#anakin has insomnia

[saltyladynightmare]

Jiliu AU 9.2

Beginning, Previous, Next, Masterlist

A/N:

Ori'Ana : mando'a/basic, a mix of Ori'vod, and Anakin, basically naming him Older Brother Anakin, just as the suffix -'ika makes 'younger Brother' from Vod'ika

/italics/ : thoughts, emphasis

bold : talking though the Force, because why not

Chapter 9 is not completely finished, but chapter 10 is an idea. If anyone has any ideas for scenes in which the Vod'e are learning how to use the Force, please feel free to contact me or leave a comment. So far, all of my ideas involve various troopers launching themselves into walls when they jump/run/do something too fast. It gets monotonous after a while.

Warnings:

Anakin is a lonely string bean. He also has no trust in the Jedi, because I was salty when i started writing this, and must stick to my guns. Mentioned mistreatment of the Coruscant Guard.

~~~~~~

Fox commed at 0003. When Anakin accepted the comm, he was unsurprised to find it was only audio. Fox was using the comm built into his helmet; the one with top tier GAR encryptions, assigned to each Clone Commander. Exactly as careful as Anakin had hoped.

"General Skywalker," Fox greeted.

"Commander Fox," Anakin returned easily. If titles were what Fox wanted to use right then, than Anakin had no problems letting him lead the conversation in a direction that would make him most comfortable. "I'll warn you now; this isn't a social comm."

"Your earlier comm conveyed that, sir," Fox assured gruffly.

Oh, good. "I know you're busy, so I'll do my best to keep this brief," Anakin started. "Due to..." whatever in the name of the Force had happened, "...an incident on my last mission, I'm on medical leave for the foreseeable future."

"What?" Ah, there's Ori'vod Fox, as Anakin knew and adored. Never mind that Anakin was a little under nine years older than him. Elder Sibling was a mindset, not a birth order, even if he and Fox had a weird tendency of tossing that particular title back and forth like a live grenade.

"I'm fine," Anakin stated. "I'm not dying, or even lightly maimed. I'm moving around on my own, and I'm not on bed rest." Anakin inhaled to continue, but hesitated. He cursed himself. This is Fox. Anakin can tell him this kind of thing without being judged for more than being a little bit of an idiot. He was pretty sure. But really, even if he was wrong and Fox did judge him, what dignity did Anakin have left? "I'm currently confined to a heavily shielded room in the Healing Halls, because the Force is suddenly excruciatingly loud and my body responds appropriately, but physically okay."

"Appropri—you're saying that your body is acting like its taking sonic damage?"

Anakin grinned. "Yes. Good news is: there is a possible treatment option, but I'm probably not going to see results for a few days if it does actually work." It'd work. Anakin would make sure of it, even it meant hemorrhaging energy into the Force itself. He would not stay in this room for a moment longer than necessary. "In the mean time, I've been confined to a heavily shielded room with limited access to the outside, and a To Do list longer than a venator-class cruiser. I was wondering if the Guard was able or willing to assist my men in getting some of the things on my list completed."

Fox went quiet for several beats. Anakin bit his lip to force himself to remain silent, giving Fox enough time to process.

It didn't take him long. "You'll want Guide," Fox stated.

"If he's willing," Anakin agreed.

Fox concurred, "If he's willing." The crackle of flimsy shuffling fizzed through the admittedly shoddy speakers of Anakin's make-shift comm. "I can arrange for four Vod'e to be available at oh-six hundred today."

"Excellent." Anakin hauled his aching body up onto the chair behind him, and reached for one of the closer, mostly blank datapads. "If you could comm me with the names of the four, I'll wright up instructions to send them."

"Will do."

Nerves rolled in Anakin's gut, but he shoved them away. Fox is reasonable, and if he turns Anakin away, that's on him, he reminded himself. "While we're talking," he started forcefully casual, "does the Guard need anything? We're aiming mostly for medical supplies and food, but I want to introduce Torrent to little bit of everything."

Fox hummed contemplatingly. Anakin tapped a free finger against the datapad. Fox didn't need to think about what the Guard needed; he knew because he was a good Commander. He was staling because, like most competent people who'd been spurned before, Fox was hesitant to ask for anything like assistance.

"Ten crates of food, and three crates of medical supplies," he said eventually.

"No problem." Anakin typed the requests into the 'pad one-handed, making a note to triple that if at all possible, and maybe see about getting them a quick sweet snack they could stash in their utility belts. It was the least he could do.

While he typed this, and Fox filed his mountains of datawork, something pings softly on Fox's side of the comm. A moment later, Fox told Anakin, "Guide has agreed to act as a guide."

Anakin grinned. "Well, that's one thing off my mind. And the other three?"

"Pending."

"Ok." Anakin thought about ending the conversation there with a reminder to comm him when Fox had confirmation. Something in him rebelled at the idea. It wasn't a big deal to stay on the line with Fox, it had been awhile since they had talked. And, if Anakin was honest with himself, he really didn't want to be alone right then anyway. If Fox wants to end the comm, then he can, Anakin decided. Until then, they could sit in silence.

Absently humming to himself, Anakin pulled his To Do lists toward himself, and woke up the one with his personal long term list to add a note to talk to Rex about supporting the Guard the next time Torrent got leave on Coruscant.

The idea was to not only help the Guard so they could actually get a few eight hour sleep cycles in a row if they so chose, but also to ensure Torrent understood the Guard were not data processors, or flimsy pushers.

Not that Anakin had heard Torrent's opinion on the Guard, or if they even had an opinion. Still.

Anakin had heard more than a few troopers' thoughts of them, and it had not been good. Best nip that at the bud, really. Especially when such opinions came from ignorance and misinformation.

"The other three have gotten in contact with me," Fox stated abruptly. Anakin twitched in surprise, before blinking at the comm in his mech hand. Right. He was still on a comm. "They've agreed to provide assistance. Sending their comm codes now."

The comm vibrated in Anakin's hand, metal against metal, signifying an incoming text comm. A quick check shows the new comm code, all helpfully labeled.

"I have them," Anakin tapped the tiny screen with his thumb to save the codes.

"All four of them are currently available, General," Fox stated.

Ah. Time to get to work, it seemed.

"Understood, Fox. I'll leave you to your datawork," Anakin assured the Commander. "Hopefully, I'll see you before I get shipped out again, should everything conclude as expected."

"Yes, sir."

And Fox is done for the day. Commander Fox will keep going because he must, but Vod Fox needed either his allotted five hours of sleep or several cups of kaf before he could produce anything like social skills. Understandable. In his place Anakin would be a walking corpse all the time instead of only in the last six hours of his thirty-two hour shift.

"K'oyacyi, Fox." Anakin hit the button that'd end the call before the exhausted man could reply, hoping against logic the man would get some rest some time soon. Stay alive, Fox, stay alive.

Anakin breathed deep, held it, then let it out slowly as he set the comm on the table top.

Fox was a grown man, he'd live this long, he'd survive a few more days if he had anything at all to say about it; this Anakin knew.

Trusting this was, as always, more difficult than Anakin could say. He did it anyway. He must.

Anakin sighed, and picked up the comm again.

He tapped the screen a few times, calling up the comm codes Fox had sent him, then selected the one that looked the most familiar.

Hopefully, this would be Guide.

The comm rings once, then clicks to signify it had been answered.

"CT-5155."

Anakin smiled at the crisp acknowledgment. "Good morning, Guide. Eat anything interesting recently?"

Guide perked right up. "Ori'Ana!"

"Upani," Anakin returned warmly. "Fox said you had agreed to assist my men in our endeavors?"

"Torrent, right? Yes, I did," Guide affirmed. "Do you have plan for tomorrow, sir?"

"Less plan, more To Do List. If I give you the comm code of the other three volunteers, could you add them to this call?" Anakin smiled sheepishly. "My...device is a little limited."

"No problem!"

In short order, Guide linked in three other Vod'e.

Immediately, in the manner of siblings everywhere disturbed by another particularly daring sibling, they started complaining.

"What in the name of the Force is this supposed to be?" It wasn't until the unspoken threat crackled through the tiny speakers on his comm that Anakin realized exactly who he had on comm.

"A debriefing!" Anakin chirped.

The comm went silent. Then—

"Commender?"

"Sir?"

"Ori'Ana!"

The three Vod'e try to out speak the others, but it was Guide's near demented giggling that won out in the end. Anakin grinned.

"The one and only! It's good to know you three are still among the living," he greeted. "My understanding is that the four of you have volunteered to act as guides for my men as they run errands?"

"We did, sir, although I hadn't known the Favor Commander Fox mentioned was to you," Ka'ahk stated.

Faze, Guide, and who Anakin could only assume to be Slip, Guide's newest not-so-shiny partner after his last one had learned all he could from Guide about the lower levels of Coruscant, named such for his ability slip out of any sort of sticky situation Guide might fling himself, and thus his partner, into, murmured their agreement.

Heh. "Classic Fox move there," Anakin observed. "Now, as I told Guide earlier, I have a To Do list I both need and want completed before I ship out—"

The next few hours are spent going over what, exactly, the four Guardsmen would be helping his men with over the next few days. When they need to sign off to get their scheduled five hours of sleep—and, oh, did he both await and dread the moment Kix caught wind of that little detail— Anakin began messaging and comming his lower level connections to arrange for a drop of disguises that would make the men less obviously clones by midday.

That done, he messaged the four Guard Vod'e with the coordinates of the drop, and the instructions on how to get them. Then, he messaged his Command Staff with the details of what he had done.

Breathing in deep, Anakin forced himself to set his comm down. He checked his To Do lists, and grumbled at finding there really wasn't much more he could do at—he glanced at the clock and cringed—0347 in the morning.

A quick evaluation of himself revealed he was /way/ too wound up to even consider sleeping right then.

Okay, now what?

He plopped his chin on his palm, eyes wondering around the walls the light from his datapad barely touched. He could work on the mousedroid, or stretch some. Except he didn't really want to do either of those things.

So what else—ah. His eyes land on the neat pile of holocrons in the center of the table.

Rex had left him the list of questions he couldn't answer before, right?

He looked at the clock again.

Yeah, he had time.

With a flex of his fingers the holocron on top lifted up and came to hover before him. A twist in the force here, and a press there, and its seals cracked open, allowing greenish white light to escape. It swirled gently, then twisted up and around into a humanoid figure in armor.

Anakin sat back. "Hello, General."

"Greetings, General."

[hanasnx]

fratboy!anakin headcanons

part: 3 | part 1 ⟹ part 2

minors dni 18+

word count: 0.8k | character(s): anakin skywalker x gn!reader

notes: do not give anyone road head it is so dangerous.

warnings: no use of y/n, mention of reader being shorter than anakin, mentions of copping feels, drug use mention (weed, acid, shrooms) and mention of sex on acid, mention of road head, mention of twitter porn links.

☥ If you sound interested in meditating and yoga, he’d ask if you wanted to join him on the basis he’s “really good at it.”

Sits quietly in meditation with a curated playlist of music and lit incense. Cop feels while he directs your body in poses.

