#basically they’re both padawans at the same time

[twobeesinatrenchcoat]

I am totally normal and definitely not starting a Star Wars x Good Omens AU.

[s-brant]

Teacher’s Pet

Anakin and Y/N’s relationship has always remained professional. Despite her obvious feelings for him, he never let himself entertain thoughts of reciprocating them…until now.

10k (18+)

Warnings: smut, oral sex (fem receiving), penetrative sex, cockwarming, exhibitionism, choking, strong language, inappropriate relationships, she’s his padawan but they’re both of age and he didn’t know her for that long, and hints of possible yandere anakin.

-

She knows it's wrong.

Every time he offers a mere glance in her direction in front of the others or rests a hand on her shoulder in a silent gesture to calm her in moments of particular anger, typically directed at the council, she feels as though she will burn alive from the sin she cannot stop committing. Not only is it against the Jedi code to form attachments, but for there to be an intimate attachment between Padawan and Master is an affront to everything they know. That being said, Anakin has never been the type to allow the rules to keep him from indulging the impulsive yearnings of his heart.

It wasn't intentional.

After all, he tried to keep himself under control since Y/N was given to him as his first apprentice. It seemed fitting at the time. Most of those in training were discovered and brought to the Jedi temple as younglings, yet Y/N was not. Hers was a path that was far more unconventional than most. He himself was an unconventional Jedi Master, so it only made sense to him that the council chose to place her with him. She was brought to them when she was a young teen, when Anakin himself was still learning under Obi-Wan, and she didn't see much of him for years.

There were always moments in which they would pass one another in corridors or end up in the same room, but they scarcely found reason to interact much with one another due to their respective responsibilities. Being older than most, Anakin included, when they were brought to the Jedi Order, she had to learn such basic knowledge at a rate others her age were given years to accomplish.

This impressed Anakin from a distance, however, he was too wrapped up in his own dealings at the time to concern himself with what someone four years his junior was doing at the time. It wasn't until after he passed his trials and became a Jedi Knight that their lives became intertwined.

It started with her.

When she first began training under him, she was much like an annoying young puppy, always nipping at his heels and following as his shadow with every step he took. It was clear for everyone to see that Anakin resented the fact that he had to deal with someone as hard-headed, relentless, and precocious as she, but all Obi-Wan could do was laugh at how blind Anakin was to miss the glaring similarities between him and his apprentice.

And where Anakin became annoyed with her, she became enamored with him. It was the classic case of the schoolgirl becoming infatuated with her teacher, which was part of what fueled his annoyance with her. He could feel it. When she was distracted or too comfortable, forgetting to shield her thoughts or emotions from him, he felt it. She might as well have been shouting her feelings out loud to him, and he prayed, on the rare occasions when it would happen in close proximity to others, that neither Obi-Wan nor any of the others picked up on them.

Mercifully, the images he saw coming from her mind were mostly innocent in nature during that first year they spent together. It never escalated past what was appropriate for a young woman of her age to fantasize about, and she never took it too far out of fear that he could, in fact, sense the direction of her thoughts. Later on, she became better at keeping those feelings and thoughts to herself, but, still, some managed to slip through the cracks.

It was months ago.

Now that three years had passed since he first took her on as his apprentice, she'd become a woman right before his very eyes. Of course, she was only a few years off from officially entering adulthood when they were first assigned together, but he always saw her as a child until the past year or so. Until he saw an image from her mind that changed things.

She was late to their agreed-upon meeting time in the morning, so he took it upon himself to seek her out for an explanation. Within him, he felt the anger bubbling up, poised to explode the second he found her doing whatever it was she felt was more important than their duties for the day, but the moment he got to the door of her private quarters, he halted in place. A strange sound came from within. He couldn't tell through the walls if it was a cry of pain or sorrow, but the sound of her crying worried him nonetheless. It sprung him into action, reaching out with his mind to see if he could feel her there, but what he found when he reached her wasn't what he expected.

Anakin is nothing if not protective and possessive over those he cares for, and his Padawan, whether he found her annoying at times or not, is someone of great importance to him. And, in all fairness to her, she hadn't been annoying to him for months. Slowly, the frequency of the images and feelings she practically shoved into his mind began to dwindle, and after years by his side, she no longer followed him around incessantly. In fact, he found himself searching for her wherever she wandered off to be by herself quite frequently and realized, underneath the cold exterior he put on to keep her at a distance, that he missed having her nipping at his heels all the time.

So, being as protective as he is toward those he cares for, he thought someone or something must have hurt her, whether it be emotionally or physically, to make her cry and didn't waste a second before trying to intervene. But there was no emotional or physical hurt to be found on the other side of that door. There was only pleasure.

There were positively lewd images coming to life in his apprentice's mind, but what stunned him most of all was that they were of him. No, them.

Anakin is no hypocrite. He would not admonish her for feeling sexual desire seeing that it wasn't directly against the Jedi code. Although he was sure Master Yoda and Obi-Wan would not approve, he had indulged in such desires before. As long as he did not form any attachments, there was nothing saying he couldn't, so he did. What she was doing, though...that was different.

He thought that it wouldn't have messed with his head so much if it weren't him she pictured pinning her to the mattress, thrusting into her with his ungloved prosthetic hand squeezing the sides of her throat, but that foolish idea quickly vanished. Once his mind actually wandered to the thought of someone else being the object of her desires, he became crazed with jealousy. No, he decided, he would never be okay with that. Even though he already had sex with others in the past, he couldn't stand the idea of her in the arms of another. It was always there, lingering beneath the surface, but even if it wasn't, he realized at that moment that he wanted her to himself.

That was when things changed between them.

Y/N had never known him to linger so much. He began to spend more time with her outside of their necessary training and missions they went on together, which meant the only time they spent apart was the hours that they slept at night. Then came the touching—his hand brushing the back of hers "accidentally" beneath the table as they ate, his arm thrown over her shoulder, and his hand on the small of her back to guide her in the right direction whenever she gets turned around. It appeared to her that he seized every opportunity he could to get his hands on her, but she didn't know what to do about it.

Wanting him had been one thing, but the possibility of Anakin wanting her back was another thing entirely. She felt safe in her assumption that nothing would ever happen between them, but everything changed last week.

He took her out soon after everyone was due to retire for the night and walked with her, shielded by their hoods, through the streets of Coruscant. Not wanting to be recognized in their Jedi robes, he came already wearing a rather unassuming, common cloak over a plain pair of pants and tunic. She changed out of her robes in the adjoining bathroom while he stood watch and waited, then came out with a nervous smile plastered on her face.

He said, "Come along," and turned toward the door to her rooms.

As they traversed the streets without as many people turning their heads to look at them as usual, she couldn't help but feel a weight come off her shoulders. Her hand twitched with the urge to reach for him, then, a second later, Anakin draped his arm over her shoulders and didn't protest when she reached up to entwine their fingers. It was strange, but she didn't dare to question it out of fear of losing the dreamlike moment too soon. She feared that if she spoke of it aloud, he'd realize his mistake and rectify it immediately. But she was wrong. Earlier that day when he saw her laughing with Obi-Wan, something within him snapped, and once he decided his fantasies of her weren't enough, there was nothing that could stop him from taking what was rightfully his short of her refusal to partake.

She held on tight to his hand as they entered a seedy-looking bar in the bowels of the city, eyes turning wide at how those surrounding them indulged in drinking, dancing, and even kissing out in the open without shame. Sending her feeling of surprise, he found his assumptions about his Padawan to be true—she had never gone out and entertained her fantasies as he had during his training.

He didn't let her drink, even though he noticed how she eyed up the people sitting at the bar with great interest.

"What are we doing here?" she asked, standing alongside him with her back to the wall.

"I've sheltered you. When I was in training, I figured these things out for myself. I know Obi-Wan wouldn't have encouraged it."

"Master?" she asked with a quizzical expression.

Anakin said nothing. His face was unreadable, a mask of calm that gave her no clues as to what emotions lurked beneath, and when she tried to sense his mood through the force, he was able to resist her. Being as advanced of a Jedi as him, it's harder for her to reach for his mind than it is with her fellow Padawans. Rather than explain his meaning, he turned and made his way to the back hallway, but not without taking her by the hand to guide her. The leather of his glove was cold on the bare palm of her hand. She could feel the hard material of his metal hand through the fabric as it gripped hers.

In a room at the end of the hall, a series of couches and chairs were laid out across the open space and occupied by scantily clad workers engaged in intimate relations with customers.

He spoke, slowing down to allow her to step in front of him, "I used to come here. When I found myself wanting to act on the types of urges that lead to attachments."

Her brows furrowed, though, deep down, she suspected where the night may lead them. No, where he was leading them.

"Is that why we're here?" she asked, breathless, then looked over at a woman who was on her knees before a man in front of them.

There was a wide-eyed, almost excited, curiosity to her gaze that set Anakin's body aflame. Yet, at the same time, it was nothing she had ever seen or engaged in before, so it caused her to take a step back into where he stood at her back. Her breath hitched in her throat at the feeling of his arm slipping around her waist, pulling her back until there was no space left between their bodies. Then, he crouched down to bring his face to her neck and delighted in how easily her head turned to make space for him. The hand flattened against her belly could sense that she was holding her breath in anticipation.

"Go on," Anakin said, his hot exhales clouding against the sensitive skin of her neck, "Choose one. I know you've been curious."

And while she had already stopped breathing, the last thing he said made her entire body go still. He knew. Somehow, he knew. When his metal hand came up to grab the base of her neck and squeeze it gently, she knew he was answering the question she unknowingly asked him.

In answer, she ground the curve of her ass against the presence of his growing erection and said, "I don't want any of them."

What happened afterward left her in a frazzled state of disarray for days. All of her friends noticed the change in behavior, yet she waved it off as not having gotten enough sleep lately and pretended not to be thinking of how Anakin had fucked her in front of all those people at that bar. Granted, everyone in that room was accustomed to it, but, to her, it was the most scandalous thing imaginable.

Anakin, on the other hand, made a fair attempt at hiding how he felt about it. Even when Obi-Wan asked him if Y/N was okay, saying that she'd been acting off, he kept his cool and said he had everything taken care of with his apprentice. It wasn't the first time he spoke to Obi-Wan about her behavior. When he first took her on and began training her, he sought his master out for advice on how to handle the—at the time—one-sided crush she had on him. And, for a while, Anakin followed the guidance provided to him by his mentor. He tried. He really tried, but, in the end, he couldn't help himself.

The past few days, however, have been an exercise in discretion on both of their parts.

They've been trapped inside of a ship with Obi-Wan all day, battered and exhausted from a battle which they hardly escaped from unscathed, on the journey back to Coruscant.

She sits on her own, trying to busy herself with inspecting the superficial wound she sustained on her outer thigh amidst the scuffle, while Anakin pilots the ship with Obi-Wan sitting beside him in the cockpit. It isn't deep enough to require attention beyond basic cleaning and bandaging, so she decides to leave it be until they return to the Jedi Temple where she can properly wash it. It won't be long now if what she overheard moments ago was true. Apparently, they're due to land in Coruscant in a matter of moments, and she couldn't be any happier to hear it.

It's been difficult these past few days. Not only due to their efforts to stop Dooku's attempt to kidnap Chancellor Palpatine, but because of what happened between them last week. Because of everything that has been left unsaid. It's not as if she can blame him for it. There are far too many eyes on them at all times of day for there to be an opportunity to talk about it, and once they caught wind of Dooku's plans, it was no longer a priority.

Anakin can feel her staring.

In fact, he's felt her eyes on him for the whole duration of the trip. His knuckles tightened on the controls of the ship as he resisted the urge to turn to catch a glimpse of his pretty apprentice. Thankfully, she had the foresight to keep her thoughts as innocent as possible to prevent Obi-Wan from picking up on any of it. He may be able to tense the tension surrounding them, but that could be easily written off as a consequence of their mission. He knows how much Anakin cares for her, and seeing her injured at the hands of the enemy sent him into a frenzy, keeping Dooku constantly on the defensive until he managed to escape. Obi-Wan watched as Anakin rushed over and demanded to see where she'd been hurt, on guard for any potential threat while the two of them assessed her minor injury.

It isn't until he feels Obi-Wan's hand on his shoulder and yet he realizes he landed the ship, having operated on instinct as he became lost in his thoughts of her.

"You did well," he says, then his face softens, "She's strong. She'll be fine. Don't blame yourself for it."

Anakin nods.

"I know. It wasn't anyone's fault. She was to learn how to handle losing and getting hurt somehow, doesn't she?"

This response seems to please him.

"Yes. Now, you can escort her to a medic. I'll brief the council on what happened with Dooku."

With that, Obi-Wan turns to walk away and disappears past his line of sight. Before he leaves the ship, he offers a few words of praise to Y/N on his way past. And after days of being forced to ignore what happened between them, they're finally alone. The energy in the room shifts the second Obi-Wan is gone. They can feel the tension in the air sizzling like a current of electricity between them. It's palpable. Through the force, they can feel each other's emotions flaring up into something uncontrollable after days of keeping themselves on tight leashes.

She hangs her head low as he comes to a stop in front of her.

"I'm sorry, master. I'll be better next time," she says softly.

In lieu of a verbal response, he outstretches his flesh hand to her in a silent command.

Her voice is hushed when she asks, "Anakin?" and he thinks his heart may beat out of his chest at the sound of her saying his name. The last time he heard his name fall from her lips, he was buried inside of her with one hand wrapped in her hair and the other gripping her hip for leverage to thrust into her.

"You didn't do anything wrong," he says before she drives herself mad with guilt over how the fight unfolded. "Come on, let's get you fixed up."

His hand is warm. It's larger, closing tightly around hers and using that unrelenting strength of his to tug her to her feet. Seeing that he held an arm around her waist on the way back to the ship before they departed—just in case she walked with a limp, he doesn't let go of her. He simply moves his hand to grab hold of her arm instead to keep the contact from looking too intimate when they enter the Jedi Temple together. Holding hands would look odd to any passerby, but no one would think twice about him holding her arm for support with a visible blood stain on her pant leg.

Actually, most people try to stop and ask if she's alright, but all it takes is a polite, "I'm fine," from her to get them to back off. In truth, she is fine. The skin is sliced open from the end of Dooku's lightsaber barely grazing her thigh in the midst of the fighting. She anticipated his next move and made sure to dodge, but it was a second too late. All Anakin saw was her groaning from the pain and stumbling back a few steps with her hand on her thigh before he rushed forward to defend her.

It's not a severe cut, but, of course, Anakin must make a fuss about helping her walk. She soon notices that he isn't guiding her to the medic's room, they're walking in the direction of his private rooms. They're on the opposite side across from hers, males separated from females, and he can feel her squeezing him tighter in reaction to it. He also senses her excitement. It lights up her face as she looks at him, analyzing every minute movement and twitch in his expression in hopes that she may yield something from it. He doesn't appear to be as paranoid as she is about someone seeing them go into his room together. When she turns her head from one side to the other to keep a lookout, he stares ahead and keeps pulling her down the hallway.

It isn't until the door is shut and locked behind them that she can finally let out the breath she's been holding since she realized where he was taking them. Before she can say a single word to him, he grabs her by the face and rushes forward to kiss her.

Y/N melts into the warmth of the hard, muscular body pressing into hers and reaches out to brace her hands on his biceps as she stumbles back a step from the impact of him crashing into her. Amidst the sudden arousal sparked by kissing him, their parted lips press hard into one another's in a dance for dominance that leaves them both breathless.

As soon as they pull apart, she's reaching for the band of his pants hidden beneath his robes, but he doesn't let her. Her hand is stopped short in its tracks and held in an invisible hand that keeps her from palming his cock through his pants as she planned on doing. Their lips part with the wet smacking sound, and he shakes his head against hers.

"You're bleeding," Anakin says as an explanation for the abrupt rejection that leaves her chasing after his lips as he withdraws from her.

She shakes her head and looks up at him with wide, pleading eyes.

"It doesn't hurt."

A lie, of course, and not one she pretends to think fooled him in any capacity.

Playing along, he furrows his brows and allows the side of his mouth to upturn in a smirk. "Oh, it doesn't hurt?" he asks, reaching down to gently squeeze her injured thigh.

The sudden pain that pulses through her leg makes her body jerk against him, drawing a stifled grunt from her lips. As soon as he lets go, she's already smacking him on the arm and calling him every bad name in the book for pulling that little stunt.

"That was mean!" she whines and tries to twist her way out of his grasp, but he holds on tightly to her.

He says through a soft chuckle, "Well if you just behave and let me help you, I won't have to be mean."

At first, she huffs in annoyance, prepared to roll her eyes at him as she's grown accustomed to doing whenever he teases her now that she's grown out of wanting to please him all the time. Then, she takes note of how the cut, already cauterized from the weapon that made it, stings since he put pressure on it. There's a fresh spot of blood blooming on her pant leg, and she can't find it in herself to refuse his help.

Ever the obedient apprentice, Y/N says, "Yes, master," and walks past him in pursuit of the bedroom that is visible from where they stand.

It's difficult for Anakin to repress the noise that longs to escape him at the sound of her calling him that. She may not know the extent of what it does to him yet, but on some level, she must know that it turns him on. As wrong as it may be, he hasn't been able to withstand her calling him that for months. The shame he felt every time his cock twitched in his pants at the sound of it was too great to measure, but it wasn't enough to keep him from arousal.

He takes his time in gathering what he needs before meeting her in his bedroom.

Everything is stowed away in a designated cupboard for instances where he returns to his rooms with a scrape or cut, but he can sense that she's seconds from bursting with anticipation, so he draws it out for the sake of allowing her to suffer for a moment.

When he walks in, he takes one glance at her and simply says, "In here," then disappears into the adjoining bathroom she had yet to notice.

She smiles to herself and follows along right away. Through the opening in the door, she can see him at the counter, laying down the supplies he gathered and pretending like he's not paying attention to her even though they both know he is. The light in the small room is warm. The orange-yellow tone of it brings out the lighter undertones of his hair, and she can't help but reach up to brush it back from his face.

Anakin goes still for a split-second, then leans into where her hand makes contact with the side of his head in a movement so slight, she questions whether or not she actually saw it.

His gloved cybernetic hand pats the open counter space once.

"Up," he commands.

Obviously, he doesn't expect her to do it herself with the cut running up the side of her thigh, so once she puts her hands on the countertop for support, he takes it upon himself to grab her on the underside of her thighs, careful to stay away from her wound, and hoist her up onto the counter.

The silence is overwhelming on its own, but with the natural tension that always spikes whenever they're alone together added to it, she can hardly breathe. He makes quick work of her pants and shimmies them down her hips with little effort. The contact of the fabric brushing against the open, bloody skin causes her to wince, but he's quick to murmur an apology. Other than what he did in his bedroom to test the honesty of her claim, he'd never do anything to hurt her. At least, not on purpose.

She watches him dampen a washcloth with warm, soapy water and kneel down in front of her, then braces herself for when it'll make contact with the laceration. To give credit where it's due, she only flinches a tiny bit as he wipes down the length of her thigh.

After another moment of this, she finally summons the courage to ask the burning question she's had since the night they spent in the city together.

"Are we ever going to talk about what we did?"

This halts his movements for a second. The hand using holding the soapy rag moves from her leg to toss it into the sink, then picks up another soaked in water to rinse the soap from her skin. At first, he doesn't answer her question. He just squeezes the water out of the cloth and allows it to wash the mixture of blood and soap from her thigh. It takes a few seconds of hesitation for him to acknowledge what she said.

He looks up at her, and, suddenly, every fear she had that it was a one-time thing, that he used his power over her for sexual gratification, is blown away like dust in the wind. His eyes are soft when looking at her. So unlike the cruel, steely-eyed glare she watched him give Dooku when she was hit by his lightsaber.

Anakin tosses the soiled cloth into the sink alongside the first one and reaches for the gauze pads he unwrapped before she came in.

"You're ready to talk about it?" he asks with an undercurrent of skepticism.

What he doesn't say—what she can feel through the force as well as the powerful connection they've developed—is that if she is ready to have that conversation, there's no going back. He kept himself at bay for far too long, and if she wants him the way he wants her, he's prepared to risk everything for it. That's the thing about Anakin. He lives in extremes, and now that she has become the target of his fixations, there's nothing he wouldn't do for her.

She nods.

In the silence that follows, she's left to assume that he's offering her the chance to speak first lest his assumption as to where this is headed ends up being wrong. He busies himself for the time being by pressing the gauze pads down onto her wound with harsh pressure to keep her from bleeding anymore, and reaches for the medical tape to secure them in place.

"I liked it..." Y/N says softly. "But"—his chest stops moving up and down at the use of the word—"what if they find out? We've been taught that attachments are bad, but, every time I'm with you, I can't help but wonder how it could be so inherently bad if it feels so right."

Her thigh is lifted from the countertop under guidance from his gloved hand as the other wraps her wound, packed with gauze, with a bandage to keep everything in place. Still, he has yet to look at her again. His eyes are fixed on her injured thigh with an intensity that would frighten many, but not her. Never her. Without a second to spare, he finishes wrapping her thigh and looks up at her from between her legs.

He shakes his head, the sharp motion of it toeing the line of being neurotic, and he slides his flesh hand up the length of her unharmed thigh. It comes to a stop at her hip, teasing the edge of her undergarments.

