#char: leia

[fangirlofallthefanthings]

It’s been seven years, but she will always be iconic.

Leia post in honor of Carrie Fisher’s passing which was 7 years ago today.

[swfichs]

FICHA HQSILENCE ILYA

Olá! Meu apelido é Leia, tenho vinte e um anos e uso os pronomes ela/dela. Essa é a minha primeira vez jogando RPG aqui no tumblr, embora eu tenha alguma experiência em outros lugarzinhos da internet. Peço a compreensão caso acabe cometendo algum erro bobo. Sou super receptiva a feedbacks; qualquer problema mande uma mensagem!

Bom, em relação aos gatilhos vou dizer que não tem nada muito específico que prejudique o meu bem-estar em algum grau. Dei uma olhada na lista e não tenho nenhum outro a acrescentar à ela. Como eu trabalho 5x2, posso garantir minha movimentação pelo RPG mais nos finais de semana. Sou uma pessoa ansiosa, entãooo é claro que vou acabar aparecendo antes da minha folga algumas vezes, sabe? ⸺ porém, é como eu disse: a movimentação com o compromisso que eu possa garantir de pé junto apenas durante sábado e domingo, mesmo.

⸺ 𝒊 𝒍 𝒚 𝒂 | ENTP-T

TRIP KILPATRICK? Não! É apenas ILYA NIKOLAEVICH ROZANOV, ele é filho de DIONÍSIO do chalé 12 e tem VINTE E SEIS ANOS. A TV Hefesto informa no guia de programação que ele está no NÍVEL III por estar no Acampamento há DEZ ANOS sabia? E se lá estiver certo, ILYA é bastante SOCIÁVEL mas também dizem que ele é ESQUENTADINHO. Mas você sabe como Hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência!

༄ ���｡˚ BIOGRAFIA: Ilya cresceu sozinho. O padrasto nunca foi o homem mais entusiasmado do mundo, menos ainda o mais falante. Com essa personalidade desagradável apenas os Deuses sabem qual o feitiço de amor que levou ele a conquistar o coração de uma mulher. Era corpulento, cheio de hábitos grosseiros e cheirava a peixe fresco todo final de semana. Nas suas memórias de infância, Ilya ouvia o padrasto suspirar alto, remexer na barba e levantar de onde se sentava à mesa. Dizia ser impossível para qualquer homem jantar na presença da prova viva da infidelidade de sua esposa, enquanto o garoto, acostumado ao rótulo como um grão de areia se acostuma a ser pisado pelos banhistas da praia, continuava a beliscar a comida.

Apesar de ter arrastado Ilya aos escândalos para o ringue de patinação, sua mãe, Nadezhda, possuía aquele tipo de doçura que a tornava um pouco melhor que outros adultos, mesmo com suas limitações egoístas. Ela esculpiu nele um talento que não era natural, mas fabricado, moldado e rigorosamente imposto. Outros diriam ser impossível acordar durante uma madrugada de inverno pronto para executar piruetas e saltos artísticos dignos de elogios. Nadezhda, porém, considerava isso essencial. Ela sempre foi facilmente seduzida pela arte e suas minúcias. Sempre desejou conhecer um pouco mais de cada questão; de entender as histórias por trás de cada sapatilha que as bailarinas da Ópera de Paris usavam no palco.

Em algum momento, nos intervalos entre os carinhos quando tudo ia bem, e os tapas no rosto quando nada saía como o esperado, a obsessão de sua mãe começou a se tornar a sua.

Diferente de semideuses que tiveram suas vidas destruídas ao descobrirem seus respectivos pais olimpianos, Ilya, que tinha a arte borbulhando até mesmo no sangue, vibrou todos os ossos do corpo com a ideia. Foi como tocar o interruptor e acender a luz evocando a sensação cálida do conforto. Semideus. A palavra iria atordoar suas próximas gerações se ele não detestasse a possibilidade de ter filhos. Dionísio era o senhor absoluto das festas e dos prazeres, protetor dos perdidos e dos hedonistas ⸺ tornando Rozanov a personificação do que acontece durante o delírio do vinho; ou o candidato perfeito para performances em que a elegância do corpo se torna o objeto dos desejos da plateia.

༄ ⋆｡˚ HEADCANONS:

Ilya descobriu a paternidade numa tarde de sábado, aos dezesseis anos, após ter saído do seu treino diário como um patinador quase-profissional. Embora manter uma rotina de exercícios rígida seja ótimo para ter excelentes resultados no gelo, nenhum manual de atletas havia especificado o encontro com harpias agressivas à porta como um efeito colateral de tanto treinamento. Se não fosse pelo centauro local que já vigiava os passos de Ilya Rozanov, talvez agora seu destino estivesse selado por um caixão enterrado a sete palmos da terra.

É claro que ele não sabia o que significava Olimpo, Semideus, ou Dionísio, antes de ser devidamente informado da sua nova situação pelos próprios campistas. Ao que parece, a mitologia grega levou a melhor no quesito se provar uma religião que, surpreendentemente, de fato existe ⸺ a mais chocante das revelações para o cérebro cético dele processar.

Demorou algumas semanas para que fosse reivindicado. Semanas em total silêncio e quietude, na companhia dos filhos de Hermes. Ele não sabe o porquê, mas suspeita que ter se embriagado e fechado os olhos para outras indiscrições durante uma das festas clandestinas tenha sido o momento decisivo para que descobrissem a qual Deus Ilya pertencia. A fachada de garotinho inocente não colaria por muito tempo, mesmo.

O recorte de um jornal da época da descoberta: “Como poderíamos esperar de um patinador russo criado em invernos longos e rigorosos, Ilya Rozanov vem fazendo sua marca no cenário mundial desde o primeiro campeonato júnior em que recebeu a medalha de ouro. A expectativa do público em relação a sua performance só fez aumentar ao longo do tempo, alavancando sua imagem com a conquista da prata nos Jogos de São Petersburgo. Embora Rozanov seja um dos nomes mais cotados para as próximas Olimpíadas, uma eventualidade médica desconhecida pela mídia afastou o atleta do gelo por um certo período no final do ano. Fontes anônimas afirmam que Ilya promete levar a melhor no Grand Prix ⸺ ou assim esperam os juízes.

PRESENTE: CÁLICE DAS HESPÉRIDES. Na verdade, é apenas um cálice comum, e Ilya quem tomou liberdades nomeando-o como se isso fosse a última invenção revolucionária do mercado. Feito de ouro imperial e talhado com símbolos inelegíveis, o cálice é robusto e reluzente, levando Ilya a considerar se seu pai, Dionísio, o teria dado como uma forma de provocação – ou como um insulto bastante claro. Fosse o quê fosse, ele anda batendo com o objeto na fuça dos inconvenientes que cruzam seu caminho. Ao menos é pesado o suficiente para induzir uma terrível dor de cabeça a quem sofrer o golpe.

༄ ⋆｡˚ PODERES:

REFLEXOS SOBRE HUMANOS + AGILIDADE.

EMBRIAGUEZ INVOLUNTÁRIA: Bom. O que mais poderia ser explicado além do próprio título? O dom de Rozanov é precisamente esse: embriagar os outros utilizando do contato físico pele com pele. Sim, é claro que o descontrole da habilidade possui o poder de causar desastres constrangedores. Ele já acabou na delegacia, acusado de trazer substâncias proibidas para a escola, enquanto seus colegas se recuperavam da tontura causada pela embriaguez. Ilya consegue desestabilizar uma pessoa – ou qualquer coisa ao alcance de sua mão – com um simples toque de dedos. Dizem as más línguas que as ressacas de vinho são horripilantes e até fatais, mas, até agora, não se encontrou nenhum cadáver escondido sob a cama do semideus.

ARMA: ADAGA. Ele carrega consigo uma lâmina curva, semelhante a uma foice, presa ao cinto de sua calça. Forjada com bronze celestial, essa peça não só auxilia o usuário durante o treinamento, como também serve para matar monstros ameaçadores e descascar algumas laranjas em dias ensolarados. A presença de um abridor de garrafas no punhal da adaga não deveria ser surpreendente para ninguém, mas há quem questione os costumes dos filhos de Dionísio.

Membro da EQUIPE DE ESGRIMA, VERMELHA.

PERMITE QUE A CENTRAL USE SEU PERSONAGEM PARA DESENVOLVER O PLOT? PERMITE QUE A CENTRAL USE SEU PERSONAGEM EM PLOT DROP, EVENTOS, TASK OU ATIVIDADES EXTRAS SEM AVISO PRÉVIO? É CLARO. Mi casa és su casa; fiquem à vontade para desenvolver ou incluir o Ilya onde mais acharem adequado. Me usem e abusem, por favor! <333

[snipsnipsnippy]

Now it's like snow at the beach Weird, but fuckin' beautiful

“What are you wearing?” 

When Leia stopped, laughing lightly into her hand, Han looked down confused, pinching his shirt away from his chest as he looked down at the singes on his collar and charred stains on his pants. “What’s wrong with it? I’m not showing off for anybody.” He shrugged as the fabric fell back into place. “What are you wearing?” He flashed that crooked grin as he stepped into her, reaching up to bat one of the gems dangling from her headpiece.

With a roll of her eyes, Leia reached up to his chest, properly adjusting his shirt into its place, her smile not leaving her just yet. “It came from the dinner party. It’s ceremonial. It was a gift from the royal family we were hosting.”

“You didn’t tell me there was a dinner. I might have cleaned up for it.” He reached for her hand to stop her from picking any further at his good work shirt. Sure, it didn’t look pretty, but it was one of the few with functioning buttons not melted together.

“I didn’t want anyone to tell me there was a dinner. If I was going to be bored, I know you would have been.” 

Leia was content to have her hand resting in his and their bodies stood together, but Han didn’t want to settle for such little contact. He kept her hand tucked in his against his chest and used his free arm to wrap around her waist and tug her fully toward him. 

He grinned as it earned him a quick gasp from her. “You’re going to stain this dress. You’ve been under these floorboards for hours, Han. You are covered in grease and soot.” Her tone was only half stern as she made no effort to leave his arms. 

This only encouraged Han to wrap his other arm around her, securely locking her against his chest. “Well then, I’m just going to be cleaning this dress later, won’t I?” He ducked down to kiss the smile creeping back up on her lips.

“You are still such a scoundrel.” She shook her head and slipped her arms around his neck. Her fingers toyed with the curls at his nape as she stared almost dreamily up at the man. They’d done this a hundred times before. It was more expected than not that when Leia returned from whatever debate she’d been having, Han would pop up from whatever location of the ship he was fixing that day to welcome her home. It wasn’t always that he was wearing the Falcon’s dirt on his chest, but when he was, it was his responsibility to clean the garments he’d soiled. It was their own little routine, however odd it looked. Her, in her dresses or suits perfectly pressed and spotless, and him, in his worn out work shirts smeared with his last job. “We must make one hell of a picture together now.”

Han laughed, sure that the welding goggles on his head didn’t match the crown on hers, but he couldn’t think of one thing he would change about them. Never could he have imagined he’d be standing there with the woman who seemed to have walked out of his dreams. If it was still one, he never wanted to wake up from it. “Yeah, we do. A beautiful one.”

