards her, his red, pupil-less eyes wide as they caught hers. She’d have missed the reaction without her Force sensitivity focused so acutely on him. For a fraction of a second, she was certain that her plan had failed, and he would respond with a Force Wave, throwing her back and into a nearby snowbank. Or perhaps he might even lash out with his Force Lightning, which Ashara was certain she could not resist or defend against. Not at this point.  

But the expression on Ozibaumnu’s face was not a grin any longer. Nor was it anger or even shock. His eyes wide as he looked at her with the most serene expression. He looked at peace, with his lips slightly parted as he watched the oncoming Togruta soaring towards him. This observation registered in Ashara’s mind at the very instant she collided with him, sending both Force users tumbling to the ground in a heap. The Force wave of snow, no longer under the guidance of its master, simply collapsed just short of them, sending up a flurry of flakes. When the dust settled, Ashara, still breathing heavily, sat up and looked down at Ozibaumnu. He was laying on his back while Ashara was effectively straddling him. The wind had obviously been knocked out at him, but his eyes were still open, and looking up at her. Ashara swallowed, catching her breath as the feeling of awkwardness set in. “Uhm. You okay?” He blinked but didn’t turn away. Instead, he just nodded up at her, his eyes still wide and strangely focused.   Ashara smiled, relived. Then realizing she’d succeeded in her plan, the smile widened into a grin. “I got you.” she beamed in triumph. It had been the first time she’d bested him in any kind of training. Ozibaumnu’s didn’t react in the slightest, nor did he move free himself or to push her off of him. In fact, he was only barely breathing as he continued to gaze up at her. “You’re beautiful.” The words startled Ashara, as her jaw dropped and her cheeks flushed. He’d always been friendly to her, and they’d even bantered a handful of times. But he’d never said anything to her like that before. These past several weeks had been a whirlwind for the young Togruta. She’d seen her old masters slain, then had allied with the Sith who’d killed them. She’s left Taris behind, and since then had seen how the growing war between the Republic and the Empire was impacting worlds like Quesh and Hoth. She’d made friends – or at least acquaintances – wish a Sith Lord, a pirate, and a Dashade shadow-killer who was sometimes possessed by a Sith. She had learned new things about herself, experiencing things she’d never imagined and she suspected that her journey of self-discovery was only just beginning. That there were many more lessons ahead. And as she looked down at his handsome face and felt butterflies in her belly, she wondered if this were one of them.   The Chiss was still looking up at her, entranced, breathing heavily with his mouth agape. Ashara found herself starting to lean down towards his lips, getting closer and closer… It was at that point the silence was shattered by a voice that could be heard calling out in the distance. “My lord!” Alarmed, Ashara turned towards the sudden intrusion, her hands reflexively going for the lightsabers she kept clipped to her belt. Rapidly approaching the two from about fifty meters away was a squad of Imperial soldiers, clad in the Empire’s finest cold-weather gear. They were led by an eager man wearing sergeant stripes on his armor, his eyes wide in alarm. Suddenly very self-conscious of the fact that she was effectively straddling the Sith Lord to whom she owed her allegiance in the middle of a plain of snow, Ashara scrambled to her feet, hastily brushing the snow off her robes. She turned away as her cheeks burned in embarrassment, looking down at her feet. She could only imagine how ridiculous she looked at this moment.     The soldiers came to a stop a few meters away, the sergeant suddenly uncertain. Each of the squadmates appeared to be surveying the lay of the land.   “Forgive me, my lord. Dorn Base had a report of a sudden snowstorm… phenomena in this zone. We were concerned you’d been stranded.”   Ashara remembered that Captain Yudrass of the Chiss Expansionary Defense Force now commanded Dorn Base, largely on Lord Kallig’s recommendation. Perhaps these men were here at Yudrass’ request? Ozibaumnu had, by now, risen to his feet, his back to the soldiers. Ashara watched as the Sith Lord carefully refastened his skull-mask around his head before finally turning to face the sergeant. “Not at all, sergeant.” Lord Kallig said, his voice once again slightly distorted by the mask. Nevertheless, his tone was clear, firm and commanding. “My apprentice and I were simply enjoying an impromptu training session. But I am most grateful for your concern.” “Ah.” The sergeant blinked, glancing at Ashara with a nervous look in his eyes and then back to Kallig before swallowing. “Of course, my lord. My apologies. My men and I will return to our patrols.” Kallig gave a slight nod, effectively dismissing the soldiers. The sergeant gave the order and the men turned westward, back in the general direction of Dorn base. Finally alone again, Kallig turned to Ashara, his face once again unreadable beneath his mask.     “That was fun.” He said simply. Ashara bit her lip at that, and she realized only then that she’d been holding her breath in the presence of the soldiers who had ‘caught’ them. She exhaled, finally smiling softly at him. “Yes, it was.” She answered quietly. He gave a nod of his head and she found herself hoping he was smiling beneath the mask. “Well then. We should get back to it.” Without another word, the Sith Lord began trekking through the snow, once more headed towards the base. Ashara watched him for a second, her smile turning into a grin. Then she followed, eager to catch up. Author’s Notes: Some of my younger readers may not be entirely familiar with how people used to draw precise circles. Now you know.  The Ashara Zavros romance in the SI story can be troubling if not approached from the correct direction. One of my goals with this particular character to explore that romance while avoiding the pitfalls.   I love the idea of the Sith Inquisitor or the Sith Warrior going through most of the game interacting with Sith and Imperials who are unaware you are not human or Pureblood. Its like they can pull the mask off at any time and say “What did you say about Mirialans again?” Ozi is not a big fan of the Chiss Ascendancy. They sent his family into exile and to the Empire, and then did nothing after his mother was killed and he and his sister were enslaved. So he’s not a creature of sentiment with respect to his own species. But he was more accommodating with Yudrass, an NPC on Hoth who I found memorable. Honestly, he was one of the few Imperials he saw on Hoth who seemed worth his time. This might be the beginning of a reconciliation. Frankly, its too soon to say. Finally – I was originally going to name this piece ‘Snowballs’ but opted to change it to avoid any entendre issues. (Some of y’all have dirty minds.) Tagging people who liked my WIP teasers - @actualanxiousswampwitch , @sleepswithvillains​ , @elaphaemourra​ , @starstrucknerdbatkid​ , @lyrishadow​ , @sarpndodoesrp , @introversiontherapy , @faith71504 , @cinlat , @a-master-procrastinator , @a-muirehen , @imperialparagons , @blueburds and @greyias ! Thank you all for the encouragement! Also for @starknstarwars - who a VERY long time ago did some Winter prompts, the result of which being this WIP i had almost abandoned for over a year. The lesson here is, save your work. You can always come back to it later. Also - @swtorshipping​ - For your approval. Comments are always welcome!

We Have A Jedi [20] | Peter Parker x Male Reader

Fandom: Star Wars, Marvel

Pairing: Peter Parker x Male Reader, Tony Stark x Son Reader

Summary: (M/N) and Peter are settling into their new relationship with ease. However the Stark boy can feel whatever he’s been worried about is getting closer.

Previous | Next

Read from the beginning

…

“So yeah...He’s in prison now and the bank is safe.”

(M/N) listened as Peter finished up telling him about his latest crime fighting endeavor. The two were in Tony’s lab, Peter was upgrading his suit while (M/N) tinkered away at T3. Bwoop. “T3 says good job,he thinks you'd make a great jedi.” The droid did a little happy dance. “Hey watch it! I still have a wrench in you.” The droid stopped at that. Peter let out a laugh at the interaction. “Hey be nice to him! Thank you T3, I think I’d make a good jedi too.”

Peter went back to his suit but his eyes caught something. “Hey what’s this?” He walked over to the container and began looking through it. “Oh, that’s just a project I’ll start someday.” Peter continued to look through it. “It’s all just...scrap? Is this part of you dad’s old suit? And are these...captain america’s leather straps? What exactly are you planning to make?” Peter looked back over to his boyfriend who finished up his work on the droid. “It’s a surprise...and going to be for emergencies only. I still don’t have all the parts anyways.”

“What else are you missing?” (M/N) only put a finger to his mouth. “It’s a surprise.” Before Peter could say anything else Tony walked in. “There’s my favorite boys, dinner’s ready. You staying Peter?” Peter nodded at the older Stark man and Tony caught sight of the box. “Ah! I see you’ve found the mystery box of crap. I’m not exactly sure what he’s planning to do with that but it has scraps of all the avengers in there.” (M/N) stood up from T3 and walked over grabbing the box. “Yes, and it’s important so please keep your hands off.” He playfully glared at them before putting the box away. “Alright. Dinner?”

…

The sound of blaster fire returned to him. For a while it had seemed like the dreams, the visions, had left him. But tonight proved otherwise. Once again the colors purple and gold flashed. “Keep fighting!” The fighting seemed even more chaotic than it had been. The sounds of explosions and smell of fire filled his senses, it was like he was back in the middle of the war.