"You know, they're not always right about everything," Anakin says. His pointer finger slides until it reaches the band of the thin fabric separating his touch from where she wants it most. During this, his gaze never leaves her face. "They'll never need to know about us. We're alone together all the time and nobody questions it because it's for the sake of your training. The council doesn't think anything of it." His mouth curves up at the end again in one of those terribly charming half-smiles that weakens her knees. The tone of his voice turns soft, yet deadly serious when he says, "I'll protect you if it comes to that."

Not missing a beat, she counters, "I don't need your protection."

He huffs a laugh at this.

"I know that. You're powerful. That's why they put us together." He reaches up with his gloved hand to take hold of the opposite side of her underwear, a signal for her to lift her hips off the counter. A signal she complies with without thought. "I just meant that, together, they can't stop us from doing what we want." His eyes soften as he slips the garment off around her ankles. "From being with who we want." A beat of silence. His soft lips press into the inside of her thigh, inching up and up and up all while he keeps eye contact..."They can try but they won't take you from me."

At last, when his head is nudging her thighs further apart and his lips brush the pulsing heat that lies between them, he senses her surrender.

Y/N's head tips back, mouth falling open with a quiet moan, when he licks into her. The arousal is sticky where it coats his lips and chin, and he can't help but hum in approval of the distinct scent and taste of her that overwhelms his senses. This was something he didn't get the chance to do in that questionable back room at the bar. It wasn't as if he didn't prepare her for it, he warmed her up with his fingers, but it wasn't exactly the kind of place he wanted to do this at. He didn't want anyone else to see her undressed. Seeing that her robes covered her the whole time, he didn't have to worry about it that night.

It starts out as gentle, tentative licks that circle her clit without giving it as much attention as she wants. He works her up to it slowly, as if to taunt her, and it isn't until her fingers begin to tug at the strands of his overgrown hair that he gives in. Her hips jerk forward against his face instinctively when he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks hard for the sake of drawing a noise out of her. Of course, he gets what he wants. The heavenly sound she makes has his cock straining against the confines of his pants, and there's nothing he can do to satisfy it unless he resorts to rutting up against the cabinets beneath the sink.

Every breath she exhales becomes shakier as the seconds pass with his head buried between her thighs.

"M-Master," she whines, unsure of whether or not it's appropriate to use his name yet. She's only ever called him by his first name when the situation at hand causes her to forget her place. Considering that he's currently going down on her, he'd say that they're well past the point of such formalities, but he also likes that there's still a touch of obedience left in her. "That feels so good..."

His lips leave her clit for a second to allow him to dip his tongue into her entrance to get a better taste of her. Both of his hands are now gripping her hips to keep them in place as he ruins his apprentice with little regret or guilt left to flow through him. Past the point of no return, he no longer clings to his last scraps of morality in regard to his strange relationship with her. In the days following their secret tryst, he was trapped in a strange internal debate. He was torn between duty and love, caught between unstable moods that caused him to become hot and cold with her depending on whose company they were in. Whenever Obi-Wan was near, he couldn't allow himself to interact with her as he typically does. He didn't know if he could control himself.

The hand wrapped up in his honey-hued hair tugs on it once, and he just assumes it's because of what he's doing to her. A second later, she's pulling again, but it's harder, as though she's trying to get his attention. When he pulls his mouth away from her and looks up, her other hand reaches down to cradle his face. It guides him up and up and up until they're face to face again, and she kisses him once before speaking into the small space left between them.

"I want you," she whispers with her forehead pressed to his.

Anakin smiles and nudges her nose with his.

"You have me."

When they kiss again, she moans at the taste of herself covering the lips pressed to hers as well as the tongue that gently licks into her mouth. The fingers twirling the loose curls of hair at the back of his neck use their position to keep him trapped in the hot, open-mouthed kiss with her. There are no objections on his end, of course. If it weren't for their duties as Jedi, he would want to take her far away where no one could ever find them and spend the rest of his days this way.

She says the second she gets the chance, "You know what I mean," in regards to what was said before he distracted her.

To this, he sighs, and it isn't a frustrated sound, nor is it a tired one. It's the way a person sighs when they're placed before something in life that they know is bigger than themselves, resigning themselves to their fate not with reluctance but with acceptance.

"Mmm," he hums, then says, "I know. I just have one condition."

She nods.

"Use my name when we're alone," he whispers.

The request sends her mind reeling as he picks her up from the bathroom counter with her legs clinging around his hips and carries her off into his bedroom. Her arms are flung around his neck in a frantic bid to keep herself from falling, yet all he can do is laugh at her sudden panic. As if he would ever let her fall. His lips press a tender kiss to the warm curve of her neck on the short walk into the room, and that small action makes a world of a difference to her. Every insecurity or fear she had after their first time is assuaged by his honesty and the care he shows for her in everything he does tonight.

Although the door is locked and she knows that Obi-Wan and the others are meeting to discuss what occurred on their mission, he still feels the need to close the door to his room before setting her down on her feet before the end of his bed. All that's left to cover her is her utility belt and tunic, which is already torn at the shoulder leading down to her elbow from the fight that later caused the injury to her thigh.

She stands still and allows him to unfasten the belt from around her waist, although, the contact of his hands brushing her body makes it difficult for her to breathe as calmly and deeply as usual. Despite how familiar they already are with one another in terms of physical intimacy, her face flushes with heat at the idea of him seeing her fully undressed.

With her tunic then lifted from her body and tossed aside, she stands in front of him without anything left to shield herself from his intense gaze. His eyes look her up and down, then come back to settle on her face with an appreciation that causes her stomach to flutter with nerves. The air is cold against her nipples, which harden from both the exposure and the undivided attention being given to her.

He reaches across the space between them to brush his fingertips against her skin, but just when he's about to make contact, she stops him. She grabs his wrist and looks up at him through her lashes defiantly, then smirks at him.

"It's my turn."

He does her the courtesy of undoing the greaves guarding his shins and kicking off his shoes, but, after that, she begins with his utility belt.

It comes loose from his lean waist and is tossed aside onto the floor where he discarded hers in a matter of seconds, but, after that, every move she makes is deliberately slower than the last. She can sense how eager he is. The energy coming off of him practically rattles the room with its commanding presence, and it worsens with every second she draws this torment out. With the belt out of the way, it's easy for her to slip the tabard off of his shoulders. All of the layers would typically frustrate her when taking her clothes off to bathe herself, but it's different now. When undressing Anakin, the tedious nature of it makes everything feel more sensual to her.

Finally, once his overtunic and undertunic are pulled from his torso, she is met with the sight of him bare before her. Well, partly. The dying daylight illuminates him for her, allowing her to admire what she was not able to the first time.

The tips of her fingers graze his skin with a feathery-light touch as she drags them down from the base of his neck down to his abdomen. Beneath them, hard, taut muscle pushes back against the gentle pressure they exert. And she finds, as she allows herself to inspect him further as though he's a miraculous species wholly unknown to her, that she quite enjoys the way his stomach flinches inward in anticipation when she reaches the waistband of his loose-fitting pants.

As her right hand works at undoing his pants, the left reaches for the glove covering his cybernetic arm. Finger by finger, she tugs it away until she's able to slip it off of him and let it fall to the floor with the rest of his clothes. When she looks up from where the fake hand rests at his side, she finds him staring at her as though he's trying to analyze every thought that crosses her mind now that he's the one put in a position of vulnerability.

Y/N's hands brace against his shoulders now, and she stares right back at him without fear. The hand that just slipped his glove off of his arm creeps up his neck until it's cupping the side of his head. All the while, he's still watching her. Even as she runs her thumb along the length of the scar that cuts through his eyebrow down to the top of his right cheekbone.

Their lips are a hair's breadth apart now, so close that they can feel the heat of one another's exhales hitting their faces, and when Anakin dips his head down to kiss her again for the first time in what feels like (two minutes) an eternity, she's quick to jerk her head back enough to keep it from happening.

"I'm not done yet," she whispers, their lips brushing with every word. "You had your fun, now let me have mine."

His head shakes. Just once.

Anakin murmurs, "I need you," and there's a small part of him that knows how pathetic he must appear to her right now, clinging onto her by the curve of her waist and desperately trying to connect their mouths in a kiss, but he doesn't care. There's a rosy blush spread across his face extending to his ears, yes, but there's something about her that sets him at ease. He may feel shy about it, but it doesn't stop him from using his grip on her waist to press her body closer to his and say softly, "Please."

Oh, the things that hearing him beg does to her...

At this point, she can't help herself. There's nothing she can do to stop her from pouncing on him as she does the second she hears him utter that word, tossing her arms around his broad shoulders and jumping to wrap her legs around his hip. He intercepts her unexpected actions with a grace very few others could have, but, with their connection, he has a way of anticipating what she says and does before it happens.

He grabs hold of her thighs without thinking of the injury she sustained battling Dooku, then immediately murmurs an apology once he senses her pain and hears her wince into his mouth as he walks her back toward the bed.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," he whispers, kissing her once, twice, three times. "Are you okay?"

Where her face is pressed up against his, he feels her nod and takes that as his cue to set her down atop the sheets that he left unmade and twisted upon waking in the early hours of the morning the day they left. The sun, the light that had illuminated his half-naked body to her a moment ago, is beginning to slip partway below the horizon and washes the sky gold in its absence. That fading light shines in through the windows and creates a hazy glow around her, and, for a second, he thinks she might be an angel.

Both of their hands frantically scramble to push his undone pants down, along with his undergarments, as he climbs onto the bed after her. They're kicked from where they fall around his ankles before he settles himself between her eagerly spread thighs. Neither of them can bear to wait any longer, so the second he gets within arm's reach of her, she grabs him by his biceps and tries to pull him up to meet her faster.

The soft palm of her hand grazes down the length of his chest once again, but, this time, there's nothing left to prevent her from touching him. Her forehead is pressed to his, her chin tilted down, and she watches her hand wrap around his thick cock to guide him to her entrance. She pumps her closed fist around him a few times with her thumb brushing over his leaking tip just for the sake of hearing his breath hitch in his throat from it.

There's no need to get it over with quickly seeing that Obi-Wan reporting to the council about their mission will likely take up to an hour, but, the thing is, they both know they don't have the patience to make it last. They're both too rash and antsy when it comes to one another after days of avoidance, and she thinks she may die if she doesn't have him right now. Everything with Anakin feels natural. It feels like this is where she's meant to be and exactly what they're meant to be doing together. She may not have known it until recently but there has always been that thread connecting them. From the beginning, it was there. It was only a matter of time before one of them tugged on it.

She can hardly string together a sentence once she feels the broad tip of him pushing into her, "Oh"—her nails dig into his arms hard enough to break the skin and continue to apply more pressure as he sinks into her—"Anakin..."

Her bottom lip is bitten between her teeth at the feeling of him buried inside of her, so deep that she can feel the bony prominence of his hip bones pressing into the soft flesh of her thighs. And she knows it's affecting him just as much from how his metal hand squeezed her hip hard enough to leave finger-shaped indents behind on her skin. Although she's ready for him to move, she can tell that he's waiting for himself to be ready. His eyes are fluttered shut, forehead pressed to hers, and she can tell he's trying not to let himself be overcome by how good it feels.

What he said to her days ago at the bar wasn't a lie, he has done this multiple times before, but it's never too often. It was only a means to an end, a way to satisfy the urge he felt guilt and shame for having in the first place. This is different than those other times for him. Seeing that it's her he's doing this with, he can hardly control himself and refrain from spending in her in the span of a moment much like he did the first time he had sex.

After a moment has passed and his breathing has turned deep and even, she whispers, nudging his nose with hers, "Look at me."

The second she says it, he obeys, and she didn't expect to find him being to her will to be so...alluring. As her master, he's the one who typically commands. She is the one who listens, who serves, who obeys, but, right now, everything is backward. Anakin looks down at her for guidance with the same hunger and desire as before but softened around the edges.

His hair is soft to the touch when her fingers play with it, and she uses her grip on his scalp to pull his lips down to hers.

"Fuck me," she murmurs into his mouth as they engage in a lazy kiss. Her hips press up into his in a silent urging for him to move that he listens to immediately with a tentative thrust.

His arms cage her in on either side of her head as he licks into her mouth with his tongue and starts to fuck into her at a relaxed pace. Still, even with how slow and tender it may be, she feels him so deep inside of her, she wonders if she could feel him there if she pressed her palm flat against the bottom of her stomach. The languid undulations of his hips guiding his cock in and out of her builds on the pleasure he had given her earlier.

Last time, it had been painful when he first entered her, but, this time, there was only a slight sense of pressure, if being overwhelmed, that gave way to the pleasant feeling she found toward the end of their first intimate encounter. Even when she found it somewhat uncomfortable at the beginning, she still wanted it for the sake of being close to him. Of being the one to make him feel good. And now that it feels good almost straight away, she is overwhelmed with how badly she wants him. Nothing is ever going to be enough for her, is it? Even as they're kissing and fucking and grabbing at one another in a frenzy of need, she still wants more of him.

One of her hands slides down the length of his body and grabs his hip to guide him into a faster pace with every thrust.

"Just like that," she says between panting breaths.

The words of praise cause his face to flush for what feels like the tenth time since they retreated to the privacy of his rooms, and it doesn't go unnoticed by her. Despite the fact that he holds power over her as her master, she senses his desire for her to take control and take care of him. To treat him with the reverence and praise he is so scarcely granted anywhere else in his life. So, she takes control. He may have the physical advantage with his considerable strength and position on top of her, but only a fool would think he's the one in power here. The second she told him to look at her, he willingly gave it up.

Her other hand, the one that isn't holding onto his hip, comes up to card through the long tufts of hair on the back of his head. She pulls it taut from his scalp to maneuver his face away, creating a short distance that allows them to stare into each other's eyes as they're both overcome with the sensation of it all. His brows pinch together a little at the feeling of her tight walls squeezing down around him on the upstroke of his thrusts as though she's trying to push him closer to the precipice he refuses to fall from without bringing her along with him. It doesn't feel like he's the experienced one here even though he's been doing this much longer than her. It almost makes him scoff. He should've known that she'd take to this quickly just as she does with everything else. His smart girl.

"Fuck," Anakin curses under his breath and truly starts to throw himself into it now. "You feel"—his sentence starts and stops before he can string it together, so he abandons it altogether in favor of spewing the first, most vulnerable thought that springs to mind—"Promise you'll never leave me."

If she's being honest, the unrestrained honesty in his request addles her brain far more than the sex itself. However, it doesn't scare her away as he fears it will. Maybe it's a little sick, but she likes how desperate he is for her. How could she not enjoy the simple truth that she is the only one who can bring the great Anakin Skywalker to his knees? It's a beautiful thing to see him in such a state of mindless bliss.

Her arms twine around his waist in a tight embrace to bring their bodies closer than they already are somehow, and when she opens her mouth to speak, she's interrupted by a moan that leaves her suddenly at the feeling of him hitting a sweet spot inside of her. When she pulled him down onto her until their bodies were flush, it adjusts the angle of his thrust and puts delightful pressure on her clit with his pubic bone. After taking a second to relish in the sensation, she looks up at him through heavy-lidded eyes and lifts her head up from the mattress to kiss him.

She murmurs into his open mouth, "I won't." The next thrust he makes into her is significantly harder than the rest have been in reaction. "I'll never leave you, Ani. I promise."

The sound he makes in response almost pushes her over the edge. It's somewhere caught between a moan and a whine, a thrilling noise that makes her tense around him once more and writhe beneath the weight of his body pinning her to the bed. A familiar tension stirs in the pit of her abdomen now. It crescendos into territory where the stimulation almost becomes unbearable, begging to explode as it did the last time in an earth-shattering climax that left her limp and incoherent in his arms.

Since he can sense how close she's getting, he doesn't change anything. He pulls back as much as he can without shifting the position and watches her in utter fascination. It's the little things that get him—how her nose scrunches a little when it starts to get to be too much, the way she looks up at him like she's in a daze, and how his name sounds coming from her pretty, kiss-swollen lips. They shine in the dim light from a mixture of their saliva, and he can't resist the urge to lean down to connect them with his again.

And this makes her smile. Everything about it makes her radiate joy, an emotion he can feel her projecting onto him without trying to shield it. Like him, she adores the little things—how his hair tickles her forehead the whole time, the sound of his moans, and how he never eases his grip on her as though he's afraid she'll disappear in the event that he lets go. On top of that, she likes how warm he is. She's come to realize over the past week that Anakin is the human embodiment of a furnace. Every time he pulls her near, she takes comfort in the heat that comes from his body, and, as of the current moment, she loves it.

His skin is hot to the touch where it meets hers, covered in a thin sheen of perspiration that greets her tongue with a salty taste when she dips her face into his neck to kiss him there. Her teeth nip at his skin and leave a faint mark behind that they both know will be hidden by his clothes later. With her nearing climax, she can't do much other than claw at his upper back and try to stifle the sounds she's making in case anyone is nearby.

Her lips stop moving against his neck, not because she'd ever want to stop kissing him, but because she can't function beyond the mindless bucking of their hips and the slack-jawed sounds she lets out. Her head thumps back onto the bed without a sound, back arching up against him, and her legs constrict around his hips to prevent him from going anywhere but closer.

As for Anakin, nothing could rile him up the way she does. Every stroke inside of her collapses any shred of sense and logic left in him, leaving behind just the primal urges that currently guide him.

Knowing how close she is, Y/N asks with her face pressed to his, leaning into the role he inadvertently pushed her into, "Are gonna be good for me?"

Even through the hazy state of mind he's in, he finds a way to nod when she asks him this. He's so far gone that he isn't sure he can form the words to verbally respond to her. All he knows is that she's here. She's here, and she's caring for him, and she promised she'd never leave. That's the sole thing occupying his mind as she offers him a sweet smile and plays with his hair the way she knows he likes.

"That's right," she says softly, then pauses for a second to stifle a moan. His frantic pursuit of their respective orgasms leaves them both trembling in each other's arms while she tries to maintain enough composure to speak to him through it. Every time he slams his hips down into hers, sheathing his cock in her sodden cunt and hitting that sweet spot without fail, she can almost feel the relief that's soon to find her. "I don't know what you would've done if you weren't my master"—his cybernetic hand grips her throat with enough pressure to use it as leverage but not to prevent her from speaking—"How long have you been waiting for me, Ani?"

Despite his previous assumption that he no longer had the ability to speak, he responds instantly between his panting breaths, "My whole life—"

His words are cut off by the downright pornographic display that is her orgasm. It comes on suddenly, without a warning for him to prepare himself, and he groans at how tight she becomes through the intense peaks that reduce her to a tensing, shaking mess beneath him. It is somehow twice as intense as the one given to her in that seedy bar he escorted her to last week. It wouldn't surprise her if she makes him bleed with how harshly her nails dig into his flesh, but that's far beneath her at this point. The pleasure wipes her mind clean of everything but him. In her head, she hears it like a prayer over and over and over again—Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.

Her master—who is now pounding into her and keeping her pinned to his mattress with his body weight throughout her climax. He fucks her through every second of it, prolonging the all-consuming pleasure far longer than it ever lasts when she touches herself.

Then, something new happens.

Just at the end of her climax as she begins to feel it recede as it always does, she thinks she feels another coming on. This has never happened to her before in her limited experience. Most of the time, touching herself is a quick affair before she fell asleep that felt good, but it wasn't anything like this. She can sense that it surprises him too when he feels her tight walls spasming around his cock for the second time in a row, and this is all it takes to push him over the edge.

Anakin clings to her as though she is the only thing tethering him to this planet, stilling inside of her with a low moan as she watches him come apart for her. She already thought he was beautiful before, but, fuck, he's utterly divine like this. He has always been above the others in her eyes, not only as a Jedi but as a person—a deity for her to worship and learn from as his Padawan. But, now that worship is intensified by what she sees, hears, and feels when he comes. The hand around her neck squeezes hard enough to keep her from taking in air.

Her head is tilted back against the mattress, her jaw slack, and her back arches up, pressing her bare breasts against the toned musculature of his chest that clenches throughout his orgasm. She can feel him throbbing inside her with every spurt of his release that floods and spills out of her at the base of his cock.

Even after half a moment passes, they both remain like this without moving despite how the sensitivity causes them to tremble. Her chest falls when his rises in a push and pull much like that of the tides as they pant for air. He keeps his face buried in her neck the entire time and doesn't retreat from the hiding spot until he feels her hand tracing up and down the length of his spine absentmindedly. It wakes him from the post-orgasmic haze and forces him to remember that, although they have some time to themselves, they have to meet with Obi-Wan shortly after he's finished reporting to the council.

Still, he doesn't pull out of her yet.

He asks instead, not wanting it to end, "Can we stay like this for a minute?" and sighs in relief when she mutters back a quick word of approval.

She keeps her arms wrapped around his chest to trap him in her embrace and continues to rub up and down his sweat-slick back in a soothing pattern. It almost causes his eyes to close and submit to the alluring gravitational pull of sleep that longs to drag him under. With the clarity of her thoughts returning, she can't ignore the worries that come to mind in regard to how they'll manage to hide this from the others.

Without her even having to voice these worries aloud, Anakin pulls his face from her neck and brushes her hair from her face with his flesh hand, looking down upon her with a tender gaze.

"It'll be okay," he says softly, and, for a second, she thinks she believes him. She thinks she'd believe anything he says for the next few moments. "They'll never know. Even if they end up suspecting it, there won't be a way to prove it."

She asks, face twisted with concern, "Are you sure?" and, suddenly, they're pushed back into their natural roles with her looking to him, someone she considers far wiser, for guidance and reassurance.