Flying in a dream Stars by the pocketful You wanting me Tonight feels impossible

[exitiosae-arch]

@hopefulsun !!

A companion piece to this post

Luke Skywalker is many things. He is a pilot, a moisture farmer, a nephew, a brother, a rebellion commander and a Jedi Knight. These are the things that he knows, these are the things he claims. He bought them in blood and sweat and tears and hope. They are his.

Above all, Luke is a Skywalker.

Luke was born to a world of sand, on a world of slavery and subjugation. Luke was born under twin suns (twin, twin, half of a whole, something out there something missing). Luke was born and given to a family to raise named Lars. Lars is the name of moisture farmers. It is the name of harsh, desert people who tear back the very water the sands and heat take from them. It is the name of oasis. Lars is not a slave name.

Names mean things on Tatooine. Skywalker means things. It means pilot, mechanic, space-farer. It means the trickster in the night, it means metalworker. But above all, it means slave. Skywalker, Darklighter, Sandhoms, Simwaste—they are all slave names (they are the only thing the slavers cannot take from them).

Luke is born with the name Skywalker but not with what it means. He reaches with hungry hands for scraps of a history that should have always been his, for the sand in his bones and the sky in his eyes (that never should have been his, child, child, you are the joy of us—). But he was raised by Lars, and they do not know what to tell him. Uncle Owen will not speak of the man Luke got his name from, snarls and spits and turns away with a coldness that is better found in the desert night. But Luke has a slave’s name, chipped blood running through his veins; he is the culmination of everyone that came before him. He wants to know. He needs to know.

Tell me about them, he asks the desert. It is bright and it is burning and it is not kind. In the whip of sand around his feet, in whispers back; There was a woman, and there is such quiet tragedy in that, dripping blood and bruises and burned bones, though it is not the desert’s sorrow. She was brave.

Tell me about them, he asks the old, creaking Wookie in the slave quarters. She is old, the oldest slave on Tatooine, and she has been there for longer than some settlements. She knows every family, remembers every soul. There was a woman, she says after a long, long moment. She was kind.

There was a woman, Luke hears, in the spill of blood and of sunlight; in the fire and the sand and the solemn sunrise. She was steady; she was holy; she was a slave; she was free; she was wise.

Luke goes to his Uncle, and asks. Tell me about her. My grandmother. Uncle Owen looks down at him in the heat of the desert day, and sighs. Her name was Shmi…

Luke grew up knowing nothing else about his father other than he was a pilot. He was a spice trader. He did not come back. Luke grew up learning about a sandstorm-stone woman with gentle hands and oil beneath her fingernails.

Luke learned his history from desert and family and slaves (the lines between those last two are blurry and indistinct but still sometimes there). Luke is the first child born without shackles. He is the first child born free. He is the first child to be born with starlight in his blood that is allowed to run free, the first child who gets to walk the sky under his own power, to take his first steps and have them be nothing but his.

He is the first. He is not the only.

Leia is the First Free Daughter, grown tall and strong and hard on a world where she had water and food and love and life (Look at our daughter, the desert whispers. Look at how she has not suffered. Look at how she prospers.).

Leia is dark haired and dark-eyed and water-born. Her brow is heavy with crowns of gold and grief, a ruler of a dead planet (but not a dead people, never a dead people). She has many names. Princess Leia, she snarls. Senator Organa, she introduces, General Organa, she dares, steely-eyed. Leia, she says, and smiles.

She is never Skywalker. She is the politicians daughter, the Queen, the leader, the warrior with righteousness smeared across her teeth like blood bitten and ripped from the throats of the unsuspecting, the undeserving. She is a sea serpent, never a krayt dragon. Her spine is straight and tall and when Luke looks at her, a crown on her brow and fire in her eyes, staring down battles of politics he’ll never really get, he can’t imagine she was born for anything else.

I didn’t grow up like you, Luke, she says. I grew up on Alderaan. I’m from Alderaan.

I’m not from Tatooine, she doesn’t say, but Luke hears it anyway.

She does not want their name, and she doesn’t want to know of their father (the father he never knew, the father who’s name he bore, the father with shackle marks on his wrists and a lightsaber at his side, the son of the woman who loved him, Skywalker, Skywalker, Skywalker). But Luke does not push, does not ever push. She doesn’t want him, the slave-turned-Jedi or the Jedi-turned-Sith or the Sith-turned-savior; she doesn’t claim him. He would never ask her to. Their father has torn the holes in her barehanded that he left in Luke by leaving (rubble and ash and voices screaming right before they go silent, silent, and somehow that’s worse).

No, Luke doesn’t tell her.

But he tells her of a woman named Shmi, in the quiet of the night, curled up in the bunks of the Millenium Falcon, Aunt Beru falling falling falling whenever he closes his eyes. He whispers it in the forests of Yavin VI with the death knell of the Empire still in his ears and his father’s last breaths echoing in his chest. When they sit, collapsed in the remains of an Imperial Stronghold, it spills out of him to pool on the floor with the blood drip, drip, dripping from Leia’s shoulder wound.

All these pieces of them, he gives to her. Skywalker and slave and First Free and Free Born, mechanic and metalworker, skyfarer and pilot and all the things that have loved them. Leia listens, because she loves him and Luke cannot love her and not tell her. She tells him of Alderaan in return, sometimes. Of Breha and Bail and the way they used to braid her hair in the early morning light. She tells him of blue skies and things Luke did not grow up knowing. She tells him of the people who raised her.

What he doesn’t say is this: Leia Organa is a stolen child. Leia is a child of chipped blood and shackled wrists, of sand and wind and sun—and yet she knows the turn of tides and the fall of rain, the rise of mountains and the cover of trees. She knows the sea spray on her face and the break of waves against the rocks, the cold snows of winter. She does not know the whip of sandstorms. She does not know the twin suns, the language they wrote because nothing else was left for them, the Grandmothers and Grandfathers in the slave quarters that shielded them at every turn. She does not know how proud they are of her (child, child, you are the joy of us, look at how you prosper).

Leia says she is not a Skywalker. She has not lived a Skywalker’s life, has not lived the hardship of a Tatooine child, desert sand and twin suns. She grew up in a place far from her grandmother’s bones, in a place where water grew up in place of sand. She was taken away from that. She doesn’t know her history. She doesn’t know what is hers.

Luke doesn’t know how to tell her that she’s lived just as much of a slave’s legacy as he has.

But, Leia loves her adoptive parents. She loves her planet, her people, and Luke knows she will not take it the way he means it (he does not blame the Organas, but the people who love you cannot fill the places that never should have been empty. They cannot fill the beach with lake water and make an ocean). So he doesn’t tell her. She is his only family, the only one that could claim the name of Skywalker along with him, but he holds her hand in knee-deep water and lets her lean on him when Organa weighs on her shoulders. He calls her sister, twin only when no one can hear them (he can claim Leia or he can claim Skywalker, but not both. Not when the tall shadow of their father looms behind him). She is his family and he hers, but he listens to her tell him of things that are just hers, of a water-calm father and a snow-bright mother who raised her tall and strong and determined and royal. Because she is his sister, and he would do anything for her.

Even carry Skywalker on his own.

[lowkeyanakin]

thinking about togruta!anakin and how fucked up that would make things, canon-wise. like,,,,togrutas have unique markings (or so i like to believe) on their lekku, montrals and faces. even after getting burnt to a crisp, im guessing anakin's would still be somewhat recognizeable (or if they weren't you would still be able to tell that vader was not human)

people would be able to tell that's him under the mask, eventually, because what are the fucking chances? and it wouldn't be wise for him to completely cover them with armour because good luck with hearing and sensing stuff.

but, most importantly, luke and leia would know they're somewhat related because honestly,,,,two half human-half togruta young adults around the same age who happen to have identical face markings and very similar lekku/montrals? there arent many explanations lol

and luke, noticing swirls he knows like the back of his hand beneath vader's charred skin? he would know.

i'd totally love to expand on this one day, especially on the additional damage made by lava to anakin's nervous system contained in his montrals lololol

[buffshipper8490]

Rating Mature

Chapter Summary

Led by Finn, the oppressed citizens of Coruscant revolt against the First Order. In an effort to put an end to the rebellion before it spreads, Chancellor Hux deploys the fearsome bloodtroopers, his elite Red Army. Meanwhile, Poe, Chewie, and BB-8 return to the Skywalker— the Eclipse class Star Destroyer the Resistance stole from the Kuat Drive Yards— where Poe must convince a downtrodden Leia to set a course for Coruscant to help Finn and his People's Resistance fight...

Excerpt

We’re doing this, we’re really doing this, Finn thought as he crouched in an abandoned building. There were hundreds of the people from the underground with him here, placed all over the street, watching and waiting for the First Order to spring the trap they’d set for them. They from all over the galaxy, from every walk of life. Some humanoid and others decidedly not. They had come to Coruscant in hope of a better life and ended up living in the sewers. But they were all here for the same reason, the same cause. Everything he and Rose had talked about was coming true. This was the revolution, this "People's Resistance", and he was leading it. Well, maybe it wasn’t exactly what they’d talked about. Rose was supposed to be here with him. But there was no time for him to fall apart, not when he noticed movement down below. Two small figures emerged from a side street, swallowed up by the desolate urban landscape. As they got closer, Finn could make out a familiar golden protocol droid and a blue and silver astromech by his side. Finn sighed to himself. “Come on, Threepio. Not now.” On the ground, the two droids went on, completely unaware of the trap they were walking into.  Artoo beeped nervously. “I agree,” said Threepio, looking at the charred tank Finn and the rest of the People's Resistance members had placed at the far end, practically right in front of them. “This certainly isn’t the Coruscant I remember.” Just then, a shadow fell over them both. A towering AT-MT walker entered the from one end of the boulevard, dwarfing the droids as they watched it pass. Threepio’s photoreceptors glowed in the gloom. “Oh dear.” Finn held his breath. Everything hinged on this moment, and of course the exact moment when the First Order found their bait, Artoo and Threepio would somehow find their way directly into the thick of it. It was almost pathological. The walker paused directly beneath their hideout, and Finn exhaled. It was working. Even with the droids in the mix, they had it exactly where they wanted it. Now he just needed Threepio to stay quiet for once. The comm he’d stolen crackled to life, set to the same frequency as the walker pilots. <Any life forms?> asked the walker pilot. <Nope.> replied his co-pilot. Finn tensed. It was now or never.  “Now!” he shouted, his crew firing grappling guns into the building opposite. The lines criss-crossed over top the walker, the two pilots too busy focusing on the droids and the burned out tank to notice what was going on overhead. Maybe Leia had a point. You should never underestimate a droid. “On my mark.” Finn checked to make sure everyone was ready. “Three... two ... one… go!”

New fanfic link! Likes ❤️ and Reblogs 🔁 are much appreciated!