The landscape around him changed from the darkness of a void to a cityscape. It was the same domed city from all the other times, at first it was everything was normal and then with a flash it was on fire. “You’re too late.” (M/N) recognized that voice, it was one he hadn’t heard in a long time. He turned to where the voice was and looked the Sith in his red eyes. Kren. “There is only one victory here...and it doesn’t belong to either of us.”

With another explosion the sith was gone. “What’s going on?” (M/N) said aloud. The dreams had never gone like this before, never showing Kren, but he wasn’t the only one it would show. “(M/N)?” He turned to the familiar face and saw Peter. The boy stood there looking confused as the battle raged on behind him. Another voice entered his mind, the one from before. “You should have gone for the head.” There was a bright light and then (M/N) watched as Peter seemed to dissolve. “(M/N)-” He tried to run after the boy but couldn’t reach him before he was completely gone. That’s when he noticed how the fighting had once more gone quiet and all around him ashes littered the landscape.

He felt a presence in front of him. Looking up he saw him. Revan.

“It has begun.”

…

(M/N) woke up with a gasp. He took in a deep breath before pulling on some pajamas. “Mr.(M/N). Are you alright? I monitored your vitals rising, are you distressed?” (M/N) stepped out of his bed and walked over to T3. “Yes, but I’m alright. Friday don’t record anything in this room until I say so alright? I have something private to do.” The A.I did as he requested and he woke up T3. Bwoop? “T3, hey buddy. I need you to help me record a message.

…

Thanks to the dreams (M/N) wasn’t able to go back to sleep and now he was barely staying awake in class. He felt his eyes beginning to close on him. “I’m sorry Mr.Rogers am I not interesting to you?” (M/N) didn’t respond. “Mr.Rogers!” That got his attention and he saw the entire class looking at him. For a moment he forgot he was under Steve’s name here. “Sorry sir, didn’t get any sleep last night...but I agree with you being boring.” The class laughed but the teacher didn’t seem pleased. “Detention after school.” (M/N) shrugged but put his head back down. With what happened last night and the things he’s faced, detention didn’t mean anything to him.

Finally the end of the day came and (M/N) quickly left his classroom. Normally he would stop and wait for Peter and Ned, but he wasn’t feeling it today. He’d apologize to them later. He was moving down the hallway, pushing past people when he felt their presence. “(M/N)! Hey, what’s up? You normally always wait for us.” Ned asked, Peter on the other hand looked worried. “(M/N)? Babe you okay?” (M/N) just kept looking ahead as he moved. “No I’m not.” Then Ned spoke up again. “If it’s about detention don’t sweat it! Peter and I can wait for you if you-”

“It’s not that Ned. I just...don’t feel good.”

He turned the corner to exit the building but Principal Morita stood in his way. “Mr.Rogers. I’ve heard some things from some teachers and heard you had detention. My office.” (M/N) let out a frustrated groan before waving his hand and walking past the principal. “You don’t need to talk to me. I’m free to go and don’t have to go to detention.” The principal fell into a daze. “I don’t need to talk to you. You don’t need to go to detention.” Ned was in shock of what he just saw but besides him Peter was worried about what was making his boyfriend tick. 

The two boys followed him out of the school. “Is someone going to tell me what all that was!? It was like something out of Star Wars!” Ned shouted, (M/N) didn’t stop walking and Peter noticed how he was walking in the opposite direction of Where happy was waiting and knew then something must have been really wrong. “Sorry Ned, I gotta follow him.” Ned only nodded, “Yeah! Just...text me!”

Peter went to follow (M/N), but had lost where his boyfriend had walked off too. “Aw man, where are you?”

(M/N) wasn’t sure where he was going. He wasn’t ready to go home, not ready to see his father, he just wanted to think. He didn’t keep track of the time so who knows how long he actually walked but he found himself in a part of new york where construction work was going on for new buildings. No one was around so it must have been an off day for them. Needing to sit down, he placed his bag on the ground and sat next to it.

He watched as storm clouds gathered in the sky. The wind picked up and a chill creeped into his skin. He wasn’t sure what to do, he knew the visions were telling him something but he wasn’t sure what. Whatever it was telling him...it meant lots of people were going to die, Peter included. He could sense that Peter was getting closer to him and he wasn’t sure what he was going to say to him. The sound of footsteps were getting closer and he couldn’t tell if it was Peter or maybe Tony coming to talk. 

“You make this too easy.” It was neither of them. Feeling the hair on the back of his neck standing up, (M/N) quickly rolled out of the way of a lightning shock. Landing into a fighting position he got a good look at the sith who attacked him. The familiar wicked face of the red twi'lek greeted him. “Talon.”

“In the flesh.” She lunged at him and he dodged out of her lightsabers slashes. He reached for his own, only to realize he no longer had them. “Karabast.” He landed and continued to dodge her slashes. “Oh...what’s wrong? Lose your lightsabers?”

Seeing a weak spot on a pillar above them, (M/N) used the force to bring the next level down on the sith. He then took this chance to gain the advantage and moved into a hiding spot. It was quiet and soon the hum of Talon’s lightsabers were the only noise being made. Soon the sound and smell of rain poured into the construction sight. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”

Focusing through the force, he pulled another pillar down distracting Talon. He moved out of his hiding spot to another. He had to figure out how he’d fight back. Thanks to his quick movements and loose bars and rocks, (M/N)’s clothes had been torn up pretty good. A quick slash and (M/N) let out a yell as he felt the tip of her saber just skim his arm.

Without much thought, (M/N) used the force to launch himself into the air. He grabbed onto the next floor’s supports and began to climb the building. He could hear Talon close behind, he heard a swirling sound and ducked his head intime as one of her sabers went flying past him and returned to her. He continued to make his way up the construction site, the rain making his footing and grasp slicker.

Of course Talon had made her way to the level he was on as well. “Go on, keep running. I love the chase.” (M/N) was breathing hard, the rain coming down harder now, drenching him. “Where’s your master? Too afraid to face me himself?”

“Oh my master has important things to do. More important than YOU.”

“Aw so that’s why he sent you to deal with me.”

That definitely got her angry. Just as she was about to lunge again, her foot was webbed to the support beam. Spiderman went flying by, landing on another beam. “You know, I KNOW red sabers mean bad guys so I suggest you surrender.” (M/N) felt his heartbeat quicken, normally he would be happy to see Peter but this wasn’t a good thing. Talon let out a snarl before throwing a detached beam at Peter with the force.

Luckily Peter had got out of the way just in time by webbing out of there. “Woah! Close on-” He swung head on into a shock of Talon’s force lightning. “Peter!” He watched as the boy fell down a story but landed...hopefully okay. The sith let out a wicked laugh and cut herself out of the webbing, “Now...back to you!” She swung her blades at (M/N), but before they made impact with his body, he had grabbed her hands.

He pulled her hands down to his level, letting the blades illuminate his face. It was then that Talon quickly lost her smirk as she saw (M/N) with a deep frown himself. She also noticed something else, his eyes were just a bit more yellow then before. (M/N) was tightening his grip on her hands and it wasn’t long before she called out in pain dropping one of her lightsabers.

Using the force he pushed her back, grabbing hold of her dropped saber he let the red illuminate his face again. He couldn’t help it anymore, seeing what she did to Peter, he let all of his anger out. With a yell he brought up the red blade and ran at the sith letting it hit her other one. Red blad clashed with red blade, (M/N) was letting his anger get the best of him and it was showing with how he was gaining the advantage against Talon.

He had pushed her to the end of a support beam, with a quick slash to the beam Talon went falling down. (M/N) quickly cut a rope and went swinging down after her. Talon being the acrobatic that she was, managed to land on her feet. However before she was able to get back into a fighting stance, (M/N) swooped down on her. Brining the red blade down, he slashed her right in half.

It got quiet again after that, only the hum of the lightsaber, the rain and (M/N)’s heavy breathing. “W-what have I done?” He turned off the lightsaber and caught his breath. “Peter.” Remembering his boyfriend he quickly ran to him. Getting down to his boyfriend he saw he was breathing. He pulled off Peter’s mask quickly to properly look at him. “Ugh...What happened? I feel like that time I put a paperclip in the outlet.” (M/N) couldn’t help but laugh at that, he was just relieved to see his boyfriend okay. “We are SO talking about that later. I’m just glad you’re okay.” Peter smiled. “Me too...you. I’m glad you’re okay too. Where'd the red lady go?”

“Dead.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

(M/N) called Happy to come pick them up and to also get the remains of Talon out of the construction site. Happy was...frantic to say the least, first because (M/N) didn’t show up after school and second both boys looked torn up. “What happened?!” (M/N) only shook his head and carried Peter to the car. “Not now, just...get us back to the compound please.” Happy, while still shocked, did what he said and drove them both back. In the back seat, (M/N) held onto Peter like if he let go he’d lose him...which he very possibly could.

