Steff's Thoughts...

From the next chapter of Blackbirds: Year One.

-1

It seemed, with the unexpected addition of Radio Anarchy to the list of 'tentative allies', Llanic might have opened up to them in ways that it likely wouldn't have without quite a long-term stay. Husk was reserving judgment as yet, but he could already see where having them as allies of some type might cut down the time they were needed there.

Husker was the only clone not back on the Nest. Brody had gone back and so had Rabbit and Raze, though the former of them more reluctantly, once the sun was up and shining, on Husk's quiet orders. Something had gone down between Rabbit and Eogan, when they were reunited, but Husk didn't think it was so much his business anyway. Eogan had also stayed with the nautolan -- Jak, no given last name -- and with the few other members who made up the cell of anarchists, including Sal.

The squad's consensus had been that they needed a day of rest; Husk had called in and Castle and Tally had updated him. After letting Tally crawl back into his bunk for some well-deserved and badly needed sleep, Castle and Husk talked a bit longer, discussing a plan of action. Jak had handed over all of Radio Anarchy's intel on CIS operations on the planet, but damned if Husk was just gonna take him at his word, so the idea was that they were going to have to confirm all of it for themselves, which was going to take a couple of weeks (if they were lucky) and rotations of stakeouts and minor operations.

Husker was a bit tired out himself, after all this excitement, so after he and Castle agreed to meet again come nightfall and start going over things with Smarty's help, he crashed for several hours in Sal's flat -- attached to the ops center for the anarchists -- and slept so deep and hard that he didn't shift once before coming back awake, only to find Sal waiting with blue milk biscuits from Biscuit Baron and a massive cup of caf from Starshines.

"Frippin' room service. You got anything else goin' for you, vod?" Husker asked, gruffly, sitting against the headboard.

"Don't give me shit, Husk, I'm the delivery boy," Sal just shot back, setting the carry-out tray down for him on the nightstand with the caf, before turning to get his own food and join him sitting on the bed. "And you ain't offerin' a tip."

Husker snorted back, but he still stretched in place and winced at the cracking of his back before picking the caf up. "I could probably dig out some credits for you, if it means that much to you."

Sal scoffed at him, sitting cross-legged and digging into his very, very late breakfast. "How long you been with this group?"

"That a round-about way askin' how the guys in the 501st are doin?"

"Yeah. I don't want to know more'n the minimum about whatever operation you're involved with right now." Sal gestured with his fork, looking kind of tired, kind of haunted. "The last thing I wanna be accused of is trying to undermine the Republic or some other banthashit."

Husker eyed him at that, face pulling into a scowl, but when Sal just tured his gaze down to his biscuits, his irritation faded.

Husk hadn't been present for Slick's trial; hadn't followed it, either, for a lot of reasons. But it was impossible to escape it entirely, the rumors and information passing between brothers. He remembered, at the time, thinking that the guilty verdict was entirely proper. He never really let himself think about the punishment, the firing squad made up of men who shared his and Slick's face because it wasn't his right to question how their superiors decided to handle crimes like treason and collaboration with the enemy.

But it probably said something -- Husk didn't know what at the time, nor did he like how it was making him feel to think about it now -- that he had been really damned relieved that General Skywalker hadn't been one of the three judges, and had asked for leniency where Slick was concerned.

It also said something that he was sitting here, with a deserter, and the thought of handing Sal over to their leadership wasn't even on the table.

"Tell you what. How about you tell me your story?" Husker said, after a long moment of looking at his brother; a long moment of imagining the loneliness of what it was to be a part of an army of clones, what it was to be surrounded by brothers, only to strike out through fear or anger or desperation into a world where you would always be the odd one out, where you were ill-prepared socially and culturally and in every other way. "I can't promise I won't have my own views on it, but I can promise to listen before I form 'em. Then we can talk about everything else."

Sal looked wary, but also kind of relieved. He sat for whole minutes, and Husk just let him, his fork unmoving; when he finally did speak, there was already a cracked note in his voice as he said, "I didn't want to leave. I just couldn't stay."

It wasn't long before the tears followed.

Day 8
In your own space, post self-recs for at least three fanworks that you created. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.

Adding shadows to the walls of the cave (4154 words) by SLWalker
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul
Additional Tags: Slow Burn, shifting tenses, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence
Series: Part 2 of Witness me
Summary: There was a difference between peace and numbness, he had found over the years, a lesson he kept relearning.

Why I'm reccing it: Because it's the first story I'd written for this pairing (despite having shipped it since 1999.) Because it didn't go the direction I expected it to, and instead on the whole turned out rather kind. And because ultimately, it set up for the stories that come after it. It's also gotten a few people interested in one of my favorite rare pairs, too. XD


Staring into open flame (100515 words) by SLWalker
Chapters: 20/20
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul, Bail Organa & Darth Maul, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Darth Maul, Bail Organa, Vokara Che, Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious
Additional Tags: Surprisingly healthy relationships, Depression, Anxiety, Friendship, Stress, Sass and angst, Euthanasia, Self harm (unintentional), Flashbacks, Mind Rape, suicide ideation, Past Suicide Attempt, Self Loathing, Recovery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, C-PTSD
Series: Part 3 of Witness me
Summary: The Republic has gone to war and the Council is struggling under the fog of a galaxy slowly going dark; in the meantime, Anakin's not the only one bucking rules by having attachments, Obi-Wan wants to get an ex-Sith Lord paroled, and Palpatine arrives at an opportunity to wipe out three problems at once: the planet Zigoola.