Though there's a slight smile, though the adoration for her remains present in his expression, there's a flicker of darkness in his gaze, and his arms tighten around her waist seemingly in response to it. As he had when they were writhing together in pleasure not long ago, he holds onto her as though someone or something will come along to take her from his possession the second he eases his hold on her. Those pretty blue eyes never once stray from hers.

Anakin keeps the side of her head cupped in one of his hands and says, "Nothing will ever take you from me."

[daughterofthequeen]

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

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x padawan!reader

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

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

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

No.

No, no, no, no, NO!

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

He’s dead.

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

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

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

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

“Nothing. We’ve looked everywhere.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“(Y/n)! What’s wrong?” Silence.

“(Y/n), talk to me!”

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

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

“You’re alive.”

“Wha-? Yeah? Why wouldn’t I be?”

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

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

𝟺 𝙼𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚑𝚜 𝙻𝚊𝚝𝚎𝚛:

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

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

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

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

“No, master. I’m sorry, master.”

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

“It’s fine, what’s on your mind?”

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

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

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

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

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

BOOM!!!

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

BOOM!!!

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

“Trooper! Are you ok?!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Rex!”

“Commander, you’re alright!”

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

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

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

“The bombs are about to detonate any second!”

“Anakin is still in there!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“NO!!!”

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

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

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

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

“Stub?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I know that, Master. But-”

“But what?”

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

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

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

“You’ve never been that way with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master-“

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

“I’m sorry, master.”

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

“But if it is a vision. . .I fail.”

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

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

“What about me?”

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

“Is it ok if I see it?”

“How can you do that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Master? When’s our next mission?”

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

“Huh?”

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

“You knew.”

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

“Master?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

[darlin-djarin]

i should sleep but i need to talk about the skywalker family and their chromosomes

it starts out a little silly but i promise i get deadass once i start talking about luke and how he was born.

now, it all starts with anakin.

anakin had no father, his mother birthed him like he was jesus (jesus intersex representation?? 😨 that’s another story) and she could only give him X chromosomes. that means either anakin didn’t have chromosomes, he had two X chromosomes, or he had just one X chromosome. considering his mother birthing him and his fatherlessness (loser), it’s most likely that he had a single X chromosome. therefore he was intersex.

now he probably still had cock and balls (derogatory), otherwise he couldn’t have had kids with padme. if the jedi order had a sex ed class (they probably did tbh), then anakin would probably know or realize that he only had one X chromosome, and therefore he realized he’s intersex.

as much as i love the idea of non-binary anakin- let’s be real guys. anakin would be those types of dudes who, when asked what their pronouns are, would answer with “nor/mal”. people would mention his beauty or his feminine demeanor and he’d be like “i’m not gay”. or something like that. i’m projecting my homophobic brother’s personality onto him. they’re very similar and i’m not particularly fond of either of them. at least, not anakin in the prequel movies.

my big boy chad master anakin in the clone wars had ultimate lightskin rizz.

anyway so onto luke.

it gets serious here.

since anakin only had one X chromosome, and padme had XX, then both of them contributed an X chromosome to their children. they literally couldn’t be able to make a biological male child. if they did end up having a male child, they would either have to be also intersex, or trans.

leia and luke were both born with XX chromosomes.

“but olly! in the movies, they said luke was a boy when he was born!” ah wonderful observation, my silly little padawan.

obviously star wars “humans” aren’t clearly “humans”, rather aliens as well. so likely their biology might differ from irl. but if we were to ignore that and consider all the possibilities, we could come up with a logical explanation.

obviously the technology in the star wars universe is very advanced, at least more advanced than the options we have available. i think the topic of gender and sexuality isn’t even a real thing in the universe. gender is a social construct, right? and clearly with the different aliens, races, and religions in the universe, the discussion of what “gender” is wouldn’t technically apply anywhere because gender isn’t real.

back to the technology part- i’d like to think the universe at that time would be able to find out a child’s “gender” or orientation by examining their brain when they are born. according to this study by Dr. Julie Bakker in how trans peoples brains correspond with the gender they identify as, regardless of how they were born, it can be understood that even from a young age, trans people think and process the same way cis people would within their respective identity/gender.

i think it would make the most sense that when luke and leia were born, they were given brain scans or something of the sort to determine what their gender/identity would be, regardless of how they were biologically born.

therefore we get luke’s “gender reveal” in the movies, even though he was likely born as a biological female.

basically trans luke is canon, y’all are just cowards.

so the whole skywalker family only have X chromosomes. until we get to ben solo. because of Han’s Y chromosome, ben would’ve been born as a cis male (derogatory).

that’s why he became evil. it’s bc his whole family is trans and he was kicked out for being cis.

hope this made sense

[kyberled]

 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐓: Braig Claermoore Braig of the Order

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

FULL NAME.  Braig Cassir Claermoore (until 20 BBY) || Braig of the Jedi Order (from 20 BBY on)

NICKNAMES.  Braigory, Braiglet, [Sir] Braigimus (@iamnojedi), Scarface, Bra’ika (Liz’s Cody, Xidori’s Wolffe (rarely)), Little one, Kid, Sir, Padawan, General, Commander, Cyar’ika (Suit’s Boba), Braiggo, Braigos, Braggart, Little Jedi, Master Padawan / Master Braiggo (@strcngered F’lurr), Popsicle (Gathering Group), Kenobi’s Brat (a few people, I genuinely forget the specifics), Dad (Tet)... 

ALIAS(ES). He’s used various over the years - Brean was a particularly ironic one - but he tends to avoid using the same one too many times. (And yes, he’s also gone by ‘Ben’ before, too.) 

SEX.  Male

HEIGHT.  5′9″

AGE.   Varies, born 4 Selona, 36 BBY

ZODIAC. Pisces 

SPOKEN  LANGUAGES.  Oh boy. Galactic Basic (spoken and sign), High Galactic, Cathar, Rodeese, Ryll, Jawaese, Huttese, Gungan Basic, Pantoran, Togrutan, Tusken, spoken and sign (starts learning in his early Teenage years), Gale’ha, spoken and sign (starts learning in his later teenage years), Ancient Chaulis (starts learning in his mid-teens), and then understands but doesn’t speak Ithorian, Binary/Droidspeak, and Shiirywook. Depending on the timeline, also knows a small handful of Mando’a words, since he seems to attract Mandalorians. 

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒 ――

HAIR COLOR.  Black

EYE COLOR.   Brown

SKIN TONE.   Olive

BODY TYPE.   Lean and athletic - made for speed and agility, but no schmuck when it comes to generating power, either. I lucked out in that his faceclaim (Booboo Stewart) also has the right body type, too. 

VOICE. Again, I think he sounds pretty similar to Booboo - just with a Coruscanti (sort-of-English ish???) accent. 

DOMINANT HAND. Left-handed

POSTURE. Generally proper and upright, but he has been known to let his shoulders relax on the odd occasion. Especially as he gets older and has to go into hiding, he tries to tailor it to the area around him. But on his own, yes, very much proper. 

SCARS. He has a bunch. The most prominent/noteworthy are the scar on his hace (plus a small, faded scar up by his temple, which fades; the main scar doesn’t); some faint conditioning scars on his knuckles; a scar on his right shoulder from a transport crash; a scar on his left shoulder from a fight against Tak; Two similar scars on both forearms from a fire/explosion; A scar on his right elbow from the fight with Tak; A scar on his left hip from the same transport crash; A scar on his left outer thigh from a battle he’s forgotten; and a scar on his right thigh from when part of a ship he was on got bombed. Depending on verse, he also has a gnarly scar from getting Force-lightninged by the Emperor, but hey - he lived. 

TATTOOS.  None in any ‘canon timeline’. 

PIERCINGS. None in any ‘canon timeline’. 

BIRTHMARKS. A small, dark spot on the back of his left ear. He has no idea it’s there. 

MOST NOTICEABLE FEATURES. Probably the scar, the hair, and the sabers, though I’m told he has a nice smile, too. 

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 ――

PLACE OF BIRTH.  Quadrant A-89, Senatorial District, Galactic City, Coruscant

HOMETOWN. The Jedi Temple, Galactic City, Coruscant. It’s a town in and of itself. 

SIBLINGS. He has a bunch of Jedi he considers his siblings - including the Gathering group (Hano, Naweh, Lohata, Booda, and the Twins) - but if you’re speaking strictly biologically, there’s his older half-brother, Karvan Nel (they don’t know they’re related), and his younger “half-brother”, Brean Claermoore (they only know they’re related later in life, and neither of them know exactly how). 

PARENTS. Admiral Eadric Aldin Claermoore (Father), and Doctor Shiv Keira Whelan (Mother). He’s never met either of them since coming to the Temple, he has no idea who they are, and he has no interest in learning. He’s much happier just considering the Jedi as his family, and thinking of Obi-Wan as his dad. 

A𝐃𝐔𝐋𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 ――

OCCUPATION.  Depends - Jedi and GAR officer, or mercenary/bounty hunter/travelling medic (usually as a cover for Rebellion matters, but sometimes just for money)

CURRENT RESIDENCE(S). Verse Dependent - either the Jedi Temple, or, after the fall, he travels - it could be his ship, a friend’s ship, any number of safehouses, Tatooine, a specific bar in Hutt space, wherever he thinks he can get some rest without getting shot. If there are people he enjoys there, so much the better.

CLOSE FRIENDS. Oh, man, there are a lot of them. He has a bunch of people that he absolutely adores. The ones that he considers closest are probably the Gathering Group (that I described earlier), the Twelvers (Kriss, Boone, Lowswipe, Lonnie, Tanzer, Cooper, and Prez), Ta’ule, Ta’heka, and Amua on Ga’le;  but there’s also Cortnye’s Ahsoka, Sam’s A’Sharad and Shaak (and F’lurr, of course!), Liz’s Cody, Durga, Mace, and Tet, Suit’s Boba, Kay, Hora, and the Claw, too; Ferret’s Meg and Aeleus; Ash’s Echo and Hiro; Caboose’s Omega; Alex’s babygirl Livvy; Keats’ Maul (uncle!); Ama’s Cirz (baby brother!), his nephew Eron (I was gonna put quotes around ‘nephew’, but, let’s be real here), Queen Sym, Red’s Satine, Sage’s Nike, Mars’ Shaak, AJ’s Kanan/Caleb, Miles’ Kairi, Michael’s Bultar, Micki’s Dani, Sky’s Ezra, and honestly the list just keeps going on. This isn’t even touching on casual acquaintances or people he feels he’s still getting to know, either. He’s very, very much a people person. Kinda brings the party wherever he goes, you know? 

FINANCIAL STATUS.  Jedi don’t really ‘do’ money in the usual sense, so when the Order is up, he’s provided for - after that, it varies day by day. 

DRIVER’S LICENSE. Or whatever the in-universe equivalent is, yeah. Also has his pilot’s licence, even if he dislikes flying.

CRIMINAL RECORD. I mean, high treason, resisting arrest, instigating riots, identity theft… Once the Empire goes live, they’ll pin anything on the Jedi survivors, so, yeah. 

VICES. He can be stubborn, he’s self-sacrificing to a fault, and he can be a bit naive when it comes to trying to see the best in people. Also a neat freak and a creature of habit. 

𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ――

SEXUAL ORIENTATION. Pan, grey/demi-ace leaning. 

LIBIDO. Eh. Not really much for him until he’s well into a relationship with someone, so, it’s there, but. Not huge for him. 

TURN-OFFS. Cowardice. <- This, along with selfishness and arrogance. (Also worth noting: Arrogance and confidence are not the same.) 

LOVE LANGUAGE. Quality time. <- This, and acts of service. He likes taking care of his partner and being taken care of, and he likes just existing in the same space as them. He’s pretty easy to please. 

RELATIONSHIP TENDENCIES. I’ll be 100%, I genuinely don’t know how to answer this in a way that wasn’t already covered. He’s loyal to a fault, does that count? He’ll be honest with his partner and expects them to be honest with him - but that comes with him trusting his partner, and expecting that trust in return. He will probably want to cuddle. I dunno, help me out here. 

𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐎𝐔𝐒 ――

CHARACTER’S THEME SONG. Oh, I have a playlist for him. It’s always hard for me to just pin down one - so here, enjoy these: 

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLB6ZtG_KginmCATXeLpgPpjBPo5i2d0tG 

HOBBIES TO PASS TIME. Oh boy. He trains, of course, he meditates, he reads, he spends time with his friends, he journals, he sketches, he fixes or modifies his sabers, he collects and presses flowers, some of the men have taught him how to play cards, he studies, he goes on walks or runs, he cleans his room, mends his clothing… When the war isn’t eating up every aspect of his life (as it often is), he’s a busy guy. 

MENTAL ILLNESSES. He has pretty serious PTSD and Survivor’s Guilt after the war. … Wars. Plural. He does what he can to manage it and work though it, but it’s something he has to live with. 

SELF-CONFIDENCE LEVEL. He considers it average. He knows who he is and what he can do, but - especially as he gets older - he also knows his place in the world. He knows how to handle himself, he knows his limits, and he’s fine with it. 

Tagged by: @beskar-himbo

Tagging: HEY YOU WITH THE FACE (I think most people have gotten this now, but if you want it, go for it!)

[obislittleone]

Hi,

How do the rooms in the Jedi temple look like? How do the bathrooms? The mess hall? What do they eat? How often? How often do they train? What’s their daily schedule? When on a mission, how do they go to the toilet? How does a master/Padawan complex look like? Do the members of the council get bigger rooms? When you’re a knight, do you still live in the Jedi temple? What clothes do you have? What do they wear when they sleep? What undergarments do they have? Can they buy something for themselves? Can they keep outfits after an undercover mission? Do they have brushes?😭😭

I’m writing a dr but I always need to picture things in order for me to understand them:(

So like this is a rough idea given that I only shifted for like a week both times and both times there were weird ‘plot lines’ going on that kinda interrupted the set schedule…

The jedi temple rooms look like very clean, very small, and barely furnished apartments and they’re all in the temple divided by the separate wings. Bathrooms look pretty normal lol accept all the sinks are like automatic and the toilet is metal?? Idk it just looks like a high tech toilet ig… mess hall looks like a big room with seats and tables, but there’s never like one thing going on at once, usually there’s younglings being read to or like some Jedi go over holo-files in there and ofc a lot of us eat there but some prefer to just eat alone or in their living quarters. We eat pretty normal food tbh, we just call them different things. Obviously chicken is not chicken as chickens do not exist there. There it’s called tip yip and it’s still my favorite food in both realities lol… daily schedule (for me at least) normally consists of training, both cardio exercises and sparring, meditation and care of one’s mind, sometimes being in and out of meetings, and there are few moments of free time. Otherwise there are a lot of missions, both on world and off tbh. When on a mission, going to the bathroom for a female jedi is rough but we typically just go anywhere we can lmaoo. For the boys practically the entire planet is free game- master/padawan apartments are made with the same as a single, but usually with an extra bedroom, or in my case, two. Though the jedi masters on the council are more highly revered, being a jedi is about being selfless and reverent about oneself, so no they usually get the same accommodations as everyone else. Knights can absolute still live in the temple, as are welcomed all jedi to do so, however, if it has been offered by another authority outside the temple to have arranged living then that is as well acceptable. As far as clothes go, normally i have two sets of robes and then a set of sleepwear. Sleepwear is cleaned every few days and done rlly easily bc in your room u have a small wash droid that has everything done by the time you get back every night. Same with the robes, it’s very easy to do and sometimes u forget u even do it lol. Undergarments are just like they are here, accept there’s no padded bras, theres just like sports ones, which makes more sense for jedi activity ig but yk whatever… essentially yeah you can buy something for yourself like somewhere else, but it technically goes against the laws of possession so like if its something important be prepared to get interrogated, but jedi don’t really make a living wage anyways and the senate pays for all the citizens who work within the temple because we assist to every need they have basically. Outfits are usually redistributed after missions, as again, we have no possession that isn’t like a secret lol. Even things from out past are kinda up for grabs if its able to help someone else. Yes we do have brushes! They look like those ones from CVS that are metal and rounded and have like little bristles coming out of the sides of the cylinder thingy. Idk what its called but thats what the brushes look like.

I think I answered all the questions, but feel free to let me know if you have more!

[phoenixyfriend]

When Obi-Wan gets to AotC, there's also about two dozen Anakin clones on-site. They're all girls because... IDK Anakin is trans. They have a hive mind and are developmentally a few years younger than Anakin himself.

It's incredibly unsettling to Obi-Wan.

It's almost definitely a "fuck with Anakin's already fragile mental health" ploy by Palpatine, along with a "what if Jedi Black Widows, for me, a Sith Lord. Wouldn't that be neat? That would be neat."

Anakin is torn between "this freaks me out" and "GANG OF BABY SISTERS LET'S GOOOOOOO."

(I just finished reading Like Real People Do by glimmerglanger, so this is definitely inspired by that and the obligatory 'lay back in bed and daydream variations on plot points of that fic you just really enjoyed,' and also a little by Same Heart, Same Blood by loosingletters.)

They're physically like 14-16 on average, and Anakin's vibrating out of his skin with a million conflicting emotions, but when he tells Padme she's just like "oh, you have a handmaiden gang!"

I told this to @willowcrowned and she suggested:

Once Anakin decides to repress the part of him that’s weirded out and just regard them as baby sisters he gets. A little strange about it The first time one of them dies he may or may not slaughter every person he can [in response to Padme's comment] Anakin starts worrying that he needs to get them cool matching outfits

I also chatted about it with @firebirdeternal and they said:

Gang of Unsettling Smol Siblings is exactly the Karma that Anakin deserves

Do you think the Clones have a kind of Collective Name that they use at first that eventually just kind of morphs into a new last name? Skysisters or something? Like Palpatine was trying to be clever and name them like the Nightsisters.

I initially went with "functionally one person" hive-mind but I'm torn.

I think maybe they're BASICALLY one person on Kamino but drift into Separate Consciousness once they're far enough apart physically that their minds don't blend from proximity anymore.

Then they start Dating (like half of them are dating Fett clones because they grew up with these dudes, it's like childhood friends romance), and Anakin loses his mind about Protecting Them and They're Too Young.

Padme: You're nineteen and we just got married, they can date. Anakin: THEY'RE EIGHT. Padme: And the Fett clones are ten and dying for us in the field. Get them rights before you panic about their love lives.

Firebird:

it could be worse, one of them could imprint on Obi-Wan. "Anakin I promise I won't yell at you for the next five stupid things you do if you can figure out a way to stop this baby from having a crush on me" (I like the idea of Obi-wan bargaining not with "I won't be mad at you ever" because they Both Know That's Not True, and instead haggling with specific allowances. Like he's handing out Stupidity Coupons)

Please imagine Mace and Obi-Wan's personal responses to the idea of suddenly having to deal with not one, not two, but OVER TWENTY SKYWALKERS.

Plo is delighted to take one off their hands.

So is Yoda.

Willow:

Mace is like. okay suicide isn’t the Jedi way but on the other hand. i physically cannot deal with this Yoda: a skywalker, you say? one who is tall enough to reach the top shelf, you say? such a skywalker, bring me

Anakin would be given at least one because fuck you, suffer with us, but he's still a padawan so Ugh, fine, no.

I want to say one stays on Coruscant to hang out with the Guard, and ends up half-adopted by Padme. She keeps dressing up the Aniclone left with her in handmaiden outfits and sending selfies to Anakin.

"Hanging out with the little SiL!"

Anakin has so many issues about WHEN his genetic material was acquired.

And there's some confusion from the Fett clones about how much of a hive mind is normal for Jedi. They are confused that the answer is basically none, and "this is WHY nobody clones a Jedi"

ONE OF THEM STEALS BOBA FROM THE ARENA ON GEONOSIS.

Firebird:

"I have followed in our progenitor's footsteps and acquired a sibling." holds up a struggling Boba "He bites."

Willow:

Ooooo okay so if they have a sort of hive mind then they probably don’t have names other than their designations on Kamino right BUT When they SEPARATE The one that picks Boba up on Geonosis gets a name specifically for that. Okay what if the one Padmé picks up gets some variant on ‘pretty’ because she’s always being dressed up BELLE Maybe Yoda’s Ani has a name that means thief? Because obviously Yoda is using Anakin to steal sweets

So, to make the timeline work...

I don't think anyone would give Anakin one of his sisters until after he's knighted at least.

So obviously when they're doing initial placements none of the sisters go to him or Obi-Wan.

Once he's knighted, of course they're already all placed with someone, and Anakin instead gets Ahsoka. He loves Ahsoka. She is also a little sister. He said so.

At some point afterwards, one of the sisters is left without a place because the Master that was in charge of her died in the field battle.

That sister then gets placed with Obi-Wan, because he's already mostly-successfully raised one Skywalker, so he can do it again.

Anakin gets to hang out with her basically all the time.

Ahsoka is very very jealous of this girl stealing Anakin's attention.

Anakin is oblivious to the rivalry.

He asks Barriss to look after them while he's discussing Adult War Things with Luminara and Obi-Wan, and Barriss gets an eye into This Mess, which is quickly colored by Ahsoka growing a puppy crush on the lovely Miss Offee herself.

Firebird:

Ahsoka: Ah yes, my nemesis. Anisister: Ah yes, my new older sister whom I want to impress so bad.

"I will impress her by being Stoic and Competent" "Oh my god she must think she's so much better than me what a bitch"

Anakin is oblivious to most things to be fair Anakin: Laser focused precision fighting machine who can read the tiniest body movements and predict your moves seconds in advance, who also cannot understand even the most basic social nuance. I was originally writing this as to Dunk on Anakin but then I made myself sad, because none of those things are really his fault.