He usually does both in the morning to stretch and center himself and get ready for his day, using a daily YouTube video from “Yoga with Adrienne.”

It’s not that you’re bad at it or know the poses by name but when he sees you putting pressure on your knee incorrectly, he comes up behind you real close and moves your body for you. Puts his big hands on your hips and pulls you back into him, and acts all innocent when you call him on it. He knows what he’s doing.

Showering you with compliments. “Lookin’ good, baby, you sure you haven’t done this before?”

and “I see you closing up here. lemme relax you.” beginning to massage your thighs, sliding up to your ass— as if it isn’t intimate enough already.

There’s a part of you that wants to keep dangling yourself out of his reach. “Ani, I don’t think we should be doing this.”

When he speaks, his lips murmur against the back of your head, warm breath washing over your neck. “It’s okay, it’s just yoga; you’re so tense.”

☥ He doesn’t sleep much. Nightmares aren’t an uncommon occurrence, but he suffers from a case of insomnia for a number of other reasons. So his time is spent doing other things. He has the graveyard shift at his job which tires him out enough for an hour or two long power nap until he can get to class or the gym or hockey practice.

☥ Extremely disciplined despite your preconceived notions. He sticks to a schedule: a healthy diet; takes his job seriously (even if he believes he’s the best person there and should move on to better things); committing to hockey and its demands; and has a brain that processes things like homework in a record time you’re envious of.

☥ Does smoke weed occasionally for “spirituality.” He’s done acid and shrooms for the same reason. All three being low on the risk factor of drug use, which is one of the reasons he was comfortable trying them out.

He wants to take a tab with you and fuck. All of your senses heightened, and inhibitions lowered. It’s mind-blowing. He wants to blow your mind and your back out.

☥ Has gotten road head from you before. It only made him drive faster.

☥ Plays Minecraft with you and you have a server together. (Named after your ship name. He doesn’t tell you that.)

☥ Movie nights where you swap your favorites. You show him Pride and Prejudice (2005) and he shows you Tron: Legacy (2010).

☥ Sends you Twitter porn links captioned; “us💕”

[jedi-enthusiast]

I haven't made a post in a while, so here's my think piece on why the "Anakin was sleep deprived and thought Padme was going to die" excuse for his actions in ROTS is bullshit, since I feel like tossing my two-cents into the conversation.

----------

I have really bad anxiety and, when I am without my medication, that anxiety turns to extreme paranoia. I am also in a near-constant state of minor sleep-depravation, since I suffer from insomnia, but when my paranoia kicks in, I will go days on end with little to no sleep.

Some backstory, so that all of you understand exactly how and why my anxiety when it comes to death/sleep is so severe:

I had cancer a couple of years ago- (about three I think, but my memory from that time is very foggy) -and, during that time I suffered from something called Methotrexate Toxicity, which is when chemo leaks into your brain---or, at least, that's how the doctors explained it to me.

In short, I went to sleep one night and woke up paralyzed, and for a week I was certain that I was going to die.

I'm better and am no longer paralyzed, but now when my paranoia kicks in I become convinced that---if I go to sleep---I'm going to either die in my sleep or wake up paralyzed again and then die. Depending on how severe the paranoia is, sometimes I also become convinced that my mom and dad will die as well if I sleep, usually in a car crash---since my dad has almost died in a car crash twice.

I become physically unable to sleep because I am so terrified of doing so.

Now Anakin, as he's portrayed in Lucas canon, has no such issues---he only suffers from occasional nightmares, not the sleep depravation/paranoia combo that I suffer from. I'm sure we can all agree on which is worse.

Even if he did suffer from the same issues, though, it still doesn't excuse his actions.

I have had times where I've been up for almost 3 days, running off of 3-4 hours of sleep and convinced that the moment I fall asleep I'll stop breathing, and still I have never thought of harming other people. Mass murder, genocide, whatever! None of it has ever seemed acceptable to me, even during my worst spirals.

So I don't give a fuck whether Anakin was sleep deprived or running on fumes or what, he's still responsible for his actions!

[daughterofthequeen]

Things Aren’t Always What They Seem and Sometimes They Are

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x padawan!reader

Summary: You’re Anakin’s padawan and after your master has a close call you develop nightmares of his death. Every time you close your eyes you see it, so you decided staying awake is the best way to keep your mind at ease and keep your master safe.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, platonic relationship, crying, nightmares, reader uses she/her pronouns, small mention of blood, reader has at least shoulder length hair, description of throwing up, description of death, light description of head being cut off, detailing insomnia, I made my own cw battle, I think that’s it let me know if I missed anything

A/N: I just needed this. Either Anakin can be used, but both Anakin’s are the same to me. Also readers nickname is stub btw due to her stubborn nature(gimme Ik). In this storyline Ahsoka is Kenobi’s padawan, but Anakin still uses Snips for Ahsoka since they’re still always around each other due to Ahsoka being readers best friend and Kenobi also always being around. This is also longer than I planned, sorry.

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

This is not happening. This is not happening! It’s impossible, he’s survived far worse than this, right? A building exploding with him still inside it was a piece of cake when it came to my master. So why isn’t he answering his comm, and why can’t I feel him?! His force signature is gone!

He’s dead.

That’s why I can’t feel him. Everything around me was basically nonexistent to me, all I could focus on was the rubble in front of me that had my master trapped. He couldn’t be dead, he just couldn’t be, and I refuse to believe that he is. I wanted to go search for him, to help get him out of there because he needs me, but I couldn’t move and all I could hear was my heart beating loudly in my ears. Until a louder noise snapped me out of it.

“COMMANDER!!!” Rex yelled as he grasped me by my shoulders and was roughly shaking me, which snapped me out of my shock. “Commander the tank lifters are here to remove the debris.”

“Hurry, Rex.” After Rex leaves to go give the orders I turn back to the rubble as I tried to dig deeper into the force to try and sense my master’s force signature. I came up empty handed until I felt a pull towards the other side of the destroyed building. I followed it until I heard a voice. Dooku. I know that slimy voice from anywhere. I hurriedly hid behind a large rock, that I could tell used to be a wall, as I listened to Dooku’s conversation.

“And you’ve found nothing?” Dooku voiced to a battle droid.

“Nothing. We’ve looked everywhere.”

“Hmm” Dooku wasn’t so sure, Skywalker wasn’t easily terminated, how ironic it would be for him to be taken out by a simple explosion. He closed his eyes to focus on any life signature, but the only ones he found were weak and they were all similar in some way, confirming they were just feeble clones. And he was about to call this a success until he felt a stronger force signature, and it wasn’t under the rubble, definitely a Jedi. Dooku opened his eyes and looked to his right, looking straight at the stone you were hiding behind, but before he could act his holoprojector went off. “Yes master?”

“Return to your castle, I have more important matters for you to tend to.” A blue tented hooded figure spoke.“Now.” The hooded figure quickly added sensing the hesitation his apprentice gave off.

“Yes, master.” The holoprojector cut off and Dooku called for all the battle droids to fall back, and they left taking their victory. And their victory? The termination of Anakin Skywalker.

I quickly ducked behind the destroyed wall before Dooku could see me, even though I was certain he could feel me. But to my luck he was called away, I waited for the last separatist ship to fly away and that’s when I left my hiding spot. I started looking around the same area Dooku was to try to find any sign of my master, but there was none. A sickly feeling washed over me, I was close to letting the breakfast I had this morning back up, but was able to keep it down. Though I couldn’t stop my eyes from welling up with tears.

“Master?” I whispered fearfully, my voice not able to speak any louder without cracking.

“Master.” I said a little louder, as the tears started rolling over at this point.

“MASTER! WHERE ARE YOU??!!!” I finally screamed, the tears are now unstoppable and so were the sobs. The cries broke free. I was sobbing uncontrollably, and soon found that my legs were not able to hold my weight anymore as I dropped to my knees. The pain from the rubble that was made up of stone and metal went unnoticed. Bracing my hands against the ground to keep myself up and grounded as much as I could. I started pleading to the force to give Anakin a few more strings of luck, so he could make it out of this alive. So caught up in my own pain, I didn’t even hear the stones moving to my far left, let alone the foot steps.

After Anakin no longer felt Dooku’s presence and when he was sure he wasn’t coming back he used the force to move the destroyed stones that were surrounding him and some of his troops away from them. And they started climbing their way out from the rubble. After he made it out and helped some of his men out as well he looked around making sure there was no danger as he was catching his breath. When he looked to his right, he spotted his padawan. His padawan who‘s supposed to be on the other side of the explosion sight. What is she doing here?! Dooku and his droids could’ve seen her and he wouldn’t of been able to get out from under the rubble in time. It’s like she does the complete opposite of what he says, to stress him out on purpose. He sighed and started his walk over to his padawan, and when he did he seen and heard the predicament she was in. She was crying? Why is she crying? He wondered if she was injured. She was clutching her hands to her chest, which made him worry even more. He hurried to her side, and as he dropped down next to her, he grasped her shoulders, turning her towards him to look her over.

“What is it? Where are you hurt?” Anakin’s heart was racing at this point as he panicked. All he knew is he needed to help her, but his padawan on the other hand had a different reaction upon seeing him. Regardless of his efforts to get her up she wasn’t moving, and she heard nothing he was saying. All she could do was stare. Her master was alive? How? His force signature was gone and that only means one thing. Death. So how was it her master was kneeling in front of her trying to make sure she was okay? For the second time that day she had to be shook harshly to snap her out of her shock. But it still did no good to help her understand what was going on.

“(Y/n)! What’s wrong?” Silence.

“(Y/n), talk to me!”

“Master?” Was all that she could whisper out.

“Where are you hurt? I can’t help if you don’t tell me.

“You’re alive.”

“Wha-? Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“The building- I mean you were still inside. Your signature was gone.” Having to explain what she thought happened only brought the tears back, unable to stomach the loss of her master, someone who’s like a father to her, and the closest she would get to having one. The thought of losing him was unbearable, and not to mention against the Jedi code. Attachment was forbidden, and she knew her attachment to Anakin was way more than it should be. She threw herself into him, much to Anakin’s shock. Her face buried in his neck, with her arms wrapped around it as well, as she let the rest of her tears out.

Anakin’s heart broke at the sound of her sobs, they sounded so broken. The original plan was to plant the bombs and get out of there which you were able to do successfully and get to the extraction point unscathed, but the separatists knew about their plan and next thing he knew hundreds of battle droids blocked them in. He was able to keep the ceiling from crushing him and his men around him, and was able to cloak his signature from Dooku. And that meant from everyone else as well, so he could see how that might have scared you. Wrapping his arms around his padawan, he made sure to keep a firm comforting grip, letting her know that he was here and not going anywhere. She cried harder at his promise, she could feel it, he was telling the truth.

𝟺 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛:

It’s been 4 months since the incident, 4 months since I believed my master was dead, 4 months since I’ve had a good nights rest. Ever since the Battle of Aravion I haven’t been able to sleep. Every time I close my eyes my darkest fears come to life. So I do my best to stay awake as long as I can. Some would say that’s unhealthy or dangerous with me fighting in a war and all, but I’m doing fine . . . .mostly.

“Hellooo, Coruscant to Stubs.” I hear my master say as he comes into my line of sight, snapping his fingers in front of my face which I turns snaps me out of my daydream. “You with me?”

