Saga Saga - PT Saga - ST Beyond the Saga The Call of the Drabble - UDC IX - multi-Saga - OCs and CCs (humor, angst, drama, etc)

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thanks, Nyota! I'm thrilled to elicit the SQUEE!

Week VIII - by Briannakin

Cup

Steam rose from the cup of hot chick soup as Ezra walked the hallway toward Sabine's quarters. She had not asked for it, but it was an old recipe from home and it was supposed to help the body fight any number of sicknesses.

He pressed the chime outside her room. “Who is it?” came the pathetically nasal voice over the comm unit.

“Room Service,” Ezra said, brightly. “I brought you some chicken soup. It's hot and has some spice to help you get better sooner.

The door opened and he entered to see his paramour barely peeking over a thin blanket. Her hair, as colorful as it was, was matted with sweat pulled coarsely to the side. He set the cup down on a small table next to the bunk.

“You look awful,” he deadpanned. “But, when you're ready the soup should help...you feel better.


Mug


Ezra found Kanan in he cockpit hunched over a mug of caf. The mug, given to him by Hera, said 'Best Dad in the Galaxy'.

“Hey Kanan,” Ezra said, nervously.

“What is it, Ezra?” Kanan, replied, mildly irritated at the interruption. “Mornings are for Caf and contemplation.” *

“But, I have a-”

“-Caf and Contemplation.”

“I have a secret I'm not going to tell you about.”

This got Kanan's attention and looked up from the mug. “But you just did.

“I said I have a secret, but not what the secret is,” the young man rebutted.

“You and Sabine have been hiding your new found feelings for each ever since returning from Lothal City two weeks ago.”

Ezra's mouth fell open and his shoulders sagged in defeat. “Wait! What? You know about us?”

“I'm a Jedi Master, Ezra, romantic feelings shine like a beacon in the Force.”

“Did you tell Hera?” Ezra said, concerned.

“No. That is for you and or Sabine. But, I wouldn't wait long.”

*quoted from Jim Hopper Stranger Things S1, Ep 1.

Glass


“Your son has learned more from you than the ways of the Force,” Hera said, waving her hand slowly in front of his face.

Kanan started, nearly knocking the glass of Alderra wine from the galley table. Glancing at Hera and then at the meal she had prepared form them. “What?”

“Nice one, Kanan,” she said, dismissively. “Ezra has taken to staring as much as you do.”

“Aha,” the Jedi replied in understanding. “Whom has he been staring at?”

“Oh, you already know that one, Master Jedi,” she answered, cannily. “You've been keeping a secret of your own. When were you going to tell me about Ezra and Sabine?”

Kanan shrugged and picked up his glass and took a long pull of wine.

“Right after you told me,” Kana replied, arching an eyebrow.


Goblet


“Why do you drink from such a big cup?”

“If you haven't noticed,” Zeb replied. “I'm a big guy. Why do you drink from such a small cup, Small Fry?”

“I'm no small fry!” Ezra replied, anger growing.

“Pipe down! You want mom and dad to come running and make us throw our drinks out.”

“They wouldn't make us throw it out if you hadn't taken it from their stash.”

“My ears are itchin' at your complainin', Boy!” Zeb countered. “Shut your mouth and enjoy your drink or you'll be enjoying nothing out the airlock.”


Chalice

“Ezra, I didn't know you wanted to take me to an antiquities museum,” Sabine complained as they toured the Museum of Natural History in Lothal City. “When you said museum, I thought you meant ART museum.

“I guess I could have been more clear,” Ezra said, distractedly as he gazed keenly at a display of ancient ceremonial chalices. “This stuff is pretty neat though. It's fascinating to see elements of history before we even knew there were other worlds.”

Sabine looked at the display again, this time considering the artistic elements of the archaic elements. “I guess there was some craftsmanship that went into making them.”

“Come on, Sabine,” Ezra coaxed, “More than a little. These were used in religious ceremonies. They were fine art and very valuable. So I understand.”

“I guess there is a certain flash to them regardless of how old they are.”

 

Sweet as Sabine and Ezra seem to be serious about one another and Hera and Kanan both know even without anyone saying a thing!