So you know that post about like, Sasuke and Brooding, specifically in the context of "Brooding" as it's used to refer to Nesting Chickens? Grouchy and protective and sitting on a tennis ball trying to hatch it because they're just. "These are my Babies." Anakin Broods. Baby sisters. Must protecc. "I'm actually fine and extremely deadly in combat." "MUST PROTECT."

Bad Guy: [catches Ahsoka in a Trap] Aniclone: Must rescue sister! Aniclone: [fights, is not winning fight, gets ouched] Ahsoka tearing her way out of Trap: I lived bitch. Also: stay the fuck away from her. [murders so hard]

Ahsoka catches the Protective Older Sib feels by the traditional method: "Hey, only I'm allowed to be mean to them."

Willow:

Oh Anakin has no clue what’s going on. He walks in on Ahsoka glaring at the Ani and is like!!! Little sisters!!! Bonding!!! When Ahsoka was about three seconds away from tossing her out of the airlock. Ahsoka mistakenly assumes that Barriss has a crush on the Ani, and gets even MORE jealous.

Obi-Wan is like oh god. I can’t take care of an Anakin going through puberty again. He’s great with periods and other stuff because he read about a billion books. He is TERRIBLE with everything else, as he was the first time.

Barriss is like???? YOU'RE BOTH CHILDREN, PLEASE CALM DOWN, I HAVE ZERO INTEREST IN DATING ANYONE, LET ALONE SOMEONE YOUR AGE.

IDK how old Obi-Wan's Aniclone is, probably physically the same age as Ahsoka?

Per @atagotiak on discord:

Also something something, similarities btw Anakin and Obi-Wan where like. "Am I a parent? That seems uncomfortable, I'm too young to be a dad to a kid this age, I mean I'm cool with being a mentor/caretaker but..."

Obi-Wan can't even sidestep parenthood this time.

"Is Anakin basically your dad?" "Uhhhhhh" [Muffled discussion] "So Obi-Wan is your dad." "Okay!" "WAIT NO I DIDN'T AGREE TO THIS"

Ahsoka: She's stealing my brother, that BITCH. Obi-Wan's Aniclone: new sister new sister new sister gotta make a good impression

Firebird:

I feel like the Sister Squad would make very effective interstellar espionage agents Even like, kind of by accident. They just get encouraged to branch out in their interests and figure out what they want to do with their lives and end up all over the dang place, and since they're all pretty dang competent they tend to gravitate towards Important Positions wherever they end up. Except for one sister who just retires to raise Space Sheep.

I like that in this AU Palpatine is just like "I will create an army of Loyal Murderers who will obey my every whim and also be a big psychological lever on my Other Pet Murderer," and then they all just Baby Duckling imprint on the first Jedi to be nice to them instead and he has to just be like "Wait no not like that."

AND one of them Steals Boba

I want Obi-Wan's Aniclone to start dating Fives. All the sisters judge her for it, because he's a Goof. A very competent, ARC Trooper goof! But a goof.

Not as goofy as Anakin, though.

Firebird:

Who expects a clone of Anakin Skywalker to not make questionable lifelong romantic choices impulsively?

[ocd-kenobi]

I love the excerpt you shared with Anakin telling Obi-Wan he can’t just turn to stone. It’s just so funny and tragic at the same time. Like Obi-Wan cares so so much for Anakin but he doesn’t exactly show it in ways Anakin can recognize necessarily. I know the fandom loves mother-hen Obi-Wan but that just isn’t how he is. Like dude has his feelings locked up pretty tight and can be rather cold and appear pretty detached (as a Jedi is supposed to) which doesn’t read right with Anakin. I love those two SO much but holy shit are they terrible at productively communicating with one another so that they both understand what the fuck is going on. They’re just so bad at effective communication with each other that it’s hilarious in a way that makes me want to bash my head into a wall and yet simultaneously be their therapist. 

They are c l a s s i c miscommunication because Obi-Wan thinks his love is mortifyingly obvious, but Anakin can’t see it. Even just on a platonic level, the number of times Obi-Wan clearly and warmly expresses pride for Anakin and tells him he’s done a good job, and it’s just, for whatever reason, not enough for Anakin so he doesn’t register the compliment at all? Insane.

I think I’m one of the people who thinks of Obi-Wan as a bit mother-hennish,  but the thing is, it doesn’t matter how mother-hennish he is, because Anakin doesn’t perceive it as affection most of the time. Anakin seems to have an emotional binary code going on where if affection is clear and warm enough to go over his high threshold, then he accepts the win. If the affection is warm but not clear enough and doesn’t quite make it over the threshold, then it registers as a big fat zero in the affection tally, a do-over. No in-between.

There’s this moment I come back to often in Deceptions that illustrates their miscommunication tragedy perfectly for me. Obi-Wan is consciously scarred by the way Qui-Gon used to withhold information from him when he was a young padawan, and is thinking a lot about his traumatic past, so he’s pretty actively thinking about trying not to let his past trauma shape his present. Anakin, twelve years old, asks him a question, and Obi-Wan doesn’t really want to answer it because it’s not really Anakin’s problem. But then Anakin grows upset and expresses his frustration at Obi-Wan withholding information from him for no reason. And Obi-Wan’s response to that is to reflect on how he’s replicating Qui-Gon’s poor behavior, apologize to Anakin, and tell him everything about his own trauma. This indicates his care for the boy’s emotional well-being over his own comfort, his trust in Anakin’s judgment, and his total lack of boundaries stemming from considering them to be intellectual equals in many ways. But Anakin doesn’t register that as having to do with affection, for a lot of reasons. 

The book I’m reading now, Clone Wars Gambit: Siege, has the most mother-hen Obi-Wan content I’ve ever seen. I love it. He’s just fussing over Anakin constantly, kicking him under tables to correct his behavior, waking up at the feeling of Anakin’s angst and trying to get him to stop stressing, literally healing his shoulder with the Force and then scolding him for using that shoulder to toss kids around. It’s very cute. But yeah. Anakin does not read it for all that it is. 

Because he believes, deep down, that if a feeling is weak enough to be let go of, then it’s probably not a real feeling! Totally missing that Obi-Wan is chronically unable to let go of him at all. Like, what Anakin is really mad at in the passage you mentioned is basically that Obi-Wan is willing to let other people die in order to achieve longer-term goals, while Anakin cares so much about individual life in the present that he hates doing that. And Anakin thinks that he himself counts as part of the “other people” that Obi-Wan would let die, and so he can lash out from a place of being personally hurt by Obi-Wan’s indifference. But the irony is that he is in a separate category, he is not one of the people Obi-Wan could let go of! In fact, he’s the only person Obi-Wan is unwilling to sacrifice for anything. Obi-Wan discusses this in the ROTS novel--with Yoda, I believe, of all people. The fact that Anakin can’t pick up on it without being told is so tragic, but so in character for him.

All this to say: I love in fiction when the endless loving toiling of mothers goes unappreciated by daughters who only see it as controlling, and I love when lovers have such different modes of communication and emotional expression that they each think they love the other unrequitedly, and the passage you mentioned and Obikin in general are a swell union of the two :D

Also, @predator-padawan is posting a story today that illustrates all this very well I think!! Miscommunication my beloved

[kanansdume]

Just to explore Reva a little again and her alternate options she could’ve had for Masters in happier fix-it AUs where Palpatine got eaten by the Zillo Beast or something.

Reva the Healer, learning under Rig Nema (or Vokara Che if you want to go Legends, I don’t mind). I don’t know much about Rig Nema, obviously, but I just like the concept of Reva the Healer for the same reasons I like Reva the Temple Guard. It allows Reva to stay in the Temple a bit more, and to keep the people she loves most safe, to take care of her family and keep them alive. Reva the Healer who maybe works quite a lot with the clone medics after the war, too, learning alongside them as she figures out field medicine so she can go on off-planet missions to help out communities still rebuilding and reeling from the devastation of the Clone War.

Reva the Archivist, learning under Jocasta Nu, just SO GOOD at all of the research and book learning and loving helping out small initiates and Padawans find the information they need to help them through their classes or win a bet with their friends or just because they’re interested. Reva the Archivist who likes spinning her own stories for the younglings in the creche when they come to visit because she’s just the BEST storyteller. Reva the Archivist who everyone knows to go to if they have some sort-of obscure question on a mission because if she doesn’t know the answer off the top of her head, she’s probably got an idea of where to find it, she KNOWS she’s seen something about that somewhere let her just go check something for a second.

Reva who becomes Tera Sinube’s Padawan maybe, learning all about Coruscant’s criminal underworld and working to help protect the everyday citizens of Coruscant both by tracking down criminals AND helping in soup kitchens and outreach centers. Reva who is still just so good at the patient research and stake-outs and things and has no problem waiting weeks, months, YEARS to catch a criminal who’s gone into hiding. Reva who becomes so well known amongst the lower level citizens of Coruscant for knowing their names and bringing them supplies they need as often as she can and being very understanding when some of the criminals she chases down don’t need to be handed over to Coruscant Police, but to be led to the outreach center for a warm shower and a hot meal and some help.

Reva who becomes Agen Kolar’s Padawan after the war, when he’s had time to grieve and move forward from the loss of his last Padawan in the Geonosis arena that began the war. Reva whose just general brightness and compassion helps Agen adjust again to not having to be constantly at war, but who is just as happy as Agen is to throw out a thermal detonator if it’s the right tool for the job. 

Reva the Crechemaster (sadly I actually don’t know any canon crechemaster nams off the top of my head), who loves nothing more than taking care of the younglings, the future of the Jedi, watching them grow, teaching them the basics of Force usage and meditation and Jedi values. Who is so quick to tell them a story, to sing them to sleep, to give them piggyback rides and let them climb all over her. Reva the Crechemaster who always makes sure if she takes a group of younglings out for a field trip somewhere, she damn well comes back with every single one of them, no matter what it takes.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

one thing I have grown tired about in the fandom is the constant anakin apologism. I'm always finding posts that that that if anakin had less contact with palpatine or if he had another master or is his mother had gained her freedom or if he had felt like he was not an outcast inside the order because he was old as a padawan, he would have not fallen. I personally that is baseless apologism to someone that was basically a sith trying to act like if he was a jedi but I wanted to know your opinion

I mean... 

I get it. I get defending Anakin, or trying to find ways he wouldn’t have made the choices he did. Anakin being a good person is a very important part of the Prequels, and we can’t take that away from his character. 

Well, a lot of people got very upset, saying he should’ve been this little demon kid. But the story is not about a guy who was born a monster – it’s about a good boy who was loving and had exceptional powers, but how that eventually corrupted him and how he confused possessive love with compassionate love. That happens in Episode II: Regardless of how his mother died, Jedi are not supposed to take vengeance. And that’s why they say he was too old to be a Jedi, because he made his emotional connections. His undoing is that he loveth too much.

George Lucas, 2005 interview

Perhaps not the best quote to illustrate the point, but just look at TCW - where Anakin is admittedly quite different from his movie portrayal, but whose characterization was still overseen and approved by Lucas. 

I disagree that Anakin wasn’t a Jedi. He was one. Sith just don’t care about the evil they do and the suffering they cause - Anakin, up to Order 66, absolutely knew right from wrong and wanted to choose the right path more often that not, and he did understand Jedi teachings. 

AotC: I’m a Jedi. I know I’m better than this.

RotS: Something is wrong. I’m not the Jedi I should be. 

(Of course, the flipside is that Anakin knowing right from wrong means he is all the more responsible for his own actions. Here’s an excellent meta by @david-talks-sw on the subject). 

So I understand explaining Anakin’s actions and empathizing with him. The Prequels are a tragedy, according to Lucas (said multiple times, including in the interview I linked). In a tragedy, watching the hero fall is meant to be painful because he’s a hero. The problem is, the line between explaining an action and justifying can be blurry, and understanding Anakin’s pain and confusing can be understood as dismissing his actions when they’re not the same thing. 

But I very much agree that bending the circumstances around Anakin’s choices instead of talking about Anakin’s own character is missing the point. In fact, we have a very good example to show that Anakin’s fall wasn’t only tied to external events - Mortis. Although I would never pretend I understand Mortis any better than any other viewer, one thing still sticks out to me as self-evident. Anakin chooses to fall when presented with something he can’t deal with. 

In RotS, he cannot accept the possible loss of Padmé, so he surrenders to his fear - he chooses the easy path of relinquishing control and letting someone else and something else take over instead of fighting his impulses and of controlling his emotions. On Mortis, despite knowing what the Son is and what he did to Ahsoka and his own sister, Anakin cannot deal with the knowledge that he will Fall, and so he lets the Son take the lead and he falls. 

In both cases, Anakin’s actions are very much his own. The Son didn’t ‘infect’ him like he did Ahsoka, he let him choose. 

I do think Anakin showed many of the qualities that should have made him an excellent Jedi. The Jedi certainly thought highly of him, with how often they called him and Obi-Wan their best team, or trusted him with high-stakes missions. Maybe I’ll defend that later, but in the movies and TCW they definitely counted him as one of their best.

Anakin was compassionate, brave, and idealistic. He was also incredibly egocentric - as in, saw the world as how it impacted him, and saw people as how they mattered to him. 

So yeah, I get loving him, I get liking him, and I get wanting him to do better, and to grow to become a better person. I don’t agree with stripping him of agency and responsibility for his actions. He was young, but he was a competent young adult with the tools to know and do better. His story is also a tragedy, so we’re meant to understand him and feel for him, because else there’d be no point to RotJ. 

But hey, I certainly rip into his shitty choices often enough on this blog - I had to cut him some slack here for the sake of nuance. 

[crispyjenkins]

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

 Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

  Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead. 

  They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

  “Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

  He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

  “My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

  Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

  Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

  Jango doesn’t move.

  He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

  He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

  “Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

  Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

  “Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

  Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

-

  He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

  “Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

  Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

  Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed. 

  Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest. 

  The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

  “Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

  Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

  Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

  “Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

  The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

  “Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

  Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

  “He doesn’t know?”

  “Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

  Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them. 

  The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

  Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance. 

  He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit. 

  There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

  They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport. 

  “I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them? 

  “I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

  Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

  Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

  “Both. I want both.”

  “Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

  He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

  “And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

  They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

  “What the Force showed you.”

  “Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

  “I’m too high for magic osik.”

  They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

  Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

  Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

  He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

  “Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

  “You stole this?”

  “Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

  Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

-

  Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

  Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

  It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

  He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

  None, he knows.

  “I acted without thinking, I—”

  “It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

  Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

  “Obi-Wan.” 

  Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

  “Obi-Wan, can you look at me?” 

  He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

  Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

  “Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice. 

  Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.” 

  “But isn’t letting go...”

  His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

  Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

  “Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

  “... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

  Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

  Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams. 

  “But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

  He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

[calltomuster]

(More) Star Wars Fic Recs

[first fic rec list]

Hello everyone, hope you've been having a lovely week! Here's another list of some fics I've really enjoyed reading or rereading recently. I try to have a mix of things I don't think got enough love, fics from a while ago that deserve to be reread, stuff from writers on Tumblr, and of course, just stuff I think is great.

atmosphere level by softredscrunchie (gen, one-shot, 1k words, Obi-Wan & Satine) Obi-Wan's hurt and sick and annoyed so Satine decides to distract him by arguing passionately that Mandalore is, in fact, flat. Obi-Wan, being the nerd he is, gets more and more wound up as she refuses to back down. This fic is one of the funniest things I've read in a long while, highly recommend if you're having a bad day.

a comedy in four acts by jesuisdeux (gen, one-shot, 4k words, Obi-Wan & Dooku & Yoda) Obi-Wan and Dooku both time-travel from the point of their deaths way back to when Obi-Wan was a young Padawan. Ft. Classic Dooku glowering at a 13 year-old, caring and empathetic Yoda, and Obi-Wan flat out telling a very confused Qui-Gon that he's gonna kill Dooku.

the day begins with burning by @kototyph (gen, one-shot, 6.3k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) This fic takes place in a world where the Jedi Order finds out about the Tusken massacre and puts Anakin on trial (internally). We start off right as the Council is delivering their verdict, and it's a roller coaster of emotions from start to finish. I like it because it does not shy away from the fact that Anakin murdered a bunch of people and there really need to be consequences for that, but also isn't just Anakin bashing. The relationship between Anakin and Obi-Wan really shines through here.

The Ghosts of Memory by @pandora15 (gen, one-shot, 2.1k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin & Ahsoka) Obi-Wan and Anakin are invited back to Naboo for the ten year anniversary of the battle. I mean, that sounds relatively benign but OOF. So many feelings. So many thoughts of what could have been. Go read this fic!

Anamorphosis by avocadomoon (Obi-Wan/Padmé, one-shot, 33.5k words) Obi-Wan and (a slightly older) Padmé keep in touch after the events on Naboo and keep their eventual marriage out of the public eye. Qui-Gon lives, but the Council still doesn't accept Anakin for training so he and Shmi are taken in by a wonderful benefactor -- Sheev Palpatine. Nothing can go wrong there, right? This is an absolutely fascinating re-imagining of the prequels era. I'm so sad it's only a one-shot, because there's so much to explore here.

on sith holocrons and misunderstandings by billowypants (gen, one-shot, 7.2k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) As the summary says, "de-aged!Obi-Wan has the same Force bonds as adult Obi-Wan, and he does not react well." Bit of an understatement, that. This fic really makes me feel bad for both Obi-Wan and Anakin. Wrap them up in blankets and give them hugs, please.

In Control by @kckenobi (gen, one-shot, 3.5k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) I don't normally seek out fics with young Anakin, but I love KCKenobi's stuff so I was like "I'm game" and that was most definitely not a mistake. What a cute fic this is! The basic premise is that Anakin is getting his license to drive/fly a speeder and poor Obi-Wan is dragged along for the ride, literally. Highly recommend.

always gold by @happygiraffe (gen, 4/4 chapters, 10k words, Obi-Wan & Anakin) Obi-Wan hasn't been Master to Anakin for that long before he finds out his cancer is back. Oh man. Let me tell you, I don't cry easily. Really, I don't. But the most recent time I read this fic, I had to set my phone down at the end and ugly-sob for literally ten minutes before I could properly compose myself. It affected me that much. This fic showed me the power of words. My only hope is that one day I will be able to accomplish what @happygiraffe has with this fic!

fill pages with scribbled ink by magneticwave (Obi-Wan/Padmé, one-shot, 9.8k words) If I haven't talked about this fic already on here (and I might have?) then I have committed a crime. It's another Obi-Wan/Padmé fic, which is a ship I've never had a problem with but don't normally seek out, but the ones on this list are so, so good. This fic is told entirely through comm messages, and it's such a brilliant way to tell this story. I cheered the whole way through.

having loved a little while by @giggles-and-freckles (Padmé/Anakin, 1.5k words, Padmé & Ahsoka, Ahsoka & Anakin) Okay genuinely I had a hard time deciding between the four(?) fics @giggles-and-freckles wrote for the Chaos Company Exchange because they all brought me such joy, but this one stands out. Padmé is teaching Ahsoka how to cook in her apartment and they're having a really lovely moment when Anakin bursts in and then has to try and explain his unexpected presence to Ahsoka. This story had me going "awww!" in the beginning and then dying of laughter by the end. So much fun, seriously. I laughed out loud multiple times.

If you like any of these fics, please consider reblogging so they can get more exposure! And if you noticed I missed someone's Tumblr account, or linked the wrong one, please let me know!

[obiwanobi]

I'm just so very enamored with the idea of Dooku als Obi-Wans Master at the moment. There are so many possibilities, I'm going crazy. I love your writing style and your ideas, so I would be so very happy to know your thoughts about this.

At first, I was going to say “oh, is this a nice AU where taking Obi-Wan as his padawan makes Dooku stay in the Order and the whole lineage is happier?” but then I thought, ‘wait, no, I’m only here to make a dramatic tragedy out of everything’ and I got really into it and wrote 2k about it 🤷‍♀️

So let’s say that Qui-Gon still takes Obi-Wan as his padawan first, and that’s how he meets his grandmaster, Dooku, who’s still a Jedi at this point in time.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan aren’t a good match at first, and it’s the same, even a bit worse than that, in this AU: Obi-Wan might be grateful to have been chosen and be eager to learn, but their rocky start as a master and padawan duo and their very different approach to, well, basically everything, make things a bit awkward.

But Dooku? Obi-Wan adores Dooku.

Dooku is the antithesis of Qui-Gon; he is a fascinating orator, has a practical mind, favours a pragmatic approach to problems, and is also one of the best duellists in the Temple. And he’s almost certain that Dooku likes him too. His grandmaster might be intimidating at first (he’s even taller than master Jinn for Force’s sake,) but he also raised Qui-Gon, so the man has seen it all and can’t be surprised by anything anymore. When he comes to visit Qui-Gon, Dooku never forgets to ask Obi-Wan how his training is going, what form he likes the best (Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the opportunity to say that he finds Makashi particularly elegant and almost gets a smile in return) and one day, he even ends up helping him write a geopolitical paper about a planet Dooku has spent almost a year on. It warms Obi-Wan to feel a connection to their lineage when he doesn’t really understand his own master, and watching Dooku and Qui-Gon, two very different personalities, getting along so well, also gives him hope that he will one day have the same type of relationship with his master.

But then, Melida/Daan happens.