[amaralim]

. 𝑎𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑎 𝑙𝑖𝑚'𝑠 . 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐒

ps: clique abaixo e escolha um plot e uma inspo para seu char com a amara. nenhuma das opções possui gênero ou quantidade específica!

ps 2: leia sobre a maldição fake da amara AQUI

enemies to lovers / inimigos mortais que acabam desenvolvendo sentimentos inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

hate sex / se odeiam por completo e só se aturam na pegação inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

hate exes / seu char ainda se lembra da relação (ler sobre a maldição), mas um dos dois estragou tudo inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

forgotten exes / seu char não se lembra mais da relação (ler sobre a maldição). mara mantém distância inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

crew / a galera, os poucos amigos, o bando caótico da marinha inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

crush / seu char tem crush na mara e ela tenda de tudo pra elu desistir (ler sobre a maldição) inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

rivals / inimigos, rivais, nêmesis... o que for! se detestam REAL inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

ex friends / eram amigos, mas se magoaram ou mara os fez se esquecerem da relação (ler sobre a maldição) inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

fofoqueirers / não precisam nem se gostar! o que importa é a fofoca inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

parent issues / também não são amigos, mas partilham mágoas paternais inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

annoyinship / relação engraçada e zoeira meio "frenemies" onde se provocam inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo . inspo

[exitiosae-arch]

@hopefulsun !!

luke and leia are half of a whole. they’re two pieces perfectly cracked in half, because they’ll always be one entity but they can still survive without each other.

luke existed without his sister for only a few minutes. technically, he existed 19 years without her, and so did she. but i doubt they were ever truly without each other.

they were always there in the backs of each other’s minds. i’d imagine that when luke was upset about the way the others at anchorhead mocked him, only twelve and still so naive about so many things, leia felt it across the galaxy.

in the middle of her lessons, she felt sad. she could not explain why her mood subdued to anyone around her. she only felt small, teased, and lonely. the loneliness was not something new; even though her parents doted and she loved them more than anything else, she always felt lonely. like she was waiting quietly for someone to come back, to stay beside her in the during her lessons or at dinner time. but there was never anyone on alderaan who fit such a role.

i think that maybe some days luke felt even more restless than usual, a certain righteous indignation he was not used to feeling. he paces in front of the moisture vaporator he’s meant to be repairing, as his sister stands beside her father in the middle of the galactic senate, staring down the tyrant and system that held the galaxy hostage.

their moods affected one another. they worried for each other, missed each other, long before they knew who they were missing.

even apart, luke and leia were never really without each other.

[lovlorne]

9 PEOPLE I’D LIKE TO KNOW BETTER

last song:   leia - lollia, kal

favorite color:   pink if my room is any indicator

currently watching:   the cherry magic! thirty years of virginity can make you a wizard?! drama (look. look. look it's char inspo. and cute.)

spicy/savory/sweet:   savory for sure... i do not have a sweet tooth!!

relationship status:   i am a single parent to a cat and it will remain thus forever

current obsession:   the interest wheel is pulling me apart right now, but sailor moon!

tagged: @stillresolved my beloved, tagging: @kagoshou @bloodxhound @cutdeepshiver @lightdash @wariodemambo @amaeranthos @hexellent @goatfated @jukkumi !

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Leia Organa’s nanny

Leia Organa x reader

warnings:

a/n: i forgot abt lola!!! and this request!!!

prompt: anonymous: “Could I request headcanons from the Obi-Wan Kenobi series about being child!Princess Leia‘s babysitter, please? Thank you!”

your family had been trusted members of the Alderaanian Royal Guard for generations

you’d worked around the castle for some time before there was a delightful new addition to the royal family

and they asked you to care for her personally

“y/n, i think we have the perfect job for you” -bail

you met leia soon after she was born and thought she was the most beautiful girl to exist

“oh, i think i’m going to enjoy this job” -you

(it ended up being the most daunting thing you’d ever have to face)

she was not at all fussy as a baby, but as she grew up she got VERY sassy

and adventurous

“leia! no, please get down from there! your parents cannot know you climbed that high!” -you

“i can go higher!” -leia, climbing a tree

you just about had a heart attack

it only encouraged her

leia may be an adrenaline junkie, but she’s not opposed to a nice night in

you’ve gotten her to settle in with a good book and some homemade treats

breha and bail encourage you to teach her life skills, so she’s made a few meals and such on her own (you tried to help, she insists she can do it herself)

“do you like it?” -leia

“it’s…great…” -you, chewing charred cookies

she’s getting the hang of it

taking trips with the organa family

to which you get a small “break” from leia

not really, she loves to include you in family stuff

they all do, really

and you love the new sights across the galaxy, you never would have imagined these alone

“i think y/n would adore the skyline, don’t you?” -breha

“only one way to find out” -bail

they embraced you as family

you do leia’s hair a ton

“what would you like today?” -you

“braids” -leia

“what kind?” -you

“two pinned around my head” -leia

“i’ll do my best, dear” -you

you secretly taught leia her little attitude

always stand her ground and show kindness where it’s deserved

you have to gently wake her up, she’s been known to have some “active” dreams

you’ve been kicked and/or punched many mornings

“well, it was your own fault…sorry” -leia

she asks if you know anything of her birth parents

“unfortunately, i do not. i know you’d like answers, and maybe someday you’ll get them, but i would pry too hard if i were you” -you

“well, you aren’t me” -leia

“that’s true, miss attitude” -you

supervising when her cousins are around, since there seem to be plenty of disagreements between them

you can’t help but smirk at leia’s clapbacks

“now, come on, you guys. don’t be rude” -you

“who are you to tell me what to do, servant?” -cousin

“hey! don’t talk to them like that or i’ll make sure you go to bed bald!” -leia

“settle down—” -you

“not until he apologizes!” -leia

you have to remove leia from many of these situations

but she prefers alone time (and alone time with you) rather than those pesky social events

“i’d be so bored without you i think” -leia

“you do?” -you

“very much so” -leia

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @locke-writes // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @queen-destenie // @captainshazamerica // @ravenmoore14 // @gabile18 // @sweetjedi // @retvenkos // @swanimagines // @randomfandomimagine // @dontyousassmeok // @dindjarinsspouse // @zoeyserpentluck // @summersimmerus // @scarthefangirl // @sheridans-dynamos // @lady-violet // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @ruvaakke // @simp-legend // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @your-local-simp0 //

[too-lit-for-fanfic]

Desiderium: Whelve

Part IV of ???

Masterlist

Part V

* To bury something deep; to hide *

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Disclaimer - DNI if under the age of 18. This is a dark and mature story involving themes of torture, substance abuse, addiction, trauma, PTSD, injury detail

Word Count - 10k

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The silence that followed the wreck was more terrifying than when the ship had screamed its way through the forrest, leaving nothing but a torrent of destruction in its violent path towards the planet's surface. The sirens had stopped, the engines had ceased their screeching, and the skeleton of the ship itself heaved out a sigh as the metal collapsed inwards, nothing but a heap of scrap metal left behind. No one made a sound, no voices, no wildlife, no chirping sparrows or chittering critters, nothing but the creaking of the nearby trees, their branches straining under the weight of debris.

A T-shuttle swept overhead, jetting off into the distance with a mighty shrill, white plumes splitting the atmosphere.

Obi-wan heaves himself from the wreckage, a fist tightly clamped over Leia's wrist and dragging her behind him. His face stained grey concealed his sickly pallor, and his hair stood on end in any and all directions. The world spun on its axis, and he knelt, panting heavily, on a thick piece of sheet metal, blinking furiously to clear the smog and soot from his eyes. Just before the ship had crashed into the planet, he had managed to launch himself towards Leia, wrapping her in his arms and using what strength he had to harness the force to protect them from the metal around them. They had been thrown around and battered, with smoke-clogged throats and stammering hearts, but managed to emerge from the wreck largely unscathed. 

He felt dizzy, he felt sick, and if Leia wasn't watching him so intensely he would've heaved his guts out right then and there, such strenuous use of the force splitting his mind and body, his skull brooding a terrible ache.

"You're okay." He pants, sitting up straight on his knees, both hands falling on Leia's shoulders to pull her close, half to prop himself upright. "You're okay." She was ashen underneath the dirt and dust that caked her skin, and she still fiercely clutched onto his cream blanket, wide eyes wild and unblinking. She nods once, twice, tear tracks cleaning rivulets down her cheeks. Obi-wan smiles to himself, despite the landing her braids had stayed in. His head spins back towards the wreckage: her braids. Aeris.

He stands shakily, careful not to dislodge the metal he stood on, and finally takes in the scene before him. The ship lay in a staggering heap, nestled within a circumference of trees, all singed and broken and creaking dangerously with the wind. Their path through the tree-line was mockingly obvious, with a clear striking of charred and flattened foliage leading straight to the crash site. The engines had dislodged from the ship just before its landing, and lay, charred and smoking with fires flickering within, 10 foot away from the main chunk of metal on which Obi-wan stands. It had been their explosion that had sent the ship plummeting to the ground, and Obi-wan could clearly see scorch marks travelling up the body of the ship from its rear. The main body of the ship had faired far better, somewhat protected from the engines, and not taking the brunt of the landing like the cockpit, but still lay in disarray with cargo-boxes strewn about. 

He steps cautiously, slowly heading towards where the front of the ship should have been, Leia's hand tightly clasped within his own. 

"Aeris!" He calls, no hope in his chest as he surveys the front of the ship. It had taken the brunt of the landing, and lay in a shattered heap, caved in upon itself, console split in two. He swallows thickly, brushing soot from his face with his sleeve as his eyes search steadily. He didn't feel any sort of fondness for the girl, he could admit, but he would have to be some sort of monster to not worry about her fate, and which state he may find her in. He nearly flinches when he spots her maroon blanket in the wreck, cringing away from the red with a thickness coating his throat and tongue. "Aeris?" He calls again, guiding Leia away from the blanket. He breathes deeply, attempting to steady his heart. Another person he had had a hand in killing.

Glass glittered along the entire front of the wreckage, glinting at him from his vantage point atop a round curvature of metal, furrowed brows and darkened eyes travelling slowly across the scene. 

"Aeris!" Leia shouts next to him, hands cupped around her mouth. Somewhere in the distance, a tree falls, bellowing on its way. "Ben, Ben do you think-" Leia's voice is small, hands clenching around her blanket. 

"I'm going to look. You're going to stay here." He leans down, ready to drop the short distance into what he presumed would have been the doorway to the cockpit. 

"But-!"

"Leia, please." He grasps her shoulders firmly, halting her in place. "Stay here."

Leia frowns, wide glossy eyes staring back at him. He falls the distance to the cockpit, landing ungracefully and wincing at an agitated agony in his shoulder. Perhaps he hadn't gotten away completely unscathed. The cockpit was silent, with nothing but the shattering of glass beneath his feet and the groaning of the steelwork under him. "Aeris?" He calls again, ducking beneath a horribly disfigured arch of metal, using the force to ensure it wouldn't topple onto him. 

"Aeris!" He shouts to nothing in particular, slowly clambering over a piece of metal jutting up from the floor-sheet, eyes finally landing on the pilot's console. He swallows at the image, brows creasing and what little hope that had festered in his chest diminishing in an instant. It had been split, jagged with electricity spluttering and sparking from its spliced wires, straight-through on its left side. Not a single piece of glass remained in the viewport, and yet comically the pilot's seat looked untouched. 

