#I enjoyed drawing every single one of these Cody’s

[chiliger]

Cody - Kote - Glory

For Cody Day 2/2/24

(Closeups under the cut)

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Where's Mommy?

Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Part 10

Summary: Wolffe's wife suddenly dies, leaving him a single father in the middle of a war.

Pairing: Wolffe x Lilith Sestri (OFC)

Characters: Wolffe, Cara (child OFC), Comet, Sinker, Boost, Plo Koon

Tags & Warnings: heavy angst, mention of death, off-screen death, spousal death, grief, hurt/comfort, family fluff

Word Count: 1.3k

Author's Note: Things are still crazy right now, but I am managing. Thank you to everyone who has reached out. I appreciate it! This is another transitional chapter. Not much happens, other than the plot moving forward. You know, the meaning of "filler episode" really changes when you write 😅 The chapter isn't exciting or emotional, but it's still important to the overall plot and contains context for future chapters. As always, please enjoy 💚

Beta: @beating-a-dead-plot

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Series Masterlist

The ride over to the Jedi Temple was quiet once Cara settled on Wolffe's lap. Most children lulled to sleep by the hum of a moving ship or speeder, and Cara was no exception. Wolffe didn't mind, though. He preferred her to be asleep and peaceful than awake and chaotic. She'd been through enough already, and yet, the tragedy was nowhere near over. Not by a long shot. Deep down he knew the funeral was going to rip off every bandage he and the others had meticulously placed.

They could lie, dance around the truth, replace facts with illusion, and carefully craft misdirection, but at the end of the day, they couldn't hide it forever. The pain was painted across all of their faces. A grim truth they all knew but refused to acknowledge, even by Wolffe. No one wanted to speak it aloud for fear that maybe, just maybe, if they didn't say it, it wouldn't happen. But while trying to conceal it from Cara, they had disillusioned themselves with their own blank stares and frowns.

Wolffe gazed out the window and watched as other speeders flew by, lost in his thoughts about the future. Not many clones thought about the future, because it wasn't in their brain chemistry to look beyond anything other than their immediate present, but that changed for Wolffe after he met his wife. There was a moment where it felt like he unlocked a part of his brain. The part that wanted to survive and thrive, instead of fight and die. It was a fleeting feeling, but there nonetheless.

He was wondering, not only about the funeral, but about what came after the funeral. What would he do when he received a new assignment? He couldn't stay on Coruscant forever. No clone could. Wolffe scoffed at his own thoughts and corrected himself. Actually, the only clones who could stay on Coruscant forever were the Coruscant Guard. Wolffe thought they were lucky, even if they didn't think they were. Fox would kill to be back on the battlefield in any capacity, and Wolffe would trade his command with Fox’s in a heartbeat.

However, Fox had his own life to lead and his own things to worry about on Coruscant. That was just how life was for the clones. It was a luck of the draw in who got to be a commander and who got to be stationed where. To the Republic, all clones were the same, so to them, it wouldn't matter what clones went where, but to the clones, sometimes, it did matter. Clones who hadn't been around long enough didn't understand, and those who had, didn't live long enough after they found out.

Wolffe was pulled from his thoughts when the speeder braked as they arrived at the Jedi Temple. He peered out of the window at the towering structure and breathed deep as he felt his heart rate increase. He had never been enthralled with the Jedi like other clones; finding their religion strange and their battle tactics even stranger. Perhaps it was the deep-seeded Mandalorian genes coursing through his veins that made him wary of the so-called peacekeepers, even if Rex and Cody tried to convince him otherwise.

The only Jedi Wolffe remotely liked, or even cared about, was his own. General Plo Koon saved him, Boost's, and Sinker's lives, and for that he owed him his undying loyalty. The rest of them he disregarded. He served them as he should, like any good soldier who followed orders, but that didn't mean he had to like them or worship them. It was the Jedi that caused him to lose his first battalion, even though he alone received the demerits for it, much to his general's chagrin.

To stand at the precipice of the Jedi Temple, with the intent to leave his beloved daughter in the care of those Force-wielding wizards, that weren't his general, made his skin crawl. Even with his disdain for the Jedi, it was still better than the alternative of Cara entering the foster care system, or even worse, being left in the care of her grandparents. That thought alone made Wolffe sick. At least with this arrangement, he could come and go within the Jedi Temple without explanation.

"Do you want to put your armor on?" Comet asked from across Wolffe.

Wolffe moved his gaze from the window to look down at Cara, who was still asleep on his lap, and then up at Comet. "Whenever I put my armor on, she thinks I'm leaving."

"Understood," Comet nodded. "I'll have Aug– Warthog bring it to your new quarters."

Wolffe chuckled.

"I'll grab a box," Sinker said as he exited the speeder.

"I'll grab the other box," Boost said as he also exited the speeder.

Comet, Cara, and Wolffe were soon left alone in the speeder and Wolffe wasn't too keen on moving from his spot. The hesitation wasn't lost on Comet.

"You really don't want to do this, do you?" Comet asked.

"Would you?" Wolffe retorted, his disdain bleeding through. "Would you leave your kid with strangers? With Jedi?"

"It's not that bad," Comet said.

Wolffe huffed and looked back out of the window. "You'll never understand."

"Guess not," Comet sighed. "I'll probably die before I fall in love and have a kid like you did."

Wolffe snapped his eyes back to Comet and glared at him. "Don't get insubordinate with me, Corporal."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Commander," Comet said before leaving the speeder.

Wolffe tilted his head back against the top of the seat and groaned. He was such an idiot. Even after everything Comet did for him following his wife's death, everything he did for Cara, Wolffe still had the audacity to bite at him like he was some random shiny that stepped out of line. Pathetic. At least he continued to live up to his namesake, whether he was proud of it or not, because when a wolf is cornered, it will lash out. He needed to get his fears, anxieties, and his temper under control, and sooner rather than later.

"Daddy?" Cara said sleepily as she stirred on his lap.

Wolffe tilted his head back down and smiled. "Hi, baby."

Cara whined. "I wanna sleep."

Wolffe picked her up so she was sitting on his legs instead of laying on them, much to her protest. "Not yet. We need to get settled in our new room first, then you can have a nap."

Cara whined and wriggled uncomfortably against Wolffe as he moved along the seat towards the speeder door.

"I know," Wolffe soothed as he exited the speeder and sat her on his hip. "Daddy wants a nap too, but can you stay awake for me for a little longer?"

Cara groaned and moved restlessly in Wolffe's grasp.

"Close enough," Wolffe sighed.

Wolffe carried Cara towards the edge of the stairway leading up to the Jedi Temple, where his general and men were waiting for him. He gripped her tightly in his arms, afraid that at any moment someone was going to rip her out of his arms and he'd never see her again. It wasn't an entirely irrational fear. The Jedi took children away from their parents all of the time. What made his daughter so different from those children? What if he left her here and never got her back?

"Calm yourself, Commander," Plo said when he sensed Wolffe's trepidation through the Force. "There are no enemies within these walls, only the enemies we bring in from within ourselves."

Wolffe heeded his general's words of wisdom and steadied himself. He stared up at the daunting, durastone stairway, took a deep breath, then released it slowly. He was as ready as he would ever be, and he hadn't even gotten to the hard part yet. Nevertheless, he stepped forward, and his men stepped forward with him in solidarity. A silent march up the Jedi Temple steps towards a new normal. A terrifying new normal, for both him and Cara, but this was only the beginning of it.

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Masterlist

AO3

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[endthedrugwarnowdotorg]

recognition

for being the one who inspires all of this activity feels so good i have been wracking my brain trying tofigure out why i am being punished for being someone who had no idea any of my theoretical concepts were being fully realized, & who just wanted to enjoy some of the fruits of all yalls hardwork while not even boasting about how i totally inspired cody who motivated all of you.. but hedidnt even realize that it was me who did that til just now. and shit is about to get a whole lot more fair and righteous & that is a super dope thing. i have a weird feeling in the pit of my stomach cause i talked too much shit to people who generally are just admirers & supporters.. its sometimes hard to appreciate that kind of support when i am so far from happy. i know i dont show it, i probably come across as totally peachy keen but it is not the case at all if i am away from my beloved. he knows this. he should. the only reason he would be anything but cocky would be because someone else is telling him lies or something because he knows full well he is the only thing that has ever made me give a damn about anything ever in this wholefuckingworld. i dont know if he does know this.. and apparently hes the onewith his feet up against the window.. just waiting for me to somehow get into his apartment.. just likehe was waiting for me to get on to the roof with him earlier.. andthen he apparerntly drove away in a carbut is now back in that apartment.. im confused. so whoever is there is either someone who needs to be told how to fix my fuckingbroken relationship or someone who needs to be worshipped like the sex god he is.. either way, i dont understand why everyone acts like i am some problem because i cannot walk through walls & have had a hardtime being anything but totally repsectful this entire month where i have been going through hell.. as politely as possible. i worry that all my casualties have made me come across as uncaring or uninterested in my husband but thats not the case. i just dont know how to texplain any better how many times i have already tried every single thing that you want me to try again and its just a lil discouraging and ihate lookng like a crazy person or drawing unwanted attention...plus i dont know why im supposedto know things like that youre there waiting for me or that youve had this thing that iddnt know about or that youre not the one whose in that apartment or that youve beeen upset all night and burning things and everyone is totally unaffected by your obvious upsetness. i want to doeverything right the first time but i fear ive alreeady fucked that. al i can do is try to fix it so here goes nothing :

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

The Owl House

An Unexpected Visit And An Unexpected Favor by ThoseFiveChicks

Hunter can't keep a palisman at the castle. There are few solutions to this problem.

house of gold by MossyBones

“It’s a third option.” Amity picked his discarded staff off the ground, smiling softly at the cardinal atop it. “You said it yourself, you can’t go back to the Coven empty-handed, and you can’t beat me. So, the way I see it, you have three options; go back to the Emperor’s Coven and face whatever consequences lie there, you can go back to digging that grave you were so eager to lie in, or you can come with me.”

“…What.”

///canon divergence au where amity decides kidnapping the golden guard is a better option than letting him have the key.

DC

like a weird, murdery uncle you don’t invite to thanksgiving by 2ndtolastrow

A series of moments in which the Gotham Rogues aren’t so bad.

Doctor Who/Dirk Gently's Detective Agency

The Doctor Loves an Ear Cuff and Dirk Sees an Old Friend by cosmicocean

Todd is ultimately not that surprised when he, Dirk, and Farah are walking down the street and Dirk sees someone walking on the opposite sidewalk, screams, and starts jumping up and down and waving. He is surprised, though, when that stranger starts jumping up and down and waving and screaming back. Usually if Dirk attracts someone’s attention, they stare at him like a crazy person, unless he asks if they’ve experienced accelerated strangeness or maybe their goat has gone missing, or maybe if they’re gained a goat, and then they’re usually a surprise client.

(Dirk and the Doctor excitably run into each other on the street.)

Clone Wars

Forgetting by Killbothtwins

Look, if you woke up in a spaceship with no memories, wouldn't you make some guesses about who you were? If some of those assumptions happen to be wrong, well...

Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, and Cody have amnesia.

Star Wars

every planet, every star, every single grain of sand by loosingletters

In which Darth Vader finds 9-year-old Luke on Tatooine, proceeds to have a breakdown, kills Palpatine and makes his preteen son Emperor, as you do. Otherwise known as the Adventures of Teeny Tiny Emperor Luke and his Royal Dad Guard Darth Vader.

Mando Back to the Clone Wars by yukipri

In which Din and Boba are time travelers--and also tiny. Din has no idea what's going on, but focuses on one goal: reuniting with Grogu. Boba's along for the ride. Unfortunately for them, the misunderstandings are only beginning...

(Comic/Visual Novel)

How To Win A Bar Fight And Practice Diplomacy While Negotiating A Bounty On Your Head by Jackdaw_Kraai

Part 4 of Civil Wars, Whistleblower Tactics, Schematic Drafting, And The Finer Points Of Sith Adoption: The Essential How-To Guide For The Engineering Jedi

Nine months after being hired, Luke Skywalker is gearing up for his first ever participation in the biggest event on Death Squadron's calendar: the Gathering.

A month-long maintenance stop for the whole fleet at the famous Kuat Drive Yards, marking the start of all manner of diplomacy, mass recruitment, military games, and endless activity. As the Head Engineer, his participation was a forgone conclusion, but with his new status as Darth Vader's Home things have only gotten more complicated. With more power at his fingertips than he even realizes, many eyes have turned to the young engineer with keen interest, anticipating the arrival of the mysterious new player on the galactic stage. None more so than a certain Zevulon Veers, who finally sees his chance for escape after months of waiting.

But amongst the colorful cast of characters waiting to be met lurk those with darker intentions yet, and between all the diplomatic and military machinations, the shadow of Luke's bounty looms larger than ever, drawing in unwanted attention.

Luke is more than he appears to be though, and standing firmly with one foot in a mysterious and fierce legacy, his enemies may find they have bitten off more than they can chew.

[inkformyblood]

a soft epilogue

After Fox’s chip malfunctions and he kills Palpatine, Cody and Obi-Wan are forced to reckon with a war that ended far sooner than either of them expected and everything that neither can bring themselves to say.

Pairing: Codywan, minor Quinlan Vos/Fox

Warnings: mild injury

Day 01 Prompt: Fix-It AU

@codywanweek

Cody couldn’t say what alerted him first; whether it was the sudden sense of relief that bloomed in his chest, foreign and fragile, or the immediate starting howl of the alarm klaxons that was suddenly cut off into painful silence.

He tucked his cards — the beginnings of a winning hand — into his chest as he reached for his bracer, every movement deliberate and practiced, projecting a quiet confidence he did not feel as worry twisted through his stomach. They were on leave, had been for three days now, and there had been no communications about planned drills which could only mean…

A single message flashed on the interface, marked as the highest priority in the Command Track Chat, supposedly sent from Fox but lacking his usual typing style. ‘Ignore alarm. All fine.’

Cody felt his heart stop, reading and rereading the message as his mind worked frantically, running over the possible scenarios in an instant. Obi-Wan was meant to be in one of the meditation rooms on the fifth floor, too far away for Cody to reach easily, but if he sent a scout to collect the General—

He ignored the twist of emotion in his chest, pushed it down as he had been doing for years, pulling a deep breath in through his teeth before looking up to catch Wooley’s eye. The other clone's eyes were wide, chewing over the side of his cheek in time with the flutter of his fingers over the edges of his cards as he waited, trying to read Cody’s expression.

The barracks were silent around him, the emptiness of several men waiting for an order, waiting for something to shatter the sliver of peace they were only just beginning to enjoy.

“Wooley,” Cody began, before cutting himself off. He pushed himself to his feet, scooping up the blaster from next to him, turning to level it at the door as it slid open, seconds after the hurried heartbeat of stumbling bootsteps echoed down the corridor.

Fox’s grin as the man stumbled into the room, supported between Stone and Thire, was nothing short of triumphant, the man’s teeth blood-stained and bared. His curls were plastered to his head with sweat, the grey that gathered at his temples more pronounced next to the wild rolling of his eyes.

“What’s going on?” Cody asked, his words sharp enough to cut, and Fox tipped his head back to laugh. It was harsh and broken, like a degraded holo-film, rumbling through him as if he was in his death throes, pulling against Stone’s grip as Thire turned, glancing back down the corridor.

There was a set of footsteps drawing closer, purposeful and clear, and Cody felt the familiar fear of the battleground settle in his chest, the tension the moment before the first shot fired when the entire world stopped.

“I—“ Fox broke off, a spasm rumbling through his body, his hands curling into desperate fists before they flexed out like talons. His jaw clicked shut, a wave of helpless anger passing over his face as a muscle in his cheek jumped. “I—“

Cody felt the horror at his vode’s state settle in his stomach like a stone. What was going on?

“We didn’t know what to do, so we brought him here after Vos brought him to us.”

Cody caught Stone’s eye as the man finished speaking. They were clones trained for war and raised to be perfect soldiers, but the other clone looked haunted, the ghosts of something Cody couldn’t name settling into his bones. His gaze remained steady, boring into Cody’s, even as he shifted to re-balance Fox against his side.

Some distant part of mind whispered the similarities between their current state and that of a drunken shiny, flushed from shore leave, even as his thoughts sharpened, battleplans curling their grasping fingers in readiness.

“Vos is involved?” Cody knew the Jedi well enough through their shared connection to Obi-Wan and the mountains of paperwork his missions inevitably created, but there had never been anything like this. Quinlan had always seemed to care for his men and the other troopers, but Cody had to protect his vode.

“He didn’t— He, no,” Fox ground out, his gaze sharp and his teeth bared. He wavered, stumbling on his feet as he tried to get his limbs underneath him, sagging against their grip. There was bruise beginning to form on his temple with a matching one curved across his cheek, the edges red and muted against his olive skin. “Not him, never— No.”

“Okay, vode. Then who did this?” Cody felt the air grow sharp as every trooper behind him, their previous tasks fully abandoned, focused on Fox’s next words. Fox had paused, however, his head rolling backwards, the whites of his eyes bloodshot as he tried to stare at the door. The footsteps were echoing louder, drawing ever closer. Cody’s hand drifted to the blaster at his hip, his fingers brushing along the empty lightsaber clip and his heart twisted in his chest.

The door hissed open, and Quinlan Vos stepped through — his face bloodless except for the furious colour high in his cheeks — to a fanfare of the clicks of primed blasters. His hands raised, fingers splayed and trembling, but his gaze didn’t linger on the group in front of him, skimming over their faces before settling on Fox.

“Talk quickly, Vos.”

Quinlan took a moment, leaning forward, turning towards Fox like a plant turning towards sunlight, before he caught himself, settling back on his heels.

“I don’t have all the details.” His words ran together as he spoke, and his eyes only flickered back to Cody, watching Fox as if he couldn’t bear to look away from the other man even for a moment. “But it seems like there is dormant programming in some of you, or all of you, I can’t say.”

Fox laughed, the same grating stuttering sound, and Cody shivered, the hair on his arms and at the base of his neck prickling.

Quinlan grew paler, chewing on his lower lip as he swayed in place before continuing. “It looks like it was a Sith plan, to have you turn on the Jedi and kill us, but something went wrong, and Fox’s activated both early and twisted.”

Quinlan paused, a grin twisting over his face despite his worry clouding it. “Saved us a lot of time with investigating.”

Cody’s head span, cold dread mixing with biting horror in his gut, and he forced himself to draw a deep breath in. He couldn’t let himself falter, not without the safety of his helmet and not in front of his men. His free hand crept up to curl his fingers around the empty lightsaber clip once more and felt his heartbeat settle.