Obi-Wan decides to stay, and Qui-Gon leaves the planet with one less padawan. It takes a bit of time before Dooku manages to get Qui-Gon to talk about what happened and where is his favourite grandpadawan, but when he realises that Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan in a warzone, Dooku is outraged, and is on Melida/Daan three days later to formally ask Obi-Wan to reconsider leaving the Order. It takes a bit of time before Obi-Wan truly starts thinking about it, because “Master Jinn will never take me back. I’m very sorry, Master Dooku, but he was the only one who was willing to take me as his padawan. No one else will, especially now.” and Dooku scoffs, because he wouldn’t travel to the outer rim for anyone, and of course he’s planning to personally train him. He saw the potential in him, and would hate to see it go to waste. All of this if Obi-Wan can assure him that he won’t rebel at every opportunity, of course, because he won’t accept the betrayal of his trust. 

They both leave the planet together, as Master and Padawan. 

The next few months are... strenuous. Adapting to Dooku’s teaching methods is harder than Obi-Wan expected. His new master asks for discipline, practicality and complete control of oneself at all time, and doesn’t accept any nonsenses. It’s not something Obi-Wan really knows how to do after months with Qui-Gon “don’t think, just do” Jinn. There is also a new distance between Dooku and Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan knows is his fault, but can’t do much about it; he still hasn’t said more than two words to Qui-Gon since Melida/Daan (apologies that his master- former master accepted with a cordial bow and that was it) and is in no hurry to change that.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan is happy. Dooku might be a bit snobbish, makes imperious demands and even disagrees with the Council just like his former padawan, but he also explains to Obi-Wan why his decisions and insistence on certain parts of his training are necessary, doesn’t shy away from philosophical questions about the Force or the Order (even if his opinion is sometimes bordering on blasphemy,) and is, after all, one of the most skilled Master in the Temple. He might be a severe figure of authority to everyone else, but his hidden smile at a witty remark from his padawan, or the use of a diplomatic loophole to get his way without having to ignite his lightsaber, always gets him a gentle hand on his shoulder and an almost-satisfied smile. It’s more than enough for him. 

And then, Qui-Gon brings Anakin Skywalker to the Temple.

Obi-Wan tries not to think too much about the rumours that say that he went all the way to the outer rim to get himself a new padawan. A padawan he chose this time. A padawan who’s the Chosen One.

 “Ridiculous,” Master Dooku scorns, his expression so dismissive that the few gossipy padawans (and knights!) around scatter in a second. “I saw the boy, and if this raggedy child is the Chosen One who’s supposed to save us all, we should all start building our own funeral pyre to save us some time.”

“Master, really,” Obi-Wan sighs, half-reprimand, half-amusement. He’s still glad his master shares his distaste with the idea of taking a child too old and too attached. 

And then, Qui-Gon Jinn almost dies on Naboo. 

The other Jedi that went with him doesn’t have the same luck. Dooku doesn’t huff and roll his eyes this time. He does spend a lot of time in the Halls of Healing at his former padawan’s bed. Apparently, Qui-Gon has been badly hurt, and if he should walk again soon, probably with a walking stick, he will never be able to maintain enough stamina to fight with a lightsaber again. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to train the boy, and even the Council and Dooku, for once on the same side, aren’t enough to dissuade him. 

And then, everything goes too fast. 

Obi-Wan is talking about possible hidden Sith in the galaxy at the breakfast table, and suddenly Dooku says “I’m leaving the Order”, and then he’s knighted by a master who tells him he’s glad his last accomplishment as a Jedi is something he’s proud of, and then his master leaves without a real explanation, and then they make a bust of him in the library like he’s dead, and Obi-Wan asks himself if he’s going to feel abandoned all his life. 

And then, Anakin Skywalker bumps into him. 

“You’re Obi-Wan!” he says way too loudly, looking up at him in wonder.

It’s Knight Kenobi to you, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his master echoes in his mind. But no matter how much Obi-Wan admires his master, he could never be as rigid as him.

“Master Qui-Gon said you were his padawan once,” Anakin says, excited, and Obi-Wan has never wanted to run from a conversation that badly before. “And that you were... the padawan of my... grandmaster? I think? So that means we’re sort of like cousins, right?”

“Not really, no. Jedi don’t think about the Order as a traditional family. I don’t mean that we’re not one, young one,” he adds when Anakin’s expression turns to dejection, “we just have a different approach to kinship. In a way, we’re all brothers and sisters.”

And that, of course, is the exact thing he shouldn't have said.

“So you’re my brother then? Wizard! I’ve never had a brother before! Does that mean you will spar with me? I want to learn EVERYTHING about lightsabers, for example, do they have unlimited energy? Can it really go through everything? Because I heard beskar—” 

Obi-Wan isn’t proud to say that he feels the urgent need to get away from him and never come in contact with that child ever again. 

But after their first encounter, Anakin doesn’t leave him any choice. Every time Obi-Wan gets some time off, the padawan is here, scarily good at annoying him until Obi-Wan gives up pretending to ignore him. 

He probably should be sterner with him. After all, he doesn’t own the child anything. But Anakin is always so happy to see him, impressed when Obi-Wan demonstrates the most acrobatic of Ataru’s movements, and eager to learn from him. Sometimes, he imagines Master Dooku’s face confronted with Anakin, and can’t help but laugh out loud.  It helps to forget the void Dooku left in his life for a time.

(There aren’t a lot of holos sent to him from Serenno these days. Dooku must be busy.)

“My master can’t fight,” Anakin says petulantly one day, plopping down on Obi-Wan’s couch like the sulky teenager he is, “He’s restricted to the Temple or boring political missions, and so am I because of him. All he does is tell me to meditate and make me ‘reflect on my feelings’, or whatever that means. How good can a master be if he can’t teach me to protect myself and others?” 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns, kicking the padawan’s feet away from the caf table, “please tell me you didn’t say these exact insensitive words to your master right before slamming the door and coming here.” 

Of course he did, Obi-Wan thinks when Anakin starts a rant about being held back and how stupid meditation is. That night, Obi-Wan forces him to sincerely apologise to his master after a brief fight ("stop nagging at me, Obi-Wan! You’re not my master!” “Well, apparently, you don’t even respect your own master, so I’m very glad I’m not.”) and is just a bit stunned when he finds Qui-Gon Jinn on his doorstep a few days letter, asking him if he would agree to take Padawan Skywalker on his next off-world mission. 

Obi-Wan really, really wants to say no. He only taught Anakin a few Ataru moves that the lightsaber’s instructor normally doesn’t introduce until a few years later because Anakin wouldn’t accept a no from him, he never signed up to co-parent a defiant padawan! Especially Qui-Gon’s padawan. The entire conversation between them is already awkward enough.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No?” Qui-Gon replies, sipping his tea like they’re discussing the weather. “You’ve done a good job at teaching him some rationality and a few duelling tricks until now. I haven’t been able to wield a lightsaber for a while now, but it’s hard to miss the handprint of my own master all over Anakin’s sudden blend of Ataru and Makashi in his movements.” Obi-Wan is pretty sure his ears and his face are burning by now. “Don’t you think he could benefit from some real experience? Maybe start to put things in perspective? Show him why the diplomatic skills and temperance we preach are so important even for the violent or difficult conflicts we’re asked to solve?” 

And really, what is he supposed to say to that? 

Qui-Gon leaves his quarters before he manages to gather the courage to ask why he chose him of all knights for this task. It really doesn’t make any sense to Obi-Wan.

The very next day, Anakin shows up at the hangar bay ready to see the stars, bag on his shoulder and enough excitement to make the whole ship vibrate under his feet. 

“If you cause problems on purpose, I’ll send you back to your master faster than you can say pod-racing.”

“I promise I won’t, Knight Kenobi,” Anakin replies, all angelic smile and respectful padawan face. It’s the first time Anakin has called him by his title, and somehow it sounds a bit wrong.

Anakin does end up causing problems on purpose. It’s ridiculous but also kind of genius, so Obi-Wan only shakes his head and says “you’re really going to be the death of me.”

And for some years, it works. Qui-Gon stays Anakin’s master, but he does send him to learn from other masters and knights. More and more, though, Anakin asks for Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon rarely refuses.

“You two are the last people I thought would get along,” Mace Windu tells them a few successful missions later, after witnessing them bantering back and forth from their respective beds in the Halls of Healing. “Nonetheless, I’m glad you do. It’s good to see close lineages strengthening their bond to each other.”

Anakin blinks so many time at the compliment that Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate a second before throwing his pillow at his face the second Windu leaves the room.

It’s a shame that Obi-Wan never manages to ask Qui-Gon about why he trusted him with his padawan. 

Because Qui-Gon dies on Geonosis. 

He shouldn’t have been there, Obi-Wan and Anakin keep saying. But they both know that you can’t stop Qui-Gon Jinn to do what he wants. He shouldn’t have gone to Kamino by himself, he shouldn’t have followed the bounty hunter to Geonosis, He shouldn’t have been in this arena, he shouldn’t have been killed before the help has come. He shouldn’t have died right in front of his former master— because of his former master. 

Anakin’s master died that day, but when Obi-Wan saw Master Dooku ordering the attack on the Jedi, he felt like he was losing two masters at the same time. 

Now there is a war coming, and the Council is talking about Master Dooku being a Sith, and he should stop saying Master Dooku, he knows, and people are asking how good can a Jedi be when raised by a traitor, and Yoda is talking to him about knighting Anakin and what he thinks about it like he’s his master now, and Anakin refuses to talk to him, and that probably has to do with the fact that he lost an arm and a father-figure to Obi-Wan’s master, and Obi-Wan would like to sleep for an entire year now, thank you very much. 

[kiwikipedia]

Pup

Fandom(s): Star Wars

Rating: K

Summary: Plo Koon’s not the only one to just spontaneously adopt it seems, Post War AU

Based loosely off of this post but then i just. didn’t? so maybe its not based on it at all lmaoo??

It was a running joke among the Masters that they could all trace their foundling lineage back to High Councilor Plo Koon.

Either through the Kel Dor Jedi himself, or through one of his Padawans— because lord knew that they all ended up with his habits when it came to just having that radar of abandoned children, force sensitive or not.

And then the joke only seemed to increase in those who knew once the War ended and the Order left Coruscant with the Clones.

The joke among the GAR was the last names. There were well over a million Clones who bore the last name ‘Koon’ now, including the 104th Battalion and the 127th Gunship Wing. If they didn’t have the last name ‘Koon’ then they might have ‘Swan’ or ‘Tano’ (because when Ahsoka decided she had found a new brother, she never let them go). There were those who donned the crest that Knight— no, Master Lissarkh and her Company wore while they sabotaged Separatist forces behind the lines, because Lissarkh had no surname to give her ‘hatchlings’ but she had a crest which was basically the same thing.

But still, Plo Koon was infamous for his habit of knowing and adopting children— and now Clones.

The Council had learned a long time ago to simply let it happen— the Older Jedi (though how many were really older than him?) fretted over the old code, but learned to drop the topic because he just ignored them instead.

So it came to no surprise when Wolffe showed up late to a Council meeting with a small child in his arms.

(Though the Council Meetings were less of the Council now days and more the Council Masters, The Commander and the Alpha Vode, and anyone who was off planet as a form of checking in.)

The good Commander had been off planet on a relief mission with part of the Wolffepack.

“A child, you have, Commander?” Master Yoda mused and the blue holographic figure nodded.

“Yes, sir,” he grunted as the child, a Nautolan— go figure— child with large round eyes, wriggled a bit, staring at them all. “She— he? Master Fisto, help— was being trafficked, sir. The boys and I took the liberty of dealing with the entire ring on the planet as part of our mission.”

There was a barely hidden note of glee in his tone at the accomplishment. “Bitey here just hasn’t happened to let go of me. I think another one of ‘em has been pulling on Wildfire’s hair for a good ten minutes.”

Kit snorted out a laugh, but looked ecstatic. “We’ll see when you get back,” he told him before he tilted his head. “Were they all Nautolans, Commander?”

“No, sir,” he reported. “There were two Zabraks—” Eeth and Agen’s own holographic forms both sat up at that. “Three Mikkians, and a handful of humans. Various ages.” he paused before a proud look crossed his face. “Some of them were vode, sirs. They’ve been protecting the others to the best of their ability too— They want to come home. They’re ready to come back home.”

“And we will give them home here, my son,” Plo rumbled, pride in his voice and Mace leaned back in his seat. “They will have a home here, with us.”

“Better vode than a thought dead brother of a Sith Lord,” he said dryly and Plo gave him a look.

“Feral is quite a charming young man, I’ll have you know. He gets along very nicely with his siblings,” the Kel Dor defended. “Just the other day he, Ahsoka, and Lissarkh were teaching some of the vode to hunt in the forests around the Temple.”

Shaak Ti barely hid a giggle behind her hand as Mace sighed, but smiled slightly. “I’m sure. We’ll need all the help we can get when it comes to hunting, if you and your children keep bringing back more every time you step a single foot so much as off planet.”

“So we’re good to bring Bitey and the others back?” Wolffe ventured, “Because, er, the ‘Pack isn’t the only group to have kids with ‘em right now.”

All eyes turned to Captain Jag where he was sitting. The pilot raised a brow. “Not me, sirs, though that would’ve been fun. The 127th didn’t find any kids this time in the Astroid Belt,” He tilted his head, smirking, looking to his right. “Banks?”

“Not me either,” the Sergeant grunted, arms crossed from where he stood, Hologram flickering as Master Swan shrugged.

“Though some kids did try and sneak on board, we got them back to their parents,” she added.

“I haven’t been off Planet because someone wont let me, so it isn’t me,” Plo mused, giving Mace and Yoda a look, though his amusement could be felt through the Force. “And Lissarkh and Ahsoka are still on planet… I can’t possibly think of anyone in my Lineage— foundling or master— who could’ve done—”

“It’s me,” Voolvif cut in, ears flicking in amusement. “Pup’s sleeping right now, but I went back to where my Master found me and found ‘im in the area.”

“A 104th child then! Not through the lineage but through the Battalion!” Plo chuckled and Voolvif flashed a toothy grin.

“Congratulations on becoming a father, Master Monn,” Mace sighed and shook his head before giving Plo Koon a look. “Even when you’re not off world you still manage to acquire every orphaned child and lost vode.”

The Kel Dor sniffed, fingers laced together as he leaned back. “Some Jedi have a habit of attracting trouble,” he said simply. “I just happen to be able to find those who need a family. And it’s a skill that I gladly pass down in my Lineage and family.”

“No more Sith Lords.”

“Now I can’t promise that, Master Windu. That would be no fun.”

though i did change some stuff?? like it just happened. Bultar and Voolvif on the new Council because I love them. Though its less of a council and more “the Council + everyone whose off world”

[no-droids]

Why is the Girl Here?

Part 1 of 2 of The Locked Door Series

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Summary: The Clone Wars have launched the galaxy into darkness, and hundreds of Jedi have fallen. With nowhere else to turn, the Order seeks to ally with powerful Force users from the Unknown Regions.  Just a three-cycle trip from Ilum, the planet s’Ziscari is home to the largest army of Force sensitives known to the galaxy, three times the size of the Jedi Order and with no current allegiance to the Republic.  There, Master Obi-Wan Kenobi and his newly ordained Jedi Knight are to negotiate an alliance with the s’Ziscari government on behalf of the Order and the Republic.  As the separatist army grows ever stronger, the fate of trillions rests in their hands…

Warnings: THIS WILL BE A FUCK OR DIE-ESQUE FIC.  Smut will come in the second part.

***

“Why is it,” you ask, the heels of your leather boots clicking in perfect synchronization with the cloaked figure to your left, “that the greatest negotiator in the Jedi Order wields a blue saber, and not a green one?”

While you're unable to see his gentle smile from underneath your dark cowl, you sense a general wave of amusement reverberate through the Force from his direction.  The energy somehow feels like the equivalent of a lift inside the cavity in your chest; transparent, tinted a soft blue in color, comfortable, calm, and familiar.

“Perhaps we should trade,” comes that crisp and precise Coruscanti accent you've ached to hear for the past two years.  “No matter how much you lamented its color as a youngling, you know I have always been rather fond of yours.”

It’s true, you think.  The color green never really… agreed with you, and much less what it represents to the Jedi, but your Master always said he found the pastel hue of the saber currently clipped to your belt to be unique and appealing.  Green—any shade of it, really—is the color of the Jedi Consulars.  The peacekeepers, the diplomats, the healers and seers.  Their—your—inner nature and connection to the Force speaks to concord and harmony, and though you’ve come to accept your place amongst the pacifists and mediators in the Order after years of training and meditation, you still remember what a shock it was to discover the color of your kyber crystal as a youngling.

You always thought you’d have a blue saber.  The mark of the Guardians—the second of the three branches of Jedi.  Their skills are focused in battle, and any saber towards the far end of the color spectrum typically leads to specializing in lightsaber combat and warfare tactics.  That’s what you always thought your soul spoke to most—the warriors of the Order.  The soldiers and the members of the Jedi Core, the battle tacticians, the security of the Republic and law enforcers.  You were always a bit of a brash and emotional child compared to your peers, a bit of a handful as a youngling, and you were certain your saber would be some shade of blue because of that.  At that age, a yellow saber was maybe a possibility.  Though you didn’t really have the amount of friends a sociable, service-oriented Sentinel would have, you still felt that if you didn’t have a blue saber, then yellow was far more likely than green.  Yet, you still remember blinking down at your tiny, open palm deep in a cave on Ilum, stunned, a pale mint kyber crystal held precariously in it and nearly vibrating with how loudly it was calling to you through the Force.

“Did the Council do that on purpose, you think?”  You ask, the both of you taking a sharp right down another unfamiliar marble hallway with no spoken direction.  “Pair their most combative Consular with their most mild-mannered Guardian all those years ago, hoping we’d make a good team?”

“You know as well as I do that I chose you for a Padawan myself, young one,” your Master hums.  “And that… we have always been.”

It’s been two years since you last saw him.  Two years, since you passed your trials and graduated from his tutelage.  Knighthood has been good to you with the exception of your former Master’s extended absence, a consequence of your newfound independence as a bonafide member of the Order.  Though the circumstances surrounding your much anticipated reunion with him certainly aren’t ideal, you’re glad nonetheless that you’re face-to-face again—or, currently, shoulder-to-shoulder.

You hide the ghost of a smile under your hood and maintain a steady, calm signature in the Force, keeping in stride with him and speaking in hushed tones.  “Things must really be desperate if they’re putting us back together again.”

“I do not wish to alarm you,” he drawls, sarcastic in cadence but a hint of affection weaving through his voice all the same, “but we are in the middle of a war.”

“Fair,” you acknowledge with a tilt of your head, though being on a planet so far removed from the chaos currently wreaking havoc on the rest of the galaxy allows you the privilege of pretending for the moment.  “A threat to the very fabric of the Republic is the only reason the Council would sanction the two of us reuniting.”

Though you say it jokingly, there’s something hidden in it.  An unspoken apprehension you’re attempting to mask with the high spirits of seeing him again.  The stakes of the forthcoming interplanetary negotiation are absolutely staggering, and though it remains unsaid, you understand that just as well as he does.  Scared isn’t the right word, and neither is worried, but—

“I sense a mild trepidation in you, young one,” your Master murmurs, and yes, that’s it.  A mild trepidation.

“I am…”  You close your eyes and attempt to find the right words.  “I am… considering the long-term consequences should this endeavor fail,” you eventually settle on, allowing your feet to lead you left as you keep your pace with him.  “While I consider it a great honor to lead this negotiation on behalf of the Galactic Republic, I’m concerned the Council’s faith in me is… ill-placed.”

Your Master turns his head just marginally in your direction, and though you both can't technically see each other, you know the face he's making under the hood of his robe: his eyebrow is raised, his chin is tilted, and there's the faintest hint of an amused grin threatening to morph the slightly sassy expression to one of genuine humor.  “You distrust the Council’s judgement?”

“Failure and any potential repercussions will be mine alone to bear,” you clarify.  “It’s not the Council I lack faith in, but rather my own skills as a mediator.”

At this, the Jedi does chuckle.  “And I'm to assume I'm just the tauntaun next door in this scenario?”

The apprehension clears, almost immediately, and you can’t help but grin gently in return.  He always did have that effect on you.  “Better be,” you toss out, sensing the large congregation of lifeforms gradually burn brighter in the Force as you both continue your quiet approach.  “This is my negotiation, after all; the Council’s instructions were clear.”

“Very well,” he agrees.  “And, since this is your negotiation, I’m sure you’re more than aware of s’Ziscari etiquette and tradition?  Wouldn’t want to offend them by accident.”

“Of course,” you nod.  “But a… a quick refresher certainly wouldn’t hurt.”

Your Master just tsks quietly, but launches into a brief explanation for you all the same.  “It is the Council’s understanding that Queen s’Zerthia is absent from the Palace at the moment.  In lieu of an audience with her, Ambassador Zyther is the only other member of her Royal Majesty’s court who happens to be fluent in Basic, so be sure to address only him when you speak, and to speak slowly and clearly, as it’s crucial they understand our intentions are purely diplomatic in nature.  Do not forget the s’Ziscari are a Force sensitive race; they’ll be able to spot deception the second you think to speak it aloud.  Not that I anticipate the need to mislead them for any reason, of course, but please.  Be mindful.”

Instead of answering him, you direct an affirmative through the Force, and your Master continues.

“They are known to take offense to extended eye contact and they’re not fond of humor or small-talk either, so skip directly to the point: the Jedi are here on behalf of the Republic to garner the support of their planet during these times of war and great unease.  Intel tells us they have amassed an army of Force sensitives three times the size of the Order.  While we’re hoping for a pledge of at least a thousand soldiers to fight in the Clone Wars, we are more than willing to compromise and accept any assistance they’d be gracious enough to provide nonetheless.”