Arriving back at the compound Tony was already waiting for them. (M/N) helped Peter out of the car and started taking him to the med bay. “Oh god, What happened?! Are you okay.” He grabbed Peter’s other side and helped carry him in. “I’m fine, Peter I think will be okay, I just want to get him checked out.” Tony looked worried at him. “And you too, you look like you’ve been put through the shredder.” 

Not much was said after that, both boys were taken to medical and looked over. Luckily it seemed like both of them had only received minor cuts and bruises. (M/N) was sitting up in the bed he had been placed in, Tony sitting in a chair next to him. “She was a sith.” At that Tony lifted his head at that. “She's dead. I killed her.” (M/N)’s voice was quiet. “I couldn’t let her come after any of you...and she was trying to kill Peter. So I killed her first.” Tony quickly got up from the chair and hugged his son. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. You did what you had to do.” (M/N) didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so he simply hugged his father back.

A little while later, he entered the other medical room where Peter was. “Hey.” Peter was laying in the bed but quickly jumped up upon seeing him. “(M/N)! You’re okay!” He pulled him into a hug and (M/N) couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course, you saw me before this. Don’t you remember?” Peter blushed. “Yeah...but I was just worried.” He ran his hands through Peter’s hair. “It’s alright. I’m okay, you’re okay...we’re okay.”

…

That night Peter had stayed at the compound, the doctors and Tony wanted him to stay over to be watched over. They wanted the same for (M/N) but he refused any help saying he was fine. Night had fallen and everyone had gone to sleep, making sure the coast was clear (M/N) entered the lab. Surprisingly, his dad actually wasn’t up for once. Not wanting to risk getting caught, he made his way over to his work bench and pulled out the box from earlier. With the box in tow he made sure to quickly return to his room.

Setting the box on the ground he pulled out Talon’s lightsabers and sat on the ground with them. He placed her lightsaber on the ground and began focusing on the crystal’s within them. He lost himself in his thoughts as her lightsabers loosened up and tore apart until only the Kyber crystals remained. He could hear them calling out to him like his lightsabers before had...but these were different. These were muted, like they were corrupted.

He gripped the crystals, he could feel the power that radiated from them. Closing his eyes, he let the images come to him. At first there was nothing and then he felt cold and images of Kren, Talon and the sith all flashed at him. The scene of the jedi council wanting to erase his mind came to him and he felt...he felt angry. He was quickly getting frustrated and knew his anger was building rather quickly. Then he realized, it was the crystals. The crystals had so much anger and hate in them it was pouring into him.

The images continued to flash at him and he tried his best to hold on. The anger was growing too strong and it was getting harder to focus. As his vision clouded, in the darkness there was a small piece of light. Using all his strength he focused as hard as he could on that small piece of light and finally a new image appeared. Peter. Then like a rolling storm more and more images came flooding into him. The avengers, his mother, Sheyo, Tony. Everything that kept him in the light. Those feelings of anger fell away and all that remained was hope, happiness and love. Opening his eyes, he looked down in his hands and saw that the kyber crystals had changed. They were no longer the angry and corrupted red that the Sith always had, however they were also not the same color he had before in his old lightsabers. They were white.  Placing the crystals on the ground, he moved over the box of components and began meditating. After the encounter with Talon, he knew he couldn’t go defenseless anymore he needed new lightsabers. He focused on his friends, his family, the people he needed to protect.

He continued thinking about all of them, as he did the pieces from the box began floating along with the crystals. The sound of clicking and spinning was heard but (M/N) continued to meditate. The crystals became encased by the new lightsaber hilts being made. When (M/N) opened his eyes he saw two new lightsabers, all made from parts of the avengers suits and gear. Most noticeable was his dad’s old armor fragments as the outer shell of them. Grabbing hold of the sabers he activated them and bright white blades shot out.

“I’ll be ready for whatever’s coming.”

…

Peter woke up and walked to (M/N)’s room. Before he even knocked on the door Friday spoke to him. “Mr.(M/N) is in the training room Peter.” Peter stopped and wondered what he was doing there. “Thanks Fri.” With that he walked to the training room.

Seeing the simulator was active, Peter entered the observation room and lost his breath as he caught sight of (M/N). His boyfriend was in the simulation with two new white lightsabers fighting the computer generated enemies. “I’m not sure if this is because of yesterday or if there’s something he isn’t telling us.” Peter looked over and saw Tony sitting in a chair watching the boy fight. “What do you mean?” “It’s been two years and he hasn’t had his sabers and now...now he has new ones. I”m not sure if it’s because of that sith you fought yesterday and he just wants a defense...or if he’s planning on leaving again.”

Peter felt his heat drop a bit. He wasn’t wanting (M/N) to leave, but he also knew his boyfriend wanted to help people and would eventually return to the war he had told him about. The simulator shut off and (M/N) deactivated his sabers. Grabbing a towel he wiped the sweat off his head before leaving the simulator, Peter went to speak to him. “(M/N)! Hey, I saw you in the simulator. You looked good. When did you get new lightsabers?”

(M/N) smiled as he saw Peter. “Hey. Glad you enjoyed the show.” He lifted up one of his lightsabers. “I made them last night. I figured I needed some extra protection in case more Sith come our way.”

“That makes sense.” (M/N) saw Peter’s hesitation. “Want to hold it?” At that Peter’s eyes widened and he gave a genuine smile. “Wait...really? Yes! I-I mean I’d love to.” (M/N) only shook his head and handed Peter the saber. “Wow, it’s heavier than I thought it would be.” “Well yeah, it’s still a weapon.” He watched as Peter looked it over, running his hand over the casing. “I made it from all the components in that box you were curious about. See my dad’s armor there. The grip is made from Steve’s old leather straps. There’s more too, however I didn’t have anything to add for you sadly. You didn’t have any components or anything.” Peter smiled. “I’m going to fix that.”

“Isn’t that sweet.” Both boys turned to the new voice and (M/N) quickly recognized the Mandalorian. “I’m guessing your boyfriend?”

(M/N) didn’t reach for his lightsabers, he wasn’t a threat. “Ven. A pleasure to see you again...what are you doing here?” The familiar mandalorian had two other Mandalorians beside him.

Ven frowned. “I need your help.”

...

Ven and the other two mandalorians had returned to their ship leaving (M/N) with his father and Peter. There was some tension in the air but they all knew what had to happen. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I need to do this, Ven helped me and I need to help him. Especially if Kren is involved. I need to put an end to him once and for all.”

Tony only nodded and pulled him into a hug. “I get it. I don’t like it, but I get it. I kind of...figured something like this was coming since you made those new laser swords this morning.” He pulled back and smiled at him. “Just come back in one piece okay?” (M/N) nodded before looking at Peter. Peter was smiling and (M/N) noticed that he was holding something behind his back. “So...you know how you made your lightsabers out of the gear? Well I wanted to be a part of it...just different.” He pulled out his hands and handed him a sash...it looked quickly made with a simple needle and thread. “I made it out of my old spiderman suit. I don’t really wear it anymore and figured you could wear it and think of me.” (M/N) quickly pulled Peter in a hug. “I love it.” Pulling back he took the sash and put it on. “What do you think?” Peter smiled and held up a thumb. “Looks good.” Then it got quiet and before Peter could say anything (M/N) pulled him into a kiss. “I’ll be back. Don’t worry.”

“Just come back soon.” Then with that (M/N) gave one last look to both him and his dad before moving towards Ven’s ship. Peter and Tony watched as he left. “He’ll come back to us...right?” Peter asked. “He always has.” Tony said those words, but something felt off about them. As for (M/N), he couldn’t help the feeling he got that it would be the last time he saw them for a long time.

…

Are you ready fam? The Siege of Mandalore begins! Now’s the time when everything changes. So buckle up and get ready.

Volition | Darth Maul

warnings: angst, minor abuse from previous master, minor drug mention, a small tidbit of arousal | Padawan is of age !

author notes: so today turned into a really bad day and so I took my anger out on writing I guess. Hope ya’ll enjoy it! We all need a maul to rescue us from some shit. This is my first time writing for maul so please be nice 🥺 I’m still second-guessing myself on posting this...😅

“(Y/n) go back to your quarters. I’m done dealing with your subpar technique.” your master ordered, whipping your lightsaber toward you.

Falling to your knees, lips quivering you didn’t even dare to look at your master. “I’m sorry master...please. Please forgive me. One more chance?” you begged.

“Absolutely not! You don’t even deserve the rank as my padawan (y/n), and yet here you are before me. Look how pathetic you are, is this how you’ll be on the battlefield when you lose? Get out of my sight.”