“What happened?”

Fox jerked himself out Thire and Stone’s hold, stumbling forward with a snarl, and Quinlan stepped forward, his hands settling on Fox’s hips with an ease that made Cody’s heart ache. They came together so easily, their jagged edges melding rather than crashing against each other.

Cody’s grip tightened on the clip, metal biting in his palm, and forced his thoughts away from the gulf that duty created between himself and Obi-Wan. But they both knew they had a war to fight, so settled back into their own lonely orbits, skin burning wherever the other had touched them that time.

It hurt more than he could say.

Fox leant forward — the slight movement drawing Cody out of his own bitter self-pity — pressing his forehead against Vos’ with a sigh. “The Chancellor is dead,” Fox murmured. His gaze shifted sideways to lock onto Cody’s, burning with a bright feverish intensity. “I shot him.”

Quinlan caught Fox as the clone fainted, his eyes rolling backwards in his skull, his body falling limp as if he had been shot, and Cody couldn’t breathe, could barely think, but he had to stay strong. For his men and his General.

“We’ve got work to do.” Cody turned away from Quinlan, unable to fully ignore the whisper in the back of his mind about the last time he had seen Obi-Wan.

That morning felt like several lifetimes ago. Obi-Wan had hesitated in the doorway to the small meeting room, the datapad containing the final forms to confirm their shore leave for the next few days. His blue eyes seemed clouded, a storm brewing that had only intensified with every accidental brush of their hands, or every time their knees bumped beneath the cramped table.

Cody turned to watch him, feeling the distance between them keener than ever, another knife sliding neatly between his ribs. Obi-Wan had smiled, inclining his head a fraction before moving away, his steps slower than usual as if he was pulling against a tether that was drawing him back into the room, back towards Cody.

“Get the medics. And Wooley?”

Wooley snapped to attention, his hands slamming against his thighs hard enough to draw bruises.

“Go get the General.”

⁂

Cody stopped in front of Obi-Wan’s door. The metal was as carefully blank and featureless as every other door he passed to get here, but there was a warmth about it that was absent, a lingering promise of the man who was waiting on the other side.

He should knock. He should let Obi-Wan know in a tangible way that he was here, but he couldn’t. His hand remained frozen at his side, and he found himself studying the door to try and stem the mounting wave of worry rising in his chest.

It wasn’t as blank as his first glance made it out to be. He could see the faint lighter patch at one edge where it opened that matched the press of Obi-Wan’s hand, stretched out to prolong their parting for a moment longer. His heart twisted in his chest, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe.

Throughout the war, they had both held back from uttering the words that could destroy them both.

The closest they had gotten was one late night amongst thousands of other nights when they could barely keep their eyes open and ran from one emergency to another. Cody had startled awake, his cheek aching with the indentation of his datapad, but he had barely started to shift when he paused. Obi-Wan was resting against his shoulder, his weight warm and grounding, the same way it had been for countless nights before this one. But it was different.

Obi-Wan had stirred, pushed himself upright with his cheeks turning a pale pink that only highlighted the freckles cast across his nose like a constellation.

“When this war is over,” he began, his voice thick with sleep, but his eyes were bright, locked onto Cody’s.

“When the war is over,” Cody echoed, missing Obi-Wan the moment the man moved away.

Now it was over.

Cody shook himself free of the memory as hurried footsteps echoed from behind the door. He had kept his General— he had kept Obi-Wan waiting for too long.

The door slid open at his touch with a mechanical hiss, but Obi-Wan still jumped, turning with his reflexive smile — the one that rang false and hollow and failed to illuminate his eyes, constructed for politicians. It was wiped away in an instant for something genuine, something true, the smile made just for Cody.

Owning things was still new to him, to all of them, but that smile was something he treasured more than he could say.

“Commander— Cody.” Obi-Wan caught himself, his smile softening and ducking his head before he straightened. He wasn’t wearing his usual robes but instead a pale wrap that hung loosely from his shoulders and just past his wrists and was belted around his waist. Beneath it, Cody caught a glimpse of a form-fitting black jumpsuit before Obi-Wan stepped forward, and his gaze snapped back to his face.

Cody tugged at the edge of his own shirt, the black cotton soft and worn-in, and felt a prickle of shame in the pit of his stomach. How could he have ever thought that he would be good enough for the Jedi?

“I’m glad you’ve come to visit me. I know the past few weeks have been busy.” Obi-Wan laughed slightly, shaking his head at his own statement. Now that he was closer, Cody could see the dark circles that clung beneath his eyes like bruises and the pale cast to his skin that spoke of far too many hours spent hunched over a datapad. Cody’s fingers twitched with the urge to try and smooth the other man’s exhaustion away.

“Please, sit.” Obi-Wan gestured towards the small sofa before stepping away. He tucked his hands into his sleeves before catching himself and shifting to clasp them in front of him. “I’ll get us both some tea.”

Cody took the offered place, mindful of the weapon oil that likely still clung to his hands as he perched on the edge of his seat, an immediate ache radiating down his thighs. He let his gaze wander as Obi-Wan stepped away, keeping track of the Jedi’s movements from the gentle sound of his footsteps and the rattling of the porcelain that was quickly replaced by the hiss of the kettle.

He had been in Obi-Wan’s rooms before, but never like this, never with the knowledge that they were equals, and he could look around to his heart’s content.

To one side, a large window was set into the wall, ringed by carefully tended plants. Wooden stakes were tied to some, the twine a pale flash amongst the dark green and brilliant flowers. Amongst the earthen pots, Cody could just make out the flat curves of several stones, some of which he recognised from Obi-Wan’s quarters on the ship. He hadn’t understood why the other man took a moment to slip a stone into his pocket on every planet he could, but Cody had found himself studying the terrain closer than usual, carefully adding his own contributions to the collection on the ship.

Obi-Wan had never mentioned it, but Cody recognised a large dark blue stone that held pride of place on the shelf — its surface shot through with silver veins that gleamed like stars in hyperspace — from their mission before the leave that changed everything.

The rest of the room was as sparse as Cody had come to expect from the other man. A data pad lay on the desk that was tucked away in the opposite corner, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber carefully resting on a stand above it. The sight of the saber in its correct place and not discarded on the churned mud of a battlefield or hanging from Cody’s hip made him bite back a laugh, but he couldn’t disguise the slight hitch in his breathing.

“Your disapproval may finally be influencing me, Cody.” There was a flicker of pride across Obi-Wan’s face, hidden as the other man turned away, his hands perfectly steady on the cups.

Cody looked around the room once more, understanding settling over his shoulders like a shroud. Everything had been cleaned and organised, and re-organised, because Obi-Wan wanted it to be perfect, because Cody was stopping by as a free man, not a soldier, and they were finally equals. He could almost picture Obi-Wan moving back and forth, his steps a frantic beat to a music only he could hear as he second-guessed the placement of every object in the small room.

“Not at all, General— Obi-Wan. Just surprised to see it in the same room as you.”

Obi-Wan laughed, and Cody turned back to him, keen to study the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. He stepped closer, holding out the cup to Cody, a curl of sweet-smelling steam wafting from it.

Their fingers brushed as Cody took it, his blush mirrored on Obi-Wan’s paler cheeks, and the Jedi carefully sat on the other edge of the sofa, his inherent grace making it look effortless.

Cody focused on the cup, taking a small sip of the hot tea and feeling it burn against his tongue. There was a faint lingering bitterness beneath the tart sweetness of the berries infused with it, and Cody rocked backwards with a sigh.

“I remembered that you liked this one.” Obi-Wan wrapped his hands around his cup, but made no movement to drink it, his gaze fixed on the blank wall opposite. The early afternoon sun streamed through the window, illuminating him like he was a work of art, and Cody felt his heart twist.

“How did it go? Your surgery, I mean.” Obi-Wan’s blush deepened as he stumbled over his words, his nails tapping against the side of his cup.

Cody carefully transferred his hold on the cup to one hand — the heat pressing against his fingertips and raised his free hand to trace the faint healing incision on his temple that curved up into his hairline. His hair had been shaved to accommodate the surgery and was rough against his touch. “It went as well as Helix expected it would. They had to remove ours last due as they were implanted differently, and they needed to work out why Fox’s was activated early.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan set his cup down by his feet and sat back with a world-weary sigh, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes with a grimace. Cody mimicked him, and shifted closer, his knee bumping against Obi-Wan’s, and the man froze before relaxing into the whisper of contact.

“Quinlan is apparently taking good care of him. I don’t think Fox has had to raise a finger for anything in a week.” Cody bit back the rising tide of anger as he recalled the list of Fox’s injuries. The final trigger had been a slap, dismissive and cruel, but it had been enough to spark the chip that had been primed through months of the Sith lord tearing out Fox’s thoughts by the roots, pruning his mind for no other reason than he could.

“I’m glad they have found each other.” Obi-Wan glanced up at Cody, catching his gaze out of the corner of his eye, and paused.

Countless stolen moments and bitten-off confessions, everything they had been unable to say culminated in here and now.

“Given that the war is over,” Cody began, watching hope burn in Obi-Wan’s eyes like a banked flame that grew with every word. The Jedi’s hands were curled into fists on his thighs, restraining himself from reaching out, as, although Cody was free, Obi-Wan couldn’t make that first step himself.

Doubt still gnawed at the base of Cody’s skull, but it couldn’t hold its place amidst the warmth flooding through his chest.

“I would like to kiss you now,” Cody finished, leaning forward a few inches, before he stopped, waiting for Obi-Wan’s reaction.

The Jedi’s cheeks were burning, and Cody wanted to commit the colour to memory, to study the flecks of darker blue in Obi-Wan’s eyes that were nearly obscured by his pupil, dark and encompassing.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan breathed, the word catching in his throat and dissolving into a sibilant hiss against Cody’s lips as he pressed himself forwards. “I’ve waited so long for this.”

Cody laughed, the sound muffled against Obi-Wan’s desperate kiss, his beard scratching against Cody’s lips and cheeks, and broke apart just long enough to press their foreheads together. He could feel Obi-Wan trembling beneath his hands, the other man’s grip on his shoulders almost biting.

“I love you,” Cody whispered, kissing Obi-Wan once more, soft and sweet.

“I love you,” Obi-Wan replied as if it was the simplest thing in the world and pulled Cody up to kiss him again, murmuring half-broken promises against his mouth that rang true and heart-felt, everything they had been leaving carefully unsaid for years.

This was where he was meant to be, safe and loved and by Obi-Wan’s side, and Cody knew that whatever happened, they would face it together.

[the-last-kenobi]

I love your writing so much!! If you’re still taking requests, could you do 9 with Obi-Wan and Anakin?

Thank you!! <3 And of course! I hope you enjoy.

From this various prompts list.

Set after The Wrong Jedi arc. And it’s way... way longer than I meant it to be. Whoops. I told myself, make this one short. Actually a prompt fill. And then I laughed at myself and wrote a fic and I don’t know exactly how long it is because I was too scared to look at the word count.

I tagged it as long post so I hope those of you who aren’t in the mood for my rambling bs are as to skip it!

I will add a reading cut when I get my hands on a laptop.

_

When Skywalker stormed into the training bay, his fists clenched by his sides, troopers scattered out of his way like silver-fish before a Bloodfin.

Even without Force-sensitivity, it was impossible to miss the potent fury rolling off the young General in waves, almost visible on the air, scalding anyone who got too near. His eyes glided right over the Clones, however, and fixed on a single figure standing alone on a mat, performing a slow exercise.

Anakin strode over to the edge of the mat and stamped his foot on the edge, twisting it a few inches just as the other man’s foot came back down from a stretch. He slipped. At the last second he caught himself, turning on the spot to regain his balance.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke calmly, as if nothing had just happened. As if his friend wasn’t glaring at him with rage and disdain.

“A duel,” said Anakin, in a tone that brokered no argument.

General Kenobi’s face tightened slightly. But he nodded graciously and summoned his lightsaber to his hands, drawing backwards towards the opposite wall and raising his blue blade in a low Soresu opening.

Skywalker waited only half a second before launching himself at the other man in a blur of blue light and red-hot anger.

Cody, watching from the wall, clasped his hands behind his back as he watched the two Jedi spar at bewildering speeds.

Dizzying swirls of colliding blue light. Last-moment maneuvers, a blade hot as a sun missing moving limbs by inches. Skywalker always on the offensive. Kenobi always giving ground.

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened slightly as his entire body trembled under the weight of a blow that could have removed his head from his shoulders had he not blocked it; his own serenity seemed to shrink in the face of Anakin’s fire and desperation.

There was a blur of motion, and Skywalker stood triumphant as Kenobi crashed to the floor with the younger man’s saber an inch from his chest.

Obi-Wan stared up at his friend. “Solah,” he whispered.

For a moment more, the scene hung suspended. The lightsaber burning close, too close, to Obi-Wan’s vulnerable body, Anakin looming over him with anger in his eyes.

Then Anakin turned and stalked out of the room, leaving his former Master on the floor with a faint scorch mark on his pale tunics.

“Sir.” Cody strode over to his General immediately and helped him to his feet, watching him wince, feeling a surge of helpless anger at the nagging realization that he had never anticipated a time when his General would be hurting because of Skywalker. “Sir.”

“Cody,” the Jedi said wearily. “I need to get up to the bridge.”

“You need to see Hoop,” said Cody, referring to the 212th’s medic.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No. We’re still two days out through hyperspace and we need to find a way to make contact with the ground troops on Ryloth before we go barging in.”

Cody clenched his jaw but assented, knowing that there was no dissuading his General, not now. He had just one more thing to say.

“General.” He waited until Kenobi looked at him. “You threw that fight.”

Obi-Wan inhaled slowly, a look of what his Commander recognized as pain — grief — flickering behind his blue eyes. “Anakin needed the win,” he said quietly.

=

The second time Anakin Skywalker stormed into the training bay, everyone moved aside to watch even before Obi-Wan had turned around to greet his former apprentice.

Men from the 501st and the 212th, thrown together on this joint mission as if to both aggravate and soothe the hurt of Ahsoka’s departure, stood side by side and watched as their Generals flung themselves into the fight as if lives depended on it.

As Kenobi let Skywalker take the offensive. As he let Skywalker come to the edge of victory again and again and then held him off at the last second.

As Anakin’s rage grew, as he began to resent Obi-Wan for dragging the battle out and denying Anakin the victory he craved and deserved. Holding him back as always.

As for the second time Kenobi threw the fight in a way that Anakin didn’t notice.

Letting him walk off with his rage dispersed for awhile, the relieved and triumphant victor, while the bruised and shaken loser climbed to his feet and went back to work with an air of gravity around him. As if Obi-Wan had absorbed the weight of his friend’s anger and carried it like a shroud.

Maybe he did.

=

The third time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by punching Obi-Wan in the face.

The fourth time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by burning his leg from hip to ankle.

The sixth time Anakin confronted Obi-Wan, he won by pressing his foot down on the other man’s throat almost to the point of unconsciousness.

The eighth time, he won by knocking Obi-Wan’s lightsaber from his hands and driving him back against a wall with his own saber at Obi-Wan’s neck.

=

“You have to stop,” Hoop said.

Obi-Wan shook his head. “He... needs this.” A hiss escaped his lips as the medic dabbed bacta along the abrasion above his eye, the bacta he had tried to say he didn’t need.

“He needs a therapist and an ass kicking,” retorted Hoop, disregarding standard respect. He didn’t care about protocol in general, and certainly not when his General turned up every other day — usually dragged in by Cody — with bruises and cuts and strained muscles.

Obi-Wan only shook his head again.

=

Cody, Rex, Hoop, and many of the others had hoped that the battles on Ryloth would serve as a good outlet for General Skywalker.

They did.

But it wasn’t enough.

Fighting what felt like a futile war for the planet’s freedom, being back on Ryloth yet again, and the gaping hole in the 501st where Ahsoka had once stood only seemed to drive Skywalker’s pain upwards. And for Anakin, all emotions led to rage, eventually.

He could not stand the depths of his emotions, the dark days, the low times. If he was not happy, he chose rage over sorrow.

And there was so much sorrow.

=

There was a two-day reprieve after the campaign on Ryloth. Temporary victory had been purchased yet again with the blood of the natives and the GAR, and the 501st and 212th departed for another campaign halfway across the galaxy at once.

And for two days there was time to rest and think.

And then Anakin stalked into the training bay again. Not finding Obi-Wan, he waited for him, and as soon as the older Jedi entered the room, raised his lightsaber in an Ataru salute.

=

The thirteenth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, they dueled for over three hours, and both fell exhausted to the ground.

The nineteenth time, Anakin left Obi-Wan with a leg broken in two places. Cody had to physically restrain Hoop — and himself, frankly — from jumping General Skywalker and throttling him.

The twenty-eighth time, Obi-Wan’s guard slipped, and Anakin’s saber drove straight through Obi-Wan’s thigh. A mirror image of the wound Dooku had inflicted on his other leg, a lifetime ago it seemed, back when they had been on the same side.

Were they still?

Anakin’s face had dropped with shock at the injury, and before any of the men could react, he had picked Obi-Wan up in his arms and rushed him to the med bay.

And then the Council called to speak with Kenobi privately, and Anakin’s rage and hurt against them for their role in handing his Padawan over to the authorities rose up again like a serpent reading to strike.

The thirtieth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, he fought with his left hand, as if taunting his Master that he was still superior.

The thirty-sixth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, the older Jedi fought back, taking the offensive just long enough that it seemed he would be victorious — and then something in Anakin’s face broke. Grief and dismay were revealed in the cracks of his wrath, and Obi-Wan retreated again, and then fell.

The fortieth time Anakin challenged Obi-Wan, he was met with silence.

Anakin stared, his saber already lit in his hands, as Obi-Wan stood up slowly from where he had been meditating.

He dragged himself to his feet like a man on the verge of collapse, but he was as irritatingly graceful as ever, composed, serene. Anakin’s hands tightened on his weapon.

“Well?” he prompted.

Obi-Wan said nothing.

He looked down at the floor, and some of his burnished, ruddy hair fell over his eyes, concealing his face from view. Anakin waited impatiently. A strange feeling rose inside him, something nauseous and uncertain, and he did not want to know what it was.

“Well?” he demanded more aggressively.

Obi-Wan swallowed hard and looked up at him.

And Anakin was struck by how small his Master looked.

Shorter than him by a few inches, yes, but somehow that larger-than-life quality that hung about the man had fallen away. He looked tired. Beaten, humbled, hurt — like a child, like a man driven to the edge and then over it without anyone pausing to take notice of his fall.

His blue eyes were shattered by unshed tears.