 

Love the sets with Ezra, Zeb and Sabine and the one with Obi-Wan and Siri was delightful

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: It's been fun writing the Spectres. More soon. I'm glad you enjoyed it.
@earlybird-obi-wan: Thanks, earlybird. It's been a while since I've done some Siriwan. It was fun. Perhaps, some more soon.

A/N: This was a weird set. I never felt too connected to it. But it is what it is.

Week IX - by mavjade

Explosive

Poe Dameron leaned over the explosive device that had been planted in his left most engineering vestibule. He had only purchased the ship, YT-2400, two standard months ago, and, to his mind had not had time to make enemies in the spice trade. Sweat formed on his brow has he had no idea how to defuse a bomb. The ship was worth more than his life and if he lost her he might as well find the highest spire and throw himself from it.

Poe nervously assessed the device and quickly determined that whomever the bastard was that left the device had not secured it to the bulkhead. Grabbing it up into his arms, he raced through the ship's corridors and down the landing ramp immediately tossing the bomb over the landing pad with three seconds to spare.


Speed

When Poe got on the public personnel carrier, he had not idea it would all boil down to another attempt on his life. Not long after the bus pulled away from the stop, driver accelerated well beyond the limits and when Poe asked him to slow down, he notice that the driver was unconscious. That was when his comm unit buzzed and a clearly disguised voice said: “Better to keep the bus moving and even faster because it if slows to below 200 kph you all dye in a blaze of glory. Oh, and you better keep it in the space lanes or you got BOOM!”

“Who is this?” Poe demanded.

“The one who has you by the short hairs, Dameron!”


Thought

Han Solo stood three customers back as the proprietor of the market booth he frequented bobbed her head and weaved back and forth and laughed nervously as she assisted the other customers. He could hear her loud voice and see the seemingly senseless gesticulations. It was all rather frustrating, but, oddly, he could not put his finger on why. Being had been accentuating their speech with hand motions or movement of their appendages since the dawn of time. Why did this woman's speech and movement seem more like an affection than some sort of defense mechanism? Why was his tension level rising and why did he continue to stand there in line as one half of his brain was telling to head home? Two things, he knew: the woman was nice, very nice, and her fromages were to die for. Han knew that if he were to know the hour of his death, he would want a bit of this fromage before his demise.


Absorb

The blast knocked Poe backward three standard meters and he landed hard on his right hip and tumbles three or four times before stopping. He was only partially conscious as he looked upon the flaming wreckage of his ship, The Sidewinder. Whomever had been trying to kill him had failed. Again. But his ship, and is dream of spice hauling was over. Turning to his left, an excruciating pain shot down his leg. A large piece of shrapnel protruded from his thigh and it was bleeding heavily. For a moment he considered pulling the hunk of metal out. He then realized that it was deeper than he thought and he did not want to bleed out on the way to the med center.


Change

“I want to go with you to Tatooine,” the young man declared.

“It's too soon,” his Uncle replied.

“Too soon? It's been months.”

“I agree with your Uncle,” the young man's mother replied. “She has much more to do and learn before she sees you again. I know you understand.”

“I do understand,” the man said. “I would only be there for a moment, to give her a smile, to let her know I'm waiting.”

“She has what she needs,” his Uncle said. “She will have to decide what do with it. She is a young woman. With a long life ahead. If she sees you now, it could change the future in ways we cannot see.”

“I understand, Uncle.”

“Don't be afraid, Son,” his mother added. “I have a feeling she will wait.”

 

explosive; Poe could save all
speed; like the movie
thought; fun with Han
absorb; alive
change; he has to wait

 

Week 3: I still love that whole concept of the Jedi investigators!

Great line.

Week 4: Fun set! Love the Obi-Wan/Siri interaction.

I totally read this as Siri crying because of female things, but regardless, yep, Obi-Wan's reaction was totally the wrong choice.

"Golden" was so sweet, and I loved "Undying"! So fun.

Week 5: Another great set!

Such beautiful imagery, and the whole concept of this being her sanctuary, and Ezra understanding what it means that she lets him in, is just lovely.

And I really loved "Shrine"! I love the idea of the Lars homestead being a place of contemplation for Rey.

