#I barely draw him but actually quite like Cody

[curiphynn]

A bit distracted 👁️👁️

[crispyjenkins]

anon prompt fill

alright so! lost the ask this prompt was for because tumblr fecked up, so i’m incredibly sorry if this was yours  😭  veered from the prompt somewhat, but when don’t i. i hope you like the changes!!! (ღ˘◡ ˘ღ)

  Ahsoka doesn’t recognise him, when they first find him; his signature is unmistakable, Ahsoka would know it in a coma and half Force-blind, yet the young face that stares back at her and Cody is one she hasn’t seen even in holos of her grandmaster from before the War.

  But that light in the Force is unmistakably Obi-Wan Kenobi.

  With Master Anakin on probation in the Temple for killing Raako Hardeen and Cad Bane (she refuses to think it was in cold blood, but was... was revenge actually better?), Cody had been the one to accompany her and the 501st to investigate a tiny cloaked complex near Naboo that was rumored to belong to Count Dooku. And maybe Cody knows something she doesn’t about her Grandmaster’s past, because that same pained recognition is on his own face — or maybe he really is Force sensitive the way Anakin always jokes.

  Force, Obi-Wan isn’t even wearing robes, instead dressed in a grey tunic and soft pants that look an exact copy of the red ones worn by the clones on Kamino, and Ahsoka almost drops her gaze, feeling as if she’s caught him in his undergarments.

  “... General?” Cody asks softly at her side, voice raw and betrayed, but this... Not–Obi-Wan just blinks at him.

  “Oh, no, not me,” the thing wearing her Grandmaster’s face says with a Serennian accent, smiling apologetically. “I’m afraid he hasn’t been by in quite some time.”

  Ahsoka exchanges a quick look with Cody before stepping through the doorway properly, Not–Obi-Wan sitting on an assortment of vermilion cushions that are the only splash of colour in the entire room of washed-out greys and stark whites. He simply watches her approach, an actual flimsi book laid across his lap in a language that Ahsoka doesn’t know, but it isn’t until she’s halfway across the room that she starts to see little differences between this boy and her grandmaster. A mole a little too far to the left, brown eyes a little darker than they should be, lower lip a little too full.

  When she doesn’t say anything, he frowns suspiciously. “You are here to see General Grievous, yes?”

  Ahsoka feels her heart freeze in her chest, as Cody makes a strangled sound she’s never heard from him before. 

  It draws Not–Obi-Wan’s gaze back to the commander, and he raises one dark brow. “I was not aware my grandfather kept any of Fett’s clones for himself.”

  Cody sputters, hand twitching towards one of the blasters at his hip, but Ahsoka knows he would never actually shoot Master Obi-Wan — if this even is Master Obi-Wan. Just to be safe, she sidesteps to put herself between the two of them, and holds up one hand placatingly. “Your grandfather?” she asks carefully, but the Force assures her she already knows the answer. “I didn’t realise Count Dooku had any living family still.”

  Surprisingly, he snorts, and jerks a hand around the barren room. “If you call this living.”

  She blinks. “You’re trapped here?”

  “I honestly don’t even know what planet I’m on.” He says it like it means nothing, like it’s a given fact that he has no control over, and Ahsoka has to stop herself from punching the nearest wall.

  Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, Ahsoka glances back at Cody, whose expression has shifted to forcibly-blank. “What’s your name?” she asks, desperately wishing Master Anakin were here, that Master Obi-Wan were here. The Force does not lie to her, but she had also held her grandmaster as he died, in her arms, and the impossibility of this... man, barely older than she is, having the same signature that she had felt as it snuffed out is...

  “I’m not entirely sure,” that man says, with a tiny, forced smile. “General Grievous calls me Kenobi, and Lady Ventress calls me Little Jedi, but my grandfather calls me Yan.”

  After the briefest of pauses, the air positively suffocating with confusion and horror and disgust, Cody slams his helmet back on and whirls out of the room, and the bulkhead-style door clangs shut behind him.

  Yan doesn’t seem surprised by his outburst, lips pressed together in a thin line as he stares after him for a moment before dragging his eyes back to Ahsoka. “I am quite sure I have never met either of you, yet you both still seem to know me,” he remarks softly, one thumb fidgeting with the edge of the pages of his book.

  “I...” Ahsoka starts, but doesn’t know what she had planned to say. “I, um, how old are you, Yan?”

  If he is surprised by this either, he doesn’t show it. “I believe I am 19 Serenno years old, but as I have not seen a Galactic calendar since I was a child, I cannot be sure.”

  Deeply disturbed, she goes on, “What did you mean by your grandfather ‘keeping’ one of Fett’s clones?”

  “I was under the impression he only picked the template because his master wanted Fett,” Yan offers, deceptively-clever eyes watching her reaction closely, “So it would surprise me if he chose to keep one around.”

  If Yan is telling the truth, if it was Dooku that commissioned the clones, that means... that means Count Dooku and Darth Tyranus are one in the same. Force, Ahsoka doesn’t even know where to start on all the implications of that, and a small part of her is relieved that this is important enough that she will be handing it off to someone much older and wiser than her as soon as possible.

  Not that she would remove herself from the case completely, not when Yan is observing her with eyes Ahsoka had watched go dim. 

  Tipping his head to the side, Yan’s gaze intensifies, hand twitching over his book. “You are not allies of my grandfather.”

  Ahsoka inhales slowly. There’s no way she can lie to him — hopefully Cody is still just outside in case she needs backup. “No.”

  “He didn’t keep a Fett clone around, your companion is part of the GAR.”

  “He is.”

  Yan contemplates that for another minute, and he doesn’t seem angry, but Ahsoka isn’t sure if she would be able to tell even if he did. When the silence stretches into a tension Ahsoka wouldn’t be able to cut even with her ’saber, Yan nods to himself.

  Then his face splits into a smile, a grin she’d seen dozens of times right before her grandmaster would throw himself into an especially-reckless plan that he shouldn’t survive but somehow still did. Yan locks his eyes with hers with a ferocity that holds her firmer than gravity.

  His smile widens. “You wanna help me break the kriff out of here?”

.

[zinzinina]

We all know about order 66 at this point but I’ve just reached the end of tcw (it’s taken me a while to get through all 7 seasons) and I am very much not ok 😭😭😭

Idk if you’re currently taking requests (if not pls ignore) but if you are… *rattling empty bowl like a pitiful victorian orphan* can u spare a Drabble where the clones actually live happily ever after?

Ohhh hi lovely anon! There is absolutely no way to prepare for the amount of pain at the end of TCW 💔 I hope you had plenty of tissues handy.

And I'm not really taking requests at the moment, but I thought this was such a sweet idea and you just so happened to catch me in the mood for something like this, so I hope you enjoy this very teeny tiny slice of post-war life! x

Approx. 500 words, mentions of Codywan, mentions of food.

Rex is trying very hard not to say anything.

He’s trying so hard, in fact, he’s missed most of the conversation, and tunes back in mid-sentence.

“…and then I said, if they want an interview, it’ll cost extra. My schedule’s packed; I’m making another address in Monument Square with Senator Organa, a very important one, for the anniversary of the clone emancipation act, and then I’ve got a nightclub opening to go to, and then…”

Echo is bending to pull another ardees from the chiller. Rex can’t see his face, but he can see his shoulders shaking with barely-suppressed laughter as Fives continues talking, totally oblivious. Jesse, on the other hand, looks thoroughly unimpressed, arms folded atop the table.

“…and it’s hard, y’know, when everyone wants a piece of you. Which is what I told her, when I said it wouldn’t work out.”

Echo adopts a tone of faux-innocence, sliding a fresh bottle across the table. “Huh. That’s funny. Tup said he heard from Waxer, who was talking to Kix, who heard from Thorn that she broke it off with you.”

Fives huffs. “Well Thorn’s full of shit. It was mutual.”

“So not everyone wants a piece of you, then,” Jesse says drily.

Rex is thinking mournfully of the side of namba in the chiller. He’d been planning to roast it tonight with herbs and wine. He was going to put on some music while he cooked. He likes cooking with music; something he’s learned about himself since retiring from active service. It was going to be a nice, quiet evening. Relaxing.

And then Fives had shown up, completely unannounced, with a bag over his shoulder, asking to crash on his sofa, telling him he’d already called the boys to come by, and that he’d meant to bring a little thank-you gift for Rex for letting him stay but it had just slipped his mind, and is that a new rug? Very nice, and...

Fives sounds airily indignant. “Not everyone can handle the level of public adoration I have to deal with. When it’s the whole galaxy—“

“Yeah right, you saved the whole galaxy,” Echo says, rolling his eyes. “And I’m the king of Hosnian Prime.”

Still breathing calmly, Rex smooths his hands up over his hair; no longer quite so severely short, beginning to flick into tight curls at the grown-out-bleached ends. He is absolutely calm.

Fives takes a sip of his ardees, then puts the bottle back down on the table. Right beside the coaster.

Rex takes in one last slow, deep breath, mentally counts to five, and then barks his next words more sharply than any order he’s ever delivered on or off the battlefield.

“Fives. You’re not staying here. Cody has a spare room; go bother him. And get your feet off my table, or Maker help me—”

Fives blanches, his mouth dropping open in horror. “Not Cody! Rex, vod, I can’t—you can’t! Do you know how loud they are? Kenobi leaves the door open when he’s in the ‘fresher! They have drawings of each other! Not just in the bedroom, but in the hallway—“

Echo and Jesse’s snorts drown out the rest of Fives’ protests.

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding X

Star Wars Time Travel AU #27

Part I - - - - - Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV - - - - - Part V - - -  - - Part VI - - - - - Part VII - - - - - Part VIII - - - - - Part IX

“I realize this is incredibly difficult,” the Nautolan Soul Healer said calmly. “But in order for us to help Obi-Wan, we need to determine the cause of his current disconnection with reality. Based on the drug panel, and convenient surveillance, we have, to the best of our ability, ruled out temporary psychosis brought on by a drug interaction.”

Cody stiffened further, not sure how to react to anything anymore. When a brother tried to end his own life, it was usually obvious why.

Sife Aerdo continued on. “There have, of course, been cases of Jedi Seers giveing into their fears of the future, or losing their sense of reality, but every case study involving such an extreme reaction was the result a gradual degradation over the course of many years. Nevertheless, it seems clear that Obi-Wan experienced a vision, and it may have impacted his breakdown to some extent. The more we know, the more successful any attempts to convince him of reality will be.”

Bant furrowed her brow in thought, trying to replay three decades of increasingly vague discussions of nightmares.

”Considering the high profile nature of his position, we cannot rule out some kind of psychological attack, perhaps even a darksider incursion.

Anakin leaned forward intently, the inside of his skull buzzing with white noise.

"All that being said, we must be prepared to treat Obi-Wan’s self harm as the  culmination of a long and quiet mental health struggle. He would not be the first in the Order to disguise such a thing with durasteel self-discipline.”

At that, Bant and Mace took a moment to release their feelings to the force, while Anakin raised his shields defensively.

Master Aerdo finally hesitated, before continuing in the same smooth tone. “I would ordinarily prefer to structure this kind of conversation quite differently- allow Obi-Wan time to share his feelings first and invite you each separately to support him in the healing process. But he’s gone from fighting sedatives and force compulsions as though the fate of the galaxy depended on it, to a self-induced coma. All while barely lucid, yet still somehow maintaining Master Class mental shielding. We need to get a better understanding of his mental landscape if we’re going to even begin the process of treatment."

It is necessary to note that everyone in that room had led, in one way or another, a somewhat miserable life. This was the main reason none of them could claim that the next five hours were the worst they had ever experienced. 

“But he’s always had terrible sleeping habits.” Anakin said hoarsely.

“Yes, but I think they got worse after Qui-Gon passed,” Bant argued, not sure what point she was making. 

“When I pointed out he couldn’t be getting more than three hours a night he told me that he could manage on meditation” Cody offered irritably.

“That’s technically true,” Mace confirmed. “If the Master in question is well-balanced otherwise”

“So its like his eating habits, crushing responsibilities, and repeated exposure to violence, then? Completely fine for a Jedi, in less it’s not, in which case it’s a major red flag?” 

“I think it would help to establish a timeline.“

Aerdo actually dredged up old mission reports, leading to the group reluctantly contacting Ashoka for her memories of Mortis.

At her Master’s insistence, she told them everything she remembered, hazy as it was, nervously elaborating on her own memories of falling. To her confusion, Master Windu all but brushed past that, assuring her that the important thing with stepping into darkness was the choice to the return to the light. Anakin bizarrely agreed with Windu. Out loud. Unnerved by the cooperation more than anything, she put her holographic foot down and demanded to know what was going on. 

Anakin took the comm-link into a separate room to speak privately.

Upon return, he informed the group (with a visibly red and puffy face) that Kit would be escorting her back from Mount Cala cleanup early, daring anyone to disagree. Windu nodded and the conversation continued on.

Together they rewatched holo-footage of Obi-Wan laughing amongst Ghost company the night before last, and debated reports from psychometric investigators who had scoured the cantina as well as Obi-Wan’s personal quarters for traces of illicit substances. Between that and another drug panel, they were finally forced to conclude that despite the timing, the alcohol at most confused Obi-Wan’s perception of a vision, or possibly simply loosened his tongue.

Bant prodded Cody to repeat every word from the holocar ride to the temple, taking furious notes. Cody was unable to stop the heat that crawled up his face.

Just when the looming horror of Obi-Wan actually preparing to intentionally die started to break over Anakin, Windu interjected.

“You don’t see what I do,” the Harun Kal said grimly. “Something galaxy-sized shattered around Obi-Wan and he didn’t break from it. The closest comparison I have is Master Yaddle’s presence when she meditated on her confinement. He’s chosen to keep going, even when, quite frankly, death would be a release. We’re missing something fundamental.”

“He said there were ‘other dark forces at work.’ Even if the fight was objectively hopeless... there’s no way he would choose to die because of it!” Anakin agreed vehemently, shaking off morbid fears.

“But he did choose to die.” Cody said quietly. And the wind went out of Anakin’s sails.

“Lets go back.”

Anakin gritted his teeth as they picked apart everything ‘unusual’ Obi-Wan had said and done leading up to his visit with Bant.

“What exactly did he...”

“So Plo Koon was able to get a read through his shields?”

“Did he have anything to eat?”

“How did that compare to...”

“When he's mentioned things in the future...did it seem good or bad to you?” Bant asked.

“Bad.” Cody and Anakin said in unison. Remembering the trip to the temple Cody spoke again, “Definitely bad.”

“Right. When we were talking he sometimes used the wrong tenses for things, people. I confronted him on not knowing ‘when’ he was after Knight Skywalker left. He told me that he knew what was real, but he was “enjoying not fully living in the moment” he also said that he intended to “wake up”

“Enjoying? That’s the exact word he used?” Cody asked incredulous. 

“He did seem...mostly happy yesterday. Giddy, at points.” Anakin said, slumping in on himself.

Bant looked at her notes once more before addressing the group.

“This isn’t vision psychosis in any manner I’ve heard of before...but I think I might have a theory. He used to have intense visions when we were kids; plenty of us did sometimes, but Obi-Wan would be unable to sleep after. What terrified him more than anything was the uncertainty that he might make the wrong choice- even when the vision was about something good, or neutral. His visions gradually stopped coming around puberty. We just had a conversation about this a few months ago- how relieved he was to only have to manage flashes of precognition. If he had a random, horrifying vision of a terrible future...suicide wouldn’t be his reaction. It’s too final.”

“Even if he blamed himself for what he saw coming?” Mace asked.

“Especially if he blamed himself.” Bant said. 

“What’s your theory?” Aerdo prodded.

“What if...what if he was telling the truth when he said he could separate out what was real and what was not? What if there was no distortion or blurring between now and then? What if he was just wrong about which was which?”

“That...would be a very extreme and abnormal manifestation of force-induced psychosis. He has training in distinguishing reality from visions. The continued presence of his mental shielding means that the fabric of his mind can’t be so horrifically collapsed in on itself.” 

“What if the vision was actually that realistic?” Bant said, pushing back against the soul healer. “So detailed and vivid that it effectively was a reality in itself, and everything else, all of us...”

“Were just memories” Anakin finished. “It would...actually explain pretty much everything. You said he wanted to wake up and when...when I found him.” He stopped, swallowing. “When I found him, he argued with me...what if he wasn’t trying to hurt himself? If you’re right...that would mean I found him trying to get back to reality.”

“It could explain his behavior in the halls...his desperation to wake...” Sife mused “But it runs counter to every other experience I’ve had with those managing prophetic visions. Master Windu, could that explain the shatterpoints you saw?”

“I’m not certain. It would have to have been extraordinarily real to create the echos of Shattering I witnessed. I don’t know if that depth of vision has occurred before, but then again, many things are possible in the force.”

“You really think he might have been...trying to wake up from dream? By killing himself?!” Cody asked incredulous.

“If that ends up being what happened I am going to give him such shit. That is the worst way to end a vision.” Anakin replied.

“Yes. It is.” Bant said pointedly. “That’s why it’s a last resort, after every other attempt to wake fails.” 

They all sat in silence, processing various implications. Cody was unnerved by another terrifying insight into force powers, as well as the idea that the General might vividly remember Cody being inexplicably mind-controlled into trying to kill him. Anakin was trying to understand what this would mean for them, and the conversations he had thought they had had. Did...any of it count, if he thought he was offering it to a hallucination?

“Alright, this is a valuable working idea, but let’s make sure to examine everything with an open mind before we draw any more conclusions. Anakin, what happened after you left the healers office?”

Obi-Wan’s critique of the practicalities of visiting a soul healer could be and was interpreted multiple ways. The incongruity of peacekeepers in war sparked a rehash of earlier discussion. More apologies. Self identifying as ‘crazy’ inspired new debate, especially in the context of the new theory. 

“When I saw him enter the fountain room I assumed he had had a brutal run-in with  dark force user.” Windu explained. “Based on everything we’ve gone over, I don’t understand when...but some of the more insidious sith compulsions work by taking whatever small anger or hurt you feel and magnifying them until they consume you. If Obi-Wan was already experiencing self loathing...”

Cody sucked in a breath. “Then a Sith mind suggestion would bring him to commit suicide. It...sounds like something he might do, if he was partially in control. Take the blow rather than let himself be used as a weapon against anyone else, even his worst enemy.”

“Hells, it could have been an even vaguer compulsion, driving him to attack the person he hates the most,” Bant added darkly.

Anakin buried his head in his hands, trying to hold it together. He couldn’t afford to lose control or get angry. Hells, getting angry at Obi-Wan for ‘failing him’ when in pain could be the reason Obi-Wan was currently in the healing halls. The man said he loved him unconditionally, then practically had a breakdown over how much Anakin pushed that unconditional love to the breaking point, then killed himself. How was he supposed to-

“Anakin? Are you alright to continue?” someone said.

“Yes. No. There’s more I have to tell you...I don’t know if it will help but - it was hurting Obi-Wan...I...”

“Let’s just take it one step at a time. What happened after you left Mace?”

Apparently even Cody somehow knew more about Bruck Chun than Anakin. Master Windu and Eerin told different sides of the same sad story, which spiraled back into a conversation about Obi-Wan’s inadequacy issues, which somehow devolved into a long rant about Qui-Gon Jinn that Master Windu had apparently been holding back for years. 

“My apologies.” He said afterwards, clearing his throat as the group stared, taken aback. “Old grievances. Go on Anakin, what did happened after you got to the ‘secret spot.’”

“He...was skirting around whatever was bothering him...I pushed him...told him I wanted to help...he said I couldn’t...because it was me...because of what I...”

Anakin stood up suddenly, feeling the walls of the room closing in.

“I’m sorry- I’m sorry I-” 

He ran out.

He turned around almost immediately, pacing in the small corridor, knowing he couldn’t leave, simply needing a minute to catch his breath.

Master Windu followed him out after a moment, not saying anything, just standing there. Watching him.

“What!” Anakin finally snapped. “What do you have to say that I don’t know already!”

“Knight Skywalker-”

“Don’t call me that! I DON’T DESERVE-” 

Anakin let out a frustrated snarl, punching a wall. The crumble of stone beneath this fist briefly made him feel better, but then he remembered Obi-Wan’s heartbroken expression in the light of an underworldly glow, and the tiny, choked sound he heard when the healers moved him and Anakin just...collapsed, falling to his knees.

Master Windu sank down gracefully beside him.

“Anakin. This isn’t about attachment issues, is it.”

“Not really, no. I mean, maybe you’ll blame attachment but it’s more about...”

“Anger.”

Anakin looked up at that, trying to regain the meditative calm he had felt for a glimmering moment yesterday, right in-between making peace in the cave and everything burning to ash. 

“You know that I have had my own struggles with anger. It is how and why I came to develop Vaapad.” 

“Yes, but you’ve Mastered your anger. And you’ve never...never given in to hate.”

A beat passed and Windu watched some of Skywalker’s familiar breaking points flicker into view. 