Something shifts, and he freezes in place, hands outstretched at either of his sides, eyes wide and ears straining. Something jumps in his throat, but he doesn't dare swallow for fear of missing another noise.

"Aeris!" He feels the strain to his throat, but refuses to cough nor swallow, head tilting to the side and every muscle in his neck tense. 

A hiss, a pained pitiful thing, catches on the wind and nearly sweeps straight past him. His head snaps back towards the console and he steps cautiously, feet taking him as fast as he was able. He nearly jumps backwards when a gloved hand lands atop the console, a pale shaking fist, clawing at the dead-buttons, with a body slowly following its heaving efforts.

"Aeris!" He shouts again, his chest swelling and dread lifting, hurrying over to the shallow gap beneath the console, finding her wedged between the console and pilot-chair, and already clawing her way out from underneath it. It was a miracle.

"Obi-wan," She hisses tightly, both arms attempting to haul herself up from the floor, using the creaking console as support, with one leg propped up against the floor. Her hair hangs in wild locks around her head, thoroughly wind-swept and looking lightly singed, her face morphed into a carefully constructed neutral, despite the soot and dirt that marred it. 

Whatever she was about to say dies on her lips as his hands land on her shoulder and forearm, attempting to guide her steadily to her feet. "Are you okay? What happened?" He questions slowly, chest rising and falling rapidly despite his outward calmness. He surveys her hunched figure fully, and is amazed at the notable lack of blood. "Slow down, slow down." 

"'m fine." She grits out, and yet as soon as she straightens fully her legs buckle, falling sideways into the console with a pained gasp. The only thing preventing her from crashing into the floor being Obi-wan's strong grip on her forearm and hip.

"No, no you're not." Obi-wan tries to ease her back down into a sitting position, but she pushes his hands away in a lame attempt to be stubborn. He remains half-squatted, her attempt at remaining full height only barely being taller than his hunched figure. Blood drips from somewhere along her hairline as she leans forward, shaking hands grasping at his forearms as she tries to steady herself through shallow breaths. His eyes fall to her legs, attempting to spot the cause of her turmoil, but they look surprisingly steady for a woman whose hands he could feel shake against him. 

"Breathe." He instructs softly, looking up at her through her wild locks. Her eyes stare emptily at the floor between them, brows furrowed and lips parted, shallow rapid breaths falling from her lips. "Aeris, you need to breathe. Slowly, in and out." 

"I- I can't." She breathes again, shaking her head lamely and hands leaving his arms to rest back against the console. He attempts to place a hand against her spine, intending to help instruct her to regain control of her breathing as he had done for many comrades throughout the years, but as soon as his palm connects with her side, a horrible shriek catches in her throat, eyes clenching shut and nails digging into his arms as she folds into herself. It takes all of his strength to catch her and lower her gently to the steel floor. He crouches next to her, one hand on her shoulder, keeping her propped up against the console, and the other hovering cautiously, unsure where to touch. 

"Don't-" She gasps out, attempting to regain control despite a dwindling lack of oxygen reaching her lungs. "I just, need a minute." One of her hands comes up to rest against her forehead, trying to stem the blood that seemed to drip incessantly. "m fine."

"Aeris, trust me, you're going to pass out if you don't breathe. With me, just once; in." He breathes in deeply, watching as she attempts to do the same. Her fists clench atop her knees as she breathes in slowly, breath shaking unsteadily in her throat until she's grimacing and another groan catches in her throat, teeth clenched and head rocking forward to hide her face from view. Her fists twitch on her knees, shaking hands jerking involuntarily towards her torso. It is only then Obi-wan realises. 

"Show me." He commands, both hands in his lap as he kneels next to her, her blood-shot eyes snapping towards him, still hunched over herself and hands gripping at the material covering her thighs. "Your torso, let me see."

"I-" She pauses, chest rising and falling erratically, unable to think due to the flickering spasms that lit up her torso like fire with every pained breath. "It's fine, I just-"

"You can't breathe." Obi-wan states matter of factly, and yet she feels as if she is being scolded with the look he sends her. She hesitates, gasps leaving her chest in an attempt to calm her speeding heart. Her eyes close and brows furrow, fingers tentatively curling around the hem of her shirt. She tugs the material gently, wincing with every shift of fabric against tender skin. When she feels she has exposed most of the damage she pauses, eyes falling on Obi-wan's ashen features.

'That is not from the landing' is the first thing Obi-wan thinks, staring with a clenched jaw at the lashings of magenta and maroon that encircled her torso, her right side practically engulfed. He could see her ribs press painfully against the tender skin, and strips of flesh-coloured tape winding around her ribcage, pulling at the skin with every breath. His hand approaches hesitantly, thick fingertips barely grazing a particularly dark smattering before Aeris is hissing out through clenched teeth and twisting away from him. "They're broken, I'm sure of it."

"No, shit." She bites out between breaths. "I was thrown," another breath. "against the console."

"I can't do anything here." Obi-wan reasons calmly, not rising to her temper. "Come on, we have to get somewhere safe. Those shuttles could be back any minute." He offers her his right arm, the incredulous look she send him doing little to dissuade his desire to help. With a sigh and a grunt, she grabs ahold of his robed forearm, tentatively rising to her feet. She flinches away from his left hand that comes to rest flat and heavy against her left side. He notices her apprehension. "It'll hurt, but it'll help."

"I need my bag." She mutters, hazy eyes sweeping the cluttered cockpit as they shuffle back in the direction Obi-wan had come from. He pauses, quickly spotting the small satchel half buried beneath an indented wall. His left hand flies out, palm outstretched as the bag lands in his grasp. Aeris looks particularly unamused by the action, but takes her bag from him with a gracious nod. 

Slowly, agonisingly so, the pair shuffle amongst the wreckage, Aeris half-hunched and breathing through her teeth as Obi-wan attempts to find the least hazardous way back out of the wreckage.

"Ben!" Leia calls excitedly, hopping down from her vantage point. Her eyes immediately fall on the woman reluctantly in his grasp, who now stared in stunned disbelief at the soot-covered blanket-hugging girl in front of her. "Aeris!"

"You- you're both-" She promptly decides to close her mouth, her jaw swinging shut with a click and her brows furrowing further. She sways on the spot slightly, and Obi-wan's grip on her side tightens, pulling her minimally closer. She was stubborn, he knew, but she also looked a strong breeze away from collapsing into a boneless heap. He could practically see the cogs in her brain slowly churning, and knew it wouldn't be long until they ground to a sudden and irreversible halt. 

"Leia, take her bag. We need to get away from this ship and somewhere safe for the night."

The sky above the trio hung light and watery above their heads, baby blue with wisps of feather-light clouds dotted across the atmosphere, a tiny blinding sun creeping past its midpoint in the sky. Streams of pink and orange had begun to creep over the horizon, signally the end of a day.

Leia steps forward, Aeris reluctantly allowing her to pull the small satchel from her clenched fist, missing the opportunity she had to dig her nails into something. Leia quickly looks away, beginning to lead the two back out of the wreckage, uncomfortable with the amount of blood that spilled from Aeris' brow.

"How are you both alive?" She questions, blinking harshly and lamely wiping at the stream of blood that dripped steadily from her hairline.

"Luckier than most, for once." Obi-wan mutters, calling for Leia to turn right and head deeper into the thick of the forest. Hopefully, they would find a place to shelter for the night. Even more hopefully, they would last long enough to make it that far.

---

The trio had been walking for hours, Leia leading and swinging Aeris' bag around with little care in the world. Obi-wan and Aeris on the other hand, had had to fight and stagger against the foliage the entire way, the thick and intricate root systems that carpeted the forest floor making the journey longer and more laborious than it should have been. Tall, domineering trees hung high above their heads, with a thick layer of leaves and interwoven branches chocking out a majority of the sunlight, which barely managed to illuminate the forest floor in spotted and sparse clusters of light. Surprisingly, the trees were hollow inside after about a foot of bark, and many head great splits and fissures down their sides exposing their hollow innards. The air was cool and damp, and a comforting scent of moss and earth encapsulated the whole forest floor. 

Aeris felt physically sick, her brain feeling as though it was trying to squeeze its way out of the gash on her head. Each step she took sent the horizon flipping and rocking before her, and each foot-fall sent smoke billowing towards the campfire that had engulfed her ribcage, each rib creaking of its own accord as she struggled to stagger through the brush. Using what little consciousness she clung to, she felt her anger bubbling up against her throat. She had been doing fine, good even, the adrenaline from the chase making her forget completely about her injuries. Truthfully, she had felt better in those few fleeting moments that she had in days, and then she had gone head-first into the navigation console, her head absorbing most of the impact as she had been ungracefully thrown around the cockpit like a rag doll. She had managed to secure herself under the console, clinging to a jutting piece of metal for dear life, before her head had smacked against something and then she had awoken feeling like death. Not even able to breath without seeing spots dancing across her vision from the pain of it. Nothing had improved since then. 

To make matters worse, or rather, better for everyone else except her, no one else had so much as a scratch. She didn't want Leia or Obi-wan to be injured, definitely not Leia, but this must've been some sort of cruel joke. She was being mocked, the universe was mocking her, and a spotless Jedi practically carrying her through the forest was just the right method of mockery to have her wanting to rip her own throat out.

They had been travelling in quiet silence for hours, Aeris deciding to sacrifice her pride and swing her right arm across Obi-wan's broad shoulders instead of using his forearm as a crutch. Her fingers had grown numb from the effort, and she couldn't help but release a sigh as her weight shifted from her battered torso to the shoulders of the Jedi next to her. She didn't want his help, but it was becoming increasingly evident she needed it.

She hadn't been this close to someone in a vulnerable capacity in nearly 10 years, and she was thankful her brain struggled to cling to its anger, embracing the empty confusion and pain over whatever feelings of panic would have spiked if she could truly appreciate her situation. 

When Aeris' body finally collapsed, she couldn't even blame it on an upturned root or a particularly hard clump of grass. No, her legs had simply buckled and she had nearly gone slipping out of Obi-wan's grasp if he had been a moment slower. He winces at the tug on his shoulder as Aeris' weight suddenly falls against him, but her inability to shift back into some attempt at standing has his concern flaring.

"Aeris?" He questions sternly, hand squeezing tight around her wrist thrown over his right shoulder. "Aeris, what's wrong?" 

"I-" Oh, everything was spinning horrendously. She squeezes her eyes shut tight, but even the darkness behind her eyelids swims as she tilts to the side, pulling away from Obi-wan but him not allowing her to. "Everything's moving." She tries to explain, suddenly feeling the cool earth beneath her legs and warm hands pressing her back up against the rough bark of a tree. 

"My head." She finalises, as if that explained exactly what was wrong, both hands coming up in an attempt to stop her head from spinning. She blinks harshly, trying to clear the spots from her vision, the hazy figure of Obi-wan wobbling in front of her. 

"Yes, you're concussed. You're been slurring your words ever since I found you." Obi-wan sounds as if he's boredly reciting a ships manual, but Aeris is too busy trying not to throw up over them both to really listen to the tone he used. "We've made it further than I'd hoped, we'll stay here for the night." 

Leia's little face pops into her peripheral, and despite the pain in her side Aeris makes an effort to push her away, shoving a little too harshly. "Stay away, I'm gonna be sick." 