Week 6: All of these are great, but I particularly liked "Angel" and "Beast". "Angel" was just lovely.

Week 7: Awww! Such a nice mix of sweetness and fun and banter! I loved all of these but "Key" was my favorite.

So sweet! And also, I love 20s style clothes and flapper dresses.

Week 8: Another lovely set! I particularly liked Ezra bringing Sabine the soup, and their visit to the museum in "Chalice".

Truer words never were spoken.

Week 9: The Speed one was fun! Poe seems to have a knack for getting himself into those kind of situations.

I feel that, I'd be the same way!

These have all been so awesome and such a great mix of characters/eras/genres/everything! Great job.

 

@earlybird-obi-wan: Thanks for stopping in, earlybird. I appreciate the comment. The Han one was my favorite!
@amidalachick: Thank you so much for the round up, amidalachick! It was such a nice surprise to see your reviews. I'm glad you like the idea of Jedi investigators. Me too. Though I'm not sure where to go with it. Ideas?
I figured you would get the Stranger Things reference, even if I didn't cite it. I'm really glad you enjoyed the REBELS drabbles. I felt really strongly about it and I'm glad it had such an impact. The Han one just once of those that wrote itself. It was fun. Thank you again!

Week X - by Mira_Jade

Party

Byma Toc did not attend many festivities, social, political, or otherwise. He thought his presence might create a disturbance. He had been encouraged to attend certain functions but had always found a way to beg out. There was once occasion, however, that he would never miss; that was the Knighting Ceremony. He wanted to see the best and brightest and he wanted them to see him. It was not a threat, overt or otherwise, but it was a veiled warning and an encouragement to stay on the path of light. Toc knew he was an example of how things could go very wrong, but also of the benefits of staying true to the Order.


Firework

It was during one of their senseless arguments about her training that Luke had the audacity to take her hand. She had snatched it back with instant ferocity and added a biting quip about his competence as a teacher. She regretted the remark immediately, but did not apologize. What she did not regret was the touch of his hand. The electricity that shot through her arm and raced to secret places was undeniable. She looked at him, self righteousness burning in her emerald eyes, and, for a moment, she saw something else in the Farmboy. Something new. But deny it she did. Turning on her heels she left for the Jade's Fire without another word.


Gift

Poe Dameron wandered what he could give the woman who had everything. He was tired of silly remarks about her hair, her manner of dress, or her general manner for that matter. Whatever it would be, it would have to simple. He wondered it simple and extravagant were words that belonged together. Then he thought of his marriage and laughed at his previous thought. Perhaps, he should write her a poem or make her a piece of art. Maybe he should cook for her, though he has done it many times. Even in their simplicity, these ideas seemed trite. Amilyn deserved a gift from the heart that reinforced his love for her. Perhaps a getaway to a chalet or even a cabin in the woods by a river or near a waterfall. He wondered if she would be disappointed by simply telling her that she was his all in all.


Fond

“I will not say that our time together has been pleasant, Toc,” Mace Windu began. “But I have grow fond of you. You can let that be a secret between you and I, the Code not withstanding. I am proud of your turn around. To say that you are a new man, a different person, would be overstating that matter. However, it is clear that your desire to seek the Light is true and that this new role will allow for that even as you endeavor to keep others the on that same path.”

“Thank you, Master,” Toc replied, stoically. “I have a new respect for you as well. We both want an order without blemish. We want the Force to guide us. I confess, Mace, if I may, that I find myself holding the code more closely to my heart, but also more rigidly. Are we to be so austere in our judgments?”

“I will allow the liberty, Toc, this one time,” Windu said, . “You bring up an interesting point. Does redemption require that the pendulum of behavior swing so heavily in the opposite direction of the moral destitution in which one is found?”

“Do you have an answer, Master?” Toc pressed.

“The Dark side dogs us constantly, Byma,” Windu said. It is an ever-present temptation that must be resisted at all cost. That resistance is seeking the Force with your whole being; mind, strength, body, and soul. We are a spiritual order after all. Seeking the Force requires sacrifice. That sacrifice sees that the Will of the Force is served.”

“With respect, Master,” Byma said, directly. “That is only half of an answer.”

