#That's not how the Force works

[short-wooloo]

Because the stupid acolyte witches have brought it back to the forefront with their nonsense, I need to remind everyone

DARTH PLAGUEIS DID NOT CREATE ANAKIN

People who either never read or haven't read the Darth Plagueis book in a long time always seem to forget that Plagueis' experiments FAILED

He tried-TRIED to create life through the Force, it didn't work, badly, it didn't work so badly that it managed to piss off the Force which in turn retaliated by creating Anakin, Plagueis' attempt at creating life was so unnatural, such a perversion, so offensive that the Force created a life form for the purpose of destroying the sith

[doublesunsets]

It's been THREE weeks since the finale and I still can't believe that for season 3 (and last!) of The Bad Batch they brought back from the dead Asajj Ventress, but not Tech, like ???????

[mollysunder]

*Listens to Supermassive Black Hole/7 Nation Army remix*

*Thinks in montage*

Could Anakin Skywalker, or the jedi as a whole, use the force to make a super massive black hole?

[themonopolyhat]

i cannot overstate my love for the ao3 tag That's Not How The Force Works

i mean no two people probably agree on exactly how the Force does work but like

that tag? that tag is shorthand for "i am going to do whatever the hell i want" and i am here for it

i like fic that cleaves close to canon representations of the Force just fine, your honor

i also like time travel, synesthetic sensory fuckery, body swaps, extra-canon philosophical meandering drawn from the author's headcanons, soulbond aus, weird possession shit, psychic hijinks, and et cetera

it just kills me that we have repurposed this canon quote like "yeah? and???"

[ohgodmyeyes]

So Long As You Enjoyed Them

Unable to see the stars through Mustafar's thick atmosphere, you confess to Darth Vader that you miss the view you once had from aboard the Executor.

Vader, in his infinite kindness, indulges you...

"Is there a problem?"

Vader's voice came to you suddenly from the entrance to your quarters, but it didn't make you jump: You'd known since early morning that he was finally on his way back to you. He'd been gone too long this time, you thought; it was late in the evening by now, and you'd spent practically the entire day anticipating his arrival.

Nonetheless, you were too absorbed in your own musings at that moment, gazing out your window, to so much as look back in his direction when you answered his query, "It's nothing new, Sir."

"Tell me," he insisted— never having been one to mince words. He didn't move from his spot in the doorway, although you could sense that he very much wanted to.

You heaved a sigh.

You truly didn't want to talk about it; at the same time, you knew he wasn't going to let it go.

"...It's that I can't see the stars from here, m'Lord," you admitted, before it could turn into an argument you were certain to lose. "I'm still not used to it."

To that, Vader fell predictably silent: It wasn't the first time you'd complained to him about the smoke in the sky here on Mustafar; he never did seem to know what to say about it. His present haplessness was a large part of why you now hotly regretted having been caught gazing out at it again— Vader liked to try to please you; when he couldn't manage it, he tended to grow frustrated quickly.

"Don't trouble yourself with it, Sir," you went on, hoping you sounded convincing enough to quell his typically-overzealous concern. "It's a fruitless lament; you and I both know there's nothing to be done about it."

"...Perhaps not," he slowly confessed, "but if you are suffering for it—"

"I'm not suffering," you promised him, finally managing to peel away from the large, heat-resistant windowpane through which you'd been caught skygazing in favour of looking at Vader himself. "I haven't 'suffered' even a moment since arriving, Sir, I can assure you."

"We've discussed honourifics, Captain," he reminded you, finally striding over to join you at the glass. "You are no longer required to make use of them. Additionally, I would strongly advise you to refrain from lying to me— particularly about your thoughts and feelings. Dishonesty serves no purpose here."

You still use them, you thought belligerently to yourself, of the honourifics. Then, aloud, "I'm not lying." You almost added yet another Sir to the end of your sentence, but managed to stop yourself... at least that time.

"Yes you are," he countered plainly, tilting his head to stare down at you through his mask. "I could feel your pain practically from the docking bay."

You paused. "...I apologize," you conceded, because he was right: There really was no point in lying to him, about your feelings or anything else. "My time on the Executor must simply have spoiled me." There were countless stars visible from Darth Vader's ship twenty-four hours a cycle; all you'd ever had to do to see them was peer out any one of a number of view ports. You'd grown rather accustomed to the privilege over the course of your assignment there— not realizing, of course, how very much you would miss it until it was taken from you.