Burning hot with shame as you failed his assessment on formation, though it was something you studied to no end, you still managed to screw it up. Tears streamed down your face as you sat in the dirt, his words cutting into you like a vibroblade. You couldn’t fathom how out of all the Jedi in the temple you ended up with Master Feles. As you were growing up, you had hoped to begin your training with Master Plo Koon, Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi, or even Master Yoda. At least they were kind to you, but it never worked like that no. Feles sensed much strength within you and thus convinced the council to let him train you. But why? He acted as he cared for you but as soon as you slipped up, harsh words were thrown at you and sometimes even his fists. Master Feles was so full of rage, hate, his aura throwing off uncertain vibes within your instincts.

Alas, there wasn’t anything you could do, you’ve been his padawan for many years and put up with his barbarous treatment. It’s not like the other Jedi masters would believe it though, Feles had them wrapped around his finger. The only time they ended up being skeptical of his teachings was when he ended up losing a battle against the separatist droids, blaming it on you for slowing him down. The result was a quick strike from his lightsaber against your back when you turned to check on one of your downed troopers.

Taking a deep breath, you grab your lightsaber that was thrown into the dirt and wipe it off with your robes. Clipping it to your belt, you scan the area quickly before heading toward the corridor leading to the back entrance of the Jedi temple. It would be hard to dodge any Knights or Masters walking the hallways but it was worth it. You needed to leave and clear your mind, to pretend you weren’t even a padawan for just a night. As you approach a long staircase, two knights head in your direction walking in unison. Swiftly you tuck yourself behind a statue attempting to silence your mind so your presence isn’t detected.

Several excruciating moments later, they pass too absorbed in their own discussion about who was to become a Master before the other. Hesitantly you make you way down the stairs scanning the lower level to see if anyone was lingering. It was well past curfew so luckily you didn’t run into anyone else on your journey to the back entrance. Stepping foot outside of the temple without having to carry out a mission or an errand felt so liberating. Heading down the vast staircase that led toward the city of Coruscant, you couldn’t help but launch into a sprint. The freedom lured you out encouraging you to detach from the order you once followed so closely. Pulling your hood over your head to mask your identity somewhat, you saunter the lively streets of Galactic City. No one even bothers to pay you any mind which eased the anxiety that whirled around in your gut.

The only unfortunate part about this planet was there weren’t many places to just sit down and rest. Everyone was always in such a hurry that sitting down to take in the sights around never came to mind to these citizens. Nearing a dark alley, you round the corner finding it empty, where it was less likely for anyone to want to bother you. Sitting on the duracrete sent a shiver up your spine, it was nothing like the plush pillows you knelt on in the temple but it would have to do. Head against the building made of durasteel, you glance up barely able to make out the stars as the lights of Coruscant hid them.

Out of the corner of your eye, were two gentlemen also hooded part taking in some dubious acts. At first, they hadn’t realized you, though once they did they strutted over, grins flustered on their face.

“What’s a pretty face doing out here all by her lonesome?” the one snickered.

“Seems like she needs some protecting, whaddya think Ander?” the second snickered.

“Well, seems like you just witnessed something you weren’t supposed to. Only way out of it is either pay up and buy some death sticks off me, or you come with us. I much rather the second option. We’re both a good amount of fun.” Ander elbowed his friend playfully, eyes narrowing at you as they both erupted into a fit of laughter.

“I didn’t see anything...I-I promise. Please just leave me alone.” you pleaded. Of course, you didn’t want to make a scene and it was against the code to use your power in any type of personal gain. As much as you wanted to detach from the ways of the Jedi you simply couldn’t abandon the belief system that taught you so much.

“See, we can’t take your word for it sweetheart, so you’re going to have to come with us.” the second unnamed counterpart was a Trandoshan, a species you’re familiar with for being quite aggressive.

The Trandoshan had his digits gripped onto your jaw, staring into your eyes as Ander prattled on probably due to the effects of the death sticks.

“Get your kriffing hands off me!” rage engulfed you, causing you to use the force against the two.

Shocked by the sudden revelation, the men couldn’t scurry out fast enough, fearing for their lives. A sigh of relief escaped your lips only to be sucked back in at the sound of another voice.

“It seems like you’re very strong with the force hmm?” his voice was honeyed, though it sent a shudder down your back at the deep sound.

“I guess..not really though,” you mumbled. “I shouldn’t have done what I just did.” guilt beginning to consume you as you just let anger take over.

“And why do you say that? Because you used your gift simply to protect yourself?”

“It’s not the Jedi way…” trailing off you kneel down before the stranger, assuming he was a Master as it was hard to make out his robes due to the lighting but he spoke in a way that suggested so. “You know that…”

A deep chuckle was released, “I am no Jedi. I was trained in the ways of the force yes, but was never a Jedi.”

The rush of fear soon rested inside you as you realized before you was a sith. Was it the one the Jedi have been looking for? The sith lord? “You’re a sith! You’re the one everyone has been looking for!” you hissed.

Walking closer, the faint light showed bits of his face which was red intertwined with black ink, his eyes a honey-like color that was surrounded by a crimson ring. “My darling, you may think I am evil. I am not. I am efficient. I was apprentice to the most powerful being in the galaxy once. I was destined to become so much more. But I was robbed of that destiny by the Jedi, by Obi-Wan Kenobi.” Moving even closer to you, he too knelt down in front of you, inches away from your face eyes locked. “My name is Maul. I no longer have any attachment to the sith. I’m purely on my own.”

Blinking, you try to figure out how Master Kenobi played in this though that wasn’t something that concerned you too much. What did was the fact this stranger and force wielder is mere inches away from your face, intrigued with you. “So what do you want with me…? It’s clear you want something.” you faltered.

“Passing by, I heard your thoughts. The white noise they emitted that distracted me and lured me in out of pure curiosity. Then,” he paused, licking his lips “Then I saw the power you possess deep inside of you. A power only I am able to help you achieve. But I also feel your strong hatred toward something. Perhaps..someone?” a smirk emerged as he noticed you beginning to go wide-eyed

Putting your head down, you realized you needed to silence your thoughts and feelings as they were clearly becoming very loud for any force user to sense them. Suddenly your jaw was grabbed but the touch was oh so tender, so light as he brought your eyes back to his. As horrifying as this experience was, there was something about him that made you question his true intentions. His eyes seemed to be telling the truth even if his words seemed off, but you can see the pain within them.  

At the sight of you, his hearts began to thud, something about you was driving this zabrak insane. Could it be the power? The drive? Or was it something else so unfamiliar to the zabrak that made him almost feral with just the scent of you lingering in his nostrils. Callused fingertips still touching your soft skin, he closed his eyes trying to read you even further and to give you a chance to consider his words.

“I may have some doubts, but that doesn’t mean I want to leave nor join someone like you!” fear creeping into your voice. As much as you hated your master, how could you leave the only home you know, especially with Maul? A stranger you have no knowledge of, except that Master Kenobi had dealt with him at one point.

Pulling away, he turned his head and rose to his feet. “Very well. I won’t force you to make this decision. If you cannot see your true potential and want to continue enduring the mistreatment from your Master, so be it.” his once smooth voice, now harsh, full of rage.

Him knowing what your master has done was enough to make you fall back in surprise. The sincerity in his voice was convincing, but ultimately there wasn’t much to lose. At this point, it felt great to be away from the temple, and the thought of never seeing Feles again was a bonus. Quickly you leap to your feet, reaching out to grab his forearm. Even though you couldn’t see it a grin enveloped his features. Turning around, this time he leaned in closer, forehead brushing against yours, eyes searching yours.

“I-I’ll take your offer. Let me join you..and get me far away from here as possible. Help me discover my inner power you see.” you urged desperately. You were almost breathless with how close he was, but not out of fear this time, no it was something else. Something about him was drawing you in, the way he touched you, the way he looked into your eyes, it all just sent a new sensation into your depths. Even if your body never experienced this before it wanted more, it craved it, judging by Maul’s facial expressions he sensed it too, and he liked it.

“Good…” he trailed off, his grin still present on his face. “I will help you. Help you discover it all and so much more. You will never regret this encounter and joining me by my side. I promise you that.” His pupils were dilated and his breathing was ragged. A gentle hand moving a stray hair off your face, gaze still fixated like a predator stalking its prey.

Whether or not this was a good idea didn’t matter anymore. The Jedi didn’t matter anymore, nor did your attachment to the code itself, what you wanted now was him. The infatuation was too strong to ignore and swallowed you whole, making you it’s victim though you weren’t the only one falling for its trap.

Supreme Emperor Obi-Wan Kenobi (part 7)

"Help you how?" Master Unduli no longer sounded suspicious. Instead her voice was bland and her face was serene. She was still projecting an aura of calm even with her stance unchanged and the lightsaber held firmly in her hands. Obi-Wan wondered if he could convince her to help. She had been through an ordeal and might value freedom over further duty.

Appo and Cody were standing near the bodies on the ground. Appo had stopped his almost single minded trek towards Vader and was looking at him. Appo was still upset though no longer crying. His jaw was clenched and his hands were in fists. Cody had turned towards Obi-Wan when he had first started speaking. His right hand was gripping Appo's neck. He looked . Bail just looked quizzical.

