#lionthought

too many people rely on me . — @lionthought as 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐀 𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐀 / workaholics

𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐋𝐄𝐈𝐀 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐌𝐄𝐓 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇: the curse of competency. lando memorized a lot of faces. their names, their connections. if there was someone worth knowing — or worth avoiding — lando calrissian had their dossier on the tip of his tongue. not anywhere on his roster was he aware of being who got along with their talent. a curse associates considered a gift; for themselves chiefly. most didn’t consider how much of a burden being good at something was. especially when that natural knack came with the side effect of deciding who lived and who died.

      that was some weight to tally on the shoulders as rotations stretched into cycles. especially shoulders as young as leia’s, daringly capable be damned. she wasn’t a child playing general, but it didn’t escape him that leia came across as a woman who’d never known a day blissfully unaware of politics. shame the organas didn’t live to see how their daughter had risen in the wake of alderaan’s fall.

      the gambler clicked his teeth as he slid into the seat beside her. propping his elbows onto the surface, he folded his hands together, leaning his weight forward. around them was he electronic blips of their colleagues hard at work. even at this late hour, the jungle humidity kept most people up since the base couldn’t afford to spare any power for air conditioning. so into the early morning the rebels labored. pouring over absconded data streams and promise-less leads, darting from room to room as if being hunted by an invisible isb agent. only when their bodies reached that inevitable exhaustion did any of these quiet heroes drag like dractuvian cave slugs to a mist-dampened cot.

      all too easy to realise that many of these dedicated soldiers would never taste the fruits of their efforts.

𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐔𝐃 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄 filtered from the blackened atmosphere into the treacly sea of panna’s red moon. beyond the enormous inflated shield that protected the system’s largest city nothing stirred despite the breezy uptick. no tide nor current, or waves or ripples to speak of. there was a severe lack of phenomenon that contributed to the health of a submerged ecosystem. still, beneath kilometers of starchy stillness, life not only thrived but grew to titanic proportions.

      standing on panna city’s transparent overcoat, the entire city beneath his soles, boba fett surveyed the magenta horizon with an equally motionless obsidian glare. shimmering displays from the towering skyline beneath refracted through the shield’s flexible material, splitting light beams into pale rays of color. too washed out to blind the bounty hunter, the residual light pollution formed a glowing corona that offered a boost of visibility in the dark sea.

      something beyond the reach of the natural eye caught boba’s attention. gripping his rangefinder, the boy leaned forward, the shift in position betraying the slightness of his frame. for a brief pause, only the muffled flap of the bounty hunter’s half-cap broke up the gelid scene. an image swiftly interrupted as the helmet’s protruding scope snapped back to an vertical position.

      ❝ ready? ❞ viewplate framed by scarred vermillion regarded the girl closeby. crowned by curls of amber gold, her face bore a striking similarity to the one rooted in the contoured recesses of the helmet. but on her, the features were softer, colored by an inquisitive innocence long scored from his own. ❝ still got the grub? ❞

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐀𝐒𝐇 chewbacca could still smell them. the kids. buried under the rubble that denied their broken remains a peaceful burial. persistent rushes of aggravated wind whipped the long fronds of chewbacca’s mane into a frenzied tach nest as the wookiee desperate dug through the remains of luke’s humble school.

      spoors of adrenaline and fear lingered on the stones despite the sudden end of those entombed. his sensitive olfactory glands were not only keen enough to scent the traces, but produced a taste on the roof of his maw that burned his throat with residual electricity. stinging moisture sprung from the tender membranes around his eyes, blurring chewbacca’s vision to the point of fueling his frustration. the deeper the wookiee dug, the futile it became. with every shift of stone, the more destabilized the precarious nature of the ruins would become, tumbling more broken sections of temple into his freshly excavated cove.

      he could smell them. all of them. all the young, shattered forms beneath, taken too soon. each individual signature that rose from the rubble to his tentative nose lanced chewbacca’s great heart, unable to dig them free of their improper tomb. a failure compounded by the inadmissible lack of a particular scent, the one chewbacca’s was most desperate to find.

                  where was his nephew?

                        where was his ben?

      luke’s school was reduced to scattered contortions. chewbacca searched them all, following his keen senses along a rapidly deteriorating trail from one to another in a mad search for his loved ones. this was the last. and neither his friend nor his hairless cub were there.

      hope that both still lived bundled anxiety for what other fate befell both jedi. chewbacca rose from his knees, abandoning the heap of devastation to draw himself to his full height. the wookiee breathed deep the acrid air and unleashed a bellow that silenced the howling wind. it carried over the hills, through the bordering trees, frightening the flocks of roosting ossus birds into the desaturated sky.

      chewbacca called for luke skywalker and his apprentice. each howl greater than the last, persisting echoes stacking against the brewing gales. he would’ve continued till he choked on soft tissues of his throat turned raw, blistering his wilting cries scarlet — if not for han.

pull yourself together . we have work to do . — @lionthought as 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐎𝐋𝐎

this will be a day long remembered. it has seen the rebirth of vaderdala, and it will see the decking of boba fett

why does everyone want to talk today? — @lionthought / there’s always a downside.

            ❝ that's how interrogations work, ❞ the hunter chimed unhappily from his perch on the wall. she was looked terribly young, but her eyes cut through the room with a shrewdness only a long-time survivor could bear. but dipping into the profits of a hutt was a brash move for anyone who wanted to see another day.

            ❝ the container, who did you sell it to? this is your last chance, kid. jabba plans on giving you to pateesa — ❞

this is over when i say it’s over. — @lionthought as luke skywalker / there’s always a downside.

            ❝ don't do this! i don't want to fight you. ❞ his blaster felt hot in his hand as if he already discharged the bolt aimed straight between the jedi's eyes. there was no way he would win this fight, din saw what the man had done to the dark troopers, but that day on arvala-7 sealed his fate. there was no force in existence that would deter him from protecting the kid even if that meant getting cauterized into pieces. maybe that would be enough to scare grogu into hiding, to flee on his own . . .

            alone.

            din's grip tightened.

            ❝ you saved the kid and i owe you for that. but he isn't safe here. whatever moff gideon has planned is more dangerous than whatever the dark side is. ❞

            a warmth spread across his leg. din dared a glance down to see grogu clinging to him, dark eyes wide with terror. the boy was a shivering speck in the mando's shadow.

            ❝ i've seen what that ben kid can do, ❞ the mandalorian continued, his voice rippled, contrary to the stalwart iron in his hands, ❝ if the imps come for grogu they'll take him too. you think you're strong enough to keep them both safe, and you might be, but that's not a risk i'm willing to take. so you protect yours — ❞

            again, the man risked another look at the child, and nearly fell to his knees. the boy was looking straight at him and found din's eyes even with the helmet on. grogu gurgled. giant tears jettisoned themselves down his tiny cheeks, staining the boy's robe with wet bruises.