And all the better if he can use his former apprentice to do it, too.

Why I'm reccing it: The longest story I've ever written entirely solo and completed. I guess I'm reccing it because it's a hell of a tale and I'm proud of both how I wove it together, and how good my prose was with it. It's a heavy story that doesn't shy away from asking very hard questions of the entire main cast (two, then three), and I'm happy with the way it resolves itself. I finished it in about three, four months. I am at least reasonably sure that there's nothing else like it, in terms of that particular pairing; almost all of the Obi-Wan/Maul fic out there leans very heavily on antagonism and sharp edges (which is fine!), but in SIOF and Witness me as a series, they're very careful with one another. They stumble, they make mistakes, the relationship they built took them years of effort, and you can tell that neither of them have had a genuine, adult relationship before this, but ultimately, instead of being driven by antagonism, they also so clearly want to do their best by each other. I also really loved writing Bail Organa, and discovering that he and Maul dovetail awesomely personality-wise, almost as much as I had fun writing Bail and Obi-Wan butting heads early on, but becoming friends and not bullying and trauma-bonding like they did in the novel this plot was yoikned from. Anyway, this is one story where I didn't shy away from writing action or heartbreak, where I didn't body-swerve allowing my characters their very vulnerable moments, and I'm hella proud of it. And the climax is absolutely one of the best I've ever written. (And it doesn't hurt that I got a bunch of people who never shipped Obi/Maul to ship it, too. And a bunch more to look at Maul in a completely new light, while maintaining his core characterization.)


Blackbirds: Year One (223959 words) by SLWalker
Chapters: 57/?
Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul, Bail Organa & Darth Maul, Shiv/Dani Faygan (brief)
Characters: Darth Maul, Shiv, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Bail Organa, Tango (Blackbird), Ahsoka Tano, Brody (Blackbird), Castle (Blackbird), Misty (Blackbird), EL-10 | Elten, Tally (Blackbird), Raze (Blackbird), Husker (Blackbird), Smarty (Blackbird), Six | Rabbit (Blackbird), Eight | Rancor (Blackbird), Anakin Skywalker (Cameo), Alpha-17 (cameo), Kix (cameo), Dani Faygan (cameo), Plo Koon (cameo), Taliesin Croft (cameo), Breha Organa (cameo), Shaak Ti (cameo), Eogan Truax, Sergeant Slick (mentioned)
Additional Tags: Humor, Friendship, Surprisingly healthy relationships, Espionage, Camping, Fluff, Claustrophobia, Panic Attacks, trust building, relationship building, Body Horror, Anxiety, Dealing With Loss, Grieving, Personal Growth, Consequences, Introspection, Survivor Guilt, C-PTSD, sociology - Freeform, Kidnapping, Slavery, implications of sexual assault, Hurt/Comfort, Whump, Violence, In-Universe Fandom, Pining
Series: Part 5 of Witness me
Summary: Eleven clones, one half-zabrak and all of the inherent chaos one might expect when you stick those things together. Maul gets his own squad of clones.

Or maybe the clones get him.

Why I'm reccing it: The next big story after SIOF, but very different in tone. The Obi/Maul is very background, and most of the story centers on Maul and the Blackbirds. I wrote Blackbirds to be able to stand solo enough; you'd miss a lot of what made Maul capable of taking the role he does in Blackbirds if you skip SIOF, but you can absolutely still read it as a standalone. Anyway, in brief, Obi-Wan springs a squad on Maul, eleven clones that got drafted because, in theory, they would be able to 1.) work covert ops and think more independently and 2.) handle having Maul as a lieutenant, though there are other reasons they were picked, as well. Maul, of course, does not see himself as anywhere near suited for leadership (and he's not entirely wrong!), but he's immediately, rather helplessly charmed by them, and there can be no doubt he cares -- a lot -- even before they go on their first training run.

What I love about writing it is that the Blackbirds are very much their own people; they don't exist just to prop up the canon cast. They're all specialists, or could be; they all have unique voices, thoughts, feelings, ideas, loyalties. And that the relationships they have with each other and with Maul are very mutual; this isn't yet another case where the clones provide all the emotional support and receive none back, or where the adoration flows in one direction. It's a story that doesn't shy away from the fact that these men are, essentially, slaves. I could spend hours talking about each one of them, their opinions on their situation, everything, just because they are whole people unto themselves and I love them all a hell of a lot. Every one of them gets a chance to shine. Their domestic moments are given due weight, as are their big ones. This one's unfinished, but I have no intentions of dropping it, and usually manage to update it around once a week.

