it's been a long time since i posted any writing, but i wanted to share a little fic that i wrote as a very belated birthday present for the amazing @cosmicghostie. it's got a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and some quality brotherly bonding time between thumbs (my oc) and sparks (@cosmicghostie's oc)!
i'm linking some other lucky batch fics for those interested in reading more about these two bros!
a little thumbs fic by @just-another-dreamerr
some sparks backstory by @just-another-dreamerr
a wee brotherly bonding fic by @cosmicghostie
a day in the life of thumbs fic by yours truly :P
and finally, the lucky batch masterlist (there are so many good ones on here)!!
i'm also tagging lucky batch because i miss y'all!
Thumbs watched as the most recent addition to the batch sat slumped against the wall of the hull, one leg drawn to his chest and the other lazily stretched out in front of him. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen his newest brother. His curly hair, slightly shorter than Thumbs’ own, swayed slightly in the breeze that blew in from the lowered ramp, his eyes reflecting the distant city lights that flickered like stars on the dark horizon.
Thumbs hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to his stoic brother since he had been suddenly sent to the batch. His vod was quiet, but he knew it wasn't for a lack of things to say. As the squad’s strategist, he of all people understood that it was a purposeful silence – a clandestine tool used to sever himself from the other batchers like an infected limb, sparing them from a part of himself that he must’ve believed was dangerous – and Thumbs wanted nothing more than to stitch this wounded mentality back together.
Which is why, while the rest of the batch were out on a supply run, he decided to finally approach his new brother.
“Hey! It’s Sparks, right?”
The clone in question remained arrested in place and for a second Thumbs wondered whether or not he had even heard him.
He was about to ask again when Sparks tilted his head slightly, silently observing Thumbs from his position on the floor. After performing what appeared to be a brief visual analysis, he turned back towards the open ramp, nodding his head in response.
Thumbs smiled. Progress.
“So you decided to hang back?” Thumbs asked, keeping his tone light in an attempt to ease his obviously-skeptical brother. Undeterred by the lack of response, he continued.
“Yeah, I get it. I know we all seem pretty crazy right now, but I promise that once you get to know us…” He paused, reconsidering the truth of his statement. “Well, you’ll probably think we’re even crazier.”
Sparks huffed in what seemed like amusement, the sound bringing immediate warmth to the frigid air around them. Thumbs grinned, taking the welcome gesture as an invitation to sit beside him.
The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the songs of nearby insects hidden from sight, before Sparks finally spoke.
“Why are you here?”
For a moment, Thumbs thought he was referring to his choice to sit next to him, before realizing he meant the reason he wasn’t out on the mission with the others.
“Ah, I don’t know,” Thumbs shrugged. “Didn’t seem like they needed me on this one.”
Sparks’ gaze flicked towards him briefly before focusing back on the vast space in front of them.
“You’re the strategist?”
“Yeah,” Thumbs sighed. “In theory, at least.”
“Seems weird to place a strategist with this batch.”
Thumbs knew he was right – Sparks was only confirming what he himself had thought many times before – but the comment still twinged at something buried deep within him that had never been vocalized.
“I… chose to be here. And I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”
He immediately regretted his brusqueness as Sparks’ posture once again constricted, his mouth drawing into a thin line. So much for keeping the tone light.
The uncomfortable silence that followed was thankfully interrupted when a small animal appeared at the base of the Clover’s ramp. Thumbs watched in awe as Sparks beckoned it with a few tender snaps, the furry creature immediately obeying and snuggling up to his side. With an unexpected softness, Sparks ran two fingers down the creature’s spine, chuckling when it chirped in response. However, just as suddenly as the animal had appeared, it slipped away again, scurrying back into the night.
“Huh,” Thumbs said, having observed the strange encounter in silence. “Never seen one of those before.”
Sparks shrugged. “They’re pretty common. Saw a few the last time I was here.”
“Oh.” Thumbs cataloged the new piece of information. “You’ve traveled a lot then?”
Sparks nodded stiffly.
“You should tell that to Cypher. He loves talking about that kinda stuff.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Thumbs fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unwilling to let the conversation slip away again, but unsure how exactly to proceed. So, he asked the first question that came to mind.
“What’s your favorite planet?”
“Favorite planet?” Sparks repeated incredulously.
Thumbs cringed, suddenly feeling as small as the padawans under Sparks' intense stare. For him, navigating conversations could sometimes be like navigating the battlefield – but just like in war, he had no choice but to march on.
“I think mine’s Lothal. I’ve only been there once, but it was beautiful. No water in sight – just solid earth and sun.”
Anyone who grew up on Kamino knew that the promise of stable land beneath one's feet was a privilege.
“I’m not sure I have one.” Sparks responded after a few seconds, casting his gaze back towards the floor. “But maybe someday… Someplace quiet. With lots of trees.”
His answer came as a surprise. The two of them were soldiers, forever burdened by the weight of armor, and until now, Thumbs believed that Sparks had allowed its harsh plastoid edges and carefully engineered curves to seep into the man beneath. It was a reality for many of those who were consumed by the brutality of war.
But no, he wanted quiet. He wanted to be surrounded by trees; a dream that his very name, sparks, threatened to burn.
He wondered where he got the name Sparks at all…
Thumbs was brought out his thoughts when something fell from his back pocket, clanging loudly onto the durasteel floor.
He scrambled to pick the items up before sheepishly glancing back at Sparks, who had one eyebrow raised questioningly.
“They’re… knitting needles,” he supplied.
“You knit?”