Vader fell silent again, as if considering what to say.

You didn't dare interrupt him.

"The stars aren't visible from Coruscant, either," he seemed to settle on. "The city lights pollute the sky there as thoroughly as the smoke does here."

"That's true," you acknowledged. You, too, had spent time on Coruscant as a child; Vader knew of your shared experience, often seeming to latch onto it when he perceived too much distance between you. "Being assigned to your vessel was a surreal experience; for months, I could hardly pass by a port without stopping to stare."

"I know," he said, seeming to have gathered himself. "I observed you. Understand that when I first arrived on Coruscant as a child, I was also accustomed to being able to see the stars— on Tatooine, the sky was clear, and I used to admire them; even dream of exploring them. The irony, of course, being that finally reaching them largely meant losing sight of what made them so intriguing to begin with."

"...I'm sorry," you said, more than a little taken aback by his honesty. "I didn't realize."

"My intent is not to elicit pity, but to engender understanding."

"Thank you, Sir." You appreciated his sympathy, even if you hadn't expected it; you also winced upon realizing you'd called him the wrong thing again— although graciously, he didn't chide you for it this time.

Another long, admittedly tense moment of silence passed as you stood together, there at the window. Vader turned his gaze from you, and you turned yours from him; simultaneously, you each stared out at the sprawling homogeneity of the landscape.

A star or two in the sky would have at least done something to break up the monotony of the smoke and magma, you thought.

...Even in your head, you didn't mean to sound bitter.

"You must understand by now that your presence on Mustafar is in your own best interest," Vader said. It was less a question, coming from him, than it was a blunt statement of fact.

It was easy to forget how very simple it was for Darth Vader to peer into your mind.

"Your personal safety is of paramount concern to me," he went on, "and we've already established that I refuse to entertain any arguments to the contrary. Your place is here, at least for the time being— the condition of the sky notwithstanding."

"Yes— yes, I do understand," you said, venturing (perhaps unwisely) to peer back up at him as you spoke. "However, Sir... 'understanding' doesn't make me miss the stars any less."

Vader didn't return your gaze (he never truly did, when necessity dictated that he wear his mask)— but, if he could have, you suspected he might have sighed.

"I'm sorry," you began, "I shouldn't have—"

"How badly do you want to see them?" he interrupted you, as brusquely as ever.

"See what? You can't possibly mean—"

"The stars." He might as well have added 'you idiot' to the end of his statement, for the way he seemed to spit it out at you.

"Lord Vader, you yourself just said it wasn't safe for me to—"

"It isn't," he agreed, again before you had a chance to finish. "I am not suggesting that you leave the planet, Captain— or even my fortress, for that matter."

You shook your head. "I don't understand. Telescopes don't work; only the sensors can penetrate—"

"Quiet," he commanded. "I am not referencing a telescope."

"Then what—"

"Do you wish to view them or not?"

"Y— yes!" you stammered. "Yes, I do! I very much do wish to view them, Sir, but—"

"Then you shall."

He raised his hand— his right one, specifically— before the window: A grand-looking gesture, at least when somebody like Darth Vader did it. The hot, orange glow of the lava outside reflected off the dull sheen of his glove; his mask and the front of his armour took on warped hints of its hue as well. If nothing and no one else, you thought, this planet at least suited him; if you took any pleasure at all in its overbearing climate, it was that Vader seemed to glean some measure of comfort in its warmth.

Presently, he almost seemed to be drawing from it— even without looking, you'd have been able to feel the intensity of his determination as his mechanized fingers trembled under their leather sheath, and his chest heaved despite his suit.

You knew the Force well enough to know that it flowed through everything, but from Vader it rushed; as if bursting a dam, it bellowed out of him and into your consciousness, absolutely penetrating every inch of the room around you. It thrummed beneath your feet and bore down from the ceiling, closing in like a set of walls as he cultivated its strength; you half-expected your throat to tighten, or for your knees to buckle, but neither of those things happened.

All you could feel were heat and life: Raw life, coarse and frenzied; the sheer power of the living, breathing, melting stone that ebbed and flowed all around you.

"...What are you doing?" you murmured under your breath, as transfixed by Vader's appearance in that moment as you were by his essence merging with what he'd harvested from the planet to flood your senses. You always had been able to detect the subtle flicker of his eyes from behind his visor, but right now, they didn't 'flicker' at all.