“In exchange for what?”  You ask, the throne room doors now in sight.  You were formally debriefed on mission details during the three day trip to s’Ziscari, but the answer to that specific question was kept purposefully vague, even for the likes of the Council.  Presently, you still have no idea what exactly you’re meant to be bargaining with, not for.

“In exchange for the continued security of having a peaceful and harmonious neighbor with which to share the galaxy,” he replies breezily, the both of you coming to a halt directly in front of two large wooden doors.  “Now.  Are you quite ready?”

“Hang on,” you say, turning to face him, and he carefully ducks his head and removes his hood with two hands as his body rotates to mirror yours.  “You’re telling me that we’re walking into the most important negotiation in the entire galaxy without actually having anything substantial to offer on our behalf?”

Slowly, the dark cowl is lifted from your head as well, and your eyes lock with a pair of calm cerulean blues staring back at you as he gently soothes the fabric down by your collar.  He looks older—ever since the Clone Wars started, Jedi Master General Obi-Wan Kenobi has aged significantly.  Gone are the long, flowing locks he sported for most of your youth—the short hair with a clean part is more refined, the beard fuller and more mature.  More… attractive than you remember him being, even though you always remembered him being… achingly attractive.

Instead of answering your question, however, he simply moves both hands to rest over the curve of your shoulders, lowering his head and lifting his eyebrows at you in a look of genuine sincerity that makes your heart thump painfully in your chest.

“I am so very proud of you, my former Padawan,” he tells you quietly, and you feel yourself nearly swell with warmth.  You’re strong enough in the Force to subdue the sentiment before it bleeds into your signature, but you can’t help the way your face flushes slightly and a girlish little smile pulls tight at your cheeks.  “You’ve grown into a fine Knight and an exemplar for the Order.  No matter the outcome of this mission, nor of this war, please know I’ve been truly blessed by the Maker to have been given the privilege of training you all these years.”

Master Kenobi tilts his head forward just slightly, allowing his Force signature to brush delicately against yours for just a moment, the soft periwinkles and lavenders of his energy swirling gently through your pastel seafoams and teals.

And then he clears his throat, straightens his spine, and claps his hands tight to your upper arms.

“Come now, Jedi,” he winks, turning his head to the double doors and breaking into a brilliant grin, the skin around his eyes crinkling with age but the sparkle in them still lovely and youthful and bright.  “The fate of the galaxy awaits.”

***

Master Obi-Wan Kenobi remembers very clearly the day he chose you as a Padawan.

You were a fiery little thing.  The Sentinels who raised younglings at the Academy would often speak about you at length to the Council, each of them reporting back with the same issues and concerns.  Too emotional, too chaotic, too rebellious for the likes of the Jedi.  You threw tantrums, you had outbursts, and to him, you were very likely the worst possible candidate for a negotiator to take on as an apprentice, if only because by all accounts it appeared that you were nigh impossible to negotiate with.

But then you caught his eye one day when Master Yoda was in the process of introducing him to your class.  You should’ve been paying attention to the wisdom being shared by the oldest Consular in the Order (and, admittedly, so should he) but instead, you were gazing quietly at a dove that made its nest on the transparisteel dome arching across the ceiling.  Obi-Wan remembers feeling your energy cautiously reach out towards it, gentler than anything he could’ve expected from a child of your age and reputation, and the moment stuck with him.

The younglings were each allowed one possession at the Academy, and when it came time for him to choose a Padawan, he swiped yours, if only to see what you’d do.  A stuffed rancor you’d endearingly named Cory—rather hideous looking thing, if you asked him—and he was told you were fiercely protective over it.

Obi-Wan remembers carefully setting the stuffed animal down next to him in one of the old storage rooms in the isolated training area, locking the door manually and then taking a quick second to cloak his Force signature.  You had three options, he figured, if you were able to find its location.  Use the Force to unlock the door, use the brand new saber clipped to your belt to create your own door, or leave without your stuffed rancor.  Based off your reputation as an emotionally volatile little youngling, he was assuming he’d have to replace the frame and wall paneling altogether, but regardless, Obi-Wan figured that if you had the nerve to break into the locked room to retrieve your missing possession, he would train you, and if you didn’t, then he’d find someone else.

He waited patiently, meditating for a few hours on your signature from across the Academy.  He went through the subsequent stages with you.  A bright flare of panic, probably from noticing its absence from your quarters.  Sharp sparks of frustration for the next few minutes, likely in response to nobody knowing where it went.  He was expecting some sort of distraught next as you began making your way through the Academy to search for it yourself, some sort of upset, but then you surprised him for the second time.

All at once… Quiet.  Serenity.  Your signature carefully sweeping out in all directions as you walked through the halls, calmly attempting to locate your missing possession.

Obi-Wan pondered this as you approached, and what it might mean.  Were you just an excellent student when you felt the stakes were high enough?  Were you capable of listening to instructions despite what he’d heard about you in passing?  Were you simply just strong in the Force?  Or was there perhaps more to you than what others had told him?

Soon, he could hear your footsteps come to a halt in front of the locked door.  He waited silently; hidden in the darkness, hidden in the Force, barely breathing while he listened for either the sound of a lightsaber turning on or a lock clicking.  He knew you’d find some way to breach the entrance somehow; he knew you wouldn’t just give up and leave.

Except, then all he heard was a quiet little rap of knuckles against metal.

“Master Kenobi?”  A small voice called through the door, and Obi-Wan froze.

To your credit, he wasn’t focusing on hiding himself the way he should’ve been.  Had you been roughly ten years older, he might’ve taken the time to concentrate a bit harder on it, but truthfully, that’s not what surprised him the most.

You didn’t break in at all.

Instead, you… knocked.

“Master Kenobi?”  You tried again after a moment, your knuckles tapping quietly on the door once more.

“Em…”  He eventually cleared his throat.  “Yes?”

“I think you may have accidentally taken something of mine on accident,” you carefully said after a moment, the overly cautious intent not to offend or intrude suddenly striking him as an invaluable trait in a potential negotiator.  “May I please have him back please?”

You were quite a handful at times, Obi-Wan thinks, but it’s been so long.  So long since he’s had to correct you in any way.  As the years passed, you aged from an emotional Padawan to a refined Knight, a hot-tempered adolescent to a disciplined and capable young Jedi.

Now he looks on as you greet the s’Ziscari Ambassador to the Republic, your head bowed in respect and your eyes focused somewhere near the man’s chest.  It appears the two of you have an audience for your audience—members of the Royal Court are sitting perched in a tiered viewing gallery, speaking quietly amongst themselves as you introduce Obi-Wan and state your purpose to the room.

Your voice rings out sharp and clear, and throughout the entire negotiation, not once does he feel compelled to assist you in any way.  You do everything right—you make fair points without stepping on any toes, you never allow the Ambassador’s booming voice intimidate you or sway your collected composure.

Obi-Wan meant what he said.  He’s proud of you.

Though… though at one point throughout the mediation, something about this starts to not… feel right.

It’s the Royal Court, he realizes.  They’ve stopped talking, they’re… paying attention.  It doesn’t make sense—none of them speak Basic, they must just be reading the energies in the room.  Nothing spectacular has happened—no outburst, nothing to draw their attention any more than when you both first made your entrance.  The Ambassador’s voice continues to echo throughout the vast ceilings and contrast with the pleasant and tranquil alto of your steady responses, but then Obi-Wan suddenly goes rigid and spins around— 

The Royal Count immediately stands in unison as the Ambassador abruptly cuts off, and a familiar signature reveals itself in the Force.

***

The Queen.

The Queen is here.

You keep your head down and follow the intricate laced bodice of her gown as she makes her entrance into the grand throne room, gliding right between you and your Master before climbing the stairs and collapsing down onto the throne with a sigh.  The Council was misinformed concerning her whereabouts, apparently.

The Court finds a seat not long after she does, and you clench your jaw at the unfortunate twist of events.  Her presence means that whatever progress you’ve made with the Ambassador is now, for all intents and purposes, moot.

There’s also just something… odd about her and her energy, you think, something you can’t quite place.  The second she turns her head and looks in your eyes is the second you forget all about avoiding eye contact with her, but if she’s offended by your sudden lack of etiquette, she displays no signs of it.  In fact, you’d almost argue she looks intrigued.

“Your Majesty,” you greet.  “I was just—”

“I got the gist,” she waves a manicured hand at you.  “What was your name again, little girl?”

You tell her, and put a hard emphasis on your full title.  She may be a monarch, but you are a General in the Clone Wars and a Knight of the Republic, and an attempt by the opposing party at intimidation by flippant degradation will not be tolerated.

“Pleasure,” she nods.  “May I ask what your people are willing to offer in exchange for the military assistance you’re seeking?”

You swallow thickly, your stomach sinking.  “Truly, your Majesty, I… I cannot provide you with a specific answer to that at this time.  However, we would gladly be willing to—”

“Perhaps you can answer me this, then, little Knight, since I never was able to obtain anything satisfactory from your High Council,” the Queen interrupts, studying her jeweled manicure and sounding bored with the conversation she just initiated, and you feel your Master stiffen behind you.  “If we s’Ziscari are so incredibly important to the Jedi, as you previously insisted to the Ambassador multiple times, then why in Maker’s name does the Council reject invitations to partake in our people’s most sacred of ceremonies year after year?”

You’re… you’re at a complete loss for words.  The Sentinels have dedicated ambassadors to travel the territories specifically for these reasons, to keep political relations agreeable between outer-rim planets and the Jedi.  There would be no discernible reason as to why the Council would reject attendance to an annual s’Ziscari cultural celebration, especially if their standing military was even half as powerful in the Force as rumors would imply.

Obviously you’re not privy to any of this information, so you subtly reach out to Master Kenobi’s Force signature with a tiny flicker of uncertainty, silently questioning your next move.  However, before you can barely even mentally gauge the calm, sky blue of his aura, your Master’s outer-shields slam into place and even so much as shove against your open question in warning.

“It was—” You trip over your sentence, heart thumping in your chest with panic at his unprecedented response to you, “—It was never our intention to cause any offense, I’m certain—”

“And yet great offense was caused nonetheless,” the Queen returns.  “However.  As it just so happens, you’ve arrived on my planet the day the Sh’inzith Ritual is to commence.  Because of that, I am more than willing to allow the Order to remedy their grave lapse in judgement tonight, in exchange for…”  She tilts her chin at you, considering.  “Ten thousand soldiers to fight in your little war.  What say you, Jedi?”

No, this is wrong.  This is all wrong—an addition of ten thousand trained Force sensitives would put an immediate end to the Clone Wars.  Full stop.  Instead of being tempted by the bait, however, you’re just becoming increasingly wary of it.

Regardless of how on edge you are, you keep an unbothered composure and continue stunting any major change to your signature.  “You cannot expect me to agree to a deal before knowing the finer points of its terms, my Queen.”

“Of course not,” she agrees diplomatically.  “My terms are simple, really.  All you have to do is—”

“If you will pardon the interruption,” Master Kenobi’s voice suddenly rings out from behind you for the first time in what feels like ages, and he takes a few steps forward until he’s standing directly adjacent to you.  “Apologies to the Court, but my companion and I have grown very weary from a long tr—”

“No apologies necessary, Master Kenobi,” the Queen grins, her eyes flicking away from yours.  “Thought I saw you back there.  Shall I elaborate?  I’ll make it quick, so you don’t fall asleep.”

There’s a tense, pregnant silence that fills the throne room as everybody waits for his response, and you’re left wondering how your Master knows this woman.  

He breaks eye contact with the monarch first and stares down at the floor while he considers his answer, before finally settling on a quiet, “Leave us.”

The Queen nods exactly once and everyone in the gallery rises and slowly files out.  You take a moment to glance around at the handful of guards surrounding the throne room, waiting for their perfect statuesque posture to falter.  Only, they remain completely motionless.

You turn back to the Queen, watching you thoughtfully from her elevated throne, and then to your Master, who’s… still looking down at the floor.

It takes you a bit longer than it should, even then.

Obi-Wan says your name in a tight, urging tone, not even bothering to turn his head to address you.  “Please.”

What?

You?  He wants you to leave?  But… the Council said… they said that this is your negotiation.  Clearly they failed to provide you with some very crucial piece of information, so now he’s dismissing you because of it?  Openly?  In front of the other party?

“But… But I was supposed to—”

“Padawan,” he all but snaps at you.  “Please.”

You stand there, holding yourself as still as possible, absolutely stunned.  Your Master has never spoken to you this way.  You’ve never heard him speak to anyone this way.

The Queen just smiles down at you saccharinely from her throne, clearly enjoying your blatant discomfort and embarrassment.

This is humiliating.

You’d never say it out loud.  But as you quietly leave the throne room, two guards on either side accompanying you to your chambers, you practically shove the words at him through the Force, trying your absolute hardest not to let the hurt through.  Though in hindsight, you may have emphasized the last part a bit too harshly.

Of course.  Master.

***

Obi-Wan realizes the grievousness of his mistake the second it comes out of his mouth.  He doesn’t need the extended moment of silence as you work to process the unintentional insult.  He doesn’t need the way your Force signature suddenly seems incredibly small, like it shrank in on itself in mortification.  He most definitely does not need the spiteful remark reverberating around his brain as your footsteps fade into nothingness, the thought so sharp and directed that he’d likely have trouble blocking it out.

“Strange,” the Queen drawls out in his direction, breaking him from the whirlwind of his thoughts.  “Do you really still view her as a Padawan?  But she’s such a pretty girl.  And she was doing so well.”

“I will not speak of this with you,” Obi-Wan replies candidly, abandoning all pleasantries now that they’re alone.

“Oh, but you will,” s’Zerthia tuts, somehow sounding disapproving and gleeful in equal parts.  “If you want your army, that is.”

“Must you be so cruel, Your Majesty?”  Obi-Wan sighs, lowering his head and rubbing the bridge of his nose.  Maker, he’s getting a headache.  “Are the Uncharted Regions truly that dull?”

“Come now, old friend,” she grins, tilting her head at him as she relaxes back in her throne.  “You’ve known of my nature since we were introduced at the Senate all those decades ago.  There is a reason you’re still with the peace-loving wizard monks and I am now the reigning monarch over twenty thousand square parsecs of territories.”

“Yes,” Obi-Wan acknowledges.  “And now we are grown.  Though it appears someone has yet to remind you.”

“Contrary to what you may believe, General Kenobi, this is not about me,” the Queen sighs.  “My people do not look kindly upon the Jedi.  The Ritual is a celebration of our connection with the Force, and denying an invitation, to them, is akin to denying their existence as a Force sensitive people.  I can give you your army at any time, of course—I am Queen.  But I fear that will not be enough.  The s’Ziscari will not willingly fight for you until you pay your due respects to our culture.”

“Queen s’Zerthia,” he exhales, clearly exasperated, “I cannot call myself Jedi and partake in such… proclivities.  The Council will never agree to such measures.  There must be some other way.”

“There isn’t, old friend,” she huffs shortly, her signature beginning to spark with impatience.  “Make your choice.”

“I am not having sex in an arena, s’Zerthia,” he hisses.

“Then the Republic shall fall.”

“You’ll let trillions die—”

“Do not speak to me as if you are not the only person who can change that, Jedi!”  The Queen suddenly barks, her voice echoing throughout the empty throne room and booming with frustration.  “I cannot make them fight!  They love their Queen, but I am thirty-nine years old, for star’s sake!  These traditions have lasted for millennia!  Would you abandon the ways of your religion simply because your leader ordered it so?”

“That is exactly what you’re demanding of me,” he returns sharply.

“Yes,” s’Zerthia acknowledges.  “But you are but one martyr, Obi-Wan Kenobi.  Not an army.”

Obi-Wan sighs.  “I’ve… s’Zerthia, I’ve never…  It’s forbidden.  And now you’re asking me to break my oath in front of an audience… with someone I don’t know?”  He keeps his voice as steady as possible, but he knows it’s useless.  The Queen of the s’Ziscari will see the wavering in his Force signature.  The underlying pulse of fear at the center.

It’s her turn to sigh.  “The Sh’inzith is about celebrating our connection with the Force… consensually.  I… may be able to speak to some of my people about the possibility of you participating in private, due to the,” she clears her throat, “delicate nature of the situation, as well as your particular upbringing.  However.  You will have to project during the… closing ceremonies, if only to prove your direct involvement.  This is the best I can do.  Do we have an agreement?”

Obi-Wan drops his gaze.  “I… I don’t know.  I must confer with the Council first.  But… but with their permission…”  He chooses to leave his sentence unfinished, still so unbelievably uncomfortable with the terms of this nightmare to agree to them aloud.

“Understood,” she nods.  “Then I shall arrange to send someone to your chambers at midnight unless you notify my staff otherwise.  Which would you prefer—a man or a woman?”

He stays silent, his stomach churning in discomfort.  He doesn’t think he’s ever even considered the question before.  He truly doesn’t know how to answer it.

Intuitively, the Queen moves on.  “No matter.  What of the girl, then?  A man would do well for her, I’m assuming?”

He lifts his head, furrowing his eyebrows.  “The girl?  What girl?”

“The girl,” s’Zerthia repeats blankly.  “All Jedi present will need to participate, of course.”

“No,” Obi-Wan says immediately, taking a few steps forward.  “No, that wasn’t the deal.  The girl has been a Knight for barely two years, she’s never even heard of the Ritual.  She has no part in this.”

“And yet she was meant to lead this negotiation, was she not?”  She tsks in disappointment, each staccato click of her tongue echoing throughout the vast ceilings and rafters of the room.  “Is that how you Jedi treat your women?  Throw her headfirst into a mediator’s position with none of the details she needs to be successful, dismiss and humiliate her when she inevitably fails, and subsequently refuse any involvement in a potential solution on her behalf because she ‘has no part in this’?  Perhaps I should be offended that the Jedi thought so little of the s’Ziscari as to assign someone of her standing to lead this negotiation, but as of right now, considering the mere fact that my palace is still intact, I’m actually starting to believe your little Padawan may just be the best of you.”

Obi-Wan says absolutely nothing in response, his heart panging in his chest in shame hearing it put into words that way.  He’s never been one to question the decision-making of the Council, but assigning you to this mission had admittedly been something he himself couldn’t quite puzzle out.  Obi-Wan understands the need to further develop your diplomatic skills, but the terms of this specific negotiation were just far too complex and far too crucial to the survival of the Republic to gamble on one of the youngest Knights in the Order.  By all accounts, you shouldn’t be here, but the Council was very specific in their instructions.  You were to lead negotiations, and Obi-Wan was to act as reinforcement should anything happen to go awry.

The Queen quietly studies the Jedi Master all the while, tilting her head thoughtfully.  “None of this makes any sense, does it?”

Again, Obi-Wan maintains his silence with a furrowed brow and a far-off look on his face.

“What’s so different about this one?”  She asks him, sincere curiosity appearing to overtake her in the moment.  “This girl, specifically, out of everyone—why would they choose her for this negotiation?  There’d be no discernible reason, unless they wanted her to—”

She cuts herself off abruptly as Obi-Wan quickly flicks his gaze over to her.  When she’s silent for too long, he has to prompt her.  “Unless they wanted her to what?”

“Ah,” she whispers at once, her expression immediately clearing in understanding.  “Clever.  Diabolical, manipulative, and entirely unexpected from a group of glorified cultists with brightly colored laser swords.  But oh, so clever.”

Obi-Wan is starting to become very frustrated with this conversation.

“You know,” the Queen continues, back to studying her manicure, “I used to lament my lack of free will as a member of royalty by marriage.  My husband, Maker rest his soul, could never yearn for what he did not know, but as the daughter of a Senator, I was born as low as you.  I was a Miss once,” she laughs airily, as if the thought of her holding that title is absolutely ridiculous now.  “I knew the difference between a life of freedom and that of a puppet.  But.  At least my superiors revoked my autonomy to my face.  Your Council sees fit to pull strings from behind a curtain.”

“You think the Council wanted this?”  He can’t keep the intense skepticism from lacing his tone, despite his best efforts.

The Queen suddenly looks up from her jeweled fingernails and pins him with a hard stare.  “Will you bed a stranger even with the direct permission of your betters?”  She shoots at him, quite unexpectedly and shameless in her phrasing.

Obi-Wan nearly jerks back, the abrupt change in subject and rather personal question startling him.  “I—”

“Would you have asked your Padawan to accompany you here if you’d been put in charge of negotiations instead?”

“I’m not sure I—”

“Do you think it simply a coincidence the two of you were scheduled to arrive on my planet exactly ten hours before a festivity that only happens once every five hundred and some-odd cycles begins?”

“I can assure you I was not privy the t—”

“Why is the girl here?”

He… he doesn’t understand.  It’s like she’s trying to have four conversations with him at once.  He’s getting whiplash.  “s’Zerthia.”

“Obi-Wan.  Come now, don’t be daft.”  She goes back to picking at her fingernails, clearly done with her interrogation for the time being.  “She’s here because she is a thousand times more prepared to participate in the Sh’inzith than you are, of course.”

Obi-Wan blinks.  “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means the Council knew full well what the terms of this negotiation would be,” the Queen shrugs.  “Though you may not be too familiar with Jedi-s’Ziscari interplanetary relations, I can assure you we have openly voiced our offense to their denial of our invitations multiple times.  We still send them, of course, as is tradition.  We have for a few centuries at least.  A formal alliance would obviously require some act of rectification on the Council’s behalf, so therefore the only logical assumption to be made is that the girl was chosen for this mission specifically with that in mind.  She likely didn’t take an oath of celibacy or something of t—”

“All Jedi take oaths of celibacy,” Obi-Wan interjects with a startlingly unfamiliar edge to his voice, clearly warning her not to continue on in this direction.

