#especially those against jedi prep

[tennessoui]

Number 19 for the prompt thing. The parents meeting because of their kids. I’m kinda imagining Korkie being like a tutor/school reading buddy for the twins or something but you can just ignore that if it doesn’t match your thoughts on it.

hello!! i thought back as much as i could, and i don't think i actually did this prompt the first time around a couple of years ago, so there's nothing to link to save for the prompt list!

i stuck with korkie as obi-wan's kid and the twins as anakin's, but made the kids the same age and then took...a few more liberties with the prompt haha

(19. parents meeting while taking their kids to class) (sort of)

(2.8k)

“Leia, baby, why do you always decide to get into fights at school when it’s my week with you?” Anakin asks the steering wheel as he buckles himself in and turns over the engine. “They’re going to start thinking I’m raising a truant. Then they’re going to start asking about your home life, then they’re going to bring in experts to ask me more questions, then Padmé’s parents are going to throw their considerable legal weight around and get my partial custody revoked and then where will we be? Is that what you want? To only see me on your birthday and Christmas?”

Anakin pauses and reconsiders. Knowing his daughter, she may very well only want to see him for birthdays and Christmases. It would mean double the presents.

Thankfully the silence of the car doesn’t offer much in the way of constructive critique.

At a red light, he puts his head down on the steering wheel for a long enough moment that the car behind him honks when the light changes to green.

“They’re going to stop letting me leave work to come get you,” Anakin mutters a few minutes later as he turns the car into the school’s parking lot. “I have a partner meeting in thirty minutes that I really can’t miss, baby. Can’t you at least schedule your schoolyard fights around my calendar?”

It’s all rather pointless, but it feels good to grumble and bitch in the time it takes him to leave his office and arrive at the school, before he has to put on his adult face and demeanor to sit through another round of We’re Worried Your Five Year Old Is Too Violent As She Seems To View The Monkey Bars As Sacrificial Zones.

“Maybe she’d like hockey,” he says under his breath as he grabs his jacket from the other seat and swings it over his suit. It’s fucking freezing already, not even December. It’s indecent, that’s what it is. Surely a place as cold as this has a peewee hockey team in need of another angry little girl.

“Thank you,” he says when a woman holds the door open for him on her way out the building.

He’s stil sort of freaked out that the elementary school his children are going to is fancy enough to have an entrance hallway with a chandelier hanging from the ceilingk, but it’s not him that’s paying for their private school education that doesn’t offer discounts for all the collective hours they’ll spend napping on the floors.

To the immediate left of the door is the receptionist’s desk—behind her, the nurse’s room. He’s quite familiar with both. Mrs. Whitsdale even waves when she sees him, which means, unfortunately, she’s just made the shortlist of people Anakin needs to make Christmas cookies for. She joins the ranks of everyone else that’s been made to deal with his son and daughter in the tumultuous year after the divorce.

“Hi, ma’am,” he says dutifully, sticking his head into the receptionist area. “Do I need to sign in or can I just go up?”

She waves him away. “I’ve already got you, sweetheart. You’re late anyway, they’re waiting for you upstairs.”

“You’re a miracle amongst men,” he calls out as he turns instead to the right of the door and up the old staircase that leads to the principal’s office. This is also a route he is incredibly familiar with.

How can he be late? He practically flew here on light feet and broken speed limits. It’s enough to take his mood from bad to worse, which isn’t optimal for a meeting with the principal of the school when it’s his kid who caused the fight. Anakin’s role is to nonconfrontational, contrite to the point of groveling—because he knows his daughter won’t. 

That’s already hard enough when he’s feeling normal. It’s practically impossible when he’s feeling foul.

But Padmé did always say Leia got her stubbornness and temper from Anakin.

Anakin’s always said Leia never really had a chance considering who her parents are. 

After all, someone threw a hairdryer at the hotel mirror before they got divorced and it wasn’t Anakin. But he’s not stupid enough to even think that when Padmé’s around.

The big oak door at the end of the hallway on the second floor is elaborate, looks heavy, and stays closed. He knows that this is the headmaster’s office, but he’s never seen the guy around. He doesn’t even know what the guy does. What’s a headmaster of an elementary school doing every day? 

It’s an elementary school.

But, again. Anakin’s not paying for all this pomp and circumstance.

He takes another right instead, down the corridor in the opposite direction to the principal’s office. The door’s left ajar, and Anakin knocks politely before entering at the call to.

A couple of things bring him up short as soon as he steps into the room. For one thing, it’s not Principal Cinoff behind the desk, but a stranger who has the remnants of a three-piece suit on, jacket hanging neatly on a coat rack in the corner of the room. His vest is a deep red that should do nothing but drain his complexion—all pasty white skin, freckled and sun-starved, paired with his reddish hair and beard. It doesn’t, which is unfair to the point of duplicity. Or–something.

The way he’s sitting at the desk, hands spread wide on the wood and shoulders back, leaves no doubt in Anakin’s mind that the stranger is in a position of power here at the school. And probably in, like. Life. He looks like the kind of guy who gets his groceries on discount even without providing a loyalty card. He also looks like the kind of guy the system bends to accommodate. As a lawyer, Anakin is offended and deeply disturbed. That’s why his stomach does two or three flips in quick succession when they make eye contact.

The stranger’s eyes are cool and focused as they run over Anakin, and he gives him a perfunctory incline of his head. At least his eyes are warmer when they fall to the kids in front of him. 

And that’s the other thing that shocks him.

The amount of children in front of the desk. One pouting ginger kid off to the side, arms crossed and staring down at his light-up sneakers.

And then two very familiar heads of hair on the other side. 

“Luke?” He asks before he can stop himself, surprise dripping from his tone. “What are you doing here?”

At this rate, he’s going to give his daughter a complex, he knows it.

But Luke has never been in trouble before. Sure, they’re only five, and it’s only been three months of school, but in that time, Anakin’s been called down here six times to deal with Leia-related emergencies. He’s always imagined that meanwhile, Luke was in his classroom, chewing on crayons or diligently helping the teacher pass out homework assignments.

The stand-in principal coughs slightly and rises. “Ah, Mr. Skywalker-Amidala. Thank you for being able to join us today.”

Anakin scowls automatically before schooling his face into something far more diplomatic and pleasant when his children whirl around in their seats to look at him. The last thing he needs is for his children to think they can sneer at authority figures, given that he’s one of their main authority figures. 

Luke leaves his chair to hug onto his leg, pressing his small face into the fabric of his pants, presumably seeking comfort and also to wipe his face dry of tears and snot.