He couldn't have answered you with words, even if he'd tried; nonetheless, your attention was then drawn outward, to the space beyond your window. It was, at first, only the barest hint of movement amongst the clouds that caught your eye; you turned your head anyhow, because again— save for the catatonic whirling of the infinite seas of smoke and lava— the landscape here didn't tend to change very much.

Right now, though, the sky almost appeared to dance, its typically-predictable movements having turned haphazard in a way that was both peculiar and mesmerizing. Under different circumstances, you might have believed you were witnessing the formation of a particularly violent storm; alas, you understood Vader and the breadth of his power well enough to know that what you were witnessing had nothing at all to do with the weather.

"Sir!" you exclaimed, stepping back from the glass in awe as the blackened halves of the sky finally tore apart from one another to reveal to you the long-withheld majesty of space itself. Your eyes filled with tears, and you felt yourself gape; it had been so long since you'd last seen it that you could scarcely believe it was really there— but what else could possibly have been hiding, behind all of those ugly, ash-laden clouds?

You glanced in Vader's direction. You knew he could feel you looking, but he still didn't speak; his hand continued to tremble faintly, and he dug his boots sharply into the floor.

For all his effort, the steady metronome of his breathing was the only sound you could hear.

Suddenly, one of his heels slipped on the polished stone; by then, though, the spectacle outside the window had reclaimed your attention, and you didn't register the struggle he put up to regain his footing. The clouds and smoke receded to the very edges of the landscape, replaced nearly as though you were back on the Executor with the stars, their dust, and everything else that circled them.

Nearby systems; far-flung constellations; and tiny, unidentifiable points of light of every imaginable variety infiltrated the blackness, all just as magnificent as you'd remembered.

Those tears in your eyes began to obscure your vision; you blinked them away in haste, because it was obvious that Vader couldn't maintain this (whatever 'this' was) for very much longer.

"Lord Vader," you began again, hoping to express something in the spirit of gratitude but instead only managing to stammer. "S-Sir, I... I...."

You noticed something that looked like a moon, then, as Vader's tinny breathing began to grow hoarse. It might not actually have been a moon, you thought to yourself; you didn't even know how many of those Mustafar had— but whatever it was, it was beautiful.

His foot slipped on the stone again, causing him to falter, but you didn't notice that.

What you did notice, from behind that distinctly lunar-looking object you'd already spotted, was the sight of a comet, or at least something like one: It zipped by too quickly for you to properly discern it, somewhere far away from the planet.

It was as quick as anything— but ten times as lovely, in spite of its smallness. No one had ever taught you to wish on shooting stars, because shooting stars couldn't be seen from Coruscant: The only thing you knew to do with them was look.

...It was in the midst of your 'looking' that the clouds and smoke finally swept in to converge again, the galaxy and everything in it disappearing behind them.

Quicker and far less graceful than their retreat, the clouds' knitting themselves together was jarring; you stumbled back from the window almost as if in fright, feeling dreadfully and suddenly empty.

Frozen in place, you stared out at the newly-restored landscape until a hard-sounding thwack rang from inside the room.

"Sir!"

Your knees were next to impact the tile, as you rushed across the floor and dropped to Vader's side. You couldn't see his face, but it wasn't safe to take off his mask here; unable to read the output on his chest box, you strained to scoop his upper half into your arms.

His suit was heavy— almost too heavy, at least for somebody like you.

Grace eluded you as you moved, but it didn't stop you from squinting through the red haze of his visor to try and catch a glimpse of his eyes. You could see that they were open; maybe only barely, but open all the same.

"Lord Vader," you pleaded, not about to let yourself feel relieved until you heard him speak to you.

"The... honourifics," he reminded you, in a voice that cracked and fizzed like a bad transmission. Was he being irreverent? Perhaps— but again, you didn't dare risk removing his mask.

"I— I'm sorry," you said, because what else was there? You loved him, but you hated yourself; how much additional damage had he just wrought against his own body, in the name of indulging your sad whims? "I never meant for you to—"

"Were they as beautiful as you remembered?" he interrupted, through a long, pneumatic hiss.

"Of course they were!" you promised, pulling him as close to your chest as you could manage. "They were magnificent! But—"

"'But' nothing," he insisted. "So long as you enjoyed them."

