#and obi-wans hand???? what are proportions?

[dontbelasagnax]

Ok fine! You’ve convinced me! I’ll learn how to draw specifically so I can draw codywan kissing, you’ve spread your gospel successfully

…

How do you draw tho fr cuz I can doodle like, funky lookin birds but people is fully out of my depth send help

AAAA HELL YEAHHHH!!!!! LET'S GOOOO!!!!!

You've opened a can of worms asking me for art advice so *cracks knuckles* buckle up.

I sort of (only a little bit) use the Loomis method for easy head drawing. Here is a playlist of YouTube videos by Proko. Highly, highly recommend that channel for your art tutorial needs!

I start with a circle. For side profiles, I draw a line down the side of the circle to determine where the features will sit upon. I draw a triangular shape to mark where the orbital socket is. Around the middle point of the circle is where the jawline ends and the ear begins so draw a line there. There are proportion rules which are good guidelines when starting out in art but since I've been doing this my entire life, I have a feel for things and just wing it. That's to say, I put in a line implying the jaw based on vibes.

Next, I draw the eyebrows and brow ridge. Then the nose. I find I majorly base my proportions on this area so if anything is off, it throws the rest of the face off.

Then I draw the lips and chin... or in Obi-Wan's case, his beard. I will mark in his sideburns and hairline as well. Now, about ears: generally the top of the ear begins right around the top of the eyebrow and stops at the base of the nose. At this point I like to draw his eye, define the cheekbone, and refine the eyebrow. I'll finish scribbling in hair and that's it!

(Cody is much the same but I forgot to take useful progress pics 😂)

Extended Art Advice 👇

Tip #1: Draw lightly. Do not ever grip your pencil tight. This only leads to pain. You will notice I didn't erase at all. This is partly because I know what marks to make because I've done it a million times before and also because my lines are soft enough I can make lots of them and choose to deepen the ones that work.

Tip #2: Practice, practice, practice. Artistic skill is just loads and loads of accumulated knowledge and muscle memory from practice. This sounds boring but, in reality, you should make it fun.

Tip #3: Draw from observation/USE REFERENCE! The only reason I can get away without using reference when I'm feeling lazy is because I've drawn the same things over and over enough times it stuck. Aka I did lots of practice.

Now, to combine all these tips together, let's talk about how to use reference and how to make practice fun.

Reference is a huge aid when drawing at any point in your art journey. But I've found that in order to learn from what you're looking at, you need to think critically.

You obviously have something you want to draw. Reference helps you with that. You'll start out trying to draw what you see. Eventually you will run into an obstacle where you've messed up and things aren't looking good. This is to be expected. Every time this happens, think about what isn't working and find solutions with your reference. Analyze your subject to find your answers. Draw it again. Do not be afraid of failure. Each time you fail, you must look for a solution and this will lead you closer to your goal. This is how you grow as an artist.

I know, it sounds dreadfully boring and like a shit ton of work. It is a lot of work but you can make it fun! You love Obi-Wan and Cody so make Pinterest boards of Ewan McGregor and Temuera Morrison. Whatever you want to practice (may that be eyes, mouths, hands, hair, the face as a whole, etc) draw them. Ever hear tracing is bad? Fuck that. It's a perfectly valid tool to help you learn. If you're drawing digitally, pull up your reference in the art program of your choice, lower the opacity a little, make a new layer and trace what you see. I honestly find tracing to be very hard so when I've done this, I prefer to try to find shapes that will aid me when I'm actually drawing. If you're drawing traditionally, you can print out the photo and trace over it with a tracing paper or use a lightbox. You can also up the brightness on your computer screen and tape a piece of paper and trace that way.

Photos aren't the only references you can use! You can always look to your favorite artists' work and try to figure out how they do it. Often artists will break things down into more easily digestible shapes that will help you better understand how things work. Remember, if you ever copy or trace someone's art, it is for learning purposes only and you shouldn't post it. Feel free to take elements of people's art that you like and put your own spin on it though. For instance: I really love how this one artist draws men's tits so I studied a bunch of their art and now I'm much better at drawing them.

Oh and did you think you only get practice in while studying? Wrong! There's no reason you should shy away from trying to make the art you really want just because your skills aren't the most refined. Spoiler alert: you will grow the most when you push yourself out of your comfort zone. Draw codywan kissing. Draw it really enthusiastically and through profuse swearing and gritted teeth... but never a clenched hand. Don't hold back from the fun stuff just because it's hard. Aim high, land low, and shoot even higher next time.

In the beginning it will be especially frustrating. You'll feel like everything you make is a failure and nothing works out. You'll feel like you're not making any progress. Trust me, you are making progress and I believe in you.

If something really isn't working out and you find yourself growing distressed, take a break. It might last an hour or a week. Just take the break. Don't push it. Come back with fresh eyes and less stress. We all have days where nothing comes out right. Sometimes I can't even draw anything resembling a human face. It's okay. Whisper-yell expletives at your artwork and take the break. It will be okay.

With all that said, happy drawing and even happier codywan kissing!! 🧡💋🩵

[a-dumb-sarcastic-bisexual]

More clone wars headcanons (it's just Ahsoka and Anakin)

No matter how only Ahsoka gets Anakin will always see her as that little 14 year old who strong-armed her way onto a battlefield 

Honestly he isn’t very aware of this but there are tiny moments when it becomes very clear 

There are moments when people ask how old his padawan is and he’ll go “Oh she’s” and he’ll take a moment for some mental calculations and say “she’s 18 kriff she’s 18” 

And he’ll kinda sit in silence with that fact for a couple of seconds 

There’s also moments when people will call him out for getting her age wrong 

Like he’ll go “Don’t bite off more than you can chew Soka you’re only 14 after all” 

Ahsoka will reminds him in two days she’s be turning 20 when Anakin argues that fact Obi-Wan reminds him that he’s 25 which would make her 20 in a couple of days Anakin just kinda stares at a wall 

Ahsoka tried to snap him out of it but Obi-Wan stopped her with a quite “let him grieve Ahsoka” 

No matter how old the two get they will always play pranks on each other if anything the intensity grows with them 

When Ahsoka when 14 she would save small handfuls of sand to put in Anakin’s shoes 

And he would have thought it was just left over from some mission if the sand didn’t keep appearing after he emptied it out 

That and he caught Ahsoka red-handed and chased her sneaky ass around the temple until they were both too tired to care 

When Ahsoka turned 20 she hid sand everywhere in his shoes and in his pockets, girl even got it in some of his mugs 

He knew it was her cause he knew her m.o but she won’t admit to it and she doesn’t stop to matter how much he begs 

The breaking point is when he finds his bed covered in sand which he deems going too far cause even tho Padme literally couldn’t care less 

He tracked her down and kept her in a headlock until she admitted defeat 

It wasn’t a chocking headlock mind you it’s just tight enough to keep her in place he just drags her around the whole base while he goes about his business 

Anakin’s prank was pretty simple he would slowly steal all her head wraps 

At first she didn’t notice anything she just thought Anakin stole one during training and put it somewhere 

But after a couple of days of not being able to find it she discovers another one went missing 

And the cycle continued like that for years 

It didn’t bother her but sometimes when she was going out with friends and couldn’t find her favorite ones you’d hear her scream “Ani where’s my leather head wrap?” 

And he’d act all innocent saying that he “has no idea what you’re talking about snips maybe you misplaced it again” 

And she’d groan and go look for a different one because she didn’t have enough time to interrogate him 

Anakin waits a couple of years to pull off his full prank which is convincing everyone he can to wear one of her head wraps and act like nothing is going on 

And he gets a good amount of people too including some of the clones and even the twins 

The only people who wholeheartedly reject being a part of the plan are Padme and Obi-Wan they discovered years ago that it isn’t wise to get involved in their prank war 

Honestly Ahsoka would have thought she lost her mind that day if she hadn’t found every single head wrap she lost hidden around her quarters 

It kind of becomes a running joke of how protective Anakin is of Ahsoka 

Some stories being blown out of proportion about how Skywalker single-handedly moved the ruble to grant her freedom form the tank 

Some say how he searched on the ground day and night when Ahsoka was captured by the hunters 

Criminals claim they barely made it out with their lives if they had Ahsoka in their custody 

They both find these stories hilarious but Obi-Wan and Padme know there is a lot of truth in those stories 

It doesn’t just stop with the enemy either this man has and will do intensive background checks on every single person Ahsoka meets 

And you best believe that potential love interests are kept under the closest watch possible 

Rex and his boys are happy to track down the person if they feel they’re acting a little sketchy 

Sometimes this ends with actual criminals being put away and sometimes this ends with Ahsoka scolding everyone who had anything to do with it 

Some people get 30+ apology letters and a promise that it will never happen again (most of those people can tell those letters were written with grit teeth and a little togruta standing close by)

Anakin does agree to tone down his protective streak and promises to never abuse his power like that again 

She didn’t make him stop giving the shovel talk to literally anyone within a three-mile radius of her (mostly cause she didn’t know he was doing it) so he considered that a win

I’m always reminded of how Anakin made it a game to count how many people their squads took out and I was wondering what other games they had 

How many times could they lie to the council without getting caught, how many times they crash a ship, and how many times they save each other's lives 

Like imagine Ahsoka tripping Anakin and before he can ask why the hell she did that a blast hits the floor and she just goes “That’s 40 for me” as she runs away 

Anakin yelled after her “yeah 40 to my 80 snips” 

Those numbers also serve as a reminder and reassurance that no matter how dangerous the situation gets they’ll never let that count stop

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 12: Separated

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: graphic descriptions of war injuries and medical solutions, angst, light banter, confused Ani, Obi hurtin' :(, special guest 👀, guilty reader, Cody my bff, allusion to self-sacrifice, Ahsoka doing her best, wow everyone needs like so much therapy.

Summary: When the Republic's secret medical station becomes the Separatist's next target, you, Anakin, and Obi-Wan are forced back together from across the Galaxy to confront the threat. However, as you lead your end of the charge, distractions of the weeks prior cloud your thoughts and coerce you to confront the culminating impact of Qui-Gon's death. Hoping for a distraction from the consequent blunders, you try to focus on the mission at hand. Until an unexpected force's personal journey compels you to deeply reflect on your own.

Song Inspo: I Lost a Friend — FINEAS

Words: 12.8K

A/n: I'M ALIVEE. Apologies for the lengthy hiatus. Life got really crazy but I'm back with some more of ✨The Guardian✨ (and I'm going to start working on the requests in my inbox soon I promiseee!). Remember to comment with what you want to see in future chapters. Enjoy!

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

For these words of good, evil, and contemptible are ever used with relation to the person that useth them: there being nothing simply and absolutely so; nor any common rule of good and evil to be taken from the nature of the objects themselves — Thomas Hobbes

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan huffed impatiently from the convergence on the Negotiator’s bridge, arms folded neatly across the chest as he absorbed with purposefully raking eyes the striking, streaky holocomm image of his former Padawan’s excited upper torso.

The azure image sheepishly fluttered against the backdrop of glowing round sensors and flashing rectangular buttons. Their various configurations and proportions formulating the prismatic hemicircle control panel which stretched out beneath the trapezoidal viewport, evenly segmented to swallow the far wall. An enveloping frame that transformed the barrier into an existence of distant, flickering stars amidst an endless, jet-black mass that hardly distinguished it as a wall at all.

At least, not to Obi-Wan.

To the Master Jedi, it was an unseen path. A blindness rallying Force-sensitives’ reliance on the all-encompassing flow that had always guided his each and every move. Yet, there was such a thing as being too far out to sense its intricate indications of a war that spanned countless parsecs. And that meant, even to a Jedi with a warship each straddling his spearlike class leader, a Galactic war could pose quite the surprise at any turn.

And fuel a steady disquiet in moments like these, when the Force felt awfully clouded by an imperceptible numbness.

Though that was far from the main distraction drawing Master Kenobi’s heavily pointed eye beyond his maneuvering lips.

“You simply cannot be late to an emergency meeting you yourself called.”

“My bad, Master,” Anakin expelled.

Though his neck remained creaked downwards with baby blue eyes flicking side-to-side, acting as tight straws siphoning in information beyond Obi-Wan’s view. Each beat punctuated by the Jedi’s shoulders subtly gesturing alongside hand movements inputting far-off data. And just as smoothly as the Chosen One’s mind navigated the rolling screens Kenobi had imagined he was negotiating, the self-assured former Padawan still seemed to effortlessly communicate the situation at hand.

“Ahsoka and I had to get the strike force out and moving toward Grievous’s ship first. We might not have as much time as we thought.”

“Oh?” Obi-Wan hummed while curiously eyeing the young Jedi, brows shifting from unease at his words as once crossed arms released to their respective, comfortably postured sides. “Care to share?”

“Still waiting on one more invite to this meeting,” Anakin explained, invisible fingers finally allowing forearms to rest as his shoulders relaxed into a slump, followed by a fluttering blue gaze now attentively rising toward the bearded Jedi.

Odd, Kenobi mused. Usually Anakin’s last-minute calls either involved relaying information vital to the war efforts or, in most cases, a change of plans— either of which Obi-Wan could easily pass along through the necessary channels. Rarely did it necessitate others’ involvement. And it surely couldn’t have included another Council member, since they would’ve arrived in an earlier fashion as the Master Jedi himself.

“Who?” Obi-Wan questioned.

But before Anakin even had a chance to release his jaw in response, a new holographic swirled into existence beside him, completing the triangle of bodies with a deep-bellied thrum.

A similarly flickering, cobalt specter whose back revealed the robed figure’s linen-wrapped arms and legs and lightly armored shoulders leisurely swiveled to face the holocomm’s emitter. Yet, despite the uniform tinge that consumed all such holographic images, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but divert his trailing gaze up their wears onto the set of sharp, gleaming eyes that secreted a hint of silver.

And after a brief pause in which those very same eyes adjusted to the forms before them, an inkling of once quirked lips and lifted cheeks trickled into a singular expression of finished neutrality and professionalism.

One too novel to be shared among friends.

“Master Kenobi,” you nodded simply.

Obi-Wan’s steady chest faltered with an uncomfortable celerity.

It’d been only a week or so since he’d seen you last. Even longer since Obi-Wan left you in your quarters that evening following the surprise ambush on Lanos. And, now that he thought about it, likely two weeks since the bearded man began to notice how the air between you two grew more delicate as your tactful efforts to mold a parrying dullness swelled into a steady rainfall.

A fortnight since you appeared to have misplaced his first name.

It was as subtle as standing on the opposite side of a leadership meeting, deliberately placing yourself between two clones who’d naturally allow the General a respectful gap between himself and the Regiment. It was the conscious avoidance of the Negotiator’s refractory whenever Kenobi experienced a rare chance to sit down for a meal, or the decision to reside on the mirror end of the chamber when he was present. And it was the one time you did finally engage with him a few days later during a system strategy meeting that took place by way of a similar holocomm exchange.

“Master Yoda expressly stated that King Katuunko would only allow the alliance negotiations between himself and the Senator representative on Rugosa to continue as long as a Jedi emissary was present,” Master Plo Koon continued neatly with his black, patchwork eye guards trained on General Kenobi.

“Don’t the Toydarians know we don’t have the manpower for a babysitter?” Anakin rather agitatedly expressed, nostrils flaring into his thick eyebrows as if repulsed by a pungent smell. “Even if we did send someone, it would be no use to them.”