“Sorry, Master. What were you saying?” Shaking my head to clear and focus my thoughts.

“I said if you don’t focus you’re going to get stunned, and I’m sure you don’t want that to happen, right?”

“No, master. I’m sorry, master.”

“Sorry?” Anakin mumbled to himself, you never say sorry to anyone even when you are, unless it’s in front of the council or something, you show your apologies more so with actions, not words. And there’s usually a snappy comeback by now. What’s going on with you?

“It’s fine, what’s on your mind?”

“Nothing.” I’ve might’ve said that a little too quickly. Oops.

“Stub, I know you. What’s wrong?” Anakin knows how to get me to crack. It’s just something about his soft voice that makes me feel like he could fix whatever’s going on with me. No matter how big or small. But not this time, my problems will go away on their own. I just hadn’t got the incident through my system is all. After all, part of becoming a Jedi is being able to let go of your personal feelings, and that’s not something that you can’t rely on people for, it’s a matter of you.

“There’s nothing wrong, I was just wondering when our next mission would be. We never stay here at the temple for very long. I guess I’m just a little anxious.”

“Yeah, I was like that too at the beginning of the war, but I just learned to relax whenever I’m given a peaceful moment. It keeps your head clear and it helps keep you balance.”

“I will try.” I took a deep breath as I turned away from my master and walked back to the where the 501 boys were waiting. I got into my starting position, lighting my lightsabers. I had to focus, that was the only way to get Anakin to believe me, so I had to last my usual time or he would know something was definitely up. I gave Rex a nod, letting him know that I was ready. He gave the signal, and for the next three minutes it was going well. Until I was hit in the back, then everything went dark.

BOOM!!!

I groan as I sit myself up. I must’ve been stunned about 5 or 6 times, my body isn’t usually this stiff after waking up due to growing a tolerance. But wait a minute. Stun shots don’t sound like explosions. I quickly stood up to scan my surroundings only to see I was in the middle of a battle field. I must’ve been hit with a blaster shot, but I didn’t feel any pain besides the stiffness. How did we get onto a battle field, we were just in a training room a few minutes ago.

BOOM!!!

I turned towards the front and could see nothing but fog. I lit my saber and started deflecting the blast that were coming my way. Maybe they couldn’t wait on me to wake up. What was the mission again? Wait. My master would never leave me behind, regardless of the mission, unless it was safer somehow. So where is he? I looked around again and heard a groan this time. I turned to my right to see a trooper. I quickly ran to help in any way I could.

“Trooper! Are you ok?!”

“I’m fine as I can be commander.” He groans.

“What battle is this? What was the mission?”

He coughs harshly. So harsh blood comes up. “The plan was to blow the factory. Groan. I suspect the others have made it there already.” He cuts himself off due to coughing more.

“Help will be here soon trooper stay awake.” I tried comforting him as I squeezed his hand. Trying to keep my emotions at bay.

“They knew we were coming. Gasp. We didn’t stand a chance. But you insisted we go on with the plan. General Skywalker agreed, trusting your judgment. Gasp. Half of us were wiped out. You walked us to our death.” All of a sudden the comms in his helmet we’re getting louder. I heard the screams of the troopers in pain. The yells of orders being thrown out by Rex. The explosion that seemed closer than it should’ve been in the comm, like it was right next to that poor trooper that was unlucky enough to get hit. I back down towards the trooper I was comforting only to see he was deadly still. And I knew he was. His eyes were staring straight up towards the sky. Like he embraced the call of death on his life. I heard the sobs and even looked around to see where they were coming from, but they were coming from me. I did this, all this was my fault. This was my mission, the troops were following my orders, I lead them to their deaths knowing it was a trap to begin with. I hurriedly stood up and started running forward. I moves as fast as I could until I could see the building and could hear the explosions more clear. I ran until I got to the front of the lines using my saber to block incoming blasts, and thankfully as always Rex was there.

“Rex!”

“Commander, you’re alright!”

“Yes. Where’s General Skywalker?!” I had to yell for him to be able to hear me over the sounds of battle.

“He went to set the bombs, he should be back by now.”

“I’ll go help!” But I was stopped, a hand gripping my arm.

“The bombs are about to detonate any second!”

“Anakin is still in there!”

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t let you go in!” After that statement the building collapsed in a fiery blaze. We were far enough away to feel nothing but the strong wind the explosion put off.

“Rex, hurry and get the tank lifters here. I’m going to find Anakin.” And I took off regardless of Rex’s yells. I made it to the blast sight, but upon arrival Dooku and his mindless droids were there. I hid behind a large rock when I was struck with a hard case of deja vu. This has happened before, maybe the first time was just a vision. The force letting me know everything was going to be ok. I peaked around the corner seeing Dooku talking through a holoprojector to a cloaked figure. After their conversation ended, Dooku ordered all the droids to load up and evacuate. After he left I ran to where I was last time waiting for my master to unmask his signature. When he did I hurried to that area and helped with moving the debris that was around them. After getting him and the troops out safely I walked to my master to check and see if he was ok.

“Master, how are you feeling?” I was a lot calmer then last time, a little too calm. But he’s fine maybe for once things will actually go our way.

“I feel fine, but where were you stubs. We could’ve used your help.” He was out of breath, but still managed to be sarcastic. He was fine. I let out a light laugh.

“Come on master, let’s get you back to the transports so we can get you checked for any brain damage. Well, more than usual.” I smirk and turned to walk off, but felt he wasn’t following, so I turned only to see him standing really stiff.

“Master, what’s wrong?” I was so close to him. My hands were on his shoulders just in case he might fall. Suddenly, a red light pierced through my masters chest and would’ve passed through the top of my head if I hadn’t of moved just in time. Only to realize it wasn’t just a light, it was a lightsaber!

“NO!!!”

As my master dropped to the ground Dooku was standing right there over him. The color of his lightsaber reflecting on his wrinkled face. I paid him no attention though, I ran to my master hoping by some miracle he was still breathing. I lifted him up and moved myself behind him, so he could lean on me, hoping it would give him some kind of comfort. But maybe it was just to comfort myself.

“Master! Master, get up! Get up!” I was trying to pull him up, help him stand, so we could get out of here, but the only response my master gave was falling to the side, hitting the ground. “No! Master, get up. No, no, no, no. Let’s go. Please, let’s go.” Rows of heavy tears rolled down my closed eyes as I was sitting on my knees praying that this wouldn’t be true. I grabbed my masters ungloved hand, still warm though it has only been a couple minutes since it happened. It felt like hours. Dooku didn’t even have the courage to give my master a fighting chance. What coward stabs someone in the back, and calls it a honorable victory. Falling forward, I hugged my masters dead body as I sobbed so loud the stars could hear me across galaxies. My voice coming out in squeaks as I try to tell him how sorry I am, how sorry I was of failing him, how I didn’t see Dooku coming, hoping he would believe me, or at least hear me in the afterlife.

“Feeble child.” Hearing his voice only made me angry. I gripped my sabers and ignited them, quickly turning around striking Dooku down where he stood. And of course he was able to keep himself up, all he did was drop to his knees. But what I planned next no one could walk away from. I slowly stood, and walked towards him tauntingly, I wanted him to know what was coming. Before he could even attempt at grabbing his saber, I made sure to cut through his useless hands. I then lifted my sabers, crossing them at his neck as I looked him in the eyes, pulling my sabers apart. The body dropped and I watched as the severed ball rolled in the opposite direction. I looked down and seen a red lightsaber, but it wasn’t Dooku’s. I looked over to my other saber seeing that they were identical. The red I was seeing was coming from my lightsabers, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. And unbeknownst to me, my eyes reflected the damage I’ve done as well. A piercing yellow with red rimings, the eyes of a sith.

I gasped as I quickly sat up, looking around. I was able to slow my heart enough and calm my raging brain to notice I was in my room. How’d I get here? Was everything that just happened a dream? There’s was only one way to find out, find Anakin. Fearfully, I got up and walked out of my room, cautiously but quickly searching for my master, too riled and unfocused to use the force. I walked straight across the hallway to his quarters and knocked. It went unanswered, taking it upon myself to open the door, only to find he wasn’t there. Everything left untouched his messy bed from yesterday still in the same state it was, saying he’ll fix it later. I took off to the training room, still nothing. Then to the cafeteria. Nothing. At this point I was starting to worry. I didn’t want the grand masters to see me like this knowing they would sense my fear and unease, but this was Anakin, I’ll risk it. I went to the council room, also empty. This sickly feeling washed over me, and I ran to the closest bathroom. Passing Obi-Wan and Anakin padawan in the process.

“Stub?”

“I thought you said she was resting?” Obi-Wan crossed his arms at his former padawan’s ability to keep up with his own padawan.

“She was. Why is she up this late?” He mumbled, his confused frown deepening as well. Even if she was up, why was she running through the halls? Either her and Ahsoka were sneaking around in the pantries again or something was wrong. Without so much as a warning to Obi-Wan, Anakin took off to follow his padawan. He caught up to her only to see her burst into the women’s restroom.

“She had to use the bathroom.” Obi-Wan stated the obvious.

“Why not just use the one in her room? I think somethings wrong master. She’s been acting strange lately.”

“Anakin, your padawan is your responsibility. You should know why she’s been acting differently.” He scolds.

“I know that, Master. But-”

“But what?”

“She usually comes to me when she’s ready, so I don’t push it.”

“Anything could be going on with her Anakin, whether she wants to or not it’s your job to find out what’s causing her trouble.”

“That’ll just push her further away. I know Stubs, if I push to hard it’ll just delay the progress of her telling me. I know because I’m the same way.”

“You’ve never been that way with me.”

“That’s because I knew you years before I even became your padawan. Stubs and I are only a year in.”

“And you both are already so much alike that you would think the two of you share the same brain.” Anakin rolled his eyes at his masters comment and walked up to the women’s bathroom door, but when he did he could sense waves of fear going through you. He almost walked into the room, turning towards Obi-Wan seeing if he would stop him. It’s not like anyone else was in there, they only felt her.

“I’ll keep watch to make sure nobody else goes in. Go.” Anakin nods, closing his eyes as he walked into the bathroom just in case you were actually using it.

“Stub?” He calls out softly, his voice echoing throughout the walls. His only reply though was the sound of soft gagging. “Stubs?!” He called again this time his eyes are open as he ran and found the stall you were in. It wasn’t even locked. He found you on your knees, head above the toilet dry heaving into it, while also trying to catch your breath. He went to get some paper towels from the dispenser, wet them, then came back to keep your hair out of your face. Once he was sure you were done, he knelt down in front of you and turned you towards him, brushing your hair behind your ears to keep it out the way and started cleaning your face. He was worried, yes, but he knew you didn’t needed him playing 20 questions right now.

“Can you stand?” He spoked as softly as he could.

The whole time you didn’t know who was helping you, you barely noticed someone was there helping you at all. But when your eyes focused as you looked up, a small gasp came from you.

“Master.” A sense of deja vu washed over him.