“You’ve done something. Something you know the Jedi won’t forgive.”

“Obi-Wan forgave me.” Anakin said, whispering. “He said that even though I couldn’t fix what I did he loved me anyway and I just needed to...to honestly regret what I did and not do it again. I told him I’d get rid of my lightsaber and I meant it and...I thought he forgave me. I was ready to go to the Council with him, come clean about everything. And then I left him alone to get dinner and when I came back...he was holding my lightsaber. My lightsaber.” 

Anakin buried his face in his hands, shuddering with creeping cold.

“I’m not going to critique your and Obi-Wan’s attachment to each other right now. I’m well aware that much of the order has turned to personal ties to maintain their stability given the ongoing horrors of war. I am, for many reasons, wary of the risks this brings us, yet it is also true that risks do not automatically mean failure. I myself have mastered my emotions in a different manner than conventional wisdom councils.” 

Windu spoke carefully. For all that he and Anakin had similar relationships with the force, they rarely saw eye to eye on any given subject. At a certain point, Mace had accepted that the volatile young man was determined to find the worst possible interpretation for anything he said. And Mace was not the order’s most patient diplomat.

“As for your crime, whatever it is, l will tell you this: Unless you choose to renounce the code and leave our number, you will be treated as a Jedi Knight, subject to our protections, as well as our judgement. You will receive appropriate mental counseling. If you are judged to be a danger to those around you, your actions will be curtailed and monitored, possibly through temporary confinement.  The Jedi do not believe in punitive measures for their own sake, but you may be required to provide restitution to those you harmed, perhaps indefinitely. 

Silence hung perilously between them. Windu watched a tremor run through the unfathomable kaleidoscopic of shatterpoints that had orbited Skywalker since he was a boy. A small one broke inward, and an attached tangle of larger, darker ones fell away, crumbling to dust. The rest faded from view, invisible for the moment. A choice had been made, some decision that closed off at least one path to the darkside.

“There’s no one to make restitutions to.”

“...You’re going to have to elaborate on that.”

“Let’s go back inside- I don’t want to do this twice.”

They returned to the increasingly hated meeting room.

Anakin spoke in an outpouring of words about love and hate, about misplaced revenge and now uncertain forgiveness. When he finally finished, the room was deathly silent.

The three Jedi sat quietly while Cody pinched the bridge of his nose. “I guess this is why Jedi have the no attachment rule, huh? I admit I never really got it, but I suppose even if I-”

Bant abruptly lunged up, fumbling to bring her lightsaber to Anakin’s neck. Everyone jumped to their feet, except for Anakin, who stared at Bant with a wretched expression.

“MASTER EERIN! This is not-”

“Did you do it?” she asked, ignoring the Master of the Order.

“Bant!”

“It was my first thought after I saw him. We all rushed in expecting a fight, or a bomb, only to find you, insane, and him with a hole next to his heart. I didn’t want to believe it of course, but you’ve always had a violent streak that Obi-Wan, force help him, couldn’t quite soothe away. A fight gone wrong. Master Windu said it was suicide, and I believed him, and I’ve been trying to make sense of that ever since. But Mace found you after, didn’t he? After you felt guilty? Did you think he was going to turn on you?”

“Bant Eerin, you are dangerously-”

“No.” Anakin whispered.

“Obviously I might be why. But I didn’t- I couldn’t. I know I’m not good but I can’t even imagine- holding a saber against him like that. Kriff, do you not get how much I can’t handle losing people I love? I was insane when you saw me because I saw someone trying to kill Obi-Wan and I couldn’t even fight them.”  

Bant held his gaze for several lingering seconds, deactivated her saber and dropping it with a clatter. They stared at each other, breathing heavily and not blinking. She returned to her seat, moving jerkily. “I apologize Knight Skywalker. That was uncalled for.” 

“I wish I could say I wouldn’t have done the same thing in your shoes” he responded lowly. Bant made a tiny, unintelligible noise in reply. 

Cody collapsed back into his chair, holstering his blaster.  “Alright then...so after you finished sitting in the fountain room...what happened next?”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?”

“You’re handling Anakin’s confession somewhat dispassionately. We’re simply surprised.” Mace said slowly, returning to his seat at the same time as Master Aerdo fell into theirs.

Cody shifted uncomfortably. “The vod were trained in a wide range of enemy suppression tactics. While we’re extremely glad the Jedi have never asked us to employ them, I’m not...unfamiliar with this scale of deliberate slaughter. At least in the hypothetical, sir.”

“I see.” Aerdo said. “That is a valuable insight to have, thank you. Knight Skywalker-”

“Just...call me Anakin. Or Skywalker.”

“Anakin. When did this happen?”

“About two years ago, immediately before the First Battle of Geonosis.”

“And have you had any similar experiences with giving into the darkside since?” they asked placidly.

“I don’t think so but...we went to war the next day and....I don’t know if I’ve stopped fighting since it- since I did what I did.”

“Hmm. Anakin, would you mind stepping outside the room and waiting in the corridor for a moment please?” 

He bit his tongue, tasting blood, and quietly walked out the door while the Masters decided his fate. He leaned back against a wall, desperately wanting to see Padme. 

To his surprise, the door opened barely a few minutes later, and he was politely invited back in.

“Anakin.” Master Windu spoke. “Thank you for telling us this. It’s an important insight into Obi-Wan’s feelings right now, and I recognize that you could have kept it a secret. As Head of the Order, and with the advice of a Senior Soul Healer, I have made a decision. You will be assigned a personal soul healer, who you will start seeing tomorrow. Commander Cody pointed out that over nearly two years of continuous warfare, you have maintained some of the the lowest trooper casualty units of any division, by a significant margin if we evaluate based on mission risk level. Your civilian and enemy casualties will be reviewed, but even considering constant war, since your massacre of the Tuskens, you have clearly managed to at least... direct your violence away from the innocent. We do not consider you a threat to the inhabitants of the world. For the time being, I see no real benefit to limiting or tracking your behavior within the temple or on planet, but you are barred from leaving orbit. I have decided to delay a full reckoning before the council until such time that your former Master is well enough to provide his own opinion. Give me just cause, and I will have you confined to a force-suppressing cell. Do you understand?”

Anakin nodded, bowing in acknowledgment. All things considered, it was...honestly better than he expected.

“Now, as Cody” Windu paused. “My apologies, as the Commander was saying-” 

“Cody’s fine, sir” Cody said, wrung out in a way different from anything Kamino had trained him for.

“...I think we can all consider ourselves on a first name basis at this point.” Bant said with a snort. She paused. “That includes you Anakin. I really don’t know how to handle what you did but kark it, I don’t want to hate you. For myself.”

Everyone nodded.

“As Cody was saying, what happened next?”

Peace. Comfort. Hunger. A warning in the force...

-

“I tried to pull the saber back but his finger was already on the igniter...” 

“You probably saved his life. Even a second later-”

“I know, that’s almost the worst part.”

-

“-his neck”

“Why would he change weapons?”

“What if-”

-

“He said what to you and Healer Che?”

“That has to support the detailed vision idea, think about-”

“I’m sorry, Emperor?”

-

“I think we’re done.”

Anakin stared blankly at Sife. “But we didn’t figure anything out.”

“Not conclusively, but we’re unlikely to make any more progress, you’ve given me enough information to preform a meaningful meditative scan, or guide a conversation, should Obi-Wan wake, or navigate through his mind, should we decide to make a more decisive attempt at his shields.”

“Master Aerdo... I leave the final judgement up to you, but I strongly urge you to make a more decisive attempt. I am more convinced now than I was...” Mace glanced at the chronometer “five hours ago that this was motivated by a specific, external stimuli, likely dark. Do you disagree?”

“No.” they said with a sigh. “But I don’t want to underestimate how much underlying factors might have contributed to his response to stimuli, including underlying factors that none of you were aware of.”

The Nautolan Soul Healer stood up, tucking their hands into their sleeves to address the room with classical Jedi serenity. It was a little irritating.

“In any case, we all need to sleep, eat, and meditate. Master Eerin, you have the rest of the day off, I've cleared it with Master Che already. Master Windu, I leave the final judgement up to you, and I am aware that your duties as Master of the Order are unceasing, but I urge you to take some time to center yourself before returning to the council. Commander Cody, I would be more than willing to arrange soul healing for you or any of the Vod, please let me know. Anakin, you will receive a comm later today with further details on your future healing sessions. 

They bowed low, then glided out the door.

Bant stood next, bowed individually to each soul, and sped walked out.

Commander Cody cleared his throat awkwardly, “Mace- what should I tell the troops? We’re supposed to have command briefings later tonight.”

“If anyone asks about General Kenobi, tell them its classified.” I’ll schedule a briefing on the subject. Now go find Captain Rex and take care of yourself, that’s an order.”

Cody saluted, first to the high General, then to Anakin.

Finally it was just Mace and Anakin.

“Is there anyone who you trust who I can call to stay with you.” Master Windu asked.

“I can manage on my own” Anakin replied, not willing to give the Master of the Order anything else he could use against him, even after everything.

Master Windu held back a sigh.

He continued once more, making a deliberate attempt to soften his tone. “Anakin- I know we’ve had our differences, but this is not a trick, nor a trap. You’ve suffered a series of great shocks in the last 24 hours and handled them with immense maturity. I myself am struggling to deal with the emotional fallout.”

Anakin looked up at that, surprised. He didn’t seem to be struggling, but maybe that was what made him a good Jedi Master...

“As I told you before, I am not going to begrudge you the comfort of attachment. I’m rather convinced it would do you more harm than good at this point. I don’t want you flying right now, and you don’t have to be alone. I hope we have come to a better understanding today, but I doubt my presence is suddenly a comfort, though please correct me if I’m wrong. Now is there someone I can call?”

-

Padme ended her call with Master Windu extremely discomfited. She had barely heard from Anakin since he ran out on her the night before last to take care of an apparently extremely drunk Obi-Wan. He had messaged her a few times that night, promising to make it up to her, but had been comm-silent since. She had been starting to get worried, and now the Master of the Order was asking her to pick him up from the temple. Fortunately, she had already cleared most of her meetings for the week well in advance (Courascant leave usually meant THEM time, not that she was jealous of Obi-Wan, of course).

The speeder ride back from the temple was silent. All Anakin would say was that he would explain everything once they were in ‘a secure location.’ 

The door to the apartment had scarcely closed behind them when Anakin fell into her arms, shaking.

“Anakin, talk to me love, what’s wrong?” She gently guided him to the couch, arranging him so she could hold him protectively.

“Obi-Wan tried to kill himself.”

She let out a harsh gasp, “No! He can’t have, he would never-” 

“I got to him in time, but Padme... he was holding a lightsaber to his heart. It was...really close” He burrowed deeper into the folds of her dress, and she gripped him fiercely.

“Oh gods, is he-”

“He’s physically healing, but he’s still...not all there. I spent all of today locked in a room, trying to figure out if it was a Sith Attack, or an insane vision, or..or me”

“Anakin! What do you mean ‘me’ - Obi-Wan loves you, you-”

“I know.” Anakin interrupted her again, knowing he was being unfair; he was just too exhausted to be patient.

“He told me loved me. He...he...found out about what I did to the Tusken village, You should have seen his face, Padme, he was horrified, but he still told me he loved me, and he was willing to forgive me, even though he shouldn’t”

“Of course he forgave you,” Padme whispered. “You’re not a monster, Anakin, I know you would never do something like that again.”

"And then after we talked, I left him alone and he-” Anakin choked out into her dress.

Tears ran down her face, heart breaking. “That’s- that’s horrible. Anakin...it must have have been a attack, Obi-Wan wouldn’t do that.” she said urgently.

He pulled away, horrified. “I made you cry. I made Obi-Wan cry too. I’m sorry- Padme please, promise me you won’t-”

She grabbed the sides of his head. 

Her nails bit into the soft skin behind his ears as she pulled him down so they were face-to-face, vowing, “Never. I swear by the force itself, I will never choose death over life.”

He let out a relieved sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

“Now you,” she demanded

“As long as I have anyone to live for, I swear by the force, I will never choose death over life.”

She pulled him the rest of the way in for a bruising kiss. He lifted her, and they desperately clung at one another as he carried her to bed. They continued like that, clinging and grasping, until exhaustion carried him to sleep. She pulled the covers over top them both and curled around him defensively as the day slowly faded away.

Part XI

[alderaani]

more than gold

summary:  A lost Jedi Temple, a riddle, some literature, and feelings that Cody isn't ready to speak out loud. | AO3

note: written for @codywanweek and the alt day 5 prompt Sith/Jedi Artefact Shenanigans! sliding in on the last day with one more thing written than expected, so i’m happy with that! i’m pretty ill today so i hope it actually makes some coherent sense 😂 also if the riddle was super obvious, soz, never written one before and turns out it’s really hard.

-

“You know, I could have sworn I told you not to touch that,” Cody says conversationally, from where he’s splayed out on his back.

“Really? I’m sure I didn’t hear you,” Obi-Wan says, cheerful despite being crumpled in a heap. His elbow is in Cody’s gut. Cody glares at him.

The room they’re lying in is circular, stone, carved out of some Forced-damned mountain and according to Obi-wan, practically thrumming with power. The ceiling is high and vaulted, letting in slivers of light where intricate mirror systems catch the sunlight of double suns and project it deep underground. It takes on a slightly blue cast, reflecting off the huge pool of water they were lucky to not fall into. Four walkways at each cardinal point lead to a central platform, and interspersed between them are four waterfalls.

It should be serene. Except now the waterfalls are travelling backwards, and all the doors, including the one they came in by, are blocked. Cody scrambles up onto his elbows, dislodging Obi-Wan with a grunt.

“What did you do?”

Obi-Wan follows his gaze and gasps, delighted. “Now, will you look at that?”

Cody is looking. Frankly, he doesn’t trust this place enough to not keep his eye on it at all times. Obi-Wan keeps saying that this temple was built long ago, by ancient, peaceful Jedi as a place of learning, and that it won’t hurt them. After they got cut off from the rest of their men at the entrance, however, Cody thinks he could be forgiven for having his doubts.

As Obi-Wan himself proves, peace-keeping hardly rules out danger.

“Amazing,” Obi-Wan breathes, hoisting himself to his feet without a second glance, to walk back up to the plinth and stalk round it, examining the incomprehensible runes engraved there.

Cody is left to peel himself off the floor, and instead goes to prod at the barriers now sealing the exits with the end of his blaster. He tries not to look too much at Obi-Wan, at the soft sweep of his hair and the span of his shoulders. Being on their own like this is something he’s avoided, of late - not because he doesn’t enjoy it, but because he’s starting to enjoy it all too much.

He doesn’t trust the way his heart leaps when Obi-Wan smiles, when he asks him to call him ‘Obi-Wan’, when the cycle draws on and they’re up late again, companionably finishing reports and debating strategy. Or, as they had been doing until Cody got cold feet and started finding excuses, debating novels, which Obi-Wan checked out of the Temple archives and read aloud, one chapter at a time, before they turned in for the night.

He doesn’t trust himself not to ruin this by overstepping. There’s something about his general that makes him lose all control of his tongue, and puts him in danger of voicing thoughts that really he should not be having at all.

It’s agony. It’s bliss. It’s stretching him to breaking point, and this is possibly the worst situation they could have ended up in, really.

“These are made out of water,” he says over his shoulder, grunting as he tries to push his blaster through. He is, of course, unsuccessful.

“Ingenious,” Obi-Wan says. “How did they manage that, I wonder?”

Cody cuts a glance back at him, and grins, despite his exasperation.

“You’re not more worried about how we’re going to get out?”

Obi-Wan waves a hand. “I’m sure the path will reveal itself, in time. Oh, look - Cody, I think this is a puzzle!”

Cody bites back a groan. They do not have time for this. They never really had time for it, but Obi-Wan promised it would be a brief detour on their way to the capital for hyperspace lane access negotiations. He’d looked so excited by recon reports of a lost temple that Cody just hadn’t been able to say no. He’s never able to say no to Obi-Wan, even when he isn’t following orders. It’s probably his fatal flaw.

“I don’t suppose there’s an off switch? A back button?” He asks hopelessly. The Force, at least the Jedi sort, very rarely seems to work that way. Obi-Wan is always talking about moving through problems, about seeking balance and adapting to what’s around you, rather than manipulating it. It’s not Cody’s favoured approach; he was trained to leverage his environment to its maximum advantage, and finds he has little patience for anything else.

Obi-Wan snorts. “This is a defensive mechanism, I’m afraid. Judging by the architecture this was built at the height of the Sith Wars. This artefact is designed to trap us here until we understand the mechanism and progress, or until, back when the temple was occupied, someone would come and deal with the intruder.”

“That doesn’t sound very peaceful,” Cody says.

Obi-Wan shoots him an amused look, the warm, soft kind that makes heat rise from the pit of Cody’s belly right up to his ears.

“Even a pacifist may defend himself,” he says, then leans over the pedestal. “Now, how about you stop grousing and come help me with this?”

Cody rolls his eyes, but goes, slinging his blaster across his back and crossing his arms.

“And stop looming,” Obi-Wan laughs, catching one of Cody’s gloved hands and pulling it down to rest at his side. The simple touch makes Cody’s cheeks burn.

“Don’t see what help I can give you, Sir,” he says, frowning down at the characters surrounding the bright blue artefact. “I was never any good at Ithorian.”

Obi-Wan pauses, then tilts his head up. “Ah. Is that what it is?”

“I - I think so?” Cody was never any good at his language flashtraining; he never had the proper patience for it, but he can usually figure out the basics.

“No, no,” Obi-Wan muses, stroking at his beard with his free hand. “You’re quite right. Goodness me, it's been a long time since I last saw this dialect. Let’s see now…”

Cody steps back and waits, keeping his attention firmly split between their blocked exit points while Obi-Wan ponders. The slow upward movement of the waterfalls is eerie - it still makes noise, but none of it is right. Instead of the gentle patter he expects of water joining a larger pool, there’s a faint gurgling as they move further into each grate, travelling somewhere he cannot see.

Obi-Wan finishes his fifth circle round the platform, and the hand at his chin goes still. Cody stands at attention, expectant.

“It’s a riddle,” Obi-Wan says, and if possible, his delight grows. “Yes - the language is coming back to me now. Do you know, I haven’t looked at Ithorian in maybe 12 years?”

“Sir?” Cody says, tilting his head to look at the characters more closely. He doesn’t have even a passing proficiency at modern Ithorian, and presumably it’s changed a bit over the millennia. His training was focused on the basics, and only the useful bits, at that. He thinks he can make out the words for ‘ water ’, and ‘ enemy’ , both of which are either unhelpfully descriptive or frankly discouraging, but that’s about the extent of it.

“My old master - he loved prophecies. When I was a teenager I could never see the point of it, but it meant I spent a lot of time learning the old Ithorian dialects. They’re known as the most peaceful species, did you know?” Obi-Wan shakes his head. “They’ll exile anyone violent, it’s quite remarkable, really. I suppose in some sort of idealistic emulation, a lot of the early Jedi texts are written in their dialect.”

His blue eyes are keen, his laser sharp focus firmly on the podium. It gives Cody a moment to observe his clever fingers, the long line of his neck, the open delight with which he tackles this new problem. It’s a rare thing, to see him so relaxed, and Cody can’t help the fond smile that creeps up on him despite the circumstances. This almost makes it worth it, and on reflection, he’d rather an ancient temple than the last thing that had made Obi-Wan so happy; a wretched, bioluminescent fungus, which had infected half the battalion and given them hives. Their general had studied it for weeks.

Obi-Wan’s lips quirk up. Cody barely trusts himself to speak.

“I didn’t know, Sir,” Cody croaks, then pauses, fishing for something normal to say. “Didn’t we have to defend the governor’s daughter from an Ithorian bounty hunter on Ganaris-IV?”

“Well,” Obi-Wan grins. “Those exiles have to go somewhere, don’t they?”

Cody huffs a laugh and reaches up to scratch his neck at the seam of his bucket.

“Let’s just hope they didn’t all come here. What’s this riddle, then?”

Obi-Wan shifts to the side, then points at a spot on the podium. “As I said, it’s been a long time, but I think it starts here, and goes something like:

A thing to be forged, where water is thicker,

Worth more than gold, unless it’s pyrite that glitters.

An enemy of my enemy, or in hard times, in need,

Sometimes fair-weather, or in high places indeed.

What are you, traveller? ”

All of Cody’s hopes that it would be something nice and obvious, like “lightsaber” or, given what’s going on around them, “gravity”, escape from him like smoke. Jedi and their metaphors. It’s not just a quirk of Obi-Wan’s, clearly.

“Does that mean anything to you, Sir?” he asks, turning the words over in his head once, twice, then frowning when nothing comes immediately.

Obi-Wan’s brow is also furrowed, but in a leisurely, meditative manner.

“...I have some ideas, I think,” he says. “How about you, my friend?”

What does he think? He thinks that there are other sorts of puzzles he is much better suited to. Word play and idioms...what does a clone have to offer that?