“For once, I must agree with my former Padawan,” Obi-Wan lyrically vocalized with a hand subconsciously motioning at the idea. “I highly doubt that a Jedi would rival a trained senator in the exercise of diplomacy.”

“I can go, Master!” Ahsoka piped up brightly from her Master’s rear with lifted eyelashes and gently shaken montrals. “I mean, if it’s just a Jedi that needs to be there, I can do that.”

Anakin glared at the young Togruta with thinned lips, deliberately crossing his arms and angling to the side all to firmly mutter a simple command:

“Not now, Snips.”

“I’ll go.”

Obi-Wan’s head whipped toward your once noiseless form stood a few meters off from him, staring into the collection of holograms opposite its emitter with a steely creed buttressing each syllable as dancing, sapphire illuminations molded interlacing shadows to distort your countenance.

“That seems appropriate,” Master Plo readily spouted, head nodding neatly in agreement while his charcoal antiox breath mask bobbed along otherwise elliptically sculpted, ochre features.

But what Master Plo did not yet know, was that beyond this political snafu, Obi-Wan too had his own ongoing obligation to manage. The task of integrating The Guardian into the Order while ensuring their protection from dark forces who were sure to take action if they’d learned of your identity, and what that meant. A danger so great, that Master Yoda had yet to decide on how to inform the rest of the Council about its development. And with that, came the task of keeping you as far away as possible from blackened powers so to guarantee such a calamitous future never saw the light of dawn.

So, considering your state of being in the days prior, more than ever did Obi-Wan sense your disregard for these concerns from such an offer.

It was the wrong time for you to be going off on your own. And Obi-Wan had a responsibility to make that known.

“Silvey has been assigned by the Council to assist me with my Regiment,” he countered quickly, bolstered by a charged arc, yet even tread. “I do not believe I can do without them at this moment. They are also recovering from an injury during one of our most recent run-ins with the Separatists, which I’m sure requires more time to heal.

But not even the seasoned Jedi himself was truly prepared for the sheer impersonality of your businesslike regard as you twisted toward his form with an expressive detachment that, when compared to the prior months, rendered you unrecognizable to his vigilant, cerulean eyes.

“Master Kenobi,” you spoke evenly. “My leg is healed enough after a few days with a bacta patch. And I trust that you’ll be able to carry out the rest of this mission without me.”

Your true stare remained levied on his gaze as a hushed exhale fell past your lips. So placidly, that were Obi-Wan’s attention not solely focused on your next words, he would’ve certainly missed the faint wobble coloring its receding steps.

“I’m putting in a formal request to be temporarily transferred to Rugosa so to aid in their negotiations.”

Even now, a week later on the Negotiator’s bridge when faced with two Jedi dialing in from thousands of parsecs away, Obi-Wan recalled the tenuous stiffness that tugged at his breastbone in that moment. The sinking weight accompanying his realization made right then and there:

That his efforts to keep you nearby so to have any hope of acting as a barrier between you and the dark forces watching from the shadows was only forcing you to yank farther away from his necessary observation.

Maybe that’s why, for the sake of your future collaboration,

For your budding friendship,

The Master Jedi settled to meet you where you were at. To give in to exactly what you were pressing for in order to ensure your safety.

To give you… space.

It was with restraint equal to your own, Obi-Wan remembered, with which he approved the request. Respectfully downcast eyes and a simple nod had sent you on your way later that very same day, along with a small group of clones led by the reputable Commander Cody. The only clone in General Kenobi’s Regiment that he truly trusted to keep an eye on you in his place.

And a soldier the General knew would follow any carefully communicated instructions to the letter.

Still, Obi-Wan hadn’t predicted that it would take this long to cross paths with you again.

“You look well,” Kenobi expressed with scant ineptitude, granting enough freedom to the interval in between your spoken word and his to give pause to Anakin’s freshly perceptive expression, which raised a curious brow at the duo.

“The negotiations are wrapping up nicely,” you formally relayed, seemingly ignoring Skywalker’s questioning bearing in favor of communicating a timely report. “My squad and I are cleared for departure and may rendezvous with The Negotiator whenever it’s convenient.”

“That’s good timing, because we’ve got a problem,” Anakin butted in, suspiciously shifting gaze left to the wayside in favor of narrowed brows that was the Chosen One’s signature expression of solemnity. “Grievous’s warship attacked a convoy of medical transports near Ryndellia. We think he’s after Kaliida Shoals.”

“The medical center?” Obi-Wan questioned with thinly veiled surprise. “Anakin, that facility was supposed to be a secret. How did the Separatists learn of its existence?”

“I don’t know,” Skywalker echoed. “But they know about it now. My squad of Y-wings are taking a shortcut, but I’m not sure if we’ll get there in time.”

“I’ll contact the Naboo to request their assistance and let the facility know that I’m on my way as well,” Obi-Wan assured.

“Warn them of my arrival too,” you promptly raised, drawing Kenobi’s attention to ambivalently narrow at your words.

Though that did little in the way of stifling your stride.

“I’m closest so I’ll help with the evacuations. There’s probably an extra fighter here that I can borrow since we have so many protecting the negotiations. That way I can get there before the Naboo fleet.”

You nodded to yourself, seemingly appreciating the evolving plan as it swirled into existence past still-moving lips. "My clone squad will follow behind with a larger ship to supplement the facility’s escape shuttles.”

“No Silvey,” Obi-Wan voiced, tongue fluttering your name for the first time in a while. “That will bring you quite close to a Separatist leader. Something Master Yoda has advised you to avoid.”

He raised an emphatic brow, even restraining his voice as if an empty room of swirling sensors and buttons could decipher its meaning.

“We have your identity to think about.”

“The risk is low,” you expounded toward the bearded Jedi unflinchingly. “I doubt General Grievous has any desire to contact that facility directly.”

Then, while a touch of uncertainty skidded by upturned eyelashes, your hands rolled into a shrug as you twisted to address both men equally.

“Either way, isn’t this why I was requested to join this meeting? Because of my proximity?”

“Silvey’s right, Obi-Wan,” Anakin posited, angling toward the cerulean-eyed Jedi’s less-than-merry gaze. “They’re our best chance at getting the facility evacuated in time before the ion weapon arrives.”

Master Kenobi couldn’t help how Anakin’s unfortunately reasonable words delivered a feeble pinprick to his adeptly impartial posturing, breaching the seal for a taste of his inner thoughts to leak out in the form of a finely charged sigh that expelled through set nostrils. Stiff fingers reaching to stroke the corners of his auburn beard as if to draw out the rest of the swelling frustration that narrowed cobalt orbs into tapered brows.

And from the chilly, detached churn of your sideways peer at his form, Obi-Wan could still markedly discern that, no matter the stony stance you attempted to elicit by pitching your arms akimbo, the veiled fashion with which you chewed at your inner lip exposed just how stubborn you remained to his argument. Even when the cogs of your mind turned in a direction opposite to your body.

Though, in which bearing, he did not know.

“Uh, did I miss something?” Anakin suddenly queried, lips parted slightly while he puzzledly peaked at you both.

Yet by the way in which your glittering silver eyes cast asunder from his own, chest rising as you deeply inhaled into its discomfited crevice with a mind reflecting focus on some other Rugosian movement, Obi-Wan understood that this was perhaps a poor time to concentrate on such a subject.

“Fine, I’ll inform Nala Se of your arrival,” Obi-Wan yielded as his shoulders relented his beard-stroking arm to the side, all while your ever-watchful gaze returned to his. “But bring your squad along. They will be unable to aid you if left to follow along in a slower ship.”

“Time is of the essence, Master Kenobi,” you straightly reminded. “The fighters on Rugosa are the fastest transports available, but they only have room for a copilot at most.”

“Then take Commander Cody,” the elder Jedi practically ordered.

Obi-Wan watched as the ligaments in your throat twitched from your quiet swallowing.

“Yes… General,” you acquiesced with delicately raised brows pitched over lips pursed illusively.

Yet that retort appeared to only heighten the incontrovertible befuddlement that nearly furrowed Anakin’s brows into his monitoring baby blue eyeballs.

“Alright,” Obi-Wan expelled before his former Padawan had the chance to probe any further through loose lips. “Our main mission is to protect that facility. We all know our part. Comm this channel with any updates.”

Roping his hands to fold back into each other against a straightened spine, the Master Jedi ended the meeting of quivering blue, holographic streaks and notably disparate impressions with one last memento.

“May the Force be with you both.”

—

No matter the weightlessness of your footsteps, your treading boots still kindled soft, echoing thumps like an infant flame as you traversed the narrow, cubic hallway that led to the medical center’s main command. That, of course, meant Commander Cody’s comparably lumbering stride resonated with a vigor that supplied an unforgettable reminder of the facility’s smooth, metal construction like a chronometer. With its reflective navy floors, rusting chalk walls, and highly collaged paneling, it was a wonder how the normal bustle expected in such a regional hub wouldn’t generate an endless barrage of clamoring turbulence.

A testament to the VenteX Construction Yards’ quality technology, according to the short facility report you perused during the brief journey here.

Thank you, Cody, you hoped to say once more. From what you learned in Rugosa, he always seemed to be prepared. And that meant, so were you.

Still, you weren’t ready to bestow praise upon such talented, Republic builders just yet. It was instances like these, in which overwhelming silence subsumed your surroundings like a vacuum sucked out air, and in which a ticking beat centered the mind as would an ancient meditation tool, that you found yourself left with something you were really trying to avoid.

Your thoughts.

It was quite the adjustment, you were beginning to realize. Transitioning from a life of static, icy days to an existence among so many different kinds of beings.

A life of unfamiliarity,

Of war,

And death.

So, so much death.

And it seemed like it only took seizing those experiences in their rawest form and stabbing them into your cerebral cortex like a hammer to a cold, rusty nail for that very catalyst to coerce you into considering their verity, arriving in stillness like a strong gust that stifles breath into unavoidable, beating ruminations.

It compelled you, to finally register, to truly internalize, that Qui-Gon was gone.

Just like Getter, and just like that creature of purity.

Your friend, was gone.

And, in that moment, whatever tiny piece of childlike hope, whatever illogical thought about his return that remained all this time in the deepest crevices of your mind, seemed to disappear too.

You truly were alone.

Until Obi-Wan appeared.

In one of your most conflicting hours, in which you were coming to terms with your Master’s death and the consequences of such a fact, he placed a hand atop your fist. He lifted your chin from troubling thoughts.

And he caressed your hand—

No, you internally adjusted, slightly shaking your head to loosen that particular memory from your mind as your well-adjusted footfalls carried you away from the stiffly wrapped wall paneling by which it fell.

Because you just couldn’t do it.

At least, not right now.

You enjoyed Obi-Wan’s company, you thought. Appreciated his mind, and respected his character. All factors that contributed to the growing friendship you sensed budding between the two of you.

And it was for that exact reason that, in a knee-jerk reaction, you pulled away.

Your mission was Anakin. Guarding the Chosen One. You couldn’t afford the clouded nature your mind embraced as you journeyed through Qui-Gon’s death. And that meant you couldn’t sustain another.

You needed to wait. Felt compelled to temporarily lock the gate to your strengthening fellowship. For, in this unpredictable time of war, if you’d lost him too, your last connection to Qui-Gon, alone would fail to describe the depth with which you’d feel disconnected from the Galaxy.

But, even as you passed through the last charcoal archway into the command center’s grimy white staging area of encompassing red and silver panels and rambunctiously flashing buttons, the new atmosphere failed to in any way hinder the invariably thrumming shame that churned your gut and shifted your demeanor. As you stood beyond the handful of medical clones rushing commands with expertly trained fingers through the computerized workstations lining the rear wall, such excitement too was futile in impeding the elusive hurt that swam behind his cerulean eyes in those memories of avoiding his approaches, attempts at conversation, or dependably questioning gaze.

No matter, for now, with two feet easing into a standstill before the medical officer ranked highest by three red dots hugging his white-draped sleeve and the superior Kaminoan with similar garb wrapped below a protracted neck, you could take comfort in the fact that such a circumstance would never be the case with Anakin.

In all likelihood, considering your position, you’d be the first to go in the line of duty protecting him. He’d always be there while you were around.

At least Obi-Wan was right about that.

“Nala Se, my name is Silvey—“ you uttered clearly, relying on the familiarity of her pearly white complexion and metallic, oval head medallion from your temporary right hand’s report.

Speaking of.

“—and this is Commander Cody,” you nodded at the soldier stood firmly beside you. "We’re here to assist you in any way we can to usher along these evacuations.”

The Chief Medical Scientist of Kamino’s towering figure offered a gradual, appreciative nod which moved as seamlessly as her blackened eyes creased in regard.

“Silvey, Commander Cody,” she acknowledged with an almost regal air and buttery tone. “Master Kenobi informed us of your arrival.”

You bit at your inner lip as a subtle twinge of an already swirling gut twisted at the raw nerves like a freshly seared burn. Though you swiftly brushed it aside, all in favor of absorbing Nala Se’s speech which echoed with congruence to this mission.

“We appreciate having another Jedi here to aid us.”

And it was a good thing you were focusing that weening attention, too, because this was certainly unexpected news.

“Another Jedi?” You questioned aloud while still supporting the movement of your lips atop businesslike breath. “This is great to hear, but, I thought I was the Jedi closest to this facil—“

“—Sectors C, F, and J are ready for transport.”

You barely caught the echo of nimble footfalls that preceded the adolescent voice which rang with a tone leveled only to communicate with clarity, yet tempered beyond any hint of vociferation.

A lick of curiosity hoisting your ears, you comfortably twisted toward the articulation’s source as Cody followed suit beside you, only for silver eyes to land upon a strangely familiar sight…

Teeth-like horns mirrored down their skull tattooed with curving lines and sharply jagged arrows.

Characteristics too similar to that unknown thing. That devil being from your dreams of weeks ago that, no matter how much you tried, you couldn’t seem to forget, even when faced with an inkling of similarity that most would not discern.

“Thank you, Mill,” The Chief Medical Officer approved as her arms crossed into a lock behind her pencil-slimmed figure.

“I’ll head to the next set as fast as I can,” Mill expressed confidently.

Yet your thoughts only mulled over that point for a short time. Because as your purposed gaze trailed across other features, like the short tuft of jet black tied just behind her head, the swirling Force encircling her nut-brown vested and ivory-robed being, and the very noticeable limitations of her stature, you quickly realized that this was the Jedi Nala Se spoke of.

But with that also came the observance that this Jedi appeared to be—

“A youngling?” Commander Cody doubted with faintly mixing unease as his hesitant stare drew the lips below into an unlatched slump.

And it was that not-so-subtle oratory that sprung the young Jedi’s button-sized orbs to bounce toward you both, remaining equally unaffected as investigative of the new presence your figures fueled into the surrounding Force.

“Master Jedi Rig Nema and her Padawan Mill Alibeth were recently assigned to this outpost as our Jedi Liason,” Nala Se explained calmly from behind your turned figure. “Although the Healer was temporarily called away a few days ago. It was urgent. I believe to an off-world battle site deemed too dangerous to bring Mill along.”

“Mill,” you expressed to the observing Jedi. “I’d be honored to help you carry out the rest of the evacuations while my Commander aids Nala Se in the remainder of the planning.”