“Are you able to get up?” He started to panic because tears started rolling over your cheeks. He was about to ask what was wrong but your body slamming into his stopped him, again. Confused? Way more than he was before. Worried? Even more so. Anakin maneuvered you so he was able to pick you up, and carry you out of the bathroom, simultaneously throwing away the paper towels. The door opened and he came face to face with Obi-Wan. Who only gave him a ‘take my advice’ kind of look. Receiving a tired sigh from Anakin.

“I know. I’ll see you tomorrow Master. Good night.” To which Kenobi responded back with a good night of his own.

He made his way back to your room as he constantly looked down at you to check and make sure you were ok. Your eyes were barley open, you looked exhausted, as your head laid in his chest. You should be, he wondered how long it was going to take you to break after not sleeping for months. He was hoping his heartbeat would’ve put you to sleep by now. He knew you thought you were keeping it a well kept secret. That’s the whole reason you both haven’t been on a mission yet, he asked the council to give the both of you a few days off, refusing to let you put yourself in anymore unnecessary danger. He was surprised the council agreed, chalking it up to Obi-Wan putting in a word for him. He could’ve just banned you from coming on missions until you told him what was wrong, but that would’ve just made you retreat and hide your restlessness better. This was the best choice. Making it to your room, the door slid open, and he gently laid you down on your bed. He was about to let you rest and get to the bottom of this in the morning, but your hand quickly grabbed his, keeping him from leaving.

“Don’t go.” You whimpered, breaking his heart of what felt like the thousandth time that night. He complied and released a heavy sigh.

“You have to tell me what’s going on with you Stubs. I’ve given you enough time to figure this all out and tell me what’s going on, but this has gone to far.” He kept his voice low to let her know he wasn’t upset with her just worried. You sat up regardless of him trying to lay you back down but true to your nickname, you’re just stubborn. He stayed where he was kneeling in front of you, letting you have the height of the conversation, physically and metaphorically.

I couldn’t look him in the eye knowing that I would start crying again.

“I just had a bad dream, that’s all.” Trying to play it off as nothing.

“Yeah. One among the many for the past few months, right?” That caused me to lift my head involuntarily. How did he know?

“How-“

“Look Stubs, I understand what it’s like to have constant nightmares, ok? I just don’t understand why you won’t tell me about them.” He chuckled, an unamused one with a confused frown on his face.

Looking back down towards my bare feet, trying to keep the tears at bay. But failing at that too, a breathless sob breaks out.

“I just- I just don’t understand why they keep coming back! I mean I’m starting to think-” I cut myself off not wanting to speak into existence. Instead, I shoved my face into my hands. I’m not sure I can keep going with these nightmares, they keep getting worse.

“You’re starting to the think they’re visions.” To which I nodded to. “Are they the same dream or is it a different one every time?”

“It’s a different one ever time, but they always have the same outcome. You said you’ve had nightmares before. How did you stop them?

“Tell you what, if I tell you about my dreams, will you feel comfortable enough to tell me about yours?” Anakin didn’t like sharing his past with anybody, but for the sake of getting his padawan to trust him completely, he would do anything. You gave him a nod, to which he nodded back.

“It wasn’t that long ago actually. It was around the very beginning of the clone wars. They were about my mother.”

“Master-“

“And how she died. I didn’t understand it at the time, but they weren’t nightmares. They were visions.”

“I’m sorry, master.”

“I’m not telling you this so you could feel sorry for me. I told you so you would understand when things like this happen you should talk about it to someone not hold it in, because one day you might be able to save a life.”

“But if it is a vision. . .I fail.”

“Not all visions are set in stone. And they can be almost impossible to understand by yourself.” As he explains he reaches out to gently grab her hands giving them a gentle squeeze.

“They’re about you.” Going back to looking down at my feet.

“What about me?”

“You die. And I’m always to slow to save you.” Looking up to see his expression, he doesn’t look scared if anything he looks amused. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask confused.

“Is it ok if I see it?”

“How can you do that?”

“Easy. Hold still.” After he says that his hands move to the side of my head, our eyes closed , and our foreheads laying on one another’s as he searches for the memories. When he finds them they suck him in deep, so deep he has to take a deep breath to keep himself grounded. Your fear, your pain, your anger. But right before he pulled away, he was able to see where they all started. Guilt flooded through him. He didn’t realize how much he scared you. He pulled away and moved to sit next to you on the bed. He paused for a moment trying to figure out the best way to reassure you.

“Listen, Stubs. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m sorry I frightened you. Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I was afraid. Everything I was feeling, everything I am feeling is forbidden for a Jedi to feel. And I didn’t want you to look at me any different.” I replied, looking the opposite way shamefully.

“Stub. I am the last person to judge you. I have your back, just like I’m sure you have mine. Whatever I can do to help you, I will do. But I can promise you, I’m not going anywhere. And you don’t have to be scared of that happening anytime soon, or at all for that matter. Understand?”

“Yes, master.” Not giving him time to reply. I threw myself into his side, wrapping my arms tightly around him. He returned the gesture, pulling me into him even more.

“Bed time.” He pulled away, lightly pushing me to lay down, and pulled the blanket over me.

“Master? When’s our next mission?”

“We don’t have any, and we won’t until you’re well rested.”

“Huh?”

“Oh yeah, you don’t know. We won’t be completing any assignments for a while. I requested to take some time off, due to my padawan deciding it’s ok to go into battles with little to no sleep.” He smirked knowingly.

“You knew.”

“Of course I did. Now get some sleep, please.” He replied as he turned to leave.

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

His playful smirked turned into a soft smile. “Good night, Stubs.”

“Good night, master.” I responded as I laid down already half asleep, ready to catch up on all the months that were missed.

A/N: The longest fic I’ve completed, but it had to be done🫡. Proofread, just let me know if I missed an error, I hope you guys enjooyyy.

[samstree]

Secret Ingredient

(obikin hurt/comfort, obi-wan makes pancakes, also on AO3)

The bruises look a lot worse in daylight.

The purple and green span across Anakin’s cheek, reaching the small cut at the corner of his lips. Lesions are all over his throat in the shape of fingers, with more hidden under the collar of his tunics. The half-healed wounds don’t just stop there—four weeks of being captive is enough to accumulate injuries to fill an entire page of the healer’s report. Under Anakin’s clothes, his chest is bound in bandages for the broken ribs, right above the electrical burns, now covered in fresh bacta patches. The separatists are getting creative with their torture devices, lately.

Obi-Wan goes through the list of Anakin’s wounds in his head, calculating which ones need to be redressed on what day. The Coruscanti sun casts long shadows, barely hiding the dark circles under Anakin’s eyes.

Obi-Wan aches to kiss, to soothe until Anakin can sleep them away, finally finding some rest after the month’s ordeal. But there’s more work to be done—the torturers did not pay much attention to feeding their captive. Anakin’ cheeks have sunken, the nightshirt hanging off his thinned shoulders. The constant lack of food has weakened his stomach to the point that he can barely keep anything down. For fear of throwing up yet another meal, what he needs right now is something simple, comforting, but also provides plenty of nourishment.

So, Obi-Wan is making his special pancakes.

They may be his best work yet. After all, those special pancakes were Anakin’s favorite food when he was a child. Obi-Wan still remembers a nine-year-old Anakin, malnourished and underweight when he first came to the temple. Master Che had to prescribe different nutritious powders to go along with his meals, but all Obi-Wan knew was to make them into a porridge. The boy could never swallow more than a third of what he needed.

And then, he had the brilliant idea of making them into pancakes.

The batter is the perfect medium to hide all the supplements. Obi-Wan still remembers the quiet smile Anakin gave him at every breakfast, right after finishing everything on his plate. Obi-Wan kept making them until the healers finally declared his padawan to be an appropriate weight and height for his age.

Now, more than a decade later, it’s time for Obi-Wan to use an old trick again.

Even though it’s early morning, Anakin is exhausted enough from insomnia and pain that he doesn’t notice the supplements being added to the sweet pancake mix. He only waits by the kitchen counter as Obi-Wan works, expression distracted and tired, attention splintered all over the place.

Anticipation rises in Obi-Wan’s chest as the kitchen is filled with the smell of warm, buttery pancakes, almost making him giddy with pride. He hides it well though, under a calm, nonchalant exterior.

“Here. Try this,” Obi-Wan says softly, flipping the last pancake into the plate and drizzling with syrup, before pushing it across the kitchen counter.

“Hmm?” Anakin blinks, just brought out of a stupor, looking down to notice the stack of warm pancakes. “Oh.”

“Your stomach is still weak, so I’m only giving you a small portion. Hopefully, some pancakes will go down better than the standard-issued rations from the Halls of the Healing.” Obi-Wan smiles. “I remember it’s your favorite.”

There has been a haunted look in Anakin’s eyes since the rescue, one that is hard to shake. But upon meeting Obi-Wan’s eyes and seeing his smile, part of that look melts away, giving way to the warmth in those blue eyes.

“My favorite, huh? Let’s see if it’s still the case.” He pokes a small corner off the stack and lifts the fork, an eyebrow raised while putting the pancakes in his mouth. The following pause has Obi-Wan’s heart beating in his throat, hope fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

“How is it?” he asks, unable to hide the curiosity any longer as Anakin chews slowly, carefully, as if he needs to channel all the energy he has just to eat. “Well, not to rush you. I know you’ve been having trouble keeping food down, and eating too fast won’t help. I just thought—it’s your favorite, after all. If anything, you could use something comforting, and there’s nothing more comforting than pancakes. I haven’t made them for years. Hopefully, it still tastes the same? If not, I can always make something else. Something you’re missing in the field, perhaps Franikhad—oh, but that’s too spicy for your stomach. There’s nothing like pancakes, truly. So… how is it?”

Obi-Wan knows he’s droning on again, as Anakin was so inclined to call it in his teenage years, but truth be told, he’s too nervous not to.

Watching Anakin struggle to recover has been one of the hardest things in this entire ordeal. They’ve got Anakin back now; he should be getting better, not barely healing because his body doesn’t have enough strength. Cooking is about the only thing Obi-Wan can do to help, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself if he fails even that.

He just… he can’t fail again.

Anakin swallows the bite, licks the syrup on his lower lip. By some miracle, he smiles. It’s a small and quiet thing, but it’s there. Obi-Wan thinks he could be soaring.

“It’s good, master,” he answers. “Tastes exactly like I remember.”

“Yeah?” A weight lifts off of Obi-Wan’s chest. “It’s truly the same?”

“Of course, even the powders are there.”

Obi-Wan pauses, blinking as Anakin takes another bite, making a pleased hum.

“Whatever do you mean?” It’s possible that the kitchen has become very warm from all the cooking. Obi-Wan feels his cheeks heat up. “What powders?”

The syrup coats the fork, so Anakin licks it clean. When he looks up again, a glint of mischief flashes across his eyes.

“Oh come on. Do you think I couldn’t tell? The nutrition powders they prescribed for me when I was still your padawan? The porridge you made was awful, and then the pancakes tasted exactly the same. You weren’t subtle, master. There must have been more supplements than flour in my meal. I noticed right away, of course.”

The pancakes are disappearing steadily from Anakin’s plate, picked apart and dipped in the syrup. Suddenly, they don’t seem like the best idea in the world anymore.