Thumbs nodded, once again surprised by Sparks’ genuine curiosity. Back with his old trainer, his not-so-secret hobby had become the brunt of many unpleasant jokes. He tried not to let it bother him but he eventually found himself knitting less and less, tired of the negative attention. He still kept his needles with him though, a good luck charm of sorts, waiting for the day they would be useful again.
“Well, I used to at least. Not much any more.”
“Why not?”
Thumbs hesitated, not wanting to get into the series of events that forced him to abandon the one activity that brought him joy during the war. He opted for a half-truth instead.
“Well, I... I don’t have any yarn.”
Sparks hummed in response; if he had any doubts about the truth of his batchmate’s statement, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he leaned over, picking up a screw that had come loose from one of the cabinets in the hull.
Thumbs watched as his brother repeatedly turned the small piece of metal between his fingers, and couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. So far, all he knew about Sparks was that he traveled a lot, had an affinity for trees, was scarily good at befriending wild animals, and was obviously reluctant to open up to any of his brothers – something that he was determined to change.
“So, what was your old squad like?”
Thumbs, eyes clouded by the fog of curiosity, didn’t catch the way Sparks froze, his spine straightening and fists clenching at his sides.
“I mean, I bet no one there kni-”
“What, now you want to talk about my old squad?” Sparks interrupted, his voice quiet, but laced with bitterness. “How about we talk about yours? Why are you really here, strategist?”
Thumbs recoiled, startled not so much by what Sparks had said, but by how he said it. Something profoundly mournful had flashed across his features before disappearing behind a wall of hostility, like lightning lost in the echoes of thunder.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s a bad habit, my brothers are used to it.”
Sparks scuffed his shoe against the floor of the hull.
“I’m not your brother.”
The statement was meant to sting, but Thumbs knew that something else was simmering beneath his apparent anger. He stood, knowing that despite his own instincts, right now what Sparks really needed was space.
“You should try to get some sleep before the others get back,” he said quietly, before heading back in the direction of the bunks.
Thumbs didn’t expect a reply, but spared one last look at his brother before exiting the hull. He watched for a moment as Sparks unconsciously rubbed his hands together, failing to suppress a shiver that coursed through his body.
Must not like the cold, Thumbs thought, before turning and closing the door behind him.
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧
The next morning, Thumbs woke slowly. Getting up was a struggle, his limbs sore from sitting on the durasteel floor the previous night. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around and found that the rest of the batch had returned from their mission, many of them now asleep in their own bunks.
He smiled when Pepper and Foxy passed, returning their friendly waves with his signature thumbs up. Thumbs was grateful to be surrounded by such a supportive batch; he just wished he could’ve gotten through to its newest member.
He knew it was hard, joining a new squad, especially Clone Force 37. They were chaotic at the best of times, disastrous at the worst. But despite their outward ferver, everyone onboard the Clover lived with the weight of their memories – images of relentless training sessions, unforgiving battles, and now-absent friends appearing whenever they dared to close their eyes – and Thumbs knew that for Sparks it was no different.
But he had looked so lost, staring out at the sky the night before, trapped on the teetering threshold of past and present.
And there Thumbs was, asking him about his favorite planet… Stars, he was useless.
The strategist had flopped back onto his bunk, one arm thrown over his face, when a pair of footsteps, quiet but firm, made their way towards him. He didn’t move, assuming it was just another squadmate heading towards the hull, when suddenly the footfalls stopped.
He lifted his arm, finding none other than Sparks standing over him.
“Sparks, I-”
Thumbs’ apology was cut off as a lump of something, something strangely soft, was thrown into his lap.
He looked down and found himself staring at a bundle of bright yellow yarn.
The smile that appeared on Thumbs’ face could’ve outshined any sun; its only competition was the one that materialized on Sparks’ own features as he turned to walk back towards the ship’s hull.
Thumbs didn’t stop smiling even as he pulled out his needles, casting onto them for the first time in years.
It was like not a day had passed since the last time he had knit, his hands moving like magic as they maneuvered the yarn, each stitch falling into their respective place. After a couple hours, the soft material began to take form and soon all that was left to do was weave in the stray strands.
Thumbs looked down at his creation feeling happier than he had in a very long time. He hoped that the pair of bright yellow gloves would help keep his newest vod warm, even when the world felt a bit cold.
do you have any tips for how to not sound like an ableist asshole when writing people who use wheelchairs in fic?
yea sure
1. kill wheelchair-centered angst plots. when you’re mobility impaired, getting a wheelchair is a joyful occasion and something you’re excited for (unless your only option is a big painful hospital chair.) there’s nothing progressive or empowering about associating wheelchair use with dreariness and misery.
2. consider the specific wheelchair user’s abilities and limitations. it’s lazy to just give them legs-don’t-work syndrome, think about why they use their chair. questions to ask yourself can include: have they always used it? do they use it because of injury, illness, or deformity? can they sometimes go without it? are they independent while using it? what are the consequences of trying to get around without it? is their day-to-day life wheelchair accessible, or do they have some challenges with navigation?
3. if you’re not disabled you shouldn’t make the backbone of your story about the disabled experience. if you’re not disabled, you don’t know what it’s like to be disabled, and no amount of imagining is going to create an accurate or meaningful representation. this isn’t to say that you should avoid disabled characters or that you can’t touch on ableism in your stories if you’re abled, but revolving your entire narrative around the disabled experience would be as hollow and meaningless as if i tried to write a story about what it means to be a black man.
4. search up and find a specific wheelchair model to give your character; the model isn’t something that has to be mentioned in-text but referencing features of a specific chair throughout your story will add dimension and realism.