“Yes it is, Toc,” Windu replied with a sly but meaningful curl of his lip. “Yes it is.”


Farewell

As Mara approached her ship, she was overcome with emotion. Tears welled in her eyes and the personal control that she held so dear was wavering. The emotion, sudden and without explanation was unnerving. Her next step wavered and she steadied herself by pressing a hand against the hull of the Jade's Fire.

What was the Force doing? Was this even the Force? Was her body and mind betraying her? Was she ill?

As sudden as whatever this attack was, Skywalker was in her head asking if she was ok. NO, she wasn't okay, but she didn't want him rushing to her aid or talking inside her head either. She sent him a firm NO! And STAY AWAY!

Before she knew it, he was at her side. He held her arm as she lowered herself to the landing platform.

Turmoil was a clamoring inside her. She had never been at such a loss. Was this about Skywalker? Was her body's betrayal a sign that what she had been denying for so long was hurting her? She looked up at him, concern marking his shimmering blue eyes. She had just cut him as hard as she could with her words and he still wanted to help her. What could she say to that?

“What is it Mara?” Luke asked, sensing her anxiety.

The response was so simple. It was five words that could change her present state and perhaps her entire life. She just had to say them, to set aside her pride once and for all, and let the man in.

“I don't want to go.”

 

Loved Thought from Week 9 and Firework and Farewell from Week Ten -- YUM!

 

love the Mara and Mace drabbles

 

Another great set!

Great lines!

Interesting discussion between Mace and Toc in this one, and I could totally hear and see him say this line in particular!

"Gift" was sweet, and it really is such a universal struggle to find that perfect gift!

Such a great Mara voice here!

Awww! "Firework" and "Farewell" were my favorites out of this set.

Great work again!

 

I loved them all but I especially loved the last line of Farewell. The vulnerability of that was just lovely,


Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

 

A/N: I apologize for the long absence. I also appreciate all the comments from the previous set. In this set I return to my favorite AU genre of the Old West. However, the Kyp/Jaina is in full swing. I hope you enjoy it.

Week XI

Skull

Kyp Durron's skull pounded as he awoke from a pitifully short night's sleep. He should not have stayed up so late drinking and playing cards. Taking a quick survey of the room, he deducted that Jaina was already tending to the horses. His wife did not drink or play cards. He was still learning about her; what made her tick, what she would do for fun if she ever decided to have any. Their marriage was one of convenience which had translated into a mighty nice business partnership. They were Bounty Hunters. Good ones, too. Both of them were crack shots and, to their mutual surprise on meeting, excellent with a sword. Hers had been lifted from a Confederate Colonel and his from a Union Captain. Irony all around. Dressing quickly, he left to meet her at the stables.


Spine

By dusk, they had tracked their target, a rotten murderous piece of work, named Thracken. He had killed indiscriminately across the state, East to West and North to South. He had killed innocents and guilty, lawmen and bandits, and even a politician or two. The Governor had called on Kyp and Jaina to bring him in dead or alive. Kyp wondered if the loud mouth would have the spine to meet him on the street for some final words. Turns out, Thracken was as prideful as he was vicious. The count of three found a hole in his head and a coffin for his bed.


Teeth

Kyp sucked on his teeth as he considered the hand he held. It was a tell he had manufactured to thrown his opponents off. He hoped it would work. He had three Kings and a couple of nines. A Full House. One of the better hands in the game. But not the best. Jaina sat next to him at the table straight as a board. She never slouched and laid back. In fact, she never seemed to relax. Even in bed there was a certain rigidity. He hoped that would change over time. But he digressed. Laying down his cards caused a commotion which had Jaina up in a shot, pistol outstretched, daring anyone to call him a cheater.


Fibula

The rides through the desert were mostly silent. Jaina didn't like to talk and when Kyp, who liked it very much, tried to engage her, she would shut him down in short order. He wondered, sometimes, if the money was worth it, if the marriage was worth it. Then he remembered the moments of exquisite tenderness, when they surfaced, and how she could be vulnerable when she let herself. However, the times between could be like picking at the bones of dead horses lying in the dust.

“I love you, you know,” Kyp said, trying to make the statement meaningful. Perhaps, trying too hard.