Still, Obi-Wan is watching him, expectant and gentle, and he sifts back through the lines, a little more seriously this time.

“Ice, maybe?”

Obi-Wan nods, slowly. “Perhaps. Walk me through it.”

Cody swallows. “Ice is something that can be made, right? It’s not exactly forged, but…”

He trails off in uncertainty.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan says with another one of those soft, devastating smiles. It fractures all the thoughts in Cody’s head, and he has to stop, clear his throat and gather up all the pieces.

“I suppose...it’s just thicker water, isn’t it? On warm planets it’s a valuable commodity, it’s found in high places, and I suppose if you wanted snow, a freeze would be fair weather.”

Obi-Wan is rubbing his beard again, and he’s still smiling. “Fascinating. I would never have thought of that...only, I don’t think it’s quite there. That mention of pyrite is troublesome, and the ‘enemy of my enemy’, where does that fit in?”

Cody shrugs his shoulders, frustrated, and feels a hot flush creep up his neck. “Don’t know why you’re asking me, to be honest, Sir. Kamino hardly covered poetry.”

There’s a slight pause, then Obi-Wan’s hand is on his again, tugging it slowly down from where he’s crossed his arms.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” he says, soft.

“Do what?” Cody’s voice is gruff.

“Dismiss yourself. You do it sometimes when we’re reading together. There is often no right and wrong answer to these things, no secret. There is only perspective, and you see things I never would, if only you would trust yourself.”

Cody looks down and away, back towards the waterfalls and their slow, glacial climb. He isn’t sure that’s true. He enjoys what Obi-Wan shares with him, what other lives he gets to touch in their books, but more than anything they convince him that, beyond war, he knows very little of anything at all. He would like to, someday.

His eyes land on Obi-Wan’s lips briefly, before he tears them away. Particular experiences he would like to know more than others.

There was one book that Obi-Wan had read early on, back when this infatuation was just setting its first tendrils into him, about a forbidden romance at the heart of the old Mandalorian court. Two heirs of rival clans battling to be together against the good approval of their noble relatives. It had been torrid, ridiculous and entirely unexpected when Obi-Wan had suggested they break up their reports with some literature.

But what it had done was give him the words to express the crawling heat in his stomach, the urge he has to reach out, to touch, to soothe, to care for. He’d known what he wanted before that, of course, in a more rudimentary manner, but it had gifted him the language of yearning.

Suddenly, a particular passage springs into his mind and he straightens.

“You don’t think it could mean ally, do you? In Beneath the Armour, Mata threatens Clan Riza by saying he has ‘allies in high places’.”

Obi-Wan pauses, and then a brilliant smile spreads over his face. “Yes, that’s it! Pyrite - Fool’s Gold; a false friend! Brilliant Cody, whatever made you think of that?”

Cody grins, even though Obi-Wan can’t see it, and doesn’t answer.

“Is that really it?”

“I think you’re very close,” Obi-Wan says. “The characters engraved into the platform...yes! Stand close to me, Commander.”

Cody does, watching curiously as Obi-Wan lifts his hands, shuts his eyes, frowns, and pushes . Six blocks that make up the platform lift, the characters on each glowing bright, lurid blue. Under their feet, something scrapes, shifts and clunks, before the platform lurches upwards, spinning gently.

There’s a thunderous gurgling sound, before all of the pool beneath drains away.

“The answer,” Obi-Wan says, slightly breathless, his hair a little out of place. “Was friend.”

“The doorways are still blocked,” Cody notes drily. The plinth with the blue orb that started this whole mess has also risen, and underneath it are a set of very wet, slimy looking steps. “I don’t suppose it’s as simple as just walking down these and getting in?”

“Likely not,” Obi-Wan agrees, then inexplicably shifts a little closer, so that they are sharing space. Cody’s heart skips a beat. “But it’s like I told you, Cody. You are far greater than what you have been given.”

Cody coughs and looks at his feet, at their boots almost toe to toe, pleasure at the praise singing low through his body.

“Now,” Obi-Wan says, too close and not close enough. “How do you feel about another puzzle?”

Cody groans, laughing, and after a moment, follows his General into the dark.

[dracoqueen22]

For Kn1ght: I have transformers prompt for rescue bots. so all vehicle modes have instincts. Ambulances are panicky, cause everything is emergency. Police car like to hunt and chase and herd other vehicles.  firetruck have this urge to drink lots of water where ever they find it...etc.  hoping for some funny odd ball moments where each frame type sorta acts on their instinctive natures.

Basic Instinct

Blades has never had an alt-mode capable of flight in his entire functioning. 

He’s usually something wheeled, staying safe on solid ground, so he’s familiar with all of the quirks and eccentricities that come with transforming to a ground-based form. 

He’s used to seeing Chase when he gets focused on a criminal, and won’t stop hunting until he’s captured the misbehaving mech. He doesn’t cycle his optics twice when Heatwave can’t pass by a body of water without sampling the contents or topping off his tank. He barely notices when Boulder sees a building in need of demolishing and instantly starts talking about how he’d destroy it if they’d let him, and sometimes, Heatwave needing to pull him back and stop him from doing it himself. 

Blades used to all of it, as much as he’s used to the lingering sense of urgency usually wired straight into his lines, but has dulled the longer he’s kept out of his four-wheeled emergency vehicle alt-mode. 

In fact, it’s not until he opens one of his lockers at the base and a near torrent of random knick knacks come pouring out that Blades thinks maybe, maybe this is something he’s going to have to get used to. 

He stares at the baubles and trinkets and shiny bits flood out and pool around his feet. He recognizes each and every item -- bag of marbles, bag of colorful dice, bag of fish bowl stones, bag of fake plastic crystals. 

Lots of bags of shiny things. 

He remembers collecting them. He doesn’t remember why he collected them. It was just a thing he did. He saw them. He had to have them. He had this idea that they would be perfect for his collection. 

Blades has never collected things before. 

“You’d better clean all that up,” Heatwave says before he grunts and strikes the practice dummy again, making it wobble and rattle before defiantly enduring the assault. 

“I didn’t realize there was so much of it,” Blades says as he scoops an armful of the stuff and tries to shove it back into the locker. 

Predictably, half his armful comes tumbling back out. 

“Why do I have so much of it?” Blades cries, tugging on his finials. “Why am I collecting this stuff?” 

“Oh. You’ve never been an aerial before,” Boulder says as he turns away from his painting, a smear of bright pink on his cheek. He’s been trying to draw a flamingo for two weeks. Blades is not sure why he wants to paint a flamingo. “They collect things.” 

Blades scoops up another armful and one of the bags of marbles splits open, spilling the glass spheres all over the floor in a loud, noisy rain. “What?” he squawks. 

Boulder shrugs. “It’s a thing they do.” He waggles his paintbrush at Blades, splattering pink everywhere. “It’s why we keep having to steal back our mesh cloths from your room.” 

“You don’t actually need a blanket, dumbaft,” Heatwave grunts with an open-palmed smack to the practice dummy. “And I swear to Primus that if you start singing--”

“Why is Blades going to sing, and why is it a problem?” Chase asks as emerges from his quarters with a book tucked under his arm. “I find Blades’ vocals quite pleasant.” 

“Because if he’s singing, he’s trying to court,” Boulder says. 

Chase lights up. “Ah, yes. Of course.” He never breaks stride toward the elevator. “It would be an honor to be on the receiving end of your courtship song. Carry on then.” 

A bag of aquarium rocks slides out of Blades’ grip and clunks back to the floor. “Why does everyone know more about this than me?” he wails. 

“There’s an extra crate in the storage room,” Boulder says as he turns back to his painting and squints at the blob of pink. “That’s probably a better place to store your collection.” 

“If Cody slips on one of those marbles and hurts himself, you’ll be on night shift for a week,” Heatwave warns with a double-tap to the training dummy and then a high-kick. 

This is so unfair. 

“I miss my wheels,” Blades sighs, and he wanders off to the storage room to find that crate. If this is going to be a thing that keeps happening, he might as well get prepared for it. 

Especially since he’s pretty sure Dani has a beautiful collection of shiny rocks. 

***

[glimmerglanger]

Mer!AU prompt--Cody mentioned the difference in their refractory periods in chapter six of C+T. Any chance Obi-Wan is gonna notice as well and do something about it? :D?

OHOHOHO! Obi-Wan is very considerate that way. (Spoilers: he does something about it).