”Oh, apologies; I misspoke,” she clarifies.  “She probably didn’t take an oath of celibacy seriously, or something of the sort.”

“Mind yourself, s’Zerthia,” he warns her.  “I care not of your position nor our history, you will not speak of my protégé that way—”

“Oh, she’s your protégé now?”  She grins, amusement flashing in her eyes.  “I see.  Because we both have been referring to her as your Padawan up until the moment someone other than you decided to insult her, so I wasn’t sure.  Forgive me.”

Obi-Wan flushes and opens his mouth once, twice.  He is quite honestly speechless at how his… long-time acquaintance is so truly gifted at creating sentences that somehow manage to turn themselves into icy daggers in midair, so instead, he takes a different approach.  “E-Even… even if you were slightly correct with that… a-absolutely baseless accusation, it makes no sense,” he reasons desperately, still trying to find some way out of all this.  “Breaking an oath of celibacy in her youth does not at all mean she’d be any more likely to lie with a s’Ziscari to complete a diplomatic mis—”

“No,” the Queen agrees, “it means she’d be more likely to lie with a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan stops dead.

She laughs, a soft tinkle of a sound, taking in the underlying shock of his demeanor.  “By all their faults, the Council is not stupid.”  She almost sounds… impressed.  “Think, Obi-Wan.  Pair the Greatest Negotiator in the Order with his newly ordained Knight?  The one young enough to not have the strict pillars of your cult of a religion so hopelessly cemented into her mindset?  The one who so very clearly considers you to be far more than a mentor to her?  The Council knew you’d be incredibly reluctant to bed anyone, let alone a stranger from the Uncharted Regions, but they also knew of our history as friends—if anyone in the Order was in a position to make the deal with me, it was you, so if anyone in the Order was in a position to therefore… persuade you to follow through with the conditions of said deal, it was her.  To gain ten thousand more Force sensitives and win a galactic war, all your Council had to do was shove two of their most agreeable Generals into bed with one another.  Beautifully executed, Machiavellian at its core.  Stars.  I knew politics suited the Jedi, but this is just…”

Obi-Wan feels his chest sinking deeper and deeper by the second as she kisses her fingers animatedly.

“…Masterful,” s’Zerthia finishes, turning to smile widely at him, positively delighted in her demeanor.  “I do say, I may have met my match in your superiors, Obi-Wan.  Perhaps they shall make better allies than I’d originally assumed.  If nothing else, this little display of cunning and manipulation gives me faith that perhaps the Republic isn’t so completely doomed after all.”

“Do you truly think they’d be so cruel?”  He finds himself asking quietly after a moment.

“These are times of war, old friend,” she tilts her head with as much solemn comfort in her voice as she can reasonably provide.  “They knew the terms, and they knew you wouldn’t agree if you knew them in advance.  This was the only way.  And honestly, should a… well, let’s face it, a rather attractive coupling be all that stands between the galaxy and total destruction, I’d say that may just be a fair price to pay.  My only lament thus far is your rather timid demeanor.  You two would’ve made for a crowd favorite.”

The Queen’s assertion startles him so much that Obi-Wan outright defaults back to skeptical pragmatism instead of entertaining elaborate and incredibly far-fetched conspiracy theories.  “Yes, yes, s’Zerthia, but—but this whole entire scheme hinges on the completely incorrect assumption that she and I would actually be willing… willing to…”  He can’t even finish the sentence.

“How old are you, Obi-Wan?”  She raises a perfectly arched eyebrow at him, thoroughly unimpressed with his sudden lack of articulation.  “We are of similar age, correct?  Are you outright incapable of saying the word ‘fuck’?”

“Quit being foul,” he snaps.  “It suits your personality, not your tongue.”

“So quick-witted in conversation for someone so incredibly dim-witted in practice,” she muses, as if this entire thing is incredibly entertaining to her.  “Do you really not see the way she looks at you?”

“She respects me,” Obi-Wan declares meaningfully.  “She’s loyal.  She thinks much higher of me than I deserve.  She’d stand alone in the face of an army if it pleased me and she’d stand tall—”

“That’s not the only position she’d assume to please you,” the Queen mutters under her breath, pausing to give him a sweet little smile as Obi-Wan burns a hole through her with his glare.  “The only variable remaining is your willingness to please her.  After all, the offer to lie with a s’Ziscari instead will always be up for the both of your considerations, as is the ability to walk away entirely at any time of course.  I’m assuming the Council was relying on the fact that you’d pitch an absolute fit after being informed her involvement was required—which, naturally, you did.  And then they gambled on the answer to a question you’ve yet to ask yourself.”  She leans forward and tilts her head at him, lacing her manicured fingers together.  “Perhaps it’s not a matter of how willing you are to sleep with your Padawan to save the galaxy from complete and total annihilation, Master Kenobi, but simply a matter of whether or not the clueless little thing will want it bad enough to be able to convince you to do it.  This—this is a real negotiation for her now.”

“s’Zerthia—” Obi-Wan sputters, “—I—She—I’ve traversed her consciousness more than anyone in the entire galaxy, and not once has she ever even hinted at the possibility that she—”

“And can you blame her?  My, the scandal it would cause!”  The Queen presses the back of her hand to her forehead and collapses dramatically back into her throne.  “A Jedi Knight secretly harboring feelings for her Master?  In my good temple?  Shame!  Shame!  Sha—!”

“You think you know more of my successor than I?”  Obi-Wan interrupts sharply, somehow more irritated now at the insinuation than he’d been the entire conversation.  “The youngling I raised?  The one I handpicked to take my place in the Order, you think you know more of her heart than I?”

“Yes.”  s’Zerthia answers him simply, straightening up on her throne and abandoning all theatrics.  “Because you did not see her face when you called her Padawan.  I did.  And I also happen to know far better than most that hiding the truth from nosy Force sensitive authoritarians is most easily accomplished by controlling one’s energy signature.  Jedi, s’Ziscari, it matters not the culture—you lot spend far too much effort reading into the Force than simply looking someone in their eyes to learn the truth.  Look her in the eyes next time, Master Kenobi.  Then you will understand.”

***

You’re furious.

The Jedi are not meant to feel fury.  But you are a Jedi, and by the Maker, do you feel it.

“Padawan?”  You hiss, pacing the length of your bedchamber with clenched fists, trying to control the volume of your voice so desperately that the words come out shaky and slurred.  “Padawan?  Is that what he thinks of me?  That I’m still a youngling?!”

You haven’t been this upset since you were a small child.  And the thought stops you dead in your tracks.

You are a General.  You are a Consular.  You are a Knight.

Regardless of what he may believe.

So you climb up onto your unnecessarily large bed, crawling the incredibly soft fur blanket of an animal you’ve never seen before to sit yourself in the very center of the mattress, crossing your legs.  Though it takes you longer than it has in years, you’re finally able to relax your breathing and clear your mind, slipping into a deep meditative state.

You don’t know how long you stay in that position, nor do you really care to. But when your Force signature feels the slightest brush of your Master’s, likely just looking for your location within the palace, you’re a bit too late in slamming your mental barriers up in response.  You know he still senses the reciprocal shove he gave you earlier, the shocking feeling of being practically hurled out of someone’s mind with unprecedented ferocity.  But he also knows where you are now.

So, like you’re a youngling at the Academy again, you just pretend to meditate.  Like an actual child, you close your eyes and focus on just sitting still.  You shouldn’t be responding this way, you tell yourself.  Restraining your emotional response has been hammered into you for decades—keeping calm when you’re upset is your default, it’s how you’ve lived your entire adult life.  Why can you not seem to accomplish it now?

What… what is this?  This toxic, absolutely dreadful emotion?  It's hard placing them sometimes when you were taught from infancy to just will them away instead of processing them.  It’s not fury, not anymore.  It isn’t sadness, either.  You’ve been sad—you’ve been sad for two years straight, and it feels nothing like this.

You’re throwing a tantrum, you realize.  That’s what this must be.  You’re reverting back to your childhood, back to when you felt discounted and disapproved of by nearly everyone around you.  You haven’t felt this way in years, not since you met Master Kenobi.  This is hurt.  Just pure, irrational, emotional pain, and it’s manifesting itself in truly ugly ways.

You can feel his signature glow just marginally brighter in the Force as your Master steadily approaches.  You take slow breaths, trying to rearrange yourself into something at least mildly composed and tranquil, but it feels almost impossible.  So instead, you just try to ignore the past few hours and think back on all the things your Master used to tell you when you were like this, this raging turmoil of emotions overtaking you and causing you to lash out.  

You are a Consular, child, he’d say, and if you focus, you can practically hear the musical cadence of his calm, comforting voice.  A peacekeeper.  A dove.  When faced with a locked door, what must you always do?

Master Kenobi’s knuckles rap on the entrance to your quarters quietly, and you blink your eyes open, taking another deep breath before replying.  “It’s open.”

The door opens and he takes a few steps inside the room, stopping immediately when he lifts his head up and sees you sitting on your bed.

You both stare at each other in silence for way too long, and you’re not… really sure why.  You’re obviously just waiting for him to say something, take the lead in this conversation since he was clearly a better fit to take the lead on this mission, but he just looks at you.  For an eternity, he looks at you.  Completely blank.

He suddenly jerks his spine straight and breaks eye contact with you, coughing and flicking bright blue eyes around the space as if he’s just noticing it.  “Ah, I… Apologies, this is the wrong room.  I thought… my quarters are—I must confer with the Council.  Please, excuse me.”

And then he turns around and leaves.

You blink a few times, wide-eyed and completely bewildered as the door slides shut behind his billowing cloak.

He… he knocked on the door to his own quarters?  And then… and then he waited for you to call him in?

What in Maker’s name is going on?

***

“This is unbelievable,” Obi-Wan sighs, and the hologram of Master Windu rubs his blue flickering temples in slow circles, looking equally as exasperated as Obi-Wan sounds.  “Did you know the Ritual was to take place tonight?”

“The Council had no idea,” the fellow Guardian murmurs, and something pulls tight in Obi-Wan’s chest, remembering the Queen’s assertion that the s’Ziscari continue to send invitations to the Council every year.  Perhaps… perhaps there was some sort of an oversight, he thinks, due to the Clone Wars taking precedence for the Order.  “Intel told us she’d be off-planet for at least another week.”

Well now, that doesn’t make much sense, not if the Ritual is to begin soon.  None of what Master Windu has said throughout the conversation has made any sense at all regarding the situation.  Obi-Wan… Obi-Wan thought he’d feel better after speaking to another member of the Council, not more uncertain.

“What does Master Yoda think of all this?”  He eventually tries, but the holographic projection of Master Windu sighs and tilts his head regretfully, his upper body flickering and waving with intermittent static.

“Master Yoda is currently dispatched to Rugosa to convince King Katuunko to allow the Republic to build a base in Toydarian territory,” he replies solemnly, and Obi-Wan… needs to meditate.  Yes.  Meditation sounds like a phenomenal idea.  “Are you certain there is no more room for negotiating?”

“An ultimatum was given,” Obi-Wan says shortly.  “These are the terms.”

Master Windu takes quite a while before responding, but when he does, he speaks calmly and with purpose, addressing him with a formal opinion.  “Then the Council will leave this matter up to the discretions of you and your former Padawan, Master Kenobi.  This mission designation has hereby been elevated to the highest level of classified and your subsequent choices need not be reported, nor will they affect either of your places in the Order.  May the Force guide you and be with you both through these uncertain times.”

The transmission is cut and Obi-Wan feels his insides twist.  

He collapses onto his bed and groans quietly, burying his face in his hands and finding it easier to just conceal his Force signature altogether than attempt to mask the anxiety and crushing pressure he feels threatening to overwhelm him.

This is not good.  This is, in fact, very much a disaster.  This is a mess.  This is far worse than anything he could’ve possibly imagined when he was first assigned to this mission.  

Obi-Wan slowly rakes all ten of his fingers down the sides of his beard, lifting his chin and then letting them drag all the way down his throat, and the quiet scratchy sound it makes mixes in with another longer, even more exhausted groan.

Maker.  First things first, he needs to apologize to you and explain the situation.  Neither one of those things will be easy to accomplish, but in the grand scheme, they’ll be far simpler than anything else facing him.

He… he takes a second to think about you, about the awful way he unintentionally disrespected you earlier.  Stars—he handled this terribly.  He was caught off guard and he owes you an explanation, but he’s at a complete loss as to how to go about it.

And why… Why must you have been sitting on your bed?  Staring up at him silently, waiting for him atop the very place he’s just been given permission to… to…

Obi-Wan shakes his head and clamps his eyes shut, rubbing them with a bit too much vigor to be from tiredness and stress alone.  He should meditate.  He should meditate, let his mind break free of the nerves and sudden change of events, but he doesn’t have time to even begin unscrambling the chaos of his thoughts.  It’s getting late, and he has an obligation to tell you about the situation as soon as possible, to give you as much time as he can to process the decision facing you before the clock runs out.

He’s dreading this.  He’s absolutely dreading it, but it needs to be done.

***

After your Master leaves, less than a half hour passes before you hear another knock on the door.

By then, you’re just sitting there.  Sitting there, empty.  This is good, really.  Truly, this is a good thing.  A flat emotional state is what you should always strive for, but… nothing about it feels like peace, really.  No, this just feels… grey.  Desaturated.  Dull.

“It’s open,” you call once again, and Master Kenobi quietly enters your chambers.  This time you don’t look at him, though.  You don’t really… feel the need to, especially from the way his signature is still just barely presenting itself to you, still so guarded and cautious around you when he’s never been this way before.

Your Master comes to a stop right in front of the edge of the mattress, and stands there for a few moments in silence.  You just blink down at the mattress and wait, undisturbed, until you hear him heave a long, heavy sigh, before spinning around and unceremoniously sinking down to the floor at the foot of the bed.

Something about it breaks through your blank, almost dissociative state.  Your eyebrows narrow just slightly where your gaze is pinned to the fur covering the mattress, hearing him sigh heavily once more out of your line of sight, but it’s enough to urge you to crawl forward until you can see him sitting on the floor at the foot of the mattress, bent over on himself, his head buried in his hands.  You’ve never seen your Master look so… vulnerable before.  So small—not in all the years you’ve known each other.  His energy is so concealed that you’re just barely able to sense anything besides the mere presence of his signature, but he’s clearly distraught with just as much emotion you were struggling with earlier, and suddenly…

Suddenly a calmness sweeps through you.  A gentle sort of kindness fills your soul, slowly flooding your energy with color once again at the sight of someone who’s usually so composed struggling so openly in front of you.

Carefully, you lower yourself down until you’re seated on the floor next to him, your back pressed up against the side of the mattress as he continues to hide his face from you.  You stay there, not touching him, not saying anything, but just radiating a steady tranquility through the room from the very center of your being, anchoring him through his storm until it clears.

The sun goes down through the window before either of you speak.  Your Master eventually drops his hands from his face and takes a deep breath, choosing to break the silence first.

“Before I begin,” he finally says, his shoulders still uncharacteristically tight and full of tension, even though his voice is soft.  “I must… I must sincerely apologize to you.  This type of subject matter makes me extraordinarily uncomfortable and I took that out on you, and it was absolutely unacceptable behavior on my behalf.  Unfortunately, I can offer you no explanation that wouldn't count as an excuse for something that was completely inexcusable.”

“I understand,” you reassure him, just as quietly, but then quickly correct yourself.  “Well, no—I don’t.  I don’t understand, but.  Judging from your demeanor, I can only assume things have become… a bit more complicated.”

Your Master takes another full, deep inhale.  “Yes, that’s…” he empties his lungs of air with a huff, amused but in a way that’s not really amused.  “That’s certainly one way of putting it.”

“Do you…”  You blink at the floor, still keeping your voice and energy as gentle as possible.  “Just—before… before you begin… Do you truly think of me as your Padawan still?”

“No,” he answers firmly.  Immediately, and with less hesitation than anything he’s said so far.  “I do not.”

You nod, the finality in his tone leading you to believe that’s the end of his sentence, but then he eventually lowers his voice and continues.

“But sometimes, I…”  Your Master sounds conflicted, like he’s not sure he should be saying this aloud.  He still hasn’t looked at you.  “I find myself… wishing you were.  That we could go back to those days, the days before the war.  Before fighting armies, and leading them… and now recruiting them.  The happiest and most fulfilling days of my life were spent with you by my side, young one.  I am not telling you this in an attempt to justify or defend my actions in any way, I am telling you this simply because I don’t want an egregious misunderstanding of this magnitude to continue to fester between us when it can be addressed right here and now.  In the face of incredible discomfort, I selfishly reverted the terms of our relationship back to what they were two years ago—not because I subconsciously think of you as my Padawan still or that I somehow haven’t recognized your unprecedented list of accomplishments as a Knight—but because you, the former title, and the nature of the relationship it entails were the only things familiar to me when everything else around was so incredibly and uncomfortably foreign.  I humbly beg your forgiveness for ever allowing you to spend a single second of your time thinking differently, never mind hours of it.”

You blink, startled by the sudden articulation and sincerity of the apology.  “I—it’s… it’s okay.”

“It’s not,” Master Kenobi softly counters, “but your forgiveness is greatly appreciated, no matter how undeserved.”

You smile at him.  It’s one of those gentle, sad smiles—the kind of smile that would feel fake if it wasn’t for the comfort you’re trying to provide with it.  Carefully, you place a hand on the bend of his knee.  “Do you have a place you’d like to start, or would it be easier for you if I asked specific questions?”

He looks at you.  Finally.  For the first time, his clear blue eyes rise to meet yours and he looks… grateful.  “Ask.  Please.  That would be so much better.”

“A ritual begins tonight,” you say after a moment, studying his handsome facial features for some kind of confirmation of the information you’ve managed to piece together, but then your Master abruptly breaks eye contact with you and lowers his gaze once more.  “Yet the Sentinels historically choose not to partake.  Why?”

“Because… the Ritual… contains proceedings that stand in direct opposition to the values and teachings of the Jedi,” he explains to the floor.  “It goes against the core pillars of our religion to even spectate.  The Uncharted Regions are… different.  They follow neither the laws nor the customs of the Republic.  It was decided long ago to politely decline their invitations, though we offered many times to meet during another time of the year.  The Council had no idea the Queen would take this much offense.”

You have to ask.  It’s important for you to know, but his rather vague explanation serves to peak your trepidation just as much as it does your curiosity.  “…What is…”  Maker, you’ve gone unbelievably quiet.  “What is the Ritual, Master?”

Obi-Wan goes just as quiet, looking down at his hands as they fiddle idly in his lap.  “Ah.  Yes.  That.  Well, the—th-the Ritual is, uh.  Uh—”

You blink softly at him and his abrupt loss of articulation, trying to rearrange your expression to be encouraging without appearing too eager.

He suddenly cuts himself off and looks up at you, pinning you with an ocean-deep blue gaze once more.  “It’s a celebration of fertility.”

You blink once more at him, this time quite stupidly.

“People are encouraged to be intimate with each other.  Openly.  Shameless displays of fornication between two consenting adults are commonplace in almost every conceivable forum, said to permanently connect the s’Ziscari to one another through the Force—which is why they usually project throughout the act.  In fact, they even have a gathering here at the palace capital, an ‘opening ceremony’ of sorts where people… perform.  It’s debauchery disguised as a holiday.”

You… for some reason, the fact that he stares so intently at you while he says it makes your reaction marginally subtler.  He gives away no emotion as he takes in how your mouth has formed a soft O shape, how a solemn understanding seems to flood through you.  Of course he’d have incredible trouble with something like this.  And somehow it’s only then that you fully forgive him for his previous mishaps and mistakes on this mission.  You understand now, you get it.

“Ah.  Okay.  And… and in exchange for the s’Ziscari’s assistance in the Clone Wars, they want us to… what, exactly?”  Maker, why is your throat so dry?

“They’ve presented the ultimatum of either walking away from the deal entirely or partaking from the privacy of these chambers,” he answers.  “Together.”

Okay, so your reaction is a bit more pronounced this time.

Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second, all the breath in your lungs whooshing out at once.  Maker, it’s like he punched you in the chest.  Muscle memory alone allows you to almost completely muffle the burst of shock that radiates through the Force, but your face is still a dead giveaway.

Is this… is this a trial?  Are you hallucinating?  Perhaps a vision, if it wasn’t so beyond ludicrous or had any basis in reality whatsoever.  How many vaguely similar scenarios have you imagined throughout the duration of Obi-Wan’s tutelage?  And yet never has one been so incredibly creative.  Or elaborate.

And then, the thought suddenly hits you.

Oh.  Oh, no, this is dangerous.

It’s one thing to harbor a dark, hidden crush on your Master for years, something you refuse to even let yourself think about most of the time.  It’s one thing to learn how to bury your needs deep down and refuse to let them see the light of day, to learn how to build a mental fortress around a dirty, terrible secret from your youth and guard it with a saber and matching ferocity.  This is the way of the Jedi.

It’s another thing entirely to have it offered to you on a silver platter.  To be given just a sample of Darkness, knowing you’ll never have anything close to it ever again.

***

Obi-Wan doesn’t think he’s studied your face this closely in his entire life.

It feels almost… unnatural, how meticulously he’s trying to read your expressions.  Outwardly, you don’t appear to be anything more than surprised, really.  Not horrified at the idea, just… stunned.