"What about you?" you begged— but, having fallen unconscious by then, Vader didn't answer you.

The lights on his chest began blinking next, with enough frenzy to frighten you. Incapable of reading their output, you grappled with the decision of whether to leave him to go for help, or cradle him in your arms in the hope that he would wake of his own accord; soon, though, your concern won out, and you found yourself lowering him as gently to the floor as you could.

A tender, futile kiss to the top of his helmet and a longing gaze over your shoulder were all you had to leave him with, as you broke into a run to fetch one of his servants. Briefly, the restored darkness of the sky outside your window commanded your attention; guilt and renewed bitterness gripped you at the sight of the smoke and ash, but you ignored them, because you feared there wasn't any time not to.

Just like Vader's had minutes before, your own boots slipped helplessly on the polished tile as you sped down the corridor. You fell— only to catch yourself with one elbow before scrambling desperately back to your feet, mired in fresh pain and blinded by your own tears.

The two of you would never talk about the stars again.

[metataxy]

Force Sensitivity as a Genetic Trait

I’ve often wondered about how Force Sensitivity might have evolved in the Star Wars universe.  Some thoughts:

1. While powerful Force Sensitives like Anakin sometimes crop up due to 'Will of the Force' or unanticipated genetic mutations, Sensitives were rarer before hyperspace travel, and before Orders like the Jedi or Sith began to gather people with these abilities together.  Since Sensitives prefer the company of other Sensitives, and the Orders themselves become quite insular, this leads to millennia of interbreeding and increasingly powerful Jedi.  Although chastity goes in and out of fashion in the Jedi Order, most Jedi do have other Sensitives somewhere in their family.  Increased chastity among the Jedi and the Rule of Two among the Sith has decreased the number of Sensitives overall.

Tbh, I like the idea of Force Sensitivity as a genetic quirk less than the idea of it being something anyone can potentially have, because the former seems to lend itself to notions surrounding dynasty, privilege, tribalism, etc...

2. Part of the reason Jedi are encouraged to be chaste is not only because they’re supposed to be impartial (which, say, being married to a Senator seems to violate), but because the ruling classes recognize the advantages of having a Force Sensitive in the family.  I imagine at some point of history, female aristocrats were highly motivated to get an heir by a Force user… and the trouble that dynasties of Force-wielding autocrats might cause the galaxy (coughcough, Skywalkers, coughcough).

3. I imagine Jedi attuned to the Living Force rejoice in every form of intimacy as a means of communion with each other and the Force, but especially procreative sex, as means of generating new life.  I also imagine that for this reason, Qui-Gon left his love children all over the galaxy.  Obi-Wan, of course, was too busy or too <i>attached</i> to particular people, like Satine or Cody, to often enjoy this sort of thing… but I like to think it’s not a coincidence Cal Kestis and Mara Jade have red hair.

4.  In this headcanon, Order 66 at least spared younglings who were too little to really remember the Jedi Order, if only because Palpatine wanted to preserve some of the Temple bloodlines for powerful henchmen.

5.  Did the Sith ever selectively breed Force Sensitives for specific purposes in canon?  Planning to use this idea in a Star Wars Legends fic, if I ever have the time to finish it...

[anakinspraisekink]

Obikin Kinktober #5 ~ Hand & Finger Kink, DP, Humiliation

Masterlist

(My gif)

Other relevant tags: Rated E, Padawan Anakin/Knight Obi-Wan, Established Relationship, Light Dom/sub (Dom Obi-Wan, sub Anakin), Top Obi-Wan/Bottom Anakin, Double Penetration with fingers + with the Force, Verbal Humiliation, Name-Calling, Anal Sex, Inappropriate Use of the Force

Word count: ≈2.1k

Read below or on ao3!

Obi-Wan lets out a breathy grunt as he sinks his cock back into Anakin’s hole, watching as Anakin squirms below him on the sheets, pink lips parted and eyelashes fluttering. Running hands up Anakin’s arched chest, Obi-Wan grinds in deep and listens to the filthy wet sound it produces that makes his cock throb and Anakin’s ears flush red. Anakin is extra wet inside because Obi-Wan took longer preparing him to make sure he could take more than just cock, because Anakin had begged him for more tonight, to take Obi-Wan’s fingers alongside Obi-Wan’s cock. 

