#jasati

[rinskiroo]

warning: they're each other's impulse control

[rinskiroo]

Something Awful in Common

AO3 Link

“Was it like that for you?” Jas asks once she’s screwed up enough courage to broach the subject.

“Kind of,” Kira says. “But you said you don’t remember anything.”

“No…” Jas sighs and lays back in her bed. They’re lounging in her quarters, but it’s more like hiding. Everyone’s still raw from the escape from the Emperor’s fortress and wary of their newest companion. “I remember us fighting… losing… and then nothing really.”

“I remember it all,” Kira tells her. “At first, I thought that it was what I wanted. I was choosing this life, but then… I didn’t want to hurt people anymore, but I couldn’t stop. I could feel myself being held down.”

Kira lays down next to Jas and their heads rest against each other. “I think if I meditated on it, I could probably recall it. I think it’s in there, but… I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see myself doing such horrible things.”

Kira’s fingers wrap around hers and squeeze tightly. “Maybe it’s better that way. After I broke free, I thought no one would ever want to be around me if they knew what I had done. It’s why I never told the Jedi, not until we had to fight Valis.”

“I’m glad you trusted me enough to tell me, Kira, and enough to tell the Council. I know it was hard.” Jas returns the comforting squeeze and hopes Kira understands just how much that trust means to her. Jas implicitly trusts the Jedi—they are her people, her culture, her family—but she understands why outsiders have a hard time.

“Me, too,” she says with a quiet sigh. “I think it makes it easier, maybe hurt a little less, that people know. That I don’t have to hide it or worry about people finding out. I wish it hadn’t happened to you, but…” she trails off, like there’s a thought she had, but realizes it’s gauche to be grateful someone else understands what it’s like.

“We should have gotten matching tattoos instead of possessed,” Jas says with a grin. She’s not offended that on some level Kira may be happy that someone else has gone through what she did. And Jas rathers it was her than anyone else. If someone has to face this fire, she’ll take it on.

“We still could,” Kira laughs, but serious.

“Bet.”

[rinskiroo]

pokes my head in. my bestie (who does not play swtor) listened to me rave about Theron/Jedi Knight for a long while, before hitting me with "they sound really damerey coded" and effectively bluescreening me. Since you're my daily dose of Theron/JK and/or Damerey vibes on my dashboard, I thought I'd see if you've ever had any thoughts about any similarities between the pairings?

oh no.

"History doesn't repeat itself, but it often rhymes." (Twain)

They are absolutely the same trope/dynamic/plot device whatever literary tool you want to assign them.

They're the Chosen One & their super competent, load-bearing companion.

They're see me at my worst and still love me. (BOTH WAYS)

It's a slow burn and then falling all at once.

Rey and the JK are obvious parallels--Jedi, (after the 5 year gap) one of the last ones standing. Losing their mentor, the person they felt truly saw them (Han, Orgus) so early in their journey. Having this ENORMOUS weight thrust upon them which, depending how you see the Alliance and Vitiate's influence on the JK, is not necessarily something that they want!!

Poe and Theron--super competent in what they do, even if it can get overshadowed by their Jedi counterpart. Impulsive. Incredibly committed to the cause. Deep ties to the narrative (Poe's parents being rebel heroes, Theron's parents and the Revan connection). Both of them occupy the space of tethering the hero to the rest of the story, beyond the conflict with the Big Bad.

I actually love this so much, it is literally the reason I wrote THIRTY THOUSAND WORDS of the sequel kids finding Odessen. (That I one day hope to finish enough to share it.) BUT here are some bits where I really injected the theme of history rhyming.

I've always had the hc that the Force entity of Tenebrae/Vitiate/Valkorian cannot die. It loses strength as the light fights back and goes dormant. Its patience is infinite. These Sith of swtor, Palapatine, Snoke, and then Ben... it's the same.