5. acknowledgement of disability in fiction exists on a spectrum; on one extreme the author makes way too big a deal out of it and reduces the character to only their disability, and on the other extreme it’s entirely ignored. both of these are shitty. find balance in recognizing their condition and not being weirdly obsessed with it.
6. if your character resembles a caricature of a stereotypical wheelchair user, they need to be rewritten. this comes in 2 major flavors: the helpless, naïve, useless wheelchair user, or the entitled, whining, unpleasant wheelchair user. adding to the stereotype glut affects people’s perceptions of disabled people in real life.
7. the most important thing to remember is that they are just a person sitting down. wheelchair use is not an altered state of consciousness. develop them the same as you would any other character, and be mindful of their limitations as you do so.
Who is your favorite oc you’ve come up with (even if it’s just in your head!)
And what is your favorite thing about Thumbs’s personality?
All the love to you!!
<3💜
aww jinn, thanks for the ask! 💛
tbh i look back at my older oc's and cringe a bit, so i think thumbs is probably my favorite!! i have so many half-written stories about him that probably will never see the light of day, but it makes me happy to write them.
my favorite thing about his personality is definitely that he would do anything for his brothers in order to keep them safe and together. he's a bit uptight and a stickler for the rules, but forces himself to adapt so that he can be there for his unconventional and chaotic family <3
and on a lighter note, i love the fact that the poor boy cannot tell when he’s being flirted with. he’s completely oblivious until one of his brothers intervenes and helps him out!
as a little treat, here are the opening paragraphs of an in-progress fic that centers around his not-so-happy backstory (because apparently i am only capable of writing angst and whump). i know it's just a snippet, but i haven't posted any of my writing in months and need to get back into the habit!
If there was ever a sun that had warmed the surface of Aleen, you wouldn’t have been able to tell. The storm that had built up was unlike anything Thumbs had witnessed on Kamino.
It had come out of nowhere, the sky turning dark as the scorched scars of previous battles that marred the plastoid of his armor. A dense fog, penetrated only by the sizzling combination of heavy rain and blaster fire, made it impossible to see more than ten feet in front of him. Orders were being shouted from every direction, some cut off too soon, leaving brief and heavy silences in their wake. He struggled to catch his breath, unable to differentiate between the booming thunder and the cacophony of combat that surrounded him.
He already knew it was a failed mission. At this point, it was simply a matter of seeing who would be left standing at its end. Thumbs spared a glance up at the rocks where he had last seen his brother, hoping that he wasn’t taking any unnecessary risks. He would never forgive himself if something happened, especially after the words they had exchanged just hours before...
i have read so much incredible bad batch fanfic this week. y’all are killing it!! here are some of my current favorites:
@agentmarymargaretskitz’s fic “The World We Once Knew, Gone It Is” — in this fic, hunter joins the empire instead of crosshair. it’s beautifully written with lots of surprising plot points and character development, and tons of cute sibling moments between omega, cross, and the rest of the batch!!
RubyStiff89’s one-shot, “Spreadsheets and Happiness” — this fic centers around echo finding happiness in the wake of all the loss and war he’s dealt with. prepare to cry — i did. bonus points: tech reads cheesy romance novels.
@sanru’s multi-chapter fic (nearly 100,000 beautiful words!!), “To Be Reinstated” — this one revolves around crosshair dealing with the aftermath of tbb episode 12 and him learning to open up and trust people again. he comes across some familiar faces and makes some new allies (prepare for lots of protective, self-sacrificial, big brother vibes). be warned: you will become very invested in this fic (especially its oc’s).
@kaydear’s incredible fic “introductions” — this is a modern au story that details the batch’s fight for custody of their long-lost sister, omega (if you hated nala se before, just you wait). the writing is paced perfectly and the character development is amazing. it’s so cool to see how the batch’s personalities translate over to a modern setting! if you like this, definitely go check out their other modern au bad batch fics!!
Shads_the_queen_of_the_potato_people’s fic “Gravity Well” — i would leave 1,000 kudos on this one if i could. it’s great if you’re looking for a perfectly balanced mixture of action, plot, and ~spice~. it centers around two oc’s and their growing relationships with crosshair and echo. the rest of the batch, and some of our other favorite clones, make appearances as well!
@yatzstar’s fic “The Ghost of Ord Mantell” — in this fic, omega is kidnapped and it’s up to crosshair to get her back. it is paced beautifully and i’m always left at the edge of my seat. also, crosshair’s characterization is *chef’s kiss*. i am anxiously awaiting the next update on this one!! i also love @yatzstar’s other bad batch fics (i’ve read (and LOVE) all seven of them)!!
Pily’s fic, “At Least” — those of you who read lots of bad batch fanfic are probably familiar with Pily’s work, but this one hit different. it focuses on omega (and the rest of the batch) as they deal with the sudden loss of hunter. it portrays the complex nature of death and grief so well, and is guaranteed to make you cry. i haven’t seen this concept often in bad batch fics, so it’s definitely a must-read!
i wanna start doing fic rec lists like this more often, so if you have anything you’d like to recommend (whether that’s your own work or someone else’s), feel free to let me know in the comments! <3
Just remember: If all writing fiction ever does is keep you from losing your goddamn mind during this pandemic, it has served you well and needs no other justification for consuming hours upon hours of your time. It does not need to be good. It does not need to be finished. It does not need to get published or praised. It only needs to soothe you, to hold you, to occupy your mind, to amuse you, to tether you to this world, to keep you from going mad, to keep you company, to keep you alive.