"You won't be sick, you're hardly green enough for that." Two hands firmly pull her own away from her face, and she flinches as two warm hands unexpectedly grasp either side of her face, eyes popping open in alarm. It took everything in her not to smack his hands away, but she could barely feel her own at the moment. "You'll be fine, but you need to slow down and listen."

The parental tone has her fingers twitching at her sides, heavily considering what would happen if she punched him square in the jaw. She'd probably get stabbed through by a lightsaber, she muses, but at least she'd have gone out swinging. 

"You feel so bad because you're still not breathing. I know it hurts but you have to breath. You're slowly starving yourself of oxygen, and your brain will eventually shut you down and force you to give it the oxygen it needs."

"You're full of shit."

"Perhaps, but I'm also correct." His hands pull away from her face, beckoning Leia over as he instructs. "Breathe with me, in." And despite her frustrations, she listens. Sucking a timid breath in through her lungs, and promptly pausing as soon as it got to a point where that fire licked against her lungs. "That's it, through the pain. In." If she hadn't been so furious, she would've been humiliated, but she listens, for no other reason than to get him to shut up. Her hands grip against the fabric covering her thighs as she continues to breath in, finally stopping when it became too unbearable. She repeats, once, twice, each breath shaky, but her vision stilling with every rise and fall of her chest. 

"Better?" Was that arrogance she heard? She couldn't bring herself to care as the world slowly stills around her, blinking rapidly as he finally settles into focus.

Aeris begins to nod, but promptly decides that is a bad idea as she physically feels her brain flop around her skull with the movement. 

"I can feel my brain."

"That's good, I was beginning to worry you didn't have one." She sees red, and if Obi-wan hadn't taken that moment to grasp both of her wrists firmly, he would've had a blaster shot straight through his head. "Your heart rates coming down and you already sound better. You were depriving yourself of oxygen. Keep breathing."

She hadn't even noticed she had stopped, and focussed back on the agonised rise and fall of her chest. Fists returning to their spot against her thighs as Obi-wan places her satchel between them. "Any cloth inside?"

"No."

"Needle and thread?"

"The front pocket." Aeris watches carefully as he unzips the front pocket, body tense as he sifts through its contents before pulling out a small sealed pack, a titanium needle glinting inside. She would've made some effort to push her bloody locks from her face, but she couldn't bring herself to unclench her fists from around her legs as she focusses on breathing.

Obi-wan materialises a small flask of water from within his robes, pouring the last few drops onto the corner of Leia's blanket with some before turning to Aeris with a quiet air of timidity, as if anticipating she would bite his hand off if he misplaced a single digit. He shuffles closer, minimally, knee pressing against her outer thigh. Aeris' jaw clenches as Obi-wan's hands approach, amber eyes staring at him intensely as the cloth finally dabbles along her cheek and chin. He makes an effort to clear all the blood from her features, slowly and steadily making his way to her hairline, where he parted the hair strands as best he could. 

It is only when she allows him this close that he notices the healing abrasion along her right cheek, the small stretch of glossy-skin indicating the tell-tale signs of a wound recently healed. Her left eye was the main attraction, with soft hues of blue and yellow encircling a blood-shot eye. He controls his gaze fervently, not daring to allow himself to linger too long. What had she been doing before she had come crashing down that alleyway?

He splits her parting when he finally reaches the cause of the problem, a pronounced gash travelling across the left side of her scalp, with a crusting layer of dried blood beginning to form. His movements are practiced and methodical, not betraying the squirming anxiety that nestled in the cavity of his chest, mind a million lightyears away in a life that had been destroyed a decade ago. Aeris remains silent as he works, even when he begins stitching the wound back together, rigid and unmoving with her eyes hazily surveying their surroundings. 

Sat on a particularly large upturned root only 5 steps away sits Leia, watching the interaction with a frown.

He beings packing the needle away, eyes falling from her features as he begins to talk. Already anticipating a fight. "Your ribs need tending to. Lay down so I can have a look."

"No." Is her immediate response, and Obi-wan looks up at her from beneath his auburn locks, not even raising his head to address her. "I couldn't see my head, I can see my ribs. I am more than capable of sorting them." She holds a shaking hand out, waiting for her bag expectantly. 

What she really wanted to say was 'Fuck off before I do or say something I'll regret. Stop staring at me with those eyes, stop talking in that tone, stop offering to help, stop making me remember, you are cruel. Stop, stop, stop.'

With a sigh, Obi-wan hands the satchel back, and she immediately pulls her helmet from it, all of her medical supplies tumbling out from the helmet and back into the satchel. He watches as she doesn't even regard a bacta-patch, placing it down delicately beside her in favour for a stim. She tugs her sleeve up, but just before she can plunge the syringe into her wrist Obi-wan's hands fly out to stop her, gripping her fist tightly. 

She looks to him, startled, stim hovering mere inches from her pale wrist. "What? You want me to walk around unmedicated?"

"I want you to be able to walk." He draws her fist gripping the syringe away from her wrist, holding it steady in the air between them. "This won't do anything." 

I have been managing. She curses him inside her own head, fingers flexing around the syringe as she eyes him warily, assessing how best to argue this. She had been running around on god-knows how many broken ribs for the last two days, and now he was going to lecture her on her capabilities? She glowers at him from her position collapsed agains the trunk of a tree, a muscle in her jaw ticking. Using a bacta-patch was out of the question, no way would she allow herself to waste one of those on a matter as insignificant as pain.

"We're not using anything more valuable than a stim unless we have to." She states fiercely, attempting to tug her wrist free. Obi-wan is bigger and stronger, and her jostled muscles and inability to breath fully has her strength diminished. "I have all night to heal."

"You won't heal." Obi-wan allows her to struggle against his hold on her fist, watching with contemplative eyes. "Stims are for small injuries, they're essentially a glorified adrenaline boost. Half of its 'healing' will go to your head, which doesn't need it, and your ribs will still be broken." 

"I know how they fucking work."

"Then you know you'd only be wasting one, and you would be just as slow and pained tomorrow." 

Oh, how she hated the look he was giving her, blood broiling within her veins as she glowers back; why did he care? She could deal with the pain, she could deal with the pleasant numbness that coated her brain, she did not want to be able to think, and if drugs were out of the question on this journey, pain would do. 

"I will be good tomorrow."

"I've been practically dragging you for the last two hours of our journey, you really consider that good progress? You think you will fair much better after sleeping on a forest floor?" Obi-wan comments as if the woman he was trying to reason with had any capacity to reason, even on a good day. His temper was flaring, but he remained as calm as he could manage, clearly there was something more to her reluctance. 

"I don't need your help." And suddenly, the issue wasn't just the bacta-patches. I don't want it, not from you. 

"Yes, you do." 

She stares at him, grip tightening on the stim as his eyes bore back into her own, some of his spark returning. You couldn't save us a decade ago - her memories swirl with the anger that fogged her mind, of the bodies that littered the streets, piled high above her head; the scar at the back of her neck itches - I certainly don't need a Jedi now. 

Obi-wan watches the woman before him, gaze flitting about her face in some effort to understand what the problem was. She needed to be healed, and she was evidently in a great deal of pain - she had stopped breathing properly, again - and yet she continued to fight against him, wasting a resource for the sake of another, refusing help despite the fact she could barely hold her own head up. Outwardly she looked relatively okay, wild hair and dirt-crusted clothes aside, but he could sense her exhaustion radiating from the grip he had against her. 

"We need your help to get off this planet, and you won't be any use like this."

She hesitates, grip around the stim beginning to fall lax, the muscles in her arm screaming at her to let it go, to rest, to just accept the help. She breathes deeply, once, blinking away the dots that had begun to creep back into her vision, eyes falling down Obi-wan's frame and back up again. All she could see before her was the Jedi Order, and all her memories chanted back at her; betrayal, disappointed, abandoned, and then debt, debt, debt.

"Please." Leia's quiet voice breaks the tense silence, Aeris' dark gaze falling to the girl, who now stood wringing her hands together. 

Obi-wan notices the shift in her eyes, from frantic fury to melancholic acceptance, gingerly pulling the stim from her grasp and allowing her arms to fall back against her sides. "Jacket off," He instructs, placing the satchel next to him. "and lay down."

"Leia," He doesn't watch Aeris shrug off her jacket - placing it in a crumpled heap as she gingerly lays down against the cool dirt floor, grimacing all the while - focussing instead on Leia to offer her some privacy. "can you please gather some little twigs and sticks and stack them somewhere nearby? Stay where I can see you."

He glances down at Aeris, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The barely concealed fury on her face was almost laughable, but the way every muscle in her body seemed wound tight and ready to lurch at the crunch of a leaf had him quickly remembering the seriousness of the situation. He repositions, crouching next to her on one knee, both hands hovering lightly over the shirt that hid the damage from view. With a deep breath, he curls his fingers around the bottom of her grey shirt, careful not to graze her skin as he does. 

"I'm going to lift this, slowly." He narrates as he slowly lifts the garment higher, approaching her like a wounded animal - one unannounced move, and she would attack and he would be her unfortunate prey. When his knuckles brush against the binding on her chest, he places the shirt as gently and respectfully as he can against her chest, pulling his hands away quickly and resting one outstretched hand atop his knee. 

"Oh my-" A hand comes up to cover his mouth, rubbing against his beard. The sight before him was far worse than he had expected, only catching a quick and rather distracted glimpse at her torso earlier. She was a trim and athletic woman, and that meant her ribs had little padding, and now pushed against her battered skin with every small breath, the ridges between them overtly visible even despite the discolouration. Dark and hideous hues of maroon and magenta splattered unceremoniously along her hips and stomach, concentrated clusters winding up either of her sides and carrying on underneath the binding on her chest and around towards her spine. His bright eyes follow a particularly worrisome lashing of near-black snaking up and around her right side, encircling a worrying sight indeed. The thing that made his face ashen and his stomach churn, as well as a simmering of guilt to wallow in his stomach, was the very prominent bone protruding from under her skin just beneath her breast binding, the tip of the jagged indent of flesh encrusted in a layer of dried blood. 

He swings his jaw shut as soon as he realises he had been somewhat gawking at the sight, carefully schooling his expression into a blank slate, gaze not lifting from the wound as he continues. "If you'd have told me about this I wouldn't have marched us along for hours. Aeris, this is bad."

The bone wasn't actively protruding from her flesh, which was just about the only positive he could spin on this situation. His hands hover hesitantly, drawing back to his chest as he thinks. Not for one minute did he believe that these bruises were from the past two days they had known each other, and would wager a fair amount that these broken ribs had existed before their time together too, but he could say for certain that that was an ill-fated amalgamation of a broken rib and an unfortunate crash landing. He had been dragging her along for hours, aware of her pain and convinced her sluggishness had just been a side-effect of the concussion. He sucks a breath between his teeth, pit in his stomach growing with every second he stared at the wound. "You should have told me."

His gaze finally lifts to her face, her neck straining to lift her head high enough to see the cause of his concern. She stares down at the wound silently, face once again indistinguishable aside from the knitting of her brows. She rests it back against the floor silently, staring at the canopy several hundred feet above their heads. 