Your straightforward regard quickly flicked both silver orbs toward Cody who was still situated at your side, earning from the attentive Commander a nodding salute to your orders before you refocused that attention on the young woman before you.

“That is,” you progressed with utmost openness. “If you’ll have me.”

Enough to tug a small smile from the Jedi’s stoically taught mouth.

“I could really use the help,” she replied honestly, which lifted your own cheeks as you broke your stance and moved toward the Jedi who stood a few meters away.

“Many of the injured need help and instructions on how to get to the shuttles,” Mill continued with an earnestness that defied the essence of her youthful voice, like a creature who's lived an entire life through glories and hardships in only a few seconds.

“It’s important to note, Silvey,” the Kaminoan opined from the center console, inciting you to halt just as you reached Mill’s being to turn toward the Chief Medical Officer’s words. “We may not have enough shuttles to evacuate the facility’s full complement.

“Let me worry about that, Silvey,” Commander Cody piped up as he shuffled beside Nala Se to take a peek at the data screen emanating below her fingers with focusing brows. “We’ll find a way to make do and get these boys to safety. We have another ship on our tail ready to board as soon as they land.”

You nodded gratefully.

“Here,” Mill cleanly expelled while leaning into a smooth yet charged pace toward the Command Center’s primary exit, leading you to follow along as you passed under that same charcoal-tinted arch into the eerily stagnant hall. “I’ll show you which sectors still need to be evacuated.”

You barely hid the subtle quirk of your lips that momentarily lifted your features as you kept your gait swiftly ahead.

Despite Commander Cody’s assumption that the Jedi careening evenly beside you was simply a Youngling, it remained a struggle to grapple with that preconceived notion. You had to admit that there were few and far between opportunities to engage with peers when you were her age, but that didn’t prevent you from surmising Mill a Being well beyond her years. Still, you tried not to consider why for too long. For no reason other than she, in some ways, reminded you of yourself during those times.

You remembered quite well the experiences you inescapably traversed to develop similar mannerisms. And beyond all else, you understood that independence born out of necessity always craved a modicum of guidance.

At least, that’s what you recalled.

And it was clear that Mill could handle it.

“Have your lightsaber ready,” you advised while the two of you careened around a sharp corner in your trek down the station’s winding passageways. “It comes in handy when you need to lead the way. Especially for large groups.”

A flurry of shuffling, pearly fabric flitted through the air as a duo of medical clones with mahogany brown boots squeaked by you both before disappearing down a left coordinator in a rush that left a slight breeze. All the while you sensed an uneven crinkle shimmy into the Force’s very own cloth as if the slightest touch tugged a loose thread.

“I don’t have one.”

Your once hurried pace drained into a muddled falter, expressive brows stitched into genuine confusion as you angled to fully face the young Jedi. At that same instant, your probing gaze tracked Mill’s depleting drive, siphoned away from a once urgent gate and into a withstanding regard of some tolerant shade. Only leaving heavily relaxed facial muscles as the framing sight from Padawan Alibeth who similarly eyed you head on.

Though you were not yet intimidated.

“Really?” You genuinely inquired, once again asking yourself whether you were showing your lack of knowledge of modern customs. “I thought the ritual of The Gathering happened when a Jedi was still in Initiatehood.”

Yet the slight but unyielding tilt of one addled brow upwards on her otherwise collected expression did thrust you back one mental step to reassess what you’d so impulsively uttered.

“You say that as if you’d not seen them yourself,” Mill expounded, a slight smile crawling up her cheeks to erase any previous hint of uncertainty. “It’s hard to miss the loud groups bouncing down the Temple halls every season.”

You mirrored her expression with a nearly tickled one of your own as you clawed onto the escape Mill had somehow so expertly plopped straight into your palm.

“I’ve been away on a very long mission that spanned on before the war began,” you casually delivered, motioning your hand in the air in place of a shrug. “I suppose it hasn’t helped me in the way of keeping up with current practices.”

You raised your head toward the corridor’s main stretch that tunneled to a turbolift, breathing in the heightened energies spattered throughout the medical station as the sensation drove you to hastily renew your step, like a starship sucking on hypermatter fuel that tugged on Mill to tag along with an invisible lure. A mixing pot of swirling anticipations of what was to come, and a general unease of impending doom that reminded you all too well of the potential conflict had against these Separatist forces if you didn’t reach the appropriate sectors soon.

You exhaled. “And it hasn’t warned me of this Galactic contest’s nature.”

“That’s why I can’t have one,” Mill quickly related, thoughtfully gripping at your attention as she kept pace with each and every step you took to reach the turbolift.

Marking too the first instant you felt a hint of misgiving tempt the flow around you.

As an almost tranquil silence bloomed between you both, you each entered the contraption’s silvery-clear aperture that swirled open at your very presence. It was evident among those slight shuffling and intermittent creaks from an overused transport system, that there were still many words Mill was leaving unsaid. Trapped inside her thoughts much like how the wall of transparisteel at the turbolift’s rear blockaded the vacuuming essence of space from your comparably flimsy forms. Still, such musings did little to stop her from selecting the correct floor on the rusted button panel, clearing the doors to shut, and initiating your leveled descent.

But it was only like that for a moment longer.

“If it’s true that you were gone for all this time, then you didn’t see what I saw,” she released quietly, eyes drilling holes into the turbolift’s aged panel as the soft buzz of its mechanics grayed the silence. “The aftermath of Geonosis. The battles that followed. Maybe you didn’t even see the HoloNet News.”

Mill shook her head with an involuntary drag, rocking her neck as a mother would a crib while the visceral words flowed from her.

“All that blood. The pain. Anguish felt through screens and wires. Through medical encampments. Those people. The ones the Order is suppose to protect. I can see it all.”

“All of it?” You questioned lightly, keeping your eyes respectfully ahead to provide a modicum of space for the young Jedi whose stirring mind was beginning to flower open.

“Each emotion for me…” she twisted her knuckles as if wringing a towel, eyes focused on the nothingness of the solid turbolift ahead. “It’s like a color that’s part of an unbalanced rainbow. And anytime one shows through the Force, I can feel it like a scream in an empty room.”

Until those same button-brown eyes rounded toward your own, burrowing into your very being.

“And every time, in some way, it’s all at the hands of a lightsaber.”

You couldn’t help but hear the distant voice of Qui-Gon Jinn echo through your skull as you absorbed Mill’s eloquent words that swiped one more shallow cut across your understanding of this strange world.

“Only use violence as a last resort, my young Padawan.”

It was clear that holobooks, well-stocked libraries, nor storied pasts would aid you now in understanding how to apply that particular guidance since you’d witnessed Hoth’s sunset for the last time.

All you’d known of the Galaxy was from fantastical holobooks describing the High Republic, but all you’ve known since crowned a Jedi Knight was violence, demise, and despair.

Deep in your bones, you still resonated with the Order’s teachings learned from your former Master and the occasional old-style book he’d bring during his visits, and of course the lightsaber’s symbol throughout history. But for the life of you, there seemed to be no way to truly reveal such truths to a being who’d clearly experienced this time of chaos far longer than you. 

“This is not the era I grew up in,” you expressed earnestly, sensing the turbolift slow as a gentle pressure built at your heels like the squeeze that threatened your throat to uncomfortably swallow. “I’m sorry, Mill, that this is what you’ve learned to associate with the Order.”

And just as quickly as those utterances escaped your lips, a dearth of words sucked the air dry.

Because there was nothing else either of you could say.

—

“Alright!” You ringingly called out from the anterior of the chilly sectional recovery hall, drawing the balloon of deep-set, chatting echoes to sputter into an empty husk. The snow-white medical beds evenly distributed against the walls with the occasional cabinet and sporadically placed stone-tinted, blocky armchairs were brimming with disparately injured clones, all of which swiftly angled their attention toward you and Mill who stood quietly by your side as she gazed out at the crowd through a subtle frown.

You tried to keep your eye on the task at hand, mentally calculating how long this evacuation would need to successfully usher out the countless heads beholding you with bated breath for orders, including the small groups that stood at attention in various pockets of the hall the instant you made yourself known. But even though the medium-sized pathway striking through the room’s core offered any flitting gaze a moment of solace from the surrounding carnage, it was not enough of a centering force for your observant mind, which fixated on those scattered, recuperating soldiers who’d so clearly been dealt an inferior hand. 

One on the far left sported a thick bandage, wrapped firmly around his corner head all the way down to the eye. And had you not once employed such an old fashioned device in your past, you would’ve thought they were all manufactured to be a crimsoned red. Much like the cuts and scrapes dispersed across visible patches of skin like paint splatter.

The flick of your eye to the room’s other far side, and you couldn’t help but rake your silver stare up and down a clone who’d scurried upwards with the aid of a dodgily constructed cane of metal scraps and angled bolts the moment your resonant voice chimed through the room. It wasn’t until he raised fully that you noticed the black ligature wrapped tightly above one of his knees, and the nothingness that remained below. It just wasn’t there.

His leg. It was gone.

And all he had left to say for it was another arm in a sling that appeared exquisitely clean against the bloodied gauze decorating the hall’s bodies and swipe-stained floors, leaving an eerie odor that only appeared in the Force as a steady pulse of yanking anguish.

Yet still he chose to stand as those with lesser injuries opted to do. To show you a respect you were beginning to wonder if you really deserved.

Though it was easy for a mind thrumming with the ebb and flow of a weighted chest to wander toward that conclusion in any regard. It was fermented more potent by the swirling uncertainty of what to do with Obi-Wan, and the guilt that pushed through the dirt like budding shrubbery.

It was exactly why you needed to accept that guilt, you reasoned. It was what you had to do to center in on the mission at hand. To prevent another lapse in focus like you did when Qui-Gon clouded your thoughts on the battlefield not so long ago.

But the crumbling wall of words that fell like boulders into a lake as they rocketed away from each exchange you shared with Obi-Wan crashed as loud in your mind as did the splash of those heavy rocks.

How are you to focus on the next mission you’re lumped together on? What of when you’re forced to discuss those parts of yourself only a handful of beings know? And when Anakin becomes the topic of discussion, and your eternal tether to him, how will you protect him by pushing his Master away?

Thrusting him away as Mill had with her chance at a lightsaber. The chance at a supporting hand. At something she needn’t fear. And a device, a piece of herself, that if she remained without, would make the trials the young Padawan was bound to face down the road much worse.

Then you were making things worse, you considered fleetingly.

And if in any way you were putting The Guardian’s mission at risk from such decisions, then maybe you really didn’t deserve the eyes of thousands of clones centered on you with an eminence of trust and respect.

But whether you earned it or not, still needed was this attention that accompanied the title of General to lead them to safety.

“Sectors K, L, and M,” you announced with a tight core, reaching your hand to your belt as you wrapped your fingers around the attached saber’s cold hilt.

Springing it free with a whoosh and empowering its gray luminescence to blind the air above you, you displayed its heated might before the hundreds of heads that seemed like mere dots within the six-story ship bay that was converted into a sort of field recovery station, towering in height and breadth beyond some of the larger ships you’d become acquainted with this past month and a half.

“We are evacuating the facility. I want Group 1, all able-bodied clones, to line up in the middle,” you projected, cutting your saber down center for all to clearly see as those who fell into the category sprung or lumbered to their feet with a steadily bustling clamor. “Group 2, men who are unable to move on their own, remain where you are.”

You waited a few moments, allowing these soldiers with patches for wound dressings, injuries dealt to less severe locations, and minimally broken or dislocated bones to bustle toward the central stream against squeaking floors before, handful by handful, the mass of gray-clothed patients turned forward in staggered arrays, most patiently awaiting their next command as whispers flowed by the line like sand through fingers.

“Now,” you began loudly, gesturing between the two groups with your brightly buzzing lightsaber as the mumblings dissipated. “Everyone partner with a person in the other group. Individuals in Group 2 who are unconscious or are otherwise completely bedridden will need two soldiers from Group 1 to take them out on a Hover Stretcher,” you confirmed with two raised fingers.

“Um, Silvey?”

You quickly glanced at Mill’s nervously stitched brows, eager eyes just as distended as her mouth with a battery of words stuck at the tip of her tongue. “We don’t have any more Hover Stretchers.”

It seemed this facility was running low on many necessary supplies during such a frantic evacuation, you marked internally.

Alright, you readily accepted. You’ve dealt with worse.

Your neck flicked back toward Group 1’s already parting sea as the endless line of clones split off to either side of the hall in search of a partner, morphing a once relatively uniform line into an expanding blob of varied, struggled movement.

“No more Hover Stretchers!” You exclaimed swiftly. “Use the bed sheets, or carry them if you have to. Make your way out through the South Entrance in a single file line.”

Raising your saber once more down the middle, you signaled the appropriate exit at the other end of the transformed ship bay.

“Move!”

With a deep breath, you disengaged your saber, keeping your gaze alert while returning it back to your belt with a metallic snap.

“Don’t worry,” Mill expressed calmly, dragging your vigilant survey away from the slingshotting voices reverberating off bordering panels that surrounded clones in various stages of gradually hooking arms with compatriots and carrying each other to the far wall. “We’ll get them all out.”

“I know, Mill,” you smiled gently, warming at her intrinsic compassion while tilting your eyes back toward the swarming clones to assess their progress as a handful began to exit through the South Entrance. “We’re doing well on numbers. I know you’d tell me if we weren’t.”

“Then why are you feeling… regretful?”

Your neck snapped toward the young Jedi, a flood of questions desperately trying to manifest through your features as you held the flood bag with a simply raised brow and a smile faded into tensed lips.

Not Master Jedi, not even a Grand Master, but a Padawan Learner? A Padawan learner was the first to sense a hint of what your mind autonomously hid in the Force? You knew for a fact that your countenance failed to divulge the deep harboring of such an emotion that you were still trying to discern as such.

“You can sense what I’m feeling?” You questioned, perplexed.

“Usually, I can sense a range with groups and people,” she began matter-of-factly, tensed brown eyes swaying toward the buzzing clones before you both. “But yours are pretty clouded. The only reason I can sense that one is because it’s pretty strong.”

Perhaps Mill Alibeth was not only a wise, but a powerful Jedi. And while you certainly sensed a stronger glow in her connection with the Force than others her age that you’ve encountered at the Temple, such a reading remained a speck of sand in an ocean when compared to the Masters who’ve tried again and again to dissect your mind.

Meaning one thing and one thing only.

Something must have changed.

Though what, you had no idea.

A charged yowl cracked through the air like the blast of a horn, reverberating down the hall as a noticeable thump sounded from the same general location before chasing after the dissipating cry into the void.

Your neck snapped toward the tumult’s direction before quickly discovering that the hastening throng of clones rushing past each other to pair up and race for the exit clogged your view of the wider hall from where you stood. Even as you tried to focus your mind on the beings around you, hoping to pinpoint the pain of that cry through the Force to find the afflicted’s position, you struggled to parse through the torrential flood of indistinguishable trauma that clouded your mind as much as your eyes.

Anguish. Agony. Fear. Vexation.

All eddying into a tempest of incomprehensible noise, like pouring every color known to the universe into one bucket of black hole goop.

“This way!” Mill suddenly shouted, grabbing your wrist to tug you along as she sprinted into the crowd.