Anakin puts a hand on his head and strokes through his hair, darting a curious glance at Leia, who has turned around to glare forward again, arms crossed over her chest.

“It’s just Skywalker, actually,” he tells the stranger. “Amidala is their mother.”

The man’s eyebrow goes up and he picks up a pen to make a note on the papers before him. An actual note. Regarding Anakin’s divorce. “Ah, apologies then,” he says. “Our contact list notes you as the father, Skywalker-Amidala, and their mother as Amidala-Organa.”

Anakin squints, trying to decide if the stranger is just trying to correct a clerical error in the school’s records or fishing for gossip. He gives him the benefit of the doubt. “Amidala is their mother, recently remarried to Organa. Organas. And she’s always been better at remembering to file paperwork than I am.”

The stranger keeps his face admirably placid. “Ah,” he says. “Well, Mr. Skywalker. Should we begin?”

“Uh,” he says. “What about the other parent?”

The stranger blinks at him, both eyebrows raised. “I’m a widower.”

“Uh,” he says. “I meant…” he gestures at the other child, the surly looking ginger kid.

“I’m afraid it will just be us, Mr. Skywalker,” the stranger says. “Please, sit.”

Anakin sits, and Luke is quick to scramble up into his lap with a very plaintative, “I didn’t really mean to.”

“So at recess today, the children were playing on the swings,” the stranger who must be the principal for the day says. “And—”

“Sorry,” Anakin interrupts. “Can I get your name please? I was expecting Principal Cinoff.”

The man pauses. “Sheri has been put on sudden maternity-leave a few months early,” he says. “For the next couple of weeks, I’ll be dual-hatting as both principal and headmaster while we continue to search for a temporary replacement.” He raises an eyebrow at Anakin. Anakin really doesn’t appreciate that. “This was in an email the school sent out to all the parents recently.”

“Yes, well,” Anakin says. “I get a lot of emails.”

The man looks unimpressed. “I encourage you to prioritize the communications from your children’s learning institute.”

Anakin bristles. What a dick. Who the fuck says learning institute?

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” he asks in his best unimpressed voice.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi,” the man’s unimpressed voice is ten times more chilling than Anakin’s, which is also not fair. “Please, call me Dr. Kenobi.” Anakin scowls. “I appreciate the fact that you feel as though you can cover the extremely busy roles of both headmaster and principal of an elementary school, but I would really rather wait until the other parent gets here so we can most productively discuss the altercation, Mr. Kenobi.”

“Please, Mr. Skywalker,” Kenobi says. “Leave the litigation to the court rooms, we—”

“It’s Esquire, actually.”

Kenobi’s face grows very pinched around the mouth and eyebrows. Anakin feels a vicious thrill course through him even as his stomach flips again.

“I suppose I should have made it clearer at the beginning of this session,” Kenobi says, tone dripping in you idiot. “This is my son, Korkie.”

Anakin’s mouth falls open. His immediate thought is, of course, Korkie Kenobi? And he thought Luke and Leia were too cutesy for twin names.

“Korkie is a family name,” Kenobi adds rather dryly. “My late wife’s grandfather’s.”

Anakin doubts that’s even true. He bets it’s not actually, that Kenobi just plays the dead wife card to get out of judgemental questions about his naming abilities.

But then another, worse thought occurs to Anakin. “Wait a second, you can’t be the parent and the principal!”

“I assure you, I am impartial.”

“Like hel—heck you are!” Anakin straightens in his seat and Luke lets out a grumble, clinging tightly to his front. “I demand a different authority.” “No,” Kenobi says firmly, as if the matter is at rest. This, of course, is absolutely infuriating.

“It’s unfair bias and I will not see either of my children punished in a tyrannical and self-serving institution—”

Kenobi pinches at the bridge of his nose. “Mr. Skywalker, unless you would like to have me call Mrs. Cinoff away from her pre-mature baby, I am the best option this school has. Please. Settle down.”

“Dad,” Leia says, “I don’t want to miss reading time.”

Anakin breathes out in disgust. Shitty, overpriced private school. This sort of thing would never happen at a publicly funded school.

“The fact of the matter is that Luke pushed Korkie off the swings,” Kenobi says with a stern look at both Luke and Anakin. He holds up his hand when Anakin opens his mouth. “An incident that many were witness to. And before you make an accusation, there were many witnesses who were not on the school’s payroll, Mr. Skywalker.”

Anakin closes his mouth sullenly.

“Korkie could have been very hurt, Luke,” Kenobi says, clasping his hands in front of him and looking down at Anakin’s son. “He was swinging pretty fast when you pushed him, and he could have broken his ankle in the fall.”

Luke’s bottom lip trembles. “I didn’t want to hurt him,” he mumbles, turning his face back into Anakin’s sleeve. “He was being mean. I just wanted him to stop.” “I wasn’t!” Korkie cries, sitting straight in his chair for the first time since Anakin’s arrived. “I wasn’t being mean, dad!” “You said Leia’s hair looks like cinnamon buns on her head!” Luke shouts back, pushing away from Anakin’s arms to glare at the other boy. 

Anakin winces. When it’s Padmé’s turn with the kids, Leia always turns up to school with elaborately braided hair, twisted on top of her head in elegant formations that look effortlessly pretty. He knows that’s not Padmé’s work, but he also can’t figure out if Breha or Bail is responsible. It’s not something he wants to ask.

The fanciest Anakin can do, after all, is two buns on either side of Leia’s head. 

That do, truth be told, look rather like cinnamon rolls.

“Ah,” Kenobi says. “I believe I understand the miscommunication here. Korkie, would you like to tell the Skywalkers what you meant when you told Luke that Leia’s hair looked like cinnamon buns?”

If possible, the kid turns even more red, blushing furiously. “I really like cinnamon buns,” he mutters, crossing his arms tighter. “They’re my favorite.”

“He’s started asking for them for breakfast several times a week,” Kenobi tells Anakin with a smile lingering around his lips. “I’ve been wondering why.”

Anakin isn’t sure he likes the explanation. Sure, Korkie can have whatever sort of crush on his daughter that he wants to have, but likening her hair to cinnamon buns isn’t very kind, and he’s pretty sure that if someone else was the judge in this trial, they wouldn’t be so quick to justify the other boy’s words.

Luke seems to agree with him. “Your hair looks like carrots,” he snaps, crossing his arms.

Because Anakin is an intelligent adult who understands that making enemies with the headmaster’s son isn’t the best move, he adds on the Skywalker family’s behalf, “Luke loves carrots.”