Day 5

In your own space, promote three communities, challenges, blogs, pages, Twitters, Tumblrs or platforms and explain why you love them. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.

all_maul - Well, first I'm gonna rec the community I made and mod, if only because I'm proud of it and because I do believe it's gonna grow and become a great off-tumblr home for creative content about the most famous zabrak hybrid in Star Wars. So far, we have a diverse group of people reading, joined or adding content and I'd love to see more. The comm is 18+, so NSFW work is allowed, though obviously that's not the only thing there is. There's also an anon prompt meme, too! And links to resources!

gar_hq - Here's another Star Wars comm, this one not mine, that I'd love to see get more attention. The clones in TCW were undeniably amazing and tragic characters, and any place where they get to feature is definitely an up.

ds_noticeboard - Even though I'm not in due South fandom anymore, the Noticeboard is one of the best places to go when you're looking for older content, and to announce new content. I've spent hours there looking through entries and finding stuff to read and enjoy.

Day 1

In your own space, talk about your Happy Place—the things that give you joy, calms you or keeps you sane. Leave a comment in this post saying you did it. Include a link to your post if you feel comfortable doing so.

I might be an odd-one out in answering this the way I do, but my place of employment. I can definitely say that it's the first time I could ever really say that and mean it. I loved my job at the library, but mostly because it was quiet and I was left alone to do my thing, and because I loved -- and still love -- the man who was my boss, Dale; he was exactly the kind of man I wish my own father could have been, a blue-collar former steelworker who lost everything when Copperweld went down and then became maintenance supervisor for the library. Where my dad paid a lot of lipservice to kindness, Dale kind of embodied it, and I would still crawl across hot coals to help him if he needed it.

I loved the library because it was quiet.

The mill is everything the opposite.

It's dirty and loud and covered in people; it smells like smoke and ozone and hot steel and burned leather gloves and grease. I work production-side, so I scrub bathrooms and the occasional foreman's office, and the breakroom. I do a good job cleaning, but there's no state of grace or perfection working there; the floors are wrecked and paint is peeling and there's no white-gloving that place ever. Tons of steel move overhead on the big cranes that run the length of it, pipe or coil, and tons of steel move through it. The steelworkers themselves are loud and half-crazy and kvetch like it's their job. I wear a hardhat and steel-toed workboots and ear plugs.

The very first time I walked in there, the smell of it hit me like a ton of bricks: Instantly, I felt at home. I'd never been in a mill, though I grew up in the shadow of one, but it grabbed me instantly, the familiarity of it, some primal core of iron and fire I didn't even know I had in me.

I had grown up surrounded in printing presses and printer's ink and paper; even now, I miss the smell of it. But walking into the mill still felt like coming home. I've never loved any place of employment like I love this one.

I'm not an outgoing person; at least, I never used to be. But I smiled and waved and remembered names as I worked, and the steelworkers slowly folded me right into the place. It didn't happen all at once, but it happened inevitably. I'd never worked anywhere so dirty, blue-collar in my life, despite being raised blue-collar, and the amount of respect I was given -- as if I was every bit as valuable as they were -- was gratifying. I became crew lead quickly; I've built a giant number of relationships. I've chased someone with a mop. I've been to the union Christmas party. I've been dragged to Christmas dinner. I have injokes, outjokes and hugs whenever I open my arms. I've stood on the line learning how they do their jobs; hell, I've surreptitiously helped do their jobs (even when it wasn't technically allowed, but a surprising number of people love teaching there, in their own gruff, proud way), to the point where I can read the monitors and grab red-hot scarf off of the spindle. I don't even work for the same company -- I'm subcontracted -- but I work there. I've been headhunted, no kidding, by half the plant; this year, I think I'll apply when entry level opens, even if the work is much longer and more grinding than my current job. I'm out and proud there, and not one of these gruff, half-crazy blue-collar dudes has ever blinked or acted bigoted.

It's not that I love scrubbing toilets. Or mopping floors. Or any of that. Cleaning is employment. It's that I love the place, the people, the work they do. It's in their kindness and their response to my kindness. I'm one of a bunch of half-crazy people, and no one's really better-than or lesser-than, we're all just there doing our jobs. It's why I can go in when the windchill is 40 below and why I keep going back when the inside of the plant is an actual oven, and why I do little extra things -- like donuts on my anniversary, or hot chocolate for Christmas -- with joy, both for doing them, and for their delight in someone caring so much.

It's because when I'm anxious -- PTSD is awful sometimes -- and feel like I'm at the end of my rope, I can pull on my hardhat and boots and know that between the labor and the steelworkers, I'll be okay within an hour. Because sometimes, the beauty of it all -- people, steel, fire -- almost hurts to look at.

I never expected to end up where I have, but somehow -- growing up here, in the shadow of a mill -- it also feels like it should have always been, that I would end up in one.

Anyway, below the cut are some pictures. Hope you love 'em as much as I do.

( Smoke and steel )