sorry for my recent absence! i’ve been visiting family and *attempting* to spend less time on my phone. i will start regular posting again tomorrow!
in other news: today i heard back from one of my favorite literary journals which i submitted to way back in february. since then, i’ve been checking my email every few hours to see if my application had been processed. i knew submitting for this journal was a long shot, and while i tend to be a realist, a small, optimistic voice at the back of my mind was telling me that i had a chance. so today when i found out my piece had been rejected, i was definitely bummed and even more embarrassed that i had ever felt a sliver of confidence in my piece to begin with. i never told my parents or friends that i applied and i guess now i won’t have to tell them i got declined. recently, i’ve heard, and even given, so much advice in regards to having confidence in your writing, not comparing yourself with others, and staying motivated in the face of rejection. i’m starting to realize just how difficult it is to transform these words into practice. so i thought that i would tell y’all about my own rejection because if setbacks like this become less stigmatized, then maybe us writers wouldn’t feel so damn insecure all the time. if i’m gonna be honest, i’m not really seeing the positive side to this whole experience - it all feels kinda sucky right now - but if any of you are silently dealing with rejection or self-doubt, at least know that (as basic and superficial as it sounds) you’re not alone.
anyways, my dms are always open! i promise i’ll be back to normal content tomorrow. love y’all ♥︎
did not realize i didn’t reblog this to my main account (i am very sorry about that) anyways, if anyone likes kylo ren/star wars/the madalorian/din djarin, please stop what you’re doing and go show her some love! she has been supporting me for such a long while now, and i couldn’t possibly be more grateful. hazel is such a kind human being and she represents love and positivity. her stories are beautiful, they always make me excited to read!! her stories are hidden gems and i’m so glad i came across her a few months ago! once again, check out her stories alright <3 you can find them on ao3, quotev, and wattpad♥️
thank you so, so much for the kind words @samanthaaerynbarlowe - this completley made my week ♥︎ and for all my fellow kylo obsessors, please go check out her incredible fic “Just For Him”, (because who doesn’t want to read about nineteenth century kylo??)
Under blue moon, I saw you
So soon you'll take me
Up in your arms, too late to beg you
Or cancel it, though I know it must be
The killing time
Unwillingly mine
~ The Killing Moon - Echo and the Bunnymen ~
All you could hear was a loud thumping. Dizziness smothered your senses as you struggled to stay standing. Time seemed to slow and the stars outside blurred into one another, streaks of dying light painting your vision. The thumping continued as you tried to figure out if you were hyperventilating or if you had stopped breathing entirely. It was impossible to latch on to any one thought — like the passing stars, they absorbed each other.
The thumping… What was that sound? It was loud, too loud.
You moved to the other side of the room, trying to get away from it, only to have it follow you. So you attempted to escape to the opposite side: same results. You slid down the wall, thinking that maybe it was coming from above you. But you still heard it…
Thump, thump, thump.
It was only when you drew your knees to your chest that you realized the sound was coming from inside you: It was your own heartbeat. You squeezed your eyes shut and grasped your head in your palms, trying your best to breathe more evenly.
Everything had changed in a matter of seconds. The feeling was familiar, one you had experienced many times throughout your life. You didn’t talk about it much, but you had held a dormant anxiety within you ever since your brother died. It was like you were constantly walking along the edge of a cliff, but blindfolded. You knew that at some point the ground beneath you would give out into nothingness, but you didn’t know when . It left you stuck in an almost perpetual state of panic, but you were so used to it at this point that it became more of an accepted doubt that nothing good in your life could ever stay for too long.
After your brother Benji died, you were devastated. In the weeks following his death, you found yourself becoming closer to your older brother, Doran. The two of you had never been very close before then, but you both seemed to bond over your unconditional love for Benji. You and Doran found that you possessed a silent, yet comforting understanding of each other. The two of you would often go out to the fields where Benji liked to explore and simply sit together. You sometimes would talk - not about Benji, but about Doran’s speeder racing, your schoolwork, what dad was making for dinner… But underneath the seemingly trivial discussion, you both knew why you were there, looking out at the same horizon that Benji used to love so much.
After a while, you started to think that maybe things would be okay, that Benji would’ve loved to see you and Doran getting along so well. That maybe you could be happy again… for him . But then, one morning, Doran’s speeder wasn’t parked in its normal spot outside of your house. It wasn’t until later that day that your parents told you he had left. He had left you .
After years spent years wondering why , it wasn’t until now that you realized maybe he was just trying to get a jump start on fate. Maybe he knew that at some point things would turn for the worst and he wanted to take control of fate before it could take control of him. So he ran.
Soon after he left, your mother asked you to join the Resistance. You thought of the offer as one last chance for you to overpower fate, both your own and the galaxy’s, so you said yes.
When you arrived on the Finalizer, however, you felt anything but in control. You were met by the harsh realities of the First Order: the coldness its hallways, the hollowness of Mrs. Stoney and Hux, and the initial isolating confusion that came with the discovery of your abilities.
But then you met him.
He was just as lost as you were and equally as stubborn. Like you, he was haunted by fate, though you still didn’t know why. All you did know was that when you were with him, whether that was during training or those rare moments of quiet discussion between the two of you, you felt like everything stilled, like the planets stopped spinning on their axis’ and the stars stopped shooting across the sky. When your world felt like it was falling apart, he wasn’t there to pick up the pieces, but to show you how. He helped you realize that it is impossible to understand the universe until you understand yourself.
You just wished you had more time to help him in return, to show him that he is powerful enough to resist the coldness of the First Order and whoever it is that haunts him. That he could trust you to help him every step of the way.