Your feet caught up to the sudden charge, falling in step with the young Jedi’s hurried pace before she released your arm so that you both could navigate the thicker junctions of the whisking horde. All the while you took particular care in keeping an eye on the small, nut-brown cloak hanging off her back so as not to lose her darting figure in the crowd.

Arms snapped up against your shoulders and torsos collided with your arms while flying commands seemed to cultivate either eardrum as a doorway for the indiscernible racket, leaving you no choice but to adapt to the unstoppable swarm. With each duck and shimmy, you eventually settled into a rhythm through each twist and turn of the crowd. Waves of streaming bodies that crashed into interlocked, haphazard footpaths steered your figure through a slew of precise dodges, all the while you found your focused eye unintentionally memorizing the marginally bobbing hood of Mill’s robe so not to misplace her in the masses. And it was the exact instant that you realized such an intense stare had nearly burned the chaotic rush into your retinas, that the young Jedi finally burst through an opening in the rabble of soldiers fueling gusts of injured groans and strident cries amongst stampeding boots which plunged behind you once the horde finally spit you out.

Your silver eyes adjusted to the far emptier space hugging the hall’s right wall: a handful of medical beds mostly unoccupied and disarrayed with sheets crumpled and tossed asunder from the rapid charge of this evacuation.

That was, except for one bunk on which a clone lay curled into themselves, one hand firmly clutching their leg. Crying out, teeth bare to the ceiling with such might his torment was sure to break right through. It was certainly enough to heighten the two clones who frantically bent over to asses him from either side, wondering aloud through their countenance alone what to do and how to make the awful noise stop.

“What happened?” You pressed firmly, lips depressing into a thin line while you slowed at Mill’s side as the aura of his suffering inked the Force’s everlasting stream with an unavoidable, pounding strikes.

The left soldier spoke with a rich tone as his bushy eyebrows and speckled beard dimmed in anticipation of his own words.

“We tried to move him and his mechnosutures snapped.”

At the same time, you watched as the convulsing clone’s hand slipped from their inner thigh, revealing a deep crimsoned gash that spurted a miniature fountain of blood the instant its spout was uncapped. Splattering the outspoken clone still hunched to his left with a healthy spray across his gray tunic in the injured man’s effort to roll off the cot.

Your eyes widened, the sudden gush which consumed your vision ramming your legs into a full sprint before propelling you to nearly leap atop the gravely wounded man as you jammed two fingers into the humid cavity to cork the leak.

“Mill!” You called over your shoulder as you struggled to find and hold the bleed that oozed past your fingers with a steady, warm pulse. “Bacta spray!”

“We’re all out on this side of the station, sir!” The right clone sporting a young, bare face interjected just as Mill darted to your side.

“It’ll take too long for any one of us to make that trip,” the opposite soldier noted, brushing any remnant cerise droplets from his deep-stained shirt as he rose to his full height. “And he’s in no condition to be moved.”

You briskly sorted through your years of survivalism and relevant readings that supported your life of Hoth, gravely considering each and every option at your disposal to save this clone as his cries galloped after each other in their echoing race into the ether.

Because, despite the rapidly declining seconds you had left to solve a femoral artery bleed, you knew it was still more time than you had to save Getter.

It was still time in which you could do something.

No Bacta Spray, so perhaps a tourniquet.

“I need a thin rod and some bandages,” you spouted urgently. “Do we have anything like that?”

“There aren’t any medical supplies in this section at all,” Mill clarified nervously, rubbing her wrist as she briskly spoke. “The recovery rooms ran out of supplies last week. We were still in the process of transferring the new supply delivery throughout the facility when Nala Se ordered the evacuation.”

“I could give you my shirt,” the scruffy soldier suggested, pointing at his blood-soaked garment. “But I don’t know where we’ll find you any sticks.”

“Bandages alone won’t work,” you audibly exhaled, feeling the steady throb that would easily cut through a simple cloth.

“What about your lightsaber?” The cloaked Jedi inquired, pointing at the delicately hanging device strapped to your belt.

“Unfortunately, I need something thin,” you explained, eyes rapidly scanning your surroundings for anything even close to what you needed. “My lightsaber is too—“

You paused.

You hesitated because, with that comment, Mill may have certainly saved this man’s life.

But you knew from experience that this was going to really, really hurt.

“Men,” you ejected forcefully past the icy chill running down every nerve in your body, reaching your free palm to clasp the saber and disconnecting it with a clink from your side. 

“Hold him down.”

A steady thrum of timorous buzzes flickered into the Force to the left, luring your outwardly mollified gaze toward the apprehensive Jedi beside you who watched on with ever-widening eyes.

“You’re right, Mill,” you quietly expressed, redirecting your attention to the task with a gaze that lowered just as deliberately as your body fell into a deeper crouch beside the bedridden man whose entire life relied on the thread plugged by a few fingers.

Though your words seemed to crack her restless daze in half as she whipped her head toward you, short ponytail flying after the sudden movement.

“You’re right, that a lightsaber can harm,” you softly continued, flicking on the weighty device with a shockingly bright drone that emanated between you and the young Jedi, reflecting in her brown eyes like a distant star.

“It can kill with ease,” you gradually moved the weapon through the air, allowing its buzz to vibrate through the atmosphere as the hall’s glaring light reflected its hilt. “Elicit misery out of those who least expect it.”

You returned your conflicted stare back to the disoriented man stuck beneath your digits, neck twisting in and out of consciousness too rapidly to permit any awareness of where his miracle cure was coming from.

It was probably best that way.

Because, either way, this needed to happen. 

And it was that very notion that finally put into words what you’ve always felt about the Jedi’s most holy artifact. What you knew was true but struggled to explain to this Padawan all the same.

Until now.

“But you’re also right, Mill, that this same weapon will save him.”

You hovered the saber above the delirious clone’s wriggling form, held moderately still by the two soldiers on either side of him who seemed equally displeased with where this was going.

“It will be the opportunity to live another day. A healing energy to save the desperate. A bright light in the darkness.”

You paused, lowering the weapon to your side for just a moment, fingers still firmly held against the wound as you turned toward Mill as wholly as possible. Capturing her cautious gaze with your own meaningful stare.

“Because they aren’t good, and they aren’t bad, they just… are.”

You glared at its metallic shaft, crafted with great care and precision during your trip with Qui-Gon to Illum to collect your Kyber crystal. You observed its checkered black grip that snaked up the whole of the hilt, an intentional design you implemented to increase its resilience to Hoth’s cold nights. The triangular-shaped dent in the blade emitter from a particularly nasty run-in with a Wampa bite a few years back. The small puncture at the hand grip’s base, chinked by those pirates who stole it off you ages ago.

“They are their own Master,” your lips quirked gently. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

You peaked at Mill whose intent stare swirled with a galaxy of evolving thoughts, chest rising and falling through each breath solely motivated by comprehending your meaning.

“I alone can decide the purpose my lightsaber serves.”

You exhaled rigidly, circling toward the man clinging to life on the cot before you as you lifted the saber above his puncture once more with clenched teeth.

“And I choose to heal.”

With a heedfulness akin to threading a star cruiser through a pinprick-sized wormhole, you sunk the tip of the saber down toward the gash. Recoiling your blood-soaked fingers just as its gray luminance touched down on the spouting artery.

An overlapping murmur of groans from one chapped mouth swelled into a jarring shriek of intolerable magnitude as his vocal cords rawed at the sputtering roar. Saturating the Force with an incessant burden that threatened to collapse your sternum under its simultaneously consuming, draining anchor.

The scent of charred flesh smoked your nostrils as you observed pools of blood begin to blacken a charcoal brown alongside the bordering skin. And in that instant, you didn’t need to use your eyes to sense the young Jedi beside you shoot her hand to her forehead, clutching it fiercely as her eyes squeezed shut with a stinging gasp.

But soon, a subsiding energy overcame that temporary darkness that plagued the nearby Force Sensitives, like releasing a muscle strained into one, sun-beaten position for hours. It arrived with the shaky exhale that flickered past the maimed clone’s settling lips. Along with a sudden relief that oozed from his figure and infected his fellow comrades with similarly soothing sentiments.

“He has more time now,” you swallowed with sharp eyes pointed at the bordering clones as you rose to your feet. “Now get him out of here.”

The soldiers stood at the ready, acknowledging your request before promptly moving toward either side of the injured clone so to follow that very order.

“Yes, Sir!”

“Silvey,” Mill voiced while meeting your stance as the soldiers before you twisted the ends of the bedsheet in their fists to create a makeshift Hover Stretcher.

You eyed the Padawan whose conflicted gaze and curled brows twisted her jaw through a holobook of responses before settling on one that seemed to burst through all the others as a cough would stifle conversation.

“Now we’re running out of time.”

—

“It looks as though Skywalker has failed. He’s lost almost half his ships!”

The head Medical Clone’s vehemently unsettled tone aimed at Nala Se whipped past your ears in its journey as you and Mill led the last group of clones through the frantic energies swirling through the Command Center. It happened to house the getaway hatch to the last escape shuttle on board the medical station, beside your clone squad’s extra shuttle which had already been filled to capacity. And all that meant was that you were bound to receive an update on the battle unfolding beyond its walls whether you liked it or not.

Either way, your focus remained on leading the small batch of five to seven soldiers to the hatch’s entrance, one of which whose shattered kneecap obligated that an arm hung rigidly over your shoulders as you supported his weight through those final few limps.

And that was certainly not doing wonders for your own recently healed leg.

The Kaminoan’s advisor sighed drearily beside Commander Cody who watched on with an analytical gape over to your left as the advisor continued. “We should go, Madam.”

One more step and you reached the small, square hatch that stood from the floor no taller than your waist. Quickly scanning its side panel, you motioned for the other clone beside you to scoop his own grip under the injured clone’s armpit, enabling you to gently release him into his comrade’s company. Soon you accepted the lifting of that digging pressure as permission to drop down to the dingy panel clasped to the door so to input the release override.

“I will stay,” Nala Se tranquilly expressed as she turned to address the Lead Medical Clone.

“That won’t be in the clones’ best interests,” you cautioned swiftly, rising to your feet as the hatch whirred open behind you amidst a high-pitched beep and fogged-over emitter that struggled out dulled, red wisps. “You and your team should leave with this escape shuttle. The others will need someone to help coordinate the care for those more injured. More so than before considering the evacuation exacerbated their conditions.”

You observed with the corner of your eye as, one by one, the line of clones dropped to their knees so to shimmy through the tight-fitting hatch, aided by Mill who remained at each of their sides to support along those more mangled through the ingress. All throughout Nala Se’s carefully hidden hesitation fruitlessly defied your shrewd gaze.

“Silvey’s right, Madam,” Cody assuredly reminded. “With this last group, all the patients will have been evacuated. There’s no point in staying to find out what the other end of that giant Ion Cannon looks like when we already know it’ll kill life support and seal the escape hatches with the power surge.”

And despite the subtle rumblings of uncertainty that the Kaminoan frothed through the Force’s otherwise steady stream, the disappearance of the final soldier’s booted foot through the getaway hatch in combination with Cody’s loyal support of your stance seemed to sway her to respond.

“I will follow your guidance, Master Silvey.”

“Alright clones,” Cody called out while spinning around to the remaining staff furiously typing away at their stations, some standing like a string tugged at their tailbones while they moved through screens of defensive data as if to punch in one last key before being yanked away like a loose puppet. “Drop what you’re doing and load on that shuttle.”

The Commander calmly angled back toward Nala Se as the strings snapped and the puppets scurried free, his arm unfurling into a pointed finger toward the hatch entrance behind you.

“This way, Madam,” he instructed while the towering Kaminoan offered a gradually angled nod of acknowledgment.

You observed as the two of them cooly strolled forward with the Lead Medical Officer in his professional garb inching behind, all amidst the rushing forms and swiping legs of her remaining team shutting off workstation permissions before they made their final, fleeing departure.

Until the flinging movement of a small shape rising upwards caught the corner of your eye, all while an unexpected coolness invaded the Force from your left.

“I sense pain.”

You glanced strangely at Mill’s sudden revelation, taking in her crinkled eyelids while the nerves that twisted around her facial markings pulsed in concentration, palm cradling her vein-pulsed forehead.

“What is it, Mill?”

“There’s someone still here,” she coerced through crunching teeth. “Someone we forgot. They’re below us somewhere. Like a red blob.”

You caught the break of Nala Se’s once steady step from the corner of your eye, tugging at your gaze to serve her patent dithering with your full attention as if caught in the crossfires of a blaster bolt. Even the Commander seemed to take note of the acknowledging release of breath escaping your lips while he simultaneously focused on guiding the last few stragglers away from their stations with firm commands of “let’s go” and “leave it be.”

“Don’t worry,” you clearly conveyed to both Jedi and doctor before focusing your mind on the younger one’s concentrating gaze.

But, even with a turned head, your intrinsic intertwinement with the Force made it impossible to ignore the watchful eye of Commander Cody who reserved a slice of regard for you that more than tinted the everlasting stream.

“Mill, I’m counting on you to ensure this last group’s successful evacuation: Nala Se’s team and the patients in the escape shuttle. Work with Commander Cody. He will help yo—“

“But what about you?” She fiercely interrupted.

Cody finally cut in, “Silv—“

“—I’m going to get that soldier,” you promptly established as you twisted your neck toward the second-in-command who eyed you with oddly laden disquiet, firmed torso communicating the same inevitability to the young Jedi as well.

The words barely escaped your lips as you stormed toward the overhanging archway exit that would swallow you back into the space station’s bowels, heels fully contacting the metallic floor with each step to avoid any other objections of the matter with the all-to-familiar rhythmic clang.

But still, as the final swarm of clones swiveled around you like a parting sea to navigate toward the rear escape hatch, a light-footed figure seemed to cross that distance twice as fast with another heavier-set bunch clad in chaffing milky armor converging from the opposite angle.

“Silvey!” Mill called, swinging around to your side as you swiftly straddled your stride to avoid knocking over her fleeting form.

“I wanted to say… thank you,” she continued, the hint of a sigh crawling along her words as Cody’s striding figure levied its last few steps toward your right.

You quirked a brow at the young Padawan while stretching out a soft hand in signal of Cody to slow in wait. And you sensed him do as you willed, stuttering his gait to a halt like a ripple in the flow surrounding you as your head tilted with a slight curiosity amidst Cody’s respective silence. Still, your muscles stood taught as you prepared to sprint to the station’s lower levels at a moment's notice. Though even then it was a task to derive your focus away from Mill’s big brown eyes which churned with a form of tempered contemplation you’d not quite seen on the young girl before.

“—for showing me the bigger picture,” she continued in another breath, eyes levied at the ground as she worked through tumbling thoughts. “Anytime I felt pain I only saw it for what it was. Something uncomfortable. Something black and white. I didn’t see that some pain could be needed to heal. To do good.”

Mill’s hair flicked to the side as her chin swung back up toward yours with brows raised in relief.

“But saving a life makes it worth it.”

You remained with a steady gaze, relaxing your arms as shoulders released into an attentive expression that urged her to go on.

But with pursed lips that yelled move quickly.

“All this time,” she caught on with a push of breath. “When the Masters said that a Jedi’s life is sacrifice, I thought they meant what we were losing in this war. But it’s not that at all, is it?”