Jas even says this to Rey, once Rey figures out how to actually communicate with her

"I have defeated him. Several times. He cannot be destroyed; he simply bides his time and takes another form when the time suits him. His patience is vast and his thirst for cruelty even greater. I knew him as Vitiate and then Valkorian, and now his power grows under a different name.” “What happens… how…” Rey couldn’t think of how to phrase her question. Was Ben dead? Was he still in there? “I think I saw this creature, Vitiate you called him, but I knew him as Snoke. The man who killed him… is he now…?” “That is how it happened to me.”

Jas SEES THERON in Poe.

He’ll betray you, a cold voice of warning echoed in her mind. His kind always do. Even Poe noticed the sudden shift in the room, or perhaps he had just noticed how her whole body had tensed with the sudden malevolent presence. No, not quite that sinister—in pain, but focused pain. “Rey? Everything okay?” “I don’t think she likes you.” Poe scoffed in mock offense. “I’m a delight.” “Poe is a leader in our group,” Rey said, trying to reason with the spirit, at least talk her down from the rage Rey could still feel growing. “He would never do anything to harm the people here.” There was a ripple, almost like a snicker, that Rey could feel. Oh, but he already has. The guilt eats at him.

“What? Finn and Poe?” Rey skipped over the part where she’d called them handsome. They were, but that was not really the topic at the moment. “Poe, yes, there’s something familiar about that one.”

Of course, a lot of this is MY read on how I played my JK because I am an absolute sucker for exactly these type of characters. Thank you for asking me about these nerds. :B

[rinskiroo]

hey rinny i have to know more about order 66 au :)

SO DO I. This is another fic that is mostly just vibes. It's got a pretty good intro, but that's all. There's like no plot beyond Theron is a rebel spy and Jas is a former Padawan in hiding, currently working with the Balmorran resistance. It's one of those fics that once upon a time I thought up a lot of cool things to do.. how to put Kira, Lana, all our favs into the OT universe BUT I really should have wrote it all down. It's a fic I poke at from time to time, hoping some idea strikes me. Maybe I should just write it in snippets or prompts, rather than trying to make it an epic? Anyway, here's a part that I love. <3

He held out a dirty hand, his lips curling into half of a grin. She glanced down at the hand, but didn’t take it. “You know how to protect your mind—how?” “Just a little something they teach you in spy school.” Theron knew he shouldn’t have been flip with her. He knew he should stick to the honesty routine and try to win some measure of trust, but he didn’t trust her with that. He didn’t trust anyone with that. She didn’t seem to appreciate it. Her fingers gripped the weapon harder and breathed through her teeth. “There was only one school that taught such a thing, and you do not meet the prerequisites.” “Harsh, but true.” They stood in tense silence, staring at each other, each waiting for the other to give in first. They were both protecting great, dangerous secrets, and Theron had the suspicion that they were likely similar in what they tried to keep hidden from the rest of the galaxy. And that suspicion—Theron knew he couldn’t push it. “I don’t know who Orgus Dinn is. I was an orphan—a man named Ngani Zho took me in. He was one of them—a Jedi.” Another half-truth, but by the way her eyes lifted and widened when he’d said the name of that ancient, dead order, he thought it might be enough. Then her eyes downcast as she processed everything that he had said. “Was?” Theron swallowed. “The black machine got him. We evaded him and the hunters for years, but our luck ran out.” He pushed down the horror of that day. Even without the Force, he had felt the oppressive darkness at their heels. Theron would never forget the fear in Zho’s eyes the day the old man had pushed him onto a transport and told him to run and never look back. He wondered if she had ever come across the Jedi killer, but knew that if she had, she’d be dead. The way her shoulders dropped and she curled her arms around herself like a frightened child made him think that maybe she had. Theron didn’t ask, however.

[rinskiroo]

ugh she just looks so good

I got sucked back in, I'm gonna have to resub. thanks @keldae

[rinskiroo]

Forget

AO3 Link

I wish that I could wake up with amnesia

Another morning, another day in the office. Trant looks at him like they’re all at a wake. And they are. It’s the death of normal, if normal is even a real thing. The death of their Republic, that’s for sure—can’t very well be the champions of freedom when you’re bowing down to violent dictator. And it’s the death of her. The one he feels so keenly. The one he wishes he could forget.