"I told you I couldn't breathe."

"That's normal with a few broken ribs, but this?" He stares back as her chest rises again, slowly, and this time he can physically see the way her ribcage clenches in pain as she forces her lungs to fill with air.

"I didn't know. I didn't have chance to see them before you dragged me away from the crash." Obi-wan gingerly pulls the flesh-coloured medical tape from her torso, the ease with which it pulled away from the skin indicating it had been in place quite some time.

The pair sit for several moments, nothing but the sound of Leia's quiet humming as she prowls the area looking for sticks breaking the tense silence. A hand continues to rub at Obi-wan's beard as he thinks, calling back on all of his medical training from his days as a Jedi soldier. Aeris continues to state into the middle-distance, deciding it was better to not think about the bone sticking out of her side and allow Obi-wan to handle this one; he had been so persistent to help, he could figure this out. She swallows thickly, feeling somewhat justified in her reaction to the pain she had been feeling the past several hours. It actually wasn't too bad when her weight was completely relieved from her torso, and she has to blink harshly to prevent her eyes from drooping, vision blurring in and out of focus.

Obi-wan shifts, kneeling fully and pulling his sleeves up to his elbows. Both of his hands hands hovering over her stomach, brows furrowed in concentration, and lips tugging into a light frown. "I can move them back into place, all of them." He states, watching Aeris' eyes follow his hand movements. "I won't touch you but the force-"

"I know," she interrupts, wincing as she props herself up on her elbows, not liking the way he loomed above her. "I've seen this before." 

He decides to question her about that later. "Then you know this will hurt."

"I know."

He watches as she reaches behind herself, pulling her discarded jacket towards her and wringing a sleeve between her fists tightly. She lays back silently, taking one final deep breath before clenching the material between her teeth.

He would start with the worst first, both hands hovering mere centimetres above the protruding rib. Her chest ceases all movement as she closes her eyes, hands wrapping around roots blanketing the floor, forearms flexing as she braces herself. He allows the force to flow through him in a way he hadn't in a very long time, eyes staring unwavering as he feels the curve of her bones beneath his fingertips, wrapping around it gently, breathing out deeply from his parted lips. 

"Do try to relax."

A sickening crack reverberates through the force as the bone snaps back into place, an ear-splitting shriek following. Aeris lurches, feet nearly kicking her away from the man knelt over her, jerking involuntarily, the only thing keeping her in place the vice-like grip she had around roots that she nearly tore from the floor. Her face crumples in pain as her torso twists away from his hovering hands, every muscle rigid as she struggles to re-compose her dignity. Her vision immediately tips towards the darkness ebbing at her peripheral, and she has to concentrate greatly to stop herself from succumbing to it wilfully.

"Ben?!" Leia shouts from behind him, and he calls back dishonestly.

"She's fine!" His eyes don't lift from Aeris' tense torso, every muscle straining beneath her skin as she breathes shallowly. "Stay over there for a few minutes!" His hands hover over the next rib, sensing its slightly crooked positioning and channeling the force to carefully wind around his next task. "Brilliant." He comments to the air, unsure if he was talking to the woman glaring up at him from the floor, or to himself for using the force again after so long. "Don't forget to breathe." 

The next snaps back into place with a far less theatrical crack than before, but he can still feel the twisting of muscle and the spiking white-hot heat of nerves travelling up through the force, the pain not quite reaching him, but making itself known none-the-less. An aborted whine catches in Aeris' throat, high-pitched and breaking, feet now braced against the floor and head twisted to the side. Her torso flinches away from him, but she largely remains in place, a chocked 'fuck!' forcing its way around her gag as Obi-wan moves his hands lower. 

The next two ribs jolt into place much like the second, the last being on her left side, and Obi-wan pulls his hands away quickly, resting them against his thighs as he breathes steadily, sweat beading along his forehead and gathering at his nape. Aeris sinks into the floor beneath her, lazily pulling her jacket from her mouth and flexing her fingers at her sides, aching from the grip they had had against the earth.

She groans before she can stop herself, having to take a deep breath after so long choking around a gag. She grimaces up at the canopy overhead, and rubs at her involuntarily glossy eyes.

"Not so bad, was it?"

Obi-wan was dancing on dangerously thin ice, and Aeris sends him a glare to emulate how close he was to falling through it. He smiles regardless, a mocking self-determined up-twitching of the lip which has the corners of his eyes creasing. He gently picks up the bacta-patch he had rested on top of her satchel, smoothing out the creases across his lap. Aeris had been too distracted looking down at her considerably flatter and less nausea-inducing ribcage, but when her eyes finally land on the patch being prepared, her brows furrow.

"Put it away." She all but demands, propping herself up on her elbows. Her lips twist in some semblance of a grimace, but she's good at hiding her pain, playing it off as her biting at a dry patch on her lip. "No need to waste it."

Obi-wan stares at her disbelievingly, continuing to run his fingers over the bacta-patch. "You can't be serious." Aeris did not look like the kind of woman to joke. "Your ribs are still broken, they're just finally in the right place, no longer sticking out of your skin." 

"Yes, and now they're where they're supposed to be, they'll be far better in the morning."

Obi-wan takes a deep breath. "We're going in circles." Aeris watches him closely, amber eyes unrelenting. "You need this, the puncture you rib left in your skin will get infected in this kind of climate." Realising the woman before him was not so easily swayed by the reality of her morality, he quickly changes approaches. "We need you to help us get home, so that means we need you fit and healthy. That means using at least one bacta-patch. Soldiers were usually given at least two for this kind of injury."

She stares at the object in Obi-wan's hands as if she were being prepositioned to throw away the most priceless diamond in the galaxy. Truthfully, using it would make her life over the next few days so much easier, filled with so much less pain, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She stares at the patch, thinking of all the times she had been caught without medical supplies, of all the times she had watched someone die uselessly, hopelessly, incapable of being able to do anything other than watch, or end their suffering quicker. But, a small part of her mind nagged, would not using it just lead to two more dead bodies later down the line, too slow to protect them. 

With a deep breath, she lies back onto the ground, one arm behind her head. "Be quick, it's getting dark."

Obi-wan sets to work quickly, one hand peeling the patch from its sterile wrapping and the other delicately attempting to pull the edges of the wound together. Aeris inhales sharply as he pinches the sensitive skin, but the cooling effect of the bacta-patch being smoothed across it quickly makes up for the discomfort. After ensuring the edges had sealed tightly against her skin, Obi-wan shuffles back, wiping his hands on his robe-like jacket as he stands, fighting the urge to assist Aeris as she stands too. She turns from him as she tugs her top back down, reached for her jacket, and it's then that he catches a glimpse of the bruising that dotted along her back and spine. He catches one that looks unmistakably like a boot imprint, and he has a horrible feeling that if those on her front weren't so layered and swollen, or those on her arms so faint, the origin would be evidently the same. 

He clears his throat as she turns back to him, shrugging her jacket back on despite the temperature. 

"Leia, have you-?"

"I've got the firewood!" Leia's chipper voice calls, the young girl bounding up next to him with several clumps of wood in her hands. "I've put the pile over there!"

"Brilliant, thank you."

"I wouldn't recommend lighting the fire out here." Aeris calls as the three head to the sizeable stack of firewood placed against the bark of a nearby tree. "We don't know what's in these woods, don't want to bring attention to ourselves." 

Obi-wan nods, helping Leia gather the pile from the floor as Aeris begins heading off towards a nearby tree. 

"Are you sure lighting it inside a tree won't smoke ourselves out?"

"Positive." Aeris leads the way, standing at the split on the outside of the tree's bark, too wide for her to touch with either of her arms and taller than three times her height. She regards the barely-illuminated hollow centre, sparking a lighter from a jacket pocket and holding it up as she walks in. "They go fifty feet high, the smoke has a long way to travel."

"Inside it is." 

The temperature immediately dropped as soon as the trio walk into the heart of the tree, the ground soft and slightly damp beneath their feet. Aeris holds her lighter high above her head, a warm orange glow cast up the innards of the tree before fizzling out into a cloaking darkness shrouding high above their heads. It was eerily silent, the sounds of nature outside muffled by the trees thick bark, and the air lay damp and cool against their skin. 

After thoroughly checking that the inside of the tree was secure apart from the main entrance, the three quickly set up a camp fire in its centre, huddling close to the flames as the temperature continues to drop as night encroaches.

Aeris sits, cross-legged and arms wrapped around herself, on the side of the campfire furthest from the entrance with Obi-wan and Leia sat slightly to her left, the young girl happily chatting away.

The young girl had taken it upon herself to fill the silence that had settled, and had been rattling off about all the facts she knew about trees and nature for the near past hour. Aeris had considered going and finding her own tree to camp in, but the thought of standing and walking anywhere had her resolutely rooted in place, staring blankly into the fire and waiting for sleep to take her.

She could never have children.

"What are we going to do about food?" Leia finally pipes something useful, and Aeris' eyes slide slowly from the fire to Obi-wan as she waits to see how he would handle this.

"It's too late in the day to go hunting." He explains slowly, looking as tired as Aeris felt. "We'll have to go without tonight, but first thing tomorrow we'll find something to eat, and water." 

Leia huffs, falling silent for once as she also stares into the fire. Her eyes suddenly flick to Aeris' bag.

"You didn't pack anything we could eat?"

Aeris takes a deep breath at the chlld's sass, completely missing Obi-wan's surprised little smirk.

"If I did I would have told you by now."

"Nothing at all?"

Aeris shuffles, her ribs beginning to ache, laying down onto her side and using her satchel as a pillow as she edges closer to the fire. "I packed two sachets of powder," she comments from the floor. "but we need water to make them edible. If you want to go and snort some dehydrated bread be my guest."

She probably shouldn't have said that, she doesn't even look to Obi-wan to gage his reaction. 

"Snort? What does that mean?" 

She tunes out Obi-wan's heavy sigh and attempt to steer the conversation somewhere else, letting the pair talk amongst themselves as she ponders silently. She doesn't rejoin the conversation, and is so utterly out of it that she doesn't even realise when the conversation dies out as Leia falls asleep against Obi-wan's shoulder. 

She shuffles constantly, the bacta-patch cool and uncomfortable against her skin, and the aches and pains from being thrown around the hull of a crashing ship doing little to help. It would be a long and tiring night, and she really wished she would have just ignored her communicator and fallen back to sleep in the hull of her ship. She had learnt her lesson: not more charity for others.

She bolts upright upon hearing a snapping twig at the tree's entrance, heart jack-hammering in her chest as her eyes search for the source in the darkness. A little fluorescent lizard scuttles past, and she sighs at her own nerves.

"I thought you were asleep." Obi-wan's soft voice startles her again, and her head whips around just as quick in his direction. 

"I'm keeping watch." She grunts, pulling herself into a cross-legged position. 

"I think you should sleep. I'll keep watch." 

Oh she really hated that tone he used when he knew he was right. 

"I'm doing fine. I can't sleep anyway, the ground's too uncomfortable. Better one of us sleeps than neither of us." 

"I'm keeping watch." He re-states, matter-of-factly. "You can join me if you want, but you shouldn't."