She got it.

You gently smiled.

“It’s what we go through, what we help others go through, to save them.”

Her brows crinkled into a conclusive regard that strained to loosen with the last three words she uttered.

"It’s our pain.”

You allowed for one more minute pause so her thoughts could settle before responding with your chin pointed teasingly downward, eliciting a warm tone.

“You’ll need a tool for that.”

Her lips settled upwards.

“The next Gathering is in a few months.”

And with an approving nod, you took off toward the archway once more. But not before swiveling into a backward pace with Cody following determinedly along so to relay one last piece of guidance that you nudged the young Jedi to carry with her through a gliding tone alone.

“May the Force be with you, Mill. Always.”

“I’m coming with you,” Cody began not a second later as Mill sprinted back toward the escape hatch while you whirled through the archway, the Commander hot on your heels.

“We’re running out of time, Cody,” you implied as you leaned into a jog that he so aptly followed with an armor-laden trot of his own. “I need you to follow orders.”

He spoke plainly, “I am following orders.”

“Well they aren’t mine,” you relayed through a sarcastic twinge that seemed to reach your not-so-healed leg under the weight of a running form.

“General Kenobi instructed me to keep an eye on you if this mission got dicey.”

Of course he did, you internally objected.

Yet you also couldn’t help the fleeting thought that Obi-Wan was jumping through hoops to ensure your safety while you avoided him at all costs.

And if Mill had the courage to take on the Gathering, to face that pain, then you must have, somewhere, in some deep crevice, some semblance of bravery to make allies of those who were sure to aid you in your sole mission.

Starting with that blue-eyed, bearded man.

But you couldn’t worry about that right now.

There was a life at stake.

You twisted on your heel toward the determined soldier, placing a firm hand on his shoulder as he ebbed to a stop against its resistance, stark chestnut orbs wrestling with the notion of failing to follow his General’s orders before your very eyes.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t always right.

“You will only slow me down,” you relayed earnestly, gradually lowering your arm when it was clear the clone’s attention was fully on you. “Jedi have a way of moving quicker and bringing you along will only threaten that man’s chances. If you want to help me, go make sure that shuttle leaves with everyone on it. You’ll still be following orders.”

The soldier’s lips parted ever so slightly as he took in your words, only to clasp shut while the commander’s mind accepted that you were, unfortunately, correct in your calculations.

Even with a sorely palpitating leg.

Still, it was clear from tensely pursed lips and only a brief glance over his shoulder at the command center that the loyal man had one more thing on his mind.

“What about you?” He inquired, confusion etching across his brows.

Your cheeks lightened.

“You’d know better than I, Commander,” you teased. “I distinctly remember you mentioning the handful of scattered single escape pods still located on the lower levels from when VenteX’s constructors needed a plan B during a plasma leak.”

The Commander’s eyes rounded in remembrance as an air of approval dusted off his subsequent nod. “Good catch, Silvey.”

He took a few strides to his rear, angling to jog back toward the Command Center as the determined man left you with one final promise.

"I’ll see you on the other side of this.”

And you certainly planned to keep that appointment.

But that meant drawing on the Force’s all-encompassing existence to guide your way.

You closed your eyes, reaching out your fingers to feel its comforting endlessness energize your veins like a tingling drone as you leaned into a sprint. Its volume remained gentler than the weeks of past, almost reminding you of the calming expanse on Hoth. With a medical station nearly void of life, there wasn’t much to upset its delicate balance as you sensed the escape shuttle’s hatch spin closed with a twist far behind you to secure in the last of the escapees. It enabled your mind to focus intensely on any indications of a disturbance. Whether that be dodging a wall to turn a corner or thoughtlessly punching in floor levels inside turbo lift after turbo lift as you attempted to sense this being lost in an endless array of intertwined hallways and rooms.

Until, while traversing alongside towering walls of precariously placed, foggy cargo containers held within one of the station’s high-ceiling storage lots, you suddenly felt it.

Your eyes slammed open.

A dull jolt in the everlasting stream, pulling at its ripples like a confused animal, and, from what you gleamed, located somewhere alongside the far wall that was sectioned into outstretched viewports inviting in the expanse’s brightest stars. Though those specks of white were vastly overshadowed by the eloquently zipping fighters whose choreographed dips and dashes pirouetted amongst a swarm of red blaster bolts, painting the Galaxy’s complexion with streaming tears of blood. Yet the source of her sobs, no matter how large her function, remained out of sight.

Your feet peddled through the sweeping repository with greater haste, bringing you mere yards from the transparisteel separating beings from the blackness beyond when you heard to your left a tenuous groan leak from its creator.

Your head swiveled toward the sound as a weakening malaise perfumed your senses.

Trapped underneath a lofty cargo container inscribed with gray geometric lines of Basic was the whole right arm of an older clone that maintained a graying beard and sported the brown garb of a supplier logistics technician. The side of his ribs pressed against the floor with intense pressure as he wrestled to shimmy the limb free from its metallic captor, teeth grinding into nubs from the striking pain of likely broken bones shattering still. An electrocuting sensation traveling down legs that dragged at the floor in an attempt to break himself free. Enough so that you caught wind of the oddly twisted placement of an ankle which flopped limply from the thrashes.

Without a second thought, you rushed toward the clone, arm outstretched as you landed on your knees to hold his chilly one still.

“Hold on!” You expelled while your mind tapped into the surrounding stream, allowing you to guide its energies into yourself as you focused your crumpled brows on nudging the container through the outstretched fingers of your free hand.

"You should get out of here, Sir,” the clone expressed through a weak huff.

The large box sharply groaned with a slight shake as you gasped through tense lips at its noticeable heft, fingers curling tighter until its vibrations evolved into the crackling pop of the container losing traction with the ground. Not by much, just a few inches at most, but enough for you to shimmy his arm out from underneath the lifeless beast’s grasp as utterances of excruciating cries and relief-drenched pants shot out of the man’s mouth and ricocheted across the echoing chamber.

The graying clone rolled on his back, cradling the damaged arm with squeezed eyes as he allowed the waves of salient affliction to wash over him while you stumbled back to catch your breath.

“Yes, I should,” you aired breathily as you bent down to help the injured man with a palm under each armpit, hoisting him up high enough to rest a good arm around your shoulder amidst protesting grunts so to limp him a few feet forward. “Now shut up and move, soldier.”

“Yes, Sir,” the weary clone moaned with a subtle shadow of ease as he hobbled through one lumbering step after another, digging into your shoulder with each footfall while you held the majority of his weight firm amidst a damaged ankle likely broken when the cargo container fell.

And for a brief instant, despite the significant setback spawned by the discovery of a severely inured clone, and the increasing pressure on your vibrating leg, you thought that the two of you had a pretty good chance of making it out of here, given that one of the escape pods you’d gleaned from the medical station’s blueprints was on this very level, in one of the inner hallways just a few turns away.

That was, until the staticky pop of your wrist comm buzzed to life with the sound of a familiar yet resistantly tense voice crackling through its speaker.

“Silv— Sil—vey. Come —in. Silvey—, are — there?”

You stretched your dominant hand toward your opposite shoulder, answering the call through a tap to the answering button without losing your grip on the saddling soldier.

“Anakin, I hear you.” You acknowledged forcefully with another step forward toward the storage repository’s sweeping, double-door exit that you carefully eyed a dozen meters away. “The weapon is causing some interference. We’re about to depart. What is it?”

“You nee— out of there! Not s— can’t— hol— —off”

A tingling eeriness ignited in the Force to your rear.

You spun back around toward the storage area’s rear wall of geometric viewports only to glimpse a dash of electrifying purple sparks rotate into the far left segment’s view amidst the endless streaks of red cuts into the Galaxy’s inky fold. A massive, circular charge that revved as the face of the expansive, shark-like ship Malevolence threatened with a roaring breath to blow away any chance you or this clone had for survival.

You remembered what Cody said. One strike from that destructive weapon would shut off the escape hatch releases you’d been relying on for your escape. And with all other systems offline, it would effectively annihilate any life left on board.

This was going to be a problem.

Until a swarm of marching fighters swung into view, veering about one big loop through and out the cannon’s neck as one after another launched an explosive, fiery torpedo that streamed into its wide gullet, supplying a smoky black beard that puffed outwards from the consecutive detonations as the beast’s electrifying, violet mouth roused wider at the provocation.

And just when you thought that the deadly spit of this wild creature would consume your vision, a wide array of clustering, rumbling copper blasts pimpled the shark’s decelerating form, caking the surrounding space with blotches of a wider, billowing smog. An apt fireworks show to welcome the arrival of several Republic warships that swung in from hyperspace within mere seconds like the flying bolts of before that now laid dormant.

“Anakin, do you copy?"

The firmly smooth yet urgent undertones of Obi-Wan’s voice broke through the speaker with an abrupt clarity that snapped your thoughts back into the present, empowering you to recognize that Anakin’s team foiled the imminent threat. You released tensed shoulders that had tightened at the height of this ordeal, enough so to liberate the older clone’s arm from your grasp. You leaned your chest toward the floor as his weight reclined against your back, sliding his arm across your wingspan in order to better grasp each armpit all to gradually lower his form down to rest against a few cargo containers stacked to your left.

“I’m here,” Anakin acknowledged, his transmission having audibly improved as you rose back to your full height to face the viewports once more, feeling the deep sting of a leg that appeared to have seen too much action a moment too early. “And Silvey is too. From the station.”

A flicker of white noise. Hushes of circuits and wires that marked General Kenobi’s line as open. Yet, in those few seconds, no words traveled across its waves from the lead warship drifting comfortably at a distance that characterized its structure as a miniature figurine.

Still, it was enough of a lull to catch your notice with the elicitation of a slumping sensation in your gut as your stretching senses reached through trained eyes to get just a glimpse of the damage you’d begun to realize you’d done.

Though your sight could never reach that far.

“Well,” he started with a bump. “I’m glad to hear you’re alright. Thanks to the success of Anakin’s mission. Congratulations.”

“Partially, but Grievous is still alive,” Anakin corrected just as swiftly as Obi-Wan spoke, though rumination deepened his tone. “The battle was pretty rough on my men. We’re heading for the medical station.”

Grievous…

It was clear he posed a threat. Not just to the Republic’s success in this war, but to Anakin too if these violent exchanges were to continue. The Chosen One and his entire team were nearly killed at his order.

And, to you, that was unacceptable.

You understood the Masters’ weariness which governed the decision to separate you and Anakin on the battlefield. You really did. Lest your proximity allow the enemy to discover your connection, and by association, your eternal mission. But you’d do no good in fulfilling those responsibilities when stationed so far from Skywalker’s battlefield skirmishes.

It was time to take matters into your own hands, it seemed. Because while it had been a little while since you last spoke with Master Windu, you were positive that neither he nor Master Yoda himself would approve of you joining Anakin on his next mission.

No matter, you knew you had to anyway.

It was time to finally fulfill your responsibilities as The Chosen One’s Guardian.

And, maybe then, you could address the mistakes you were beginning to realize you’d made in your friendship with Obi-Wan.

Maybe then, you could face your fears in stride like Mill Alibeth, in hopes of a better future.

“I’ll remain here to help with the return efforts and the injured,” you justified succinctly, unintentionally dipping into the professional drone you’d so expertly habitualized in conversations with the bearded Jedi these past few weeks.

It would also be worth having your leg looked at, you internalized.

But that thought flitted away as another shimmer of peppery nothingness filled the airways with empty feedback.

Yet this time, out of the automative choir that filled your eardrums, you felt a tenuous lug in the Force’s most inner threads, drawing a sliver of confusion to crinkle across your brows as you perceived this foreign sensation not only emanate from within you, but from a distance too far to pinpoint.

“Stay if you must,” he uttered. "Not all paths need to run side-by-side, after all.”

The sarcastic lilt of his mechanically transmitted voice tugged at the cogs of your mind, but not staunchly enough to process the Jedi’s meaning before his cogent air collided with your eardrums once more.

 “Perhaps I’ve asked too much of you.”

You felt your cheeks chill an icy warmth as your body tried to reckon with the blood escaping to flood your features, synapses snapping with an equal potency of guilt and unease that threatened to spin the temperature of your ligaments into endless dials.

“But don’t worry,” he quickly finished while redirecting a more sanguine vocalization toward his former Padawan with the succinctness of a head turn. "we’ll call you when we need you.”

As you felt Anakin’s awkward hesitation from a filler word loosely pass across his comm line and directly into your very bones, you came to the solemn acceptance that the damage you’d chipped and chipped into existence this past week, was done.

And just as briskly, your motivation to mend your mistakes dissipated into the ether along with Anakin’s final sign-off.

“We’ll be waiting, Obi-Wan.”

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[trudemaethien]

I’ve written Codywan—

No, you haven’t.

I’ve written them!

snippet for @subcodyweek

Bafflingly, Hardeen’s first instinct is to step back and dart a glance to the other open end of the alley, which pisses Cody right off. He’s not giving this asshole a chance to get away, or range to shoot him like he shot Kenobi. Cody pivots a quarter turn, making his enemy turn too or get an elbow to the ear, herding him back against one rough exterior wall.

The shing of a knife being unsheathed has Cody automatically parry Hardeen’s arm up and away—his opponent is fluid and fast with that blade—and Cody’s not about to get fucking knifed in an alleyway in a fight he picked. He grabs the front of the guy’s vest and cracks his forehead solidly into the asshole’s smug, tatted-up face. His nose smarts and there’s warm blood running down past his lip. He’s not sure whose it is; Hardeen looks as dazed as he feels.

Having disoriented his foe, he swiftly slaps the knife away, only for the front of his own jacket to to be grabbed in turn and a sharp knee to jackknife hard up between his legs. Cody suddenly and fiercely regrets leaving behind his codpiece. He manages to deflect it slightly off center, but it’s still a blinding agony, just like every crotch shot he’s ever taken. Dirty kriffing cheater. Doubled over and groaning, he almost misses what Hardeen does next, which could have been fatal if the man had taken the opportunity to attack. Instead, the bounty hunter just legs it toward the main road.

What the kark is wrong with this guy? He’s not taking this seriously, as though the snuffing out of such an important actor to the war effort was routine, forgettable. Cody ignores the pain and lurches after Hardeen, tackling him from behind to the filthy ground.

Hardeen is tall, but Cody is solid. He plants himself on the backs of those long legs to prevent further kicking, and jams an abraded palm into the back of Hardeen’s neck, grinding his face into the dirt.

“What do you want?” Hardeen grits out, muffled, struggling to upset him off his back. He’s long and lanky, so Cody can’t pin his hands without losing his seat. Hardeen scrabbles for a good angle to retaliate, but Cody’s got him pinned.

Cody misses fighting other clones, men with reasonable proportions, but at the same time is glad of all the sparring he’s done against Obi-Wan. The experience is coming in handy now. Is it blasé to compare a man’s killer to the deceased's fighting style? Does it matter?

Cody snarls, “Can’t you guess? You killed him; I want you dead, you fucker.”

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

do u like ahsoka? I think shes neat

I think she's neat too!

(too lazy to go grab some more pics, so just from what I've got on hand:)

love her earnest face and lovely color scheme

and how relatable she always was! I just feel those poses

she was lovely as a kid and she was lovely with kids

obi-wan thought she was neat too! (and obviously obi-wan's opinion is the important thing in any context)

Her fighting style was always awesome.