He is certain that Anakin has a thing for Obi-Wan’s hands because he’s always wanting them pulling at his hair or gripping onto his hips, wants his fingers pumping into his hole or pushing into his mouth. And of course, Anakin loves to be full, and Obi-Wan loves to make that happen. “Are you ready to take my fingers now just like you asked for?” Obi-Wan asks. “When you came up to me saying, ‘Master, fuck me with your cock and fingers, fill me up, I need it.’” He pitches his voice higher as he gently mocks Anakin like he knows Anakin secretly enjoys, and listens as Anakin whimpers. 

Anakin nods and exhales out a, “Please,” so Obi-Wan stops the lazy movement of his hips to pick up the lube again. He slicks up his fingers once more before reaching down to trace around the stretched rim of Anakin’s hole, watching as Anakin tries so hard to stay still and keep breathing calmly. Obi-Wan stays there rubbing the pad of one finger against his fluttering rim, letting the tip of it slip inside whenever Anakin’s hole just greedily eats it up. Anakin is used to it because he’s taken this much before, so Obi-Wan presses his finger inside Anakin’s hole alongside his cock and creates space for himself, gasping at the sudden tightness around his cock. Anakin cries out at the feeling, jolting his hips forward to try and get even more as Obi-Wan starts gently thrusting his finger in and out as much as he can, grinding his cock in at the same time. 

“You always take it so well, Padawan,” Obi-Wan murmurs, his cock throbbing deliciously inside of Anakin as Anakin’s hole works desperately around him. “You were made to take it, even though your hole’s just so little and I’m so big.” The words just drop out of his mouth like they usually do when they get to this point, relishing Anakin’s reaction of a choked-off breath and a whiny moan. 

“M-more,” Anakin begs, pretty eyes dark and glazed over, his hair all endearingly mussed up and sticking to his forehead. 

“Already?” Obi-Wan asks with feigned surprise. “Such a little slut,” he remarks, letting fondness creep into his tone despite his words. Anakin whimpers loudly at that, loving when Obi-Wan calls him such things, as he writhes on the bed and looks up at him with that pleading, puppy-dog gaze that Obi-Wan can never say no to. So Obi-Wan lets his second lubed finger pet around Anakin’s rim, coaxing him until he can push it in right next to the first, trapping it tightly inside of him against his own aching cock. Anakin is so hot and wet inside, his muscles convulsing around him as he adjusts to being so full, and it has Obi-Wan nearly delirious and struggling to stay collected. 

Anakin gasps, sharp and high-pitched, and Obi-Wan watches as he just melts to the bedsheets, his body going pliant as he lets Obi-Wan fill him up. “See? Your sweet little hole just lets me in so easily,” Obi-Wan says with a smirk, making Anakin squirm a bit and blush even more. Obi-Wan moves his fingers inside of him as he gives him little grinds with his hips, barely fucking him still and yet it has Anakin moaning all the while. And just those tiny movements have Obi-Wan desperately holding back from coming, his fingers rubbing against the throbbing length of his cock which feels like it’s being practically strangled by Anakin’s hole. 

“So tight,” Obi-Wan grits out, and it only has Anakin clenching down on him more in response. “Yeah, sweetheart? I fuck you so much and yet you’re still so tight like a good slut.” Anakin keens loudly at his words, heads tilting back against the bed as his breathing gets more ragged. Obi-Wan remembers when he first called Anakin that, when they were trying Obi-Wan’s fingers alongside his cock for the first time. How Obi-Wan had barely slipped in the tip of one finger next to his cock before he’d tentatively called him a slut and it had Anakin suddenly moaning and coming all over his belly even though his face was reddened with a raging blush. But that’s the point; he likes the bit of humiliation and it gets him off so easily.

“Another—” Anakin chokes out, and Obi-Wan groans. 

“Say please, Ani,” Obi-Wan reprimands, leaning down to press open-mouthed kisses to Anakin’s flushed skin simply because he can’t help it. 

“Please, Master,” Anakin says immediately, and Obi-Wan pulls back again so he can reward him by rubbing a third finger against his pink, soft rim. It’s an even tighter fit, his fingers feeling squeezed as he gently thrusts the third one inside, and Anakin releases a drawn-out whimper. But he still takes it all, letting Obi-Wan move his fingers inside of him, filling him up. 