But it was too late: you broke that trust.
And he wasn’t the only one: your coworkers, your friends, they couldn’t rely on you either. What would they think when they found out you left? And even worse, what would they think when they found out why you left? All those talks with Koda and Finn about loyalty and forgiveness, and here you were, lying to them the whole time. What would Rilea think? There was so much you still wanted to ask her. As long as you’d known her, she never ceased smiling; you couldn’t bear to think that you could be the cause of her frown. Stars, you’d even miss Soren. You can imagine his face as he tells the rest of the group ‘I told you so’ when they find out who you really are. And of course there was Akilah… your first true friend on the Finalizer.
Even if you did manage to get off the ship, where would you go? You couldn’t go back home — that would put your family in danger. As frustrated as you were with them, you could never intentionally put them at risk. If you did try to go back, would they even want you there?
You figured the best course of action would be, at the very least, to peel yourself off of the floor of the training room, head back to your quarters, and pack a bag.
----------
The walk to your quarters felt strange. You passed by a trooper squadron and a few officers, none of whom paid you the least bit of attention. It felt like the gravity onboard had increased, leaving you heavy and sluggish as you turned the final corner to your room.
When you arrived, you packed a small bag as quickly as you could. You grabbed a couple pairs of standard work clothes and a few toiletries, before gingerly placing your sketchbook on top so it wouldn’t get crumpled.
Before leaving, you made your way to the refresher so you could wash your face, hoping it would somehow cleanse your body of the day’s events. You were glad you did, noting the remnants of tears that had forged small streams in your makeup. You tilted your head to the side, finding a faint redness from where Kylo had held his saber to your throat.
A wave of nausea coursed through your body and an urgent need to escape the horrifying memory, the small refresher, the whole kriffing ship, overtook you. Stumbling slightly, you hastily grabbed your bag and darted back into the hallway, not sparing a second look behind you.
You wandered in frantic circles for a few minutes, mind spinning, trying to think through your next move. It wasn’t until your third or fourth loop around the same section of the ship that your thoughts came crashing to a halt. Literally.
You stumbled backwards after having run directly into a solid form. Panic flooded your body until you made out a familiar pair of warm chestnut eyes accompanied by a halo of coarse ringlets, frizzy from sleep, in front of you.
“Akilah?” you whispered, out of breath. A part of you had thought you would never see her again. “What are you doing up?” You looked behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed.
She rubbed her eyes sleepily. “I dunno... I was just laying in bed when I got this horrible feeling...”
You barely processed her words before continuing hastily. As far as you knew, it was only a matter of time before someone would come looking for you.
“Listen, Akilah,” you started, hands held in front of you anxiously. “I know this is going to sound crazy, but I need to get off this ship.”
She froze, her glazed eyes clearing almost instantly. It suddenly felt as if you were being inspected underneath a microscope and you couldn’t help but shift on your feet.
“Is it because of him ?”
Now it was your turn to freeze, as a part of you knew she was referencing Kylo. You stiffened your posture, hoping to give off the illusion of confidence.
“Who?”
“The Commander,” she replied, expression unreadable.
You felt your heart skip a beat. “Why would you think that?”
She answered plainly, her eyes never leaving yours. “Because he knows… He knows that you’re force sensitive.”
Her tone was cool and calculated, scarily calm in contrast to the bombshell she just dropped. It was just like Akilah who, like the eye of a hurricane, always seemed serenely calm in the midst of chaos.
You took a cautious step towards her, swallowing loudly. “How did you…”
Something flashed across Akilah’s eyes, and in a moment of sudden vulnerability, her reply tumbled out of her. “I’m- I’m like you.”
Like me? No, no, she couldn’t be, you thought. You didn’t want her to be.
"You’re force sensitive?” you whispered, failing to conceal your shock.
“Yes,” she sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “But it’s… different.”
A million questions swarmed in your mind. You started with the simplest: “How long have you known?”
Akilah gently grabbed your forearm as she moved you both out of the center of the hallway before continuing in a hushed voice: “Ever since you were late to that meeting with Hux, our first assignment. I saw when he tried to go after you and you… you pushed him backwards, without even touching him. The Commander told us to forget what we saw and leave.”
She chuckled humorlessly, fiddling with the end of a stray curl.
“I guess I thought he was kidding — I mean, did he really think that any of us would be able to just forget something like that? But then Soren, Koda, and Rilea listened to him like he was making complete sense. One part of me thought I was on the receiving end of some elaborate prank or something, but another part of me was determined to play along just in case it wasn’t. After that, the others acted like nothing had happened, so I just stayed quiet too.”
You hung onto her every word. That meeting felt like it was ages ago — Had she really known for that long?
“So you knew this whole time?” you repeated out loud.
‘Yes,” she nodded hesitantly, as if scared to see how you would react. “I tried to tell you, but I didn’t know how.”
You knew the feeling well. And thinking back, you started to remember things, little things, that you hadn’t picked up on before. You recollected how she had seemed to remember that you were late to the meeting with Hux when the others couldn’t. At the time, you thought you were just being paranoid, but now...
“I’ve never pushed anything with my mind,” Akilah continued. “Not like you. But I knew about the force before, from my own research. And after that first meeting, I began to feel things. I’d know when something bad was about to happen... I think that’s what led me here tonight.”
She paused, remembering your initial request. “You never did tell me why you needed to leave. Is it because of your powers? Does he think you’re a threat?”
Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion before realizing who she was referencing. “No, no! Kylo has been…”
Akilah raised a questioning eyebrow at your casual reference of his first name.