“And you never said anything? Anakin…” Obi-Wan’s heart constricts. “I only wanted you to eat something healthy because you were so malnourished as a child, and I didn’t want to force you. Force knows you had gone through enough already.” He meets Anakin’s eyes, half pleading and half heartbroken for the small boy that he used to be. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have tried something else.”

Guilt creeps into his chest, in place of the relief he was feeling mere moments ago. Anakin only stares, eyes big and impossibly soft.

“Well, it made you happy,” he answers, as if that is the simplest logic in the world. “So I didn’t mind.”

“Anakin…”

“Has it occurred to you that you were also going through a lot?” Anakin now drops his eyes, having stopped eating. “You had only lost your master, and immediately took on a padawan yourself. Every day you fussed over nutrition and proteins. My meals, my lessons, my health. But you…” he trails off in a whisper. “You were just…sad. All the time.”

“I didn’t know you could tell.”

“I can always tell.”

Obi-Wan opens his mouth and closes it. His fame as the Negotiator is nothing when it’s just him and Anakin. Clever quips and quick thinking are his weapons when the saber is out of reach, but here, he doesn’t need to fight.

“So you just lied? For years?” Obi-Wan asks, after a moment. “Putting up with your old master’s horrible cooking just to spare his feelings?”

“Not the part about pancakes being my favorite though. That is true.” When Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow in question, Anakin continues, “I saw you smile, when I ate all the pancakes. That was the first time you smiled since I became your padawan. It was so beautiful I just decided that I wanted to keep seeing it. And the pancakes were the way to go, obviously. Oh, and—” He laughs to himself quietly, looking entirely too young despite the bruises blossoming across his cheeks. Entirely too young for this wretched war. “—Do you remember the day I was finally, finally, taller than you?”

“You mean when you mercilessly rubbed it in my face.” Obi-Wan cannot hide a laugh himself. “The worst day of my life. It’s not one to forget.”

“You are joking, but do you remember I also stopped mercilessly rubbing it in your face very quickly?”

“Oh? Doesn’t sound like you.”

Anakin tilts his head, a strand of curls falling into his eyes, too endearing for Obi-Wan’s heart to handle.

“You were so proud when you realized,” he says softly. “You looked at me, barely half an inch taller than you, and the Force was singing with pride. I couldn’t keep making fun of you, you see. My old master looked like he was about to cry.”

The lump in Obi-Wan’s throat is simply a reaction to the fond memories. He is not about to cry now.

“I thought I did a half-decent job, when you grew up okay. I only wanted you to—” he swallows, the words difficult to get out. “I—forgive me—”

Obi-Wan looks away to give the turmoil of emotions in his chest to the Force. Fear, guilt, anxiety… they leave with another exhale. He lets go of everything except for love. Only love remains, wrapping around him like the bright Force signature that melds into his own.

Anakin looks at him all-knowingly, with mirth by his lips.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, darling?”

The Force sings with pride again when Anakin straightens his back, puts down his fork, one arm stretched out as an invitation. “Come over here.”

“And why should I come over there?”

“Because you,” Anakin declares with all the conviction in the galaxy, “look like you need a hug.”

“Do I now?” Obi-Wan only thinks of denying it for a split second before rounding the kitchen counter and meeting Anakin’s embrace carefully, gathering him up with a feather-light touch. He maps out all the injuries mentally, hyper-aware of where his hands travel and soothe. Something within him shifts, settles into place, when Anakin is held between his arms. “Hmm, perhaps I do. My young padawan has become wise.”

“Only sometimes,” Anakin huffs.

The way he hugs Obi-Wan back is far less careful, pressing their bodies together. With Anakinsat on the kitchen stool, they are at the perfect height for him to fit right under Obi-Wan’s chin. He squeezes Obi-Wan’s middle, as if to burrow farther into the hug, as if they have not melded into one a long time ago.

He presses a kiss on Anakin’s head, hiding a content smile in his hair.

“Ow.” Anakin hisses in pain.

Obi-Wan pulls away immediately. “Am I hurting you?”

A pause, and a sheepish look. “…No?”

“Anakin!”

A boyish grin blooms across Anakin’s face. He leans forward to wrap both arms around Obi-Wan’s waist, half to pull him close, half for support. “Can you blame me? You were smiling. You haven’t since I got back.”

“And you are eating something, finally.”

“Must be the pancakes,” Anakin adds cheekily, “with your secret ingredient.”

The corner of Anakin’s mouth is still swollen and dark with a bruise, but he leans into Obi-Wan’s touch. Eyes closed, he lets his weight slump against Obi-Wan’s support and nuzzles into his chest.

He’s holding the most precious thing in his life, Obi-Wan realizes. Right under his palms, trusting and pliant. Even injured, Anakin is still trying to make him smile, and he is. The smile stays on Obi-Wan’s face, making him feel lighter and younger than he has any right to be.

“And now you feel like you need a kiss,” Anakin whispers against his tunics. “You get all quiet and shimmering in the Force when you do.”

“What will you do about that?”

Their breaths mingle when Obi-Wan lowers his head to meet Anakin. The kiss is barely there when both of them are smiling into it, tender and slow, mindful of the healing wound by Anakin’s mouth. Obi-Wan pecks him on the nose one last time before pulling back.

“You should try to eat a little bit more,” he reminds Anakin, pushing the plate closer. “Just a little, and we’ll rest. We’ve both earned it, I believe.”

“Of course,” Anakin answers, the quiet shimmers mirrored back in his Force signature. “They are your special pancakes, after all.”

[happy-beeeps]

Hi love! Could I request a Rex X reader where reader can’t sleep so he stays and talks with her?

Hi lovie!!! Tysm for the request! It makes me so happy to answer these especially when they're about Rex. I actually struggle with insomnia so this is like a very real occurrence for me, so I hope you love it!! Also the way i'm posting this at night aw it's like a bedtime story this has so many layers

Bed Time

pairing: Rex x jedi!reader

Summary: You have a hard time finding sleep, so Rex finds you instead

Warnings: None, this is tooth rotting fluff for my sleepy girlies (gn)

WC: 1.2k

* * *

You’re a monster when you’re low on sleep, according to everyone in the Jedi Council and most of the GAR. For being a Jedi, you’d think you’d be well equipped to handle low sleep, but to you, sleep is currency. There’s a running gag of all the places you’ve dozed off when trying to catch up on lost hours (the current favorites being Master Yoda’s council chair, at Kix’s med station, and inside the youngling’s training room.) You’re bristle and groggy when you’re low on energy, and everyone jokes of the time Anakin had proposed one of his haphazard “plans,” and you had looked at him, eyes sullen, and placed a hand over his mouth. “I’m going to need you to stop talking.” You grumbled.

He got over it. Eventually.

This lack of sleep is how you find yourself here, padding through the jungles of Felucia in nothing but your sleep shorts and tunic. When sleep struggles to find you, you’ve found it best to seek a quiet spot away from your bed and do something, anything, to calm your mind. Meditate, read, once you have even scrubbed the entirety of the 501st’s gear. So now, you settle on a quiet spot overlooking a valley, out of sight from where you’ve all made camp, but not too far that you’re in any inherent danger. It’s hard to focus here, the air is thick and soupy and you swear if you swung your arms down fast enough you’d catch water droplets on them. Still, the quiet hum of wildlife around you allows you to ground yourself in the moment, to pretend you’re not at war. It’s calm, peaceful even. Of course, until the peace is corrupted by the crunch of footfall, and you spin around to face the intruder, though your gaze softens as it lands on him.

Rex walks in through the bushes, holding a canteen and a scrap of fabric in one hand, and his bucket in another. He’s dressed only on the bottom, opting to just wear his blacks across his broad chest. “Fancy seeing you here,” he smirks, then moves to settle next to you, offering you the canteen of crisp water.

You graciously accept it, drinking as much as you can muster in one breath, hoping to replace everything you’ve just sweated out. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

“You know, some might even say I was made for you.”

You roll your eyes at the quip, sending your shoulders gently into his. He takes the movement as an invitation to open his arm, and you happily settle your weight on his chest, your head resting in the crook of his neck.

“What are you doing here,” he murmurs against your hair, and you make a movement that resembles a shrug.

“Dunno. Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”

He laughs, and you can feel the rumble down your spine, “Right, so we’ll be paying for that in the morning.”

You look up at his smirk and stick out your tongue at him, and he responds by pressing a warm kiss on the back of your cheek near your ear, swinging his arms around you to hold you firmly across your chest. “How can I make it better?”

“Master Yoda would say by leaving me alone,” you joke, and you know he gets your jest, as he only holds you tighter. “Can we just talk? I don’t know why I’m so unsettled right now.”

“Of course, about what?”

You shrug again and nudge your feet outwards, kicking Rex’s helmet as you move. “What are your marks for again? Tell me about them.”

“Those?” he gestures his head towards the helmet, “For missions I’ve successfully completed. Course, I’ve had to start counting by fives.”

Your eyes land on the newest cluster scrawled on his forehead and you count seven dashes. 35 battles won. You don’t know why that fact impresses you, considering you’ve been at probably half of them at least, not to mention the other missions you’ve completed. Then again, everything Rex does impresses you.

“You ever think about what you’d do without it all, the war, the missions? When it’s all over?”

He hums, pulling you in closer, “Nah, not much use in it. I’m not meant to know anything but war.”

You swat at his chest, “Don’t say that, you know I don’t like it." There’s a blissful silence that falls around the two of you after that. Not quite enough for you to get sleepy, but enough for you to melt into his arms a little bit more, to meditate a touch and use his breathing as an anchor. After a few minutes of this, you start up again. “I know what I’d do.”

“Oh really, General? I’m all ears.”

“First, I think I’d rescue this one dashingly handsome clone captain I worked with, if he’d have me,”

“He would, always, but go on,” and he trails kisses up and down the back of your neck, wherever he can reach.

“Then I think I’d settle on a system somewhere warm, with a beach maybe.”

“Like Naboo?”

“Sure, we can go to Naboo. Then, I think I’d be a teacher.”

“Like a Jedi Master?”

“Yeah, I guess. I’d teach all the kids in our town and then I’d come home to my captain.”

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see you.” And he is. Rex pulls your chin in for a kiss, not fueled by lust or urgency, but a slow, easy kiss that’s meant to put you at ease. “Do you mean it?” he asks, eyes searching yours for any deception.

You yawn. “When it comes to you, always.”

He grips you tighter, and sleep threatens to overtake you now. “Mesh’la,” he murmurs, running his fingers up and down the sides of your arms, sprouting chill bumps in his wake. “Put this on.” And he passes you the black fabric resting beside him.

You unfurl it and open it to reveal one of his black undershirts. “Rex,”

“I just washed it, it’s clean. It’s designed to wick sweat so it’ll keep you cool,” he nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck now, “sides, it’ll be like I’m sleeping with ‘ya.”

“Won’t that look suspicious? What if Anakin says something-”

“I can guarantee you that he won’t.”

You do as you're told, and settle into the warmth of his chest once more, surrounded by him and his scent. You must drift off in a matter of minutes, and Rex scoops you up carefully, holding you with both arms and carefully bending down to pick up your lightsaber. He walks the short distance back to camp, and meets a smirking General Skywalker at the flap of your tent. The Jedi puts his hand up before Rex can say anything, “Whatcha got there?” he smirks, opening the flap for Rex to place you at your bedroll, you still fast asleep. He ducks back out to face Anakin, who just gives him a knowing look before placing a hand on his shoulder. “Goodnight, you two.”