Luke, in fact, hates carrots. 

“There is still the matter of Luke pushing Korkie off the swing,” Kenobi says, eyebrows raised like he understands exactly what’s going unsaid here. “We do not encourage physical violence of any sort here, and it was dangerous. Korkie could have been hurt much more badly than a scraped knee.”

The words are very serious and grave, and Luke wilts under the headmaster-principal-father’s disappointed stare. Anakin bristles.

“Well, it’s his first infraction,” he says. “And he was sticking up for his sister. I think that’s fair. He won’t do it again.”

“Hm,” Kenobi says, pushing papers aside and pulling out a glossy leaflet. “Now, I cannot force you to consider this, but I noticed that neither Luke nor Leia are currently enrolled in any of our extracurriculars.”

“They’re five.”

“We have many on offer at Jedi Prepatory School,” Kenobi continues as if Anakin hasn’t said anything. “And I wanted to highlight our peewee hockey league. I think both Leia and Luke would enjoy the rigorous schedule, and they may…benefit from the…structure it offers. And team activity.”

Anakin glowers. He can read between the lines. Kenobi’s just called his parenting style structureless and lazy. It makes him want to grab the pamphlet and rip it to shreds in front of him. “I would have to talk about it with their mother,” he says stiffly instead.

“Of course,” Kenobi says cheerfully. “When you do, please give Bail and Breha my well-wishes as well. It’s been far too long since I’ve had the time to see them, given how exhastingly busy it is to be the headmaster and principal of an elementary school.”

“Right,” Anakin grits out. “Yeah. I’ll let my ex-wife’s new partners know.”

Kenobi’s smile is all teeth. “I look forward to seeing you in the rink, Mr. Skywalker Esquire. My son plays on the team.”

Anakin wonders if there’s another peewee hockey team he can have his kids join. Just so they can beat Jedi Prepatory school and then laugh in Korkie and Dr. Kenobi’s faces.

Yeah. That sounds really nice.

He’ll look when he gets back to work.

This takes priority.

[writerbuddha]

George Lucas on attachment from 1999 to 2021

BILL MOYERS: Do you know yet what, in a future episode, is going to transform Anakin Skywalker to the dark side?

GEORGE LUCAS: Yes, I know what that is. The groundwork has been laid in this episode. The film is ultimately about the dark side and the light side, and those sides are designed around compassion and greed. The issue of greed, of getting things and owning things and having things and not being able to let go of things, is the opposite of compassion--of not thinking of yourself all the time. These are the two sides--the good force and the bad force. They're the simplest parts of a complex cosmic construction.

George Lucas and Bill Moyers 1999, Time Magazine (http://content.time.com/time/subscriber/article/0,33009,990820-2,00.html)

GEORGE LUCAS: He turns into Darth Vader because he gets attached to things. He can't let go of his mother; he can't let go of his girlfriend. He can't let go of things. It makes you greedy. And when you're greedy, you are on the path to the dark side, because you fear you're going to lose things, that you're not going to have the power you need.

George Lucas to Time Magazine April, 2002 (http://content.time.com/time/subscriber/article/0,33009,1002323-3,00.html)

GEORGE LUCAS: In this film, (Phantom Menace) you begin to see that he has a fear of losing things, a fear of losing his mother, and as a result, he wants to begin to control things, he wants to become powerful, and these are not Jedi traits. And part of these are because he was starting to be trained so late in life, that he'd already formed these attachments. And for a Jedi, attachment is forbidden.

George Lucas to CNN, May 8, 2002 (https://edition.cnn.com/2002/SHOWBIZ/Movies/05/07/ca.s02.george.lucas/index.html)

GEORGE LUCAS: Jedi Knights aren’t celibate – the thing that is forbidden is attachments – and possessive relationships.

George Lucas to BBC, May 12, 2002 (http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/entertainment/1989505.stm)

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

George Lucas to Rolling Stones, 2005 (https://www.rollingstone.com/movies/movie-news/george-lucas-and-the-cult-of-darth-vader-247142/)

GEORGE LUCAS: The core issue, ultimately, is greed, possessiveness - the inability to let go. Not only to hold on to material things, which is greed, but to hold on to life, to the people you love - to not accept the reality of life’s passages and changes, which is to say things come, things go. Everything changes. Anakin becomes emotionally attached to things, his mother, his wife. That’s why he falls - because he does not have the ability to let go.

No human can let go. It’s very hard. Ultimately, we do let go because it’s inevitable; you do die, and you do lose your loved ones. But while you’re alive, you can’t be obsessed with holding on. As Yoda says in this one, [The scene in which Anakin seeks Yoda’s counsel] You must learn to let go of everything you’re afraid to let go of.’ Because holding on is in the same category and the precursor to greed. And that’s what a Sith is. A Sith is somebody that is absolutely obsessed with gaining more and more power - but for what? Nothing, except that it becomes an obsession to get more. The Jedi are trained to let go. They’re trained from birth, they’re not supposed to form attachments. They can love people- in fact, they should love everybody. They should love their enemies; they should love the Sith. But they can’t form attachments. So, what all these movies are about is: greed. Greed is a source of pain and suffering for everybody. And the ultimate state of greed is the desire to cheat death.

J. W. Rinzel - The Making of Revenge of the Sith page 213, published in 2005

GEORGE LUCAS: Anakin wants to be a Jedi, but he cannot let go of the people he loves in order to move forward in his life. The Jedi believe that you don’t hold on to things, that you let things pass through you, and if you can control your greed, you can resolve the conflict not only in yourself but in the world around you, because you accept the natural course of things. Anakin’s inability to follow this basic guideline is at the core of his turn to the Dark Side.

George Lucas to sci-fi online, 2005 (http://www.sci-fi-online.com/Interview/05-11-01_GeorgeLucas.htm)

GEORGE LUCAS: Love is a secret to the universe, which is compassion, which is love others, take care of others, help each other. (…) Struggle in Star Wars is about passion against compassion. Which is greed, against giving and giving up primarily and the whole issue is the flipside of greed is fear of losing. So you are either trying to get things or afraid to lose things that you’ve got and the idea is to let go of those things." - George Lucas, 2007, Devin Kumar Productions (http://www.devinkumar.com/interview-with-george-lucas/)

GEORGE LUCAS: The fact that everything must change and that things come and go through his life and that he cannot hold onto things, which is a basic Jedi philosophy that he isn't willing to accept emotionally and the reason that is because he was raised by his mother rather than the Jedi. If he'd have been taken in his first years and started to study to be a Jedi, he wouldn’t have this particular connection as strong as it is and he'd have been trained to love people but not to become attached to them.