Anakin recoiled.

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan croaked. His voice was tight as a wire, strained with the effort of holding back tears. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Anakin. I... I’m too tired to be your emotional punching bag today.”

“Obi-Wan—” said Anakin, not even knowing what he was going to say, and stopped there.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan repeated. And he sounded it. Looked it. Was dripping remorse into the air like a sky about to storm. “Please. If this is what you need, I can keep doing it, but I just need today. I need a day to breathe. And — and if you’re —”

A tear trickled down over one cheek and into his beard. Then another.

Anakin was watching with his expression frozen between anger and shock.

Cody leaned forward as if about to spring. Rex’s hand settled on his shoulder.

“If you just need more time, I’ll give it to you,” Obi-Wan whispered. “But if you’re angry enough to strike me down unarmed... do it. I don’t — I don’t want — I can’t —”

Cody jolted under Rex’s grip.

And still, Anakin’s saber blazed in his hands, casting Obi-Wan in blue light, reflected in his shining eyes.

“I can’t,” Obi-Wan said helplessly.

Anakin hesitated.

Conflicting emotions ran across his face one after the other, grief chasing pain chasing anger chasing despair chasing rage, like shadows passing over deeper waters.

He raised his saber a little higher.

=

[unstoppableforcce]

always

—CHAPTER FOUR: decisions

pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

previous part | next part | masterlist

a/n: it’s been a long wait for this heartbreak, I know I know, thank y’all for waiting and for being as lovely as ever. I hope you enjoy this angst, I can promise more to follow, as always, and eventually some soft fluff, I promise :)))))

(also, fair warning, I didn’t do a final read through like I normally do, so I apologize for any errors, I just wanted to post it lol)

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

His head was swirling with thoughts the same way the ribbons of blood that dripped off his hands swirled into what used to be clean water sitting in the wooden bowl before him. Every time he thought he was getting past it, the brutal and violent images came coursing through his mind again. The memories were tormenting his mind and no matter what he tried, much like the blood on his hands, he couldn’t scrub it away. 

At first, he thought it was just his own guilt that was bubbling through him, making him see Cody’s unconscious form laid out on the floor of battle while the fresh faced recruits fended off the invaders. It was his blood which marred Obi-Wan’s hands after all, it was his blood that was impossible to wash away...

But then another round of violent images entered his mind, much less real yet much more painful. 

He saw you at the hands of the invaders, he saw your blood covering the walls, he saw you dead in his hands and though he knew it wasn’t real, he couldn't help but be overwhelmed with one strong feeling. The feeling that it was all his fault. 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

He knew it wasn’t real. He knew that the invaders were stopped right there on the East Wall, not making it more than two feet past the royal defenses. He knew him and his men were there to stop them before you were under any real threat and he knew that Cody was slated to make a full recovery but...

But it all felt real as it flashed through his mind. 

You were dead in his arms and it was all his fault. 

Maybe he knew it wasn’t real but maybe it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t real yet, maybe it would be real soon if he wasn’t careful and that was something he couldn’t take his chances with. 

The images his mind conjured out of his guilt alone was wrecking him to his core and they weren’t even real, the mere idea that one day it could be was enough to solidify one single thought in his mind. 

He had to protect you, no matter the cost. 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The cost... 

He knew exactly what the cost would be and it made him sick inside to even consider it. But as he looked out the small window of his bathroom and saw the early light of morning beginning to light the sky, all he could think of was where you had been last night. 

You had been here, in his quarters, away from the guards who stood outside your room, away from every measure of protection he had enacted to keep you safe... you were with him and vulnerable while invaders raided the East Wall. He had been too stupid to realize it the moment, too drunk on the taste of your lips, too blinded by the beautiful image of you cast in the shadows of his desk candlelight, but it was all he could see now as he continued to watch Cody’s blood drip off his hands and into the bowl. 

That vulnerability was because of him. 

The absolute last thing in the galaxy that he wanted to do was to cut off the intimate tie to you that he had barely begun forming, but he needed to keep you safe. No matter how much it hurt him, no matter how much it hurt you... He needed to protect you.

No matter the cost. 

With a splash, he plunged his hands into the wooden bowl, furiously scrubbing until his hands were clean and the remaining water was filthy with the blood that no longer coated his hands. And now, instead of the grueling memories of Cody on the ground, blood pouring from the slice across his chest, or the fatal conjured images of you in a similar position, his head was filled strategies and procedures. 

He’d have to up your protective detail. It could no longer be just him and the occasional watching eyes of the palace guard, there would need to be someone alongside you at all times. Maybe even more than one someone, maybe even more than two. 

There would always have to be guards around your room, you wouldn’t be able to wander alone in the gardens, you wouldn’t be able to slip away anymore--

“General Kenobi?” A careful voice sounded from the other side of his door, accompanying a few knocks that increased in urgency until he made his way to the door. 

And once he opened it, he found his young recruit Anakin on the other side. “Yes?”

“The Princess has been asking for you...” he continued, almost out of breath, “repeatedly...”

The time for planning was over. Now he’d have to break the news to you. Stars, his heart was surging with pain in his chest, an overwhelming pain as he offered Anakin a brief nod. “You can tell her that I’ll be up in a moment.”

“No offense, General, but I don’t think she’ll want to wait.”

No. Of course not. Obi-Wan huffed, giving Anakin another nod before moving to grab his sword, strap it to his hip and leave his room. 

And stair after stair that he climbed to bring himself to your room, he reminded himself that this was the only way to keep you safe. No matter how much you resented him for it, no matter how much you fought against it... he was doing it to protect you. 

Having you alive was better than dead, whether you were alive and hated him or not. 

As he nodded to the two guards he had stationed at your door, they quickly knocked and opened the door for him. Once he was through it, they shut it behind him but there was no sight of you in your living area, just the first rays of morning bleeding in through the exquisite curtains that blocked your windows.  

He glanced around for you, careful to stay in your entry way, knowing what moving farther in would mean, but he still couldn’t see you anywhere. 

“Your highness?” He called out carefully, keeping his hands locked behind his back as he waited anxiously. 

And just as he moved to call out again after receiving no response, he was interrupted by the distinct sounds of your eager footsteps bounding out of your bedroom. Within seconds, he spotted you running towards him, and before he had time enough to brace himself for impact, you were colliding with him, knocking him back a few steps as your arms wrapped tight around his neck. 

“Your highness...” he tried but you quickly brought your hands to his face and brought his lips to yours. Any words he considered saying were whisked away with the desperate kiss you delivered. 

He knew what he needed to do, he repeated it a thousand times over in his head, but as he felt your lips on his, it melted away. 

Your touch was too warm, it was too comfortable...

He kissed you back, wrapping his hands delicately around the back of your neck to hold you as close as you were holding him. But as he tasted the distinct flavor of tears on his lips, he snapped back to the all too harsh reality of the moment. 

Ever so gently, he reached his hands to yours and slowly pulled them from his face while he hesitantly drew his lips back from yours. As your eyes pried themselves open with the same level of hesitation he exhibited, your face twisted into a quick confusion. “Obi-Wan... what’s wrong?”

He kept his grip on your hands until he had them successfully pulled from him, then he released them, establishing the first bit of distance from you that he needed if he was going to do this properly. 

But your concern only grew, “Obi, what is it, what’s wrong?”

“Your highness, nothing is wrong.” He sighed, carefully drawing his stare to meet yours and feeling his heart break the second he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks. 

“Something is wrong, what is it, has something changed in Commander Cody’s condition, is he--”

“No, your highness, he will still make a full recovery.”

You confusion continued to grow as you reached out for him, still concerned, only to have him take a step back away from your touch. “Obi, please...”

Summoning all of the respect and professionalism he could muster, he began building the defensive wall he would need if he was to keep you safe. Not one between the two of you and the rest of the world, but one between him and you. 

It was the only way. 

“The breach tonight, at the East Wall, has illuminated some flaws within our system of protecting you and we’ll be making some changes,” he began easily but the weight of your pained and tear-stricken stare was heavy on his chest, making it harder and harder to breath. Letting out a shuddering breath, he continued, “I’m going to be increasing your protective detail and limiting your exposure--”

“Obi-Wan--”

He couldn’t let you interrupt him. If he didn’t get it all out now, he feared he’d choke on his words and lose them in his throat for good. “It’ll be a team of my best men, they will keep you safe--”

Though, you seemed to have a similar hasty motivation because you cut him off again before he could finish. 

“You keep me safe, Obi, you always have.” You took another step forward, the last hopeful venture you could manage because as he stepped back from you, it became the last move you could make towards him. Your heart became all too heavy... 

“Things have changed.” He said quickly and evenly for the first time that morning, but as he continued with his plan and your face twisted again, his voice grew rugged again. “It’ll be a constant watch and you’ll be limited in where you can go, specifically, I’d like you to stay within the palace walls at all time--”

“Within the palace walls?” You scoffed, taking a step back from him this time instead of the other way around as everything began to make sense to you. “You want to lock me in the palace? Take away the few freedoms I have, like wandering gardens. Put me under constant watch... Will I be allowed to do anything at all?”

“This is for your protection, your highness--” He quickly attempted to fight but as your anger began to bubble within you, you had no desire to listen to him. 

“Have you not kept me safe all this time? Is there something here that I’m missing, Obi-Wan? This doesn’t make any sense, why--”

“Because of tonight!”

As you had argued with him, you had taken steps closer to him, gotten further into his face with your frustration and confusion but the second he snapped back at you, you stuttered where you stood. You knew he would never hurt you, you knew his snap was only out of the same frustration that fueled you, but you still stuttered, taking a half-step back and away from him. 

His whole demeanor shifted the second he saw you step away from him, any hint of anger washed away and the broken heart beneath it all began to shine through. “Your highness, please allow me to apologize--”

You waved your hand at that, then wrapped both your arms around your chest, shutting yourself off from him. As if his heart needed further breaking. 

“Tonight... you mean when I kissed you?” You asked, carefully lifting your stare to his again. “Or you mean with the incursion... exactly what about tonight changed everything?”

He opened his mouth, feeling a response on his tongue but as he watched the morning sunlight cast shadows over your face the same way the candle light had lit you up last night as he held you in his arms, any response washed away. 

So you continued, taking a hesitant step forward. “Obi-Wan, what is it?”

“I’m too close...” he sighed, no longer able to hold your stare. “You slipped from your room to see me as men jumped the palace wall to kill you and I didn’t send you back. You are at your most vulnerable when you’re wandering the gardens alone and yet I let you because I like seeing your smile in the sunlight. I let you slip from the palace protection to see the sunset because I want to see you happy but I can’t do that anymore.”

All you could do was swallow as he spoke, trying to maintain your composure even as you could feel your heart breaking in your chest. You wanted nothing more than to step towards him, to hold him as his voice trembled, and to find the same comfort in him that you wanted to give to him but you were frozen where you stood. 

So he continued. “I’m too close, your highness, and, if I want to keep you safe, I can’t be this close.”

Your silence remained, so he spoke again. 

“I have to protect you, no matter the cost.”

There was nothing to say, nothing you could do. You could see it in his eyes that it would be impossible to change his mind, and that was the last wound he could deliver. Each and every word he spoke broke you into a thousand pieces, shattering every inch of you...

A few seconds later and the heartbreak was replaced with anger again. 

“Get out.”

His stare snapped back to yours as your harsh words hit him square in the chest. “Your highness--” He tried carefully but you weren’t having it. 

“Get out.” You repeated, holding your arms tight around yourself and taking a step back from him. 

Yet, again he tried your title on his tongue, not sure what he hoped to accomplish as he did, but did it again anyways. “Your highness--”

And again, you repeated yourself, though this time, you opened the door to ensure he didn’t misinterpret your tone. “Get out, General.”

With a nod of his head, he easily complied, slipping past you and out the door. But he barely made it two steps away before he felt a tear of his own slip out of his eye and trail down his cheek. His gloved hand reached up to wipe it away quickly but ultimately, it didn’t matter how many he wiped away, more kept flowing. 

And as you pressed your back to the door of your room, after a couple of unsuccessful deep breaths, you found yourself afflicted by the same. 

Tear after tear. Tear after tear. 

It didn’t make it hurt any less. Even if you both knew, deep down, that maybe it was for the best.

—

tags: (let me know if I missed you or you want to be added!!)

@none-of-your-bullshit @elizzysnow13 @binaryssunsets @pennyllanne @mistermiraclee @haztory @dark-academics-and-florals @obi-wan-kanboneme @cyarikaaa @catsandbats13 @justrunamok @voidmonny @ravenclawbitch426 @lysawayne @thinemineours @freyafell

[tanyawritesstories]

Who He Wants To Be | Waxer x Single Mom!Reader

Since Waxer is on my list of top 10 best space dads, I made him one! Kind of. You'll see, I hope y'all enjoy this cute little fic 😊

Word count: 2,903

Warnings: nothin but fluff, cute kids, Waxer is a good dad and partner, descriptions of a bag injury, a tiny bit of sad at the end, nothing too much.

•••

Waxer was getting tired of the sand and rocks. During the briefing, General Kenobi had described this as a tropical planet. So far, all they had encountered was flat rocky land and a scorching sun.

"Ugh, this place reminds me of Geonosis," Boil complained from beside him, "I thought General Kenobi said it was an oasis."

"It is an oasis once we get to our destination," Commander Cody said from above them on the tank. "How far out are we?" Waxer asked his Commander. "Only one klick, we should be there soon," Cody replied.

The soldiers and tanks continued to march forwards with nothing but dirt and rocks as far as the eye could see. The land was flat and they could see for miles. They didn't see any civilization anywhere on the horizon. Boil grumbled to himself again but Waxer paid no attention. The farther he walked the more the land in front of him began to change, it looked warped or distorted. It was only when he got to the crest did he realize that the land before him opened up into a valley. A river followed through the valley, providing the oasis Cody had mentioned. Lush trees and vegetation grew in abundance from what he could see, the complete opposite from the landscape above.

The platoon marched down into the valley and towards their destination. The location appeared to be free of enemies as it should be. The 104th had come through a few days before and wiped out the droid occupancy of the valley. The 212th were coming in behind to deliver supplies, medical aid, and food to the people, and also to help them rebuild.

At the sound of the tanks heavy footsteps drawing nearer to what they could now see was a village, the men could see people come running out of their homes. Men, women, and children stood just beyond the foliage, jumping up and down, cheering, celebrating, and welcoming the arrival of the soldiers. The tanks stopped outside the village and the men were greeted by exuberant villagers. They parted to make a path into the village center, cheering, clapping, some of them even reaching out to brush their fingers against the arms of the troopers. The children laid wide leaves at the soldiers feet for them to walk on and the women threw flower petals above their heads.

"I wish we got a warm welcome like this all the time," Waxer mused.

They were made a path into the center of the village where General Kenobi and Commander Cody spoke with the leaders. Everyone else got to work unloading supplies and rebuilding structures. Waxer was tasked with helping hand out the boxes of food. He and a few other clones had removed their helmets and were making sure the process was organized and running smoothly. He was standing off to the side checking the amounts of food boxes they had on a datapad, his helmet tucked under one arm. He felt something tap his leg and looked down. A little human girl probably no older than five was knocking on his shin guards. She stopped when she noticed she had his attention.

“Hi,” she greeted, her voice chipper and upbeat. “Hi,” Waxer responded with a smile.

“I made this for you,” she gently held a flower crown in her small hands, and lifted it up to him. Waxer kneeled down to be eye level with the youngster and set his datapad and helmet down. He took in the sight of several brightly colored small flowers strung together in a meticulous way he couldn’t quite understand.

“It’s beautiful, thank you,” he said, he reached out to accept the gift but the little girl pulled it back. “Can I put it on you?” Waxer was taken aback, an uncertain and slightly embarrassed blush coming to his face. “Um, sure.” He lowered his head and the small child carefully placed her floral gift atop his head. He pulled back and she began giggling at the sight of the soldier wearing a bright bunch of flowers on his head. Her contagious giggles were almost enough to drown out the sound of his brothers teasing him in the background.

“You look like a prince!” She exclaimed. “Do I?” He asked with a smile. “Yes! A prince in shining armor, and I’m the princess.” She explained enthusiastically.

Waxer bowed, “What do you require of me your highness?” He asked, matching the little girl's playful tone. She smiled and reached both her arms up to him, “Carry me to safety from the evil droids!” Her tone is still playful and lighthearted.

Waxer couldn’t help but smile at her innocence and playful nature and decided to play along. He swooped her up in his arms and swung her around, the action making her burst out into excited squeals and laughter. He brought her to rest on his side, one arm holding her up. “Where’s home, little’un?” She pointed off to their right and Waxer grabbed his helmet before starting off in that direction.

The little girl had her arms wrapped as far around his shoulders as she could. “I’m my mommy’s princess, is that your princess?” She pointed to the painting of the little Twi’lek girl on his helmet, Numa. He was confused for a moment before coming to a conclusion. Daughter, she meant daughter.

“No, she’s not my princess, but she’s a princess. I helped save her home from droids too,” he explained. “I wish I was as brave as you,” she said, resting her head on his chest, her hair tickling his cheek. “You will be someday, littl’un. Someday.”

Underneath the armor, Waxer was melting. This little girl was so innocent and compassionate, just like Numa. They didn’t deserve to get caught up in this war, they were just children, young and free of blame. They didn’t understand why the galaxy was fighting. Waxer felt for them. He wished he could save every single one and carry them away from danger. Boil had told him that he shouldn’t get too attached but Waxer couldn’t help it, he cared too much.

The youngster directed him down a few more streets until she said they were close. “What’s your name?” She asked suddenly. “I’m Waxer, what’s yours?” He replied.

“Aja!”

Waxer turned and saw a woman come jogging out of a nearby house, she stopped and walked the rest of the way to them. “Aja, I told you not to get in the soldiers' way,” she admonished. “But mom, I wanted to give him my present,” she said, lifting her head from his chest. Waxer was reminded of the flower crown that he had been wearing the entire time. “No worries, ma’am. She isn’t in the way at all, I enjoy her company,” he admitted to Aja’s mother.

Looking at the woman now he could see the resemblance between mother and daughter. They both had the same (h/c) hair, same nose and lips, only Aja’s eyes were a different color, undoubtedly a trait from her father. Her mother was beautiful, younger than he pictured, but radiant, she had a loving aura that seemed to emanate from her.

“Well, I’m glad,” the woman smiled. Her smile was gorgeous, intoxicating, and Waxer found himself smiling too. "Mommy, this is Waxer and he's a hero. He saved all the people," Aja explained. "I know, I saw," her mother said with a smile, "we appreciate the soldiers, don't we?" Aja nodded and rested her head back on his chest.