“So beautiful, dear one, you take me so very well,” Obi-Wan says with awe, his entire body thrumming with heat and need as Anakin continuously pulses around him. Anakin’s eyelashes are wet and clumped together with unshed tears, and his eyes look up at Obi-Wan with so much pleasure and adoration, looking like he’s on another plane of existence now. Obi-Wan’s breath catches; he can still barely believe such a lovely creature lets him do this, lets him fuck him and love on him, lets take him apart so thoroughly and put him back together again. Obi-Wan keeps his fingers still now and gives Anakin a few steady thrusts with his cock instead, making Anakin cry out so prettily. 

“More!” Anakin suddenly pleads, and it makes Obi-Wan pause, wondering what Anakin wants next. 

“More? A cock and three fingers in your greedy little hole and you still want even more?” Obi-Wan goads, and Anakin turns his head to the side, whining. “Do you want another finger?” Anakin bites his bottom lip and shakes his head, so Obi-Wan hums, pretending to think. “So you want one of your toys then?” Obi-Wan asks, remembering the memorable time when he fucked Anakin with both his cock and Anakin’s dildo. Anakin shyly shakes his head again. 

“Want . . . want more of you,” he says softly, and Obi-Wan is confused until he sees the glimmer of something flash through their bond, and oh. They’ve never done that before. 

Concentrating, Obi-Wan reaches out with the Force and uses it to tease gently at Anakin’s rim, letting him get a taste of the feeling of Force pressure where he’s so sensitive. “You mean like this?” Obi-Wan asks, watching as Anakin’s eyes grow wide at the feeling, his breathing shaky and excited. 

“Y-yes—!” Anakin gasps out, his entire body practically trembling by now. Gods. Obi-Wan has to stop and take some deep breaths so he doesn’t come in the next few seconds. 

“I want you to ride me, alright?” He asks, and Anakin immediately nods. Then he carefully pulls his fingers out of Anakin and regretfully draws his cock out too, listening as Anakin sobs at the feeling. “Hush, you’ll be full again soon,” Obi-Wan coos, and Anakin whimpers softly and blushes even more. Obi-Wan coaxes him up so they can switch positions, until Obi-Wan sits on the bed with Anakin straddling him. 

Anakin is looking gorgeously destroyed, his body flushed and trembling, tears in his eyes and cock terribly hard and leaking. “Okay?” Obi-Wan asks seriously, caressing his hands up Anakin’s sides. 

“Yeah, ’m okay. Wan’ more,” Anakin responds with a little pout, voice fucked out, and Obi-Wan grins. 

“Good. Then come on, Padawan, if you want it so badly, then take it,” he taunts, playfully yanking on Anakin’s Padawan braid. Anakin gasps and fumbles with Obi-Wan’s cock in his hand, letting the head catch on his loosened hole and moaning as he sinks down on the length, taking it all once more. Obi-Wan groans and grips onto Anakin tighter, unable to help it as his hips lazily roll up, thrusting his cock deeper into Anakin. One hand finds Anakin’s ass, one finger petting around Anakin’s sore, puffy rim where he’s stretched so much wide around Obi-Wan’s cock, just to see Anakin’s bottom lip quiver at the feeling. 

Then Obi-Wan uses the Force to tease at Anakin’s hole again, the pressure smooth and thick as a finger yet intangible. Anakin gasps sharply as Obi-Wan pushes inside alongside his cock, slowly increasing the width of the Force until it’s just a bit smaller than Obi-Wan’s cock. Obi-Wan is nearly shaking himself, affected by the concentration he’s exerting and the pressure against his cock, encompassed by Anakin’s tight, tight hole and the Force. 

Anakin is taking in great, gasping breaths, eyes fluttering as he tries to keep them open, his hands kneading weakly at Obi-Wan’s shoulders as he tries to adjust to being so impossibly full. “F-f-fu—” Anakin tries to get out, the word ending in a desperate mewl. 

“Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asks with a bit of difficulty, gritting his teeth as he continues to smoothly pump his hips up while still keeping a hold on the Force. 

“It’s—it, nngh, it’s so g-good,” Anakin whines, head talking back, exposing the line of his elegant neck. Obi-Wan wishes he could put his mouth on it, but he can only do so much right now, and is barely doing much more than rocking Anakin in his lap at this point. Both of them get lost in the moment for a few minutes, the only sound their heavy breathing and the wetness of Obi-Wan’s cock fucking Anakin, both of them overwhelmed with sensation. Anakin also lets out occasional whiny exhales and whimpers, lips parted and brow creased, body lax and looking so utterly gorgeous on top of Obi-Wan. 