But he become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village. The scene with the Tusken Raiders is the first scene that ultimately takes him on the road to the dark side. I mean he’s been prepping for this, but that’s the one where he’s sort of doing something that is completely inappropriate.

He’s greedy in that he wants to keep his mother around, he’s greedy in that he wants to become more powerful in order to control things in order to keep the things around that he wants. There’s a lot of connections here with the beginning of him sliding into the Dark Side.

(...)

Because of that, and because he was unwilling to let go of his mother, because he was so attached to her, he committed this terrible revenge on the tusked raiders.

George Lucas, Attack of the Clones DVD audio-commentary, 2008

GEORGE LUCAS: It’s fear of losing somebody he loves, which is the flipside of greed. Greed, in terms of the Emperor, it is the greed for power, absolute power, over everything. With Anakin, really, it’s the power to save the one he loves, but is basically going against the Fates and what is natural.

George Lucas, Revenge of the Sith DVD audio-commentary, 2008

GEORGE LUCAS: It’s pivotal that Luke doesn’t have patience. He doesn’t want to finish his training. He’s being succumbed by his emotional feelings for his friends rather than the practical feelings of “I’ve got to get this job done before I can actually save them. I can’t save them, really.” But he sorts of takes the easy route, the arrogant route, the emotional but least practical route, which is to say, “I’m just going to go off and do this without thinking too much.” And the result is that he fails and doesn’t do well for Han Solo or himself. It’s the motif that needs to be in the picture, but it’s one of those things that just in terms of storytelling was very risky because basically he screws up, and everything turns bad. And it’s because of that decision that Luke made on [Dagobah] to say, “I know I’m not ready, but I’m going to go anyway.

George Lucas, Empire Strikes Back DVD audio-commentary, 2008

GEORGE LUCAS: The core of the Force–I mean, you got the dark side, the light side, one is selfless, one is selfish, and you wanna keep them in balance. What happens when you go to the dark side is it goes out of balance and you get really selfish and you forget about everybody … because when you get selfish you get stuff, or you want stuff, and when you want stuff and you get stuff then you are afraid somebody is going to take it away from you, whether it’s a person or a thing or a particular pleasure or experience.

Once you become afraid that somebody’s going to take it away from you or you’re gonna lose it, then you start to become angry, especially if you’re losing it, and that anger leads to hate, and hate leads to suffering. Mostly on the part of the person who’s selfish, because you spend all your time being afraid of losing everything you’ve got instead of actually living. Where joy, by giving to other people you can’t think about yourself, and therefore there’s no pain. But the pleasure factor of greed and of selfishness is a short-lived experience, therefore you’re constantly trying to replenish it, but of course the more you replenish it, the harder it is to, so you have to keep upping the ante. You’re actually afraid of the pain of not having the joy. So that is ultimately the core of the whole dark side/light side of the Force. And everything flows from that. Obviously the Sith are always unhappy because they never get enough of anything they want. Mostly, their selfishness centers around power and control. And the struggle is always to be able to let go of all that stuff. And of course that’s the problem with Anakin ultimately. You’re allowed to love people, but you’re not allowed to possess them. And what he did is he fell in love and married her and then became jealous. Then he saw in his visions that she was going to die, and he couldn’t stand losing her. So in order to not lose her, he made a pact with the devil to be able to become all-powerful. When he did that, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, so he lost her. Once you are powerful, being able to bring her back from the dead, if I can do that, I can become emperor of the universe. I can get rid of the Emperor. I can make everything the way I want it. Once you do that, you’ll never be satiated. You’re always going to be consumed by this driving desire to have more stuff and be afraid that others are going to take it away from you. And they are. Every time you get two Sith together, you have the master, the apprentice, and the apprentice is always trying to recruit another apprentice to join with him to kill the master. The master knows that basically everybody below him wants his job. Only way to overcome the dark side is through discipline. The dark side is pleasure, biological and temporary and easy to achieve. The light side is joy, everlasting and difficult to achieve. A great challenge. Must overcome laziness, give up quick pleasures, and overcome fear which leads to hate.

George Lucas, explaining the Force to the Clone Wars writing team, 2010 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9nFMBBrliyQ&t=41s&ab_channel=StarWarsCoffee)

GEORGE LUCAS: When you start to care about yourself and the things that you own and the things that you have and you’re greedy and you want things all the time and you don’t want to give them up because you’re afraid to give them up, you turn to the dark side. And that’s what happened to Anakin.

George Lucas Q&A: Field Museum, Chicago 5/8/2010 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zRaVjM_goKM)

GEORGE LUCAS: The thing about Anakin is, Anakin started out as a nice kid. He was kind, and sweet, and lovely, and he was then trained as a Jedi. But the Jedi can’t be selfish. They can love but they can’t love people to the point of possession. You can’t really possess somebody, because people are free. It’s possession that causes a lot of trouble, and that causes people to kill people, and causes people to be bad. Ultimately it has to do with being unwilling to give things up.

The whole basis here is if you’re selfish, if you’re a Sith Lord, you’re greedy. You’re constantly trying to get something. And you’re constantly in fear of not getting it, or, when you get it, you’re in constant fear of losing it. And it’s that fear that takes you to the dark side. It’s that fear of losing what you have or want.

Sometimes it’s ambition, but sometimes, like in the case of Anakin, it was fear of losing his wife. He knew she was going to die. He didn’t quite know how, so he was able to make a pact with a devil that if he could learn how to keep people from dying, he would help the Emperor. And he became a Sith Lord. Once he started saying, “Well, we could take over the galaxy, I could take over from the Emperor, I could have ultimate power,” Padmé saw right through him immediately. She said, “You’re not the person I married. You’re a greedy person.” So that’s ultimately how he fell and he went to the dark side.

And then Luke had the chance to do the same thing. He didn’t do it.

George Lucas, 2019 (https://www.starwars.com/news/star-wars-episode-i-the-phantom-menace-oral-history)

GEORGE LUCAS: They (the Jedi) trained more than anything else to understand the transitional nature of life, that things are constantly changing and you can't hold on to anything. You can love things but you can't be attached to them, You must be willing to let the flow of life and the flow of the Force move through your life, move through you. So that you can be compassionate and loving and caring, but not be possessive and grabbing and holding on to things and trying to keep things the way they are. Letting go is the central theme of the film."