"I made you dinner, sweetheart. Why don't you go inside, I'll be there in a minute," her mother told.

Waxer set the girl down and she took off into the house. "Thank you for bringing her home," the woman addressed, "She likes to wander around and get into trouble." She offered him her hand, "(Y/n), you're Waxer?"

He shook her hand, "Yes ma'am, pleasure to meet you."

Waxer's cheeks tinged a light pink and the woman smiled, motioning to where her child disappeared through the door of her home. "Apologies if she got in your way. It's hard to keep track of her all by myself with so many other things to do."

"You're all alone?" Waxer questioned.

"Ever since her father died in a mining accident two years ago, yes. It's hard but we get through each day so I don't complain," she smiled. Waxer's heart went out to them. "Why don't you come inside? I've just made dinner, you should join us."

He was a bit stunned. "Uh, no thank you, ma'am-"

"(Y/n)."

"(Y/n), but I should be heading back," he said, "the men are probably missing me."

"Not as much as you're missing some good food I bet," she smirked, "Please, it's the least I can do. All least take some to bring to your men."

Waxer simply looked into her eyes, he was hooked on this woman and he had only just met her! There was something about her that he couldn't pinpoint that had him drawn to her. He couldn't say no, he didn't want to. He wanted to walk into her house and have dinner with her and her daughter and never leave. His mind was telling him it was wrong, but what he wanted in that moment was to fill that missing piece in both their lives.

Ever since Ryloth, since Numa, he has dreamt of one day being a father. Having children of his own with a woman he loved. Settling down somewhere in the mid rim, maybe on a farm or even opening a school. Being able to watch his children be free and play and live without having to worry about war or droids or invasions. He wanted so desperately to give his child what he never had.

"I do think they would love that actually," he finally said. (Y/n) smiled brightly, "Good, come with me." She took his hand in hers and he let her pull him into her home. "Wait right here, I'll get something for you to carry it in."

She left him just inside the door and disappeared into another room. The interior of the home was small, the walls and floor made out of a wood he'd never seen before. The ceiling was low and there were only two chairs and a small table in the center of the room. He had waited a couple minutes until he started hearing a strange whistling noise. He stepped outside and looked around, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He felt it before he heard it. The explosion shook the ground, it had landed not far away. Some of the nearby buildings crumbled, pieces falling into the streets. Screams of panicked villagers filled his ears, but one in particular stood out to him. He turned around and saw Aja come running out from the house.

“Waxer!” She screamed as she ran towards him. He kneeled down and caught her in his arms. “Aja, are you alright? Where’s your mother?” The little girl clung to him, her small body shaking with fear. “I don’t know I didn’t see her.” He heard a crash come from inside and a scream, Aja clung tighter to him and buried her head in his neck. Waxer shoved his helmet on his head and swooped Aja up in his arms, running into the house.

“(Y/n)!” He yelled, calling out for her. He made his way into the room he saw her enter and saw her lying on the floor, her leg crushed by a fallen piece of the ceiling. He rushed to her side, setting Aja down next to him. He put his hand to her cheek, beckoning her to come back to consciousness. “(Y/n), come back to me, c’mon.” She groaned in pain slowly tilting her head into his hand and coughing.

“Waxer? Where’s Aja?” She managed to lift her hand and place it on his wrist. “She’s fine, she’s right here,” he assured, “You’re badly injured, I need to get you out of here.” He pushed a button on his vambrace and his comm opened up, “Boil, I need you to come to my location. I have a severely injured civilian that needs medical attention now!” His brother responded, “Right, send me your coordinates, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

More of the house crumbled and shook around them, Aja screamed and latched herself to Waxer’s arm as he sent his location to Boil. “Aja, I need you to stand back, I have to get this debris off her, ok?” He gently pried her off of his arm and moved her back a few feet. He carefully removed the chunks of fallen ceiling and wall. Her leg looked worse than he originally thought, the bone was broken and he could see it poking out through the gash in her calf. He was able to register the sound of running behind him as he took in the sight of her injury.

“Alright I’m here, what do you need me for?” Boil said from behind him. He came to kneel next to Waxer and observed the situation. “She is hurt pretty bad, we need to get her back to the med tent at base.” Waxer motioned for Aja to come over by him, “You take the little one, I’ll take her,” he instructed, he turned to Aja, “you go with Boil, ok. I’ll be right behind you.” She nodded and wrapped her arms around Boil’s neck, he picked her up and waited while Waxer gently lifted the woman into his arms. She yelled out in pain as her injured limb was moved.

The pair of troopers made their way to the middle of the village. “Boil, do you know what’s going on?”