Forget about the stupid little things

There’s a datachip stuck in a datapad. He’s found it on accident, completely forgotten he’d made it. It’s silly, adolescent, but sometimes making a playlist—little touchstones—helps him to form understanding of an asset, and remember bits and pieces that could be easily recalled. He’d started it while he was still recruiting for a team for the attack on Korriban, before he’d known the true nature of their mission. There was a simple Jedi meditation hymn she enjoyed—she’d put it in a survey for free ice cream. Absolutely no awareness for leaving a limited data trail, she’d filled out every survey if it came with some boon, especially if it was food.

He smiles to himself, and then screws up his face to stop any sort of emotion from taking over. He shoves it into a crate and dumps other random computer and droid components on top of it and seals it up, shoves it into the back of a locker.

Like the way it felt to fall asleep next to you

Another night alone. He’d gotten so used to seeing her every day. After Ziost, they’d had wounds to lick and time to burn. Sometimes it can still feel like she’s there beside him. She smiles and tucks her hands under her cheek on the pillow. He reaches out, tries to hold her, but she’s a ghost.

Tell me this is just a dream

A happy dream, I hope. Theron doesn’t know if it’s happy. He wishes he could forget this feeling. If he had not loved her, her loss would not hurt so much. If he had not loved her, perhaps different decisions would have been made—better ones? Worse ones? Lonely ones.

Was there always something missing over the horizon? Something to be chased? Was it something foolish like companionship or love? Now that it’s been here and gone, he wishes he did not chase it. Left maudlin feelings in holonovellas where they belonged.

The dreams you left behind, you didn’t need them Like every single wish we ever made

“I think I’d like to take a step back from the Order,” she’d said. “I don’t know how long I can keep up this fight.”

“Not because of me, I hope,” he told her. He didn’t want to be the reason she gave up her home, her family, her calling.

She smiled. He loved that smile. “Not entirely. I’m tired, Theron. I want something else with my life. A dream without death.”

The memories I never can escape

Korriban. Tython. Manaan. Rishi. Yavin. Ziost. And all the stops in between. He catches himself checking the docking manifest whenever he’s on Carrick Station, just to catch a glimpse if her ship is here, too. The maglev to the Senate complex runs by the building her apartment is in. One of her robes still hangs in his closet. She is everywhere, except in a way that matters.

I’m really not fine at all

Jace tells him it will take time. The pain will fade and the memories will bring joy instead of sorrow. Theron doesn’t know if it’s possible. So constant was her presence in the pattern the Force weaved through the galaxy and his life. Her absence so apparent, so noticed, so deeply felt.

He’s not sure he wants to see what it looks like when he can’t remember this feeling. When memory of her scent fades. Her laugh. That smile. The love he didn’t know he needed.

He doesn’t want to forget.

[rinskiroo]

Pretty, Judgey Boys in Coruscanti Bars

AO3 Link

FFC Prompt: Different First Meeting

“Tarisian tequila.” Two blue fingers tapped the bar followed by the slumping figure of a Twi’lek woman leaning heavily against it.

Theron grimaced from his seat nearby. “Are you trying to kill something?”

“Just the last few days,” came the grim response. A shot glass appeared in front of her and she threw it back without ceremony. She sucked on her teeth and bent her head down towards the bar before tapping her blue fingers again for another and muttered something about limes.

“And yourself?” Theron asked, only slightly concerned for this downcast stranger.

She looked over at him, blood-shot violet eyes and a frown on her pretty face. She glanced at the glass of amber liquid he was nursing and smirked. “Guess my palate isn’t as refined as you city boys.”

“Not if you keep drinking droid lubricant,” Theron said as he took a pleasant sip of his smooth, very fine, Corellian whiskey.

She let out a sort of amused/annoyed scoff and threw back her second shot. This one seemingly more painful than the last. Theron winced in sympathy and pity. She fell into the barstool next to him and tapped her fingers on the bar once more.