George Lucas, "Star Wars Archives 1999-2005" p. 72-73 (2020)

GEORGE LUCAS: Luke is faced with the same issues and practically the same scenes that Anakin is faced with. Anakin says yes, and Luke says no. (…) We have the scene when Anakin decides to save Palpatine and join him, so they could learn how to save Padmé. The equivalent scene in VI is when the Emperor’s trying to get Luke to kill his dad so he can save his sister.”

George Lucas, "Star Wars Archives 1999-2005" p. 421 and p. 212. (2020)

GEORGE LUCAS: The secret ultimately like in Star Wars is that you have to not be afraid. Fear is the enemy; fear is the Dark Side. If you afraid, you are going to the Dark Side. The Light Side is compassion. As long as you love other people and treat them kindly, you won't be afraid. So, the secret is to just love everybody - I know that sounds very 60s but that's what I grew up in - but it its fear that cause the problem. So you have to stop being afraid and be kind to everybody.

(...)

The main theme of Star Wars is that compassion is the good side, fear is the bad side.

(...)

I kind of lost control of Star Wars so it’s going off a different path than what I intended but the first six are very much mine and my philosophy. And I think that philosophy sort of goes beyond any particular time because it’s based on history it based on philosophy. (...)

The thing with Anakin is that he started out a great kid he was very compassionate , so the issue was how did he turn bad. How did he go to the Dark Side? He went to the Dark Side, Jedi aren’t supposed to have attachments. They can love people, they can do that, but they can’t attach, that’s the problem in the world of fear. Once you are attached to something then you become afraid of losing it. And when you become afraid of losing it, then you turn to the Dark Side, and you want to hold onto it, and that was Anakin’s issue ultimately, that he wanted to hold onto his wife who he knew, he had a premonition that she was going to die, he didn’t know how to stop it, so he went to the Dark Side to find, in mythology you do to hades, and you talk to the devil, and the devil says ‘this is what you do’ and basically you sell your soul to the devil. When you do that, and you’re afraid and you’re on the Dark Side and you fall off the golden path of compassion because you are greedy, you want to hold on to something that you love and he didn’t do the right thing and as a result he turned bad.

Mellody Hobson, George Lucas - Virtual Speaker Interview (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wRqVdcE5oyI)

GEORGE LUCAS WAS ALWAYS CLEAR ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN LOVE AND ATTACHMENT, AND HOW "PREQUEL-ERA" JEDI PHILOSOPHY WORKS.

[tredawakandan]

I realized I never mentioned it b4 but Ahsoka is definitely my favorite character in the Disney Canon if Star Wars. Vader would be a close 2nd .. I posted several moments I liked from his comics in the past.. The clone wars really did a good job with Ahsoka as a character. Especially season 7 and Tales of the Jedi💯

My top 5 moments from her are:

Ahsoka trial and leaving the Jedi order😢

Ahsoka finally confronting Vader 😳. Honestly Vader revealing Anakin face after being slashed is a top 3 star wars scene i would argue🤷🏿‍♂️

Ahsoka appearing as a sage like character at the end of rebels. It suits her journey her being akin somewhat to a Jedi grandmaster. Hopefully she does start her own order someday maybe pass on some grey Jedi Philosophy

Ahsoka vs Maul is probably her best choreographed fight. I feel it showcased her skill level greatly against a respectable opponent. The cinematography of the fight also was peak

Last moment is her feeling Anakin shifting to the dark side. This was dope because it showcased how attached she was to Anakin still . What tales of the Jedi did best from her was showing how Anakin essentially prepped her to be ready against Storm troopers. This would help in her running away in her intial trial and order 66

For those who are familiar with both Legends and Disney canon you know Ahsoka is essentially the Luke of this Modern Era. It's a double edged sword but I really am grateful for the character 🙏

[leeleebee]

Please accept this as my sincerest apology for abandoning Falling Water to the fic graveyard 🥺

A scene from Chapter 2 - under the cut!

They are in the ARC barracks on the Resolute, Looking over his bracer, double checking the comms settings, Fives glances over at Echo. He’s concentrating on his DC-15 blaster pistol, checking the charge. Five pauses his equipment check, leaning against the end of the double bunk and watching Echo as he loads a fresh cartridge into the blaster. This is going to be a dangerous mission. He and Echo have survived plenty of those, but this definitely tops most. Echo must feel Fives’ eyes on him.

“What is it?” He doesn’t look up, just moves on to checking the twin DC-17s he keeps as backup on his hip holsters. “You aren't going to tell me to move my ammo packs to the other side again are you?” Fives can see a playful smirk forming on Echo’s face when he says it though.

“Well… you are the only one who keeps them on the right. Worried what the captain will think if you cover up the print?” Fives teases, although he knows after Rishi both he and Echo pretty much worshipped Rex, his guidance being one of the only things keeping them going after losing the rest of Domino. Echo throws his glove at him for that, but he’s smiling so he must not be feeling too nervous about the mission.

They are quiet for a little while after that, both gearing up and doing last checks on their armor and munitions. They’ve done this so many times now, they could probably get into full kit with their eyes closed. Still, Echo grabs Fives’ pauldrons from him when he goes to pull the scuffed plastoid over his head. Fives lets him; Echo likes to do this sometimes, especially before the more dangerous missions. Fives was offended at first, insisting he could do it himself, but he knows that it's just Echo’s way of wanting to keep him safe in whatever small way he can.

Echo moves behind him to click the magnetic clasps into place under his left pauldron.

“Do you…” Echo sounds hesitant.

Fives turns his head but keeps still. Echo has his hands resting on Fives’ shoulders, not quite touching the collar of his blacks. He tightens his grip for a second. Fives waits, he knows that whatever is bothering Echo, he will tell Fives if he needs to.

Echo’s hands slip away. “Nevermind, we can talk after the mission.”

Fives turns to tell him they have time now, if it's important, but as he does his com lights up. The captain wants them on the starboard bridge to go over the mission before they need to prep for the freezing chambers. Karking Jedi.

[thelovelylolly]

Perfect

Summary : You were the perfect padawan and jedi knight. You had everything in line and under control, which may or may not have caused you to catch Obi-Wan Kenobi’s eye.

Warnings : None :) the only thing is the reader is depicted with having longer hair, or long enough hair to pull into a bun. (also not proofread bc im lazy)

Notes : instead of us simping, how about he simps for us? am i right guys? also the start isn’t my favorite and a lil weak. also pt 2, sorry i’ve been dead for over a month now, i havent had motivation to write that much and school is ending which meant testing :) hopefully ill get my motivation back so i can pump out more fics

Ever since you were a youngling and padawan, your master and other jedi praised you for being the perfect example of a new jedi. You got all the training forms down quickly, you were in control of your force abilities and you were always on time to everything.