“You think you do,” she replied, looking straight ahead. “You love the money more. It allows you to play. You love to play.”

“I'd give it up in a heartbeat if it meant something to you.”

“I doubt that,” she said, pulling her hat down to shield her eyes from the sun falling lower in the afternoon sky.

She turned to him. “If I love you, why would I ask you to stop.”

Kyp grinned momentarily before it melted into sorrowful recognition. “Now that is the best and worst thing I've heard all day.”


Bone (to pick)

Kyp threw the cards to the ground. Three decks. 153 cards in an unruly pile at Jaina's feet.

“I'm done!” Kyp said, in frustration. “I'm going all in for you, Jaina. No more gambling. If it means more time with you, more meaningful time with you, I'm giving it up.”

She kicked at the cards on the ground and eyed him closely. "Perhaps we should play one last game? You win, you keep playing and I open up a bit more. I win, you quit playing and you let me have the majority of kills going forward. We still split the money, but I can guarantee you that more kills will make me more...willing and active in other areas.”

"No. I said I was giving up cards regardless. You want more kills, you'll have to take them. Nothing like a little friendly competition to spice up a marriage, eh?”

She stared at him for a long moment and with a thin smile, winked at him.

 

Fascinating AU! Kyp and Jaina in the rollicking Wild West

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thanks, Nyota! Thanks for stopping in and leaving a comment. I'm glad you had fun.
@Mira_Jade: Thank you, Mira. you know I love to mess around int the Old West AU. I'm glad this one had Kyp and Jaina remaining in character. They can both be brooders , but I want to have a dangerous, but optimistic. Jaina is definitely in her hard core stoic phase.

I hope you guys enjoy this continuation.

Week XII - by mavjade

Metal


Jaina's eyes grew bright when she saw that her prey had drawn a sword rather than a pistol. It was at once the thrill of a more visceral battle accompanied by the arousal at the prospect of blood being spilled. She tossed a glance at Kyp who curtly nodded his ascent.

“Stay back now!” the man with the scraggly beard screeched. “This sword is sharp! One touch could cost you an arm or a leg or your life!”

“What you say is true,” Jaina agreed. “So sharp that it left your wife and farm hand a grisly sight to behold. I could just shoot you, Mr. Potts, but I want to know if you truly know what you're doing with that sword.

He held the blade out front, with both hands, which was unnecessary the light blade. Jaina knew this fool would go down easy and frown at that knowledge. The sword had simply been an available weapon when the man found his wife in flagrante delicto.

Potts rushed her and slashed with the blade. She stepped aside gingerly and with a backhanded wave of her blade cut the back side of his leg. Blood poured immediately from the wound. He howled in pain.

“Clearly, you have no idea what to do with it.”

“You'll pay for that, Witch!”

He lunged forward, jabbing the blade toward her stomach. With a strong downward motion, she knocked it from his hand. With her other hand, she drew her pistol, twirling it so to butt was up. Another downward strike and the man lay unconscious before her.

“Yikes,” Kyp said, sarcastically. “Witch. I wonder if he knew about the spell you cast on me?”

Rolling her eyes, she said: “Shut up and bind the wound. I want this bastard to hang.”

“Sorry he wasn't more of a challenge.”

“I'm sure you are.”


Seismic


Kyp Durron woke with a smile on his face which he held, fighting off the a wince of pain that emanated from his wrapped shoulder. The smile was in remembrance of Jaina's unbridled passion the night before and the wound in his shoulder was part of what sparked it. It was rare that he and Jaina would take a bounty for a gang, which by their reckoning was four or more. Jaina had been sullen in recent weeks, bored by bagging and tagging one offs, nasty characters or not. He had been reluctant to take a job to bag six men, but his wife had been insistent. She craved action, and to a touch of his dismay, the killing. She was right that he liked the money and it kept coming rolling on which kept satisfied. In part.

The job led them to a mining town called French Gulch. It had been raining, which he hated because it shaved percentages on their accuracy and freedom of movement. The Killik gang rode into town hungry, tired, and ornery. The worst, or best ,combination depending on your point of view. Their first shots was at the ceiling, the next were at bottles behind the bar, and finally removing the right earlobe of the barman.