“Anakin, you’re incredible, taking so much, fuck, you feel so good,” Obi-Wan groans out, rambling like he usually does when he’s close. Anakin moans in response, clenching as much as he can around him, before he’s shakily picking up one of Obi-Wan’s hands and bringing it up to his mouth. “You need your mouth to be full, too, darling?” Obi-Wan asks, and Anakin whines, immediately sucking on Obi-Wan’s fingers and Obi-Wan slips two into his mouth. Obi-Wan’s thrusts become jerky and sharp, and he’s barely holding on from the tightness around his cock, his concentration in using the Force, and the sight of Anakin coming apart before his gaze. 

Obi-Wan’s skin is slicked with sweat, eyes going hazy and hair hanging damp in his face, and Anakin’s cries are starting to get more frantic even as they’re muffled around Obi-Wan’s fingers. They’re both getting so close. Soon Obi-Wan’s fingers slip out of Anakin’s mouth as Anakin collapses forward, burying his face into his neck and clinging onto him. Obi-Wan wraps his arms around him, entire body throbbing with need. 

“Are you going to come, Padawan?” Obi-Wan rasps out. “I want you to come, come for me while you’re stuffed full of my cocks,” he continues, barely aware of his words, but apparently it’s enough. Anakin suddenly shakes violently in his lap and comes with a loud keen, hole pulsing around him and his cock coating Obi-Wan’s stomach with his release. It’s nearly unbearable for Obi-Wan now, and he dissolves the Force pressure in Anakin’s ass as slowly as possible so that he can concentrate fully on coming. 

“Oh, fuck, Ani, I can’t—” Obi-Wan gasps, pleasure building up delicious and devastating, cock still messily fucking up into Anakin.

“Come, Master, please come—” Anakin begs, still shaking through the aftermath of his orgasm, and then Obi-Wan’s own hits him. It’s brutally powerful, hitting him hard and leaving him absolutely breathless, his mind blanking for a good few seconds. He thinks he might have truly become one with the Force for a moment. 

“Well, blast,” he says a bit senselessly after he comes back down, and he hears Anakin suddenly giggling softly at him against his skin where he’s wrapped around him, still in his lap. And Obi-Wan smiles and tiredly leans down to kiss Anakin’s head, glad that they’re in each other’s arms. 

[accursedkaleeshi]

why didn't kenobi just use the force to break one of the wires in grevious' lightsabers when they fought?

“Unit, do I look like I am one with the force?” Grievous snapped at you incredulously.

“No. I do not know how their magic works, I just counter it.” For a second it looked like that was all he had to say on the matter but he suddenly turned back to you with a claw raised in a sharp accusatory gesture.

“Also! Why does Kenobi do anything? Sometimes I would think I had his brand of selfless altruism pinned down & then he would go & do something insanely stupid that made me reevaluate not only him, as a threat, but also my existence-,” The general’s deadpan expression was cut short by a bout of coughing.

[phoenixyfriend]

Reverse Psychometry AU

The Force gets very upset with the fact that the Dark Side is gaining so much traction, and decides to fuck with Quinlan’s psychometry so that he starts getting the future of an object, not just the past. He claps Obi-Wan on the shoulder. The robes he’s wearing are the same one’s he’d wear to Mustafar.

Quinlan can see Anakin has all three of his remaining limbs on the other side of the room, and is distinctly not on fire or charred, so this definitely hasn’t happened yet, but uhhhhhhhhhhh.

[joemerl]

Bo-Katan, removing her helmet and low-key betraying your deal:

Din Djarin:

[reformed-uwusoftboi]

Rey: hits a ship with force lightning for like half a second and it blows up

Palpatine: hits a ton of ships with force lightning for several minutes and it doesn't even make them stop working after the fact they're just like, stuck for a bit

Which is it, J.J.? WHICH IS IT?

[dalidalia359]

Yeah, so I did a thing.

Ben Kenobi died. He died to save Luke and Leia and Han. From the comfort of the Force, he watched as the Empire fell. But then the force had done... something.