“Apparently, the Seps decided to leave a few tanks behind just in case. The General is taking care of them,” Boil informed. They got the girls to the med tent where the medics began tending to (Y/n)’s leg. She was fading in and out of consciousness and grabbing onto Waxer’s hand whenever she felt pain. He stayed by her side and kept Aja with him until the chaos settled down about 35 minutes later.

~~~~

The 212th stayed on the planet until General Kenobi was 100% sure there was no more threat. It had been three weeks since their arrival and everyday after the attack, Waxer, and occasionally a few of his brothers, came to your house for dinner. (Y/n)’s leg was set although she would have to use a hoverchair to get around until it fully healed. Waxer always helped make dinner and got quite good at cooking, Aja got used to having him around and had a new gift for him every time he came, even making flower crowns for all the brothers he brought with him. Waxer and you got very close, he took you on picnic dates to secluded parts of the valley. He stayed over several nights, stargazing and cuddling until you both fell asleep. It was obvious to pretty much everyone that you two were in love.

It was an emotional day when the 212th were due to leave. All three of you had cried over it the night before, you and Waxer sleeping with Aja in between to comfort her. Now, he stood in front of your house armored up, ready to depart. You were barely managing to hold back tears.

“We’ll miss you,” you sniffed.

“You know how much I’ll miss you,” he agreed. You managed a heartbroken smile. “Aja, come give Waxer the present you made.” The little girl walked out of the house, her eyes glued to the ground. You picked her up and Waxer could see her eyes, bright red and puffy from crying. “I made this for you, to remember me,” she said.

She held out a beaded chain, made with all numbers of bright colors. Waxer took it, looking it over in his hands. “It’s perfect, I’ll keep it forever,” he said. Aja looked up at him and lunged into his arms from yours. He caught her and held her tight to him, hugging her for the last time.

“Please come back soon, daddy,” She cried into his armor. Waxer looked at you and held Aja tighter, his heart breaking even more. “I’ll come back, princess. I promise.” She ran back into the house once he put her down. You fished something out of your pocket.

“I made this,” you held a charm in your hand and put it onto the beaded chain, “to go with, so you never forget me.” His hand flew to your cheek, “I could never forget you.” You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, a tear escaping through the crease in your eyelids. “Promise me, when the war is over, you’ll come back to be with Aja and me,” you pleaded. “It’ll be the first thing I do,” he assured. You chuckled through your tears, “I think you’ll need to buy a ship first.” He smiled and pulled you into his arms, holding you, never wanting to let go.

“I love you, Waxer.”

“I love you too, (Y/n).”

You pulled back just enough to give him the last kiss you would ever share. Little did you know then, you’d die waiting for him to come back.

[glimmerglanger]

Whumptober2020 - Day 7

Day 7 of Whumptober and Part 7 of the Oof!au. This is.... rock bottom, everyone. On the plus side: no where to go but up. On the downside....this is where Anakin remembers how to really hurt Obi-Wan, after being distracted for a long time. 

Basic information: Post Order 66 Vader-Captures-Obi-Wan AU. Past/eventual Codywan. One-sided Vaderwan. Eventual happy(ish) ending.

WARNINGS: Abuse of a prisoner, mentions of torture, mind controlled into killing people, mentions of non-con, character death (not main characters). PLEASE consider the warnings before you read. Dead dove, do not eat, etc. This is the lowest we go. It’s VERY low.

No 16. A TERRIBLE, HORRIBLE, NO GOOD, VERY BAD DAY 

Forced to Beg | Hallucinations | Shoot the Hostage

 Obi-Wan laughed, shakily, when he woke up again in the cell. The sound just slipped out, and something about the tone of it made him clench his teeth shut, swallow it back. It soured in his chest, held tight within him as he breathed raggedly, trying to find balance and--and succeeding, after too long a moment.

He thought about leveraging himself off of the floor, but could see no point to it. He pulled his legs up, instead, making himself small, shifting to wedge himself further into the corner.

All the wounds were gone. Every single one of them, wiped away again by the med-droids. The sudden lack of them was jarring, confusing. It made everything that had happened feel more like a dream. Like a nightmare.

But even his nightmares - foul as they were - never managed to be so viscerally horrible. He stared at the far wall, trying very hard not to remember the way Cody - it wasn’t Cody, it hadn’t been Cody, not really, just  his body used as another way for Anakin to rape him - had shoved into him, held him down and--

He bit his tongue until blood flooded his mouth and then he swallowed it, grounding himself on the pain and the nauseating taste of salt and copper. He hadn’t had many pleasant memories to keep him company, during his exile. He’d barely dared allow himself to remember softer touches, promises of what they might do after the war, wants bubbling between them…

Once, he’d imagined taking Cody to his bed, after - after everything. When there were not so many responsibilities on them. When he could be sure, utterly, that it was what Cody wanted, not just rank, or - or anything else. He’d imagined kissing Cody softly, taking their time, sharing touches that didn’t hurt at all, and-- Anakin had taken that hope and made it something foul and horrible. There’d been no kisses, there’d been only - only pain and --

Pain and, he considered, swallowing blood, his mind looking desperately for anything else to focus on, the off-rhythm tapping of Cody’s index finger against his hip. It had been the only thing he could focus on that didn’t hurt, taking himself out of his own head, there in Anakin’s torture chamber.

The tapping had made no sense, not in the room, when horror had driven thought from Obi-Wan’s head. But...but he had time to consider it, further, staring at nothing, remembering despite all of his best efforts.

Memories crawled into his head, recollections from the war, from hunkering down beside Cody behind a makeshift barrier, gesturing instructions, preparing to spring out on the droids closing on their position, Cody knocking his fingers against the top of Obi-Wan’s thigh in the same pattern and--

And they’d developed the short-hand language themselves, at first just to kill time when they were stuck on one miserable world or the other. It had made sense to have signs of their own; the Separatists were always cracking Republic codes. Obi-Wan thought, with the benefit of hindsight, that had probably been intentional on Palpatine’s part.

So, they’d made their own language to speak silently in battle, to communicate plans and ideas quickly. 

Obi-Wan sat up, his heart lurching in his chest, all at once, as memory shoved together the facts inside his head, leaving him gasping. 

Because Cody had been tapping code onto his hip, their code - the 212th’s code - the language not even Anakin had ever learned. “No,” he’d said. “No,” over and over and over and over, against Obi-Wan’s skin.

Obi-Wan lurched to his feet with nowhere to go, bile burning up the back of his throat, his heart clenched hard in his chest. He did not know what had been done to the troopers. He’d been afraid to hope it could be undone. But-- but Cody remembered something. And he’d said “no,” over and over again. He’d talked to Obi-Wan. He’d--

He was in there, somewhere.

And that changed everything.

Obi-Wan stood there, breathing heavily, and tried to determine what he was possibly going to do next. He tried to remember if he’d - he’d told Cody it was alright. If Cody were in there, if he’d been tormented, too, had Obi-Wan said the right things? Had he said anything? His memories were a blur of pain and confusion. But he thought he had. He held onto that thought, tightly, as he tried to plan his next steps.

#

There was not much Obi-Wan could possibly do. He did not know where Anakin had gone and did not much care. He braced, every time a trooper entered the room, recalling Anakin’s last words, but…

None of them made any move to touch him in such a way. He wondered if the troopers had simply not relayed Anakin’s orders, or if the very wording just made no sense to them in their current state. What did they know of joy, he wondered, watching them file in to feed him.

Still, he tapped out, quickly, “Thank you,” on Cody’s thigh, when they fed him, and felt him go still all over for a moment. And it was enough to kindle the failing sparks of hope inside Obi-Wan’s chest.

Cody was in there, somewhere. They were all in there, somewhere.

Obi-Wan would get them all out. Because if Cody had retained some piece of himself… There was no reason to believe it wasn’t true for the rest of them. Others had tapped against his skin, he recalled, shivering as his thoughts raced. They were still in their minds. Somehow.

And like hell was Obi-Wan going to leave him men to suffer this un-death, this un-making of all they were. He’d sworn to protect them, long ago. He’d failed in so many of his vows and duties. He wouldn’t fail that one.

#

Obi-Wan had not managed to escape by the time Anakin returned. He braced himself as the troopers came for him, pulling him to his feet and hauling him through the base, wondering what new horrors Anakin had devised to unleash upon him.

Anakin had left the viewscreen open, again. The contact turmoil of Mustafar filled the room with angry, red light. It was a reminder, every time, of all of Obi-Wan’s mistakes and failings. He had failed to keep Anakin from falling to the Dark. And then he had failed to take the final, necessary step there on the edge of the lava.

He’d paid for his mistakes, but so had the rest of the galaxy.

He wouldn’t fail again, if given the chance.

He shook those thoughts aside as Anakin said, “I do hope you’re going to be more reasonable this time, old man.”

“I doubt that,” Obi-Wan replied. Talking still hurt. And he was no longer sure if his voice would ever return to its normal state. “I think you rather enjoy having an excuse to inflict pain, don’t you? If I didn’t provide you with one, you’d have to go to all the trouble of manufacturing a reason to hurt me.”

Anakin made a sharp sound, turned half-away and snapped, “Get on your knees.”

Obi-Wan sighed. He wondered why they had to keep engaging in this song and dance. They both knew he wasn’t going to kneel under his own power. But perhaps it brought Anakin whatever twisted kind of joy he could feel, in his present condition, to hold out the illusion of choice. Obi-Wan said, waiting for the pain, “I won’t.”

Anakin nodded, which was a surprise and a change from their usual script. He swept away from the open window, stalking over to his throne and sitting. He said, “I thought you’d say that, Obi-Wan. But I think you’ll change your mind. I’ve had an epiphany, you see.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan asked, arching an eyebrow. “Perhaps you’ve realized--”

“2224,” Anakin interrupted, and Obi-Wan worked to keep his expression still and calm as the unbroken surface of a lake. So, it was to be more of this particular torment. He tried to keep the revulsion and horror off of his face, tried--

“Draw your blaster.” Obi-Wan blinked, startled. It seemed unlikely that Anakin intended to actually kill him. Death would mean an end to whatever enjoyment Anakin drew from torturing him. And merely making the threat without any intent to carry it out would… defang him. 

He said, lifting his chin, “I’m not going to beg for my life.”

Anakin lifted his chin, just a little, mask ever unchanging but pleasure in his voice when he said, “Oh, I know that.” And then he waved a hand, lazy, and added, “Shoot 4574.”

Something froze inside Obi-Wan’s chest. He jerked to look, turning in time to hear the blaster shot, to watch Trip sway on his feet and then just - just collapse, down and back, smoke curling from his temple. Cody had shot him cleanly, at least he hadn’t suffered, more, but--

“Stop!” Obi-Wan cried out, the word a rasp through his damaged throat. He looked back at Anakin, wide-eyed. “What are you--”

“Shoot 6762 next,” Anakin said, hands gripping the edge of his throne, leaning forward a little, and Obi-Wan couldn’t--he wasn’t even getting time to do anything to stop it, watching another one of his men fall. “Now 34--”

There was no thought to dropping to his knees. Obi-Wan hit hard, not even bothering to try to steady himself. It hurt, but it was a distant, far away kind of pain. “Ah,” Anakin said, pleasure and satisfaction dripping off of his tone. 

“Ever the Jedi,” Anakin said, and Obi-Wan heard him stand but could not look away from Cody, standing there blank-faced, the blaster still up, pointing towards Bones, who was just standing there, waiting to die. “Even now. Even with the Order completely and justly destroyed. You’ve always been weak like this, haven’t you? I was working with the Zygerrians, of late. It reminded me. I wonder how weak you are, really?”

Obi-Wan looked up at him, breathing raggedly. He said, “Don’t hurt them.”

“I will do as I wish,” Anakin said. “2224--”

“No!” Obi-Wan shouted, as best as he could, his voice was still wrong. “I’m--”

“Put the blaster against your head.” And Obi-Wan froze, his heart lurching sideways in his chest, agony sweeping through him. He turned, helplessly, watching Cody lift the blaster and snug the barrel against his temple without any evidence of hesitation. The world shifted, terribly, under Obi-Wan, his gut lurching.

From somewhere far away, Anakin said, “Pull the--”

“Please, don’t,” Obi-Wan gasped out, the words dragged out of him. “I’m kneeling. Please.”

Anakin hesitated and shook his head. He sounded… disgusted when he said, ”Look at you. Begging for the life of this thing. Even after what it did to you.”

Obi-Wan rasped out, “He didn’t do anything to me. You--”

He cut off as fingers clenched into his hair, dragging his head back, forcing him to look up into Anakin’s dark mask. “It beat you almost to death,” Anakin hissed, “it forced itself on you. Didn’t it?”

Obi-Wan’s heart beat against his ribs, uncomfortably fast. The threat of the blaster against Cody’s head echoed between each word Anakin spoke. And the truth would not serve him, in that instant. It wouldn’t serve Cody. Obi-Wan swallowed and lied, “Yes.”

Anakin’s grip tightened briefly in his hair, Anakin’s breath hitched, tellingly. He shifted a little closer, a looming shadow, and his voice had gotten raspy when he said, “Call me by my name.”

And Obi-Wan weighed the lie against Cody’s life, for less than an instant, because it was no contest. He stared up into his own reflection, knowing he’d do whatever was necessary to keep Cody’s finger from pulling that trigger, ever again, and said, “Lord Vader.”

“There,” Anakin said, satisfaction curling around the word as he reached out, cupping Obi-Wan’s cheek, “that wasn’t so hard, was it? All the pain you went through, just to avoid two little words. It wasn’t worth it, was it, Obi-Wan?”

Obi-Wan’s gut was hard and cold as rock, but he kept his voice steady, lying, “No.”

“I like you like this,” Anakin said, voice rumbling. “Agreeable. On your knees.” He stroked his thumb up, across Obi-Wan’s cheek. “But I’m not sure I’ve been convinced to spare 2224, here. It's defective, you know. Keeping it around is a drain on resources.”

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, because he did not need the Force to read this situation. He’d been in the hands of sadists more times than he could count, the power mad and and the power hungry. And he knew Anakin, better than anyone in the galaxy ever had, perhaps. “Please, Lord Vader, don’t kill him.”

Anakin made a little sound, thoughtful. “That’s the best you can do?”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught, just for a second, something breaking in his chest. It felt like his heart. “I’m begging you,” he said, and heard Anakin make a surprised, thick sound. “Please.” And he swallowed, tipping his head forward, as much as he could with Anakin’s fingers in his hair, “Please, spare him.”

“I don’t know,” Anakin said, tugging him forward, just a little, taking his hand off of Obi-Wan’s face, reaching for his armor, instead, Obi-Wan’s stomach turning over as nausea surged up his throat. “I’m not convinced, yet.”

“Please,” he said, his voice steady through sheer force of will as he made himself wet his bottom lip, knowing where this was going, seeing the terrible conclusion like the edge of a cliff, one he had no choice but to run over, because the alternative was letting any more of his men die, and he wouldn’t do that. Ever. “Let me convince you.”

And when it was done, when Anakin released his hair and let him slump down, gasping for breath, his mouth aching and his throat sore, his vision blurry, Anakin said, “I suppose that’s good enough. For now. You’ve always used your mouth well. Put the blaster away, 2224. And get him cleaned up. Bring him to my quarters when he’s...presentable. I wish to celebrate my victory properly.”

Anakin strode away then, cloak snapping, head high. He’d always been so smug, after a victory. Obi-Wan shuddered, shaking all over, waiting to be hauled to his feet. Nothing happened, for a long moment, long enough for him to look up, though he did not want to look into Cody’s face, at the moment, shame curdling in his gut at what he’d done--

Cody was staring forward, blaster still against his head, his free hand down by his side, finger jumping, tapping out, out-of-rhythm, “No, no, no, no, no.” There was blood, running down the side of his neck, and horror kicked over fresh and new in Obi-Wan’s gut.

“It’s alright,” Obi-Wan blurted, his heart shattering a bit more in his chest with each beat. But-- but his heart had broken to pieces before. He’d kept living. “Cody, please, put the blaster down, please, don’t--”

Obi-Wan jerked when two other troopers grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet, where he swayed, feeling disoriented and dizzy, sick. Cody had not moved at all, by the time the troopers dragged Obi-Wan through the door, past the bodies of their dead brothers, who they didn’t even regard. “Cody! Don’t! Please!”

Obi-Wan hung onto the sight of him as the droids cleaned him up, as troopers dragged him back to Anakin’s rooms - not his throne room, but - but what appeared to be his actual quarters. There were troopers in the room. Lined up along one wall. A single trooper across from them, blaster drawn, finger on the trigger. Anakin looked him over and said, his voice thick and rasping, “Get on the bed.”

Obi-Wan thought about a blaster pressed against the side of Cody’s head, about Padmé, about the slaughtered younglings, his family, his men, the only people he had left, who needed him…. And he turned, looked at the bed, and said, “Yes, Lord Vader.”

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

The Dark Side of the Full Moon (5/9) Were!Rex x Reader

A/N: Hey everybody! I hope you are doing well! I really struggled with this chapter and I will admit, it is pretty tacky, but this is super self indulgent so I kinda don’t care lol. I hope that you guys still enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be tagged whenever I upload a new chapter of this fic!

Length: ~2000 word

Warnings: ANGST. Descriptions of blood and injury.

Previous - Next

Your lungs were burning as you ran through the ghostly forest, the trees a blur as you sped past them. The muscles in your legs were screaming with each step you took and the skin on your hips had been rubbed raw from the belt that held the weight of your sword. But you did not care. The only thing on your mind was finding Rex.

 You, Cody, and Wolffe had run back to the woods that lie just down the road from your bakery and started following the tracks that led deeper into the trees. The light of the full moon had been casting menacing shadows upon the snow that surrounded the tracks as it shone through the bare branches of the trees.

 You had been running for a while now and the trees started to get more and more dense as you headed toward the heart of the forest, each one that you passed becoming thicker and taller showing its old age.

The tracks weaved in and out of the trees until they led the three of you to a large clearing. You stopped, leaning up against one of the trees to catch your breath. The forest was still silent. The only thing you could hear was the sound of heavy breathing and the wind blowing past your ears. None of you said anything to each other. Cody just looked at you and Wolffe and nodded his head, a silent reminder that you did not have much time.

 As you were about to push yourself off of the support of the tree, you heard a haunting howl echoing in the distance. You froze and your head whipped around to look at Cody’s stunned face. You pulled your coat tighter around you and started getting ready to run again when Wolffe grabbed your arm.

 “Wait,” he said as you turned to look at him. “It’s going to be impossible for us to catch up to him.” You looked at him as he contemplated the situation. “Is it possible to get him to come to us?”

 Your eyebrows shot up in surprise and you turned to Cody. “Would that work? Did he ever respond when this happened before?”

 Cody furrowed his brow. “I… don’t know,” he said. “I never tried before. I would just take him to the training arena and let him run around in there until he tired himself out.”

 You looked back at Wolffe as he stuck the torch into the ground. He looked at you and you nodded, urging him to go ahead with what he was thinking. He took a couple of steps and brought his hands up to cup his mouth and he howled out into the night.

 Wolffe brought his hands back down and gazed into the distance as he listened for a response. You all sat there, motionless. Not wanting to miss a single sound.

 You waited. Listening for anything that could lead you to Rex. Your breath appeared in front of you every so often while you stood impatiently in the snow.

 You were about to give up hope when there came a response from deep within the woods. You sucked in a breath and Wolffe snapped his head to look at you.

 “What should we do,” you asked.

 Wolffe though for a moment before walking over to a tree with a low hanging branch. He snapped it off and then cleared a small plot of snow. “Let’s set up in this clearing. If we can get Rex to come to us, we have a better chance of him not hurting us and us not hurting him.” He continued to grab branches off of the trees and bushes that surrounded the clearing, placing them into the center of the cleared ground. He then grabbed the torch and ignited the pile. “He’s going to be cold when he transforms back.”

 You nodded and looked at Cody. You both worked quickly, amassing a pile of branches that could be thrown on the fire before you started discussing your plan for changing Rex back.

 The three of you were sitting in the snow around the fire as Cody spoke. “Wolffe and I can use the rope to tie him down. If we use the crossbows to anchor it into the ground, that should give you enough time to draw his blood with the vine.” He looked at you hopefully and tersely nodded. He then looked to Wolffe. “We have to be sure to give Y/N enough time to get close to him without him breaking free.” Cody looked back to you. “He’s extremely powerful so you will only get a few seconds. A minute at most.”

 “I’ll be quick,” you reassured him.

 He turned back to Wolffe, loading his crossbow. “If we can surprise him, it will be easier to pin him down.”

 Wolffe nodded. “You and I could climb up into the trees. It’ll give us a better angle to shoot too. We would have a better change of not hitting him.”

 Cody nodded and stood up. “You both ready?”

 You and Wolffe both rose from your spots on the cold ground, giving Cody a silent confirmation.

 The three of you walked to the center of the clearing and looked at each other. Cody smiled and put his hand on your shoulder after seeing the worried look on your face. “He’ll be alright. I promise we won’t hurt him.”

 You returned his small smile. “I know.”

 You looked at Wolffe and he gave you a small smile in reassurance. He then rolled his neck and nodded at you and Cody. “You ready to make some noise?”

 You smiled, turned toward the forest, and brought your hands up to your mouth. You howled up toward the moon as loud as you could. Cody and Wolffe followed suit and howled as loud as they could into the night sky.

 The three of you would howl and call out Rex’s name, stopping each time you did to listen for a response. Each time, the howl back getting closer and closer.

 The forest was alive with your voices, and with each thundering sound, your hope grew. You had just stopped you latest attempt and listened for a response.

 Another howl came from the distance, much louder than before. You smiled at Cody. “He’s getting closer.” Your throat was starting to get sore, but you felt better about your chances than you did at the start of the night.

 Cody looked at you, his face softening when suddenly a twig snapped just outside of the clearing. The three of you spun around to face the sound and Wolffe stepped in front of you protectively. You drew your sword and he and Cody drew their bows and pointed them at the trees. Wolffe lowered his voice. “I think we may have attracted something else on accident.”

 The three of you stood in silence, waiting for whatever made the sound. You heard the crunching of footsteps and the sound of something being dragged through the snow.

 “I have a bad feeling about this,” you said peering into the darkness that surrounded the clearing.

 A voice rang out through the forest. “As you should my dear. After all, you did go looking for trouble that you had no business being in.”

 Wolffe and Cody lowered their bows slightly and looked at each other, confusion written on their features at recognizing the voice. You stepped up between them and focused on the figure that was immerging from the shadows, dragging a body behind him.