Jaina had stealthily taken a position on the stairs as Kyp was sitting at a table near the front window. The hail of gunfire from the gangs flank and rear was quick and deadly. It was over before it had started. Sadly, in the hail of momentary gunfire, was hit in the arm by a stray, or very accurate slug. It hurt like the dickens! But all the pain faded away as he saw the lust in Jaina's eyes as came down the stairs. He was in luck tonight.

After confirming the bounty with the local law, husband and wife retired to their room with a bottle of whiskey. Clothes were shed, they drank their meds, and good used was made of the springs in the bed.


Fire


“Why does it take smoke, blood, and death for you to show any signs of life?” Kyp asked as the rode out of French Gulch. The rode in tight formation and at a leisurely pace.

“Been that way as long as I can remember,” Jaina answered matter of fact.

“You got some kind of trauma?” He pressed, know it might make her mad.

“No trauma,” she replied with a curt shake of her head. “Just no joy.”

“Trouble with your parents?” he asked, carefully.

“Not really,” she said, looking straight ahead. “Maybe. My mother is a consummate professional. She expected that of my brother and I as well. I mean, I guess she did. I never asked.”

“Was she abusive?” he asked, no backing down.

“God, no,” his wife answered, a tinge of mirth turning at the edge of her mouth. “Just a busy woman who did her best while letting the servants do most of the parenting.”

“What about your dad?”

She actually smiled at question. “Where do you think I leaned to shoot?”

Kyp pressed his lips together and nodded his understanding. “Is he responsible for your witty repartee?”

She turned to him and rolled her eyes, continuing her delightfully abnormal lightness of spirit. “His witty repartee is unparalleled. My mothers is polite, but not biting. Mine is buried deep enough that it will likely never be found.”

And, with that, his lucky streak ended. “Buried where?”

She looked far into the distance and all trace of humor drained from her face.

“With my brother.”


Impenetrable


“Will you tell me what happened?” Kyp asked, calmly, but desperate inside to learn something meaningful about his wife.

“Not today,” she said, coldly.

“It sounds like you need to talk about it. I can feel the weight on your chest from here.”

“That weight can stay right where it is, Kyp!” she snapped. “It keeps me sharp. It keeps me focused. It keeps me alive. I said not today. Drop it.”

“Is this what you call living? Because you seem more like walking dead.”

She pulled her six shooter and had it aimed at his head.. “I married you for a mutual benefit. I don't love you. I don't love anyone. I could leave you head dead in the dust and carry one like nothing happened.”

“And bury someone else who cares about you?” he ventured.


Shift

No sign of softening, the pistol returned to her holster and her hands to the reins of her horse. “I apologize. I should not have done that.”

“Not like I've never had a gun in my face,” Ky said, with a dash of nerves. “I'll live.”

They rode in silence for what seemed like forever. The sun was falling lower in the sky and they would need to either make camp or press on to the next town.

“We were on a mission for General Meade,” she said, suddenly. “Behind enemy lines. There were five of us and be the time it was over,a hole brick load of them. What the mission was doesn't matter. The fact that I was there illegally, doesn't matter either. We lit up the Rebs something fierce. It was a bloodbath. But, there were only six of us. They just kept coming, Kyp. We were dead for sure if we didn't run. Anakin wouldn't run. He insisted on covering our retreat. I pleaded with him to come with us, but he wouldn't have it. He screamed in my face for me to run and take the others. He pushed me to ground and screamed that we would all die if I didn't go right then. Tears were in his eyes. I remember them vividly. As we ran into the night, I tuned back and saw him hit twice. He kept firing until they were on him, firing into his body even as ran past him after us.”

Kyp listened intently and watched as tear streaked down her dust covered face. “I'm sorry, Jaina.” He left it at that think anymore would sound patronizing. He wasn't about to tell her that that the trauma was real.

 

Super as the details about Jaina's past reflect SW losses and choices but with a Western tang Jaina's insistence she doesn't actually love him is starting perhaps to sound like trying to convince yourself.

 

I love the Old West flair you've put on these! The tone, the imagery - it all works so well, and it's a lot of fun to read!

I really liked this line! It's so simple but evokes such a vivid picture of the whole scene.