This little snippet is VERY spicy. Not safe for wizards. Happy married folks really, uh, enjoying their relationship.

~~~~~~~~~~

Obi-Wan spent time considering the many differences between humans and merfolk as time passed. So many of them were obvious. Others were… less so. There were some he only got to explore when Cody was with him, when they could get close to one another, tangle together.

Learning the things that Cody liked was, very much, a pleasing endeavor. Learning the things that he would have expected from a lover of his own kind took more time, partially because it meant unlearning so much Obi-Wan had grown up accepting.

But Obi-Wan knew how to adapt and very much enjoyed learning everything possible about Cody. And so he learned that Cody wanted his touch to continue, even after orgasm raced through him. He wanted to be touched all through the aftershocks and - and beyond, ideally.

Obi-Wan picked up other information - here and there - in his new home, about different species that lived in the water. He assumed, after some reading, that perhaps the merfolk also had an actual bone in their cocks. 

It would explain a lot. Including Cody’s ability to...keep going, past the point when a human would have grown soft and over-sensitive.

Still, Cody never pushed for them to continue longer, never continued touching when Obi-Wan grabbed his hand to still him, though Obi-Wan’s reactions to orgasm must have seemed odd to him. He simply….accepted what they had, and, the one time Obi-Wan broached the subject of their couplings being, well, less than satisfying, he’d seemed genuinely befuddled.

He’d proceeded to demonstrate exactly how satisfying he found their joining, and Obi-Wan knew he’d made enough noise to carry through the water, based solely on the looks he got from his guards the next day.

So, Cody had no….complaints about their love-making. But that did not stop Obi-Wan from wanting to give him, well. Something closer to what he expected. What he was used to. At least occasionally. Obi-Wan considered his options for making such a thing happen while Cody was away, handling things in Sundari.

By the time Cody returned, he had a plan. 

Cody ever and always enjoyed having Obi-Wan’s mouth on him, and happily collapsed back against their low bed as Obi-Wan bent over him, barely exchanging initial greetings. Obi-Wan felt impatient under his skin, keyed up with desire, which was not quite his intent.

He needed to hold off his own release as long as possible, to make any of this tenable, and so he ignored the ache of his cock, sliding his mouth further down, instead. Cody panted out his name, hand brushing back over his hair, his skin tasting of salt.

Obi-Wan enjoyed the feel of each ridge sliding over his bottom lip, over and over again, enjoyed the way Cody swore, muscle tensing in his stomach and his fin. They had been apart for nearly two weeks. Obi-Wan knew it would not take long, not the first time, and slid his mouth further down, swallowing, nose brushing scales and--

Cody groaned out a warning, tugging just a little on Obi-Wan’s hair, and Obi-Wan hummed reassuringly around his cock. The vibration must have been just enough to toss Cody over the edge; he arched, cock twitching, pulsing against the top of Obi-Wan’s tongue.

Obi-Wan stayed where he was as long as possible, his eyes watering, his throat aching. He could hold his breath quite a long time, which - he’d found - had uses besides swimming. He stroked Cody’s side, breath held in his chest, and Cody rocked sinuously up off of the bed, slow rolls of his body, working his cock in Obi-Wan’s throat, the ache of it deep and sweet and--

And Obi-Wan eventually had to slide up, sucking in a breath through his nose and resisting the urge to cough, even as another wave of come spilled into his mouth, this time.

He swallowed it, the tip of Cody’s cock between his lips, keeping him there until Cody panted out, “Fuck, Obi-Wan, come here,” and grabbed at him, pulling him up to kiss him, slick with the wet smeared all over Obi-Wan’s mouth.

Cody rubbed at his cheeks, groaning against his mouth, the hard line of his cock pressed against Obi-Wan’s thigh, where Obi-Wan had intentionally tossed a leg across him. Cody reached down, fingers sliding over Obi-Wan’s stomach, and Obi-Wan caught his wrist, tugging to the side.

“What?” Cody asked, drawing back enough to blink at him. “I want to--”

“Not yet,” Obi-Wan cut in, with a smile that felt half-wild. He’d never get to what he wanted to do if Cody started touching him. He’d get distracted, overwhelmed with pleasure. That could wait, at least for a little.

“But--” Cody started, and cut off when Obi-Wan shifted, straddling him properly, scales so cool against the insides of his thighs, Cody spread out under him, the purple light pouring off of his skin lighting up the otherwise dark room around them. 

Obi-Wan ground against him, just for a moment, sending a shiver of want down his own back, leaving it pooling in his gut. It was so tempting to just continue the movement, and it had been two weeks for him, too. 

He had the brief thought that he should have - perhaps - waited to attempt this until Cody had been back a few days, until they’d burned out some of their initial wants. But he’d been impatient. And so he ignored his own aching cock, sitting up a little straighter and reaching for the oil he’d set to the side.

“I missed you,” he panted out, slicking his fingers and sliding his hand down over Cody’s cock, already wet from his mouth and throat. He ached with how much he wanted, and with the preparations he’d done, earlier.

He’d left himself so close to coming, earlier, when he was getting ready for this, stretching himself out, hoping to make himself less on edge once Cody actually arrived.

Things hadn’t quite worked out that way, but… “I miss you with every breath,” Cody told him, “hold on, I can help,” he started, sliding a hand over Obi-Wan’s hip, around to his ass, and he’d been very pleased with himself for filing down two of his nails, last time he’d visited.

Obi-Wan couldn’t think of the feeling of Cody’s fingers inside of him - only to the second knuckle, because the webbing got in the way after that - or he’d spill before they even got started. He bit his bottom lip, made a ragged sound, and sank down, hoping to distract himself.

The stretch of Cody’s cock was distracting, but it did absolutely nothing to slow down the blazing rush of want in his spine. Cody made a thick, hungry sound, both hands on Obi-Wan’s hips now, squeezing as he rasped out, “You--fuck--you got ready? Ready for me?”

“I was knowing you were going to be here,” Obi-Wan managed to answer, a smile on his mouth as he considered the hunger in Cody’s expression, wondering why Cody seemed to like that information so much. “I did not wanting to wait.”

Cody’s eyes were so wide and so dark as he panted out, “I won’t make you wait, then,” and arched up, driving his cock the rest of the way inside, Obi-Wan crying out at the feel of him, half-falling forward, catching himself on his hands. 

Cody no longer had to worry about hurting his stomach or agitating wounds when they were together. He moved beneath Obi-Wan, and it took Obi-Wan a dizzy moment to even think about meeting his movements.

First, he had to reach a hand down and squeeze the base of his cock, because just the feel of it after so long….

“You’re not stroking yourself,” Cody said, ragged, his gaze down by Obi-Wan’s cock, by his unmoving hand, and Obi-Wan jerked out a nod, unable to find words at the moment. “I’ll help you,” Cody added, sliding a hand over, and Obi-Wan made a rough sound.

“Not yet,” he managed to pant out, wrestling for control and managing some measure of it after a moment. Cody blinked up at him, expression questioning, and Obi-Wan added, “I want. To wait. A while longer.”

Cody opened his mouth and shut it again on a groan when Obi-Wan felt controlled enough to rise up, to sink down on him, and, oh, he felt so good. 

At least, in this position, Obi-Wan could avoid direct stimulation of his prostate. But it was still so good, having Cody in him after so long denied. He was so painfully aware of his aching cock, of the need, and he could feel himself losing his rhythm, distracted and wanting and--

And it was not much of a surprise when Cody wrapped an arm around him and rolled them, rasping, “Let me, I’ve got you,” and oh, changing the angle and fucking into him. Obi-Wan groaned, wordless as Cody hooked an arm under one of his knees, hitching his leg up.

Obi-Wan had meant not to come yet. He really had, but the position dragged his cock against Cody’s stomach, and Cody drove into him so perfectly, and it had been too long, and he spilled with a ragged cry, scrambling for a grip at Cody’s shoulders and arms.

Cody hesitated, breathing hard above him, and Obi-Wan dug his free heel against Cody’s back, panting out, “Keep--keep going, it’s, keep--”

It was, apparently, all the motivation Cody needed. He rocked into motion, fucking Obi-Wan through it, mucles shifting and clenching under Obi-Wan’s hands until he cried out, as well, curling forward and coming in long, hot pulses and Obi-Wan felt them.

He’d gotten used to the way Cody rolled against him, after an orgasm. Even sensitive, he loved that slow movement, the knowledge that he could make Cody feel so good. He felt his breathing even out as Cody nuzzled against his hair, still all lit up, casting shadows on the walls around them.

Cody brushed a kiss to his mouth, long moments later, and shifted to slide out of him, murmuring, “Let me get you some--”

“Stay,” Obi-Wan panted, tugging on Cody’s arm even as he rolled. He wanted to - to see if he could wear Cody out, properly. But his hips protested the idea of trying another round on his back. He vaguely considered that he should have cleaned the come off of his stomach before smearing it all over the sheets, but it was too late to fix that now. He glanced over his shoulder and said, “Come here.”

Cody stared at him, looked down his body and then up again, eyes unfathomably dark. He said, “But… I know you’re tired.”

“Not that tired,” Obi-Wan assured him, and slid one knee a little out to the side, which was, he knew, a bit of a dirty trick.

Cody was ever so fascinated with the way he could bend and stretch his legs. And, sure enough, it had Cody sliding a hand up the back of his thigh, rolling a little closer, asking, “Should I hold you, then?”

“You should fucking me, then,” Obi-Wan told him, and Cody made a thick sound. After all, Obi-Wan wasn’t that sensitive, not yet. His plan was still manageable, and--

Cody slid against him, between his legs, settling close and all the thoughts fled Obi-Wan’s head as Cody asked, “You’re sure?”

“Come on,” Obi-Wan said, in answer, tilting his hips up, and then swore, thready, when Cody pushed forward, into him, all at once, he was already so slick and stretched and--

And Obi-Wan felt himself getting hard again, the situation getting more pressing when Cody worked a hand under him, gripping his cock, stroking in time with each thrust, panting against his shoulders, and--

Obi-Wan’s second orgasm left him shaking, face pressed against the sheets while Cody kept going, mouthing at the back of his neck, leaving his skin aching in anticipation. Obi-Wan managed to twist an arm up and back, to twist fingers into Cody’s hair, tugging him closer.

Cody bit him almost right by his neck, teeth sinking in at the end of his orgasm, when he felt most sensitive, and he cried out, blindingly aware of each slide of Cody’s cock, of each shift of his teeth, or his weight and warmth and light.

Cody blanketed him and came with a sound that was muffled against Obi-Wan’s skin.

And Obi-Wan managed to say, through the daze, before Cody could get any ideas about pulling out and getting him water, about tending to the bite, “Again.”

Cody made a ragged noise and rocked into him more purposefully, and it was--so much. Too much and at the same time not enough, as though there were some plateau in Obi-Wan’s head that he’d never reached before, and each too-much touch was driving him closer to it.

He squirmed, couldn’t stop himself, heard a whine in his throat as Cody kept his teeth set just so. There was no room for thought, for anything really. He was just his blood and his nerves and sensation, striving to see, exactly, how much he could take.

[danger-xylophones]

Major Buir (Plo Koon x reader)

{masterlist}

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: Unedited, Plo Koon trying to flirt but not quite understanding how to make the swoon, Wolffe being the embarrassed son, potential second hand embarrassment for the reader because I think that Plo is very sweet but is not well versed in the art of flirting. Clones being dumb and cute. Angry Wolffe, potential fluff overload-I got a little carried away. 

Notes: Yeeee it’s my first time writing for Plo-would it be wrong to tag?...I’m gonna do it. @a-dorin , I would like to thank you for inspiring me to write this. I find myself steadily becoming a Plo simp and your fics have only accelerated my downward spiral. 

Also, this was only supposed to be about 1.5k words...woops

……………………………………

“From this, we can conclude that the remnants of the Ehterium cluster supernova would provide a suitable route around this Separatist controlled rat’s nest.” You sniffed carefully and lowered the pointer to tap against the ground but it landed on your foot. Swiftly, you moved it again so it actually tapped against the durasteel floor of the briefing room. A few chuckles slipped from the gathered cloned men and Jedi generals currently scanning over your notes on the holomap that had witnessed the little slip-up. “Though I can understand the hesitance-which is why I have also taken the liberty of charting a different course around the cluster entirely. It would take much longer though and would put you in more danger in the long run as you’d be exposed and out of range for too...long.” You trailed off, suddenly self-conscious of the overuse of the word ‘long’. Even though you’d worked for the GAR since the start of the clone wars (and technically before that if you counted all the academy training) you’d never gotten the hang of the ‘intimidating analytics and tactician officer’ schtick despite trying. You were often compared to a little mouse in the academy-even when you were wielding a blaster. But that hardly mattered when you were one of the top tacticians in the army and the Jedi were very kind to you. Especially General Plo Koon. He was incredibly patient with you as you adjusted to life with the 104th after being transferred from the 205th and he gave off this very warm and loving vibe. 

And thankfully your new general was among the Jedi present-calmly looking at you with hands clasped behind his back, respectfully silent as the other masters muttered over the maps you’d provided. You met his eyes uncertainly. While it wasn’t like this was your first time pitching a new tactic to a general it was the first time you’d ever pitched an idea to so many people (eight, to be exact) that were so high ranking. The room was currently occupied by yourself, Depa Billaba, Obi Wan Kenobi, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, Commander Wolffe, and Plo Koon and while none of them were ever rude to you it was hard to not be intimidated. You weren’t the one that had to go through with this plan-they did. They were the ones in danger. Sure, you could lose your job but they could lose their lives. So, you looked to Plo Koon as he would be sure to tell you what he thought. 

Perhaps he was so open with you because he could read you better than anyone else? He always knew what you were thinking and knew exactly what to say to help you. If you were honest, it was no wonder why you two were fast friends. And it wasn’t a surprise when you realized that certain feelings had crept up on you. Although you had resigned yourself to never act on them for both of your sakes there was no helping the admiration that prompted you to value the Kel Dor’s opinion over anyone else’s. And just like so many times before, it seemed like Plo knew this for he offered a single nod to you when your eyes met. The tension fled from your shoulders instantly as a silent sigh of relief slipped from you. Plo Koon approved. You had done good. He knew how hard you had worked on the new plans and could cite several instances where he had stumbled upon you slumped over your desk as the testimony to your dedication. Each time the Kel Dor quietly lifted you to your feet and encouraged you to leave the work for the next day as he escorted you back to your quarters. Once the two of you got there, he’d always, always place a secure hand on your shoulder with a squeeze that just barely made his talons dig into your greys as he bid you goodnight before sweeping away with one last order to get some sleep tossed over his shoulder. It was similar small gestures like those that gave you hope that were your situations different-he being a normal citizen like you and not a Jedi with no trace of war-that maybe something could happen. But alas…

“I must say, Major, I do believe you’ve outdone yourself.” Kenobi was the first among the Jedi to speak with one hand clasping his chin and the other clasping his elbow in typical Obi Wan fashion as he scanned over the details once more. 

You dipped your head with a carefully practiced, “thank you, General” as your immediate reply though deep inside, your pride swelled. This was possibly your most ambitious plan yet and one that had presented significant challenges. While you were a good tactician, your strong suits lie in terrestrial combat and not space. It felt great to be validated. 

“Yes but…” Depa Billaba began with her arms dutifully crossed over her chest as she scrutinized further, “what are we to do about this asteroid field that cuts through our path?” The Jedi asked calmly and you brightened at the mention of it because you had banged your head against it every which way. The asteroid field was the one thing you couldn’t accurately account for as the data you had received on it initially had been outdated. And you explained as much to her. 

“However, I am happy to tell you that I may have found a way to...acount for this hazard.” You cleared your throat and leaned over the console to zoom in on the area in question. “This asteroid field is large, messy, and problematic, and had you asked me how to avoid it earlier I wouldn’t have had an answer. But, I think that the best course of action is to separate-to make it look as though the three of you-” you pointed to the generals you were specifying, “are escorting Depa Billaba till she comes in range with the nearby medical station. That way if any Separatists follow you, you can still maintain the element of surprise because I know that if we can make General Billaba’s starship appear vulnerable that they will go for it. Worst case scenario, you dust off the guns a little preemptively. Best case-” again, you clicked another button that revealed a dotted red path through the holo projection, “you can use the asteroids as extra cover while you navigate through this path.” You paused a moment, eyes shifting to gauge the reactions of everyone. From across the table, your eyes met with Commander Wolffe’s who raised an eyebrow at you. “Clone intelligence has informed me that this path might be outdated as well but we will be active on the comms to offer guidance through the field as you go.” Commander Wolffe gave a firm nod and, again, the Jedi and clones retreated inwards to try and think of any situations that they would need to be prepared for. In the weighted silence that followed, you were keenly aware of Plo Koon drawing closer to you as he methodically circled the console before you. His hands remained clasped behind his back the entire time and you couldn’t help but watch him as he approached. 

He came to a stop right next to you-close enough for your arms to brush and for his warmth to seep through the fabric of your greys. Plo Koon remained quiet for a little longer, leaving you more time to fight the instinct that told you to lean closer to him before he moved his arms. His taloned hand brushed the back of your own and his vambrace bumped your forearm as he brought his arms up to cross over his torso. You couldn’t help but dwell on the feeling of even that minuscule contact which almost caused you to miss the compliment he paid your way. 

“Uh...th-thank you, General.” You coughed into your fist in a not so subtle way to correct your stutter. “But really, my plan is only good because my data was good. You should really thank your men that got me the information.” 

The Kel Dor made a huffing sound that would have sounded like a laugh if not for the heavy overlay from his mask. “Believe me, Major, I will but you do deserve some of the credit.” He stressed, even going so far as to grasp your shoulder very briefly. You could still feel the imprint of his touch when he moved his hand away. 

“Anakin, you’re being unusually quiet.” Obi Wan saved you from further implosion as he addressed his former padawan. You and Plo Koon both turned your attention back to the other occupants in the room and you were unsettled to find General Skywalker’s eyebrows furrowed in scrutiny as he glanced between you and the Jedi Master. Perhaps more alarming though was Wolffe’s face. He was staring at Plo Koon with what you could only describe as a bug-eyed look. 

“Just thinking, master.” Skywalker eventually answered. Your jaw tensed in uncertainty though the younger man said nothing more regarding the visual dissection of your interaction. 

The meeting continued for a few more minutes with you working to finalize the more minute details and to take measures to establish backup plans that would most likely be abandoned by the Jedi at the first sign of conflict and the Jedi began to disperse with their own CO’s. Eventually, that left just you, Wolffe, and Plo Koon. At the first sign that the meeting was adjourned, you began to pack your things up and to log off the computers but instead of leaving you to your own devices like you thought he would, Plo Koon remained with you. He casually waited at the console you had left him at with his hands clasped before his diaphragm, a common gesture for him you’d noticed, while Wolffe awkwardly hovered near the door. 

“Was there anything else you needed, General?” You asked, glancing over your shoulder at the Kel Dor. He stood up straight and approached with light footsteps. 

“Not particularly, Major, but I would like to congratulate you once again on another excellently thought out plan.” Plo Koon’s voice was as calm as it ever was but there was something there-a slight lilt you weren’t familiar with or maybe it was better described as a squeak? Slowly spinning on your heel, you turned to face him. 

“Well,...thank you, General. It...It’s my job.” A part of you swore at your inability to take a compliment properly while the other parts were all focused on Plo Koon. Sure, he’d complimented you on your plans before (he did during the meeting) but he had always reserved the more serious praise for after the missions and the debriefings. He’d never stayed after the preliminary meetings. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d prefer if you called me Plo Koon-it feels far too impersonal to be addressed as ‘general’ outside of meetings.” The Kel Dor explained with a raised hand to stop you from saying anything else till he had said his piece. 

You blinked. Once. Twice. Before eventually sliding your gaze over to Wolffe who had a hand clasped over his eyes. That gesture only added kindling to the confused fire as you returned to the man in front of you. There didn’t seem to be anything amiss-his mask looked in place and to your knowledge, he hadn’t been in the medbay recently. “As...whatever you wish...Plo.” You swallowed, his name-something you’d said in your head thousands of times before-felt foreign on your tongue. “You can of course call me ‘Y/n’...then.” You offered uncertainly. 

“Of course,” he echoed with a nod. “I’ve always thought your name fitting.” 

“Thank you…?” You asked uncertainly. 

“I just mean that it is a strong name and you bear it well.” 

“...” Again, you couldn’t help but look over at Wolffe who had taken his face in his hands in what could only be described as a picture of absolute mortification. His helmet was awkwardly squished into his chest as he shook his head from side to side, lips moving as he formed words you couldn’t hear from where you stood. “I...uh...I like your name too, Plo. It’s gentle…?” You tried as you returned your attention to the Kel Dor and raised one shoulder in a half-shrug. 

He brightened, back straightening up as he continued to regard you. “Thank you, I’m rather fond of it myself.” A silence fell over the two of you-horribly tense and laced with an awkward air you had no way of dissipating anytime soon. Averting your eyes from the Jedi, you rolled your lips in and bit them as you fished for something else to say. 

“Is...are you sure there wasn’t anything you needed, General?” You finally asked after shifting on your feet for the third time. 

Plo Koon shook his head, less in a form of denial and more like he was trying to shake himself out of a stupor before answering. “I’m positive but while we’re on the subject of names I feel it is important for me to inform you of the new one circulating amongst my men.” 

You raised your eyebrow at the Jedi, not missing the way Wolffe froze entirely. “A new name for me or…?” 

“For you.” Plo nodded. “It seems as though they’ve taken a liking to calling you ‘Major Buir’.” There was something in his voice that told you he was smiling (or the Kel Dor equivalent of smiling) beneath his anti-ox mask. 

“Buir?” You questioned as your mind raced to dig up a definition for the Mando’a word you’d heard assigned to the Jedi on multiple occasions. “As in what the Wolfpack calls you?” 

“Indeed. Are you familiar with Mando’a?” 

“After fighting alongside the clones?-of course, but I’m afraid most of the terms I know relate to fighting, tactics, or swearing.” You explained promptly with a glance to Wolffe at the mention of his language-the clone in question looked frozen in his spot and it seemed like he was no longer alone as you could swear you saw the familiar red hair of Boost and the silver of Sinker ducking behind the doorway. 

Plo Koon suddenly leaned forward, getting closer to your height as his voice dropped to just above a whisper. “Buir is Mando’a for ‘parent’, Y/n.” Immediately, it felt as though someone had locked you in carbonite-your heart was still warm as it surged with affection for the men of the 104th yet at the same time your body felt the familiar frozen tingle that so often accompanied the sensation of treading through uncharted territory. You were keenly aware of Plo Koon’s proximity and the way your heart sped as a result. In an attempt to combat this you took a deep breath to steady yourself and regain control over your vocal chords. But that was a mistake as Plo’s natural scent infiltrated your senses. He smelled of leather and fresh air, of tea tree and some other piquant scent you couldn’t name that you knew was the remnant of one of the contraband candles he had hidden aboard the ship. It was so him-something the standard issue GAR soap couldn’t hide-that it overwhelmed you in an instant and you found yourself leaning closer. He, a flame, and you, a moth. 

Your lips parted slightly as your face relaxed and you swore that you’d never felt calmer. It felt like someone was wrapping you in a hug; you felt safe, wanted, and adored. “But...if they call you that and are now calling me that…” you began through the sudden dwam your mind floated in. The pieces were starting to fall into place. “Then...General Plo Koon,” your voice suddenly became firm as you forced yourself to step back, “Are you trying to flirt with me?” 

Plo Koon straightened up, his hands finding their usual resting place crossed in front of his stomach. “I am. Was it not obvious?” He asked, his held tilting to the left just slightly. 

You briefly thought back to the somewhat strange string of compliments he’d paid you that lead up to this. “Uh...no, not really.” You explained quickly, eyes now flickering around the room in an attempt to come up with a reply to this revelation. 

“Hmm.” Plo Koon hummed. “My apologies then. Boost encouraged me to be forward-perhaps it was not enough?” You blinked up at him, gaping like a fish-if that was Plo being forward then you wouldn’t have stood a chance if he had taken a subtle route. 

Before you could say anything though, Wolffe’s explosive voice cut through the briefing room as he rounded on Boost. “You told him to do what?!” The commander barked at his red-headed brother who had long since abandoned hiding behind the doorway and was now standing tall with his chest slightly puffed. 

“Oh come on, Vod, we both know the General likes ‘em! And Major Buir wasn’t going to pick up on it anytime soon. I was just trying to help!” He huffed back, practically getting in Wolffe’s face. 

“Meddling isn’t helping, Boost!” 

“I dunno-seemed pretty effective, Commander.” Sinker chimed in. 

Wolffe wheeled on him next. “Don’t tell me you were in on this too!” The one-eyed clone seethed. “If you weren’t my brother I’d-”

“Boys!” You snapped, having heard enough. The three brothers stopped immediately and turned to you; each one bore a similarly sheepish grin. With a shake of your head, you turned back to Plo who had watched on in amusement. “Plo, I’m flattered but...what about your code? I know attachments are dangerous and I wouldn’t want to be the reason you-” 

The Jedi master raised a hand. “My dear, attachments aren’t dangerous. It is how they can be used against a Jedi that is.” 

“I don’t follow.” You tried only for Plo to shake his head. 

“Yes, you do.” The Kel Dor dropped to your height again. “Y/n, if attachments themselves were dangerous Jedi would also be forbidden from being compassionate.” You were stricken silent, painfully aware of the three pairs of eyes currently fixated on the two of you. “But even if they were, I’d still find you worth the risk.” Your heart melted, a soft ‘Plo’ slipping past your lips that made the Kel Dor incline his head. “I know you care for me too, Y/n, so...are you willing to be with me?” 

You bit your lip in thought, a smile creeping across your face as you looked up at the Jedi. “I’m guessing there’s no talking you out of this?” 

“You may try but my feelings will persist.” Plo countered immediately-a lightness to his voice you hadn’t heard before. 

You chuckled briefly and let your gaze slide over to the three clones now curiously peering at the two of you. You took in their identical faces and the imploring looks each one was giving you. When had the Wolfpack wormed their way into your heart? Probably around the same time their general did. You turned back to Plo Koon. “I say...of course,” You smiled and slipped onto your toes to wrap your arms around the Kel Dor’s neck. He returned the embrace with a low hum, his arms slipping around your waist, “ner Jetti.” You could hear whooping and hollering from the entrance to the briefing room. 

……………………………………………………..

The barracks were dark and crowded later that night-many of the men from the 104th had all crammed into one room to watch the holofilm you’d smuggled onto the starship. It had been about three weeks since the fateful meeting that led to the union of you and General Plo Koon and each day had brought a new development in your aliit as word of your relationship spread. For the most part, none of the men were surprised-some even commenting on how Plo Koon was apparently unable to tear his eyes off of you during meetings, holocalls, or your brief but frequent trips to the base on Coruscant. But there were a few who weren’t expecting it at all. 