“He’s been training me. Without him, I never would’ve learned to control… it.”
She looked at you skeptically, but didn’t ask for any further explanation. Yet another thing you appreciated about Akilah. “So if that’s not the reason you’re running, what is?”
You knew this moment would come eventually. You desperately wanted to lie — to tell her that you wanted to leave, that this was your choice. The thought of telling her the truth and losing one of your best friends terrified you.
But deep down you knew that hiding the truth didn’t help you before — you owed it to her to be honest now.
Shaking your head, you picked a speck of dust on the floor to focus on. “Akilah, there’s something I need to tell you… Something that I should’ve told you a long time ago.” Your speech was fragmented, mirroring the slow and painful breaking of your own heart. “I was just… scared. And confused. So, so confused.”
She remained silent, waiting for you to continue. You had nothing left to lose now.
“I… I didn’t volunteer for this position on the Finalizer. I was placed here. By the Resistance. The posters-”
“I know.” She interrupted calmly.
“You… W-what?”
“I know .”
The whole day had seemed a little unreal. Maybe if you pinched yourself, you’d wake up and find yourself back in bed on Lothal. Maybe you were still a kid and this was just some elaborate dream your rebellious imagination decided to conjure up one night. Maybe you would wake up to the sound of your dad whistling in the studio, or Doran returning home on his speeder, or Benji’s mischievous giggle.
But instead you heard Akilah call your name.
Back in the present, you finally met her gaze. “How did you- was it the force? Could you sense something?”
She laughed.
She laughed?
“No silly, just my brain. I noticed how you constantly stayed behind after work to put last minute ‘edits’ on the poster designs. You always seemed so determined to distribute all of them when we were on missions. On Dantooine, when Soren and I found you all bloodied up, the only thing you cared about was the fact that you had dropped the posters. Then on Lothal, you insisted on staying out late to finish distributing them.” She paused. “There’s also the fact that you don’t talk much about your childhood. So I did what I do best: research. I put two and two together a while ago. But it wasn’t until recently that I found some information on code-making and breaking, which is how I discovered the messages.”
As she said all of this, she didn’t sound upset or betrayed. Maybe because she already told the others, you thought. Maybe this is a trap.
“But all this information… And you didn’t report me to the Order?”
“Well… yeah,” she replied.
“Yeah, you did?”
“Wha- Stars, I’m too tired for this.” She chuckled, rubbing her eyes. “ No, I didn’t tell them.”
“Oh.” You paused. “This may seem like the obvious question, but why?”
You startled slightly as Akilah’s hand grasped yours. “Because I trust you… and I don’t trust them.”
Before you could think better of it, you were throwing your arms around her neck. A few tears slipped from your eyes as you felt her arms tighten around your back.
She trusted you. After everything.
Still holding onto her, you spoke between sniffles. “Kila, you can’t tell anyone that you’re force sensitive, okay?” When she didn’t answer right away, you squeezed a little tighter. “ Promise me. ”
“I promise,” she said, holding you at arms length so she could look at you. “Come on, we need to get you outta here. Do you have a plan?”
You smirked. “Me? A plan? You know me better than that...”
The two of you stood in silence, trying, and failing, to come up with an idea.
“Wait,” you spoke suddenly.
“What?” Akilah replied, a touch of surprise in her tone.
“I might actually have an idea. After I started my Force training, Ky- Commander Ren gave me the codes to the escape pods in case anyone ever found out about me. I had completely forgotten about them until right now. There’s a good chance the codes have been changed, but it’s worth a shot.”
You paused, a swell of sadness engulfing your body at the thought of Kylo. If this plan worked, it’s likely you would never see him again. If you did see him, the reunion would probably end with you on the receiving end of his fiery saber. You shook the thought from your head with a shiver.
Swallowing loudly, you continued. “Getting to the pods will be an issue though. I don’t have the clearance to get to that section of the ship.”
Akilah twirled a curl between two fingers and bit her bottom lip. You knew this look — it meant she had an idea.
“For reasons I won’t disclose,’ she spoke furtively, ‘I may know most of the entry codes for the entirety of the Finalizer. I’ll just need your help with the troopers.”
You shook your head incredulously, though to be honest, you weren’t surprised. If anyone could save the day with their brain, it was Akilah. “You’re kinda the best, you know that, right?
The corner of her mouth twisted upwards slightly. “Come on, let’s get moving.”
---------------
The two of you moved through the ship swiftly, Akilah typing in the door codes and you keeping a lookout for any stray troopers. You breathed a sigh of relief when you finally made it through the last set of doors.
“This is it,” you said, making your way to the nearest pod. You set your bag on the floor, reaching in to find your journal while Akilah stood watch by the door.
“Kriff, where is it?” you said, still rummaging through your bag.
Akilah turned back towards you, her expression now worried. “Where’s what?”
“My notebook, the one I draw in.” Beginning to panic, you roughly dumped the contents of your bag onto the floor. “I wrote the code to the pod in it… but it’s not here!”
A loud bang sounded from behind you, like a door being slammed open. You and Akilah locked eyes and spoke at the same time:
“Hux.”
Despite the fact that he was still a few rooms away, you both had sensed who was approaching. A wave of pride swept through you knowing that Akilah shared your abilities — you just wished you had more time to learn and practice with her. Another echoing bang forced you out of your thoughts.
“Kila, you have to leave, now.” You glanced in the direction of the sounds nervously. “They know I’m here.”
“No, I won’t leave you. We’re too close.”