Rex rolls his eyes but grins at his General, before turning back to face your tent. “Goodnight cyarika.” He murmurs, the sound quick and fleeting, floating away on the warm, Felucian air.

[starsdies]

Obikin AU where Anakin is still struggling after his divorce with his ex-wife. His insomnia is the worst of it all, Anakin not used to such a quiet and empty house. To combat his loneliness, he looks into professional cuddling apps and comes across one of the highest rated cuddlers on the site, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Taking a chance, Anakin decides to try it out to see if it could help. He’s always slept a little easier with someone nearby afterall.

Obi-Wan is true to his rating, he discovers. He knows exactly the right way to hold him, or allow Anakin to cuddle back, his voice soft and touch softer as he prompts him through the various positions. Anakin schedules weekly sessions, drawn to the effort Obi-Wan extends to him. Warm tea (extra sweet, just as he prefers) and quiet rants about the terrible “ambiance” in his room.

The only issue is that Anakin might like it too much. The sessions become a normal part of his weekly routine—Obi-Wan more than just a cuddler, but a friend he confides in about his post-divorce loneliness. The aching emptiness of losing Padme, the routine in his life as a husband, the motivation for a family. He talks quietly in whispers as they tangle together, Anakin fussing over his hair getting caught under Obi-Wan’s arm, the crumbs of snacks shared in the bed—he realizes just how much it’s helped him. It doesn’t hurt that Obi-Wan is attractive, either. Anakin adores the way his beard feels against the nape of his neck. Adores the way his arms flex to keep him still for sleep.

It doesn’t help that Anakin is curious. It doesn’t help that Obi-Wan is known for more than just his cuddling services, he discovers—but his side work as a professional dom. It doesn’t help, most of all, that Anakin has felt lonely in this area of his life.

He clings to this knowledge the next time Obi-Wan shows up for his session. Anakin finds himself flushing when Obi-Wan asks how he likes the new position (has his voice always been that lovely?). His neck, down to his chest, is in flames when Obi-Wan presses behind him in their favorite cuddle position, Anakin too aware at the heat of Obi-Wan’s body, his arms keeping Anakin tight against him, the way his ass naturally rests right back on Obi-Wan.

[gayrootvegetable]

wip word search !!

thank you to roopster @firenati0n for tagging me in this cute lil tag game !! this is such a fun idea, and i'm excited to share my first wip snippets on here :)

rules: use this generator to generate three random words (or however many you'd like) and share the lines where they show up in your wips

i only have one wip at the moment (my tumblr au) so i'll just be pulling from that one hehe. my words are board, urge, and sleep !!

board

In the far corner, there’s a boy standing all by himself, looking absolutely breathtaking with his beautiful blue eyes, soft blonde hair, and legs for days. His eyes are darting around the room, seemingly unsure of what to focus on. Is he lost? Did he miss the ‘Self-assigned Seating’ written on the whiteboard? Maybe Alex should say something.

urge

Alex feels a deep sadness for this person, whose URL seems to be extremely fitting. He has a strong urge to comfort this person, to tell them that it will get better.

sleep

It’s the night before Alex’s first day of sophomore year, and he can’t sleep. Not that that’s surprising; he’s always had insomnia.

my brain is soup so i'll tag a handful of people, but take this as an open invite to share !! and tag me if you do because these are so fun omg

no pressure <3 @lizzie-bennetdarcy @littlemisskittentoes @14carrotghoul @happiness-of-the-pursuit @inexplicablymine @user-anakin @songliili @wordsofhoneydew @matherines @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @tinyarmedtrex @affectionatelyrs @ssmtskw @whimsymanaged @read-and-write- @anincompletelist @rockyroadkylers

[grapenehifics]

Trick or treat! I have a costume on but you can't see it because I've got a giant snowsuit over top in true Canadian Halloween fashion

Ah, in that case I will offer you a steaming mug of hot chocolate or apple cider, your choice, I have both, and also this plot bunny I've had running around my brain for the past couple of days:

Anakin moved to (city housing large university) to attend (said large university) but after a semester or two discovered that formal schooling wasn't doing it for him and he was both making good money with and getting more enjoyment out of his side hustle, custom carpentry, than from his classes and quit, but he still lives in (city). He's had insomnia his whole life and some nights just gives up on sleep and goes out to his backyard/garage converted workshop. There's an old transistor radio out there - maybe it got left behind by the last owners - and he turns it on just to have some background noise while he works.

He's scrolling the dial past all the commercials for personal injury lawyers and lands on some real banger of a song, which he's never heard before but he's into it so he pauses the lathe or whatever he has running and waits to listen for the station to tell him the name of the song so he can look it up later, but after the song ends it pivots straight to some spoken-word poetry thing, and now Anakin's intrigued because, what the hell is this station?

Finally the dj comes on and says okay, folks, that's the end of the show, I'm Ben Kenobi and this has been Guiding Light, thanks for staying up with me. Anakin looks at the dial and realizes he's been listening to the local university student station.

This keeps happening, and Anakin kind of becomes obsessed with Ben Kenobi and Guiding Light. He's only on two or three nights a week, for only a couple of hours at a time, in the middle of the night, and he seems to have no oversight at all because he plays the weirdest mix of stuff - classical, film scores, comedy albums, half of an audiobook, one night he played a Robert Johnson song and then for the next hour nothing but cover versions of that song, the show before Halloween he played the entirety of Orson Welles' War of the Worlds and then one of those 'spooky sounds' albums while reading Edgar Allen Poe short stories on top of it - one time he even said he'd been really caught up in this book he'd been reading and he didn't want to stop long enough to do the show so he was going to give a synopsis of what had happened so far and then read the next chapter out loud on the air. Anakin has no idea what to expect but he knows that he feels less lonely, when Ben is there, and somehow even though Ben has no idea he exists it feels like they're the only two people in the world, out in Anakin's workshop in the middle of the night.

Anakin Googles him, because he's kind of worried that if he's on the university radio station then maybe that means he's some university kid and Anakin has a crush on a nineteen-year-old (even though he doesn't sound anything like a college student), and all he finds is the radio station website, which has a huge page for all their other shows but Guiding Light gets exactly one sentence: "Ben Kenobi has been hosting Guiding Light since 2004". So, probably not a kid, then, but he's got no social whatsoever, no pictures or online presence at all, and Anakin considers driving down to the station but dismisses that as too creepy so he just resigns himself to listening to Ben when he can.

And then one night Ben gets on the air and says, 'I've got nothing planned for tonight and I feel like chatting. Here's the number of the station. Anyone want to talk?'

Anakin swallows, picks up his phone, and dials the number.

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

⛵️ Five Fandoms, Five Ships ⛵

Get to know the blogger, via five different ships from five different fandoms!

I've been tagged by four beloved mutuals (@willameena @kingdomvel @fem-anakin-skywalker @cottonraincoat). Thank you all, and sorry for lagging behind on tag games lately. This year marks the twelfth anniversary of me reading my first slash fic and getting involved in fandom. Doesn't sound like too long, but that's one half of my existence on this planet. So, the answer will be long. It's tough to choose just five out of what feels like dozens (and is probably more). Let's get to it!

Johnlock (John Watson\Sherlock Holmes, both Sherlock BBC and the original ACD stories) Surprised at this first pick? Me too. I haven't really interacted with the Sherlock fandom in the years since season 4. Even longer, really. But this was the first ship I talked to another human being about, the first flame war I participated in, the first fandom I saw grow and flourish (and then crash and burn). Little Hertie's shipping goggles were just growing in at that point, but there was plenty to see through them! That time between seasons 2 and 3 was magical. I remember being oh so excited about how The Adventure of the Empty House would get adapted to screen - and bitterly, horribly disappointed when it was. Nothing compares in my mind to the rabid times of season 4, either. Not that I believed in any conspiracies, but... Hey. My first long-lost tumblr blog existed pretty much exclusively to let me watch that trainwreck. Still, nowadays, every time I get depressed and morose, there's a Johnlock fic or two saved in my library to cheer me up. And of course, there's still a friend or two in my orbit who came into my life through that shipping group.

Obikin (Obi-Wan Kenobi\Anakin Skywalker, Star Wars) I mean, of course. We're in the Obikin Central here) I've loved Star Wars ever since being shown The Phantom Menace at age 10 at a sanatorium for kids with back problems. The back problems persist to this day, but at least I got something out of it)) At some next re-watch, years later, I went to check what people were writing on AO3 - might be the first fandom I braved in English instead of my native language. There was plenty to find, of course, and I went about my usual process of reading lots of fic, saving the best for later and then moving on to the next obsession. How'd I come to be here, then? Simple. Last year, I went for a visit to my hometown, and promptly got sick. And I mean delirious with fever. So the next few days I had plenty of time to re-watch the prequels, and for the first time get acquainted with Clone Wars 2003 and TCW. That burned a hole straight through my heart, of course, and I started drawing fanart for the first time in my life. Maybe it was finally time to let go of the fear that governed my quiet lurker's existence on the internet ever since an unfortunate incident involving a fic translation and boning skeletons? I suppose it was. Ever since I've been filling a newfound personal-life-related insomnia with drawing fanart, and, on occasion, writing. So here I am, and here all of you are. The SW fandom has been the most welcoming space full of the most brilliant people, and I'm honored every day by being allowed into it.

William Carter/Wilson P. Higgsbury (Don't Starve) This is a rarepair of all rarepairs, possibly only with some timey-wimey fic logic and a slither of faith. The reason I'm putting it on the list is simple - this ship was included in the one big fan project I've finished and am still proud of: a translation (from my native language) of a 14-Chapter fic. This one. No story before or since has gripped my imagination quite so strongly, and the desire to share it with the English-speaking world propelled me through sleepless nights and many hours of editing. It follows, in a way, an amnesiac's journey to regaining his memories, as well as a man's journey to madness, all rolled up into one unreliable narration. Oh, and pre-slash of the kind that gets you stealthily and then never lets go. It's here to represent what I think the best parts of shipping are to me: a creative drive that burns like nothing else, and a way to connect to other people's outlook on the world.

Illya Kuryakin/Napoleon Solo (The Man From U.N.C.L.E. - the 2015 movie) Even stranger picks on the list tonight! This movie, let me tell you, it took my breath away. Watched in in cinema with a friend, then dragged another friend to see it again, joined social media groups, went to a shippers' meetup, had a crush on a girl there, turns out she was already dating someone - let's just say, it was the whole nine yards. An emotional rollercoaster. I wake up sometimes having dreamed of a world where things are different - for example, the movie had several sequels, there was no reason to permanently move from my hometown, I'm out there at more shipper's meetups having infatuations, life's beautiful... Well. At least I have re-watches of this movie, and good fics to read about this ship.