But everyone you’d told had been supportive. And now as you sat curled into Plo Koon’s side with clones draped all around you as most dozed off in the peaceful barracks you could safely say that you’d found where you belong. 

A tug on your arm pulled you away from the nearly impossible to hear holofilm (the few soldiers that were still awake had turned the volume down so they could let their brothers sleep) and to the clone currently barely awake with his head on your lap. “What is it, Boost?” You asked in a whisper, keenly aware of the sleeping Sinker and Wolffe on Plo’s other side. Still, your voice managed to catch the Jedi’s attention as he turned his head towards the two you. 

The red head stared up at you blearily, a yawn interrupting him before he began speaking. “I just wanted to say that I’m happy you and general buir are together now. And that I’m glad I could help.” 

A breathy laugh escaped you that Plo helped quiet with a hand over your mouth. He dipped his head to gesture at Wolffe who grumbled and curled closer to Sinker in his sleep. In retaliation, you batted his hand away and rolled your eyes at the Kel Dor before looking back at the sleepy man. “I am too, Boost. Thank you.” You answered fondly, letting your head fall against Plo’s shoulder. 

“Like I said-” he cut off to yawn, “happy to help...major...buir.” Boost trailed off as his eyes closed and he wormed his way closer to you. 

You smiled. “Thank you, ner ad’ika.” As Boost officially fell victim to dream land you turned towards Plo who had watched the exchange carefully. The same feeling of being hugged, of being safe, wanted, and loved infiltrated your senses but you now recognized it as Plo’s signature. Still bearing that soft painted smile, you pressed your forehead to his. A final whisper of thank you slipped from you as you resigned yourself to stay in that moment forever. 

[jgvfhl]

Number Lads! AKA me taking a hammer to canon :)

Well now we see some actual plot being affected by the character choices in this here little ol' story I'm writing. Damn this list is getting long... wonderful! (Read Part 1 - Part 2- Part 3)

Some gentle warnings for injury descriptions--specifically burns

ARC-0000 = Zero = d0nut man

CT-2222 = Do-si-do = Double Trouble

CT-3333 = Trees = Leafs

CT-4444 = Fours = Submarine

ARC-5555 = Fives = high fives

ARC-1409 = Echo = BetterDomino

CC-6666 = Sixes/Death = DEATH

ARC-7777 = Sevenset = RedBoiiiii

CT-8888 = Loops = Loopy

high fives: GUYS guys guys i think echo and i can get our hands on nines soon

d0nut man: “get our hands on nines”

d0nut man: well. I’ve heard stranger things out of one of our medics

BetterDomino: lol yeah us too

Leafs: nines? 212th yeah?

high fives: yeah echo and i just got the rundown for a mission with cmdr cody and gen kenobi and there was definitely a CT-9999 on the list

Double Trouble: oo what kinda mission??

BetterDomino: the kind you’re not allowed to know about

high fives: yeah :3

BetterDomino: and technically he shouldn’t even have mentioned it >_>

Double Trouble: oh ho ho

Leafs: do si do, gossip is not worth breaking classified information

high fives: but nines!!

RedBoiiiii: WE’RE GETTING A NEW NUMBER????

high fives: MAYBE

BetterDomino: very strong maybe

DEATH: classified missions = death trap

DEATH: the new guy might not even make it out, don’t get too excited

RedBoiiiii: life of the party, as usual

Leafs: well he is the more experienced of us in these things… so…

high fives: we’re not gonna die guys

Loopy: you better not :(

DEATH: you want some advice? if the seps point a gun at something, they’re going to shoot

DEATH: doesn’t matter how important it is to them or their cause. they will shoot it.

high fives: … noted sir

BetterDomino: thank you

RedBoiiiii: OYA DOMINO I LOVE YOUUUUUUU blease come back safe *bonk*

high fives: *bonk*

BetterDomino: *bonk*

____

Had Nines not been a member of the 212th for nearly two years, he’d probably be wondering if all of his general’s missions went this muja-shaped so fast. Well. Actually, he’d probably be dead. He rather liked not being dead, and hoped to keep it that way, despite the absolute and utter chaos happening around the Citadel’s lower airfield at the moment. The air was a haze of colors as blue, red, and green blaster bolts zipped through the air, combined with the five lightsabers whirling about the generals and commander. But right now, Nines was really trying not to die while pinned down behind this cargo crate.

The noise of a door drew his attention--ever so briefly--as yet more clankers emerged from the hellish prison. He could only take a glance before he had to duck back behind the large cargo crate he and two ARCs were using for cover. He looked over at the pair, watching one--Echo or Fives, he couldn’t quite recall at the moment--launch a charge at the new droids. Nines felt the detonation, and twisted back around to send some bolts towards the scattered droids. Kriffing hells, commando droids? Again? Stars, he really hated those buggers.

“General Skywalker!” Nines barely caught the tail end of the ARC’s warning as he returned to cover. “A droid is manning one of those turrets. They’re gonna blow up the shuttle, sir.”

Oh, hells no. Nines looked up, locating General Skywalker and General Peill on the little flying craft they’d commandeered from incoming assailants. It looked like they were heading towards the turret, then they disappeared over the edge of the cargo crate.

“This is our only chance!” Nines heard behind him from the same ARC. “We have to stop him.” He looked over just as one of the pair disappeared around the side of the crate, the other close on his heels.

“Echo no!”

Nines jogged over, hoping to cover the pair. Echo was running towards the shuttle’s ramp with a shield dropped by one of the commandos. Nines looked and saw at the same time as Fives--if that was Echo, the one still standing here was Fives--the commando droid at the turret’s controls turning the blaster barrels towards the shuttle.

Nines felt a horribly familiar cold lump sink into his gut as the seconds seemed to slow, green turret rounds creeping closer and closer to Echo and their only way out of this Maker-abandoned pit. But it seemed time hadn’t slowed for Fives, who was suddenly reaching to the ascension cable at the back of his utility belt.

He attached it to his blaster, aimed at his brother, and fired.

There was the distinct sound of the cable striking plastoid. A huge noise followed, managing to drown out the whizz of blaster fire. A wave of light and heat washed over the immediate area as the shuttle exploded. Nines’ eyes followed a chunk of the ship as it flew over the landing pad and destroyed the turret and the droid manning it, but then his attention was back on Fives. Fives, who was drawing in his ascension cable desperately as the rest of the strike team collected by the last way out of the landing pad.

“We need to go,” General Kenobi said, and no one was going to argue. “Now.”

“Fives,” Captain Rex stood next to his ARCs.

Fives was kneeling on one knee over Echo’s unmoving, singed, and smoking form, hastily detaching the cable from his brother’s chestplate. “I got him,” he said, and even for all the training he had, anyone would hear the distress underlining the urgency of his actions.

Nines cast his eyes over the fallen ARC. The plastoid of Echo’s boot had melted in the intense heat of the shuttle’s explosion. It wasn’t coming off until a medic was there to cut it off. Nines was grateful now for the filters in his bucket, keeping the smell of burning blacks and probably flesh out of his nose. Taking another look, he saw Echo’s right arm had suffered similar injuries--the side unprotected by the shield. But, judging by Fives’ concerted efforts, he was still alive.

As the team retreated, Fives finally stowed his cable and his blaster on his belt, hefting his brother across his shoulders and hauling them both up. Nines lagged between the two parties, waiting until Fives had caught up before picking up his pace.

“No man left behind, right?” Nines said, low enough to keep it between them.

“Not a kriffing chance,” Fives huffed.

_____

In a whirlwind of sulfurous stench, near misses, anoobas, crawling over lethal lava lakes, and the unfortunate death of General Peill, the greatly reduced strike team was finally aboard General Koon’s gunship. Fives carefully lowered his brother to the floor, leaning him against the wall. Captain Rex maneuvered over to them, standing between them and the other occupants like a human privacy screen as the gunship flew far, far away from the stinking hell that was The Citadel.

It was another hour or so before Nines had the chance to find them again. Echo’s injuries were the worst to come out of the mission, mostly because of the sheer number of casualties. Nines himself only suffered some relatively superficial bumps and bruises, so he was cleared from medical quickly.

“Where are you off to, Nines?”

The commander, too, had been quickly cleared, it seemed. Nines turned and waited for Commander Cody before starting for the other medbay rooms again. “Sir, I thought I’d check on the two ARCs. Fives and Echo?”

The commander nodded, switching his helmet to under his other arm. “I was gonna check on Rex, and he’s probably with them. I’ll come with.”

“The captain’s pretty fond of them, then?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” the commander smiled, though there was something bittersweet in the expression.

As he’d predicted, they found the captain and Fives outside one of the medbay rooms. Rex was seated on the bench between doorways, his bucket on the floor between his feet, a water bottle in one hand. Fives was on his feet, pacing back and forth in front of the room, his eyes only leaving the windows briefly at every pass. His bucket was resting on the ground near the captain’s.

When the two caught sight of Nines and Cody approaching, Rex made to stand, but the commander gave him a sharp look. “Sit down, Rex.” The captain slumped back down on the bench, where the commander soon joined him. “What’s the word?”

“There hasn’t been any kriffing word,” Fives growled, still pacing.

The commander’s brows scrunched. “It’s been over an hour.”

“I know,” Fives shot back with far more force than Nines would ever use towards a commander.

But Cody took it in stride, barely reacting to the added bite in the ARC’s words. He just nodded and leaned back against the wall like Captain Rex, whom he asked, “Have you both been looked over?”

The captain nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been cleared.”

Nines watched Fives pacing back and forth. He hadn’t gotten much of a chance to talk to Echo or Fives before the whole strike team went into carbonite. But, clearly, Fives needed a distraction. Nines had been around long enough, battle after battle, to recognize that.

He took a step forward, clearing his throat. “Hey, uh… Fives. What was it you were telling me about before we left? That… number group?”

Fives paused in his pacing, and some of the stress on his face replaced by slight confusion, then recognition. “Right. Yeah.”

The captain raised an eyebrow at them both. “Number group? Fives, how many people are you gonna tell about those guys?”

“Well,” Nines began, “he had a good reason. I’m CT-9999. Nines, sir.”

The captain chuckled. “I see.”

“Yeah, he didn’t get much out before we had to go under. Anything else I should know about these guys?”

Fives finally stopped pacing and sighed quietly, looking over through the medbay windows. “Yeah, okay.” He rubbed his eyes, his shoulders lowering as some of the fight left his system. It appeared he’d realized Nines was only trying to take his mind off his injured brother, and was giving in to the plan.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up while you’re at it, Fives,” Captain Rex told him, and despite the wording, it wasn’t a question.

“But--”

“Echo’s not going anywhere,” the captain said, cutting off Fives’ protests. “I’ll stay here, and I’ll comm you the second I hear anything.”

Fives sighed again. The captain had won, Nines knew. The ARC trudged over to collect his helmet from the floor by his captain’s boots. As he straighted up, the captain caught the back of his neck and pressed their foreheads together long enough to murmur something inaudible. Nines knew it wasn’t for him to hear anyway. But Fives nodded when he was released, and even Cody reached up to pat his chestplate. Huh.

“Food first or shower first?” Nines asked when he walked over to him. “‘Cause I’m starving.”

“Yeah, me too,” Fives admitted. “But, I think I wanna get the stink of that place out of my armor before I try eating anything.”

_____

After a fast shower, even by GAR standards, Nines found Fives sitting on the floor outside the ‘freshers in just his blacks and boots with his kit and a wet cloth, in the middle of wiping off the worst of the grime from the mission. He had paused, however, and was now fiddling with his wrist comm. Nines sat down next to him with his own kit to do the same.

“Any news?”

“No, I just remembered something…” Fives replied, clearly occupied. Finally, his comm blinked green as it connected with someone else’s. “Loops?”

There was a hesitant answer. “Fives…? Why can you comm me while I’m in hyperspace?”

Fives smiled triumphantly. “Don’t worry about it. Are you busy right now?”

“I mean… it can wait an hour or so. Why?”

“You wanna pop down to the mess hall for a bit?”

There was a pause. “Are you onboard?”

“Maybe.”

Loops stuttered out a few indignant syllables before demanding, “Did we just haul ass across hyperspace to pull you out of The Citadel?”

“Well, not just me, but yeah. Thanks, by the way, for whatever small part you played in getting us the hell out of there.”

“What in the nine hells were you doing in The Citadel, Fives?”

Fives rolled his eyes. “Can you just meet me in the mess and I’ll tell you?”

Another pause. “Fine, but I’m not happy about it.”

Even if Fives hadn’t filled Nines in on who Loops was on their way to the mess hall, it would have been fairly obvious by the large eight tattooed on his cheek, much the way Fives’ tattoo was obvious. Loops was CT-8888, and his face only dropped its suspicious scowl at Fives when Nines introduced himself.

“Nines? Really?”

“Hey, I said we could get our hands on him,” Fives said around a mouthful of rations. He and Nines had gotten their food and found a table before Loops had shown up.

“Yeah, and the commander said he’d be dead by the end of the mission,” Loops shot back across the table.

Nines raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m not dead…”

“Which is wonderful,” Loops assured him.

“And… which commander?”

Loops looked at Fives, who took the opportunity to take a long drink. “You didn’t tell him about the commander?”

When he finished, Fives shrugged, wiping his mouth and smiling. “I think it’s better when you find out organically.”

“Maker, you and Sevenset are two of a kind,” Loops said, shaking his head. “Hey, where’s Echo?”

“Medbay.”

“Is he okay?”

Nines watched the shadow of worry fall across Fives’ face, but he seemed to shake it off. “I don’t know yet.”

Loops dipped his chin, looking sympathetic. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Fives tried to give an assuring smile, but it didn’t quite land. “Yeah, well… it’s not gonna kill him. So.” He poked the remaining cubes of food on his tray with his fork.

His friend nodded, understanding that, sometimes, injuries weren’t so straightforward to fix. Clones had been decommissioned for some pretty mundane reasons, and everyone knew it. “Well, hey,” he said, “you’re both alive, and so is Nines. You can prove the commander wrong if nothing else.”

“Well, you’ve got a point there.”

“Do you wanna do that now, or…?” Loops asked, slowly raising his wrist comm and opening a text channel.

“We’re in hyperspace,” Nines reminded him.

He frowned, putting his arm back on the table and resting his chin on it. “I hate hyperspace.”

Nines could understand. Usually, he was too busy to complain, but now he was a bit at odd ends. But before he could voice his commiseration, Fives’ comm pinged, and a second later, Fives sprang up from the table, food and tray almost forgotten.

“That was Rex, I gotta go,” he said, already hurrying away to deposit his tray before dashing out the door.

Loops had made no move to follow him, and Nines knew there would be no room in the medbay for them regardless. “Hope it’s good news,” Loops said. Nines nodded.

_____

Fives skidded to a stop, narrowly avoiding crashing directly into Rex in front of Echo’s room in the medbay. Rex grabbed his upper arms to help him stop.

“What is it? What happened?” Fives demanded, only just noticing the Wolfpack medic standing by. He looked regulation except for a large geometric tattoo on the left side of his neck.

“Take a breath, Fives,” Rex told him. “This is Bolt, he was just about to tell us.”

Bolt gestured them into the room, allowing Fives to move past him to stand next to his twin. Echo was still unconscious, although Fives didn’t know if that was because of the extent of his injuries or because of something the medics had done. A blanket was drawn up to his chest, his arms laid out at his sides. His right arm was swathed in bandages almost to the shoulder joint, and Fives could see by the outline of his right leg that it was wrapped up similarly. He reached over to put a hand on his brother’s head, feeling some of the tension he’d still been carrying fade as he ran gentle fingers through his brother’s hair.

“So, how is he?” Rex asked.

“Why is he still unconscious?” Fives added.

Bolt folded his arms, tucking his datapad under one arm. “He’s medically sedated. The burns on his leg are extensive and severe, and it’s better for him to be unconscious for the pain. Most of the time we spent today was getting his leg out of his boots and blacks. They’d melted on in some places. There are some third-degree burns around his knees and ankles where his armor didn’t protect him, but for the most part, they’re all second- and first-degree.”

“But his--it’ll all heal, right?” Fives wanted to know. Batchmate aside, Echo was his partner on the field. He needed to know Echo could still be that, or else Jesse might be getting a bit of informal ARC training to make up for it.

The medic nodded. “It should heal. There might be some nerve damage that will take longer than the rest, but it should be a functional result. Whatever surgeries or grafts will be minor, which is good. As soon as we come out of hyperspace, I will contact your medics, Captain, and let them know to have a bacta tank ready for him when you arrive.”

Rex nodded back, and Fives could see a similar shedding of worries from his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“It’ll still be a couple months until he’s ready for action, but he should be able to return to full duties eventually.” He unfolded his arms and moved towards the door. “You can stay as long as you want.”

Fives nodded, his focus back on Echo now the medic was done. He didn’t notice the captain moving until Rex’s hand landed on his shoulder, and he looked over. “Have a seat. I know you’re gonna be here a while.”

An empty supply crate had appeared behind him. He sat, his hand moving to grasp his brother’s. “I thought I was gonna be the one getting hurt doing something stupid like that.”

Rex breathed a short laugh. “Yeah. Well. Good on you for pulling him out like that. Ascension cable--don’t think I would have thought of that one.”

A tiny smile appeared on Fives’ face. “Guess the ARC training was good for something.”

“Mm… I think that was more Domino training than ARC training.” Rex ruffled Fives’ curls. “Maybe get some sleep while you’re keeping him company, okay?”

He didn’t have any arguments for that. Once Rex was gone, however, he stood up so he could lean over Echo to put their foreheads together, resting his left hand on the side of his brother’s face. He remained like that for a short moment, where he could feel his brother’s slow, even breaths across his face, and to finally let it sink in that Echo was okay. That explosion had been terrifying to watch, and the sight of Echo’s body landing limply on the ground on the end of the cable would have debilitated Fives before ARC training. Then again, they wouldn’t be ARCs if they didn’t have the potential to be better than themselves.

Echo was okay. That was the important thing.

“You’re gonna be right as rain in a few,” he murmured before moving to kiss the spot where their heads had touched. “And I’ll be there the whole time, okay?”

He pulled the crate a bit closer to the bed before he sat back down so he could lay his arms down and rest his head on top of them. He took Echo’s hand in his own, tucked their clasped hands against his cheek, and closed his eyes. Sleep wasn’t far behind.

_____

high fives: guess who’s not dead commander

RedBoiiiii: FIVES!!!! YOU’RE OKAY!!!

DEATH: what do you want, a medal?

high fives: already have one, thanks

Leafs: is everyone else alive too, or just you

Double Trouble: YOU LIVE!!! Now do we get all the goss about the mission??

Leafs: do si do you are a hazard to the gar

Double Trouble: why thank you trees <3

high fives: anyway nines is *also* alive

RedBoiiiii: NINES??

Loopy: and so is echo

d0nut man: oh good nox and pixel were worried about their “handprint buddy”

high fives: that’s adorable he’ll be glad to hear it

DEATH: Where is your plus one?

high fives: … medbay

high fives: also sevenset, i sent you nines’ comm code? didn’t you get it?

RedBoiiiii: oh whoops hang on

d0nut man: what happened to echo???

Leafs: is he okay?

high fives: he got caught in an explosion, got some nasty burns. he’s still in bacta for another half-day, but the medics seem pleased with the progress so… yay?

Double Trouble: damn i’m sorry that sounds awful

RedBoiiiii: nu ;-; fives that sucks but i’m glad the medics are keeping an eye on him

Loopy: yeah that’s good to hear

Loopy: sevens did you get nines in here yet i wanna say hi to my number neighbor

Orangio: hello i’m nines

Orangio: please tell me i can change my own name here

Loopy: nines! hiiii, yeah you can change it

high fives: hey nines

Leafs: welcome to the madness

Double Trouble: we’re not *that* bad :)

d0nut man: … arguable, but welcome anyway

Double Trouble: >:(

DressedtotheNines: thanks guys

Submarine: sorry to hear about your batcher, fives. hi nines

RedBoiiiii: IS THAT FOURS???

Loopy: fours!!

Submarine: yeah sorry i’m not here a lot, but i read all of it

RedBoiiiii: no apologies!! only love!!

Double Trouble: yeah there’s no pressure to use the chat, don’t worry about it

DressedtotheNines: so if i happen to get good footage of cmdr cody like spin kicking grievous or smth, you guys want to see that, yeah?

RedBoiiiii: YES

high fives: pleeeaassseee rex hoards his footage the bastard >:(

d0nut man: i would like to see it

Submarine: yeah me too. general mundi is… he doesn’t do that

DEATH: i’ll bet i could get cadet pictures of cody from some of the alphas

DressedtotheNines: commander death sir i would be honored to help blackmail him for you if you ever need it

DEATH: noted

RedBoiiiii: wait

Double Trouble: anyone else see that

RedBoiiiii: DID WE FINALLY FIND A NUMBER SIXES LIKES????

DEATH: no and while you’re at it kriff off

RedBoiiiii: nines you are magical

DressedtotheNines: ………… cool

I love these lads so much :) @darth-void @23-bears @theultimatesandwich @nintendolover13 @peacefulwizardfox @glubtheflyingfish (lmk if you don't want to be tagged anymore 👍 or if you'd like to be tagged in the future!)

[izazov]

This prompt has been on my mind for ages. Today, the inspiration struck, resulting in this ficlet. The ending was supposed to be less angsty and without the dark overtones, but here we are. 

The cot was narrow and hard, and the stone wall uncomfortably damp and cold. After having been stripped of his armor, Obi-Wan was left wearing only thin cotton tunic, loose leggings and boots. It was a poor protection against the chill that was slowly but surely seeping into his very bones.

 Obi-Wan shifted on his small cot, trying to find a more comfortable position. It wasn't an easy task, not even for someone who has spent the majority of his life sleeping under the open sky.

But that was the purpose of a cell, was it not? To leave one bereft of comforts as well as freedom.

Dragging his fingers across his face, Obi-Wan pushed those morose thoughts to the back of his mind. It would do him no good to sink into self-pity. He had made his choice, and he had done it knowing what the cost would be. To lament his decision now would be futile, but also a sign of a weak and fickle character.

He had already lost almost everything, he had no intention adding dignity and integrity to the list.

The sound of metal scraping against stone, followed by heavy footsteps made Obi-Wan stiffen involuntarily, his gaze flicking toward the iron bars of his cell.

Obi-Wan tried to remain calm, but it was a doomed battle. His stomach twisted into a tight knot, his fingers flexing where they were resting on his knees.

Have they already reached a decision? It has been barely a day since Obi-Wan had been thrown back into his cell, after refusing to accept guilt or plead for mercy for having disobeyed his orders.

Obi-Wan swallowed the bile that had gathered in the back if his throat, helpless anger flaring inside his chest as he recalled Palpatine's voice, accusing him of treason.

Treason. After fighting and bleeding for the King and his country his entire adult life, that was what he would be remembered for; the act that had earned him the moniker The Traitor General.

As if the real treason would not have been razing an entire town to ground and spilling innocent blood, all in the Prince's name.

Even if Obi-Wan had been capable of going against his morals, he would rather have slit his own throat than tied Anakin's name with the slaughter of the innocents.

Even those who were supporting Dooku.

Not that it mattered to Palpatine and the majority of the Royal Council. Quite the opposite. Obi-Wan has long suspected the Lord Regent's... less than favorable opinion of himself.

Obi-Wan could only imagine Palpatine's satisfaction with Obi-Wan's fall from grace. Now, there would be no one standing between him and the Prince. No one to lessen his malignant influence.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and grit his teeth, his hands balling into fists as impotent fury blazed its path through Obi-Wan's veins.

There was nothing Obi-Wan could do about it now. No way to prove he had deliberately been set up to fail. He had been stripped of his rank and title, his reputation and honor tarnished. His word meant nothing. He had nothing. Only his life.

Soon, maybe not even that.

The steps grew louder as they drew closer, only to halt abruptly.

"General," the familiar voice called, low and urgent, making Obi-Wan's eyes snap open.

"Rex," Obi-Wan said, rising to his feet and walking over to the cell bars. The sight of Rex dressed in the formal uniform of the Captain of the Guard still seemed faintly surreal to Obi-Wan, even if it has been six months since Rex had assumed that position. Obi-Wan frowned, glancing warily at their surroundings. "You should not be here."

"With due respect, General," Rex said, squaring Obi-Wan with a flat look. "That's probably the stupidest thing I've heard you say." He paused, the corner of his mouth lifting faintly. "And I've heard you composing lyrics while drunk."

Obi-Wan felt his mouth draw into a smile. "Ah, yes. That hadn't been my most dignified moment."

"Maybe not," Rex said, growing serious. "But there's not much demand for dignity while you're out there, freezing and covered in mud, waiting for the enemy. Camaraderie, respect... That's what matters. And you showed us both, General. I- We will never forget it."

"I-" Obi-Wan's voice faltered for a moment, his throat burning with a myriad of emotions. He swallowed thickly, composing himself. "You should not call me that anymore. I am no longer your general."

"You will always be my general," Rex said, solemn and without a moment's hesitation. A shadow crossed over his features. "Cody would say the same if he were here."

Obi-Wan looked away as guilt churned in the hollow of his chest. "It hadn't been my intention to drag Cody down with me. He should not have been demoted because of my actions."

"Cody doesn't blame you, and you shouldn't blame yourself," Rex remarked, pulling out a key from the inside of his jacket. "What you did was right, and the men know it."

Obi-Wan made a step back, his eyes widening in alarm. "Rex, I am not-"

"I'm not here to break you out," Rex cut in, unlocking the door and pulling it open. "I'm here to take you to the Prince. We don't have much time, General, so save the martyr act for some other time."

Obi-Wan blinked, caught between amusement and concern. "What does Anakin have to do with this?" Crossing his hands over his chest, Obi-Wan gave Rex a sharp look. "You were supposed to discourage his reckless behavior, not go along with it."

"Right now, General, you're the one with the problematic attitude," Rex said, frustration giving his voice a sharp edge. He squared Obi-Wan with a flat look, gesturing at the open door of his cell. "Like I said, we don't have much time. So you can cooperate or risk seeing what the Prince would do if I don't bring you to him on time."

Obi-Wan pressed his mouth into a thin line. "I don't think Anakin has been a good influence on you, Captain."

Rex shrugged. "Since you're the one who recommended me for this position, you have no one but yourself to blame, General."

Obi-Wan sighed, but made no further protest. Rex was right. Whatever ridiculous plan Anakin had concocted, Obi-Wan had no choice but go along with it. Or risk pushing Anakin into doing something incredibly foolish.

Striding out of the cell, Obi-Wan gave Rex a pointed look, arching an eyebrow. "I concede, Captain. Now what?"

Rex pulled out a pair of manacles, looking uncomfortable. "I- I'm sorry, General. It's just-"

"I understand, Rex," Obi-Wan cut in, extending his wrists. "You have my permission."

Rex let out a sigh of relief. But he still looked uncomfortable as he closed the manacles around Obi-Wan's wrists.

"Now," Obi-Wan said, grimly determined. "Take me to Anakin."

***

Obi-Wan had half-expected someone to stop them.

But, as they were walking the mostly empty hallways, Rex's hand firmly around Obi-Wan's bicep, no one had spared them more than a curious look.

Despite that, Obi-Wan could not relax; his stomach was tied into knots, while his lungs seemed unable to draw enough air.

It was nothing new. Anakin has always been the only person capable of completely shattering Obi-Wan's equilibrium.

Though, this was the first time he had done it when he wasn't actually physically present.

Obi-Wan's confusion and alarm grew further when, instead of taking the right turn, Rex took him up the narrow stairs that led to the east wing of the palace.

"Where are we going?" Obi-Wan demanded in a low voice. "This wing has not been opened since the Queen's death."

"I have my orders," Rex answered curtly, making it clear he wasn't going to elaborate further.

Obi-Wan clenched his jaw, but remained silent.

"We're here," Rex announced, stopping in front of large mahogany doors. He tapped the doors twice in rapid succession, then took a step back. "The Prince is waiting for you."

"You are not coming inside?"

Rex's mouth curled faintly. "Like I said, I have my orders."