“What did you tell them?”  You eventually ask him.

“That I’d need to discuss it with the Council first,” Obi-Wan answers carefully, “and then that I’d need to discuss it with you.  And I’d make a decision by midnight, when the Ritual is to begin.”

And—there.  He sees it.  Your Force signature continues to radiate a gentle calmness outwards, unwavering and unbothered in its beautiful gradient of pale greens and chartreuses and golds, brilliantly contrasting with the cool blues and periwinkles of Obi-Wan’s own signature, but there’s a flash of… something in your eyes, and he sees it for maybe a split second before it’s gone completely.

What did he say?  What did he say?  He tries quickly to remember.  That he’d need to discuss it with the Council first, and then that he’d need to… 

Obi-Wan sighs, instantly realizing his mistake.  He both openly admitted and proved to valuing the opinion of the Council over yours.  He valued the collective opinion of a group of Jedi tens of thousands of light years away who put you in the middle of this ghastly situation more than your opinion.  You.  The only other person directly involved with this absolute shipwreck of a negotiation, even though you never asked to be.  The person whose opinion on such a delicate situation should’ve mattered the most.

Stars, s’Zerthia was right.  Has he always been this blind?

“Though… though now I realize that was incredibly dismissive of me.”  Obi-Wan’s head drops and his hand comes up to cover and rub at his eyes, feeling halfway stuck between amused at his endless list of mistakes and miserable at how they’ve affected you.  “I’ve done absolutely nothing right on this mission so far, young one.  And you’ve done absolutely nothing wrong.  The Queen of the s’Ziscari said you’re likely the best the Order has to offer and I’m very quickly beginning to see her point.”

You jerk back comically.  “She said that?”

He peeks an eye open at you through his fingers, watching you look at him like he’s grown two heads.  “…Yes?”

“And not as an insult to the rest of the Jedi?”

Obi-Wan drags his hand down his beard, trying to hold the corners of his mouth down, but it does nothing to stop the small smile that begins to peek through.  So he doesn’t try to hide it.  He just smiles at you, exasperated but so incredibly fond, shaking his head meaningfully.  You sit there and stare at him with your mouth hanging open, completely discombobulated, and Obi-Wan actually begins to chuckle quietly to himself, marveling at how your reaction to the praise practically doubles its sentiment.

You’re the only one who’s been able to make him truly laugh in the past two years.  You did it despite his wild discomfort concerning the unfortunate situation the two of you have found yourselves in.  You did it despite the foreign territory, the foreign government, the foreign planet, the foreign customs, and the foreign subject matter.  And you did it all entirely unprompted, despite everything he’s done to wrong you.

“The lady in the big chair?  The one with the fingernails?”  You lift your hand up and wiggle your fingers, both looking and sounding like a droid in need of a hard reboot.  “The fingernail lady, she said this?”

“Why is that so surprising to you?”  Obi-Wan asks with a gentle grin, leaning back to rest his shoulder blades against the bed, his muscles considerably less tense than they were even just two minutes ago.

“Because I don’t—?  People don’t—??”  You wave your hands around uselessly.  “I’m not used to… that.”

“To what?”  He prompts, still not removing his attention from your face.

“High praise?  I mean—I spent years being told that I was quite possibly the worst of the Jedi,”  you laugh awkwardly, and then you change the subject too quickly, like you’re attempting to fill the silence before it can be read into too much.  “Not to mention she looked positively delighted when I was dismissed.”

There it is again, he thinks, your eyes once more betraying your signature, tone, and countenance.  He only allows himself a beat to silently vow to himself to consciously voice his recognition of your dedication and achievements more often.  It’s just… with the right ratio of patience and prompting, he always thought you were such a brilliant student.  Obi-Wan is unable to recall the exact moment as a teacher he began to recognize any positive trait you exhibited in his presence as simply part of your hidden, untapped given character instead of a very purposeful mindset you had to actively work to embody.  Perhaps the true reason he’s so skeptical about s’Zerthia’s assertion that you care more for him than you let on is because he cannot possibly fathom why.  Not when it feels like he’s spent years by your side and is only somehow only just now seeing you.

“Ah, yes, well,” Obi-Wan says, easily glossing over his quiet moment of contemplation without arousing any suspicion, “the Queen is arguably obsessed with seeing how much torture a person can endure without actually having any physical pain inflicted upon them.  She gets bored, see.  Not many visitors to the Uncharted Regions.  She likes to play games with her guests whenever they do arrive.”

You quirk a brow at him.  “Then shouldn’t she have revelled in my suffering instead of defending me because of it?”

“I’d say she’s entirely capable of doing both, especially considering just how torturous it was for me to sit there and be reminded of all the many different ways this has been so terribly unfair to you,” he admits softly.  “She paid you the compliment as a direct commendation for enduring such mistreatment and still leaving the walls of her palace standing.”

Your expression goes blank again, and Maker, this is more difficult than he thought it’d be.  It’s a legitimate challenge to gauge your emotional state when you’ve so clearly mastered your control over your energy signature, to a degree of which Obi-Wan was almost entirely unaware before today.

“You’re sure this is the only way?”  You eventually ask.  “We either do this together or we go back empty-handed?  That’s it?  No other options?”

Obi-Wan takes exactly zero seconds to consider the implication behind his answer before confirming your assertion with a solemn nod.  “No other options.  I’m sorry, young one.”

Later, he’ll reason he refused to present the Queen’s first suggestion to you because he couldn’t agree to the terms, even if you could.  It would be of no use for you to share your bed with a s’Ziscari when he was incapable or unwilling to do the same.  Yes, that makes… logical sense, he supposes.  Right now he just has far too many things on his mind to contemplate it, and the sudden reminder of the situation he’s in causes his heart to start beating faster in his chest.

“Okay.  Well…” You look uncertain, your eyebrows furrowing slightly even as your energy continues to glow soft and undisturbed from the center of your being.  “Well, what are—what are your… concerns?  Is there anything I could do to make this easier for you?”

Because Obi-Wan has absolutely no clue how to answer that question, he just keeps quiet.  He supposes it shouldn’t be so surprising that the Uncharted Regions feature so much… uncharted territory.  He truly doesn’t know how to go about this; upon explanation of the situation, he had hoped you’d supply a firm no so that the burden of choice was taken away from him.  He doesn’t want to offend you, but at the same time, the more you’re not directly protesting against the idea, the faster his heart begins to pound in terror at the realization that… breaking a sacred vow he’s honored his entire life is quickly becoming a very likely probability.

And also… why?  Why are you able to be so… calm about this?  Why are you not panicking and struggling with this decision the same way he is?  When s’Zerthia first suggested you’ve already broken your oath of celibacy, Obi-Wan didn’t want to believe it, yet here you are—asking him if there’s anything you can do to make this easier for him when both of you should be having a crisis about this hypothetical.  Are virgins typically so considerate?  Is he just being over-dramatic about this?  Is this just a manifestation of the serene hue of your saber reaffirming itself?  Is this just your cool head prevailing when the one person you’ve spent years looking to for guidance is clearly on the verge of spiraling?

Why?  Why aren’t you protesting more?

“Are we actually going to do this?”  You ask after a moment, and Obi-Wan unintentionally cringes.  Good Maker above, he truly doesn’t mean to.  It has almost nothing to do with you—in fact, he can only assume you're genuinely trying your best to adapt to the unfortunate twist of events, and you’re actually managing to be somewhat successful where Obi-Wan is just hopelessly, miserably failing.  You must be just trying to maintain some sort of base foundation for his turbulent mental state, but—but then he sees another flash of emotion in your eyes at the way he flinches away from the question.

He opens his mouth to respond—to apologize, or… stars, something, but then you supply a quick reassurance instead.  “I won’t—I won’t take offense, if you need me to, you know,” you shrug, very much avoiding his gaze and your voice suddenly sounding incredibly small.  “I don’t know.  Not make any sounds?  Or hide my face?  Or… something?”

“You’re…”  Obi-Wan’s mind, previously struggling with far too many chaotic, rapid-fire thoughts, suddenly can’t seem to conjure a single one of them.  “You’re… serious?”

“It’s not a big deal—” you quickly tell him, “—either way, we don’t have to make it a big deal.  I mean, I wouldn’t want it to be… It doesn’t have to be… terrible for you, or anything.”

Maker, is that what you think?  That this isn’t a ‘big deal’?  He stares at you, the word you used resonating with him.  Terrible.  On one hand, of course it’s terrible—the whole thing is terrible, it’s something out of an ancient Jedi parable he was told as a youngling, about the sins of passion leading to the Dark Side.  On the other hand, he knows you can’t possibly mean it like that, and… you’re somehow managing to interpret this conflict all wrong.  Asking him if he needs you to hide your face?

He eventually shakes his head just slightly.  “I… No.  No, young one, I will not…” he clears his throat, “I will not… require such a thing.”

Though neither of you say anything for quite a long time after that, the loud knock on the door still feels like it’s interrupting a crucial moment.

You quickly call that it’s open, and Obi-Wan turns his head to see the door swing forward and two s’Ziscari in thin black robes, standing in the hallway.  A man and a woman.

His heart suddenly thunders against his ribcage and he scrambles to remember the hour.  It can’t be midnight yet, no, he needs more time—

The male s’Ziscari says something in his native tongue, and the woman calmly translates to Basic.  “Her Majesty the Queen formally requests your presence in the great hall for dinner and the start of the festivities.”

“Respectfully,” you nod at the guard while Obi-Wan struggles to regain himself, “if it pleases her Majesty, Master Kenobi and I would prefer to eat in our quarters tonight, as we are still discussing the nature of our potential involvement in the festivities.”

The woman repeats back your polite and much appreciated response to the guard, and he looks between you two, before clearing his throat and saying something that sounds remarkably similar to his first sentence.  The translator turns back to you both.  “Her Majesty formally and… firmly requests your presence in the great hall for dinner and the start of the festivities.”

When you don’t respond, Obi-Wan suddenly realizes you’re waiting for him to speak.

“Very well,” he eventually sighs, reminding himself that you both are still guests on this planet.  “We shall be there momentarily.”

Regardless of the language barrier, the guard appears to understand the sentiment of his response through the Force, not needing a translation.  He says something and then turns to leave as the woman walks into the room, revealing a black bundle of fabric from behind her back to drape along one of the side tables.  “Zashir is currently placing your ceremonial robes in your quarters, General Kenobi.  If there will be nothing else?”

Maker, his what?  Obi-Wan’s pulse stutters.  “I’m sure that—that won’t be necessary, my lady—”

“It will be,” she nods shortly.  “If there will be nothing else.”

And then she spins around and walks out without bothering to wait for an answer.  You blink at the closed door as Obi-Wan drops his head and pinches the bridge of his nose once more, so far beyond stressed concerning how tragically the events of this cursed mission are unfolding that he almost wants to laugh.

“Something tells me the s’Ziscari don’t like the Jedi too much,” you offer after a moment of silence.

“Nonsense,” he counters, lifting his head and sighing helplessly, apparently reverting to sarcasm when everything else he knows is all but ripped away from him.  “Wherever could you have gathered that?”

Obi-Wan eventually moves to struggle up to his feet—struggle, being the key word, if only to maintain some essence of behavioral uniformity throughout these past  few hours—when he suddenly feels your hand on his elbow.

He glances down at you, your soft features and gentle eyes blinking up at him in his half-standing position next to you.

“We don’t have to do this, you know,” you remind him quietly.  “Either way.  Not a big deal.”

It’s strange.  He knows your primary intent is to put his mind at ease, but everything you’ve been saying just seems… too disconnected.  Good people are dying as you speak—civilians, children, innocents, you both know this, and yet… 

Perhaps… perhaps Obi-Wan is simply just too emotional right now, too chaotic.  He’s certainly not being fair to you.  He realizes he’s responding negatively no matter how you’re attempting to go about reassuring him, and though he recognizes it, it’s more difficult than it’s ever been to reign in his mental state.

He clears his throat.  “The Queen has assured us that we are free to decline her offer and walk away at any time.  Her only stipulation is that we’ll have until midnight to… i-initiate the…”

Stars.  Initiate the what?  Is this a self-destruct sequence?  It may as well be, Obi-Wan thinks, but you nod your understanding and rise to your feet nonetheless, far more gracefully than he does.

“Well,” you sigh, walking over to the side table and pulling the black robe off of it, turning to face him and balling the silky fabric in your hands awkwardly.  “Uh.  I guess.  Fate of the galaxy awaits, and all.”

And then he sees you wince, your subtle call-back to the beginning of this mission landing flat and clearly not contrasting well with your previous assertion to him that this is no big deal, but… for some reason the mistake and subsequent display of self-consciousness makes Obi-Wan relax just marginally.  Even if you’re not necessarily panicking, at least you’re still clearly nervous, and that fact alone is more reassuring than anything anyone has said to him since this disaster first started.

“Yes,” he murmurs with a companionable, albeit hesitant smile, patting your shoulder just once before moving to leave.  “The… the fate of the galaxy.”

Stars.  He’s… well.

Fucked, isn’t he?

[phoenixyfriend]

Re; Ahsoka and Quinlan being the same age, now I'm picturing Ahsoka, Quinlan, and Rex eventually ending up in a weird sorta thruple where Quinlan comes in and out of the relationship but the door is kinda always open for him? And Rex spends a lot of mornings eyeing the tangle of orange and brown skin on the other side of the bed like he has no idea how he ended up here but he's (mostly) okay with that tbh

Context: Commander Buir in chronological order

YES okay so this is wild to me that people are invested in this but like half the time-travel fics with Ahsoka in the same age-group as Quinlan have me wondering if I should ship them. Let me just. Ho shit.

So, okay, I've explored a lot of possible dynamics but there's something really engaging about how Quinlan, trained as a Shadow before the Sith came back, could react to a War Padawan. Ahsoka isn't really infiltration material yet, she's very much a frontline fighter, but she's got a lot more experience with a kind of consistent dark atmosphere that most Jedi don't. They get exposed to plenty of dark stuff, sure, but not the kind of all-encompassing "this is my life for the last two years" thing that is usually reserved for the long-term field agents like Shadows and Watchmen.

The War Padawans, for all that they were supposed to be just normal Jedi Padawans, were living in the kind of consistently negative environment that's normally experienced by those Knighted Sentinels.

So Ahsoka, while still generally pretty young in these AUs, is a very odd kind of person to be around, because she's spunky and vivacious and snippy and affectionate and snarky and knows how to break every bone in your body from harrowing experience as the only thing standing between death and thousands of brothers.

And Quinlan, I imagine, really likes that about her. She gets it, and she's still an energetic and loving and trying to do her best to be a good person despite everything. He gravitates towards her and she... well, she's not blind. She can tell he's interested. And she's not upset about that.

ANYWAY, ONTO REX

So, Rex is... technically twelve. He hasn't exactly got a whole lot of experience with romance. He is also, up until the point of time-travel, legal property of the Senate and the Jedi Order, which means that Ahsoka, or at least her community, owns him. He was indoctrinated to serve her and that community. She also outranks him, for all that she usually lets him take the lead in the field due to experience. He's older than her physically and maturity-wise, but she's also had a grow-up-faster-than-you-should adolescence, and she has superpowers.

What I'm saying is, the power dynamic is fucked up.

(Unironically I spent hours last night realizing that it balances out a lot more than C*dywan does, which I'm censoring because by god do I not want discourse on this post. I like both ships, and don't want to argue about what's the most problematic. It's Star Wars. The only unproblematic ships are Bail/Breha and Owen/Beru.)

Here's the thing, though, because the main thing people seem to argue here is the age/maturity difference as a problem area:

The age difference in actual time is four years, which is smaller than the two main ships of the franchise (Han/Leia and Padme/Anakin, to be clear). The age difference in maturity is ??? We'll say that the clones started aging normally after they hit twenty, so the age difference in maturity is six years... which is still normal for SW ships.

(This is why I don't have any issues with the ship in a post-O66 context, once they've had a few years to move past the traumas and whatnot. The age stuff all evens out with time, they're a good team, and neither was grooming the other. It's not objectively any more problematic than most SW ships at that point, and I'm okay with that. They deserve to be happy if they want.)

But they get yanked away from all that structure of who owns what, who reports where, who has which rank, who's legally a person in the eyes of the Republic when they end up on Dagobah. Once they've registered when they are, the only remaining complications are:

He grew up in a cultlike environment and was indoctrinated to serve her (but has been replacing that indoctrination with genuine respect and affection for her as a person because they've worked together for two years).

She has superpowers (contextually not a big problem: we see several Force-Sensitive/Non-Sensitive ships that don't consider those powers a complicating element)

He's several years younger than her (canonically less of an issue than it could be: Cut got married and has kids) and has next to no experience with what a normal romance looks like except for hanging out on the edges of whatever the fuck his General has going on with the Senator

She's several years less mature than he is (...something of an issue)

So a lot of this is mostly okay. She feels weird about the fact that she's got more knowledge of romance and all that it entails. He feels weird about the fact that, despite her being older, he looks at her and sees someone that's still a little young, not quite a shiny. Except she is older than him, and he's seen her behead four people in a single move, and they've saved each other's lives more times than either of them can count anymore. He respects her, and the fact that she's babyfaced doesn't change the fact that, in terms of who they are as people and warriors, they're on a level playing field.

She still looks at him and mourns his lost childhood, and he still looks at her and takes a moment to see past the too-big eyes and adolescent proportions.

But they really, really care about each other, and maybe part of them is starting to recognize that there's a bit of a crush before they time-travel, but neither one wants to make a move. There's a lot of baggage on both sides, a lot of "but they're a child" and "but they're (literally vs functionally) below me in the chain of command, I can't take advantage of that" and all that fun stuff. It's the kind of situation where two people circle each other for ages without making a move, because actually making that move is terrifying on account of not knowing whether the other party knows they can say no, on top of the usual "what if it ruins our friendship?" thing.

What happens on Dagobah, though... is very tropey. They're sort of stranded until Ahsoka can fix the ship, and that takes time. The area is also very heavy with the Force, dense and heady with the energy it carries, and it's... actually really not great for Ahsoka. She keeps feeling like she's back on Mortis, and has nightmares from the trigger there, but also keeps hallucinating because she wasn't ready for the thickness of the energy (like Yoda) or still new enough to the Force that she couldn't feel how dense it all was (like Luke). She can't work on the engines as constantly as she'd like to get them out of there, and while Rex is a competent mechanic, he's not as skilled with it as the girl who jumped headfirst into lessons with Anakin.

Rex spends a lot of time holding Ahsoka and wiping her brow with a wet cloth while she's feverish and out of it. Yes we're going full Florence Nightingale romance here, let me have my fun.

They get the communications relay working earlier than the engine, find out the year is wrong, panic a bit. All is well. (It's not, but they're holding it together for now.)

Ahsoka keeps working on the engine when she's lucid. Rex keeps hunting up game and edible plants for them while she does. They cuddle at night, because it's not cold but it is empty of the people they care about, and they kind of want that reassurance of someone they trust and love at their back.

(Morai visits.)

(Daughter shows up in the nightmares, tells Ahsoka that age will not come for her beloved until the time is natural for it. The phrasing is dumb but she does manage to convey that the accelerated aging is no longer an issue, if it even was after they hit adulthood. Ahsoka is relieved.)

And, you know, emotions happen. She takes his hand while they're leaning up against each other. He kisses her forehead while she's having a bad spell. They cook together and tell jokes to keep sane and spar. They hug each other through nightmares and panic attacks. There is much blushing. There is much cuddling.

Once, they kiss.

They break apart, flushing and stammering and being very awkward about the whole thing, and make excuses to leave and panic about the fact that they!! Kissed!!!!!

A couple hours later they find each other again, and have a long and complicated discussion about why they like each other (war makes bedfellows, there's trust and affection and all that fun stuff) and why they're hesitant (age stuff, maturity stuff, prior indoctrination), and make the decision to take it slow. They cuddle, and kiss, and blush a lot because both of them are basically just dumb teens having their first real relationship.

They eventually leave the planet, make it to Coruscant, etc. It takes a bit for anyone except Obi-Wan to realize that something's changed between them. Most people didn't know them before, and Anakin's observation skills are currently at a very low ebb. But they sit together and hold hands, and flirt when they spar, and once or twice people find them kissing (both standard and Keldabe) in a corner while holding hands and then just smiling at each other like loons.

They end up rooming together because nobody has the heart to separate them after hearing about all the war stuff. Like yes attachment's bad, but these two do seem to understand loss of loved ones and recognize that they could lose each other at any time and death is natural and they won't lose their entire shit about it, and if even General Kenobi is anxious as hell about being separated from the people he fought side-by-side with for two years, then maybe it's just... really normal for those two to want each other's company, and everyone can just turn a blind eye to the romance happening.

They share a bed, but they only ever sleep in it. Like, there's some goodnight kisses and cuddles, but everything is very G-rated until they've had time to settle into being true equals instead of just the "well, I guess the power dynamics balance out? Maybe?" of before.

And just... yeah. Rex does not believe that he's in this good of a position whenever he has the time to think about it. He's got a girlfriend! A really pretty, smart, strong, skilled one! Who thinks he's a cool dude! How the fuck did a clone like him manage that? He wasn't even legally a person a year ago, how did he end up in bed with one of the most amazing people he's ever met? He spends multiple nights just staring at her while he tries to fall asleep, asking himself how he got here and just like... marveling at her. She's worth marveling at. He's in love and she's amazing and he has no idea how to handle it at all.

...yeah no I have a lot of feelings now.