Honorable mentions (Couldn't pick just one, sorry) Now, there could be many honorable mentions for ships I've loved and love to this day. - Ones like Aziraphale/Crowley, Merthur and Spirk, that illicit obsession every time I touch upon their respective fandoms (Good Omens, Merlin and Star Trek). Maybe one day I'll have the bravery to put out the snippets I've written about them. All three have made me cry, and burn with fury, and smile like nothing else. - Or ones like Rinch (hello there Person of Interest people! I'm not sure any of you read this far), which were and still are like flame to the heart, but I've been asked for five, and that story is not yet finished for me.

There are yet others I have no time to mention, too rare or too controversial. But maybe there will be time someday. After all, it's been twelve years - here's to twelve more!

[askbensolo]

Journal Entry #41: the night realm

The nightmares are nothing like they used to be (in a good way). I don’t miss the boy who nightly watched the stars traverse across the sky, waiting for sunrise, refusing to slip into the realm of dreams. The insomnia is gone, alleviated by the exhausting grind of the twenty-something working professional. I now adore bedtime in a way that tells me: dang, I really must be old.

But once in a while, the dreams of old come back. They rise, limbs dangling, from the forgotten graveyard of my latent memories. Their rotting faces tilt and stare unblinkingly into mine, and I am frozen yet pushed through the script, a participant on the stage of the night’s theatrics with all the power of one in the audience.

Some dreams are so recognizable I can recite each scene line by line. Some dreams shift and change, a puddle’s reflection in torrential rain, evolving with every new iteration. Some dreams I’ve never seen before and never see again, leaving me to wonder where that demon has gone to hide.

I don’t always have time to process them. Some mornings my alarm jolts me out of one of those sleeping hellscapes, and heart pounding, palms sweating, stomach turning, I still shower and brush my teeth and comb my hair and make my caf and rush to the gym and then to work like I do every morning.

Sometimes I call my Uncle Luke. Close enough to confide in, removed enough to save me from all the fussing and hand-wringing. I used to fear him when I was younger, thinking he would see a Jedi student in me and take me from my parents against my will. But now the distance from my parents is voluntary, and though I have not chosen the path of a Jedi, Luke has always seemed to believe in me.

There was one dream that kept coming back. One where the seed of darkness inside of me sprouts, its vines and roots spidering alongside every vein in my body, barely concealed but ready to one day burst forth through the soil. I try to conceal it, but cannot, and one evening the last Skywalker, the galaxy’s light, sees the darkness coursing through me and does what he must.

Luke, but not Luke. Green light reflecting in his hollow eyes. He means to kill me, to sacrifice me on the altar of a straw mattress, and thus purge the evil from our bloodline and appease the light side of the Force.

In the waking world, I visited him in person one weekend. Over tea I described this dream to him, unsure how he would react.

He placed his hand on my shoulder—the one still made of flesh and blood—and looked hard into my eyes.

“You are my sister’s son, and even if you were not, I would give my life for you,” he said. “I will always see the light in you. Even if the darkest day comes, and there is only a shred.”

And then he told me again the story of Anakin his father, scourge of the planets, murderer of many, attack dog of the emperor yet a menace in his own right. How at the end of it all there was only a disfigured old man, pale as moondust, looking into the eyes of his son. How the Jedi teachers had instructed the last Skywalker to strike his father down, but the galaxy’s only hope said…

“No.”

And while the Empire and the Rebellion battled, and the second Death Star crumbled into space, a father and a son sat quietly with one another for the first and last time...

But there is another Skywalker, though she has rejected the name. Once in the kitchen while we were chopping vegetables for dinner, I asked her what she would have done in Luke’s place. I have never seen a carrot beheaded so violently.

“I would have watched him die,” she said immediately and without feeling, then looked mortified and caught my eye as though perhaps she should not have told me. I’ve never brought it up again, and neither has she.

Some dreams stay the same and some of them change. Actors switch roles, alternate scenes are introduced, sometimes a line is delivered differently from night to night. Once, Luke’s part was played by an understudy who has since taken over the role completely, and so it is that I look up sometimes in the dream world and Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan stands ready to take the life she gave to me.

It’s only a dream. The real Leia tries to get me to come home every other weekend and asks me if I’m wearing my coat during Naboo’s winter months and sends me my baby pictures in the middle of the workday. She mails me care packages with homemade cookies that aren’t that good and hugs me when I visit as if I’m not twice her size and tells me she's reminded of her little boy when she packs lunches for Rey.

And yet…there’s fear in her. It’s not something I can see with my eyes, but it is there nonetheless.

[thegreatwicked]

WIP it good...

So, it's been a minute since I've made an actual post relevant to my writing and since I'm in hardcore analysis paralysis mode right now I'm leaving it up to you guy as to what writing project is a priority right now so here's what I've got:

Meditations: Maul/OFC; After returning to rebuild his homeward of Dathomir, with his brothers, under his mothers instruction as she is dying, he also has his mate Zeala by his side. Its a hot summer night and Maul has insomnia, so he tries a little meditation, his mate senses his restlessness and joins him and the two enjoy a little quiet meditation time, turns out meditation is great foreplay. NSFW, AU. One shot with room for more content. Written from Mauls perspective.

Thunderstorms: Hux/OFC, AU following the arranged marriage troupe. After a considerable rebel defeat the First Order decides it needs to present a unified image to the galaxy as they'll be running it soon; a PR stunt finds Hux being told since he's young, successful, good looking and tactical brilliance he needs a wife! He's given a list of candidates and he gets to pick, he's less than thrilled about this whole arrangement until he meets a woman as ruthless and smart as him. Selene Corvus. This is the story of her experiencing first thunderstorm and Hux takes some leave to surprise her, coming home to find her nearly cowering, he helps her forget the storm. This was inspired by Thunderstorm by Lady in Writing on TikTok. NSFW, AU

After the Storm: Hux/OFC, AU another Hux story because I'm a simp. SEX POLLEN TROUPE. Sort of. Hux, who survived his assassination attempt by admiral Pryde is now working with the Rebellion and is returning to base with his partner, Sola Vex when their shuttle is caught in an electrical storm and they crash on a small island. The island is full of dangerous flora and among that is the infamous sex pollen plant. Very long one shot with a twist. NSFW, obviously.

Unbreakable Bonds: Obi-wan/OFC, AU. This is a multi chapter semi slow burn between Obi-wan and the jedi sentinel he had a one night stand with ten years prior to RotS. Anakin stops Mace from killing Palpatine and he's made a proper master on the counsel, one day a surprise shows up in the form of Cressida Vox the sentinel Obi-wan slept with and she has his son who is now almost ten years old. With something of two scandals on their hands the council decides to reevaluate their long held stances on attachment along with Anakin about to be a father the time for change may be upon the Jedi, semi slow burn romans eventual NSFW.

Armitage: Hux/OFC, AU. My last Hux story for now, maybe. Hux survives his assassination attempt and joins the rebellion but only because everyone else wants him dead. In a revelation hux discovers his mother is alive and has been kept from him by his asshole father, when he fails to recognize her or acknowledge her in anyway Holdo is ready to have him executed not wanting to deal with him anymore. The agent who protected his mother, Sola Vex puts herself in the line of fire and offers to watch Hux and take responsibility for him until the brainwashing his father did can possibly be undone. She's not doing this for him but for his mother who doesn't want to see her son die. This ties into After the Storm and is a long term, semi-slow burn, eventual NSFW.

Shadows of Deception: Roman Sionis/OFC, AU. After witnessing a triple murder in Romans club, Belladonna Black makes a deal with Roman to avoid a similar death by playing the part of his girlfriend in order to establish a solid alibi and to help clean up his name. Fake relationship troupe, very NSFW, little slow burn, I was just sipping over this man and wanted to write something kinky.

Healing Hands: Jason Todd/OFC, semi AU. Jason returns to his vigilante girlfriend apartment one night and he's in bad shape. Haunted by his past and pain, he gives himself over to his girlfriend to take care of him. I made a Tumblr post about this some time ago. NSFW, but kind of sweet and sexy. One shot, maybe room for more.

Read to Me: Matt Murdock/OFC. Matt's girlfriend is an errotic novel narrator and she's reading a new book preparing for a new project while Matt is trying to work. But he cancer her heart beating faster, hear her breathing and know she's getting tot eh good part of her book. She takes a break and offers to read to him. NSFW, one shot.

It's No Good: Soldier boy/OFC, AU. Bored in a bar one night Soldier boy meets a woman who his charms don't work on, a woman who isn't putting up with his bullshit. When he basically calls her a tramp because she comes onto him when he comes onto her, she rips him a new one and tells him "When you're tired of quantity and want quality come find me." VERY, NSFW. One shot.

1001 Nights of Mischief: Loki/OFC(Siygn), AU. A series of sexy adventures between Loki and his beloved fiancé/eventual Wie Sign the goddess of fidelity. He follows he to Midguard to play a game with her, he finds her in a gentleman club and she offers to show him a new mid guardian custom she's learned for him, a private dance. NSFW, one shot with potential for more.

Ok, thats my main projects right now so let me know which one you guys would like me to work on next!

[brooklynislandgirl]

Advent Calendar: Day 1

@mynameisanakin​

“Wintah Solstice or Yule is da Longest Night, da peak of power of darkness ovah da ‘aina. It also da turnin’ point, aftah which da nights grow shortah, days get longer as light is reborn into da world. Amongst da Verbena, it is seen as a child, newly born in da underworld from da womb of da Goddess. It is a time of spirit descendin’ into da form an’ solidarity of matter, represented by da stillness of da cold an’ frozen eart’. It is also a time for craftin’ an’ repairin’ or workin’ indoors to make an’ fix da tools needed for da coming year.” Beth glances over her shoulder as she arrays a garland of holly and ivy along the mantle of the fireplace in the great room, allowing the ripe red berries to catch light from the windows, to make sure that Anakin is following along and not bored to death by her lecture. She’s careful not to impose her beliefs on him, despite having a firm hold of her own paradigm. He’s still constructing his own, waiting for the right mentor to find him. Some part of her suspects that search is not so strenuous, that he is content to remain within her umbrage. She’s prideful in her belief that her tradition gives her an older legacy, and she will swear that it is the ways of the Wyck that spread like fire among the Sleepers aeons ago, changing only a little with each culture that adopted that faith as their own. Of course, she also says that most Traditions will have the same story to tell, and most of them would be wrong. Except she’d do it with a wink and a smile, with very little more than playful sibling-rivalry in her tone. In the wan light streaming through the sheer curtains, his profile is still razor-sharp but not deathly worrisome, he’s filled out slightly since his arrival on her doorstep. In the three years he’s been under her roof he’s regained his colour, he’s grown a little more confident in himself, and no longer has that rattling cough that worried her into insomnia for months. He still hasn’t overcome all of his pains, illnesses, or neuroses, but she’s no longer afraid to leave him unattended nor does she think she will wake up one morning to find a bare home and clinic with nothing but her regrets for company. “Da Art of Matter, for Verbena involves infusing cold an’ unlivin’ substance wi’ Spirit and Life. Da ability t’ take an’ shape da raw stuff of da world into tools an’ da kine of beauty has always been seen as a magickal art, an’ we hold to da views of smi’ds, weavers, carpenters, an’ oddah crafters as practicin’ a sort of magick of dey own. By understandin’ how Prime has passed t’rough Spirit to become Matter, a witch can see da essence or Pattern of matter an’ alter it to suit his will.” This is all theoretical to her, she has never been able to learn that particular Art, though with specially prepared items, she can still bid spirits to bind with them to create talismans and fetishes, and he’s already known quite intimately how well she wields the sphere of Life. But she still owes him an explanation of all the Spheres, and how they were attempted to be taught to her. She hates having to acknowledge that his home is nothing like her own, save for the blessed heat and humidity, but they make a good go of it. “Foci of Matter magick are da tools of craftahs an’ makers, from simple kitchen utensils like knives, spoons, an’ bubblin’ cauldrons to da hammah, chisel an’ da anvil. Fire is a focus for da Matter Sphere, transformin’ da heat of da hearth,” she pronounces that word with extreme care, forcing herself the digraph correctly for him, “da oven, an’ da forge. We are known for firin’ or forgin’ matter into new forms as one might fire newly moulded clay t’ set its shape, or beat red-hot metal into some new life. Personally, I find it small kine silly…clearly Fire belong to Forces, but ya eventually gonna see dere’s a lot of overlap between da Spheres. What I’d like ya f’ do, aftah ya help me set up da candles t’roughout da house an’ we go grab lunch…Was t’inkin’ we go t’ T’irteen an’ grab some mushroom phillys an’ a impossibly huge order of dose tater tot nachos….is to come up wi’ somet’ing you’d like to make or some talisman you’d love f’ have… an’ we can practice t’ see if you got a talent f’ Matter. Personally, I’mma hand make us some 'ahu'ula ahead of carnival season.”