 “You,” you gasped, not believing what you were seeing.

 Tarkin walked out of the shadows with a confident and pleased smile plastered on his face. He held a beaten and bloody Kix by the collar as he dragged his motionless body though the snow. “I’m honestly a bit insulted that this was all you sent as a defense.” He threw Kix down into the snow at his feet.

 You could see that Kix’s hands were bound behind his back and that his face was swollen and bloody. He softly groaned when he hit the ground face first. His coat had been torn to shreds and was barely covering the countless wounds that adorned his body. His breathing was weak, and he wasn’t moving, but he was alive.

 You took a step forward, ready to charge with your sword when Cody grabbed your arm, pulling you back. You looked back at him, the anger building up inside you only to see a haunting look of understanding wash over Cody’s face.

 “How long have you known,” he demanded, his voice firm.

 Tarkin raised an eyebrow at Cody mockingly as he began to carefully remove his gloves. “Oh, I’ve known for quite some time Commander. You see, the Republic Kingdom has been at a stalemate for months. We have been losing supplies and soldiers and money because of this.” He tossed his gloves down onto Kix’s motionless form and began to slowly undo the buttons on his coat. “The Chancellor approached me looking for ideas on how to increase the might of our military. I was kind enough to provide a solution.” He smiled, recounting the memory. “I proposed that if we could train the ones fighting to learn how to control themselves when in a werewolf state, we would have the most powerful military on this planet. The Kingdom of the Republic would be an unstoppable force!”

 The three of you stood there, the fury and urge to fight building up inside of you.

 Tarkin continued. “I knew that this would be a dangerous and difficult task to deliver on, so I asked if I could test my idea. You see, people who are born werewolves can control when they transform, they just have to do it at least once every month. But those who are infected by a werewolf involuntarily transform during a full moon. They lose all control.” He looked up at the full moon and then to Cody’s bandaged face. “As you have no doubt come to discover Commander.” He mockingly smiled at Cody as he raised his crossbow to point directly at Tarkin.

 “What’s your point,” he screamed at Tarkin. “Why Rex?”

 Tarkin scoffed. “The point Commander, is that if I could test how you Fett’s respond to being infected I could figure out a way to train you to control it. If the captain responded to you, that means that he could eventually be reached by anybody. It seems like he was starting to gain some sense of control, or else you would have been killed tonight.”

 You heard Wolffe growl behind you as both of his crossbows came to focus directly on Tarkin. His fingers ready on the triggers.

 “As for why, it was mostly opportunity.” Tarkin took off his coat and discarded it along with his gloves onto Kix’s still unmoving form. “I would have preferred you, but that blasted captain took your patrol.”

 You took in a shaky breath. “So why come out here? Why tell us all of this?”

 Tarkin ominously chuckled and turned his intimidating eyes toward you. “For the same reason I dragged this half-breed out here,” he said motioning to Kix. “I can’t have you undoing all of my work and we are quite a ways from Coruscant. No one knows where any of you are and we are deep enough into the forest that no one will find any of you for quite some time.”

 Wolffe stepped in front of you and Cody and tightened his grip on his crossbows. “You’ll die first,” he roared out.

 Tarkin only smiled and squared his stance. “I wouldn’t be so sure of yourself Commander.”

 Pure fear began to course through you as Tarkin began to grow bigger and bigger, his features morphing and light grey fur starting to cover his entire body. His clothes began to rip at the seams, and the two men beside you each readied their weapons. You began to shake as your grip on your sword tightened. Your head followed Tarkins form as it continued to rise above you, until it stopped.

 Tarkin squared his stance on his four legs and growled, his sharp teeth protruding from his mouth. He stared the three of you down, ready to attack. He lunged forward and Wolffe and Cody fired, sending arrows through the freezing air of the night.

[pear-pies]

音像世界 [Audiovisual World] - Sept 2006

a very wonky but delightful translation under the cut

Placebo ; We are the 21st century modern rock band                        Text/Interview with Zhang Weiwei/Xingyue 

On the first day of "2006 Beijing Pop Music Festival", "Placebo" Perform on the main stage of the company. "Placebo" is hailed as "the most Record the distinctive British music yin", this is their first time on the Chinese stage. Long talk will undoubtedly be a feast for listening to you. Mission to the last century In 1996, one named Brian Moco )lkO) boy,’ painted Seven eyes Liangying, leaving pitch black  Childish behavior:  ‘The violent red color I'm learning girls like a demon Sing a song "Nancy Kid" When I vent without hesitation Stupid material life and The emotion brought by the ft world. From the moment on stage, cloth Who is the backlog in my heart Thrown in front of the world, lead Shoulder, reputation, obsession and even People band one by one "placebo" Horribly turned out, "(Radiohead)s" "'Oasis" (Oasis) Three The altar adds a stunning                                                             Household Don't one by one Lane was born into a wealthy Bank entrepreneur, mother Christianity. Childhood, Tossed in Scotland, Libby Between Schlossburg. Serious  , And moved countless times Dogs have no fixed partners in childhood Jidu is lonely, even learning

The classmates and teachers in the school are also particularly alienated, plus , My parents ignored because of busy banking  , The physical and psychological growth of his son, Bryan from 11 I have been learning from the streets, newspapers and magazines since I was Factory women give themselves makeup and always like to surround  Women go round and round.     When he was 16 years old, his parents gave him a copy  Telecaster guitar, very sensitive to music  Brian soon bought a real price  A real guitar, and I've been obsessed with playing guitar ever since,  So that everyone can often see it on stage  Brian gently hugged the guitar one by one  He plays the role of a mother in his life  Important role. But in fact, Bryan’s parents  Straightforwardly oppose him to engage in art-father-  I want to let Brian inherit his career and become a  Bankers one by one Blaine began to use gender boundaries  Vaguely neutral dress to resist father and family  Against pressure. Until the end, Brian and his father  There is no longer any contact or exchange. In 1990, 18-year-old Brian left the family.  Came to London alone and entered Gold  Smiths Academy of Art and Drama Studies (British  The prestigious Royal Academy of Art, "Blur"  Former guitarist Graham Coxon  Coxon) also graduated from the college J. Cloth at this time  Ryan has been able to skillfully play a variety of instruments such as Ji  Him, keyboard, bass, drums, saxophone, and even DJing,  He also worked as a DJ in several clubs, but he was honest  Say that I am not very good at being a DJ0    By chance in 1994, Brian Kensington subway station encountered a later career ride   Stefan Olsdal,}     Invite him to form a band with himself and join in one,   Club performance. Osdo listened to Brian   Immediately after the song was attracted, not only that, he   , Put his Swedish friend Robert Schutz   (Robert Schultzberg) pulls into the music    Be a drummer (until 1996). Until later   , Bryan also emphasized that Osdo accepted his The moment I invited to the band was my whole life E one of the unforgettable moments. During this period, Bligh En called the band "Ashtray Heart" (Ashtray Heart) Heart)0   After quickly gaining awareness, they The band was renamed "placebo". Soon, Caroline Records has recognized this and A different young band.   In 1996, Robert Schutzberger The conflict with Brian increased and left the band, from Therefore, the position of the drummer has always been Steve Huey 特 (Steve Hewitt) instead. In the same year, the band The first album of the same name "Placebo" (Placebo) released Row. Singles "Nancy Kid" and "Young Rage" (Teertage Angst) immediately became a hit single, The stubborn and rebellious children of the entire Yao British Empire Was boosted by this three-person band, "placebo" It seems that they have been able to relieve their psychological barriers A great pill for manic heart. Just as Brian is different from   Ordinary costumes-mascara, eyeshadow, full lips, ～ Nail polish, skirts, this series will only show up The characteristics of a woman’s body are now affected by a height,The British man who is less than 1.75 meters boldly and naturally used to dress himself up. The British media took advantage of the trend and gave him the title of "fashionable Bowie". "Media reporters like to make boo heads. Maybe it's because life in the UK has always been so dull and boring. That's why they were surprised when they met me and yelled. I like "Sonic Youth" and "Sonic Youth". "Pixies", I prefer to dress myself up as I want to appear on the stage, in the MV and even in life. I just enjoy such an open-self lifestyle." Brian shrugged and said softly. In a tedious and lengthy interview after a TV show performance, Brian deliberately pointed the guard ｝l to the male reporter’s chest, so that the reporter was tossed by the sly Brian that he had no intention of continuing the interview. Go on, while Hewitt and Stephen are laughing together. After the album of the same name was released, the band easily got the mainstream record company Virgin In November 1998, he quickly recorded and released the second album "No "Without You I'm Nothing". This album has a rare change in the depth of the lyrics and Brian’s vocals compared to the first album. Brian in "Pure Morning" lowered his throat and reluctantly sang "Send charcoal in the snow." "A Friend in Need A Friend Indeed" (A Friend in Need A Friend Indeed). A famous sentence like household. Bryan, dressed in black, jumped out of the building and walked straight down the wall. The MV for this song was also planned by Bryan. A keen listener can find from this Xin album that the alcohol, drugs, and erosive relationships in "Nancy Kid" have changed to the mixed emotions and emotions toward urban men and women in "Every You Every Me".

The rhetoric of the low-level media is more intense. Every large-scale live performance, "placebo" In order to pursue the perfect sound effect comparable to the recording studio, Always bring fixed musicians with them Stage performance, and these fixed musicians also accompanied Placement has gone through a worthy 10 years. Although But on the stage they always hide without light In the dark, but they are the same as the "placebo" three The relationship between the members is like a formal team member. Observant Fans will also find that "Velvet Gold Mine" These regular musicians also participated. And "Ann Placement" "Believe in Me" held in Paris (Soulmates Never Die) large concert now The DVD and MV compilation are everybody’s Placement" a precious treasure that loyal fans must collect, The Paris concert not only included the "placebo" essence Cham’s hot live performance also hides a 30 Minute tour documentary, including how the three escaped Avoid the chase of fans and talk about the fun in the lounge Bryan teaches you how to draw eyeshadow and sightseeing Precious fragments of time crazy Stefan. "Placebo" will play an electrified style The ultimate is the new album released this year Meds; compile the album cover with "Sleep with the Elves"

It’s exactly the same, it seems to come from the same designer              hand. As Brian said, in the past 10 years he’              We work hard to find a position and style that suits us,              Looking for an invisible limit. Bryan and Le              The team has been trying to get out of this restriction, out of them              Have experienced, followed, intoxicated, avoided              A sensitive area that has been and moved by. Although cloth              Leith now has a child named Cody              Zihe ~ a touching wife who maintains a stable relationship with him              One by one wife, son, and teammates are all Bligh              En is deeply loved one by one, but Brian is uneasy in his blood              The molecules make him feel full of emotion and sensitive heart              The world has never changed. Now the "placebo" starts              Putting aside some long-standing conventions, in the new album              Significantly reduced the iconic guitar distortion, the band              Focus boldly with a more fashionable electrified style              With drugs, alcohol, and love, it’s like a giant record jacket              The naked, twisted, and shouting woman, "Ann              The placebo" bravely broke free from the past              System", more calmly standing in the British rock music              front.The growth of the Bone Association Band? I am very happy with the growth of the band. Our growth and success are all through long-term hardship...Shan:1 Linde. It’s been an almost uninterrupted tour for 10 years. This is a relatively old-fashioned way of running Cantonese. "(The tail is also what we like very much. The live performance of the mountain and the constant currency" requires that you can get yourself in it. In the early days of the band’s establishment, we had already decided to deliver the music to our listeners in the most direct way. What do you think of the development of Yaoi’i Gun Music? "Lonz Ferdinand" (1,s,i Pordinand), "Arctic Monkeys" (Arctic Monkeys). "The Kooki"; do you think they really have "material"? Just because they are from the same island does not mean they are anointing Le Buya! What is in common. Of course "Franz Ferdinand" and "Arctic Monkey" must be influenced by the music of IJ Moji {Fei, in my heart! Bu! . He is a very good band in J1IJ4 II. Especially the L tail, "Arctic Monkey r", their "material" lies in the quality of their Shule creations. They are very humorous, full of the strong vitality of the factory, modern city, and very British creative style. What they are telling Very interesting, but also very "human", very    A true story is a very realistic expression Present form. I think if the "street boy" (The Streets) is a rock band, they          '   It will be the "Arctic Monkey". I personally have always been very happy   Happy "Franz Ferdinand", from their first    An album begins. They are from Scotland and also   It brings another kind of cultural experience.      What I want to say is that although there are so many    Success bands are all from the UK, but they don’t    Not necessarily have something in common, nor is it necessarily    It means that rock music in the UK will be more    Good or worse. Good is good, bad is good    Is bad, there is no need to divide by region   Standards.      What kind of concept do you hold on creation?      We are a rock band, just like I    We are a modern rock music    team. We enjoy using various tools and equipment    The possibility of creating music. Rock music is not only    It’s a simple guitar with electronic elements    Not only can be used in a certain kind of special music    In the category. The key to its function depends on you    How to use it and how to integrate it better   In your own music category.     Was the grunge trend in the U.S.    Has any influence on you or a British band? You like   Is Grunge Fun?     I never really liked it   Grunge, I have never heard of "Nirvana" (Nirvana)    Music until Kurt Coben (Kurt Cobain) passed away. For me, "nirvana"     Too mainstream T0 I am more interested in those very Alternative bands, like "Sonic Youth" (Sonic Youth), or the late 70s, 80s   Post-punk band in the early years.      What do you think of as a British band   American culture?      We ourselves think that "placebo" is a    European bands. Of course we were founded in London.    Half of my blood is Scottish, history of drummer   The name "Friend (Steve Hewitt) is of British descent,   Stefan Olsdal is a Swedish. We   Speaks many languages, Stephen speaks 5 languages,    I speak French and English. We grew up in Europe  There are K people from the I1 family in Zhou, we see ourselves as Europeans,    I don’t think I have any special UK   Pity. We can, will historically and geographically    The music of the country and the era is biased. Ok    Meeting the music and blood should be interpreted, and it is truly   I found it at Ill lii.} I don’t care if the music comes from Which country, as long as it can move people. but I I want to say: "I'm very happy that I will be in Europe Life".   Countless tours and publicity all over the world make people Enjoy it?   I enjoy the tour, but not the publicity. But it is equally important. In the past 10 years, We have been through live performances all over the world Accumulated a group of very loyal and sincere fans. Every year, the number of our fans grows very much View. Although it takes a lot of time to do this, it also gives me We added a lot of fun.   You know there are many "placebos" in China Fans? They are very obsessed with "placebo" The violent distortion guitar and your charming voice, even Even when playing the piano is hot, many fans want to know the invitation, What do you think of your fans.   Ah, haha, of course I hope so. "I must wait until Ij comes to Beijing in September to learn about Chinese musicWhat a fan is like, I look forward to it very much.   It’s not just heterosexual people. Placement", many gays also like you We, what do you think is the reason that makes "Ann Does "Placement" attract different fascinating groups?   Great! I think this is great! I think For our honesty in emotions and the truth in life Desire to communicate, um, if our music can move people, it must be physically,There are three aspects, both mentally and emotionally.    You are now a father What kind of impact? The kind of perplexed and perverted Dong Is Xijijing completely far away from you?   Honestly, no. As for myself Those who are confused and perverse, maybe less A little bit. But now there is another person Let me care, need my protection, so that it will not be this Hurt by a huge bad world.   You have always loved to dress up, you still Do you love applying black nail polish to yourself?   I have not bought black nail polish for many years Yes, but I still paint eyeliner and eye shadow. I do Did not try to do anything special through these performances Communication, in addition to thinking that people should dress up, Freedom in dress, choice and preference, not affected by Constrained by any established standard. If hard If any message is conveyed, it is freedom. But I do this entirely because I like it, I think I look great like that, like a The mentality of a lady with makeup.  How do you think a man should make his evening watch more cultured and tasteful? I think in the 21st century, men should be free, Wear what they like and dress up like they like Huan look. In comparison, women are more They can wear skirts or they can wear Pants, they can make up or not, They can look bright and beautiful, or they can watch Go up and take control. In the 20th century, men’s The choice has become so small. Looking back, Louis France in the fourteenth period, and the restoration period In Great Britain, men used to love makeup that much, Their clothes are so gorgeous and they look so good elegant. So we just trace the roots in history.  The media will use it when evaluating "placebo" Keep your eyes on such things as "male and female", "gorgeous", ) If you have to symbolize, how can you give yourself Has it been defined and classified?  A modern rock band. A 21 The modern rock band of the century. Let me show you and all Some magazine readers confirmed that "placebo" is not Hermaphrodite, the "placebo" members are all men, Everyone is.

In addition to work, the three of you often Play together? The three of us spend time together Family and love have more time. So when we After we got home, we gave all the time Family material lover, ha ha. Can you chat online? No, it never happened. I know net Some people on the network will call themselves Brian Mok, Husband ,,’’No~1 million That would definitely not be me. If you are online I met someone like that and I visited Brian Mo But my blog or Myspace, I read my Diary, you have to believe that it is definitely a lie. I Will not publish their life information on the Internet, I am a privacy-conscious person. What's the story of the performance in China this time ? What are your expectations for the Chinese record market What? Just like going to Thailand and Korea, through hosting Party’s invitation, we’ll come and we know people We like our music, so we can play for them We are also very happy to play. As for the record market, I Really have no idea. I just look forward to acting I hope to bring an outstanding performance. Please describe you in one word or sentence " 3 people. Just one sentence. Have you seen "Starship Fans Is this TV show "Star Trek"? Oh, your country may not broadcast it. Stephen It's "Mr. Spock" (Mr. Spock) It’s ‘Dr. McCoy’ and I’m "K Captain Kirk" (Captain Kirk)

[xcertaindarkthingsx]

meet seraphine kharis!

hey y’all!!! so i finally got my oc commisioned and i wanted to share her with you guys ♥️ she’s my pride and joy and in a fic i’ve been writing for awhile and i plan to post soon. if you’d like to be tagged pls let me know!

but for now, here she is!! and a bunch of things about her below the pic. i plan on posting some of her concept boards soon to go more in depth (her tattoos/markings, her homeworld since i made that up too) but i’d love to hear any questions/comments you guys have 😊 hope y’all like her and i’d love to hear about your ocs too!

art credit goes to @/birdy.sketches on insta (please check her out, she’s amazing)

name: seraphine kharis

born: 51 bby (19 in tpm, 29 in aotc, and 32 in rots)

key era: prequels/the clone wars

species: humanoid

homeworld: eridani – aquilae system

hair: deep purple, usually wears it half up/half down with a silver chain braided in

eyes: dark brown with flecks of gold

markings/tattoos: has a TON of marking and tattoos all over, some she was born with and others were tattooed on her throughout the years (common in the culture she grew up in, they have a lot of meaning)

height: 5’5”

outfit: dark grayish with an added accent of maroon sometimes

master: plo koon

rank: jedi knight (refused to take a padwan, so she never became a master)

force abilities: she’s strong in the force, after years of intense training and practice.  intense training was necessary, as she’s able to greatly sense other’s emotions and intentions and it can become overwhelming for her.  her abilities are strongly tied to her emotions and it was clear from a young age she could have gone either way, so she had multiple strong teachers. being so in tune with her emotions as well as others leaves her vulnerable to the dark side, but she constantly keeps her guard up.  occasionally has visions and has a touch of psychometry skills (but nowhere near as intense as quinlan’s).  known for studying and being able to use battle meditation (like bastila shan) during her time as a general.

fighting style: vapaad.  mace was reluctant to undertake another vapaad student but when he saw how serious/disciplined she was about controlling her dark tendencies, he obliged. fights in ataru when she doesn’t want to go all out, and enjoys fighting jar’kai when the situation arises    

saber: her first saber was blue, but she lost it during a particularly rough mission (that resulted in her getting knighted early).  she finds her new kyber crystal just before they leave the planet.  after her knighting she constructs her new saber, and it’s a purple with an elegant hilt. it was significant to her, as it established her tendency to use both sides of the force.    

personality:  she’s a quiet storm; shy when you first meet her and others are sometimes put off because of her serious demeanor at first, but that quickly melts away as she gets comfortable with you.  struggles with insecurities.  emotional and feels things very intensely; she struggles to keep it in check and often resorting to just burying her feelings.  attachment is her biggest weakness because she loves those who are close to her very fiercely, but believes it’s not horrible to have such feelings and that she knows where to draw the line.  acts like a big goof ball with the people she’s close to  

family: her parents were extremely neglectful towards her even as a child, so she was taken in by another family after becoming close with their daughter, lexa.  lexa and her were not blood-related, but they were like sisters.  she was discovered and taken to the temple at 4 years old.  

relationships:  shares a force bond with obi-wan kenobi, the two have been extremely close since they were younglings, but the bond developed after the rough (near-death) mission mentioned earlier.  she has strong romantic feelings towards him, ones she’s had to hide for forever.  loves anakin like a little brother and ahsoka like a little sister.  was extremely close to qui-gon before he passed because he was partially responsible for bringing her to the temple and because he often validated the different views she had of the council/order when growing up.  close with plo koon as well since he was the other responsible for bringing her to the temple (they found her together) and because he trained her how to properly utilize/control her abilities, even if it meant dabbling in the dark side (which he had a history of).  looked at them like father figures and the two guided her into the woman she was today. even though she trained under mace as well, she has a cordial, more professional relationship with him. becomes best friends with padme.  still has a close relationship with her sister lexa because plo often let her visit her homeworld.  close friends with aayla, quinlan, bant, nejaa, and kit.  her and quinlan often got together for ah, “stress relief”