It wasn’t even hard for you to do so, it was just natural for you. So that’s what stood out Obi-Wan Kenobi the most. You and him had classes together, bunked near each other and advanced around the same pace. You two were knighted around the same time as well.  

You even helped Obi-Wan out when his padawan, Anakin, caused him stress and trouble. Especially during the Clone Wars. You were a very put together general and your clone squadron was highly renowned, so you were ready to go help 501st and, if needed, the 212th. In Obi-Wan’s eyes, you were perfect 

Now, here you two were, working together again. You were on Obi-Wan’s star destroyer and the two of you, along with both of your clone squadrons, were tasked to go check in on a planet. The Republic had gotten reports of Separatist forces trying to turn the planet against the Republic. You and Obi-Wan were standing around a hologram of the planet with points highlighted where there were attacks.

“I saw we spread our forces out in order to reach all those areas quicker,” Obi-Wan commented, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

You put your hands on your hips. “I agree with General Kenobi. Cody, go tell the men our plan. Once we get on planet, we’ll split into groups then and spread out,” you replied.

Cody saluted you and left, leaving you and Obi-Wan alone. Your gaze fell on Obi-Wan, who was avoiding it. “General Kenobi,” you said, breaking the silence.

His head flicked towards yours, a little bit of blush forming on his cheeks. “Yes General L/N?”

“I’ve been sensing your emotions shifting a lot lately, is everything alright?” You asked, your head titling to the side ever so slightly. Your question made Obi-Wan’s blush increase. 

“Uh,” he paused to clear his throat and think of a excuse, “it’s nothing, just some stress with Anakin is all.”

You hummed as a reply and nodded. “Well, we should go get to the transport ships.”

-----

The trip to planet was easy and so was splitting up. Your men, along with the 212th, were assigned a area of the planet to patrol. Once everything was evenly divided, there was still a little bit of land to cover. It was a flat plain of tall grass with a few tall mountain formations in it. You and Obi-Wan both volunteered to cover it with land speeders.

A transport ship dropped you and Obi-Wan off with two land speeders, once again leaving you two alone. You two prepped your bikes and small amount of supplies you had. The sun was close to setting on the planet and you two planned on only taking a few hours. You pulled your hair into a neat bun so it wouldn’t become a mess from riding your speeder. Obi-Wan watched you and how the late day sunlight made you look as if you were a golden goddess.

“Are you ready to go?” You asked, snapping him out of his thoughts as you mounted your speeder.

“Oh, yes,” he quickly replied, following your actions. The two of you set off towards the setting sun, scanners ready and eyes peeled for any separatist action.

A little while into your patrol, you were getting tired of being quiet. Twilight was setting in at that point. “Do you wanna talk about your stress with Anakin? I know you mentioned it earlier and it seems intense, at least from what I can sense,” you said louder than usual, since you were speeding through tall grass.

“Well, um,” Obi-Wan paused to think of a excuse again, “I think him and his padawan are pulling risky moves in their missions.”

“Don’t they complete their missions successfully?”

Obi-Wan mentally slapped himself. Anakin and Ahsoka were very successful their missions, of course you’ve heard about them. “Uh, yeah, well-”

“Bandits.”

“What?”

“Bandits, coming our way on speeders,” you said, switching the gears on your speeder so you could speed away. You turned right and Obi-Wan followed you. After a few moments, you two saw the bandits still on your tail. “We have to shake them!”

“Let’s split up! I see four, we can each take two,” Obi-Wan replied. You nodded and turned right again while Obi-Wan turned left.

You were doing fine until you looked behind you and saw one of the two bandits following had their blaster rifle out and aiming at your speeder. You gasped as they shot. You jumped right as your speeder exploded. Luckily there was tall grass beside you so you weren’t that hurt from the fall. You had to act dead though, you sensed the bandits coming to check that you were.

Obi-Wan heard an explosion behind him and looked, seeing your speeder blow up. His eyes widened as he thought he worse. He quickly made a sharp turn with his speeder and turned around, causing the two bandits following him to crash into each other in confusion. 

Obi-Wan sped over to where you were, seeing the two other bandits speeding over to him. He jumped off his speeder and grabbed his lightsaber, activating it. As the two speeders were barreling towards him, Obi-Wan simply inhaled and exhaled. Then raced towards them, slicing through both of them. The bandits jumped off their destroyed speeders and hopped onto Obi-Wan’s, stealing it and riding off. Obi-Wan stood their for a moment before deactivating his lightsaber and running to find you. 

You sat yourself up and rubbed your head. Obi-Wan quickly made his way over to you and crouched beside you. “Did they take your speeder?” You asked.

“Yes, come on. I think I see a cave not to far from here. We can stay there for the night and you can contact Cody. My comm link was on my speeder,” Obi-Wan answered, helping you up. Your hair was messy now from the fight and your clothes were dirty from falling on the ground.

“My comm link is a little bit busted, but I think the tracker still works on it. We can activate that once we’re safe,” you replied, following Obi-Wan as he lead you to the cave that he had seen.

--

Obi-Wan was able to make a fire while you tried to fix your comm link’s tracker. You two sat in silence, the fire crackling every once in a while. Obi-Wan watched as you worked, so focused on what you were doing. Some of your hair had fallen out of it’s bun, framing your face. Obi-Wan smiled to himself.

“There, I think I fixed it,” you said, breaking Obi-Wan out of his trance. You pressed a button and moved over to the opening of the cave. “It may take a while to reach the ship since the signal isn’t that strong. I think setting it over here will give it a better chance to reach.”

You sighed and leaned your head against the cave wall, a wave of tiredness washing over you. 

“If you want, you can get some rest. I’ll take first watch,” Obi-Wan said, moving over to where you were so he could see outside. You smiled as a thank you then closed your eyes. 

You were making it harder for Obi-Wan to ignore his feelings for you. Attachments were forbidden by the jedi. With you being the perfect jedi, he didn’t want to be the reason you messed up. No matter how much a struggle it was for him.

Only a little bit in his watch, he felt something heavy fall on his shoulder. He looked over and saw your head there as quiet snores escaped your mouth. Obi-Wan smiled then went back to watching outside. Though, it wouldn’t be long until he got tired and leaned his against yours as he fell asleep.

--

The morning light shined through the cave entrance and woke you and Obi-Wan up. Your fire had died out a while ago, only the ashes and burnt ground left behind. Your comm link was right where you left it. You got up tiredly and picked it up to check on it. 