All of them were waiting on a response to the question. Obiwan knew he had to convince them and though it might have been best to take a few seconds to gather his thoughts and come up with the universe's most persuasive argument he couldn't wait. He had no time,

"We need to begin by dechipping every clone trooper. There are approximately 35000 troopers permanently stationed on Coruscant plus 6000 from Vader's 2 battalions. And, one million troopers that can be called to the planet within the hour. There are 7823 medidroids that can begin to immediately perform the surgery. In less than one day we can free almost half the clones serving the empire." He knew his numbers were a little off as he had not been giving the research his full attention while he was waiting on the outcome from the surgeries.

Obi-Wan started pacing. He focused on Cody. "Commander, we can do the surgeries in the senate halls. Force knows this building is big enough. We will have to start slow, so that we can deal with any emotional fall out when the troopers remember what they were forced to do when they were MINDCONTROLLED."

Obi-Wan had to pause to take a deep breath and try to calm down. He turned to Commander Appo, "We can begin with the troopers standing out in the middle chamber. We need to set up a command structure with a clear message -'You were not at fault.' And, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but I will need as many people helping as possible. I wouldn't even think of asking otherwise, and, of course, they are free to say no, everyone is free to say no, but we need the skills of the troopers. We need to ask them if they will stay and work with us to undo all of the Sith's plans."

He couldn't tell what the commanders were thinking. Obi-Wan's heart was racing. He felt so mercenary. His mind was going a mile a minute. He knew he was panicking and he needed to stop. This was too important. Everyone in the room had to stay and help. The commanders would have to convince the other troopers to help. Bail would have to convince other senators, and rebels. He moved to where Bail was standing.

"Bail surely you must have some ideas of how we can undo all of the laws that allowed Sidious to take over, remove the corruption from the senate, judiciary system, and the military, free captured Jedi, remove all unjust laws, and grant autonomy to all empire slaves. You must have friends with ideas. We can bring the republic back. We can make the republic better."

"Would you really give up power?" Bail asked. He sounded sceptical.

"Of course I would! I do not want to rule. No Jedi wanted to take over the senate. That was one of Sidious' lies. Had I not needed the troopers to stop trying to kill me, I never would have taken over for Palpatine."

Obi-Wan was so scared that he wouldn't get through to them, to any one. He couldn't stop pacing. He felt like one of those toys the way his head kept turning, trying to look in their eyes. He felt like he was vibrating. "We have to start. I don't know how many failsafe's and boobytraps Sidious might have, or how we can organize to pull this off. We have to find other people we can trust. But we have a chance now! We can do it. I know we can. We have to trust in the force."

He did not go to Master Unduli. She was still radiating calm. He wanted to sink into it. His shields felt like they were in tatters. He'd raised them. He'd meant to raise them but sometime in the last couple of minutes they'd cracked. He hadn't been this open since the destruction of the Jedi and the fight with An..Vader. What was she getting from him?

Master Unduli lowered her arm and turned off the lightsaber. She did not release it but she did stand up straight. Her face was no longer serene. There was more warmth on her features.

"That will be... a lot of work." She noted.

"Yes," Obi-Wan replied. "And we only have about a week."

"Why?" Bail's confusion was understandable.

"I know I can keep Vader asleep for at least a week as I have done it before when, when, Anakin was a padawan and injured on a mission. I put him in a healing trance and helped him sleep. I do not know..I cannot imagine...We have to plan for the possibility that that may be as long as he can stay asleep. So, we have a week to fix everything."

"Trust in the force, Master Kenobi. We can figure it out." Master Unduli sounded confident.

"I can drum up help from some of the senators. There are a lot of laws that I've wanted to strike from the record for a while now. But," here Bail paused for a second thinking, "we cannot remove all of the emperor's powers from you, Obi-Wan. Not until after you've pushed through all our reforms. It will be too easy for Palpatine's supporters to vote against the best interest of the Republic. Sad to say but one person must continue to hold the ultimate paower until we fix this mess."

"Well if it has to be anybody, I'm glad that it's you." That declaration of faith from Commander Cody stole Obi-Wan's ability to talk. He felt like he had been struck dumb.

"We should begin removing the chips from the others. If we are ever going to be free we have to know what we should be fighting for. And, we have to know who to trust." Commander Appo turned again to look at Vader.

"Do not worry Commander Appo. We are going to dismantle this corrupt system and replace it with something better. This time no one will be able to stop us." Master Unduli sounded so sure.

"Does this mean that you are going to help me? All of you?" Obi-Wan clarified. There was no room for mistakes or misapprehensions.

They all nodded.

"I never thought we would ever have a chance at a bloodless coup. We would all be fools not to take what the force has given us." Bail said. "We need to strategize, come up with a plan of action and a timeline to complete it in. You say you can only hold Vader under for an hour. Maybe we can see if we can find something else, some drug that may work as well. Until then, we have a hard time limit. Luckily I am in a room with two of the best generals of the republic and two of the best commanders. We can do this!"

It was obvious why Bail Organa was a senator who could navigate the world of empire politics and being a rebel. He knew how and when to rally others.

Nothing had been resolved but Obi-Wan still breathed easier. They were going to do this.

Observations while watching The Empire Strikes Back on this, its 40th anniversary:

1. Anakin’s continual terrible choices are astounding, and I don’t understand any of them, other than to say that he is in such deep denial that he can’t fucking figure out that Sheev lied about Padme’s death from the fact that Luke exists at all.

2. Yoda. Has. Fucking. Lost. His. Mind. That entire conversation with Luke and Ben in his little hut is cracked. He’s spent 20 years, alone, in hiding after losing the war, the Republic and the Order and it warped him. 

3. Obi-Wan continues to give himself way more status than he had by claiming that Yoda was his Master. Also, a liar: “Was I any different when you trained me?” Yes. Yes you were, dummy.

4. So many dead Imperial officers. So, so many.

5. R2 spends what is likely his entire stay on Dagobah trying to tell Luke that he KNOWS this bitch Yoda. 

6. “Try not. Do or do not. There is no try.” But “Only a Sith deals in Absolutes.” SO WHICH IS IT?! 

7. Luke throws in the towel on bringing the ship back up. Anakin woulda stood there until he either brought that ship up or fucking died trying, and those are the fundamental differences between their characters. 

8. Shut up, Anakin.

9. Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher are both disgustingly pretty in this movie. 

10. Yoda continues to be vague and not very helpful about Skywalkers and Force visions. 

11. I ship Han with Leia, Luke and Lando in this movie. He has chemistry with all of them in this movie that reads like he has slept with each of them at some point, and I’m kinda here for it.

12. “I don’t want to lose you to the Emperor the way I lost Vader.” THIS IS A LOADED SENTENCE. I feel bad for Obi-Wan, but also, Obi-Wan is the one who left Anakin on Mustafar and decided not to take him with him, or kill him outright. 

13. “No. There is another.” Is he talking about Leia or Rey? I guess at the time Yoda was talking about the unnamed sister George Lucas was going to have Luke go looking for, before deciding that Leia would be said sister.

14. Leia’s Force sense tingles on Bespin when she paces their rooms, going “I DON’T LIKE THIS.” And she’s fuckin right.

15. 

16. DINNER WITH THE FAMILY! “We would be honored if you would join us.” 

16 B. Shut up Anakin. You don’t even talk that way. 

17. Han’s torture scene, I’m relatively certain, was my first introduction to whump and hurt/comfort. So there you go. I am very basic. 

18. I shipped Han and Leia so, so very hard as a kid, and it was mostly because of the carbonite scene. And then...when Han gets frozen...his face is so god damned stupid. I can’t deal with how dumb he looks. 

19. I had a friend in school who didn’t like Star Wars, but knew I did. And so every chance she got, she would tell me that Han was stupid. As a wee one, I was very upset and offended by this. As an adult, I realize that she’s totally right, but I love that grumpy himbo fuck anyways.

20. I love that there are weird, gross Dagobah stains on Luke’s flight suit. 

21. Leia grabbing the door frame to tell Luke it’s a trap is such sister energy and I love it.

22. Mind fuck: Anakin dueling his own son, who is using his old lightsaber. Like. Can we talk about how twisted up Anakin had to be to go through with this fight against the child he so desperately wanted? God dammit, Anakin. Stop it.

23. lol Leia just standing there, letting Chewie choke out Lando is 1. Such a mood. and 2. Such an Anakin move. She is her father’s daughter. 

24. If Anakin knew Luke had been hanging out with Yoda, he woulda shit bricks. 

25. It is amazing to watch the hero of the story lose this fight. Because he loses really, really badly, and I feel like that’s not something we see much of in these big budget action films. At least not to this extent. 

26. 3P0′s “Wonderful!” was used in a lot of commercials for the trilogy when it was televised. It will be embedded in my brain forever.