Blunt Summary:

Ben Kenobi is thrusted back in time into the mind of his 5 year-old self. Little Obi-Wan doesn't know what is going on or why he can suddenly feel another presence inside his mind, nudging him to make weird decisions. But he appreciates that his ability to sweet talk himself out of any trouble has suddenly doubled. It's good revenge is not the Jedi way and that the Force is not something corporeal or else Ben has a few things he would like to do to it.

[thecinematichorse]

It always makes be laugh when horses have apparently been running at high speed for a long time -- and in the case of these horses running full tilt boogie into the current scene -- but they’re never sweaty. That’s the real magic, right there.

[she-elf4]

The Joker, or Maybe Not

Now, I admit, I haven't read every comic the Joker has ever appeared in, so what I'm saying here is probably not universally true. However, I've got a serious problem with the Joker's character. Namely, the lack of one. The sad thing is, it wasn't always this way. At the beginning of his comic-book life, he was an interesting trickster-thief, still bad but funny and relatable. Now he's nothing more than blood and laughter, and distressingly few jokes for someone named "Joker." We still see hints of his old charisma and charm, just enough to keep people hooked. But inside, he's largely been gutted, the guts of his characterization sacrificed on the altar of profits. This has probably always been going on, but it got especially bad in the Dark Age of Comics. A lot of characters got this treatment then, the Joker no more than Batman or any other hero. But while Batman has been taken back a few steps and gotten some of his earlier characterization returned, the Joker has had no such luck. What's worse is, all of the Joker's random acts of cruelty are handwaved as "insanity" with absolutely no research into real mental health problems or even any characterization continuity between different authors. Instead, that vague and increasingly unlikely "insanity" or, alternatively, an even less likely "super-sanity" is thrown at us with a "Magical Chemical" cause that makes even the Dalai Lama turn into a homicidal psychopath (as we see with The Batman Who Laughs), or possibly not (as we see in Harley Quinn) with even less actual understanding of how psychopathy works.

The only real jokes made are the jokes the authors put into the Joker's mouth aimed at the readers, thus breaking the fourth wall and emphasizing the fact that, even the authors don't believe in the character they're writing. Let me explain: the idea of "suspension of disbelief" has been around since at least the Victorian era. It was an idea that Tolkien was critical of. He said (and I strongly agree) that if an author is doing his job right, the audience shouldn't have to SUSPEND their disbelief WHILE they are reading, they should come to believe in the secondary world presented in the story (until the story ends, at least). A fourth wall break shatters this by reminding the audience that nothing you're reading is real. Thus, I go from BELIEVING in the secondary world to SUSPENDING my DISBELIEF. Therefore, these authors are making jokes at the expense of their own storytelling. (Now, to be fair, I have seen fourth wall BENDING (not full breaking, as it was aimed at an in-universe reader) used to fantastic effect in the book "The Neverending Story." In this instance, it strengthens the audience's belief by emphasizing that the story, even though it's in a book, is still real.)

Unfortunately, what's been done isn't so easy to undo anymore. Since everything ever written about these characters is considered at least semi-canonical, the official cannon is now a LOOSE CANNON. So, how do we reconcile all these loose cannons and character assassinations? I would say, by taking a few key traits that tend to be fairly common, DOING PROPER RESEARCH, and agreeing on his characterization. First, jokes are important to his character, so let him tell in-universe jokes again (or, at least more than just maniacal laughter and blood). Maybe he can make visual puns and dank memes with his murders. Second, the chemicals he was exposed to made him more aggressive and worsened his mental state. What kind of chemicals can do this after exposure? Arsenic for one, mercury for another. So, maybe a combination of arsenic poisoning and Mad Hatter Disease, which comes with the benefit of making the victim giddy. Third, some common features of his "insanity" is talking to the audience, which in-universe could be seen as a feeling of unreality and hallucinations, and it has worsened over time. Derealization Disorder (which is a type of dissociative disorder, a different type than what Harvey Dent has) with a possible Schizo-Effective Disorder (typically hallucinations and/or delusional or illogical thinking) comorbidity. Psychopathy can be added, but in my opinion, isn't strictly necessary. And, overall, tone down the violence just a little, stop using it as a shorthand for good storytelling! You did it for Batman, do it for the Joker too! In other words, give me the Joker, not another Freddie Kruger. 

[mat2modblog]

I probably should have gone with The Doctor instead of Rip Hunter but I decided against it.