And all of Week 12 was awesome! Action, romance, angst, and all so well-written. Nice development of Kyp and Jaina's relationship too.

Loved this bit!

These were both great sets, and I'd definitely be interested in reading more of this 'verse!

 

A/N: This one has been a long time coming. I'm glad I could finally put the last 3 drabbles together. Thank you to all who have supported this thread. I have not forgotten it and I hope it will spark more creative energy for completion and the forthcoming Summer Olypics! Enjoy.

Week XIII - by Mira_Jade

Forge

“Elbows off the table!” Hera snapped as Ezra shoveled a spoonful of Tiagan soup into his mouth. “Are you a child or a Jedi apprentice?”

Sabine jumped at the sudden admonition, making sure that her elbows weren't on the table.

Ezra seemed to ignore the Twi'lek captain as he forged ahead, quickly adding more bites of soup, that proceeded to drip down his chin.

Hera stood, abruptly, and pointed at the door of the galley while pulling the boy's bowl of soup away from him. “OUT!”

Ezra glanced at Kanan, who shrugged. “Guess you better go.”

“Uh huh,” Zeb grunted. “Better to mind your manners next time, Boy.”

After Ezra had gone, Hera placed a hand on the table in front of Zeb. “It might also be best for you to mind your own advice.”

Wraith

Han Solo did not believe in ghosts. Hokey religions and all that. However, he was having a hard time reconciling the tail he had picked up with the man he knew was dead. Han had been around long enough to know how to shake someone who was following him, much less double back and get the drop on the poor sucker. The problem was the that the tail kept disappearing. The thinning greasy blonde hair , the careless, confident swagger, even the dirty old over coat were unmistakable. Beckett was haunting him, but didn't have the nerve to show his face.

Greed

Han and Lando should have known better than to invite new blood into their present job. Desperation has a funny way of toying with your instincts and your better judgment. Carson Jontak was a rising name among smugglers and bounty hunters, but he had a reputation for being risky and careless. When the job called for them to take three specific cargo containers, Jontak insisted on a fourth which put three of them into a firefight with the Port Authority and a squad of Imps. Lando stayed his hand when Han was ready to shoot the hotshot in the face.

Undoing

Some kids never learn. You can warn them. You teach them better ways to do it. You can even show them the consequences in the lives of others. But, some kids just won't learn. There is something in them that fails to see beyond their limited vision. Han was never one to ruminate too long on the philosophical or the ironical, but two blaster burns in Lando's cape and some singed hair was too much for Han to try and return the favor of staying his buddy's hand. It was Lando that put the boy down after one too many mishaps.

Precious

Han Solo had few possessions, few things that he cared to keep around long enough to form an attachment. Little ones had their stuffies. Teens had their comm units. Adults had their...whatever they had. Han Solo had only ever been attached to one thing, one person: Q'ira. She was gone. Forever. The only thing, the only Lady that would ever be in his life was the Millennium Falcon. She was not a person. Nor was she a thing, a mere object. She was beautiful. She was reliable. She was the only one that Han would eve again see as precious.

 

Forge ... liked the snark there and the attempt to instill table etiquette
Precious -- loved this bit of insight into Han's feelings.

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha: Thanks for reading these and taking the time to comment, Nyota.
@Mira_Jade:Thank you, as always for taking the time to read and leave such encouraging comments. Yes, Han is bitter in wake of Qira's demise, but e know that Love hasn't given up him.

Week XIV - by Briannakin

Fedora

“Have you ever watched any of the ancient serial holos?” Amily asked, taking a sip of citrus juice.

"I've seen a couple,” Poe replied. “But, I've had enough real adventure in my life to make them seem kind of silly.”

“I don't know,” Amily demurred. “There is something be said for the fashion of the era, and the accessories. I think you would look dashing in of those fedoras.”

Poe wrinkled his nose. “I'm not really a hat guy. The only head gear I wear is my flight helmet.”

“What about the old projectile weapons. The way you handle a blaster. I imagine you could be quite the gun-slinger.”


Whip

“Come on, Poe,” Amilyn pleaded. “Crack the whip! Just once. They may ask you to do it at the ball.”