Silence envelopes the camp once again, with nothing but the popping of the campfire and the rustling of leave outside filling the empty air. It was dark, incredibly so, and the entrance to the tree resembles a cave entrance more than anything else. Aeris was incredibly glad there were no other fissures in the trunk, the wide gaping chasm setting her nerves on edge far greater than she cares to admit. 

Her body longed for sleep, but she couldn't, not yet, not here, not while they were so vulnerable. 

Instinctively, she reaches down to her thighs, pulling her two blasters out of their sheaths and resting them in her lap. She hadn't checked them since the crash, and she sighs when she feels twisted metal in her right hand.

The left blaster looked relatively unharmed, a couple dents in its handle but nothing else, but the right one practically fell apart as soon as she pulled it from her sheath. She grimaces as the nozzle falls away from the main body, holding both pieces in her hand and frowning at the exposed wiring. Twisting it in her grip, something falls lose and the handle breaks again. With a sigh and a curse she drops the three pieces off to her side, she only had one blaster left, with one shot left in its charge. 

"Are they both broken?" Obi-wan's voice echoes again, this time not startling her as she had felt his eyes on her the entire time.

"Just one." She hums, sheathing the remaining blaster after thoroughly checking its nozzle. "I've got one shot left. Let's hope there's no-one else in this forest."

Silence, again. Why wasn't Obi-wan sleeping? If she knocked him out would he be angry at her when he woke up? Probably.

"How are you feeling?" Obi-wan seems to have surprised even himself with the question, eyes glinting in the firelight as he looks over at her.

Aeris diverts her gaze back to the fire, watching a log begin to collapse into itself. "Fine. Better. No need to hover like a mother." 

Her attempted hostility doesn't dissuade the auburn-haired man; they had all night, with nothing to do and nowhere to go, it was the perfect opportunity to finally get some answers.

"Are you going to tell me how you got those bruises?"

Aeris bristles at the question, shoulders tightening slightly, invisible in the shadows that cloaked her. She continues staring into the fire.

"What do you mean? Did you not see the crash you dragged me out of?"

"You were already wearing medical tape, and the bruising was far too dark to have been caused by the landing. I'm not a fool." 

"I have an intense job, the medical tape is for support. Don't tell me you've never wrapped to support old wounds before."

Obi-wan continues to stare, jaw clicking. Perhaps he should have just gone to bed if she was going to be so evasive. He needed a different approach.

"Okay, I believe you." That has her eyes snapping up from the fire towards him, brows furrowed lightly. "For arguments sake, let's pretend I believe that it was the landing that broke your ribs, and didn't just aggravate them." The breeze picks up outside, and the tree creaks loudly, a loud groan reverberating through the still air. "Where did the bruising come from, on your arms and face?"

"The same place the broken ribs came from."

Aeris doesn't miss a beat, and Obi-wan sighs in frustration.

"You are making it exceedingly difficult to trust you."

"You don't need to trust me, you just need to do what I say and stay alive until we get to the resistance on Mapuzo."

"I would have a much easier time following your orders if I trusted you. If you explained the boot prints covering your arms and back, if you told me whoever went after you won't come after me or my daughter."

"This coming from the man with Darth Vader on his tail." Aeris scoffs to herself. "You have no danger from being in my presence, but it seems that I am in the most dangerous spot in the galaxy stood by your side." Her voice takes a steely edge, tight and controlled. "I've saved your life, twice. I've already proven you can trust me. It is you who has attracted the attention of the Empire, and you insist on keeping me in the dark about why. I saw your face in the cargo hold, you know exactly why you're in this mess, why you need my help to get back into hiding. You don't need to trust me, and I don't need to trust you. We both have our reasons, and we can both agree we all need to remain alive, and doing as I tell you to is exactly how that is going to remain true." 

Obi Wan didn't really have a response, so he instead doubles down. "So you can assure me whoever did that to you won't do the same to us?"

"Not unless you suddenly become a bounty hunter. Until then, I think your priorities should remain with the saber-wielding maniac calling for your head." 

Silence, again. Obi-wan had come to enjoy silence over his many years in solitude, but the silence that seemed to always fill the empty space between him and Aeris was somehow unbearable. It made him anxious and distressed, his muscles tense and his palms sweating as he sensed Aeris' steady presence beside him. Perhaps it was because the silence between them was anything but empty, no, it screamed of mistrust and suspicion, with anger and disgust rolling from Aeris in waves, and he couldn't understand why.

The silence lasted a few more agonising minutes, Obi-wan picking a dead twig from the floor and using it to poke at the fire noncommittally. Aeris had taken to rummaging around in her bag again.

"I have one question, and I promise if you give me a proper answer, the real answer, I won't ask anything more about your past." Obi-wan awaits Aeris' response, her stilling hands and amber eyes flicking in his direction indicating she was listening. "Your ribs - where had you seen the force before? Used in such a way?" 

He overturns a log in the simmering embers of the fire, auburn locks glowing in its dimming light. The silence between them had shifted again, and now Aeris sits, tongue heavy in her mouth as she tries to find the right words.

"I happened to be on a central planet when the Jedi Republic collapsed. When everything fell, they stopped all intergalactic transport so we couldn't get away. I saw a lot."

"We?"

"My family."

The terseness in her voice told him all he needed to know about their fate, and that she was telling the truth, no matter how painful it may be.

"You couldn't have been very old when it happened, what were you, eighteen?"

"Sixteen."

He glances up from the simmering flames to the brunette, her gaze locked onto the fire, nothing written upon her features except exhaustion. "I'm sorry."

He didn't know what had compelled him to say it, part of him hoping the sympathy would help prompt her into sharing more, and another, larger, part of him genuinely feeling somewhat responsible. The Jedi had been supposed to protect people like her, and instead they had failed, he had failed.

She couldn't bring herself to tell him he had no need to apologise, and she felt her chest tightening uncomfortably as she stared back at him through the dying flames, both surprised and unjustifiably furious. She zips her bag shut abruptly, quietly clearing her throat. "Well, if you're not going to sleep, I might as well. If you hear anything, wake me up."

Obi-wan sits silently as she once again lays down, eyes closed and pale face warmed by the soft glow of the fire. He sighs a deep breath, cerulean gaze turning to the fissure of the tree, his hands clasped in his lap as the silence settles. 

He had a familiar feeling that he had said the wrong thing, again. 

---

Before he knew it, Obi-wan was waking up to the sounds of bird-chatter and the rustling of leaves, the embers of the fire long-dead and an early-morning golden hue streaming in through the opening of the bark of the tree. He stirs for a moment, not remembering falling asleep, and rubs at his eyes, grunting at the more-prominent pain in his shoulder. 

Leia, tucked tightly into his side with her dusty cream blanket wrapped over her shoulders, stirs at his movements, wide brown eyes blearily staring up at him, brows furrowed and lips tugging down at having been awoken so early. "...Ben?"

"Good morning, Leia." He mutters, standing and stretching his limbs, gaze travelling across their small camp. A little lizard sat nestled upon the charred log pile, and watched them with eyes as dark as the abyss. "We should get going before the sun peaks. Did you sleep well?" 

Leia hums something unintelligible, Obi-wan nods in agreement.

He looks across at the still-sleeping figure of Aeris as Leia begins to shuffle her blanket together, complaining about being hungry. 

He watches the brunette's sleeping form for a moment, wishing that by some miracle she would awaken without him having to do anything, but she looked truly out of it, not a single muscle in her body tense. Her arms had wound themselves tightly around her torso underneath her shirt throughout the night, and he could see the edge of the bacta-patch poking out from underneath her elbow. 

Tentatively, he steps forward. 

"Aeris?" Silence. He calls her name again, louder.

"Aeris, can you hear me?" 

With no luck, and no sign the woman was even somewhat conscious, he reaches out a hand, slowly, gently, placing it against her shoulder.

"Aeris-" 

She jolts as soon as his palm lands against her shoulder, and before he knows it there's the barrel of her remaining blaster aimed straight at his face as he tries to lurch back. 

"It's me! It's just me, Obi-wan." 

The blaster immediately lowers, Aeris' bloodshot eyes closing as she rests back against the damp floor, taking a deep breath.

"Don't do that." She groans, both palms coming up to press against her tired eyes. 

"How else am I supposed to-"

"You're right, you're right." She waves a hand at him dismissively, and a frown tugs at his chapped lips. "You startled me. I- Sorry." 

Before he could even register that she had just apologised to him, Aeris is standing from the floor and patting her legs down, yawning as she does. 

Obi-wan watches on in surprise as she hauls her bag over her shoulders, still thoroughly shocked she had apologised so easily so early in the morning. Perhaps today would be a good day for them.

"You fucking snore, you know?"

Perhaps not.

"My apologies." He snarks, watching with crossed arms as she re-arranges her pockets. "Feeling better than yesterday, or am I to carry you again?" 

"Oh, shove off." Her attitude had returned with break-neck speed, but Obi-wan was somewhat thankful. Temper meant energy, and energy meant she was recovering. She was doing remarkably well for someone who had just crash-landed in a cockpit not more than 12 hours ago, and without any of the force protection he and Leia had enjoyed. 

Obi-wan continues to watch as she lifts her creased shirt, a hand tugging at the now-empty bacta-patch. With one swift tug she drops the sheet of plastic onto the floor, a hand exploratively running over the freshly-healed skin.

"That looks better." He comments, the skin still slightly mottled with discolouration, but now of yellows and greys far closer to her actual skin colour than the horrendous sangria that had engulfed half her torso before. The puncture wound higher up her ribcage was also now completely gone, only a small sliver of silvery skin left behind.

"Good as new." She comments, giving her side a light tap, and satisfied with the lack of pain that greeted her.

Leia takes that moment, without thinking, to hold her blanket out for the bounty hunter to take, arm out expectantly. 

Aeris glances down at the young girl, an eyebrow raised in disbelief. Obi-wan nearly jumps in-between them to save the young girl from an untimely demise.

"What, I'm some pack-mule now that I can walk?" 

"I- uh." Leia stutters, drawing the blanket back into her chest with the sudden dawning realisation that she was not at home, and that the adults around her weren't like the servants at home. In her tiredness she had forgotten where she was, and now gaped like a fish out of water as she tried to come up with an excuse to explain her behaviour.

"Manners." Aeris demands, arms crossed and hip popped out to the side. "What do you say?"

"I- uh," Leia glances between the adults. "can- can you please put my blanket in your bag? Please?" 

Aeris' lips purse, but she reaches out to take the blanket nonetheless. "Better." 

Obi-wan doesn't miss the side-eye she sends his way as she stuffs the blanket into her pack, and for some reason, he feels as though he should defend himself.

"I don't know what her mother is teaching her." 

He follows Aeris out of the tree, raising his finger to his lips as Leia frowns at him for the comment. Getting the hint, she bites her tongue, but follows behind with a huff and a frown regardless.

[thatseventiesbitch]

Can you do little Leia and Donna making pancakes for Eric on Father’s Day and/or his birthday? But it’s as chaotic as it can be, and Leia keeps eating the raw ingredients. Thank you!