To go more into it, I love TCW!Ahsoka. I'm slightly more ambivalent towards her Rebels self (mainly because it can be a bit hard to connect the two since they have pretty different designs and stories), but this girl right here? She's the absolute best.

She was always spunky, sassy, smart and extremely compassionate, and she had a plethora of great character flaws to go with all her amazing qualities. She was reckless, stubborn, naive and impulsive - all perfectly normal attributes given her age - and it took nothing away from how likable she was.

Her presence in TCW was a great way to supplement Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship, and I always loved what we saw of the Order through her connection with so the Masters, Knights and younglings (wish we'd gotten more of that tbh). She matured very believably over five seasons, and every time she got to do something a little more badass it felt like a big victory. She's also great for kids to connect with. (My younger bros and cousin absolutely love her, and they're watching the show in French, where she has the most incredibly annoying voice. If they can love her even then, she's really dang loveable.)

Now, it's gotten just a tad tiring how big of a deal she is now. Imo, blowing her importance out of proportion and trying to slip her into every major project has considerably undermined the strength of her character because she's all over the place and her story is in pieces - plus live action is a completely different tone from animation and she just doesn't feel the same at all. But while I may not like the direction newer content has been taking, it never in any way lessened my love for her in TCW. Even in season 7 (which handled her extremely badly imo) I feel for her and my heart just broke watching the finale.

So yeah. I do like her. She is neat.

[thesunlikehoney]

1. the character everyone gets wrong

:)))

LOL. We are indeed choosing violence I see.

Thinking about this... Honestly, there are many many characters fandom has made unrecognizable but the one that annoys me above all others is Obi-Wan. Like, ok. I understand not putting in the time and effort to do Rex or Fives or Cody justice. It makes me pull my hair out, but I understand. I understand having complicated feelings about Anakin or Ahsoka or Padme and not wanting to put in the time to do them justice either. But Obi-Wan is handed to us on a platter. He is in everything. He is always there. You don't have to watch a show or read a comic or dig up YT videos titled "all ___ appearances" to engage with his character. And his characterization is by and large consistent! And yet. And yet.

I think my tolerance for fandomization bullshit is directly proportional to how much effort it will take a writer to engage with a character. It makes me angry that people don't put effort into writing Cody well, but that's what the anger is about-- the effort. With Obi-Wan it just seems like it should be effortless since everything about him is spoon-feed to us and he's not a terribly complex guy compared to the Anakins and Padmes in his life, but somehow people still manage to fuck him up. Alas. My suffering will be eternal.

[anikenobi]

I needed practice sketching and I like thinking that Obi-Wan really loves Anakin’s lips. 

[phoenixyfriend]

AU where (somehow) Palpatine becomes Emperor and all that jazz without killing off the Jedi, but before they can like... DO anything to fix it, Anakin (recently implied imperial heir and visibly off his rocker) has a meltdown of absolutely horrific proportions and beheads Palpatine on live television, then declares that he's installing Padme, his WIFE whom he adores VERY MUCH, as Empress.

Padme isn't even THERE, she's busy giving birth on Naboo and nobody's had the guts to tell her about the whole Empire situation. IDK maybe Anakin begged Obi-Wan to look after her while Obi-Wan was on a forced leave and got a "Well, I've certainly nothing better to do" in response, and Padme and Obi-Wan are both kinda bougie, they're on an ~*~electronics cleanse~*~ while Padme rides out the end of her pregnancy.

"Don't contact us unless it's an emergency," they said, not anticipating that people would fail to tell them about the fall of democracy.

Realistically, the Jedi manage to Handle the Anakin problem (which, like, nobody's that upset about someone tackling him in the middle of the Senate to take him down after what he just pulled, there are OBVIOUS justifications for this arrest, holy shit), and then let democracy come back before Padme ever finds out, and really someone should have told her and Obi-Wan the second Palpatine went "hey, I should have a crown, and absolute power, and also the opportunity to torture Anakin for shits and giggles," but I just think it would be really funny for her and Obi-Wan to come back to Coruscant, twins in hand, only to find out that Palpatine was a Sith Lord, the Republic is an Empire THAT NOW BELONGS TO PADME, and Anakin lost his mind so spectacularly that he now thinks presenting Palpatine's severed head to her on bended knee upon her return to Coruscant is somehow a good idea.

Maybe the Jedi just decided that, since Palpatine was a Sith anyway, and Anakin isn't really DOING much while warming the seat for his absent wife, they could just... wait for her and Obi-Wan to come back and knock some sense into him. Less of a risk of a Jedi getting hurt trying to arrest him?

[obislittleone]

House Of Memories (52/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: ouch this ones angsty

Summary: They haven’t bothered you for years, but now they are back, and they are back with a vengeance.

A/n: okay this is the transition into the events of episode 3 (and some background of what happened before that)

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 1.8k

It was still dark, and you couldn’t see anything, but the hands that grabbed at you were not familiar. You branched out with the force, trying to gain any knowledge of who was taking you. You screamed out for help, unable to control your powers enough to face them down. Were you weakened? It didn’t make any sense. You were quite powerful and could usually take down an enemy, despite them having a size advantage. This time it was harder to focus on one thing at a time, because the darkness soon faded. You were brought into an execution room, with torture devices lining the walls and floors. There were creatures you’d never seen before, chanting the words of death in several languages. You weren’t sure how you even recognized some of the words, but you did. Your blood boiled thick when the face of your captor was revealed. It was not human, nor droid, but a robotic mix of the two, with limbs twice as long as yours, standing as tall as a mudhorn but with all the lankiness of a skeleton. You’d heard stories about General Grievous, the tormentor amongst captured Jedi. The one who collected lightsabers from those he’d struck down. You weren’t afraid of him, yet. You couldn’t even say why, you just looked at him with a glare, hoping that you could be the one to destroy him. 

He brought you to the center of the room, shoving you away from him, and staring you down. 

“You are no Jedi. You,” he used his sharp metal finger to point at you with a crooked tilt of his mechanical head, “are a pretender.”

“And you are a coward, hiding behind an army of droids because you know you can’t win on your own accord.” 

Your mind was clear, as you took your saber from your hip, igniting it to show its green glow against the otherwise dark room. 

Grievous laughed maniacally, and so did the creatures in the room with him. Your lightsaber was pulled from your hands, and you were unable to stop it. Why were you so weak? Why couldn’t you remember your training? 

“Your master has failed you.” 

That was the last straw, for all the things you could take, slander against your master was not one of them. You would defend his honor with your life. Selfishly, if you had to. 

“And you are about to fail him.”

You froze in place. Unable to move a single muscle or even blink an eye. You were held in place and made to look at the new scene in front of you. Obi-Wan was restrained against a wall, already beaten and bloody. Your heart sank, and you tried to reach for him, but you were still frozen to your spot. The creatures that surrounded you continued to assault him, left and right poking and prodding different devices that had him crying out in pain. He couldn’t even hold himself up, the only thing giving him any structure being his restraints. 

“Stop this!” you somehow yelled out, gaining the attention of Grievous, while his monsters continued to have their way with Obi-Wan. “If it is life you want, you will take mine before I let you take his.”

Another laugh of horrific proportions sounded in your ears, his tone of voice was so irritating, and made your skin crawl. 

“You have failed.”

Grievous turned back to your master, barely alive as he was, and ignited your lightsaber, before running him through with it. You watched his body go completely limp in the restraints, pulling on the wall as he hung there with nothing left. His blood ran over the floors, seeping under your feet, and you cried out, screaming into the void that soon surrounded you. You were left alone soon enough, breaking free from the trance that held you in place. You sank to your knees beside Obi-Wan, using the force to break the restraints. He fell into your arms, his body broken, and lifeless. You held him close to you, hoping and praying that he wasn’t dead, that this wasn’t real. You wanted nothing more than for him to hold you instead, to tell you that you hadn’t failed him, and that you never would. You tried to wake him, thinking perhaps he might still have some life left in him, and leaned down to kiss his bleeding lips to bring him back to you. Alas, it did not work, and you were left to sob over the body of your Master, and lover. Your tears were everywhere, mixed in with the shedding of his blood on your hands. You’d remembered a scene quite similar to that of this, when he faked his death and led you and Anakin to believe he was gone forever. That felt just as permanent, but this felt worse, because this was you fault. His blood on your hands.

You couldn’t bear it. You screamed out his name to the cosmic force around you, not able to feel his presence the way you always had before. You were connected to each other, mind and soul, a dyad in the force unlike anything ever seen in generations. You could feel his pain, feel his emptiness as his soul became one with the air around you, and you were left alone, with only the worst half of yourself left.

All of a sudden, you could hear his voice, and it was calling you by name. 

“Obi?” Your lips trembled, and you wondered how you heard his voice, though there was no ounce of living spirit in his body anymore.

“Wake up my love, please.”

You sat up in a cold sweat, tears rolling down your face, and your breathing was erratic. Obi-Wan looked scared out of his wits, sitting up next to you, and bringing you close to his chest. You were so convinced that they were gone, the nightmares. You had been hopeful that they would never return, but they did, and you could not control yourself from thinking it meant something horrible.

You were still crying uncontrollably, leaning into his chest for comfort as he soothed you, combing through your hair to try and calm your nerves that had you shaking like a leaf that was about to fall from a tree.

“I’ve got you, you’re safe. I promise,” he whispered, leaving kisses over your face to try and help you. You were trying to breath, trying to slow your erratic intake and stop the sobs. You were usually much easier able to control yourself, but it had been a long time since the nightmares plagued you, and you forgot how real they seemed.

“It’s back,” you said, trying to sniffle the rest of your tears away and calm yourself by connecting with his signature. He grabbed hold of yours right back, letting them tangle together. You began breathing in a steady rhythm now, and as he’d come to learn a while ago, you were meditating on him. Rather unconventional, and he never thought it possible to use a romantic connection to meditate on, but whenever you did it, he felt utterly overwhelmed. Just knowing that he was your sense of safety and security meant the worlds to him.

“What’s back, little one?” He pulled you slowly to arms distance, and held your hands gently, rubbing his thumbs over the backs of each one.

“The nightmare, the one where you die,” you couldn’t look him in the eyes as you said the next part, in fears that it could actually mean something. “And it’s my fault.”

His brows furrowed and his heart felt heavy at your words. Did you really believe this? That you could ever be the reason he had died? He knew that when you thought he was dead the first time, you felt a sense of blame for what happened to him, but upon discussing it with you, it was able to be worked through, and eventually forgotten. Until now, it seemed.

“It was just a dream,” he shook his head, leaning it into yours and resting it thee with eyes closed. You weren’t so easily swayed by his words, and backed away from him.

“It’s not, it can’t be…. There’s something I never told you,” you began, looking to him to see if perhaps he had anything else to say, but his waiting stare just faced back at you, lit dimly, but still seen that he was ever so invested in what you would say. “I never told you that the one who kills you is General Grievous.”

His face went stark white at this, and his pale expression worried you. Did this mean you were having a vision rather than a dream? A prediction of what was to come? Your bottom lip was trembling again when he didn’t say anything, and he couldn’t and to let that go on any longer, no matter how much this was to process for him.

“You don’t need to worry, my love, it doesn’t mean anything. It is only the dark side trying to overtake your mind, you must resist it.”

He pulled you close o him again, and you began to feel safer than you had before.

Being back on Coruscant the last several weeks was a good return to normal, but now this horrible nightmare was ruining the beautiful transition, and making it an anxious and emotional one.

“I won’t let you die, Obi,” you clung to him like a wet blanket, breathing him in and letting him out and repeating the process until you were able to feel calm again. “I promise you.”

His shock rested in many things, being that of the name you had only now given him. A while ago, about the same time your nightmares started, he’d been having one similar, one where you were kept away from him, and he could not save you. One where the enemy used his own lightsaber to kill you, the same way his Master before him was killed. The killer in his nightmares was General Grievous.

“Nothing is going to happen to me,” he said firmly, and you almost believed him if just for the tone of his voice, so assured of himself.

“I won’t let it,” you repeated, it becoming an oath off your lips. You would stand between hell and high water before you’d let it touch him. Your Obi, the dearest thing to you, your attachment.

You were able to calm yourself down a bit and finally laid back down, pulling him down with you and arranging your bodies so you were as close to each other as physically possible.

He became worried about this new obstacle, and what it could possibly mean for you should the trials happen soon. You were ready, but the dark side was still lurking in you and needing any outlet it could find to prevent you from becoming a Jedi Knight. He didn’t want that to happen, but he had become curious after your confession. He too had these dreams of losing you to Grievous, he was just better at hiding it. Over the years as they faded away, he hoped that maybe it was just his fears plaguing his sleep with restless notions that he may lose you. Now, he was uncertain.

-

Kenobi tags:

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

[kavaeroexe]

hello do you write smut? asking for incubus obi wan 😩

ahaha my first time writing smut, but I know how it works soooo <3

warning: typos, bad grammar, bad plot as well, 18+ content!!!!, fem reader

his likings.

attention! please do not try to repost my works, I only post my works on Tumblr, if anyone see someone stole my works please inform me through the comments, tag me in the works, or message me!  

.

.

“Okay, so you are a general there? interesting, and if you are asking about the blood for the pentagram is that it’s from a goat’s blood, I killed it myself, damn I hate that but for the blood, I must say it’s good, Whaddaya think?”

“this one human sure talks a lot huh”

“General Kenobi, are you listening?”

“Why yes, of course, I could say your blood for the pentagram is not bad, anything else you want to ask, little human?” he answered, looking at you while smiling 

“I still have a lot, but maybe we could take a break” you replied, holding a cup of tea that you made before the interview session started, you sipped it for a bit and then sigh.

“You know, I was a bit surprised to see you just laying on my couch the moment I came home, plus you don’t wear absolutely anything, now you need to wear my brother’s old clothes, even though a bit tight...” you look at Obi from his head to his leg, well you must say

he’s kinda... sexy? but you let it pass, every single incubus and succubus has a well amazing body, to seduce of course.

“I can read your thought little one”

you choke on your tea, and then you hummed. shoot, you forgot they can do that, “Sorry I’ll try to be careful with my silly thought next time” you apologize, try to forget your previous stupid mind and focus on enjoying your tea

“Well, too late to erase your naughty thought little one” You look at him who’s smirking and then you hummed again

“Well, you have a good proportion of body, I mean who will not have the same thought with me?” you swing your hands and poke his chest before you try to sit again on where you sat before, but he immediately stops you by kissing your lips passionately.

“What-!? don’t touch your lips there or I’ll- mphh!!” you try to resist but there’s no use, he’s got you now, now look at you being held by him, as you try to push his face away.

“you talk too much, I suppose in this way you’ll become quiet, perfect to my liking” he spoke, holding your face, looking at you breathing harshly, gasping for air, and doesn’t dare to look at him, how cute.

“Why don’t we continue our asking session like this hm? wouldn’t it be fun?”

he runs his hand through your shirt, touching your stomach, and playfully runs his hand to your chest, smirking along the way he runs his hand. even if you don’t want to be in a position like this, he already locked you down, so you could behave instead, since there is no use for fighting right now

“May I ask some questions for you as well? it will be a pleasant moment to know more about you” while his other hand pins both of your hands to the couch, you could still move your face away from him, letting out strangled noises while trying to let go of his hands.