Poe took the whip in his hand and waved it around to the effect of a slithering reptile. With a flick of the wrist, he cracked it. The snap surprised him for a moment before a wide grin of satisfaction crossed his lips.”

“My, my,” Amilyn purred. “My man is a natural. Do it again.”

He cracked it again, and a third time, eliciting giggles of excitement from his bride. “You like that? Do you?”

“Let's just say my temperature has risen even further.”

“I like the sound of that.”

“Leia once told me about how Luke took her in his arms and they swung off of Jabba's barge on a rope? Do you that whip would hold us?"

“There is only once way to find out?” Poe said, pulling her to him for a kiss.


Satchel

“This is ridiculous, Amilyn,” Poe said, shrugging his shoulders at the discomfort of the satchel strap on his shoulder. “The leader of the New Rep-”

“Looks more ruggedly handsome than ever. Didn't I tell you the hat would look good.”

His slight nod and awkward smile, warmed Amilyn's heart. “Now, you can't shave until after the ball.”

“The ball is in three days,” Poe protested. “I have public appearances...” They will understand when they see the holos of you in full costume.”

“Or, I could just tell them that Holdo! Made me do it?”

Amilyn pressed her lips together tightly and shook her head. “They may know us better, now, but saying I made you do anything wouldn't be a good look for you.”


Leather

As Poe got into costume on the night of the ball, he decided to look into the leather satchel that was to hang at his hip. What could Amilyn have put in there? The first thing he noticed was some faded documents that were not flimsi, but appeared to be paper. They were faded and stained and had odd stamps that appeared to official in nature. TOP SECRET, Eyes Only, Confidential. Also included were three ancient styluses. He wondered is they contained real ink. There was a comb, an extra shirt, a flash-light, and the re-volver he had been practicing with earlier. Finally, a separate leather pouch that was zipped closed, he found and ancient straight razor. Set into the pouch was a note in Amilyn's beautiful script: “For you shave tomorrow morning. <3”


Tweed

“I never saw a serial hero wearing tweed, Amilyn. Even in their off hours, when they weren't riding horses, jumping from trains, or dodging enemy bullets."

“This has nothing to do with old holos, Dear,” Holdo replied. “This is my attempt to get you into casual lounge wear. What if we go hunting on the estate grounds or go into town for caf and eclectic spoken word performance? What if you have to give a talk to a group of academics? This is what Tweed was made for? Casual, but elegant. Earthy, but urbane. Elite, but not pretentious.”

“Really?” Poe countered. “It is about as vintage snobbish as I can imagine. Do I really want to appear elite at all?”

“Despite your snobbish disdain for perfectly good clothing, I want you to keep in mind that is not for them. It's for me. You don't even have to wear it in public. Just humor me for a while.”

 

You manage your drabbles masterfully. It does not matter whether your characters are PT, OT, Episode 7 until 9, SW Rebels, legend characters or OCs.

 

I came here for my fix of Poldo, but I stuck around for Byma Toc as well as Kyp and Jaina in the Old West!

Okay, first things first: I loved everything Poldo in this thread, but having read the last set of drabbles I think that Poe hasn't watched the Indiana Jones movies, and that's something he needs to remedy asap! Plus, he need to learn not to throw around words like "snobbish" in front of Mrs Hairdye.

Now, the rest. All of it is wonderfully written (special mention to the Rebels bits) but the Byma Toc series and the Kyp and Jaina series really stand out. Byma Toc has got to be the most clever idea for an OC that I've seen in a loooong time. I can think of quite a few Jedi who went dark because they became evil, cruel and all-around nasty, but I'm pretty sure I've never seen one who went dark because of greed. I don't know if you're aware that the current OTP challenge is about the Seven Deadly Sins, and I personally feel that Byma Toc must, absolutely, definitely make an appearance in a story for that challenge.

I also found that turning Kyp and Jaina into a bounty hunter couple with a Bonnie-and-Clyde vibe was a fantastic, fantastic idea. It just... works, and it makes for such an unusual AU where characters keep their major traits but live entirely different lives in a galaxy not far away at all. I certainly hope there's more to that universe!

I have the thread on watch now, so I'll be around when you update next time