Obi-Wan stretched a little while you looked around outside. Moments later, you went back into the cave. “There’s a transport ship landing right now,” you said, taking Obi-Wan’s hand and leading him out.

He felt his face heat up at your touch. You didn’t let go of his hand as you two watched the transport ship land in the field below. “Obi-Wan, one last thing,” you started to say.

“What is it?” Obi-Wan replied.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek before letting go of his hand and making your way down to the transport ship. Obi-Wan smiled and touched where you kissed on his cheek. He watched as you met up with Cody in the field and started to explain what happened on your patrol together. Obi-Wan sighed happily before making his way down to you. You were so perfect to him.

[aboardthehavocmarauder]

Beautiful Mischief [Pt. 9]

Bad Batch x Reader • Angst/Fluff/NSFW (yknow the whole deal) • Mechanic [hidden Jedi] ! Reader • Female reader

“You’re leaving soon?”

“I need to go on Kamino, and find the answers myself if Obi Wan hasn’t yet”

“Y/N I...I can’t have you kill yourself”

“Rey, I promise I won’t” Y/N reassures her vod without the blood as Reylen brought her into her embrace.

“Remember what we planned when we were kids?”

“Yes”

“You’ll meet me there...when it’s finally over”

Y/N squeezed Reylen in her embrace feeling her grip onto her cloak.

“I promise”

•

“You modified this rust bucket a lot” Crosshair comments as he helps Tech get ready to launch.

“I do what I can” Y/N replies sitting at her station checking on the diagnostics before prepping along with the two.

Hunter stares at Y/N from his seat sensing her tension, already making him worry as Echo caught on immediately.

“I have easy contact with Fives from the 501st, do you think we’ll need the back up?”

“The Bad Batch is the strongest out of the clones. I have faith we can handle this on our own. But you tell him if we need it, we’d give him the word” Y/N looked at Echo when she told him all of that, getting up and checking on a few things before launching.

“Wait for my call” Hunter informs Tech receiving a nod before following after Y/N seeing her simply take a minute to herself in the storage compartment.

“I know you’re there Hunt”

“Hmm. Thought I was stealthier than that”

“Not with me” Y/N watches him step in standing in front of her. “I’m okay”

“You’re not”

“I promise you that I am”

“Okay, well I’m not” Hunter admits taking Y/N’s face into his hands taking a deep breath giving her the second to do it herself as she carefully held his wrists. “We may face a lot more than just the Kaminoans. Could face the republic head on”

“Or Odious...”

“Or all of them. The republic was meant to protect you, but they failed to do their job and you’ve fallen. Yet that’s all they see. Ignoring all the recovery you’ve been through.”

“Hunter...”

“We risked our lives already, and are willing to do it again for your sake.”

“I won’t let anything happen to any of you...I won’t allow it” Y/N frowns looking him in the eye as Hunter slots himself closer feeling her hands move to his torso.

“I know cyar’ika” He says before pressing his lips against hers moving his hands to her waist keeping her close.

When the war is over

I want a life with you

And I don’t want to lose you before I can get that chance

Y/N leans into Hunter’s embrace in the comfort of his quarters as she hasn’t stopped thinking about the possibility of everything going wrong.

“Are you alright?”

“No”

“You can tell me what’s on your mind”

“...I’m afraid to”

Hunter frowns squeezing her a bit as Y/N held onto his arms pressing her back against his chest. He rests his head on her shoulder holding her until she started to calm down in his embrace.

“I’m fine with dying, Hunter. This isn’t just my fight but for now it should be. I don’t want any of you getting hurt because of my actions. Not anymore...”

“Like we’re going to allow that cray’ika” Crosshair interrupts the two’s private moment by eavesdropping and barging in.

“Cross”

“Okay since he decided to actually come in” Echo adds following the sharpshooter and sitting on the edge of the bed as Cross propped himself against the wall. “We won’t let you die”

“And before you start to argue. The first attack wasn’t just meant for Odious to capture you. Darth Maul had his own agenda. We would’ve had to stop him if we didn’t give a single fuck about you”

Y/N sighs leaning into Hunter more as she took Echo’s hand once it was extended to her.

“I can’t lose any of you”

“And we can’t lose you” Wrecker adds finally joining but staying out since him entering the room would make it claustrophobic.

“So we’ll fight until we win. And we won’t lose anyone” Hunter states.

Loves of my life

I will lay down my life for you

And you would do the same for me

But I can’t let that happen

Stepping onto Kamino felt like a mistake, but Y/N needed her answers.

“Something doesn’t feel right” Tech states following Y/N close behind her as she felt it. Something was off.

FIRE

Y/N ignited one of her sabers blocking a plethora of shots fired directly at her as Crosshair uses Tech’s shoulder to give him leverage with his rifle and took down the gatling gun firing resulting in a minor explosion causing the trooper manning it to fall. But Y/N caught them with the force giving Cross a look.

“We aren’t killing any body. Especially any of your brothers.”

“Y/N—-“

“They don’t know better. Good soldiers follow orders. Once the chip is revealed, with its flaws.” Y/N states. “The war will be over. Obi Wan failed to figure it out or he simply followed orders instead of caring about those in his life. I will fight my battle another day. But for now. I’m finishing this”

As the batch kept close to Y/N as she took lead walking over to the trooper that was orders to fire. She helped him up taking a step back before he could try anything.

“Who’s orders?”

“I have orders to not talk to you”

“Well then. Wrecker” Hunter calls watching Wrecker grab the trooper by the chest plate slamming him into the wall.

“Now. Who’s orders, reg?” Crosshair glares watching him struggle in Wrecker’s grasp.

“Chancellor Palpatine and General Obi Wan Kenobi” He continues to struggle before finally being dropped and before he could call it in. Echo grabbed his communicator tossing it to Tech to dismantle.

“You think the General is here?” Echo asks getting a tense look from Y/N as she retracts her sabers when the sound of hanger doors open.

Y/N stepped through the batch staring at the transporter ship making themselves visible. The doors close and the ship lands before the 501st and 212th poured out from the sides along General Skywalker and Kenobi.

“If you think you’re going to do anything to her—-“

“Shut up” Hardcase blurts getting smacked by Jesse for blurting that out loud.

“Excuse Hardcase, we’re not going to do anything to Y/N except bring her in under orders of the chancellor”

“Now what does the chancellor want, when the council has more a problem with me?” Y/N glares bringing one hand behind her and signaling Tech as he got to work with his visor. “Obi Wan. Qui Gon taught you better than this”

“Don’t you dare—“ Anakin stops when Obi Wan stepped forward.