“Finally,” she said as the barkeep poured her another shot and set a small bowl of lime wedges next to it. She quickly shoved one between her teeth and made a loud sucking noise. “The limes take away some of the burn,” she mumbled through the green fruit stuck in her teeth.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“So judgey, and we’re not even in the Senate district.” She leaned her elbow on the bar and rested her head in her hand and gave him a look over. A rather intense, uncomfortable look over. “Nice jacket.”

“Uh… thanks.” Theron self-consciously smoothed his hand over the red leather, momentarily wondering if he’d gotten anything on it that warranted the stare-down. If nondescript could be a clothing item, that’s what the Twi’lek was wearing. A white shirt with a black jacket and dark trousers. No outwardly noticeable weapons, not that it was something he was worried about, but it was a part of his brain he couldn’t turn off.

After the third shot, she seemed to wait until the barkeep went off to take care of something else and reached behind the bar to grab the bag of warro nuts and refilled the small bowls left of the bar-top.

“I don’t think—“ Theron started, though there was an amused grin forming on his lips.

“Okay, pretty boy with your fancy hair and your high class whiskey…” Whatever insult she was trying to form died slowly with a wave of her hand, but she held her chin up as she popped a couple of the warro nuts into her mouth.

“You think I’m pretty?” he asked, giving her a certain spy-worn charming smile over the lip of his glass.

It had the desired effect. He watched as a purplish hue started to stain her blue cheeks and she shook her head, looking away from him for a moment. “I think you have a lot to say about what a stranger drinks because this galaxy is a fucking toilet sometimes. But—“ she looked back over to him, momentary blush gone, her violet eyes narrowing on him, “if you’re going to try and flirt with me, you have to give me your name.”

“This isn’t flirting,” he said, that smile still playing on his lips.

She laughed lightly and nodded. She waved the barkeep back and ordered another shot and another of what her new friend was drinking. When the drinks arrived though, she swapped the glasses and took a sip of the whiskey. “This isn’t bad.”

Theron looked down at the clearish liquid in the small glass, debating if any of this was worth it. What even was this? A nice chat with a pretty girl in a bar? He wasn’t really sure if it was all that nice, to be honest.

“Don’t be a pussy.”

Maybe not a nice girl. Theron looked at her, picked up the shot glass, and threw it back. Immediately after accepting her challenge, he regretted it. “That’s foul,” he said, trying to hold back a cough and reached for one of the limes.

She laughed loudly and slapped him on the leg. “Maybe the galaxy isn’t so bad if I can get pretty, judgey boys in Coruscanti bars to drink with me.”

“I’m sure you don’t have any problems getting people to drink with you,” he told her.

“You’d be surprised,” she mumbled as she sipped at her whiskey.

“Theron,” he said and held out his hand to her.

She smiled at him and took his hand gently. “Jas.”

“Lovely to meet you, Jas.”

[rinskiroo]

Neverland

How awful it would be to have to fight your own apprentice. The person you taught, that was almost like your child, your kin. What if Orgus Din had lived and faced the Knight when they were possessed by the Emperor (the first time).

-------

Orgus Din wonders if there’s something wrong with him. Something wrong with the way he has lived his life. Something wrong with how he learned, how he taught. After the Sacking and losing Bengel, he had to step back from teaching. He had gotten too close. Bengel’s loss had hit him too hard.

But Bengel hadn’t died. And Orgus wished he could have been happy for the revelation. That dear boy he had taught, he had become something worse. Something hateful and violent and bent on revenge. Orgus blamed himself, of course, if he had looked harder for his Padawan, never given up… perhaps he could have found him in time to hold him to the Light.

After all that time, he had taken another. Her star shone as Bengel’s once did, but they were as different as night and day. Bengel was gentle and quiet; Jasati was loud and brash. But it was Jasati that had brought Bengel back. She had stayed her blade and offered him a path to healing, to redemption. They were both kind. Both wanting to see the best in people.

So Orgus wondered if the problem laid with him as he stood out in the wastes of Quesh, toxic winds whipping around him. He had lost a second Padawan to the Dark Side.

Read the rest on AO3 (as I got a bit wordy for a tumblr post oops)