“Look at me, look at me, don’t be scared like that, I don’t bite~,” he says to reassure you, placing his lips right to your jaw and then moving to your neck. “But you can fuck” you shortly replied right before you let out a shocked lil moan after he kisses you on the neck.

“Oh yes, that’s what I do darling”

.

.

.

“Well? speak again love, tell me more about you, don’t be shy, just speak.”

he passionately continues kissing your neck, biting, and licking it, while his hand fingers your pussy

“I- I take my college after that and then i- Fuck-! fuck.. I can’t talk like this.. please...”

you squirm around as he hit you in the right spot, but it didn’t last long since the moment he kept you stay still because it looks cute for you to move around right where he touches the perfect spot, but he needs you to stay still.

“What do you mean you can’t talk? I don’t even shut that pretty lips of yours right now” he replied with a whisper voice but loud enough for you to hear, and as he spoke, he held your body even tighter from behind, not wanting you to move, just want to hear your voice.

“See? It’s not even close for me to touching your lips like this, stop sputtering nonsense darling” but when he said that, the more he touches you that makes you can’t talk like he asks you to.

“I can’t... answering if you keep touching me like this...”

he went silent for a bit, and then he hummed, “Well, not so good reason if you shy to talk, plus you‘re being so aggressive all the time, not so good attitude, princess.”

the moment he lets you go and he gets up, you immediately catch your breath and then close your trembling legs together, lean against the couch with a heavy breath, you could relax for a while, but not so long until you start to think where did he go

just to find him standing in front of you

.

.

.

“Obi- Obi! don’t touch there.. don’t touch the- ahh~!! fuck- fuck- Obi..”

now your feet are off the ground, your shaking hands try to reach his arms that are holding your tiny body, your tiny body that is surprisingly able to take him so well, so good, just for him.

“Obi.. too much- It’s too much.. Mnhh-!! no no no no~..”

if you’re focused enough, you’ll be able to see his cock bulging so big at your stomach, that you could feel his cock twitching every time he moved it in and out (damn I’m screaming while typing this )

“Well look at you, I know you love that, sooner or late you’ll be able to do more than this, just for me ‘kay? taking me so well like this, I’ll let that bad words coming out from your mouth pass this time”

he places a mark on your shoulder while he pounced on your hole once again before he cums a lot on you.

“Don’t waste what I gave you, don’t be like last time darling, take every single drop of it, nu-uh take it, take it~”

The moment you impressed him, he brush your messy hair and place a kiss on your forehead, and he lets you take a few breath.

"Hm.. You think i'm done with you? " The moment he said fhat, you immediately look at him in shock and exhausted face

"We are done.. Right? "

"Well if you's think like that, you're absolutely wrong darling, many things we should try until next morning understand? "

[tennessoui]

Miss Kit i need to once again say how much i appreciate your stories they literally make me so happy

And the last t&t update KILLED me but it also gave me LIVE god i loved it so much

That beeing said i absolutely dont want to sound demanding or anything but....do you know when you will continue the roadtrip au? Because everytime i think about those two i feel the need to jump into the story and just *gently* smash their heads together but i also want to hug them and tell them they'll be fine you know?

ah!! bless ok i love this so much thank you thank you thank you!!! my updating schedule is constantly a surprise (even to me), but I did think about the road trip au pretty consistently during my last road trip, so i'm confident i have the bare bones of it. as a lil treat, this is what i wrote the second i got where i was going (though to be fairly honest, I haven't been able to go back to it since).

Chapter Nine:

How much does pregnancy increase sex drive?

Obi-Wan frowns at the Google results, which largely say: It varies.

Increased sex drive + male omegas + normal levels doesn’t yield anything different.

This is bad.

This is bad because Obi-Wan wants to touch Anakin all the time now that he’s allowed to by some frame of reference, and eventually Anakin is going to work through all the—all the hormone build-up from abstaining from sex for a few months, and he’s going to wonder why his roommate is absolutely gagging for it every time he reaches for him. And he’s going to know that it’s not just pregnancy hormones, because Anakin is very smart and very perceptive when it comes to Obi-Wan—in all but hopefully one instance—and he’ll probably decide it can’t all be from pregnancy hormones, and he’ll look it up and realize that Obi-Wan is just so hopelessly in love with him that his entire body feels like it’s on fire the moment they so much as brush their hands together.

But—Anakin had agreed—he’d made it clear, hadn’t he, that this arrangement would only carry forward until Obi-Wan has carried his child to term.

What happens after? What happens when Obi-Wan can no longer blame his hunger for Anakin’s touch and scent and presence on his pregnancy? What happens when he must either own up to his feelings or let go of all the comforts he has surrounded himself with for the past month?

Surely the transition back to how they were before won’t be easy. To go from this tangled up mess of half-truths and half-lies, scent-thick and instinctual, back to just…roommates feels unthinkable. A transition of the hardest proportions. Impossible.

As if agreeing, Anakin’s arm tightens around his waist and he pulls him back into him with the slightest of growls, nuzzling at his neck in his sleep and licking at it once before settling back down.

Unthinkable. Impossible.

But necessary. 

[destroyedparadise234]

Not me imagining Anakin accidentally summoning an Obi-Wan from a different dimension into his own (is it from touching a holocron he was specifically told to avoid? an explosion at a separatists base working on highly reactive experiments? general “chosen one” force fuckery? who knows)

But instead of this Obi-Wan being a Sith, or a younger/older/punk rock version of his normal Obi-Wan, this one looks and acts completely as per usual, so much so that Anakin didn’t even realize anything was amiss—

Until of course this Obi-Wan greets Anakin by kissing the corner of his lips and pressing his hand possessively against the small of Anakin’s back.

Anakin’s reeling, naturally, from the definitely not as per usual touch from his former Master who he’s harbored inappropriate feelings for since before Obi-Wan even grew out his pre-war mullet. And he’s trying, desperately, to excuse the touch— thinking Obi-Wan may have just been giddy from a mission gone spectacularly well, or that he was simply blowing the touch out of proportion and that it was a simple, friendly gesture between friends. colleagues. former master and padawan.

But then this Obi-Wan slams Anakin against the wall as soon as they reach Obi-Wan’s quarters, planting bruising, biting kisses all along Anakin’s neck, kneading his ass and pressing a solid thigh between Anakin’s. And all Anakin can do at first is gape, cling onto Obi-Wan’s shoulders, stand still as stone and try to figure out how he missed the brain injury Obi-Wan must obviously be suffering from because what the fuck is happening—

And he’s then hit with the deep love and affection absolutely radiating from Obi-Wan in the force, almost blinding love for him— and it’s suddenly excruciating to feel Obi-Wan backing away from him, that love getting clouded with concern, and Obi-Wan’s eyebrows furrow and he’s cupping Anakin’s cheek, asking him, “My love, is something the matter?” As if Obi-Wan ravishing him is a common occurrence.

But Anakin doesn’t think about that, doesn’t want to use even a single braincell at the moment to ponder it because here he is, Obi-Wan not shielding a single ounce of how deeply in love with Anakin he is, offering himself in ways that Anakin would never in his lifetime have imagined he could actually have— and theres no way in all the Sith hells that he’s going to use this time to sit down and discuss why exactly Obi-Wan decided to stick his tongue down his throat today.

So he pulls Obi-Wan back towards him and enthusiastically demonstrates that nope, everything is fine, please do not stop grinding against my ass ever—

And it’s somewhere between Obi-Wan whispering burning praises against Anakin’s throat about everything he plans on doing to Anakin tonight, and Anakin deliriously musing about how he hasn’t been this close to coming in his pants since he was a teenager, that Anakin even registers that someone else has entered his quarters, registers a shocked gasp, registers a force signature almost more familiar than his own cycling from confusion to blinding rage—

And by the time Anakin registers all this, Obi-Wan’s stock still, a blaster pressed against his temple.

A blaster being held by none other than Obi-Wan Kenobi. His Obi-Wan, the one that actually belongs in this dimension.

The one who’s mission clearly didn’t go well by the state of his robes, the one who simply wanted to wash up in his quarters before having to debrief with the council, the one who doesn’t even need to shield as hard as he’s shielding right now because the venomous anger coursing through him is evident in the manic tinge of his eyes.

The one who’s obviously this enraged because he isn’t in love with Anakin Skywalker and is disgusted with what he’s been forced to witness—

But thankfully Anakin snaps out of his self wallowing at the way his Obi-Wan’s snarling for the Other Kenobi to tell him who he is, who sent him, to unhand Anakin or so help him— and intervenes before someone ends up shooting someone in the face.

And after a lengthy process Anakin, the two Obi-Wans, and the Council are able to confirm the other Kenobi truthfully is from another dimension (one where Obi-Wan and Anakin are apparently married, have been for years, Windu himself officiated the ceremony) and has accidentally been transported into their own.

And Anakin knows he needs to find a way to send him back to his own world. Quickly. Because between the way the Other Kenobi looks at Anakin like he can’t help but be enamored with Anakin from any dimension (the way his Obi-Wan would never actually look at him), and the way his Obi-Wan, his beautiful peaceful model-Jedi Obi-Wan looks like he’s ready to renounce his Jedi vows if that meant he could toss the Other Kenobi out the window— Anakin’s not sure if he himself will survive this ordeal much longer.

[deniigi]

Please have some Skywalker Babies + Uncle Rex.

----

Title: skittles

Summary: Padme dies, but Anakin doesn't turn and as a result ends up with two little ones who are, naturally, adopted by the 501st--well, Leia is. Luke keeps getting stolen by a filthy thief.

------

Rex has the twins for now. He has never felt terror like this before. He can’t stop checking over his shoulders for threats to their teeny tiny persons.

In his humble opinion, it should be illegal for humans to be born this small. He ran it past Ahsoka recently and she agreed, but she also provided intelligence that the twins’ size was not necessarily average for their species, either.

The other brothers helped him investigate this. They all gathered round and put the holonet searches on the projector so that they didn’t have to smash buckets over a datapad screen to be educated. Their search for ‘newborn natborn human baby’ was rewarded with images upon images of reddened tubies with big, round bellies and curled up limbs.

They did a new search for ‘2 weeks, natborn human baby’ and were rewarded with even more pictures, to which they held the twins up next to and found them wanting. The twins’ proportions were all wrong, their limbs were too skinny, their faces pinched. The babies on the holonet didn’t have hair, but their baby girl did.

The conclusion was that the research was inconclusive. Further, it was interrupted by the resident thief coming in to take his chances. Cody told them later, upon returning their baby boy, that they were better than this. Kenobi wasn’t slick. They needed to stop letting their guards now.

He said all this while ignoring the way the baby boy burrowed into the side of his throat and made smacking noises.

Such a strong man, that Cody. He is, unfortunately, not available now even though Rex has both twins and a heart attack waiting to happen.

The Thief is nearby. Rex can sense him. He heads back the way he came.

 --

The baby girl, who has a name, but Anakin is too heartbroken to speak it, fists her hands at Rex and shakes them as if to threaten him into compliance. He does not know how to help her understand that he has not taken the blanket off her face out of malice, but rather to keep her from suffocating. She is angry with him regardless. She is often angry with him and endlessly crying when he does not put her exactly where she wants to be exactly when she wants it.

The thief calls her a princess, and so everyone else has started doing the same in lieu of her name. The child is bound to grow up thinking her name itself is ‘Princess’ at this rate. Ahsoka has been trying out different titles for her, but she doesn’t respond to them in the same way.

For all that the princess is royalty through and through, the baby boy is thoroughly a commoner. Catching him awake is a miracle. Part of that is because his waking hours are spent with the Thief, since Kenobi has decided, for some mysterious reason, that this child is his favorite of all in existence. He will not be separated from this child and when he is, he gets crafty in his attempts to get him back.

The princess does not like Kenobi. At all, period. He touches her and she screams and reaches her stubby hands for Rex. If Rex is not available to be screamed for, she will wail until her father comes to stuff her in his tunic.

Anakin is fine to hold the princess, but he cannot look upon the baby boy, even to feed him. He looks so much like his mother. It is a struggle for everyone—except Kenobi. Rex wonders aloud to Ahsoka if Kenobi will raise the boy on his own and a moment of silence fills the canteen.

Ahsoka throws herself from the room and goes sprinting for the masters’ quarters.

 --

 The twins are tested for Force Sensitivity and it becomes abundantly clear why Kenobi continues hoard the baby boy against all sense and wisdom. He is described by the jedi as a ‘sun’ in the Force. The princess too, but her presence in the Force blends in with her father’s until she is gazed upon in Rex’s Force-empty grip.

Only then is she, too, declared a star.

Twin stars, they are called.

‘Kenobi, put that down,’ the boy is named. ‘Kenobi, give that back,’ is his middle one.

The first time Rex sees the baby boy awake, he is startled by how blue his eyes are. His sister’s are dark, but his are light like water at the base of a waterfall. He makes a little sound and turns his heavy head to the side to blink at Rex’s forearm.

He is the older of the two, but the Princess is already overtaking him in weight. Kenobi has been scolded for this. In return, he locks everyone out of his quarters.

 --

 The twins are two months old when they stop being blinky-maggots and turn into smiley ones. Anakin cannot put the princess down or she will scream until she is blue in the face. As such their dedicated General can be found with his arms full, slowly banging his head against the nearest hard object.

He calls her ‘Leia.’ Princess Leia.

The baby boy is ‘Luke.’ Just Luke.

Anakin spends his time these days bouncing Leia and on the hunt for his son. He walks like a zombie towards Kenobi’s door and plasters his back against it. He slides down and tries desperately not to fall asleep at the bottom.

He will not let Rex take the princess when he’s in this state. He wants only for Kenobi to open the door so that he can fall back onto his floor and demand his son. Kenobi never gives him his son back. There is no longer any question that baby Luke is Kenobi’s child. The fact that he’s been produced by Anakin and Padme is a footnote in the broader history being made here.

Kenobi will, however, take Princess Leia, too, if left unsupervised. She still hates him—more than ever, really, but he doesn’t mind. He likes to lay the twins out together so that Leia’s jerky fussing will ruin Luke’s sleep cycles.

Kenobi is a man with no respect for the law in these parts. More jedi masters have to step in to get him under control. Master Koon takes the most pity on Anakin and gives him both of his children. The masters and the clones watch him stagger up with both babies and drunkenly return to their quarters.

A note is made to check on all three of them in fifteen minutes.

 --

 The twins, at 6 months old, have developed even more distinct personalities and hair. So much hair. Ahsoka puts Leia’s hair in pigtails and Leia will scream if anyone tries to adjust them or if she feels that they are falling out of shape.

Rex’s hands were once clumsy around ring-sized rubber bands. He is now an expert. He is such an expert that he can even make the occasional one stay in Luke’s slippery hair, which, of course, invokes an expression of betrayal in Luke that is so comical, Rex can’t see it without being brought to tears.

Luke hates him for this. He whimpers for his father—no, not that one. The good one.

These days, Kenobi is a cat who has gotten the cream.

The boy called him ‘dada’ before he gave the name to Anakin, and Kenobi nearly lost his life for it. He regrets nothing. He is technically barred from being around Luke, both by the other jedi and by Anakin specifically, but rules are things for other people in Kenobi’s world.