[chrislaplante]

ཐི 𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖘 𐕣 𝖘𝖍𝖊𝖊𝖙 ཋྀ

⟩ NAME christopher anakin laplante. ( "chris" ) ⟩ ANAKIN note that he will not disclose his middle name unless he has to. only close friends & family know it/use it, or its nickname "ani" ( Aa-nee, like in star wars). ⟩ AGE 28. ( verse dependent ) ⟩ BIRTHDATE march 5th. ⟩ SIGN pisces. ⟩ GEN ID cis-male. ( he / him ) ⟩ RACE & ETHNICITY caucasian / mixed. ( french-canadian / latinx ) ⟩ ORIENTATION pan - sexual & romantic. ( currently questioning ) ⟩ LANGUAGES english, understands spanish but does not speak it. ⟩ SPECIES human. living conduit. ⟩ HEIGHT six foot, four. ⟩ WEIGHT between one hundred sixty four & one hundred seventy lbs. ⟩ BUILD average, thin but healthy, slight muscle visibility. ⟩ EYES blue with specks of green. ⟩ HAIR light brown, bleached blond, long, messy, curls at the ends when clean. ⟩ FACE CLAIM jack kilmer. ⟩ VOICE CLAIM jack kilmer. ⟩ SINGING VOICE CLAIM jasperrvocals on yt. ⟩ PHYSIQUE CLAIM bill skarsgard in battlecreek ( minus scarring ).

⟩ SIGNIFICANT OTHER helena elanor rodriguez ( " hels " ). ⟩ FRIENDS matt, pascual & kay. ( verse dependent ) ⟩ FATHER cassidy nathaniel laplante. ( " cassie " ) † ⟩ MOTHER iris arabella laplante ( " bella " ). ( nee de luna ) ⟩ SIBLINGS marabella jade laplante ( " mar " ). ( five yrs chris' junior ) ⟩ PETS none. but he had a cat named "cheese-itz" as a kid.

⟩ RELIGIOUS BELIEFS he was not raised in a religious household, he grew up having no belief in god nor in any religious institution (atheist). when his mental health became a "problem", he started to question the inexplicable & began to explore spiritual possibilities (landing him with a ouija board). presently, he considers himself agnostic due to the obvious complicated affairs he deals with.

⟩ EDUCATION high school graduate, college drop-out. ( verse dependent )

⟩ OCCUPATION student , failed artist illustrator for a greeting card company but takes private commissions on the side to not let his soul die for band merch designs ( usually from local goth-punk bands & the occasional artsy metal band who are still on their " garage phase " ) or for self-published authors who may need something "dark" / "underground" / "unpolished" for their first amazon-exclusive ebook . lead singer in a little band called 𝑺𝖊𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖊 ( verse dependent )

⟩ SUFFERS FROM night terrors, anxiety, depression, nyctophobia (fear of the dark), insomnia, blackouts, dangerous intrusive thoughts, prolonged dissociation, episodes of depersonalization/derealization, anxiety attacks, auditory & visual "hallucinations". ⟩ DIAGNOSED WITH schizophrenia, general anxiety disorder, clinical depression, ocd, ptsd & non-suicidal self-injury disorder. ⟩ PRESCRIPTIONS 𐕣 ᴀɴᴛɪᴩꜱyᴄʜᴏᴛɪᴄꜱ (aripiprazole, side effects: low sex drive, restlessness, dry mouth, lack of emotion, dizziness, drowsiness, nausea, insomnia, headaches, blurred vision, low blood pressure, "seizures" / helps: hallucinations, paranoia, loss of interest in life). 𐕣 ᴍᴏᴏᴅ ꜱᴛᴀʙɪʟɪᴢᴇʀꜱ (lithium, side effects: trembling hands/tremors, nausea, hallucinations, "seizures" / helps: experiencing emotions). 𐕣 ᴀɴᴛɪᴅᴇᴩʀᴇꜱꜱᴀɴᴛꜱ (lexapro, side effects: nausea, tiredness, low sex drive / helps: mutes extreme lows, anxiety, depression, energy). 𐕣 ᴍᴜʟᴛɪᴩʟᴇ ꜱᴇᴅᴀᴛɪᴠᴇꜱ (clonazepam, side effects: paranoia, suicidal ideation, memory impairment / helps: seizures, night terrors, panic attacks. alprazolam, side effects: paranoia, suicidal ideation, memory impairment, impaired judgement & coordination). 𐕣 ᴇxᴛʀᴀ : he also occasionally habitually will take anything that might help him sleep (over the counter drugs; nyquil, benadryl, etc), even if they could clash with his prescribed medication. ( all of the medications above are verse dependent )

⟩ ENTITIES 𐕣 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖡𝖫𝖴𝖤 𝖵𝖤𝖨𝖫𝖤𝖣 𝖶𝖮𝖬𝖠𝖭 (stand-in for hekate); she is often gentle, nurturing, comforting, healing. chris is never fearful of her & if he'd surrender willingly to an entity, it would be her. 𐕣 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖪 𝖥𝖨𝖦𝖴𝖱𝖤 (stand-in for abaddon); is a male-essence dark figure which looms & feeds from pain, both physical or psychological. its sole purpose is to cause suffering. chris often sees "him" as a tall, menacing shadow, with shades of dark red. 𐕣 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖵𝖨𝖫𝖤 𝖬𝖠𝖱𝖨𝖮𝖭𝖤𝖳𝖳𝖤 (stand-in for abalam), always talking, prodding, pestering, infecting what it can. it knows how to feign friendliness but there is something off. something bigger behind it. like a trap. chris can’t quite see it clearly, but it feels like a farce. a costume. a mask. like a puppet trying to lure him into the mouth of a hungry beast. as it should. the marionette is simply trying to convince him. befriend him. to have him fall. the marionette works in the behest of the darkness. that is the only way chris can describe it. 𐕣 𝖳𝖧𝖤 𝖣𝖠𝖱𝖪𝖭𝖤𝖲𝖲 (stand-in for paymon) is foreboding. like a curtain that falls from behind a backdrop to uncover the monster that has been posing as a gutted-out carcass of an abandoned building. but it breathes. it watches. it smells of decay & it has you. the moment it touches you you are tainted. chris can hear its starving rumble , a low guttural growl. something savage. something hungry. like a storm that’s brewing. something that’s been watching its prey , learning its movements before it could even walk. chris cannot describe it as an entity , or a shadow , nor a shape. the darkness is an infection. a disease. & it feels like a watchful heavy mantle. like a cloud of smoke that swallows him whole before he can even see it coming in the horizon. but it’s there. chris knows it. it’s always been there. looming. waiting. waiting for surrender.

𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩

ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ yᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴛ? ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ yᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ yᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ ʟᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴇ?

[fanfictasia]

Whumpril Day 2

Stress/Insomnia/“Get some rest”

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Unveiled

It’s been… difficult to sleep since this started. Not as if that’s surprising. He often dreams, but they’re back again. It’s… often hard to deal with. They’ve been common enough during the war that he’s adapted to the habit of going down to the hangers in the night cycle sometimes, when he can’t even focus on meditating or can’t work on battle plans.

Normally, that’s something they’re only supposed to do in the daytime, not that there is truly a day or night in space.

Anakin is used to being alone here. It doesn’t bother him when he has something to focus on, something to do. Exhaustion is nagging at him, especially considering how he hasn’t slept much in quite a while but staring blankly at the ceiling was getting… dull.

It was making him restless.

His fighter was lost on Cato Neimoidia, and Anakin hasn’t had time to upgrade another one to his liking. He has time for that now. Sort of.

Everything around him fades away as he works, as it always does, enough that Anakin almost doesn’t notice a familiar presence hovering nearby.

“Rex?” Anakin asks, sliding out from under the fighter. “What are you doing here? Is it morning already?”

“I heard you were out here, so I thought I could come down.”

Anakin sits up after scooting back a bit more. He’ll never stop being touched by his men’s blind loyalty. He doesn’t understand what it is they see in him so much, anyway, but they do. And it’s… comforting. This is finally one place in the galaxy it feels like he belongs.

“How have you been, sir?” Rex asks. For them, it’s not awkward. Not anymore. They’re used to it. Anakin may be his superior, but in many ways, they still see one another as equals.

“It’s… been a day,” he says finally. He doesn’t know how else to answer it.

“Kix maintains you should be resting,” Rex adds.

Anakin huffs out a laugh. “Of course, he does.” That’s nearly always true, after all.

“With everything that’s happened since Cato Neimoidia, I can’t say he’s wrong,” Rex adds, dryly.

“He’s not,” he concedes, because really, he ought to be, but it’s not an option right now. He can’t close his eyes without being jolted awake with a nightmare of something or other, so he’s given up trying entirely. “But it’s not easy right now.” He hasn’t mentioned to anyone how he can’t stop thinking about what Ahsoka said, her questions about the Order and the war. He definitely can’t tell Rex that, when he’s given so much blindly for the Republic and has lost so much.

“I understand that, sir,” Rex agrees. Anakin knows it’s a problem all the clones share – he remembers the times after Echo’s death, that he kept running into Fives out in the halls of the cruiser at night. At times, he had seemed so… lifeless afterwards, until more recently. “But still,

I suggest you get some rest. I doubt the Commander would have a problem with you going to be with her.”

Of course, they’ve noticed that he sometimes has an easy time sleeping if someone’s next him, during the countless nights they’ve spent out on the battle field together, with Ahsoka usually curled up next to him. “Yeah,” Anakin agrees, smiling. It feels like it’s the first time it’s been sincere in a long time. “You too, Rex. This has been a long day for all of us.” He has little doubt that from here, the war is only going to get worse.

[daincrediblegg]

Y’all I wanna cry I know in a perfect world where anakin and padme were there to happily raise their kids Luke would get into politics and leia would learn jedi stuff but Kenobi has me considering that she’d be obi-wan’s padawan rather than anakin and so help me god it will not leave my head