(I’m watching Laura’s pancake video, and I thought it’d be cute for Leia and Donna :))

Thanks for the ask! Sorry for the delay. I love Laura's videos, and I loved this prompt! 😁 Prompt Ask Game

"Okay Le-Le, pour this cup of flour into the bowl." Donna handed her 4 year old the measuring cup, packed tightly with flour. Some of it fluttered to the counter, like snow, as Leia dumped it in the large mixing bowl between them. "Good job."

Donna chuckled, glancing down at the mess they'd made. They had maybe gotten as much on the counter (and floor) as they'd gotten into the bowl.

"And now the sugar." Donna handed her the measuring utensil, this time packed with sugar, and turned around to grab a mixing spoon. When she turned back around, Leia had the handful of the crystal sugar in her mouth. "Leia - no!"

She yanked the measuring cup away and foisted the sugar from her hands, lifting her over to the sink to clean them with a wash cloth.

"What?" her daughter blinked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. The same expression her father used when he wanted to get out of trouble. Donna sighed.

"You can't eat that, Leia," she explained. "Plain sugar. It's not... good."

Fleetingly, she thought of Fez. This was a conversation she'd had with him a few times when they were teenagers. She smiled faintly at the memory.

"Okay mama."

They returned to the task at hand - making a Father's Day breakfast in bed - and Donna let Leia stir the dry ingredients together.

"Want to watch me crack the egg, babe?" she said a few moments later.

"Yeah!"

Leia leaned forward excitedly, her chin resting on her propped up arms. Donna cracked the egg into the mix of dry ingredients, and Leia ooh'ed and ahh'ed like it was the 4th of July. Afterwards she stretched her hand out for the gooey shell, and Donna handed it to her.

"Put it in the trash," she said. But Leia lifted the eggshell to her lips curiously instead.

"LEIA!" Donna yelled this time, startling the little girl. She froze. "Don't eat that!" She'd rushed forward and scooped it out of her hands, shaking her head. "God. Why are you trying to put everything in your mouth today?"

"I'm hungry," she pouted.

"Leia, we're making pancakes," Donna reminded her, exasperated as she cleaned her hands with the washcloth once again.

"For Daddy?" Leia brightened.

Donna's expression lightened too. "Yeah. For Daddy." She finished cleaning Leia's hands, and tossed the washcloth back in the sink. They went back the the counter and Donna resumed mixing the pancake ingredients. "You can give him your card, too," she reminded Leia.

"And I picked him a flower at Gramma's!"

"He's gonna love that. Go get it, Le-Le."

Donna finished mixing the pancakes and slowly added one to the pan. As it cooked, she assembled the serving tray they had. She put Leia's card and flower on it with a glass of orange juice, a cloth napkin, and some silverware.

When she turned around, Leia was seated across from the remaining pancake batter. She had a smear of something suspicious above her lip and her innocent expression from before - the one that meant she was guilty. Donna growled.

"Leia, I swear to god if you a- "

Donna's anger was interrupted by a high pitched shrieking noise. The fire alarm was going off. She rushed to the stove - her pancake was burning!

She turned off the heat and headed to the sink to rinse the whole charred mess down the garbage disposal. The fire alarm was still blaring, and she groaned. This wasn't the way Eric deserved to wake up on Father's Day. And he had to be awake now.

Sure enough, when Donna turned back around, Eric was there. And the blaring noise had stopped.

"Are you guys okay?" He held a broom. He'd used the handle to turn off the fire alarm.

Donna nodded. "S-sorry," she panted from the adrenaline. She clutched her chest. "Eric, I'm sorry."

He chuckled and crossed the room, and he hugged her. "For what, m'lady? I love pancakes," he smiled good-naturedly as they pulled apart, but he still held onto her forearms, steadying her. "And what's all this?" he gestured to the serving tray on the table.

"L-leia made you a card," Donna said, still catching her breath. "I was gonna make pancakes and bacon for breakfast. And I'll give you my present later." She smirked. "When we're alone."

"Hey, all my favorite things," Eric grinned.

Donna blushed and looked down. "Well I'm sorry your Father's Day breakfast was a bust - "

"What do you mean?" Eric interrupted, incredulous. He gestured around them at the pancake batter, the handmade card, and their daughter. "Donna - it's perfect." He drew her in and kissed the side of her head. "Absolutely perfect."

[nonhumanhottie]

A new hope rewatch

My housemate but on x files by habit despite two minutes ago suggesting we watch the movie

Housemate about the crawl: that's rogue one!!

Vader serving absolute cunt hands on hips slay king

'Such a mean twink' housemate @ Threepio

Luke is just a little guy!!!

The way Threepio drops he's with the rebellion to Luke without prompting that's so dangerous baby

Threepio and Artoo's backstory is so scrambled lmao

Oh dear Luke don't join the academy

Obi wan and his rapid ageing lets go

The Senate being dismantled is so interesting that's such an extreme move

Housemate so shook about the charred corpses

Obi-Wan slicing off the dude's arm is never not funny real subtle jedi-in-hiding

Housenate so mad at the added Jabba scene

They're also living Han and Luke fighting

I love them acting like jedi are ancient history girl it was 20 years go

'God hes hot' housemate @ Harrison Ford

Han really said fuck that raggedy old hermit

How this squad manages to save the galaxy I have no fucking clue they're hopeless

They're all just dumb beautiful bitches

The lightsaber fight really is so piss poor lmao like what is this

Housemate literally pissing themselves over how dumb the fight is

Obi wan peacing out like that is so fucking funny he really said fuck his

Luke is such a simp for leia like shut up and don't be jealous of Han she hates you both

Han saying 'may the force be with you' to Luke is such a simple display of Han's heart and honour

Housemate absolutely screaming over Porkins

Dodonna putting a comforting hand on Leia bc she scoots closer to him such a cute moment

The Luke, Han, Leia hug at the end is literally so special go me stop it

Its kinda rough to watch right after Andor and Rouge one but I love it and its genuinely such a sweet ending

[insertmeaningfulusername]

tag game: (star wars)

Thank you for the tag dear @starrrgazingbunny 🥰

1.ride or die ship (your otp): aaah uuuh decisions decisions... Codywan are very neat, and so is almost every mlm Luke ship!!

2. most annoying ship: 'annoying' is an overexaggeration because I just don't pay attention to ships I don't like but. Bo-Katan/Din while S3 aired was a bit unnerving

3. second favourite ship: ReyRose are very sweet (: and CintaVel

4. favourite platonic relationship: Luke & Vader

5. underrated ship: literally every femslash ship! Like Sana Starros/Leia Organa 🥺

6. overrated ship: idek lmao

7. one thing i would change in canon: Filoni dunking on the Jedi in the last season of TCW because that was entirely uncalled for and out of character. Also, just delete all of Mando S3. Oh, and treat the POC in Andor better.

8. something canon did right: anytime anyone gets a sincere heartfelt hug!!

9. a thing i'm proud of creating for the fandom

PLEASE BRAG ABOUT YOURSELF I WANT TO SEE/READ YOUR ART: my fics (:

10. a character who is perfect to me (wouldn't change a thing): OT Luke <3 and Omega

11. the character i relate to the most and why: both Luke and Din lmao

12. character(-s i hate the most and why: Krell. Like, just die.

13. something i've learned from the fandom: there are always more ships out there to discover and love, no matter how improbable they might sound!!

14. three tags i seek out on a03: Whump, bottom!char, Fix-It

15. a song i strongly associate with my otp/ favourite character: I Know the End by Phoebe Bridgers for all of Star Wars tbh

No pressure tagging @doublechocolate @materassassino @veradragonjedi @mars-attacking @zearay @tatooinedays @cam-elot @synthwwavve @velvetsunset

[ask-the-shiny-pokemons]

Rimi and Friend’s Star Sending Wishlist

To someone who reads this.

A Star Sending Event is under way and I…no…we want something we need. My friends and family are excited too, so I am also writing it for them too. Here the wishlist from Rimi (myself) and my friends:

For Noelle, she would like a new set of colorful drumsticks. She needs to replace the old ones. According to her, they are now a bit broken and sometimes burned due to her being a Fire-type

For Edin, he would enjoy a bench press. He is an athlete, so he needs to go to the gym at least thrice per week. He can use this to train himself at home in case the gym is unexpectedly closed for business.

For Wil, he would appreciate a personal award. You need a skilled actor to ever receive one, but since he is a newbie, an award with his appearance would be a good gift. I also put his photo, so you’ll know what he looks like.

For my family, we need more rare berries for Malasadas. My mom runs the shop near my home and we use more common berries like Cheri, Leppa, Oran, etc. While we appreciated the taste, we found it quite boring. Any rare berry is welcome, but if you bring the rarest Liechi Berries, we'll be extremely happy.

And for myself, I want one thing - a photo charm with us - the Virbank Baddies (me, Noelle, and Edin) to make sure to have with it even if we are separated. I need three of them at least, one for each of our band members. I’ve also put our photo together for this.

Hopefully you’ll help us to have a marvelous Star Sending for this year.

Thank you for reading.

-Rimi

MOD NOTES BELOW

This is an unusual list that is different from any list examples I saw. I’ll only include physical items because I couldn’t think of impossible things, like friendship matters, etc.

Noelle and Leia’s (Rimi’s mom) wishes are quite easy to obtain. You can make a drumstick from the wood and like to color it. For berries - I really want to be rare. Not necessarily the Liechi Berries. I’m not an expert, but here is the list of them.

Edin’s wish is quite complicated. Of course if you can’t buy the bench press, you can of course make it as long as the plate for the barbell remains heavy and the barbell is strong to hold those.

Wil’s reward can be made of anything, even from the wood. A silly pose or expression is welcome too, he would be happy nevertheless. Here is the preferred reference. Rimi’s wish is the charm of the Virbank Baddies together. Of course I haven’t made any art of all three together, but if you wish to make it, I don’t mind. Here are the references of my chars (pardon my old references) (Rimi, Noelle, Edin). Them with instruments are preferred (Rimi with microphone, Noelle with drumsticks, and Edin with rock guitar)

[silverjetsystm]

~10 Fandoms/ ~10 Characters/ ~10 Tags*

*In no particular order

Ma.rvel

St.eve Rogers (any all, minus thrice damned eg and certain 616 runs after Brubaker)

Bucky Bar.nes (616-focused with a sort of fondness for M.CU)

M.oon Kn.ight System (616)

Surprise, surprise, the characters I write on this site are the ones I most enjoy~

Det.ective Co.mics Comics

Cass.andra Cain (New Earth/Pre-Flashpoint)

Kate Kane (New 52)

Barb.ara Gor.don (New Earth/Pre-Flashpoint)

Steph.anie Brown (New Earth/Pre-Flashpoint)

Ja.son Todd (New Earth/Pre-Flashpoint)

Rory Regan (90s series)

I know, I know, I need to get out of Gotham more

St.ar Wars

Leia Org.ana

Luke Sky.walker

Rey

Finn

Cass.ian Andor

VII can stay, the alleged movies after can leave.

Misc.

Immortal Tatsu - Way of the Househusband

Mordred - Fate Franchise

Riza Hawkeye - Fullmetal Alchemist

Char Aznable - Gundam

tagged by: @kylo-wrecked & @nightmarefuele