You abandoned your pack and closed the distance between your bodies. “Akilah, please, go. The journal has gotta be here somewhere,’ you said, waving a hand toward the pile of clothes on the floor behind you. When she didn’t look convinced, you placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll be fine.”
“No you won’t,” she brushed your hand away. “I’m not naive - I know what they’ll do if they catch you.”
Knowing Akilah’s emotional side wasn’t going to budge, you tried appealing to her rational side: “It’s not going to do us any good if we’re both caught. You need to go. ”
You watched as she frustratedly wiped a tear from her cheek.
“Please,” you begged. “ Trust me.”
She was angry, you could tell. Angry that the one person who could understand her abilities was about to embark on a suicide mission. However Akilah also knew that this was something you needed to do. If you didn’t escape now, there was a chance you never would. And if, or when, things went south, you knew she wouldn’t hesitate to come to your aid. But she'd need to be alive in order for that to happen.
Swallowing her emotions, Akilah finally spoke: “I do.”
She backed away slowly, heading towards the door opposite to the one the noises were coming from. “May the force be with you.”
“May the force be with you,” you repeated.
And then she was gone.
The footsteps got louder and louder as you made your way back to the escape pod. You had lied to Akilah, and you knew that she knew it. You didn’t have the journal — it must have fallen out of your bag. The only thing you could do now was try random combinations, hoping that one would open the door to the pod. Your finger had barely touched one of the numbered buttons when a voice sounded behind you.
“Stop right there.”
Kriff.
You spotted a familiar black and orange blur from the corner of your eye .
“And where do you think you’re going?” the voice drawled.
You finally turned, finding yourself face-to-face with Hux and a small group of troopers. Your first instinct was to use the force to make him turn around and forget he ever saw you, but you couldn’t. Learning that Akilah was force-sensitive made you wonder how many other people on the Finalizer were too. You assumed Hux wasn’t, but what about the stormtroopers that stood on either side of him? You couldn’t take the risk of one of them finding out. Your powers were the only way you continued to have an advantage against your enemies and you wanted to keep it that way.
“Nowhere,” you finally replied. “I was just checking something.”
Hux spoke slowly, taunting you. “Checking something... In the escape pods?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I was looking for something that I dropped.”
“I think I may be able to help,” he said in mock kindness. “Is this what you’re looking for?”
He reached a hand behind his back, pulling out your notebook. Kriff. You weren’t stupid enough to write directly about your missions for the Resistance — It was more of a casual diary than anything. But you knew that even a few drawings could be incriminating evidence in the hands of Hux.
“It’s just a visual diary of sorts,” you replied nonchalantly. “Nothing special.”
He opened it up, roughly flipping through the pages. You flinched seeing the drawings you put so much effort into being so carelessly maneuvered. It was the opposite of how Kylo had handled it. You remembered how one night, after training, he had questioned you about your journal. He was almost shy as he asked to see some of the drawings. You remembered how careful he was when he opened the front cover, as if his fingers were knives that could rip the pages at any moment. You watched as he silently observed each page as if it was an ancient text that held the secrets of the universe.
“Not much to draw up here, is there?” he had said to you, referencing the Finalizer.
“I don’t know,” you replied. “I’m sure I could find something.”
He hummed in response.
“My dad always said that a true artist can always find ‘something in nothing’. That’s what he loved most about art.”
You both were quiet. It was Kylo who eventually broke the silence. “So have you found it yet?”
“What?”
“The ‘something’?”
"I think I might’ve, yeah.”
Hux, having finished his investigation, threw your tattered notebook to the floor. You watched with horror as he spat on it before gesturing to the stormtroopers at his side.
“Get her.”
You remained still, letting the troopers grab each of your shoulders, before asking Hux a question that you weren’t sure you wanted to hear the answer to: “The Commander, did he… Did he send you?”
“Ha!” he laughed bitterly. “No, it appears Ren has become too soft to handle this himself. So I’m taking matters into my own hands.”
You breathed a sigh of relief, which unfortunately did not go unnoticed by Hux.
“I wouldn’t get too comfortable, girl. We are going to take a little trip to see the Supreme Leader. I’m sure he will be fascinated to hear why you are loitering by the escape pods.”
Hux took a step forward, accidentally kicking your journal in the process. As soon as his irritated gaze turned towards the floor, you sprung into action. Taking the stormtrooper nearest to you by surprise, you grabbed his blaster and slammed it backwards into his helmet.
Admittedly, while your training in the force had been improving, your blaster skills still needed a lot of work. You let off one shot that grazed the shoulder of the nearest trooper. Maybe I should have taken my mother up on those self-defense lessons, you thought. Your second shot barely missed Hux’s head — you had been aiming for his leg — and rebounded off of the metal behind him. The beam bounced off of the walls of the small room, forcing you, Hux, and the troopers to duck for cover. You cursed under your breath and unthinkingly dropped the blaster to shield your own head in the process.
When the blaster bolt finally found purchase in a nearby control station, you stood. Unfortunately, you were only met with Hux’s smug smirk as he held the blaster you had dropped in his hand, pointed at you.
“You really didn’t think that would work, did you?” You didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. “What is it that Ren sees in you?” he continued. “Because personally, I’m having trouble finding it.”
You hated the impact that his words had on you. What did Kylo see in you?
A mixture of guilt and anger fuelled your next action. You took a large step forward so that you stood mere inches away from the end of Hux’s blaster. You watched with satisfaction as his face twitched with surprise.
When you spoke, it was like you were another person. You sounded almost like your mother, whose nearly-robotic conviction had both scared and enticed you as a child.
“You and your troops will leave this room and forget you ever saw me here.”