"Orders, of course," Obi-Wan remarked drily. Rex merely shrugged in response.

Taking a deep breath, Obi-Wan pushed open the doors, only to find himself enveloped in a tight embrace as soon as the doors clicked shut behind him.

For one moment - precious and stolen - Obi-Wan relaxed into Anakin's embrace, allowing his eyes to fall shut, the entire world narrowing to just the two of them.

"Obi-Wan," Anakin murmured into Obi-Wan's hair, his arms tightening around Obi-Wan's shoulders. "Thank the Gods you're finally here."

Obi-Wan inhaled sharply, painfully aware how there was no other place he would rather be in than Anakin's arms. And equally aware that it was the one place where he shouldn't be.

Silently cursing his own weakness, Obi-Wan forced himself to step back, out of Anakin's embrace. It took far more strength of will than Obi-Wan was willing to admit. Even to himself.

Ignoring Anakin's confused, dejected expression, Obi-Wan sketched a low bow, purposely clanging with his manacles. "You left me no choice, Your Highness."

Anakin blinked, confusion quickly morphing into frustration on his face. "Now is not the time for your poor humor, Obi-Wan."

"Believe me, your Highness, I am in no mood for jesting."

Anakin's eyes flashed. "Stop calling me that," he bit out. He let out a frustrated noise, dragging a hand through his already messy curls. "What is wrong with you? Don't you understand how precarious your current position is?" Anakin's voice broke on the last word, his expression turning desperate for a fraction of a moment.

Obi-Wan's resolve weakened as he took in Anakin's appearance: the paleness of his face, the dark circles underneath his eyes and their almost frantic gleam.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan sighed. "Being seen with me now can only harm you. You know that."

Anakin's lips curled over his teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously. "I may not be king yet, but I am not about to cower before the Council like a scared child in my own blasted home, Obi-Wan."

"Is that why we are meeting here and not in your quarters?"

Anakin opened his mouth, only to shut it, his cheeks coloring.

Obi-Wan frowned, unease forming a tight knot in his abdomen. "Anakin?" Obi-Wan said, trying but failing to keep his growing alarm out of his voice. "What are you not telling me?"

Anakin took a deep breath, straightening fully. "The Council has decided on your sentence."

Obi-Wan swallowed, his breath stuttering in his chest. He made himself smile. "And? What have they decided?"

"Exile," Anakin replied, voice barely over a whisper. He looked away, his hands curling into fists. "Some- Some members of the Council were insisting on execution but Palpatine made them reconsider."

"Did he now?" Obi-Wan said, more to himself than Anakin.

Anakin snapped his gaze up, scowling. "I know you dislike the Lord Regent, but he was the only one defending you." Anakin rubbed at his forehead. "Except Yoda."

"So this is goodbye, then?" Obi-Wan asked after a moment, faintly surprised how steady his voice was.

Anakin shook his head vehemently. As if mere thought was too horrible to contemplate. He crossed the space between them in two long strides, gripping Obi-Wan by his upper arms, his eyes gleaming fervently. "No, because you are not going anywhere. I won't allow it."

Obi-Wan let out a deep breath. "Anakin, there is nothing you can do. Even if you were-"

"Yes there is," Anakin cut in, deadly resolve etched onto his features.

Obi-Wan smiled, a soft, sad smile. "You are my Prince and my dearest friend, Anakin," Obi-Wan said. "I would have given my life for you a hundred times over, but I won't allow you to tarnish your honor and what little has left of mine on a fool's quest."

Anakin closed his eyes briefly, his face contorting into a pained expression. "That is not your decision to make, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan felt a shiver of dread crawl down his spine. "What do you mean?"

Anakin released him, then turned on his heel, striding over to a nearby table. He stood there, unmoving, for one long moment, his shoulders sketching a rigid line.

"There is one law that goes beyond the Council, an old tradition no one would dare dispute," Anakin said, voice barely over a whisper. A moment later Obi-Wan could hear a faint click of a latch being opened. "The one thing that could save you and keep you here. With me."

Unconsciously, Obi-Wan made a step back. "There is no such law, Anakin. You should-"

Anakin turned around, fixing Obi-Wan with an unwavering gaze.

Obi-Wan broke off abruptly, his eyes widening at the sight of the gold collar in Anakin's right hand.

Obi-Wan knew that collar. Knew what it meant. But he refused to accept the implications.

Not now. Not like this.

"Yes, there is," Anakin said, striding forward. Obi-Wan felt frozen in place, his thoughts shuddering to a stop when he felt Anakin's fingers brush against his neck in a feather light caress. "I have the right to choose a consort. It can be anyone. And I have chosen you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan blinked up at Anakin, unable to move or form a coherent thought even as he felt the collar close around his neck.

"This is not the way, Anakin," Obi-Wan managed to force through the tight clench of his throat. "Take it off."

"There is no other way," Anakin said, tipping his forehead against Obi-Wan's. "I'm sorry, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, the soft click of a latch echoing loudly in the silence of the room.

[likeshootingstarsinthenightsky]

Alive (Echo x Reader)

A/N: Me, back again with another Star Wars story? You bet! There is both angst and a lil fluff!

Tagging: @kaminobiwan @simping-for-fives

 “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

You hated those words. You hated the way people looked at you with pity. You hated that everyone now looked at you with a hint of sorrow in their eyes when they talked with you.

You hated how Fives couldn’t look you in the eyes. Or how any of the 501st couldn’t talk to you without feeling like they were interacting with a ticking time bomb.

Were you sad? Yes. Were you angry? Yes. But it was your duty to keep going, to keep living.

The doors to your quarters hiss shut. Immediately, you’re surrounded by darkness. Without turning on the lights, you make your way to your bed. Every part of you is willing that sleep comes quickly. But before sleep can overtake you, sadness overwhelms you. Sadness creeps into your chest, making it feel like a weight is crushing you, making it harder to breathe. Sadness makes its way to your throat, closing it off. Letting out a choked sob, the tears final flow. Your body starts shaking from the force of the sobs. Once the sadness overwhelms you, you lose all sense of time.

A blaring noise wakes you up. Turning off the alarm, you make your way into the refresher. Staring at your reflection, you can see the puffiness in your eyes, and just how tired you are.

Making yourself presentable for the day, you leave your quarters. Making your way towards the mess, you hear the distinct voices of some of your favorite people. From the familiar blue lines on their armor, you knew it was Rex, Kix, and Fives. Walking slightly faster so you could walk a few paces behind them, you catch wind of their conversation.

Kix was filling the two in about some of the things that had happened when they had went out to 79’s. From the story he was telling them, you gathered it was a fun night.

“Speaking of fun,” Kix says, “where were you last night Fives?” Rex shakes his head at Kix. Fives stiffens for a second before responding.

“I fell asleep.” He says, and Rex gives Kix a look to drop the subject. Rex is also the first one to spot you behind them. He calls you over, and the four of you make your way towards the mess hall. The conversation then moves into what everyone thinks will be served in the mess today.

While the three of them continue talking, you see Hardcase and Jesse making their way towards your table. And soon, the sounds of their voices fill the mess hall. You didn’t realize that you had drown out the sound of the men until Jesse started to say something.

“Hey,” Jesse draws the attention of his vode, “remember that time Ech-“ At the start of the name, he stops, his eyes are wide, and he looks afraid for a moment. All eyes are focus on you. Feeling their stares on you, you compose yourself before you address the men.

“Go on,” you say, keeping your voice as neutral as possible, “don’t let me stop you from telling your story.” You see Jesse nod his head, but he clears his throat and decides to just change the subject completely.

--

“I don’t believe you.” Your voice wavers, and Rex can see the way your fists clench, to keep yourself from breaking. From working with you since the start of the war, he’s been able to tell when you’re not fine- even if you say that you are.

“(Y/N),” it’s Anakin that speaks, “if Rex says it’s possible, isn’t that enough of a reason to think he’s alive?”

“Alive?” You spat out, “how can you tell me that there’s a possibility that he’s alive?” Eyes full of fury look at the men in front of you.

“I tried,” huffing, “I tried to see if there could have been a possibility that he was alive for so long! But I never found anything. So why now? Why do you have to try and tell me he could be alive when I’ve just started believing that he’s gone?”

Both men remain silent at your confession. Rex moves closer to you and places a hand on your arm.

“Vod’ika,” he waits until you acknowledge him, “if he’s out there, we have to find him.” Nodding at his words, you wish them luck. Anakin asks you if you wanted to come, and you tell him that as much as you would like to, you have your own duties to attend to.

The truth is you don’t want to go. If he really was gone, then your life would continue the way it has been. You didn’t want to think of the possibility of Echo being alive, because you wouldn’t know how to handle the emotions that it would awaken.

As you were looking over your holopad, a knock on your door broke your concentration. Muttering for the person to come in, you see that it’s Rex. The expression on his face doesn’t answer your silent question- is Echo alive?

Rex moves to sit next to you and places his helmet next to your forgotten holopad.

“He’s alive,” those words cause your heart to beat twice as fast, and you look at Rex stunned, “but he’s not coming back.”

At those words, your heart feels like someone had plunged it into ice water. “What?” Questioning the words that Rex has said, “you just said he’s alive? What do you mean he’s not coming back?”

Rex understands your confusion, and he tells you about the mission. He hesitates before he tells you that he’s not coming back to the 501st, and that he was joining Clone Force 99.

‘Clone Force 99,’ you say, thinking to yourself.  Something in your brain clicks, you’ve seen their statistics, and they’re a very impressive group of clones.

Nodding your head, you let his words sink in, barely registering Rex’s comforting shoulder squeeze before he picks up his helmet and leaves your quarters.

Sinking further into your chair, you’re floored by the emotions that pass through you- relief, shock, happiness. “He’s alive,” your words fill the space around you. It’s the only thing that is running through your brain.

Echo is alive.

Sighing, you feel like someone has pulled you away from the fog that has been surrounding you for so long. He’s alive.

But he didn’t want to come back. To his vode. Sure, he’s still with other vode, but it’s different, they aren’t the 501st. But what strikes you the most is that he didn’t come back to you.

He didn’t come back for you.

The thought makes its way through your bones and flows through your blood. Did he not love you? Did he forget about you?

No.

You were not going to let the negative thoughts take up residence in your mind or in your heart. You are not going to let the emptiness consume you again. You have spent too long living in the fog of sadness, in the depths of depression because the man you love was dead.

He’s alive, and although he might not be with you, the knowledge of him living is enough to make sure you survive this war. It has to be enough.

--

Over. The war was finally over. You could finally rest. Life would go back to normal again? But you don’t remember what normal is anymore, for normal had been fighting in a war. From all around you, you could hear the cheers from the men around you. A hand touches your shoulder and you look to see Anakin next to you. Smiling softly, you could see just how much the war has changed him. That, and being a father to twins would change a person as well.

Around you, you could see troopers hugging their vode. You saw Rex talking with Cody, and Obi Wan talking with Ashoka. Moving your head in the direction of his former master and former padawan, you silently give him the permission he needs to join them.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“I’ll join you in a minute Anakin.” He smiles, and you smile back, although the smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes, it’s still a genuine smile. A movement from the corner of your eye wipes the smile away.

Echo.

For the first time in years your eyes are seeing the man you love once more. As if he could feel your gaze on him, he turns to see you. His face mirrors you. Lips parted in shock and wide eyed. He looks different, but still the same. Once his brown eyes lock on yours, you have no idea whether to run away from him or run towards him.

Like magnets drawn to each other, the two of you are walking closer and closer to each other. Time has stopped, and there is no one in the world but the two of you. The moment he is in arms reach of you he stops.

“You’re here.” The words flow out breathlessly, and you can feel your heartbeat racing. Your hands move on their own to grasp the sides of Echo’s face. His hand instinctively moves to you pull you closer to him by the waist.

“I’m here,” he whispers into your lips before his lips finally collide with yours. Your lips move in sync, both of you trying to convey how much you love each other, how you longed for each other, and just how much you have missed each other.

Pulling away, Echo whimpers, and although your feel like you need to bring air back into your lungs, you give him one more soft kiss on his lips, before you finally catch your breath. He does the same, and you can feel his hot breath on your face.

The world slowly comes back into focus and you can hear his brothers cheering. You can hear Fives and Jesse yelling something, something that sounds slightly inappropriate, but it causes Echo to laugh. His laugh is something that you sometimes hear in your thoughts, when you focus on the happy memories, but they don’t do his actual laugh justice.

Smiling, he presses his forehead to yours, reveling in the feeling of being with you again. It’s not long before his brothers come over and hug their vod.

Stepping through the threshold of your apartment, you feel a pull on your arm, looking back at Echo, you see the hesitation in his eyes mixed with panic and fear. Squeezing his hand, his eyes focus back to yours which look back at him with so much warmth and patience, that he allows you to pull him softly through the door of your apartment.

Gently you guide him past your living room and through the hallway leading to the bedroom. Releasing his hand, you move to close the door. Turning around to face Echo, you see him looking around your room, taking in the sight of a place he spent many nights here when the two of you would have a break from fighting in a war.

“It looks the same.” Muttering more to himself than to you. Chuckling softly, you place a hand on his chest, your eyes focusing on the red skull on his armor.

“Let’s get ready for bed.” Echo stiffens at your words. Looking up at his face, slightly paler than it was a moment ago, his human hand clenched in a fist at his side.

“Echo?” Moving a step back, you give him a little bit of space, “Take to me, please.”

“I, I-“ a staggered breath, “I-“ Gently, you help Echo move to sit on the bed as he tries to process his words.

“It’s okay,” Echo’s eyes look straight into yours, “if you want, we can decide who sleeps on the couch?”

“No.” His words are strong, and determination makes its way across his face. But softens at his next words, “I want to be closer to you.”

After a beat, you leave your spot on the bed, Echo whines softly, and you reassure him that you are going to change in the refresher, giving Echo a moment to himself. Placing a soft kiss to your forehead, you can tell he’s grateful for the small moment of privacy.

Exiting the refresher, you notice that Echo hasn’t moved from where he was sitting on the bed. Moving to kneel in front of him, you realize that he’s so lost in thought that he hadn’t noticed you- at all. His eyes were glazed over staring straight, but not actually looking at anything.

Slowly, you placed a hand on his knee. The contact drew him out of whatever Echo was thinking about. In his eyes was a quick flash of fear before they softened at the sight of you in front of him. Rising from your spot on the floor, your hands move to glide over his shoulders. Your hands remembering where the hooks on his armor are. Instantly his hand comes to rest on top of yours.

Looking into his eyes, you softly ask, “can I remove your armor?” His eyes search your face to find any traces of bad intent against him- there isn’t any. All he can see in your face is how much you love him, how much you care for him. Trusting on the emotions displayed on your face, he lets go of the pain, the fear, and nods his head.

“Walk me through it, please?” You ask him, and he does. You follow his instructions with slow and steady hands. Your eyes taking in the sight of him- the familiar scars and new ones. Your heart clenches at the thought of what he had to go through.

You feel his hand brush against your cheek wiping away the tears that had fallen. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I’m sorry.”

Echo pulls you closer to him, his lips never leaving the top of your head. You try to pull yourself from his embrace because he should be the one being comforted, not you. But he does not let you go, instead he just holds you as close to him as he can.

“When Rex found me,” Echo stopping to take a deep breath, “he told me y’know, about you.” Feeling your back stiffen, he runs soothing circles into your back. “I never meant to hurt you like that. Believe me.”

“I just,” he sighs, “a part of me was scared.” His hand weaves into your hair. “I thought you wouldn’t want me anymore now that I’m,” his voice trails off, but you both know the word he fails to say.

Not the same.

With your head against Echo’s chest, you could hear the steady beating of his heart, you could feel the rise and fall of his chest, and the warmth from his body. Your words are mumbled against his chest.

“What did you say?”

“I said,” moving so your face was visible, “I don’t care.”

“I don’t care?” He repeats, brows furrowed in confusion.

“I don’t care about how you look. What I care about is you. Your heart, your kindness, the love you have for your brothers. I love how smart you are, and how loyal you are to those that you care about.”

Echo takes in a sharp breath. You pause, looking into the eyes of a man that has been broken, a man who has been slowly repairing what was broken.

“I love you.” You say, licking your lips, “and I will always love you.”

His lips crash onto yours, and your teeth clash from the force behind his kiss. Your arms hold his face towards yours. Once the need for air outweighs the need to keep kissing Echo, you move closer to the pillows at the head of the bed.

“Let’s go to bed.” Echo moves to join you, and soon he’s nestled into your arms.

“I love you,” is all that he says before he falls asleep.

[hellowkatey]

Febuwhump Day 28

Prompt: “you have to let me go”

Read on AO3

We Rise and We Fall and We Break

The winds of the sandstorm howl against the sturdy walls of Obi-Wan's dwelling on the hill. Like many other days when he is confined indoors due to the less than pleasant weather on Tatooine, he tries to use the time to meditate. Yoda's insistence that he can speak with his long-dead master still lingers on his mind, but he is yet to actually hear his placid, deep voice or see his dark eyes, always seeming to see things that no one else can.

Sometimes he thinks his exile is making him cynical. As much as he doesn’t want to doubt the old master, it's been years since the Empire rose, and he hasn't heard a thing from the ghost of the man Qui-Gon Jinn used to be.

But he sits down in the center of his tiny living room atop a cushion designated for such meditative activities. Obi-Wan closes his eyes and breathes deeply to slow the distraction of his pounding heart.

The Force isn't the same as it was before the Republic fell. Today it feels even worse, even more muted and distant and only barely in his grasp. Obi-Wan longs for the days when the Force felt like a constant companion-- a trusty light in the dark whenever he needed it. Now it is only a faint flame on the verge of burning out.

Though the Force is hesitant at first, it soon receives him, pulling him fully under into his meditative landscape. Sometimes he finds himself back at the Temple during a time when the halls were filled with Jedi and the galaxy was the embodiment of light. Other times he is nowhere particular, but a grassy field beside a placid lake where the sun is warm and the breeze is comfortable. A perfect place to find his calm and dig deep into weaving through the strands of life and power within the Force.

But today he finds himself in a place he doesn't often go. Streams of light shine through the ornate windows in the palace of Sundari, sending a rainbow of every color across the floors and wall. Obi-Wan kneels in the center, not anymore in his desert garb, but the snug fit of Mandalorian armor.

Oh, he thinks, pushing up to his feet. He removes the helmet, taking in the unobstructed view of the empty throne room. This is a vision, then.

Obi-Wan has always been prone to visions, but it has been many months since was last pulled into such a vivid scene. But he does know there is nothing much he can do, besides let it play out.

"Ben," a soft, sweet voice he has longed for many years whispers, and he turns to find Satine standing only meters away.

"Satine," he breathes, his voice equally as soft. And while he longs to run to her, take her in his arms, and hope that the Force grants him a moment of unadulterated peace, he hesitates. He is here for a reason, wearing the armor he was wearing when… Obi-Wan looks around for others that could be present, but they still remain alone. Satine repeats the nickname she gave him in their youth, making it sound like something more than what the locals of Tatooine whisper when he passes.

He figures their time is limited, so he goes to her, letting himself revel in the moment of getting to draw her into him and feel her warmth against his cheek. If only this blasted suit of armor weren't in the way.

"Satine, I want to tell you--"

She presses her fingers to his lips, staring up at him with those light blue eyes that could send him to his knees in an instant. There are so many things he wants to tell her that he never got the chance to.

First of all being: I love you.

The second, I'm sorry.

But she doesn't give him the chance.

"You are holding back, my dear Obi-Wan."

"Holding back?" His eyebrows crease. "Holding back from what?"

"Holding back your emotions. Your grief. You must let it all go."

This is not what he wanted to talk about in his reunion with the woman he once loved. This is not the conversation he wished to have. But she is a figment of the Force, and he knows this. Deep down, he does. But oh, how he wishes things were different.

"I have given up… everything," he replies, surprised by the ache in his chest when he says that aloud. "Satine... what more do I have to lose?"

She pulls away from him, taking his hands in hers so they are an arms length away from one another. It reminds of him of when they would dance-- using it as a way to hold one another closely without the scrutiny of whoever may be watching.

"You have to let me go," she whispers, but he realizes it isn't really her speaking.

Or it is, but it's more than that.

Satine is not just Satine. She is Ahsoka, the padawan of his padawan he failed more than once, and she paid the price for it. She is Cody. Rex. Every clone that ever served under him, served for him, died for him. He couldn't help them in the end. She's Padmé, one of the only senators he trusted wholeheartedly besides Bail Organa. She is also Bail Organa. She's the other council members who spent their final months as holograms and their final hours as far from their home as possible. She's every Jedi, every padawan and youngling and Force-sensitive throughout the galaxy. Every person who died for the Republic or because of the war.

She's Anakin. The man he used to be. His brother, padawan, and son.

Obi-Wan's throat feels as tight as his chest now, and his hands slip from hers. But it isn't really her anymore because though her face is there, her voice is the voice of millions that cry out because of his failures.

"You have to let us all go," she says.

"And why should I?"

"Your story is not over yet, my dear. Balance must be--"

"Balance," he chuckles. "balance. You tell me of balance but you forget that is a prophesy I have heard too many times. I was chosen to guide the Chosen One once before and look where that got us. Anakin…" he swallows hard. "Anakin turned to the dark side. Ahsoka is dead. You--you're dead."

"Are we ever truly dead, though, Obi-Wan? How am I here with you now then?" Satine reaches for his hand, but he knows he will receive no further comfort from the ghost of her touch.

"You are the Force, Satine."

"Aren't we all though? The Force is in all of us. Through life and through death alike."

Obi-Wan shakes his head. "Now you're sounding like--"

"Qui-Gon." they say in unison. And he looks up at her, her eyes twinkling at him in the way they do when she knows something he doesn't. "Is that what this is about?" he asks. "Is that why you've brought me here?"

"What is this place to you, Obi-Wan?" she asks, walking past him and toward the throne that she once sat upon.

"The place I held you as you died."

"Wrong." She turns, and as she does the landscape changes.

War. War wages on the other side of the wall that now has ceased to exist. Mandalorians on jetpacks soar across the sky, the reds and blues and greens of blaster shots illuminating the clouds of smoke that billow from where bombs were dropped in the streets.

It's been years since he last has seen war and yet, it feels like only yesterday he was running into another battle. His adrenaline spikes at the very sight.

"This is the place you made a choice."

He walks up next to her, and the moment returns to him. Waiting to make his escape from Mandalore, stricken with grief and shock at Satine's horrific death in his arms just a few hours earlier.

There have been a few moments where the anger and pain have bubbled in the pit of Obi-Wan's stomach and darkness lingered closer than it ever has. This moment… walking out of the palace after watching her murder at the hands of Maul was the moment he nearly gave in to the dark temptation. It was a repeat of Qui-Gon's death-- down to the saber through the stomach-- and yet again all he could do was watch hopelessly.

"But I didn't," he says to himself.

"You didn't."

"So that is why I'm here? To remember the worst moment of my life as though I don't see it in my dreams every night?"

"My darling," Satine's hand slips into his. "You are more important than you realize. The Force has dealt you a life of sadness, and still, you shine bright in the light."

"Yet it wasn't enough."

Satine turns to him, tugging his arm softly to turn him toward her. Her hand reaches up to cup his cheek, making him look at her. A strand of her blonde hair slips from its place, and he brushes it behind her ear. Some habits never die.

"The galaxy is not lost, Obi-Wan. I know you know this. You just need to let go. Let it all go, and trust in the Force."

"Satine…"

"Forgive yourself."

His voice is merely a whisper against the blaster fire. "I'm not sure I can do that."

She smiles at him, raising up on the tips of her toes and pressing her lips to his cheek. Softly. A touch as light as a hummingbird against the delicate petals of a flower, but it sends warmth through his body.

"The Obi-Wan I knew," she whispers. "would find a way."

He closes his eyes, letting her smooth voice fall over him like a warm blanket. Obi-Wan can feel her touch cease, her presence fade, and he knows well enough that when his eyes open he won't be on Sundari and she won't be in his arms anymore.

A terrible shame it will be, but feeling loss is like breathing to Obi-Wan now, and when he opens his eyes he feels neither the tug of grief or the emptiness of being alone.

He does, however, still stand in the palace of Sundari. It seems the Force isn't through with him quite yet.

"So what," he says into the empty room. The war is now gone, and night has fallen, and he is alone again. "Is this some sort of time out? Leaving me here until I fall to your whims?"

Nobody answers, because of course, nobody would. He is the only one here.

It's still a rather suggestive move by the Force. You need to let me go. Let us go.

While usually, Obi-Wan would bend to the whims of the Force without hesitation, what it is asking of him feels impossible. He doesn't feel he deserves the comfort of forgiveness.

It's an impossible task-- he cannot find the path to commune with Qui-Gon without letting go, but right now all he wants is the guidance of his master to help him figure out just how to let go.

"You could grant me a mulligan?" he says to the void. "I just need… help on this one. I cannot keep doing this alone."

It's why Jedi train in pairs. Work together. There is strength in numbers, strength in teams. He and Anakin alone were a force to be reckoned with during the war, powerful on their own and unstoppable together.

He mourns having someone by his side. Having Anakin by his side. Maybe if he held him closer he wouldn't have strayed so far.

That's the root of it all, isn't it? Obi-Wan's one task, the one promise he made to Qui-Gon as he passed, was to train Anakin. Lead him to bring balance in the Force. And so all of this-- the war, the Empire, the Jedi crumbling-- is because he failed Anakin and failed Qui-Gon and subsequently failed the galaxy.

"How in blazes am I supposed to let this go?" his voice raises, cracking in its apex, and he paces.

The Obi-Wan I knew would find a way.

Well Satine, the Obi-Wan you knew was a very different man.

A younger man. More naïve and filled with hope that things will turn out okay. That man is gone, or at least, buried too deep to vocalize his opinion.

Find a way, the Force whispers, and tears sprout in his eyes.

"Where do I even start, though?"

The energy of the Force swells, and Obi-Wan feels eyes on him. He turns, but where he expects to see someone standing, the air is empty. His eyes shift downward, and staring back at him is a young boy. Big blue eyes, wide and round. Filled with youthful innocence. Obi-Wan takes in the boy's spikey auburn hair. The faint freckles across his cheeks, and the robes that are a little too short at the ankles.

Obi-Wan Kenobi looks at himself. A younger version of himself. By the absence of the braid over his shoulder, himself at around the age of 12.