27. Luke gets his hand lopped off in the same manner Anakin lost his arm is such...ugh. It’s another moment that Anakin could have recognized as being a sign that he should stop. 

27 B. I wanted to have a mech hand as a kid. I thought it was cool as hell to get maimed by a lightsaber. Please don’t judge me. I was 11. 

28. “I am your father.” It’s this enormous moment. One that Anakin squanders on the Dark Side. 

29. Luke would rather die than join the Dark Side. Anakin once felt that same way. Damn.

30. Luke reaching out to Leia is another huge moment, where we get the feeling that there might be more to her than we’ve been told so far. Which I love. She is the only main female character in the entire trilogy, and she’s given so much to do. Princess, Rebellion Leader. And now...maybe a Force sensitive! Woo! I also love the imagery of her sitting in the pilot’s seat on the Falcon. 

31. I love that Han and Lando are so similar. “It’s not my faukt!” 

32. “Ben. Why didn��t you tell me.” Because the Jedi lie about all sorts of things because they think it’s for the best. Which...yeah. Maybe they shoulda told Luke that one sooner. 

33. Shut up, Anakin.

34. LOL Lando changed into Han’s clothes. 

35. Every movie that isn’t the Prequels has a disturbing lack of Padme mentions and allusions and I hate it. I hate that George didn’t even think about who their mother was until he absolutely had to. I hate that her shadow doesn’t loom like it should. 

35 B. It hsould fuckin’ loom.

Time Travel ft. Leia and Vader

(Helped by @atagotiak)

I was reading a bunch of different time travel fics, and my brain slotted in that one "Vader hands over the Empire to Leia and is now her most devoted sycophant" dynamic and mixed it with the "Luke and Vader time-travel and Vader does the right thing but only because it would make Luke sad if he didn't."

I landed on "Leia time travels to prequels era, but her least favorite family member has also traveled with her, though it takes him a few months to find her because he has less resources without the entire Imperial Navy, but he's still a scary Sith in all black with a breathing mask and intimidating cape."

"Tiny angry lady who wants to force democracy and her giant Sith father whom she hates but has resigned herself to pointing at threats like a tank who inexplicably loves her" is a delightful dynamic.

The first few months included a lot of concern about "why do you know so much about Sith if you're not trained or looking to be one" and then Vader shows up and calls her 'daughter' and she insults him and it's like "Oh. That explains it."

Council Member: We have a Sith in the Temple. Vader: Former Sith. Leia: Listen. He is your best chance against Sidious. Also, do you want Dooku dead? Vader can make him dead. Council Member: Your father i-- Leia, scrunching up her face: Don't call him that.

Like Leia is deep in conversation when the Temple starts panicking because Vader just. Showed up? He snuck in, somehow? So Palpatine wouldn't catch him on video entering through the front door? And people try to keep her away from the trouble, because there's an entire array of Jedi Masters to deal with this Surprise Sith, except she can sense exactly which Sith it is and once she shouts "oh you have got to be kidding me!" she just starts running and, well, it's Leia. Nobody can stop her.

(Leia does have less combat training, at least less force-assisted combat training, than the Jedi. But then the Jedi don’t want to hurt here here. She's not fighting her way down, either, she's just running really fast and all the best fighters already left. They had a head start. So Leia's mostly running past random padawans and the like.)

She shoves her way to the front of the group of Masters who. Well, they're certainly ready to attack. But Vader is just standing there. Doing nothing. Still intimidating as fuck but he's not doing anything.

And then Leia bursts onto the scene like "You motherfucker."

She hits her head on a clipboard and whines because UGH he's a walking WMD and they could REALLY use him against Palpatine but also. She hates him so much.

She tries to hand him off to the Jedi council but he insists that he will only take orders from Leia herself.

Jedi: Wait, what. Leia, completely ignoring them: Did you follow me here? Vader, through the mechanical wheezing: I have no loyalty to my master and no empire to serve. You are all that I have left. Leia: Me? Me? I'm all that you have left? You committed a genocide that killed all the family I had except for the twin brother you later mutilated! Jedi: Wait what Vader, going to one knee: I pledge my loyalty and blade to you and only you, daughter. Leia, ready to explode: I. I just. Jedi, some of whom really want to say things but are slowly realizing that they just accidentally acquired a Sith Lord by proxy: What. Leia: I hate you so much but I can't even get rid of you, you're too useful. Vader: I live to serve. Leia: Yeah. Got that. Fuck. Someone get him a full medical rundown, I don't know the last time that mess of a life support system was updated. Jedi, agitated again: WHAT Leia: Listen, I don't like him, but I'm not stupid enough to throw away the second most dangerous person in the universe when I can point him at the most dangerous person in the universe. Especially not if he's going to listen to me. Jedi: But... he's a Sith. Leia: Please trust me when I say this: you might be able to take him down eventually, but he will take dozens of you down with him, and right now he's... honestly, I'm pretty sure he's more depressed than malicious. Jedi: You hate him. I can feel it. Leia: Yes, but I can be professional about it. Vader: They have not yet d-- Leia: Nope! No talking! Not until I've had a chance to process this mess!

There is a whole lot of Leia snapping at Vader to stop it whenever he starts giving off vibes like he wants to take the most violent shortcut possible.

She is not the gentle hand that Luke would be.

Leia isn't a Jedi or working for them but she's wormed her way into being an ally. They don't 100% trust her, especially not with Vader just showing up and declaring her family but like

How do you say no to a WMD walking into your house and saying "I will fight the monster you cower from at night."

There's a lot of Leia snapping off an admonishment that sounds just a little too odd and then when questioned she just says "He knows what he did."

tbh I'm not sure how long it takes for them to tell anyone that Anakin is Vader. They might hold it off in hopes that Anakin can just retire to be Mr. Amidala after the war is over.

Well, Leia hopes. Vader just lets Leia make that call and then glowers at his younger self every time they're in the same room.

I do feel like Leia tells Obi-Wan the truth first

Imagine. Imagine a Vader who’s past still isn’t known. But has gotten somewhat comfortable around the Jedi (not really but the bar for what counts and comfortable for him is low). And Obi-Wan habitually banters with darksiders, right? If Vader’s guard is down for a moment and he, without thinking, references an inside joke...

Might be the most fun in terms of ways to tell Obi-Wan "We're time travelers and Vader is what happens if you let Palpatine drive Anakin off the edge"

If Vader has decided to pledge himself to her orders after destroying her planet, then fine. She can work with that. She's not going to be happy about it, but she can make it work.

The Jedi Temple hates having Vader anywhere nearby but he is actually very good at hiding himself from people, including Palpatine And for all that Leia seems perpetually irritated with her apparent bodyguard, he does seem to listen to her.

Jedi council: We still haven't figured out how to handle Dooku Leia: Do you know his location? Jedi council: Yes. Leia: [sigh] Leia: Vader, deal with it. Alive if possible.

(Leia does need to clarify an acceptable level of violence against the people protecting Dooku.) (She needs to clarify... many things.)

Leia always says "Vader" and one time a poor fool just asks why she doesn't call him dad and she snarls out "He is not the man that raised me, and I am glad for it."

Someone less foolish later prods more compassionately and she lets them know she was adopted and didn't properly meet Vader except in passing until she was nineteen.

"And then he tortured you." "And then he tortured me, yes." "Damn." "Didn't even find out we were related until a few years later when he chopped my brother's arm off." "You... wow." "I know."

At least one exchange that is L: You mean when you tortured me? A: He did what. V: I was not aware of our relation at that time. L: Not the point! I am fully aware of your interrogation methods and I refuse to let you be the one to acquire the evidence for-- A: Wait no go back he tortured you? L: Move on, please, we already have. A: That means I'm... oh Force, I'm going to torture my own daughter what in the actual fu-- L: We're moving on.

(“I end up torturing my own daughter” If Leia’s feeling especially spiteful I can see her saying “you mutilate your own son too”)

Concept: Leia is very free with traumatizing details of her past re:Vader and Anakin thinks that it sucks but doesn’t think much of it bc Sith. And then some time later he finds out...

(I love characters who use the traumatizing details of their past to shut down conversations.)

It's such a wonderfully horrifying concept for him to try to awkwardly comfort this girl he kind of knows because having a Sith for a dad sounds like it would suck and Leia seems nice, even if she's kind of weird and uncomfortable around Anakin, but he saw her flinch around a few other tall people wearing black robes the way she stiffens around Vader so maybe it's just that!

It is not.

Vader does get a significant amount of medical treatment. Including a bunch of "holy shit, that's a lot of drugs" and similar. There is so much lightning damage.

hnnng I'm just really in love with the image of Tiny Tiny Leia sitting behind a desk for some fancy negotiation, the picture of professionalism, while Vader just stands behind her shoulder, looming, glaring expressionless death at whoever came to speak with his baby girl.