The moments that followed seemed to last eons. You waited in silence for any sign of compliance, unsure how you would explain yourself if this didn’t work. Hux regarded you silently, his hollow eyes staring back into your own. The seconds seemed to last forever, only the sounds of your deep, shaky breaths permeating the room’s atmosphere.
“What did you just say?”
No, you thought. Must be drained from healing Kylo. All you could hope for now was that Hux just saw you as an overconfident thorn in his side, rather than a force-wielding Resistance spy.
“I said-”
A sharp pain exploded at the side of your head and you felt yourself fall to your knees. Stars appeared before your eyes in explosions of orange, yellow, and red. You looked up briefly, only to see the armored kneecaps of the stormtroopers in front of you. You wondered if any of them were Finn, if he had already found out you were a spy and was now enjoying the sight of you sprawled out on the floor in front of him. You didn’t have time to find out as a heavy boot pushed down between your shoulder blades, forcing you flat on the ground. Another hit, this one to the back of your head, made you shut your eyes in pain. This time, however, you didn’t see stars. Only a deep blackness as you succumbed to unconsciousness.
---------------
Kylo should’ve killed you. He should have run you through with his crossblade. He had done it to people who had deserved much less.
But he couldn’t. And he hated himself for it.
Ever since he left you in that training room, he felt like a part of him had disappeared, a part of him he didn’t even know existed until he met you. The air around him felt colder now, like all the suns in the galaxy had faded.
You had reminded him of the parts of his childhood he didn’t want to forget — times where he felt safe, free, happy . In the filtered atmosphere of the Finalizer, you had been a breath of fresh air. And without you, he felt like he couldn’t breathe.
Almost as if his thoughts had commanded it, all of the oxygen was suddenly sucked out of his lungs. A feeling of intense dread washed over him. The coldness that had consumed him moments before transformed into an even more terrifying feeling of emptiness . He felt nothing.
Something was wrong.
The sound of frantic footfalls interrupted his thoughts.
Slightly dazed, he spun on his heel, facing the open door of his quarters. No one but him had access to this section of the ship. A part of him desperately hoped that it was you who was approaching, that maybe you had ignored his threats and returned to him.
But it was too late. The sound of an unfamiliar voice calling out to him only proved this.
“Commander Ren, Commander… Please, you need to stop them. You need to help her.”
He was surprised to see a woman, still dressed in what appeared to be pajamas, appear at his doorway. She was hunched over and gasping for breath. She looked vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t remember where it was he recognized her from.
He held one hand over the hilt of his saber threateningly. “Who are you?”
“My name is Akilah. I’m an artist in the Office of Imperial Promotion, Galactic Truth, and Fact Correction.” She inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. “Please, she doesn’t deserve this. I tried to help her, but they took her. If they find out she’s force sensitive-”
The dots connected. He had seen this girl, Akilah, with you.
“ Who took her?” His fingers clenched and unclenched at his sides.
“H-Hux. I think I heard him say he was taking her to a Supreme Leader. Do you know who that is?”
His blood ran cold. He knew that after everything, he should only be worried about himself. If Snoke knew you were being trained, then he would be the one who was punished.
That was if you even made it to Snoke...
He cursed to himself. This was his fault. He never should have left that room. When he had put his helmet back on, watching as tears continued to fall down your face, he wondered if there would ever be a time someone would see him without it again.
But that was the thing — Even when he did have his helmet on, you could still see right through him.
You saw each and every one of his strengths and weaknesses, his hopes and fears… You terrified him. On Lothal, when you asked him where he would go if he could travel anywhere, he didn’t know what to say. Not without revealing that what he wanted most of all was just to spend a few more moments with you, wherever that may be. You reminded him that there was so much more outside of the small metal box of the Finalizer, that there were planets with beautiful sunsets, convors that surveyed the skies, laughter that floated on the breeze... There was you.
But you had betrayed him.
And yet, as much as he wanted to see his uncle in you, he only saw himself. He saw the terror in your eyes, the molten glow from his saber reflecting back at him. He saw how you didn’t move when he held the burning beam of light to your neck, almost as if you knew he wouldn’t hurt you. He felt guilt knowing he had come so close to doing so, closer than you could’ve imagined. You put too much trust in him. And he put too much trust in you. And now you were both stripped bare.
A part of him recalled the way you had begged him to look inside your mind — how you had released all of the mental barriers you had fought so hard to keep intact, so he would know you were telling the truth. He wasn’t sure he could ever do something like that for someone.
Forgiveness was not something he gave easily, but he cared for you, more than he could ever admit. From the first day he met you, all he wanted was to protect you from the coldness of the Finalizer. He couldn’t stand the idea of someone like you ending up like someone like Hux. You were probably with him now… The horrifying thought pulled him from his thoughts.
“Look,” Akilah continued. “I know you know who she worked for. But I think you and I both recognize that she is worth more than her job description. We all do things we aren’t proud of.” She inhaled a shaky breath before continuing. “To be honest, I don’t trust you. But she does, and I trust her. So please, help her. Afterwards, you can never speak to her again for all I care, but she doesn’t deserve to die.”
A brief image of your limp body lying at Snoke’s feet slipped into his mind. There was no choice to make. He didn’t want to live in a world without your smile.
He couldn’t.
“Go back to your quarters. Don’t speak to anyone.”
okay, so i am currently freaking out because the amazing @firehart9 drew my OC, Aristeia, from my fic Supernova! it is so amazing to finally see her brought to life: crazy curls, freckles, and all! definitely go hit up @firehart9 for any drawing requests, or simply for some quality blog content!
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