"Master," his youngling-self says, bowing with reverence. Obi-Wan stares back at him, dumbfounded. The Force is really going for the heavy hitters today it seems.

"Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, master?"

"What… what am I-- what are you doing here?"

He looks at him with perfect serenity. "Master Yoda says I am too impulsive. My emotions are getting the best of me," he glances to the floor. "Master Jinn passed me over again."

Obi-Wan nearly chokes on his own tongue. He lets out a shaky breath and drops to one knee so he is eye level with… himself. It's a strange sensation, but he remembers this period of his life well. The uncertainty that he would one day become the knight he thought he was destined to be.

"I did not know this when I was your age, young one, but to be a Jedi is not to be unfeeling. It is merely that you can control your emotions, feel them, and then let them stay in the past that you have left behind."

Obi-Wan understands what this is. He sees the parallel, annoying as it is, and he can hear the Force warm around him as he says the words aloud. I didn't realize the energy of the universe could have a sense of humor.

"And what of Master Jinn? Will I become a Jedi knight?"

Obi-Wan smiles softly. It's almost like his entire life flashes before him in an instant, from his first memories at the Temple to setting up his new home on Tatooine. All that has happened has lead to this moment. It has been for a reason, as hard to see as it may be.

What he does know is he does need the guidance of his master, and the only way to reach that point is to follow his own advice.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you will grow up to be a great Jedi knight if you trust in the Force. And I have on good authority, that you will find your way."

He can feel the pressure releasing from his shoulders, the tension in his back easing. And as he stands and his youngling form dissolves in the landscape, Obi-Wan looks around at the stained transperisteel of the windows of the palace.

They are now more familiar. The silhouette of The Negotiator flying through a star-lit sky. Cody holding out his lightsaber, that classic wry look on his face. Ahsoka's turned back walking down the steps of the Temple. A crowd of Togrutas. Satine reaching out for him, her face pale and a deep stain on her stomach. Mustafar. The Lars homestead. Himself as Rako Hardeen, fighting against Anakin. Adi Gallia lying atop her funeral pyre. Qui-Gon's wide eyes with a lightsaber through his abdomen.

He walks through the throne room, seeing these scenes and feeling the range of intense emotions as though they are happening to him all over again. But as he passes, he offers them back to the Force, apologizing to those and hearing them granting their forgiveness. To hear their voices… to see their faces, even in such an abstract form is enough to send tears tumbling down his cheeks. As Obi-Wan reaches the last window, he looks at the face of Qui-Gon Jinn as he stands with his hands on the shoulders of a little blonde boy. Nine-year-old Anakin with his bright blue eyes and wild spirit stares back at Obi-Wan.

"I am so sorry," he says, his voice cracking. "I will make things right."

And from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, he feels the embrace of the Force, and a warm, familiar voice ring out--both a shout and a whisper and the friendly tone of a friend.

"My padawan… you have already begun to do so."

[danwhobrowses]

20 AEW Dark and Elevation Regulars that AEW should sign

Now I know, AEW has a very stacked roster, in fact I've considered writing an essay on the risk of AEW's growing roster being top-heavy

I mean we've barely scraped the potential of Brian Cage, Scorpio Sky, Wardlow, Sammy Guevara, TH2, Sonny Kiss, Matt Sydal, Proud and Powerful, Nick Comoroto, Will Hobbs, Serena Deeb (who I know is injured atm), and many more. But with Rampage oncoming maybe there is room for them.

But, we'll stick a pin in that for now, because tonight is AEW's 100th Episode of Dark. A big deal still considering it's one of AEW's 2 weekly youtube wrestling shows, and one of AEW's many Youtube weekly shows if you include vlogs such as BTE, SammysVlogs, Ethan Page's vlog and the AEW-promotional Countdown to and Outside the Ring with Lexy Nair segments and the Unrestricted Podcast. In the pandemic era, Dark became a home to several indie talents in need for work, some got signed but not all, so I'm gonna list 10 men's and 10 women's wrestlers who were regulars on Dark and Elevation who AEW can and should still sign

Note: I will not be including wrestlers who look set for regularity, so Wheeler Yuta, Jora Johl, Fuego and the Wingmen won't be on the list, as will any AEW Women's tournament entrants (Maki Itoh, Madi Wrenkowski, Nicole Savoy etc.). Danny Limelight and Konosuke Takeshita are also signed to MLW and DDT Pro just fyi

10 Men AEW should sign

The men's division is already stacked, and it has a lot of up and comers too, but there are still a few areas where AEW's Dark stalwarts have proven they can fill a void for.

Honorable mentions for: JDX, El Australiano, M'Badu, Jake St. Patrick, Brick Aldridge, Megabyte Ronnie, Suge 'Pineapple Pete' D and Vary Morales. Also Kidd Bandit, but he hasn't wrestled on Dark or Elevation so I couldn't add him in.

10. Marty Casaus Better known as Marty 'the Moth' Martinez from Lucha Underground, Marty trained with AEW after some time out with injury and made some appearances on Dark. As the Moth, Marty demonstrated his character work as a gross heel, but his size was also an asset to his disturbed and near-psychotic persona.

9. Dean Alexander An alumnus of the Nightmare Factory, Alexander has frequented on Dark and Elevation usually in tag action where he hasn't been able to get his dickhead persona across. He is your traditional cocky heel which in the Nightmare Factory showcases has led to his hilarious downfalls, even losing to Negative One in his multiple failures to win in the Main Event of these showcases. Frankly, this is what Baron Corbin should be like if you're gonna mock him, he's also very impressive in the ring.

8. Dillon McQueen Another Nightmare Factory alum, Dillon McQueen has also only been used for jobbing, but his character is actually great. The King of Queens, Dillon brims charisma that would be a winner for crowds, but he has a babyface fire to him as well, easily could be a rising talent with the right training.

7. Dan Barry To be honest, I like his Hawaiian Shirts. He has a lot of experience in the indies and can work in a similar way Colt Cabana works balancing serious and comedy wrestling, would just be pretty cool to see him more.

6. & 5. TNT (Terrence and Terrell Hughes) Sons of D-Von Dudley, TNT have had less appearances on AEW as of recent, which is a shame, because they can definitely be developed as some of the next gen tag teams the Acclaimed and Blonds have been. AEW haven't shied from legacy wrestlers in the past, and the duo definitely have potential.

4. Chandler Hopkins Chandler Hopkins has shown up to be squashed by the big men a lot, but somehow he also manages to eke out some strong entertainment and fluid wrestling in it. His match against Brian Cage is an effective example of this. Like Fuego, Chandler is definitely someone you can use on the undercard for some enhancement, maybe even push up once more character comes across.

3. Ryzin Ryzin has stuck with AEW for quite a while now, even having skits on BTE. The Unholy Father however never got a W on AEW, which is a shame because he has character and promo skills in hand. He could easily be a fit for Chaos Project as well or teamed with Abandon in a James Mitchell kinda role.

2. Carlie Bravo One of the first class alums of the Nightmare Factory, Carlie Bravo remains charismatic and athletic in his showings, he even had a great little pairing with Shawn Dean until Dean's signing, I'd love to see them bring that back - two Navy veterans tearing up the tag scene would be pretty awesome.

1. Baron Black Few have stayed the course during the pandemic era like Baron Black. Debuting in April and still yet to get his first win, he was one of the three touted stars by Cody on Sammy's vlog who he encouraged to be booked around the world because of his workrate and skill. If anyone has earned it that isn't named Fuego del Sol (or that other name Cody mentioned), it's Baron Black.

10 Women AEW should sign In contrast to the men's division, AEW's women's roster does look like it could use some buffing, for midcard and even building more stars.

Honorable mentions are plenty in this one, so just missing out are the following: Ashley D'Amboise, Leila Grey, Renee Michelle, Jazmin Allure, Savannah Evans, Willow Nightingale, the Renegade Twins, Holidead, Kenzie Paige, Jennacide and Brooke Havok (who I would guess will be signed once her leg recovers).

10. Ashley Vox With or without her Sea Stars tag partner, Delmi Exo, Ashley Vox has proven herself a frequent flier for AEW. Talented in singles and tag competition. She also has a strong rapport with many of AEW's current roster.

9. Alex Gracia The Pink Dream has been on ROH as of recent but remains a freelancer, her last appearance being a squash from Dr. Britt Baker DMD. AEW must've been high on Gracia at one point because they gave her a title shot on Dynamite. With experience in Shimmer and Stardom, Gracia would definitely be a worthy addition.

8. Tesha Price Another woman who AEW put on Dynamite rare times, Tesha proved herself to play face and heel during her time on Dark and Elevation. As a heel she showed a lot of fire especially against KiLynn King and Ryo Mizunami, the Psycho Sweetheart definitely has something she can give to the division - who are tbf lacking in heels right now.

7. Vertvixen I am not sure what it is about Vertvixen specifically, but whenever I see her I think she has the look, not to mention the athleticism to boot. Her triple threat on MPW against Jennacide and Jazmin Allure was a definite highlight as of recent.

6. Miranda Alize A former Mae Young Classic competitor, like Jennacide and Gracia she's recently been used by ROH, but she is definitely a confident wrestler and does not shy from the intergender matches either, having fought Laredo Kid and Danny Limelight. She's worked with many impressive wrestlers too, including an Impact Knockouts Title match against Jordynne Grace and matches against Deonna, Taya and Tessa.

5. Reka Tehaka The Samoan Savage may've debuted on AEW's first ever house show, but regular Dark and Elevation appearances have been met with positive reactions. Being partly trained by the Nightmare Factory, Tehaka has done well to establish herself despite only wrestling for a year and a half, she could definitely be a prospect.

4. Veda Scott Okay, so I cheated a little by saying no competitors, but I could not leave out Veda on this list. She has in-ring talent and intergender experience - tagging with her Speedball husband - but on AEW Dark and the Deadly Draw she proved herself excellent on commentary. A female voice in the booth even for just the women's matches would go a long way for the division and Veda's the perfect voice for it.

3. Dani Jordyn The Mean Girl is definitely someone you can call a regular on Dark and Elevation. She works hard and works with a lot of main roster talent, and I don't think I've seen her put on a bad match. So it would be nice to reward her with a contract.

2. Diamante It still baffles me actually that Diamante has yet to become All Elite. Deadly Draw winner and involved in a lot of the Elevation/Dark women's feuds, Diamante has a wealth of knowledge and experience under her belt. She's still popular with fans and can easily step back into her LAX days by pairing with the Inner Circle. Few unsigned talent have won as much as her too, I would say it's when rather than if, but when is taking a long ass time.

1. KiLynn King The three names Cody praised highly were Fuego, Baron Black and KiLynn King, so I think above all else they should be given contracts. In fact, I was surprised King wasn't on the Dark 100 card, by virtue that although King has shown up on Dynamite a few times, she has been on Dark and Elevation 41 times since debuting in May 2020, it was a shock that someone so regular wasn't on the card. King showed she could work as the bully heel but also as a charismatic babyface, even having a little faction brewing with Swole and Red Velvet as RSK, but when crowds came back we seemed to drop the potential of AEW's first all-women faction. King is over with fans...so long as you don't put her against someone as over as Thunder Rosa, and she has put on some lowkey bangers during her time on AEW, especially the one against Riho. Tall and powerful, but fun in the ring and outside the ring with clips of her in the crowd chanting and even vibing to Angelico's music. King would definitely be on the top of my list of AEW Dark regulars that deserve a contract.

I'm sure I might've missed some and opinions may differ, but I think these lot would definitely be able to fit into AEW effortlessly thanks to their time on Dark and Elevation. Many of whom could be used to build or become future champions themselves, and I hope still to see more of them beyond Dark 100.

[levitatingbiscuits]

Um, if you still want prompts: codywan, blending in by making people uncomfortable with physical intimacy?

“Blast,” Obi-Wan said. “Looks like someone’s not happy we’re here.” He nodded his head at a few rough-looking specimens were eyeing them from the bar, fingering their blasters and muttering to the barkeep.

He had been tracking a lead on one of the senators’ multitude of would-be assassins, as he so often seemed to these days. Every time Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant he had another three missions lined up for him, whereas Anakin seemed to always have enough leave to attend Senator Amidala’s various soirees. 

He really was getting too obvious; a few concerned knights and masters had told him that young Ahsoka spent most of her time in the Temple alone in the archives or tagging along with Master Koon or various other masters who made time for her in their off hours. A varied education was of course valuable (Obi-Wan had spent quite a lot of time with Yoda and his friends’ masters as a padawan, himself), but he was concerned that Ahsoka was learning far more about how to be a warrior than how to be a Jedi from Anakin. 

But at this point there was little he could do; Anakin was a knight, not a padawan, and Obi-Wan was currently in a shady nightclub on Corellia getting dirty looks from the regulars he’d been asking pointed questions to. 

“It seems there’s nothing for it,” Obi-Wan sighed, making to approach them and hopefully negotiate his way out of a fight, but a hand grabbed his arm before he could.

“Sir,” Cody said, looking dashing but supremely uncomfortable in the sleek vest and tight shirt (complete with a plunging neckline) that was in fashion for Corellian pilots at the moment. Obi-Wan understood; he usually never left the Temple without at least three layers of tunics on, but for missions like these discretion was the better part of valor. Typically Vos or another shadow would’ve been tapped for such a thing, but apparently the chancellor had (yet again) requested him personally, as he often did for off-planet missions.

“Yes, Cody?” Obi-Wan stressed. Cody had insisted on coming along, and Obi-Wan had insisted in turn that they not blow their cover by using titles. Cody was, perhaps predictably, struggling.

“If you go over now you’re going to start a fight,” Cody hissed, “and then everything will go to hell and I won’t be able to keep up like Skywalker always does because I’m not insane.”

Obi-Wan blinked, thrown (and perhaps a little affronted, though Cody had a point). “And what do you suggest?” 

Cody’s eyes flicked over his shoulder, then he blurted, “Dance with me.”

Obi-Wan blinked, his traitorous heart skipping a beat. “During an investigation?”

Cody’s face did something complicated, but there was a doomed resolve in his eyes as if he was about to face down a firing squad. He took Obi-Wan by the wrists and dragged him out onto the dance floor. 

Their friends at the bar had started shouldering past drunken, gyrating clubgoers toward them, which was evidently what had caused Cody’s alarm. Obi-Wan pushed past his own reticence--he should not let his... one-sided attachment to Cody get in the way of their duty, and if Cody wanted to avoid a fight in this environment, Obi-Wan would defer to him.

So he grabbed Cody, one hand low on his back and the other on his nape, and started dancing.

“Sir?” Cody yelped, face crimson and stiff as a board. He might have flinched away if Obi-Wan hadn’t just pressed closer.

“You asked me to dance, Cody, so I’m dancing,” Obi-Wan said, trying very hard to keep his voice light and unaffected. He might have only danced at diplomatic banquets the past few years, but as a padawan he and his friends had sneaked out to the lower level bars and nightclubs on more than a few occasions. 

He’d have to be careful not to fall back into old habits--Cody was his comrade and subordinate, and no matter Obi-Wan’s personal feelings Cody didn’t feel the same. But if they were to fool their new friends he’d need some cooperation.

“You have to touch me if we’re going to dance,” Obi-Wan whispered into his ear, beard brushing his jaw, and Cody’s hands came up lightning quick to grip hard at his hips. He still wasn’t moving.

“Aw, you pulled a shy one,” a gorgeous Twi’lek dancing next to them cooed, voice loud enough to be heard over the pounding music, an equally attractive human man and woman in each arm. “He’s delicious. Want to dance with us instead, pet?”

Cody shook his head rapidly. “No, thank you, sir,” he managed, and might have saluted if his hands hadn’t been glued to Obi-Wan’s waist.

“He’s with me,” Obi-Wan said with a sharp, rather unfriendly grin. He pulled Cody even closer, until they were pressed together from hips to chest. Cody shuddered against him, and Obi-Wan resolved to apologize profusely later on. His commander was clearly incredibly uncomfortable.

Obi-Wan managed to coax Cody into dancing, so close that it was more like grinding (albeit far too awkward to be as enjoyable as Obi-Wan used to find that sort of thing). Cody’s face was so red that Obi-Wan was worried he was going to get overheated. He tried to ignore the steadily-piling evidence that Cody disliked his closeness, disliked his touch. It was perhaps the most proper dancing Obi-Wan had ever engaged in at a club, and people were starting to notice.

“This isn’t working,” he said, as quietly as one could while still being heard over the music. “We’re just drawing more attention to ourselves.”

One of Cody’s arms abruptly circled his waist, the other hand coming up to press at his spine, and suddenly Obi-Wan was looking right into his amber eyes. His face was still red and he still looked horrifically embarrassed, but his gaze was dark and intent. 

“I’m gonna try something,” he murmured. “You can court-martial me later, Obi-Wan, but will you trust me to do this now?”

“Yes, of course, what--” Obi-Wan began, and then Cody’s lips were on his.

Even if he was uncomfortable with dancing, it was clear that this was an area Cody excelled at. Obi-Wan had to clutch at his solid back to stay steady, Cody’s mouth devouring his, stealing his breath and lighting up his nerves until he could barely focus on anything else. 

He made to pull back, to gather himself and catch his breath (and perhaps check to see where their pursuers were and if they had their weapons out), but Cody just followed him until Obi-Wan had to cling to his shoulders to stay upright. He felt Cody spread his fingers against his back and easily adjust to supporting the majority of Obi-Wan’s weight; he might literally sweep him off his feet if this continued.

Someone grabbed Obi-Wan’s shoulder and tried to yank him off, but Cody finally broke the kiss just to yank him back and snarl, in a passable Corellian accent, “The kriff is your problem? You looking to eat my blaster, wermo?”

Obi-Wan couldn’t actually see his assailant, because Cody was wisely pressing his much more recognizable face into his neck. Perhaps that was for the best; Obi-Wan was feeling a bit faint.

“Isn’t that that Jedi--”

“What kind of Jedi would be sucking face in a kriffin’ Corellian cantina?” Cody retorted. “Now kark off before I feed you your own karking teeth.”

At this point other disgruntled dancers started yelling and heckling them, and their assailant slunk away with his tail between his legs, both metaphorically and literally.

“Your boy’s got bite,” the Twi’lek woman from before laughed, watching with interest, and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but agree.

They continued dancing just long enough to avoid looking like they were running away. Anger apparently distracted Cody enough for him to become more at ease, which Obi-Wan wasn’t sure if he should be grateful for or not. They eventually peeled off and left to follow a new lead, hopefully without any angry, suspicious patrons this time.

They walked in silence for a minute, Obi-Wan wishing that Corellia was a bit less hot. The muggy night air was doing little to cool his hot face, which would be even more obvious than Cody’s on his pale skin.

“I’m very sorry you had to do that, commander,” Obi-Wan said at last, once he was sure his voice wouldn’t crack.

Cody tensed beside him, still close enough that Obi-Wan could feel it. “Sir, I’m the one who came up with the idea to dance, and I’m the one who... uh.”

“But still, I forced you into that position,” he said wretchedly, looking anywhere but at the commander. Gorgeous, amazing, duty-bound Cody. How could Obi-Wan take advantage of his loyalty and dedication? “If you no longer feel comfortable working with me, I’ll get you transferred wherever you want, I swear it--”

And then Cody took his face in his hands and kissed him again, in full view of everyone walking by. It was softer, but no less passionate than the one before, and he kept kissing him until Obi-Wan gathered the strength to pull away.

“Cody... you don’t have to--”

“I wanted to,” Cody interrupted, voice firm and eyes molten. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t want to, sir. O-Obi-Wan.” He broke eye contact to duck his head. “If you’ll still have me as your commander, I would be honored to continue serving with you.”

He should say no. He was attached, and Cody’s direct superior, and Cody might have been mentally and physically in this thirties but he was chronologically twelve, for the Force’s sake, but--

But Obi-Wan was so happy he could hardly speak.

“If you’re sure,” he said at last, and the grin he got back--shy and sweet and beautiful--was blinding.

[legobiwan]

Challenge!: AU where Anakin is held up by traffic in RotS and so Palpatine is killed by Mace but, somehow, things go worse.

Okay, but for some reason this makes me laugh as I’m imagining Anakin using the Star Wars equivalent of Waze and just sitting in his speeder, cursing at the incompetence of both his traffic app and whoever redesigned the Coruscant space lanes. For Force’s sake, they just expanded both ways by four lanes and there’s still traffic!

That bit of hilarity aside - 

The lazy way out of this situation would be to assume that Palpatine had an auto-ignite set up for Order 66 in the event of his death, so the Jedi would have been massacred regardless, minus Yoda, Obi-wan, Anakin, Mace, and a handful of others. 

But let’s make it a little more challenging - let’s assume that Order 66 doesn’t happen, as it sets up a very tricky situation for the Jedi.

As we saw in Season 7, Mace and co. were debating a direct takeover of the Senate if Palpatine didn’t step down after Obi-wan nailed Grievous. 

But now with the new information that Palpatine was the Sith Lord - would the Jedi allow the Senate to hold elections as normal or would they feel the need to intervene with the politics? Which would set up some the populace and the government turning against the Jedi, as they were already primed to do so and you have to think they wouldn’t look too kindly on mystic powerful space monks assassinating the leader of the Republic and then taking control of said government.

So now you have a pissed off populace, a pissed off military (ie, people like Tarkin), a really confused set of clones, and an unstable Anakin whose wife would be very upset about the Jedi, again, assassinating the leader of the Republic and then taking control of said government.

And of course, since Palpatine had consolidated power for so many years, there’s now this vacuum and we all know how political vermin love a vacuum. 

The Confederacy, meanwhile, is leaderless, with both Grievous and Dooku dead, but without Palpatine to draw them into the Empire, what do they do? Meaning the war, to some degree, continues. Or the Confederacy finally just secedes, as the Republic is having way too many internal issues to deal with keeping itself whole.

Meaning - crime, all around, is waaaaaay up. 

Also meaning, the Jedi get a lot of blame. 

The populace needs a scapegoat, it needs justice or else the tension is going to destroy what’s left of the Republic from the inside. Mace is an obvious choice, as he was the one to actually kill Palpatine, and knowing Mace, he would stride into the middle of the Senate, hold his head high, and deny nothing, as what he did was, in his mind, right, for the galaxy at large, right for the Jedi, and justice. He will take his penalty, knowing he acted for the Light.

Tarkin is pushing for the death penalty, of course. If he did so for a teenager on flimsy evidence, you are damn sure he’s going to gun for a Jedi Council member who subverted the rule of law.

Not to mention they were literally spying on the Chancellor before “executing” him. 

While that’s going on, Anakin has no idea where to turn. He was beginning to have the inkling Palpatine wasn’t as good as he thought, but at the same time Mace killed him, in cold blood, had Anakin spy on the Chancellor and does that mean Anakin would be in trouble, as well? Which, we all know how Anakin gets when he feels he’s in trouble (ie, he denies and runs.) And in this case, the consequences might actually be as bad as imagined. 

Anakin wants to leave the Order, leave Coruscant altogether, take Pamdé and their unborn child with him and just - go back to Naboo, or anywhere, really. Padmé, of course, is not going to leave her post when the Republic looks to be crumbling from the inside. This causes...problems. There’s no Sith Lord to take Anakin under their wing while he’s this unstable...

Or is there? Let us not forget at this very moment, Ahsoka is bringing Maul back to Coruscant with part of the 501st. And Rex gets the message that Mace has killed the Chancellor. 

Ahsoka has no idea what to think. She didn’t trust the Council, but to think it would go this far...

Does she bring back Maul now? Can she even trust the Council to deal with Maul if they were willing to stoop to political assassination? Did Obi-wan know about this when they talked? Did Anakin?

I feel like this could be a conduit for...dark!Ahsoka. I mean, Maul is desperate for a partner and now that Ahsoka has learned about Palpatine’s death, she’s really not wanting to go back to Coruscant and is rethinking everything Maul told her.

So I guess what I’m saying is that Ahsoka frees Maul and they decide to work together for the time being, Or let me rephrase this. Maul pretends to be aghast that Palpatine is dead and doesn’t tell Ahsoka Palpatine’s true identity because if he gets Ahsoka on his side...well, he’s not going to argue with that.

This leaves Rex very, very confused but he trusts Ahsoka knows she had a bad time of it with the Jedi, and he’s willing to go along with this, for now. 

Also, now that Dooku, Grievous, and Palpatine are dead - what become of the clones? And that cues a kind of existential crisis for them as the Republic is so busy trying to stabilize itself, it barely has time to deal with the war. 

So the clones go a myriad of ways - some stay to fight for the Republic, some go off to life live, some join the Confederacy, some get into a life of crime - all never knowing that that chip is still inside of them. A chip the Kaminoans know about, a chip Maul has an inkling about. 

Meanwhile, Obi-wan is wrapping up on Utapau when he gets a frantic message from Coruscant that the Chancellor is dead, Mace is under arrest, Anakin has disappeared, and while Ahsoka had reportedly been bringing in Maul, she’s gone AWOL.

Also, he learns from the holonet that he’s not only being subpoenaed for Mace’s case, but also possibly coming under investigation for the multitude of Republic laws he broke in a few months in regards to Mandalore and use of Republic resources and funding. 

Obi-wan, unlike Mace, is not 100% sure he did the right thing, as he knows all his actions stemmed from attachment rather than justice, and is not 100% certain he is going to return to Coruscant quite yet. His own testimony, if he didn’t lie, would be damning towards Mace and besides, Mace could extricate himself, if needed. Anakin and Ahsoka, however, he worries deeply for.

Cody, being the stalwart companion he is, comes along for the ride. Someone needs to protect the General’s ass, anyway. 

So what we have is a falling Ahsoka who is coming under the sway of Maul, an unbalanced Anakin who Maul would prefer to kill and get out of the way, and a very uneasy Obi-wan who is likely to, once again, go off on his own to protect the ones he loves. 

Not to mention the Republic is fractured, trust in the Jedi is nonexistent, and this whole set of events also sets a schism within the Jedi themselves, which could cause a break in the Order (not necessarily Dark Siders, but ones who feel the need to branch off from the Council). 

The Republic is wholly unstable, Tarkin is attempting a soft military coup, and the Confederacy is left to do what it pleases. 

So I don’t know if this is worse, but it’s certainly not better. Ahsoka and Maul are likely to do some damage and a turned!Ahsoka would want some kind of revenge on the Jedi. Tarkin’s military coup succeeds and he begins to wipe out his political enemies, sending Padmé into hiding with her soon-to-born twins. That storyline could go from okay to truly tragic. Anakin is just...missing. No one knows what happened to him. The Jedi Order is falling apart from the inside. Mace is set to executed. Obi-wan is trying to pick up the pieces but he can barely get handle on one piece. 

And if I really wanted to ratchet it up from there:

Consider this - the Republic is crumbling, visibly, and there is no more center of power. I have a feeling some friends (ie, not friends) in Wild Space and beyond might like to take advantage of this opportunity. 

*cue a Yuuzhan Vong/Grysk invasion and it all gets shot to hell in a variety of new, awful ways*

(However, if the Yuuzhan Vong do invade, that means we get Thrawn, at least. Maybe the only upside?)

My real question is this: does Obi-wan or does Anakin join Ahsoka and Maul? And they would both have reasons to do so and to reject them. A triumvirate of Obi-wan, Ahsoka, and Maul turned would be...scary. Adding Anakin into that mix - I doubt there’s anything they couldn’t do.

[glimmerglanger]

You asked for this, friend: In the oof!au, Obes is gonna need a new lightsaber isn't he? Or at least will need to heal Anakin's. You have any ideas how that goes?

HE SURE IS. I actually think it’s one of the things he gets around to earlier (so, chronologically he starts working on it before the arm is completed, but finished after). SO:

~~~~~~~~~~

So many things were broken.

Obi-Wan felt the cracks, the aching hurts through the Force; it was a constant kind of pressure, always there. He felt it from his men - even from Rex and Ahsoka, who were not, technically, his, but - and himself and…

And even the lightsaber that he kept in his quarters.

He did not know what Anakin had done to his lightsaber. Perhaps there’d been some grand plan in store for it. Perhaps Anakin had planned to use it to cut off his legs. Or to kill him, when Anakin ran out of ways to amuse himself with Obi-Wan’s body.

Whatever his intentions had been, they could no longer come to fruition. It was gone, along with everything else once placed upon the surface of Mustafar. 

But Anakin’s lightsaber had come with them, had escaped off of the planet and stayed in Obi-Wan’s care. And it radiated agony, out into the Force. It took days - weeks - for Obi-Wan to identify that bit of agony; there was so much else to work through, first.

When he did, he froze for a long moment, staring at the metal cylinder. It was large, larger than he could comfortably hold. Anakin had not been rebuilt to scale, by whatever butchers had tended him. The saber was dark and grim and Obi-Wan did not like to look at it because Anakin had--

Made it the instrument of some much pain and suffering.

Enough so that the agony radiated out of it, still.

Obi-Wan curled his fingers up to his palms. He considered simply putting the thing in an airlock and spacing it, but… He understood the basic process used by the Sith to torture kyber crystals into compliance. He could not, he found, bring himself to abandon yet another wound caused by Anakin. He drew in a sharp breath and, carefully, went about dismantling the device.

It was easy to fall into the habit of breaking down a lightsaber. He had done it so many times in his life. Each lightsaber was different but each was the same, as well. He twisted and tugged and gently placed the pieces as he went, just as though he were repairing his own.

Except his crystal had never been so dull. There was no visible red glow to it, not the way he had half-expected. It simply looked shadowed. It had no shine. And it radiated agony out into the Force, a sense of corruption and wrongness.

“Sh,” Obi-Wan said, plucking the tiny crystal up and placing it in his palm. It barely weighed anything and felt terribly cold against his skin. He curled his fingers around it and cradled it to his chest, curling over, murmuring, “sh, sh.”

#

There were methods to heal a kyber crystal. Obi-Wan had heard of them, once upon a time, ever so long ago. He barely recalled them. He’d been a padawan, when he learned the lore and the rituals, and had not thought them something he needed to commit to memory.

After all, he’d assumed, the library would always be there to review the process.

He was still digging through his memories when someone knocked at his door. He did not have to stretch out his senses through the Force to know that it was Cody. After all, he’d been alone for nearly an hour.

That was, to date, close to a record for them.

Obi-Wan shook that thought away. Healing, he knew, took time. He stood, keeping the crystal tucked against his palm, and went to the door, and nodded, though he was not really hungry, when Cody asked if he wanted to go to the mess.

The crystal burned cold against his palm through the meal.

#

Obi-Wan grew familiar with the cuts and edges of the crystal. He studied it and kept it close and wondered, exactly, how he was supposed to heal it. He meditated upon it, keeping the crystal close, and found it easy to sink down into its presence in the Force.

Something lashed out at him when he did, something sharp edged that slid along his mind. He got the feeling, settled deep in the Force, that it was a strike not meant to cause harm. A warning, instead. 

He exhaled, centering himself and refocusing on the crystal and when it struck at him again, he accepted the pain. Sometimes, he knew, healing required pain. A broken bone could not be set without hurt.

And he knew quite well how to handle pain.

#

The pain radiating out of the crystal did not ease all at once. It faded over time, in bits and snatches, until one morning Obi-Wan woke up and felt no hurt blazing out of it. He uncurled his fingers slowly, and found the crystal clear.

He smiled and curled his fingers closed again, relieved, at least, to have succeeded in fixing something.

He meant, really, to leave things there. The Order had fallen, the Temple had burned, he was...not the warrior he once was. What use did he have, really, for a lightsaber? But that did not stop him from reaching for his belt, more and more often, especially once his prosthetic was completed.

It would always be his first instinct, in a fight, to reach for a lightsaber, to stand as a shield in front of his men. A blaster could kill a man, or at least hurt someone badly enough that they would not rise again.

A lightsaber could deflect a killing blow, could stop a fight before it started.

And so he sighed, eventually, and pulled out the rest of the pieces of Anakin’s lightsaber, frowning over them. They were the wrong size to serve his purposes, but the basic components would work, if he managed to collect enough of what he needed. 

He wondered how difficult it would be to arrange a trip to a market. Or perhaps two.

#

In the end, he made his purchases here and there, while they were going about other business. He thought he’d done a fairly good job keeping his work to himself, at least until Tektek stopped by his side in the mess one day and placed a small spring beside his hand. Obi-Wan had been unable to find one anywhere and looked up, startled.

“It wasn’t hard to make,” Tektek said, gaze cutting to the side, voice quiet. 

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, reaching his new hand out and gently lifting the spring. “I didn’t - you didn’t have to--”

“I wanted to,” Tektek said, and Obi-Wan could not help but noting that their conversation was suddenly drawing a lot of attention. Crys, a table away, had frozen and was staring at them, wide-eyed, as Tektek cleared his throat and said, “Some of us - we have some other parts. If you’d want them.”

Obi-Wan blinked, rapidly, trying to clear away the burn in his eyes. He said, carefully clearing his throat, “I’d - of course I’d want them.”

And by the time he left the mess he had all the pieces he yet needed, held carefully in his hands. He said, softly, to Cody, who walked beside him the entire way, “I didn’t mean to put everyone to any trouble.” 

And Cody hesitated, for just a step, before he slid into motion again and said, “You didn’t.”

Obi-Wan wrinkled his nose. “I--”

“We want - we - it’s good, to help you,” Cody cut in, touching his arm, so softly that Obi-Wan only barely felt it. He came to a stop and purposefully leaned into the touch, hearing Cody’s breath catch a little.

They did nothing but look at one another for a moment, and then Obi-Wan nodded. He said, soft, “I have everything I need now.”

“So you can make one?” Cody asked, and Obi-Wan hesitated another moment before inclining his head, just a little. “Good,” Cody said, and Obi-Wan wished he could agree so whole-heartedly, so easily.

#

In the end, Obi-Wan found reasons to put off the construction, but a brutal fight and then another convinced him he could not wait any longer. He was a steady hand with a blaster. He could fight more than well with nothing but his body.

But…

A lightsaber helped. There was no way to deny it. And so he went back to his quarters, relieved when Cody followed him in and sat down at the table to clean his blaster. Obi-Wan laid out all the pieces and...made himself breathe as he constructed them. 

It did not take long to complete the work. He closed his eyes and felt each piece in the Force, moving them together without touching them. He tested the balance of the completed saber, sliding the Force over each piece of it, feeling the thrum of the crystal inside.

He stretched out his hand and took it from the air, and it fitted perfectly against his palm and his fingers. He opened his eyes and exhaled, and Cody, who had been sitting quietly across the room asked, “Well, are you going to turn it on?”

Obi-Wan stared down at the saber in his grip, heart twisting unpleasantly in his chest. He knew, very well, that a kyber crystal reflected the person it attuned to, and that he had gently replaced Anakin’s impression on the crystal. He’d spent time with it, carried it with him, it would--

It would know him, when he turned the saber on. It would reflect him. Changes and damage and--

He shut his eyes, looking to the side, fingers clenching tight. “Perhaps later,” he rasped out, throat unpleasantly tight, too able to imagine what the blade might tell him about the parts of himself he didn’t want to see, about what Anakin had done to him, really, not on the outside, but inside--

“Sh,” Cody murmured, quiet, and closer. “It’s -- Obi-Wan.” He reached out, carefully, and gripped Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Obi-Wan blinked, could not help but lean into the touch, the comfort Cody was projecting down at him. He looked up, and found Cody watching him. And Cody said, quietly, “Try it now, please.”

Obi-Wan hesitated another moment, but, in truth, putting it off further wouldn’t solve anything. He swallowed and nodded, tried to center himself in the Force and activated the lightsaber and--

He did not intend to sob at the flash of blue light, but the sound escaped his throat, anyway. And Cody was there, curling an arm around his back, murmuring soothing words against his hair as Obi-Wan slumped into him, relief and disbelief and wild joy all swirling within him.