Not that he would call her that, because she'd just hate him more and he's really not sure how to fix that problem, other than doing whatever she asks with no complaints and hoping she appreciates it.

Vader: [looks at children wandering by, has complicated emotions] Leia, tired of his shit: What now? Vader: I killed them, once. Leia, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath: And you're not going to do that again. No killing children. Vader: I know that. Leia: Great. I am... regretting asking. I am so very much regretting asking.

I do really like the idea of someone asking Leia once if she wants Jedi training and she says, no, actually, she's fully aware of the fact that she's angry little ball of hate sometimes, especially towards her bio father, and she'd like to refrain from putting herself in a position where she knows enough about the Force to Fall. She wouldn't Fall. But it does make people shut up.

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. 

The Star Wars Saga Is A Meditation On Single Motherhood

It recently dawned on me that the entire story line of the Star Wars saga is built on the lives, loves and tribulations of 3 generations of single mothers. There are monsters to slay and aliens to find and planets to explore, yes, but if you think about the powerful message in the movies, you’ll come to realize it was mostly a reflection on the status of single mothers, the outcomes of their offspring, and the conflict that lives forever in their descendants.

Each trilogy, once reframed, becomes the story of one woman, who finds herself in a situation that is as old as time. She is with child, but the person who planted the seed in her is not by her side.

Shmi Skywalker or The Good Single Mother

In the Phantom Menace, Jedi Knight Qui Gon Jin meets Anakin Skywalker, a slave boy with a talent for repairing machines. The Jedi knight is impressed with the child’s abilities. He’s knowledgeable, intuitive, and most importantly he’s also kind and thoughtful. When a sand storm threatens the group of travelers, Anakin takes them to his own home and offers them shelter. 

We meet Shmi Skywalker, who in many ways is the archetype of the good single mother. She is not just quiet. She has completely erased herself. She has no personality, apart from being Anakin’s caretaker. She expresses no needs, no desires, no dreams. She simply loves Anakin, and when she sees an opportunity for him to leave the desert planet ruled by the Huts, she doesn’t stand in his way. 

In a now famous scene, Qui Gon asks her about the child’s origins and Shmi famously responds “There was no father”. The line continues: “I carried him. I gave birth. I raised him. I can’t explain what happened”.

The immaculate conception myth refers to the idea in Christianity that Mary, much like Shmi, was impregnated by some magical force, a holy spirit. Both are parabols: images we use to discuss painful topics. Single motherhood has probably always been a part of the human experience. Jared Diamond explains in “Why Is Sex Fun?” that in terms of evolution, it is more rewarding for human males to be “super spreaders “ rather than “good fathers “ . The “good father” gene does not pass down to future generations, because in effect, not sticking around to raise the child is a better strategy for a human man to pass on his genes to the next generation. Not convinced? Just count how many women have been impregnated by a rapper like Future (8 last time I checked). If you’re not into hip-hop, you can think of the offspring of the Mongol Genghis Khan

The purpose of the parabol is to provide an image, to extract ourselves from the technicalities of onr person’s story and to instead talk about all single mothers at once. Indeed, single mothers come in all shapes and sizes. Some are widowed, some are abandoned, others are lied to, and some run away from abusive environments.

Shmi raises her son the best she can, and her love for him is unconditional. She doesn’t bat an eye when he is freed while she is to continue her life as a slave. She doesn’t even seem to mind when Anakin leaves the planet and never returns to free her, even after he marries into some serious money. 

But the story of Star Wars tells us that Shmi’s relationship to Anakin, because it was so fusional, because it was all that he had, led to his undoing. In Episode 2, when he senses she is in danger, he jeopardizes his mission to protect Padme to go rescue her. When he eventually finds her, he is so upset about her ultimate death that he commits mass murder, targeting the Tuskan riders of the sea of Dunes.

When Yoda first lays eyes on Anakin, he senses Anakin’s pain, he is just a child whose been ripped away from the only human that’s ever cared for him deeply. The turmoil inside the boy is palpable, and Yoda advises against training him. 

Padme Amidala or The Bad Single Mother

Anakin develops feelings for Padme, and in Episode 2 the pair decide to secretly get married in the lake district of Padme’s home planet Naboo. Their relationship is very intense. Both share a strong sense of civic duty: Padme was elected queen of the Naboo when she was just 14 &  Anakin is a keeper of the peace. They care deeply about issues such as how the galaxy must be governed, how much action needs to be taken versus when diplomacy must be prioritized. 

Their strong sense of service has made them lonely young people. They’re far away from their families, surrounded by advisors, servants and droids - not friends. 

They jump into their relationship with an eagerness that suggests it is their original caretakers they crave for.

Padme becomes pregnant while the Clone Wars are raging, and immediately Anakin begins to experience trouble with his sleeping. He imagines Padme is dying in childbirth, and the visions haunt him during the day. His fear that she will die ultimately leads to his decision to join the Dark side of the force. Senator Palpatine has manipulated him into believing that Sith Lords have discovered the power to prevent death itself. 

Just like his mother before him, we need to look at Anakin’s story in terms of symbolism. It isn’t really about his specific experience with fatherhood : it’s about the universal conflict that men feel towards their own offspring. Even the way it is announced to him, in the Senate chambers, barely hidden from the rest of the Coruscant elite, implies some sort of entrapment. The columns around them seem to be like a cage that is closing in on his life. He is in the middle of the Wars - he should be celebrating his victory over General Grivious, but instead he is stuck with his wife and he has to absorb her anxiety & reassure her. 

Anakin makes a weird, forced smile and says : “This is a happy moment.” But neither Padme nor the audience believe him. Nothing about him feels happy, he isn’t relaxed: he is tense.

At the end of Episode 3, Anakin attempts to kill Padme when she condemns the mass murders he’s committed against the younglings in the Jedi temple. Hr uses for the first time his “strangling” trick, which becomes his signature move in the original trilogy. 

Palpatine makes Anakin believe that he’s killed Padme, but the truth is somewhat more nuanced. She dies of heartbreak shortly after giving birth to twins. For anyone who thought this was corny, it’s actually been proven by the scientific community that heartbreak reduces your life expectation (it diminishes the size of the telomeres in your body cells, which is the molecule that helps replicate your DNA). 

As Lisa Feldman Barret wrote in How Emotions Are Made: 

Emotional harm can shorten your life. Inside your body, you have little packets of genetic material that sit on the ends of your chromosomes like protective caps. They’re called telomeres. All living things have telomeres—humans, fruit flies, amoebas, even the plants in your garden. Every time one of your cells divides, its telomeres get a little shorter (although they can be repaired by an enzyme called telomerase). So generally their size slowly decreases, and at some point, when they are too short, you die. This is normal aging. But guess what else causes your telomeres to get smaller? Stress does. Children who experience early adversity have shorter telomeres. In other words, emotional harm can do more serious damage, last longer, and cause more future harm than breaking a bone

More severe cases involve patients actually dying of a broken heart, the myocardia just collapses under the weight of the sadness the human feels.

The original trilogy should be re-viewed with all of this new information we have. In the 80s, when Empire Strikes Back came out, the “I am your father” line became instantly iconic. But the plot twist was more like an “Oh My gosh!” moment rather than a profound reflection on fatherhood. The audience sympathized with Luke not because his father had been absent and negligent, but because his father’s job was to serve a fachist leader. It was the actions of Darth Vader as a political servant that were questioned, not his refusal to nurture a smaller being. 

Padme is the opposite of Shmi. She is the archetype of the “bad” single mother. The bad single mother is the single mother who can’t deal with the situation and checks out of it. She collapses under the weight that she feels on her shoulders. She can't get over the heartbreak, she can’t find the will to live. 

Society tends to punish the Padme’s just as much as it praises the Shmis. Television programs like “Teen Mom” are set up to shame the young deviants into adopting the correct behavior. The purpose of the show is to judge these young women into becoming self-sacrificing mothers.

Leia Organa - The Non-single Single Mother

Leia Organa is Anakin Skywalker’s daughter. She is raised by an adoptive frailly on Alderaan after she’s separated at birth from her brother Luke. Much like her mother, she becomes a dedicated public servant, a trusted leader and a beloved public figure. 

She is raised by a wealthy family in the central galactic systems. The Organas teach her the ways of the elite political class. As an adult she serves the cause of the Rebels, and when she meets Han Solo in Episode 4, the mediocre smuggler fascinates her. 

In the now famous scene from Hoth in Episode 5, Leia declares her love for Han Solo right as he’s about to be frozen in carbonite. The ultimate bad boy responds his chilling, because realistic  “I know”.

Han is nothing compared to Leia. He drives a broken down ship, doesn’t have any morals or even a simple code of conduct, much less a cause that he’s dedicated his life to. He has nothing to offer her, and is definitely not in her league. But still, in Episode 6, the pair become an official item.