command: shares command of the 104th battalion with plo koon, and later co-leads clone force 99 on the side with commander cody. loves every single one of her troopers, sees them all as close friends and was particularly close with rex, cody, wolffe, hunter, and blackout (oc).  

[bi-naesala]

Hunt for the Jedi

After becoming the Emperor, Obi-Wan sends his most trusted men on a hunt across the galaxy. The prey? The surviving Jedi.

((Part of the Sith Obi-Wan AU))

Can also be read on AO3

(TW : VIOLENCE, BLOOD, DECAPITATION)

Despite the attack at the Temple being a success, there are some Jedi who managed to escape with their lives still intact. This is nothing the new appointed Emperor hadn’t predicted already, however, which is why as soon as he rises to power, he creates a special force to take care of this deal: the Inquisitorium, made up of force sensitive user who share the anti-Jedi sentiment. Most of them are young, the same young people who have been disappointed by the state of the Jedi Order - Maul is pretty sure he saw Oiffee around - and others who have been charmed by Obi-Wan’s ways. This must be Kenobi’s greatest strength: the ability to draw people to his side without the use of coercion or torture.

Even Ventress has joined their ranks, which shook Maul a great deal when he first found out.

 “Patience,” Obi-Wan tells him when he comes to him hateful and spiteful, demanding revenge for what she did to Savage. “You already got your revenge against Sidious. You’ll get this in good time too.”

Maul growls at him, something he hasn’t done for a very long time.

“I don’t want to wait! She needs to die!”

“And she will,” Obi-Wan reassures him, resting his hands on Maul’s shoulders, “But at the moment we need all the allies we can get. Once she’s no longer useful, we’ll make an example out of her.”

Oh, so that’s Obi-Wan’s plan. Maul should’ve known: he never leaves anything to chance; he always has a plan for every single one of them. Even though he still isn’t happy with this, he knows better than not to trust that Kenobi will maintain his word - he did it already.

“Fine, but I sure hope you weren’t planning to make us work together,” he threatens. “If I see her around, I won’t care about waiting.”

“Of course,” Obi-Wan replies, not worried at all by what he just said. “Besides, I’ve already devised a plan to deal with the remaining Jedi.”

That’s good, Maul thinks: finally a way to put his skills to use, something he got to do only recently, once he got out of hiding. He’s enjoyed it of course, but he also needs more.

Still, nothing would’ve prepared him for Obi-Wan’s next words.

“You’re going to work with Cody.”

 This is unexpected, though Maul supposes it actually isn’t that much: Kenobi excluded, since he’s required to be the Emperor so he can’t busy himself directly with these matters, they’re the two most qualified people for the job. It’s weird that Skywalker - or Vader as he calls himself now - hasn’t been mentioned, probably because of Amidala’s pregnancy - aren’t the twins due soon?

Still… Cody, eh?

The two of them still haven’t had the chance to work together, since Maul was supposed to still be hiding, but now they have to, Maul as the appointed Grand Inquisitor and Cody as head of the Army - of course Kenobi was going to promote him.

As of now, their only interaction has been the night of “celebration” spent with Obi-Wan after the official fall of the Republic, and it’s safe to say that they didn’t really pay that much attention to each other, more focused on their mutual partner.

Oh well, this is surely going to be interesting.

  That sentiment of curiosity leaves Maul immediately as soon as he and Cody actually get to work: they’ve already had their bickering as they’ve tracked down the remaining Jedi or any kind of deserter, yet despite this it’s been mostly… well, not fun because Maul would rather die than to admit anything positive about his… How is he even supposed to call him? Co-worker? Lover of his lover? Ugh, it’s so confusing.

Anyway, even though he wouldn’t say that it’s fun it’s definitely… something adjacent to it.

He certainly appreciates Cody’s tactical mind, although he would also like to say that he has had his own genial moments as well. He can’t wait to get his hands dirty and, unexpectedly, he feels the same coming from Cody; after coming back from what Maul supposes was his last confrontation with one of his “brothers” - he doesn’t know the details since Cody told Kenobi, not him, about this - he seems eager to get some work done. Is this his own personal way to forget that he once shared a bond with the people they’re hunting down? Maybe; Maul doesn’t care. It’s not his business.

 Still, even to this day, Maul is still unimpressed with him. He still doesn’t understand why Obi-Wan would be interested in someone like him. The time they’ve spent planning and preparing for their attacks certainly hasn’t helped but that might be more due to the fact that Cody doesn’t fear him, thus when discussing tactics isn’t afraid to call Maul out on his bullshit, something that he, of course, doesn’t like.

If he’s so willing to interrupt him each time, then he should go hunting Jedi down on his own, see what he cares.

Despite wanting so bad to tell him off, Maul holds his tongue - many times. You could say that he’s doing it for Kenobi; he knows that there must be a purpose behind him deciding that they should work together, and he’s sure that he’d be happy if they try to get along, no matter how hard it may be.

 Everything changes, however, when he sees Cody fight.

  If there’s a thing about the Jedi that Maul has to give to them, is that they’re good at hiding, but even that isn’t enough. As if they could ever escape from their destiny.

“I hope you’re ready,” Maul tells Cody. They’re both standing in the ship’s control room, working on their strategy one last time before commencing their hunt. “I won’t be slowed down, so you’ll better keep up or you’ll be left alone.”

Cody narrows his eyes at those words, but his expression soon turns challenging.

“If you have enough time to make these statements, maybe you’ll be the one left behind after all,” he retorts, making Maul greet his teeth. Who does he think he is?! He is nothing. He should bow down to him…

Huh, they’re approaching their target.

“I suggest you prepare for landing, sir,” Cody says then, clearly mocking him. Maul shoots him a dirty glare but refuses to take the bait.

He’ll surely show him on the battlefield who is superior.

  This should enrage Maul, make him see completely red, and yet… it doesn’t, despite the fact that he’s pretty much eating his own words.

He just really wasn’t expecting to assist to such a way of fighting on Cody’s part: he would’ve expected any clone to prefer fighting with their trusted blasters - useless weapons, truly - but not Cody; where he truly shines is in hand-to-hand combat.

To Maul’s surprise, he manages to go toe to toe even against Jedi and come out victorious. What impresses Maul the most - besides the force with which he body slams people, or how hard he kicks - is that he’d often manage to snatch the lightsabers out of the Jedi’s hands, only to use them against their own owners.

Now Maul is starting to see what Obi-Wan sees in him.

 There’s a fire inside him, a fire that’s so well hidden under a proper façade that Maul has noticed it only now, but it’s there, and now Cody has a chance to let it all out.

Maybe Obi-Wan was right when he said that, under certain aspects, they’re similar.

It certainly contributes on making Maul curious about Cody. Did they teach him how to fight like this on Kamino? Did he have to attend to some secret special class that his brothers weren’t privy of? Or does he have to thank Kenobi for these displays?

These questions don’t even boil down all the things he now wants to know about him. Maybe when this is over he’ll ask him for a sparring match, curious to test his skills against his, though he’d surely prevail. Still, he wouldn’t mind seeing for it himself.

 Things have… changed, between he and Cody: what has started as a very rocky partnership has become something different, even though it’s hard to say where they exactly stand towards each other. They clearly respect each other more, as Cody hasn’t been the only one making a show of his skills.

It makes hunting down Jedi together more bearable.

Maul has been looking towards this for a long time: finally, he can hunt down and destroy the Jedi, just like he’s been raised to do. Of course he was going to do it in the most brutal way possible.

He wonders if Cody can sense the fury in the way he twirls his staff, if he can sense the rage he feels whenever his eyes lay on a Jedi, if he can sense the savage satisfaction when he ends their life.

 Look at him, wondering if Cody pays attention to him like a fool. And yet, he can’t stop doing it.

 He could easily slip in his mind and gather all the info he needs on the subject… except that for some reason, he doesn’t dare.

In order to justify this, he keeps telling himself that it’s just because Cody must be trained in sensing if someone’s inside his mind and he’d get suspicious if he found Maul rummaging through his thoughts. The truth, however, is that… He doesn’t even know it. He supposes that he respects him too much to do it. That’s it. Nothing more.

Who is he kidding? Of course there is more, and Maul can’t help but to curse himself for having fallen for this obvious bait.

 Was this Kenobi’s plan all along? Maul doesn’t doubt it not even for a moment: everything’s possible when it comes to that impossible man, he’s learned.

He supposes he’ll just need to wait and see how things move along, but one thing is sure: sooner or later, he’ll make his move.

  Maul surprises himself with how patient he’s being about all this. Even with all the Jedi they have caught and killed, he still hasn’t given in the euphoria, focused on doing a good job until the end; he won’t rest until he’s found all the Jedi.

His self-control is about to encounter its greatest challenge, however. We shall see if he’ll manage to resist this time…

 If there’s a thing that is certain, is that this Jedi hunt still hasn’t sated his thirst. They have met many adversaries, but most of them were either escaped younglings and padawans, or old Jedi, nothing that would really test Maul’s skills.

This, however, might change soon, because they have received intel about another Jedi survivor, but this one isn’t like the others: Jaro Tapal, tactical genius and a force to be reckoned with in combat. When the order to kill the Jedi had been issued he had managed to escape; they had gotten only his padawan, who is now undergoing some… constructive therapy. He’ll join their ranks soon, though the timing could’ve been better: imagine if they had send him to bring Tapal down.

Oh well, at least this gives Maul a chance. He can’t wait to see the life abandon his eyes.

 It certainly speaks a lot about how things have changed between him and Cody that, as they’re preparing for landing, they’re not snarking at each other like they used to do.

The atmosphere is still quite tense, but for a different reason than the usual. Is it worry? No, it can’t be. Maul is confident in his and Cody’s abilities. Tapal might be a mighty Jedi, but he must also be weakened by the months spent on the run.

Underestimating the enemy, however, is a grave mistake, something that neither Maul nor Cody wish to make; nothing is more dangerous than a cornered animal. They’ll have to be careful.

 Still, he hates this silence. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but it’s making him miss the old times, when they’d bicker and bicker until it was time to get things done.

Eventually he can’t take it anymore, and he snaps at Cody.

“Say something, damn it!”

Cody tenses, immediately turning to look at him with narrowed eyes.

“What am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know! Something!”

“I am focusing on the upcoming battle,” Cody immediately replies, sharp tone, “You should do the same, if you don’t want to get your shebs kicked.”

Maul has no idea what “shebs” means, but he’s sure it mustn’t be anything nice. He growls, stomping towards Cody until they’re face to face - metaphorically, since Cody is unfortunately much taller than Maul, but he won’t let himself get intimidated by this minuscule detail. Of the two, he’s the one with true power after all.

“Watch your tongue,” he threatens immediately.

The tension is high, very high. They both feel like if they don’t do something immediately, things are going to escalate; in which way it will happen, however, they have no idea.

 All it takes is for the control panel to signal that they’ve reached their destination for the spell to break.

Maul has no idea where that came from; thinking about it now, it almost seems like it wasn’t actually him speaking, but someone else who has his same features.

Is it worry what caused this? Is he really worried? He doesn’t know, which only serves to irritate him further. He never liked to deal with these things.

He can at least harvest this rage, keep it inside to unleash it on Jaro Tapal. With his fury by his side, he can prevail.

 … There’s something else, however, isn’t it? No matter how much Maul can’t deny its existence and ignore it altogether, there’s a feeling that wasn’t there before, something that grew the more time he spent with Cody: he won’t let the Jedi lay not even a hand on him.

This is something he used to feel only for Kenobi, this sort of twisted sentiment, a desire for Cody to become his, because that’s all this is about to Maul: belonging, having. He wants Cody like he has Obi-Wan, and he wants him badly.

 He grunts, shaking his head.

Not now. He needs to focus on the upcoming battle, he needs to focus on the Jedi.

If they manage to bring the famed Jaro Tapal down, it will be a heavy hit for the few remaining Jedi. Their moral would be destroyed, their hope tarnished. They might even get new people to join their ranks if they finally understand how much powerful the Dark Side is: if not even Tapal can survive against it, who can?

 His focus gets shattered once again when his arm gets grabbed by Cody. Maul’s first instinct is to put his lightsaber at his throat, roaring at him to never touch him again, but he holds back for the sole reason that he doesn’t mind it as much as he thought; his hold is strong, grounding. It makes Maul understand why Obi-Wan might like having his hands on him all the time.

“Hey.”

“What?” Maul replies, trying to keep his tone even despite the fury of emotions that is boiling inside him.

For a moment, he senses hesitation in Cody; this must be the first this happens: he’s usually so sure of himself - and arrogant, Maul would add, but maybe that’s just because he doesn’t bow down to him like everyone else does - that it feels weird, seeing him without knowing what to say.

“What?” he repeats, then. He could easily snatch his arm away from Cody’s grasp, but he still doesn’t.

“Just…” Cody begins, now looking more determined, that kind of determination that one has after they have taken an important decision, though Maul isn’t privy to what this decision is exactly, “… Be safe.”

For a moment, Maul doesn’t know what to think: did Cody, General Cody head of the New Army of the Empire, just tell him, Grand Inquisitor Darth Maul, to be safe?

 He doesn’t know… Wait.

His heart… It’s beating so fast.

It feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest, bleeding and pulsating.

Maul doesn’t know why it’s behaving like this, but he knows that he doesn’t like it. It makes him feel weak and vulnerable, open, exposed.

He hates it.

 He shakes himself away like he’s been burned, eyeing Cody with fury.

“I don’t need these useless words,” he hisses, seething in rage. How dares he to make him feel like this?

Nothing transpires from Cody’s face at those words, which only succeeds in irritating him further; why can’t he say something, anything?!

He gets up with the intention of leaving the cockpit to find a quiet place where he can meditate, foster his anger even more. And yet, as he’s about to exit, he stops, gritting his teeth; this doesn’t feel right, this doesn’t feel right at all!

A sigh leaves his mouth, and with it, part of the rage he felt leaves his body as well. This is stupid, so very stupid, and yet Maul can’t help but to turn his head towards Cody, observing him; to his surprise, he’s giving his back to him, eyes fixed on the ship’s controls. He appears so distant now, despite the fact that they’re just a few steps away.

It feels that all the progress they’ve made all this time has vanished in thin air, and despite telling himself that it doesn’t matter, Maul can’t stand for it, thus, with an immense effort on his part, he brings himself to speak again.

“You too… Be safe.”

 He leaves before Cody has to occasion to say anything, missing the sudden way he turns around, watching Maul go with a surprised - and hopeful - gaze.

  As the make their way towards where they know Tapal is constructing a base - admitting that we can call an amass of rocks in a backwater Outer Rim planet a base - they begin to suspect that the intel they got might be faulty: there’s no sign of sentient activity, besides, who would make camp here, at the end of the road, against the mountains, with the only way to escape being the same you have to walk to get there? It seems incredibly stupid, and certainly not something a “tactical genius” like Tapal would do.

It’s only after the entire squad - yes, they didn’t go alone, but brought some troopers with them, just in case - have completely entered the inlet, that they realize that this is obviously a trap, and they’ve fallen right into it.

 They are immediately proven right when a voice comes from behind them.

“Empire scum!”

They all turn around immediately, and behind them, a tall, imposing lasat male stands. He must be Tapal. How foolish of him to show himself to them like this; trap or not, he should’ve stayed hidden.

Maul and Cody immediately walk through the front. Despite Cody wearing his bucket - blacks suits him way better than his old colors - Maul can feel his trepidation even without looking at his face. He feels the same.

He’s about to address Tapal - to challenge the fool - when the Jedi speaks again:

“We only want information. I’ll grant you your life if you surrender and help us.”

“Still a Jedi through and through,” Maul hisses, hate echoing at every word. Who does he think he’s going to please acting like that? It’s not going to help him… Wait. Did he say “us”?

As if to confirm Maul’s suspicions, soon Tapal is joined by two Jedi… no, they look like padawans. They aren’t the only ones that show up; he doesn’t even need to turn around to see them: he feels them in the Force already. But who does he feel? All the other Jedi that have them surrounded, emerging from the mountain side.

They have really trapped them.

 How were they supposed to know that Tapal had managed to find not only just one survivor, but an entire group of them, when the intelligence they have gathered has shown nothing of this?

In the end it’s their fault. They did what they weren’t supposed to do: underestimate the enemy. They should’ve known that Tapal would’ve tried to pull something, which apparently translates into creating a small rebellious force. Smart on his part, but it’s not going to work, not with the small number of people he’s managed to amass.

Despite this, however, they do outnumber Maul, Cody and the small squad of troopers they’re leading, this already without taking in account that they’ve cut any possible escape route, meaning that even if they’d want to retreat, they’d still have to carve a path. Sure, they could escalate the mountain wall, but that would be suicide.

 A crooked smile appears on Maul’s lips: finally, finally, an occasion to prove his power.

He exchanges a gaze with Cody, gaze feverish, and he knows that the other feels the same sort of trepidation he’s feeling.

“Tapal is mine,” he says then, “You can take out the others.”

Cody nods, and then he’s immediately barking orders, loading his blaster and taking his first shots.

“Charge!”

 It all happens in a flurry. Maul barely feels what’s going on around him, brain entirely focused on Tapal. He’s had the courage to ambush then, surrounding them in what the fools think will be their resting place; oh, he understands nothing then.

He takes a running jump, reaching Tapal’s position. He has to give to him: he’s not hiding behind the people he’s riled up against them, instead he’s taking part directly into the action. Still, a courageous fool remains a fool.

Their sabers clash with a loud noise.

“You still face me head on, I applaud your courage,” Tapal says, voice deep but tone neutral. It makes Maul’s blood boil in his veins with his fake calm. As if Maul can’t sense his exhaustion, his fear.

“Save your nice words, Jedi,” he hisses. “No matter what tricks you use, the power of the Dark Side is too strong for you!”

“You say so, and yet I’m the one who trapped you!” If Maul been slower, he wouldn’t have dodged the kick that Tapal sends his way in time, but he manages to do it, jumping and lending a few feet away.

He lets out a scream of pure rage. The time for words it over.

We shall see who’ll come out of it victorious.

 He puts his all into his fight, exchanging blows with Tapal. He’s obviously putting up more of a challenge than any other Jedi did, and Maul loves it; no matter how hard he gets kicked, the manic smile on his face doesn’t falter at all.

This is what he’s trained for, the reason of all his pain and anguish. It’s time to show everyone - and himself, though he refuses to admit he even needs this in the first place - that it hasn’t been in vain.

If only he’d manage to get even a small opening…

 He has no idea about what is happening around them, having singled in Tapal entirely. The fact that he doesn’t need to pay attention is a testament to how well trained his squad is, or else he bets some young padawans - someone who wouldn’t know how sacred duels are - would’ve tried already to barge in to change the fight to the Jedi’s benefit.

Still, he doesn’t have to wait for long before feeling the pain and death around him. It’s a marvelous sensation that reinvigorates him, gives him strength.

A fleeting thought passes through his mind: it’s a shame that he doesn’t get to see Cody in action this time, but he can’t afford to get distracted, or else he’d be the one giving Tapal an opening, which would be shameful on his part. As soon as this thought arrives, he immediately pushes it down, this isn’t the time for that!

What he didn’t expect was for Tapal to catch it as well. Has he been projecting this hard?

“Even you are able to feel love,” he breathes out, clashing his staff against Maul’s. It takes him all his strength to parry it, with the result that they’re now locked into a contest of might. Given their tired state - how long has the fight been going on? - it’s obvious that this will be their final move: the one who manages to knock the other out of balance will win.

“Shut up!” Maul exclaims, gritting his teeth. How dares he spout this kind of nonsense? What does he know about him? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Why would he even presume to know him, his feelings? He’s just a Jedi fool!

“I can feel it in you,” Tapal insists. “You are capable of loving, despite your efforts not to.”

He’s pushing, but Maul keeps resisting. Endure the pain, endure the fatigue, endure everything; he’s been living like this since he has memory of it, he won’t stop doing it now, not when he’s so close to victory. He can’t afford to lose, not when it would disappoint Obi-Wan, not when it would disappoint Cody, not when it would disappoint… himself.

“I said shut up!”

He pushes back this time, making Tapal grunts.

“Even if you deny it, the evidence is there. You aren’t a good Sith…”

 He…

Did he…

He said…

 There’s nothing human in the way Maul screams, putting all his rage and anguish and fear and spite in it.

He is a good Sith! He’s defeated countless Jedi by now, he’d killed his own Master! Everybody fears him! Does this sound like a bad Sith?!

“And what do you know?” he hisses, determined to respond in kind. “Didn’t you lose your padawan? That’s right, he’s with us now. Maybe you’ll see him soon in the afterlife…”

At those words, Tapal hesitates; hearing news of his padawan must have shaken him. Such weakness.

Deciding to take a step from his old book and taking advantage of this moment of imbalance on Tapal’s part, Maul pushes again, then with a fast movement he takes the metal edge of his staff and slams it against Tapal’s head, making him waver a few steps back. Heh, they all fall for it.

Using that moment of weakness, Maul moves immediately, running Tapal’s torso with his staff, grinning at how he grunts, realization of his loss evident in his eyes.

He tries to keep himself up with all his might, but eventually he falls to his knees, right in front of Maul. Oh, the power rush feels so good, and Maul can’t stop smiling for it, admiring his handiwork; Tapal’s having difficulties breathing. He looks like he’s trying to say something, but he can’t.

Well, Maul decides to help him, in order to honor their duel: it’s with the utmost satisfaction that he raises his staff again, and with a decisive move, he beheads Tapal, whose head begins to roll in the dirt, stopping not too far from the body, which has now fallen on the ground completely.

  A quiet chuckle erupts from Maul’s lips, but soon it turns into something more, something louder.

He did it, he truly did it. Most importantly, he did it alone: sure, he wasn’t actually alone, but he took on Tapal single-handedly and he’s defeated him. Nobody else was here to help him in the duel, not even Kenobi.

This is his victory and only his.

 It’s only now, noticing the silence surrounding him, that he finally allows himself to look around.

All the other Jedi are dead, along with great part of the troopers, but this isn’t what matters: standing tall, surrounded by dead bodies, there’s him, Cody.