Anakin threatens him with bodily harm at every opportunity that he is not holding his daughter upside down.

She enjoys this. This is not just a daddy-thing to her either; she expects everyone to carry her like this. If not feet-to-the-sky, then at least draped over an arm, face-down like a sack of flour. She hums the way a cat would purr.

 --

 At nine months the babes are mobile and it is the worst thing that has happened to Anakin besides Padme’s death. They are not effectively mobile, but they are professionals at grabbing things and hauling themselves up to their chubby feet. Leia holds onto the fingers of anyone she can get and makes every brother who passes her walk her on their feet to her chosen destination.

Luke is a little slower.

He can get to his feet, but what he wants is to bounce there. If anyone tries to hold his hands, he clams up and falls down and doesn’t get up.

Anakin has begun negotiating with Leia to be more like her brother. She laughs at his face in great peels when he does this. She finds his serious expressions hilarious and wants to cuddle him anytime they appear which is great for domestic time and not so great for council or state meetings. Anakin has taken to appearing before these people with Leia latched around his ankle. Only her, though. Luke can’t bear being in the presence of so many bodies at once. He becomes overwhelmed and handles the pressure by going to sleep. Or crying.

For Kenobi, of course.

And when Kenobi is not around, they all may as well go start digging their own graves before the guilt propels them to do it anyways.

Luke is not a big crier. Anakin can’t understand him. They’ve had many conversations about telling adults when he needs things, all of which Luke elects to ignore in favor of trying to eat bugs and dig in sand.

The latter is the greatest sin that Anakin can dream of.

--

I just think that, given the opportunity, Obi-Wan would be the best grandpa ever and by best, I mean he would see his chance to have a baby and Anakin would end up chasing him around going ‘he’s MY mistake and MY responsibility, you crusty old fucker, give him back’ while Obi-Wan talks to Ahsoka about how nice the weather is.

[legobiwan]

Writing Accountability Day #4

This is a little messy, but my brain is fried tonight.

---------------

“May I?” Obi-wan extended his hand, taking the little wooden starship, turning it this way and that, inspecting it with all the concentrated Jedi dedication the General devoted to everything else in his life, from katas to expense reports to life-and-death battles on the front line.

It was almost...almost intimate, letting the General peek past the veil, allowing him to see the individual budding in the familiar shell of the soldier. Cody's cheeks reddened and damn, what he wouldn't have done for his helmet right now. “You know how it is, sir," he said, voice a few pitches too high. "In the army, that is. Hurry up and wait. Not that we’re untrained for such things, but - “

Obi-wan looked up and laughed. He’d been doing that less and less as of late, the usual dark circles under his eyes now midnight black, skin almost waxy in its pallor. More and more, he looks like he’s carrying the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders. It was nice to see the General smile - really smile - not one of those forced diplomatic grins he was so adept at plastering on his face.

“Cody, truly I understand," he said, still holding the fruit of Cody's rudimentary creative output in his hand. "The number of times I had to wait on a mission with my Master and he - “ Obi-wan shook his head, gaze boring into the little toy ship as if it held all the answers in the universe. “Well, anyway," he continued, voice softer, "the life of a Jedi is not so different, at least in that regard. And this - " With an elegant flick of his hand, the toy rose as if on a string, hovering between the two men. “Is a far better use of time and talents than being made to research old prophecies.”

“Prophecies?”

The ship quivered on its invisible string. Obi-wan frowned, then opened his palm, guiding the toy to land gently on the table. “Nevermind that, Cody,” he said, wrapping a free arm around his abdomen, taking in the aftermath of Cody's efforts spread over the table, the small whirlwind of wood shavings, sandpaper bits, and miniature awls. “It really is a nice piece of work, Commander.”

It really isn't, Cody thought, his mouth leaping past his brain as he added out loud, “You can have it if you want, sir.”

But instead of laughing, Obi-wan only gave a small smile. “No, although I appreciate the offer. Toy starships are more Anakin’s area of interest. I dare say I see enough ships in real life that I have no desire to acquire any more of my own, miniature in form or not.” But despite his words, Obi-wan was still considering the toy, seemingly transfixed by its crude angles and messy proportions. A long minute went by, the half-broken aircon banging its intention to perhaps start functioning again, once, twice before surrendering with a mechanical wheeze.

“Would you teach me?”

Cody could swear he heard his jaw plopping to the floor. “Ex-Excuse me, sir?”

Obi-wan twisted his fingers in his tabards, eyes not quite reaching Cody's own. “Teach me," he paused. "How to woodwork, that is. I’ve been - that is to say, my meditations have been rather…fruitless lately. Less clearing the mind and more drowning in one’s own thoughts. I know I’ve chided Anakin in the past for his more kinetic methods, but I do believe something similar, albeit less damaging to the building's structural integrity, would be in order.”

“I mean, you - you don’t know how to do this?” Cody asked, agape.

“Qui-gon didn’t - “ Obi-wan forced a breath through clenched teeth. The crumbs of intel Cody had gathered regarding Obi-wan’s former - dead - Master wouldn't even have filled a thimble, but the way the General shrank into himself anytime his name was brought up, muscles visibly tightening in his neck, his voice so uncharacteristically thready...Cody would never know Qui-gon Jinn, but if the afterlife was in any wal real, the first thing Cody would do would be to find Jinn and sock him in the jaw.

Twice, maybe.

Obi-wan sighed, pushing back the bangs that had fallen over his forehead. “As I said earlier, Qui-gon and I were engaged less in the traditional crafts and more in rather…esoteric fields.”

“Like researching prophecies," Cody replied, flat.

Obi-wan grimaced. “Something to that effect, anyway.”

[gffa]

So I saw your answer about Obidala the other day and I was trying to find the fic that got me into that ship, because I'm a recent convert, and it's a fic called Come What May where its a Modern AU

I haven’t read much Obidala fic lately (not for any particular reason, I just go in cycles/I’ve had other fic champing at the bit for me), but I’m intrigued by your rec!  I’ll check it out and fFor those curious: ✦ Come What May by Labyrinth_Runner, obi-wan/padme & cast, modern au, 33.3k wip Obi-Wan's a Law student just trying to navigate his way to his degree while helping his roommate Anakin stay out of trouble. What will happen when a new neighbor, Padmé, moves in across the hall? Plus, while we’re on the subject, here are some of the Obidala fics I’ve enjoyed! ✦ Keep Breathing by Yesac, obi-wan/padme + some anakin/padme + luke & leia & oc, 45.8k      Padme doesn't die at the end of Revenge of the Sith. Instead, she decides to take the twins and join Obi-Wan in exile. ✦Anamorphosis by saltyavocado, obi-wan/padme & anakin & cast, 33.5k      A distorted or monstrous projection or representation of an image on a plane or curved surface, which, when viewed from a certain point, or as reflected from a curved mirror or through a polyhedron, appears regular and in proportion; a deformation of an image. ✦ Circles by ambiguously, obi-wan/padme & luke & leia & anakin + past anakin/padme, 4.2k      Padmé and Obi-Wan raise the twins together while hiding from the Empire. ✦ Sea Change by sevenofspade, obi-wan/padme & anakin, 3.9k      Padmé Amidala is accompanied by Obi-Wan Kenobi to Naboo and Anakin Skywalker is the galaxy's worst detective. ✦ Lights Will Guide You Home by darlingargents, obi-wan/padme & potential obi-wan/anakin/padme & luke/ezra & leia & ahsoka & cast, 27.3k wip     Obi-Wan knew that if he didn’t leave now, Padmé would die.  And so he made his decision. ✦ Therefore Must the Soul Deceive by Mithrigil, obi-wan/padme & anakin & cast, 6.9k     Some falls from grace take time. ✦ you're gonna wish you never had met me by cosmicocean, obi-wan/padme & leia/han & luke & cast, 13k       Leia Kenobi, struggling to keep her head above water. ✦ Resurrection by Lefaym, obi-wan/padme & cast, 1.1k      It's hard to adapt to life as a dead woman. But not everyone sees her that way. Not quite. ✦ recovery by dadcastellanos, obi-wan/padme, 1.8k      Padmé survives the loss of Anakin and goes into hiding with Obi-Wan. Slowly, slowly, they make something of their new lives together. ✦ Fate, Inexorable by imadra_blue, Luthe, obi-wan/padme + anakin/padme + implied obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 9.1k     When Anakin is kidnapped by Separatists during the Clone Wars, Padmé accompanies Obi-Wan to rescue him. On a strange trio of planets, they search for him, drawing closer in their mutual fear for Anakin. The bonds that form will not be strong enough to face the future that awaits them in Revenge of the Sith. ✦ The Right Time by dreamiflame, obi-wan/padme, NSFW, 2.3k      Padmé lives AU. While working together for the Rebellion, Padmé and Obi-Wan grow closer. ✦ untitled + untitled by bedlamsbard, obi-wan/padme(/anakin?),NSFW, dark!obi-wan, 5.7k       Backstory: The Republic has fallen. The Jedi Order is broken, its surviving Knights and padawans scattered across the galaxy. The Sith lord Count Dooku has declared himself the leader of a new Galactic Empire. ✦ turn my sorrow into treasured gold by cosmicocean, obi-wan/padme & luke & leia, 15.6k       Padmé survives childbirth, dies as far as the rest of the galaxy is concerned, takes her children with Obi-Wan, and runs. ✦ To Find I'm Not Alone + Wrestling the Angels and the Devils in my Head by MorganEilish, obi-wan/padme & luke & leia, 6k       Padme survived Anakin's betrayal, faked her death, and fled to the distant corners of the galaxy with Obi Wan to raise her children. ✦Oft Falling by kylohen, obi-wan/padme,NSFW, 10.5k       Every few months, whenever he can, Obi-Wan sends flowers to the Coruscant apartments of Senator Padmé Amidala. There's a reason for this that he can never explain, except to her. If anyone else knew, it would ruin him. ✦Old Sins Cast Long Shadows by zarabithia, ahsoka & obi-wan & anakin & padme (& building background obi-wan/padme), 16.6k       In this universe, when Palpatine asks if Anakin is going to kill him, Anakin does. While Anakin ultimately wins, it costs him his life. In this universe, the twins are raised by Ahsoka, Padmé, and Obi-Wan. ✦Time to Go by JediShampoo, obi-wan/padme & cast, 4.9k       Obi-Wan is leaving Alderaan and taking Luke with him. He and Padme must say their goodbyes. Stuff happens. ✦Primrose, Honeysuckle, Daffodil by ambiguously, obi-wan/padme (hinted) & anakin & qui-gon, 4.7k       While Qui-Gon recuperates from his battle with Darth Maul, Obi-Wan teaches Anakin his first early lessons in using the Force, and discovers the Force may have other plans for all of them. ✦Under a Cloud by thisbluespirit, obi-wan/padme & qui-gon & cast, 4.2k      It's been hundreds of years, and nobody believes in the Jedi any more. ✦Raising Up Hope by dreamiflame, obi-wan/padme, 1.5k       Family is what you make of it. Padmé, Obi-Wan and the twins are trying to make it work. ✦Refuge by Ljparis, rainydayadvocate, obi-wan/padme, 2k       On Mustafar, Padmé takes matters into her own hands. Obi-Wan is there for her when the dust settles. ✦The Pleasures of Life by AngelQueen, obi-wan/padme,NSFW, 6.2k       During her early months as a Senator, an irritating soirée takes an interesting, unexpected turn for Padmé. ✦Let My Second Love Be Kind by nichestars, obi-wan/padme & cast, 3.1k       When Padmé holds her children in her arms for the first time, she thinks: This is the fewest number of beings with which I have been entrusted since I was twelve years old. ✦Rumpled Collar by Corde_And_Dorme, obi-wan/padme (/anakin?) & cast, white collar fusion, 3.4k       The White Collar! AU that absolutely NOBODY asked for except one Discord channel like... months ago. ✦Little Lies by ambiguously, obi-wan/padme,NSFW, ~1k       It's just sex. That's what he tells himself. ✦Deferment by saltyavocado, obi-wan/padme & anakin, 5.4k      "This was my favorite room," Padmé says. "I used to send you messages from that very comm unit, you know. My handmaidens thought it was terribly romantic, so I never let them read the actual messages. They would've been devastated to discover that we really were talking aboutpolitics."

[callistochan87]

Staring at Earthia’s earlier design sheets for too long had me like

Me: Discordia’s design sure does look a lot like the Starlights.

Also me, knowing I will put effort into the stupid idea: Yeah, it sure does.

(I’m just mad I screwed up inking her face so badly compared to the sketch. it’s what I get for colouring on Bristol board (because it takes ink well) which isn’t as transparent as paper, and also my hand-eye coordination has apparently gone to hell)

Also I vaguely seem to remember once--maybe not now, but once--Helians were described as seeming very tall or elongated and/or slender compared to humans? Am I wrong? I’m wrong, but I wanted to play with proportions a bit and the Helians look just alien enough that I could do that, or I could if these were my characters. I did that with the original designs of the angels in SE, but that doesn’t really count because they’re canonically 12-14 feet tall so of course they look elongated next to a human. Wanted to try the same concept with characters closer in height to humans, since Aerona isn’t that much taller than Kai.

Although I see I went with the 9-heads-high example for the angel children (and 10 for the adults) so it’s not out of the realm of possibility. anyway these aren’t my characters, but that has stopped me zero times, alaso the end result isn’t so much unsettling as it is kinda hilarious. Sure, if you look at just the arms (the worst part), they do seem weirdly long, and Kai, as the human example, does look a bit stumpier by comparison, but using 9-heads-tall leads to the head size being proportionally smaller.

I suppose that means Kai and all the other aliens modelled off the purely human template might seem like giant-headed stumpy Neanderthals as far as the Helians are concerned, but like, Aerona’s teeny head and thin limbs (I was trying to go for a Disney look, with a very thin waist and narrow shoulders, but my sense of proportion got in the way) just seem hilarious by comparison, probably because the Helians would be the only ones like that. like, come on, Aerona looks like she’s bout to tell Obi-Wan 200,000 units are ready with a million more well on the way

also before i put hair on her she kind of looked like a deer. dunno if it’s the new ears (different from the way I usually drew them) or the horns, or the giant eyes and skinny limbs but it was a bit unsettling

Also can you just imagine how screwed the rest of the galaxy in the earthia-verse would be? The Helians always were the more ‘dominant’ of the three species in their system as far as I could tell, even more so that now all three species share a planet in this new version, if they made everything (clothes, etc.) to Helian proportions and not human it’d be just different enough to be a pain in the ass for literally everyone else. maybe that’s why the Aeolians and the Nereids go for the draped clothing look, a million years ago the Helians gifted them clothing and there was no way this weirdly skinny long tube thing was gonna fit, they had to take some seams out and tie them back together just to get them on, Helians just thought maybe the wings got in the way, or maybe they hadn’t figure out the whole ‘sewing’ thing yet

also also not sure why her legs don’t seem as long as her arms, but then again I put little effort into this, so it’s possible if I played with the proportions a bit more it might not be so bad, but these aren’t my characters so i don’t feel like expending that level of effort, as evidenced by how Kai looks like I stopped trying halfway through, because I did (her legs are like...going way the hell off to one side).

was this worth an entire doodle and not just a what if in my head? i mean probably not, but here we are