The last Trilogy was an opportunity to explore Leia’s experience with motherhood. By now we know that Leia’s grandmother was a “Good single mother”, she completely sacrificed herself to protect her son & more importantly she never questioned her status of sole caretaker (remember the “there was no father“ line). We also know that Leia’s mother was a public servant, and a passionate woman who allowed herself to fall deeply in love with a sensitive young man with a non existing support system. Leia’s mother was the “bad” single mother: driven only by her career (Queen of the Naboo, later a Senator of the Old Republic) she did not step up to the task when her destiny revealed itself to her.

Leia seems to share her mother’s taste in reckless young men with a lot of attitude and no emotional security to offer. It’s the excitement she craves, not the tranquility.

Her fate will be the same as her foremothers. She has a child with Han, but when she sends him away to be trained by Luke, she loses them both.

Their dialogue in Episode 7 goes like this: 

Han Solo : Listen to me, will you? I know every time you... Every time you look at me you're reminded of him.

Leia : You think I want to forget him? I want him back.

Han Solo : There's nothing more we could have done. There's too much Vader in him.

Leia : That's why I wanted him to train with Luke. I just never should have sent him away. That's when I lost him. That's when I lost you both.

The last trilogy develops Leia’s character in a way that allows her to be something else than just a single mother. She loses her husband, she even loses her son to the dark side: but she never loses herself. Leia doesn’t allow her condition to define her. She becomes a leader of the Resistance even if it means going after her son’s New order. 

In Episode 9, Leia even destroys her son to protect Rey - the symbolism is that she’s overcome her role as a mother, she’s rejected the notion that she must sacrifice everything for her son even if it goes against her own self interest (like Shmi). She also rejects the idea that her partner abandoning her is the end of her. It isn’t. Unlike her mother, she finds the will to live, and to lead the next generation of freedom fighters and peace keepers.

The saga ends on a hopeful note for all of us single mothers out there. It comes with a message for us : we don’t need to choose between the austere Shmi and the weak Padme. We can instead decide that this “single mom” problem is kind of like beauty : it lies in the eyes of the beholder.

Single moms don’t need to think of themselves as failures, they don’t need to live in modest conditions, they don’t need to beg society's forgiveness for merely existing. They don’t need to be ashamed. 

Single moms don’t need to erase their brains and their lives, and sink into an ocean of denial either. They don't need to be obsessed with their careers or caught up in romantic entanglements that are only going to exhaust them.

Single moms can just decide that they’re women, with beautiful, inspiring personalities and kind, loving hearts. Mothers are first and foremost, the leaders of the young, the protectors of the realm and the makers of the future. It’s not that it doesn’t matter that they’re alone. It’s that they don’t have to be alone at all.

I have plans to write an AU for kotfe/kotet that involves at least the big four of my alts, that being Viticalia, Thomsyn, Montym and Belville, but I’ll likely add Erminide, my smuggler Beau, and my BH Donahelm at some juncture. For now I’m still figuring out the logistics, so consider this a test run of what may be to come: In which the others find out Bel is now force sensitive and he wants absolutely nothing to do with it while they treat him like a padawan

He definitely wasn’t meditating. Not on the light or the dark, or anything in between. Montym would have bet their title as a Master that Belville wasn’t thinking about the force in the slightest. He looked like he might be, having settled down across from Montym, kneeling on a cushion, although they couldn’t tell whether the man’s eyes were closed behind the tinted glass of his cybernetics. They may have been, and he was simply thinking, or perhaps he was staring at nothing, or perhaps he was staring directly at Montym and dissecting them.

The thought was enough to make them flinch, visualizing what a Cipher agent might look for when looking at someone, until they remembered that Belville couldn’t actually look at them anyway. And he’d probably long since cataloged anything he thought he could use as a weakness against Montym. They cleared their throat softly to get Belville’s attention. “You’re thinking, not meditating.”

“I don’t have time to sit around thinking about nothing.”

Montym huffed out a sigh. “You need to learn to center and focus yourself if you want to be able to control the force.”

“I am perfectly capable of focusing while doing other things. Is that why you force users are so predictable? Not good at thinking on your feet?” The Cipher’s tone was snide and Montym raised a brow at him and let the silence stretch.

“There is no need to take your frustrations over harnessing this technique out on me.”

“I am not frustrated. I think this is a waste of time no matter the outcome. I don’t need the force.”

“It seems very unlike a spy not to utilize all the tools at his disposal.”

“In my experience, the force is only a tool for those who regard it as one. And neither Jedi or Sith regard it as only a tool. You let it rule you, one way or another. This implies that following teachings from either of you is likely to cause me to follow the same faulted thought process.”

“Debating philosophy is a lesson for another day. I usually like to start that when the learner can at least lift a rock.” they swallowed a smirk and shook their head. “Is there never a moment when you allow yourself to rely on instinct, to empty yourself of thought and focus only in the moment?”

Belville looked distinctly unamused, head tilted to one side and expression bland. “My instincts are there when I need them. I don’t have to engage them.”

“You’re being obtuse on purpose.”

“Yes. And I can see why they put you in charge of Padawans. I was hoping you’d have snapped by now.”

“I have significantly more patience for you to try if you like, Belville. But you aren’t getting out of this until I’m satisfied you have some control over the connection Valkorion forged for you.” Montym smiled then, truly and with more than a little amusement. “Are you trying to frustrate each of us into letting the subject drop?”

“It worked with Lana and Viticalia. Thomsyn didn’t even try.”

“No, she called me. And with good reason, it seems. She does not have the patience to handle you, but you already know that. She’d have had you on your ass by now.”

Belville’s lips raised in a minor snarl and then his expression flattened. “A good spar would be better than this. I also do not appreciate being treated like a child.”

“I’ll treat you like an adult when you treat this like you’re an adult.”

The Cipher sighed and fell silent, letting the confrontation fall away, but there was no ease to his aura, instead a sharp, dissecting focus that shifted with his thoughts, planning and calculating. It always surprised them a bit to find an Imperial that wouldn’t rise to the bait, but they were quickly realizing many of them, like Belville himself, were more accustomed to diffusing confrontations when necessary. A need when dealing with Sith, they supposed. Montym sighed. “You still aren’t taking this seriously.”

“Is this truly necessary?”

“The force requires focus to wield. You have that, but you need to learn to let it be present so you can use it. Using it without understanding how to let it fill you, breathe through you, requires an amount of focus that would distract you from all else. You need to make the ability to pinpoint and take hold of it second nature if you want to be effective.”

Belville was quiet for a long moment. “Silence is indicative of danger, both in my line of work and how I operate. It means there are no tells, no clues, no information given one way or another. Silence means you’ve run out of options.”

“This makes you uncomfortable.”

“I thought that was obvious.”

“Less obvious than you would think.” They hesitated for a moment. “How did you learn to hide yourself in the force? I’ve felt you do it. You hide your emotions and thoughts with ease, to the degree that you can go unnoticed in the force when you chose to.”

The Cipher seemed thoughtful for a long moment. “It’s an interrogation technique. The ability to hide any instinctual reactions and override any physical instincts can be the difference between life or death. According to theory, it affects what the person using it puts out into the force. We used to practice it on acolytes so that we could successfully employ the technique against Jedi.”

Montym winced as they spoke. “An...interrogation technique?”

“Yes. The ability to hide micro-expressions and control the urge to vomit, swallow, or breath at certain points, depending on what’s being done.” His tone was so casual it cut at pieces of Montym harshly. “It can be the difference between life or death, if you’ve been captured, or under the rare occasion infiltration through capture is required.”

“And how do you do that?”

Belville’s lips pursed for a moment. “Dissociation from the surroundings, while focusing on the individual responses of the body. Granted it’s preferable to be able to use what your interrogator says and does against them rather than have to completely separate yourself from the situation. But it is possible.”

Montym swallowed harshly and nodded a little. “I see. I apologize, I am...a little disturbed by the thought.”

“You wouldn’t be the first.” Belville’s smile was tight. “You were hoping it would lead into this lesson.”

“I was, but I feel as though that may be too connected with negative thoughts and emotions to be useful.”

Belville’s head tilted again. “This is what I mean. Jedi, or Sith, you see everything as attached to emotions, when things can simply be tools. That technique is helpful in many other aspects, but that’s the reason I learned it. But it makes you uncomfortable to think I could use the same process used for handling torture to access what you see as a gift.”

“I...yes.” Montym settled their hands in their lap for a long moment. “It would almost be more useful if we had someone who had seen both sides of the fence. At least until you have the basics- except we do.”

“Excuse me?”

“Theron. He had Jedi training when he was younger. And it would not be a matter of him understanding your point of view better, he’s practically lived the same life in reverse, from Jedi to spy. Theoretically, he’ll be able to connect with your mindset better, and give you a way to access it without us having to completely change the way you think.”

“You know, I really thought I was going to annoy you out of attempting this five minutes ago.”

“You haven’t. I’ll be able to expand upon the base Theron can provide for you, and we can move forward from there.”

“Damn.”