At some point during the fight, he must’ve lost his bucket, because not only he’s not wearing it now, but Maul doesn’t even see it in his immediate vicinity. He can’t help but to be happy about it: the black armor fits Cody like a glove, but Maul wouldn’t say he’s fond of the bucket at all; he’d rather look at his face than that emotionless thing.

He’s still wielding the beskar staff Kenobi has gifted him as a prize for Mandalore’s successful invasion. Maul remembers being skeptic and perplexed when it happened, not understanding of what use such a refined weapon could have for a clone, but now he knows, he knows well. It’s the most appropriate weapon for someone like Cody, a fitting instrument of death. He’s holding it tightly, posture still rigid, as if he’s expecting other Jedi to show up, but Maul can feel the Force, he knows that they’ve eliminated everyone.

It’s then that he notices that he’s covered in blood; well, it isn’t something that unheard of, when it comes to Cody, since the beskar staff is a blunt weapon unlike lightsabers, but there something about him being covered in blood now of all times, looking beautiful in his carnage, that makes Maul feel dizzy.

 He wants. He wants to taste him so bad.

 He approaches him with long strides. Cody doesn’t even notice him, busy as he is catching his breath after the long fight. Maul doesn’t care.

The force he uses to grab his face and crash their lips together might be exaggerated, but Cody replies in kind, pushing back against Maul immediately; he’s not even the least bit surprised, which does irritate Maul a bit: he hoped he could’ve taken him by surprise, but like this it seems more like he’s seen it coming already. Thinking about it, he’s not that wrong. Maybe it was just a matter of time…

It hardly matters now, not when Maul can taste blood on Cody’s lips, unsure if it’s their enemies, Cody’s or his, with the aggressive way they keep kissing, all tongue and teeth, exactly how Maul likes it.

There’s a loud clang, informing him of the fact that Cody has dropped his staff, using his now free arms to circle Maul’s waist, pulling him closer. Being enveloped in his arms feels good, better than Maul thought it would ever fill; normally he isn’t fond of such things, Obi-Wan knows it well: it makes him feel soft, which in turn makes him feel weak, and he doesn’t like feeling weak. With Cody it’s different: there is the fact that he’s taller, that’s still annoying, but for once the feeling that spreads inside Maul isn’t one of rage. It’s like they were meant to be like this. He doesn’t know why he feels like this, but it’s also true that at the moment he’s not really in the mood for some self-reflection - when is he ever?

He cups Cody’s face in his hands, keeping him close in the kiss. He should’ve taken his gloves off, because then he would’ve been able to feel Cody better. How would the bite scar or his cheek feel against his bare fingers? Maul can’t help but to wonder. If he remembers correctly, one of Cody’s brothers - why he insists on calling them that is beyond him - gave it to him, before Cody himself had to kill him. What would Maul make him feel if he touches it? Would he remember? Would he suffer? Would he be angry? So many possibilities, and yet…

 They pull away at the same time, eyes blown wide at the realization of what they’ve just done. There’s silence around them, which is good, because if even one trooper tried to utter a word about this, they’d all be dead.

“We still have to report back,” Cody states, clearing his throat. He bends down to take the beskar staff, and Maul isn’t ashamed at all in the way he checks him out as he does so - what? They’ve kissed already, this shouldn’t be weird.

He extends a hand, reaching into the Force, and in a moment Cody’s bucket, lost in the rabble, shoots up towards him. Maul grabs it and hands it to Cody, but not before leaning closer, licking a vertical stripe along Cody’s lips.

“This isn’t over,” he says, voice sounding more like a threat than anything else, but it still brings as smile to Cody’s face. He nods, before putting his bucket back on. Shame.

 With that, the two walk back towards the ship, trusting the rest of the crew with the cleanup process. Now the have to report back to Kenobi, to announce their victory, then… Then who knows.

The trepidation Maul is feeling right now is unlike any other sentiment he’s ever felt. He can’t wait to see how things will evolve from now on.

Oh, the face Obi-Wan will make when they come back to him… It’s going to be so good.

[ironhoshi]

Hi there, could I please offer the suggestion of 8, 11 or 27 from the fluff prompt list 😊 thank you 😊

You may! I only did two of them because the third was requested in a different ask! I have found the perfect gif and it makes me laugh!!!

These prompts can be found right here. They are still very much open.

8. “okay, where are all my jumpers?”

The weather was getting colder and he wasn't ashamed to admit he enjoyed yanking on an oversized jumper to stay warm. A Jedi could keep themselves warm enough, but there was something just comforting about drowning in the plush article of clothing. Obi-Wan, however, was finding that every single one seemed to be missing from his drawers. He frowned as he yanked open one last draw and was simply greeted with the sight of a folded up tabard. Well, this certainly wasn't good. He rested a hand on his hip as he stared at the sheer lack of jumpers. The apartment was warm enough, he supposed, but that was beside the point. He pulled the sleeves down on the shirt he was wearing before slamming the drawer shut. 

"Jango," he called out and felt amusement across their bond. Something was afoot. He followed the emotion until he found his soulmate lounging on the couch. "Okay, where are all my jumpers?"

"Hello to you too," Jango teased while tipping his head back to glance up at him. The eyes twinkled with mirth and Obi-Wan narrowed his in his response. 

"Hello there-"

Laughter erupted from the other side of the couch causing him to blink. Obi-Wan leaned over the back of the couch, knocking aside Jango's attempt at grabbing him, and stared. His jumpers were moving about on their own. One was rolling on the floor, tiny sounds of delight escaping it, and the others were crashing into each other blindly. He winced in sympathy, but as long as they were giggling he wasn't about to intervene. 

"Ah, perhaps I should have asked where my children are," he mused with affection. Tiny heads struggled to pop out of the neck holes and only Boba failed. He had to push the jumper back until he wore it like a shroud. Rex and Cody both managed, hair sticking at odd angles. 

"Buir!" 

"Buir!" 

"BA!" 

Obi-Wan flashed them a smile before finally letting Jango yank him over the back of the couch and into his arms. He barely had time to yell as his jumpers- er children- pounced to join them on the couch.

He could survive without a jumper today.

☆☆☆☆

27. “why the hell is there glitter everywhere?”

The abhorrent stuff coated every surface, glinting viciously. He could only stand there amongst the destruction and silently bemoan his life. How? Why? What the fuck had he done to deserve this? 

Obi-Wan reached up and covered his mouth with a hand, trying to hold back the stream of swear words that wanted to escape. The table was sparkling, the coffeemaker somehow had floating specks in the water tank, and he was certain the infection would spill out of the fridge at this point. 

"Why-" He couldn't even get the full sentence out before a few swear words slipped through.

"Obes," Anakin said quickly. "There was a minor mishap while working on my science fair project!"

"Yeah, none of us saw this coming," Cody picked up the thread of explaining. 

"Completely blindsided us all," Rex chimed in.

"I walked in and it was already like this," Feemor contributed unhelpfully.

Obi-Wan cast a look toward Padmé and she just gave him an apologetic smile. "I see," he settled on crossing his arms over his chest as he fixed them all with a look. "And where is Quin?" The conspiratorial look they all shared did nothing to ease his dread. The fates, it seemed, took pity and his extremely sparkly boyfriend walked back into the room with a hand vacuum. The man paused when he realized Obi-Wan was there.

"Hey, you got back early-"

"Why the Hell is there glitter everywhere, Quinlan?" Obi-Wan tapped a foot and regretted it as puffs of glitter attacked the air. The shit got everywhere and multiplied. They were going to be dealing with the herpes of the craft world for weeks now. He was afraid to even look at the scones he had brought in that morning. Definitely ruined. 

"We may have loaded the glitter bomb in before making sure the spring was tightened properly," Anakin rushed to explain while Quin nodded along. 

"And...why? I thought you all were going to wait until I got home-"

"...it's Quinlan's fault," Cody and Rex blurted out at the same time. Obi-Wan stood amongst his horribly glittery kitchen and just watched the chaos unfold. They were yelling at each other, trying to pass blame, and all he could think about was the fact if he did kill them all then the bodies would be stupid easy to find. Glitter, naturally, would give the murder away. 

Damn.

[fourletterworld]

Letting Go - Was a Big Brother

He didn't know how to stop, but we had a plan. I held onto the handlebars alongside him and guided him before letting go. He went forward, steering on his own, pedaling and balancing. He'd taken flight, and I was watching something I'd affected. He was laughing. He wanted to look at me but he couldn't take his eyes away.

"Dust! Look!" he called out. I laughed and clapped at him.

I watched as he ran his bike into a large pile of soft dirt. His wheel sunk in and the bike gently tilted on its side. He stood away from his bike and looked directly at me. His smile was as unwilfully brilliant as the sun and my heart bloomed. I didn't know it at the time but the brightness pierced a hole in my young consciousness and grafted onto my memory like silver nitrate. Feeling it now, as a man, I sense the texture of it all the same beneath my fingers. I was a growing boy raising a growing boy. Responsibility and joy had never known each other so well: the way a sober man falls asleep with a pure heart.

And man, sometimes I think, if only I could do it over and have my little baby brother back. If only I could have had some time to become a man so I could have truly guided him. I could have focused if I didn’t have the obstacles of my own adolescent mind hedonistically drawing the curtains over what was happening to that little kid.  

I think if I had a little boy now, that I was to take care of, a powerful resoluteness would overwhelmingly usurp any other color in my life. My son would think I was a warm heart born from stone. I would be the definition of dedication and love. He'd never know a single wild story of my life, and my circular conflict would straighten itself in opposition to my son's unbeaten path. I'd show him how to tackle his obstacles head on, with honesty and thought. I'd teach him how intellect isn't soft, and that it can challenge you toward self-destruction. I would teach him, that the depression he inevitably inherits from me, isn't a black hole to get lost in but a darkness in which to contrast the worlds vast beauty.  I would demonstrate what it is to be a gentleman so that the world won't misguide him, and I would hug him after I lecture him on a hard truth. I would teach him how to throw a punch, and elaborate on the ugliness of hatred. I would show, by example, tolerance. To live within one's own principals, and to illuminate in his mind the intuitive fine lines that sanctions them. I'd teach him that others may cross these boundaries with steam in their eyes, and to always guide them away with equal force. I'd also teach him that some may walk through his borders innocently, and others with intentional love, and that being disarmed by a woman is the most beautiful thing in the world. That her placing her hand on your most painful burn might not hurt, and that in time her touch might cool it into the past. Though if it doesn’t, the touch can make you forget for a moment, and that something new can grow in that tranquil silence.  And I'll also temper myself, and my fearful control, and trust in that organic thing we call unconditional love to unfold and open the rest of his soul toward the sun. I wouldn't be his friend, but his protector, mentor, model, and still, as I was with Cody, an endless summer of love. A pair of strong arms to lift him from the ground or to hold him until I've drawn as much of his hurt into my astonishingly endless threshold, as long as I can, until he will not let me anymore because he has become his own man.

but I think about Cody, and how I don't want to have a little boy in his honor. What a disgrace that could be, like attributing the old name to the new family pet.

No, his story is over, and I still have this muscle memory that springs alive at night to catch him.

Maybe that's all it is. I just have potholes throughout this road that has ran through my whole life, and I'm looking to fill them. I'm holding onto the handlebars and steering him away from falling in even though the little boy is no longer on the seat.

I'd walked into that same paternal quicksand again, but suddenly amidst this dream I see red brake lights in the snowy night.

"Jesus Christ" the electric jolt in my chest screams. I'm suddenly driving a car.

I jerk into the reality of it like I'm falling out of bed. I hold the wheel and cut someone off to avoid a collision and I'm thankful for not slipping on the ice. The windshield is filled with blinding snow, and the falling sheets pass by like light years of stars. It must have lulled me into this daydream. Everything around me is beautiful, but I feel so ugly inside I might as well be taking the scenery in through a motel television.

My adrenaline is going and I use it as an excuse to pull over, but really, I just want to do something unordinary. Chaos seems to work like that. You want to surround yourself with the unusual so you don't feel so strange. It's like giving your weirdness company.

There was a long period of time during the last year I had kept myself company with alcohol in my studio/shed after Bridgette went to sleep. I'd hold my guitar in between long pauses of not playing a single chord with my eyes open and my head full. I hadn't even cared about the gentle ride into drunkenness that beer provides, so I'd started pouring myself whiskey into Tupperware filled with ice so that I could quickly evaporate into some synthetic cloud of euphoria. I grew accustomed to the taste of straight whiskey, but who the fuck would drink it if it had no alcohol? People do it, I guess.

Through my cynical lens I find it depressing thinking about the shells of sobriety trying to salvage their spirit with non-alcoholic drinks. The desire never leaves you, does it? It's always there touching you in that empty space. God, will that be me someday? Always bored, living in forced contentment toward a lower threshold of fun? What about escaping into mental wilderness? What about living through great stories? I worry without the escape I'd turn into something like the Tin Man rusted shut from sadness, having watched my personality fallen asleep from the numbing perfume of adulthood.

Anyhow, these escapes of mine keep me lucid enough to keep doing this thing we all do.

So maybe I should understand Cody’s choices better. I’d sincerely asked him one day to never go down any road that I can’t follow him on, but what example was I setting? I drew a line but I'm no better. I steer toward the same cardinal point but to a lesser degree.

I often go through good days, riding creative highs and getting into the snap of productivity and exercise, but I always have it in the back of my head that there is that escape somewhere whenever I say I need it. Actually, I think part of what I enjoy is the rise and fall. I enjoy the facade of the healthy days. I brag about them like I mean it.

"I feel great, I haven't chewed on my stitches in days!" and I still buy it when I hear it come out of my mouth. I mean, I think I do believe it when I'm in the throes of a really healthy lifestyle, and I even start to think I'm normal, but even then, that's not entirely true.

Normal people don't exist while being overly conscious of not hitting their head on the ceiling. Sometimes I wonder if I'm more normal when I'm drinking because I can be so present, but even that doesn't sound right because normal people rarely look like they're having fun.

Christ, the things people will laugh at. It’s like we all come equipped with canned laughter to put adult tension at ease.  I know because I do it too. It just comes out of me to smooth over oddity.

Then there’s the other kind of eager laughter that wants out so bad we’ll convince ourselves that something amusing is actually funny. I’m guilty of this one too. I just want out so bad that I constantly look for those pockets to howl into, but it never leaves me satisfied.

What I really want is to feel out of control. I want my feelings to have nonsensical company. I want to let go of the handlebars of mind, spirit, and body, and for something overwhelming to take me over completely.

But, is it normal to want every laugh to be the kind that makes you momentarily crazy? Because that is how I want each laugh to be.

I want each laugh to make me lose my fucking mind.

[inkformyblood]

If you are still taking prompts. Cody/Obi-Wan/Quinlan + "and they took turns while the other kept watch".

((Thank you for the prompt! It was a very fun one to write. Sorry if it was from a specific list but I couldn't see one ^^ I always enjoy prompts so feel free to send anymore my way <3))

Pairing: Cody x Obi-Wan x Quinlan AU: Post-Order 66, Tatooine Husbands

“Ready?”

Obi-Wan came awake in an instant at Quinlan’s whisper, his eyes snapping open to nothingness as complete as the darkness that haunts his dreams. It takes him a moment, it always does now, to catalogue the feeling of loss that has settled in his chest as his thoughts try to reach out along bonds that have been torn from him.

“Ready for what?” Obi-Wan asks, turning his head just enough to inspect the boundaries of the room they are in.

It is small and made of worn painted stone, colour splashed over darkened crevices as the faint light from the lantern in Quinlan’s hand jumps and shudders with every breath. There is a pile of storage crates in one corner, lashed together with rope. He can smell the faint tang of rust and ozone that leaks from them. In the other corner, a single door is propped ajar, leading into the fresher and he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, a reflexive bolt of surprise shooting through him.

His face is lined and his hair, once bright and full of fire, is silver at his temples, streaks pushing through his curls like comet trails.

Quinlan chuckles, the sound raspy and uneven, catching in his throat as he places the lantern down, drawing the heavy cloak over his head. “Must have been a good dream I woke you from.

“We need to take turns keeping watch while the Empire is on the planet. Remember?” Quinlan speaks quickly and quietly. His remorse stains every word but he doesn’t pause until Obi-Wan bites back a keen, curling forwards as he presses his hands to his mouth.

Remembering is a quick blade to a heart that can never fully heal.

“Cody?” Obi-Wan asks after what feels like a lifetime, turning to study the empty expanse of the bed next to him. The sheets are cool as he stretches out to brush his fingers over them, drawing the patterned blanket Quinlan had picked up the last time he had visited the market from where it is balled up along the line of the pillows.

“He came up an hour or so ago.” Quinlan held out his hand for the blanket as he sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. Obi-Wan passes it over, brushing his fingers over Quinlan’s as he does so. There is an echo of grief in his touch, muted where he had once been as bright and as loud as a sunset, and Obi-Wan can taste the faintly spiced hot chocolate they kept for nights like this smooth over his mouth like a kiss. Quinlan’s hands are chilled, the tips of his fingers burning against Obi-Wan’s palm, and he pauses to catch the other man’s hands, cupping them in his own.

It is easy to lean forwards and brush a kiss over the curve of Quinlan’s thumb, Obi-Wan’s lips catching on silvery raised scars that he hadn’t held before. Their new life is difficult and it extracts its payment from each of them.

“There was a time,” Quinlan murmurs, his voice rough and thick with sleep as his words slur together, no longer awake but not quite asleep, “when I would have died to have you look at me like that.”

“You always knew I loved you, Quin,” Obi-Wan whispers, leaning forwards to kiss Quinlan, feeling the man grin beneath his lips and try to kiss him back, clumsy and uncoordinated.

“Yeah, but it’s all different now.” They part as Quinlan tips sideways, managing to clumsily roll himself in the blanket on his way down.

Obi-Wan stands carefully, feeling the bed tip and shift as Quinlan works his way up to approximately shove his head underneath their pillows, one arm stretched out across the expanse of the bed – always searching for something he could never name. “Sleep well, Quin.”

Quinlan mumbles something Obi-Wan can’t catch but, for a moment, the Force flares around him, content and warm like it had been before. It doesn’t last long before it sputters and settles back into smoky nothingness like a dying candle, but it is enough for Obi-Wan to step away. His cloak hangs on a small peg next to the stairs that lead up to the main room and he pulls it on as he walks.

Stepping into the single room of the hut, he stretches out a hand in front of him even as the other settles at his throat, drawing the cloak tighter around him. The cold bites at the exposed skin on his face and the edges of his ankles so he quickly walks to the small ladder that leads up to the covered dome they had carefully built several summers ago.

It groans beneath his weight, flakes of decaying paint clinging to his palms as he pulls himself upwards. His arms ache in protest, a foreign sensation he was quickly having to become used to in the baking desert heat. Farming is an exhausting never-ending occupation and at the peak of the growing season, they had all been too tired to do much more than kiss each other before they collapsed into bed.

Then, the Empire had arrived. It had been small groups at first, but they knew the signs well by then.

Obi-Wan fumbles with the latch, chilled fingers slipping on the fabric ties until it is lifted from above him, a hand stretching through the gap to tug at the knot.

“I told him to let you sleep,” Cody says, silhouetted in the moonlight that draws heavy shadows in the creases of his brow and the cluster of wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. He moves slowly but with purpose, stepping backwards and turning to inspect the rolling expanse of sand that stretches unbroken to the horizon before he crouches down.

He looks almost predatory in a way he never had before the chip sunk its claws into his mind, constantly weighing up his thoughts and his actions, waiting for the one that would betray him again.

“Structure needs to be maintained,” Obi-Wan says, hearing the ghost of the Temple in his words, and he catches a glimpse as Cody grins, shaking his head slowly. He groans as the tension in his back catches and fires, pain melting down his leg and robbing him of any strength, but Cody is there.

His grip is sure, his hands worn and rough, and Obi-Wan leans into him as they move in tandem, settling against one wall to stare out over the desert.

Cody is a warm weight against Obi-Wan’s chest, his legs stretched out to one side so he can twist to rest his head in the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck. His curls brush with every exhale, a crawling sensation that sends sparks down Obi-Wan’s spine, an inherent warning of something creeping over his skin that he ignores. Obi-Wan curls his hand around Cody’s waist, pressing his hand to his stomach and feeling the soft give of it, no longer just muscle stretched taut beneath his skin.

They had all changed, in their own ways.

Cody’s eyes are dark as he stares resolutely out the small viewport, something Obi-Wan can only just make out in the faint reflection he casts, more shadow than a man with the Empire’s reach stretching ever closer.

“Do you remember—” Obi-Wan begins, his voice low and his thoughts escaping him even as he reaches for them. He speaks without knowing what he is going to say and is just as surprised as Cody at what swims to the surface. “—that bar we wound up in when we had some surface leave on Dybbron III?”

It startles a laugh out of Cody and Obi-Wan realises it had been too long since he had heard the other man chuckle. The sound is uneven, catching on the dry patches in Cody’s throat and rumbles through them like an earthquake as Cody stretches to brush a kiss over the line of Obi-Wan’s throat.

“That bath,” Cody murmurs against his skin, his voice torn between amusement and longing, and Obi-Wan hums his agreement, letting his gaze blur as he stares out over the desert.

It had been too small for three people to work themselves into, a tangled mess of hot soapy water and aching limbs, but they had made it work amidst muffled laughter and trading kisses to every scrap of skin they could reach.

“I like our bed better though,” Cody says, curling his free hand across the one Obi-Wan has pressed to his stomach and rests his fingers into the hollows between his knuckles.

“I know. There is a storm coming in a few days and we can sleep undisturbed then.”

Cody nods, his cheek twitching as he chews on it, clearly not believing Obi-Wan. The Jedi laughs, lightly bumping the side of his head with his temple.

“Or we can all stay in the bed and talk, or crowd in up here. We will make it work.”

“That sounds more likely,” Cody chuckles.

His eyes drift closed in the reflection and Obi-Wan listens as his breathing slows and deepens into something approaching sleep. Obi-Wan would keep watch for as long as it took just so his loves could sleep peacefully.