“He did. But I believed in the order”

“Believed” Y/N frowns. “What’s stopping you from killing me like what many Jedi did to the sith and anyone that turned against the order?”

“Y/N but you didn’t—“ Echo frowns stopping himself when Hunter looked at him to.

“You, Y/N.” Kenobi frowns taking his cloak off causing an unnoticeable eye roll from Cody, his commander. “You were tortured. Under a control that you had no say in. I had to report it since you were once under our care and then not. You were controlled by sith. Everything had to be documented. Including the scans and labs we took. The chancellor wants us to take you in for questioning”

“Instead of solving the chip and who controls it. You care more about my factor in this? What a weird way of showing it. But I’m not going with you and I’m not hurting any of you to get away”

“So turn yourself in scum”

“Okay I will hurt him but the others I won’t” Y/N glares at Anakin keeping her hands away from her lightsabers knowing if she touched one, she’s a goner. “Hm”

“Y/N—“

“This is gonna take the hard way I guess” Y/N forced Anakin and Kenobi’s sabers into her hands before getting a head start into the building and before the batch could react, Tech had already deployed her BD unit to release a grenade that put an electric shock through the two battalions and generals.

“Let’s get going”

“How the fuck do you plan that?!”

“Tech is an analyst, Cross” Hunter laughs following Y/N as Wrecker grabbed Crosshair and Tech unexpectedly to hurry their pace.

Echo stayed behind for just a second staring at the battalions before quickly following. He hacked the door with his socket to make sure it stayed closed to give them enough time.

“You got a plan?”

“I know what I’m doing Hunt”

“Hm. Love this already” Crosshair laughs being set down when they reached the lab as Tech opens the camera on the BD unit with the datapad available seeing a few troopers coming through.

“They’re coming. What you have planned. Better hurry”

“And make it quick. I can’t always handle the hacking mechanisms in Kamino” Echo states already shutting down door by door as Tech kept them posted on the closer they got.

“HOW COULD YOU TRUST THIS—THIS TRAITOR”

“ANAKIN, SHE WAS MY PADAWAN. SHE WANTED THE LIFE YOU HAVE WITH PADMÉ AND GOT IT RIPPED AWAY FROM HER THE SECOND SHE LEFT THE ORDER. IMAGINE THE LOSE YOUVE EXPERIENCED TIMES A MILLION. SHE GAVE US ALL THE INFORMATION FROM HER ABUSER AND SO ON. EVERYTHING WE NEEDED TO KNOW AND I DIDN’T LISTEN TO HER. NOW SHES AN ENEMY OF THE STATE AND I CANT FIX THAT WITH MY INSTRUCTIONS TO KILL HER”

Tech froze hearing that last bit from Obi Wan from the cameras and seeing Anakin grow hesitant but a job is a job.

A job is a job

Taglist:

@xxeiraxx @meli-that-girl @Spp2011 @fennign

[blueburds-but-swtor]

A Quiet Moment

A one-shot of Fen and Zenith having some down time on Alderaan. I’ve had this in my drafts for a little while--and yes I absolutely drew this just for this fic lmao. Art w/o the fic here!

The fire had dimmed significantly. Stars hung in the midnight sky surrounding the Alderaanian moon, native insects quietly chirping in the near distance. The breeze gently lifted the fabric of the tent, and Fen emerged from its entrance. He poked at the fire with a stick, causing some of the ember-lit logs to crumble into ash. Then, with a spare bucket of water at his side, he doused it entirely.

Everyone was asleep, he thought, but the Force caused him to stir and awaken. The dimmed fire indicated that someone was still up, but he didn’t see any of his crew members.

He pulled up his hood and tugged his coat around him for extra warmth. Alderaan nights were cold—especially to someone who grew up on such a hot, humid planet like Nal Hutta. The climate here was certainly going to take some getting used to.

Fen moved about their campsite, boots crunching softly against the light layer of snow. He leaned against a tree and opted to use his abilities to try and sense any potential danger.

There was a presence, though it wasn’t hostile. It was mellow, but perhaps anticipating something.

He allowed the Force to guide him—and fortunately, the Force didn’t take him too far. Against the cliff, hidden amongst the trees, sat Zenith. Fen almost didn’t see him, though he would assume that’s what his companion would have wanted.

Fen’s eyes fell to the ground and checked for any traps the other man might have laid. Then again, if he did place any down, Fen was unlikely to find any. But he’d been heard; Zenith turned, casting a brief glance toward him before returning his gaze out into the valley below.

“Here to tell me it’s past my bedtime?”

“No,” Fen muttered, approaching cautiously. “I was concerned.”

“Nothing to be worried about,” Zenith said, shifting in place. “I’m keeping watch while you rest.”

“This wasn’t discussed—.”

“It wasn’t. I’m doing it anyway.”

Fen huffed softly. “When will you have time to rest?”

“I am resting.”

“Sleep, Zenith. You know what I meant.”

“I’ll find time in the morning.” A beat of silence passed. “You can come sit, if you want.”

Fen considered simply going back to sleep, yet it was brief. The man’s presence brought him a sense of calm—perhaps due to the bond they shared during battles. Seldom did they get quiet moments like these that weren’t in the confines of his own ship. The offer tempted him, and Fen gave into it. He traversed the path and took a seat beside Zenith.

“A little closer, otherwise you’re gonna be poking out.”

“Sorry,” Fen said, awkwardly scooting closer. “Did you often take watch-shifts during your time in the Resistance?”

“Not often, but enough. Enough to get used to the lack of sleep.”

“I understand the sentiment, but in a different way than you.”

“Big attacks called for lots of coordination, lots of prepping. Would have groups falling in at certain locations hours before the attack even started, just to make sure the Imps didn’t catch on to our plans. Called for overnight stays sometimes. So yes, I’ve got some experience in this.”

“I’m glad for you and Felix and your military experience. Strategy and—well, those sorts of things, haven’t been my strong area of knowledge.”

“It’s important to have different people specializing in different things. Variety is good.” Zenith adjusted his position, crossing a knee over the other. “Jedi, I... I haven’t been the most up front with you about why we’re here.”

Fen raised a brow.

“I got intel that there might’ve been someone here. Thought maybe I could make use of it.”

“Someone you know?”

“No,” Zenith huffed. “Not in a friendly way, anyway. The Imperial operative that killed Graystar. An old ally of mine from the Resistance caught his scent, said he was heading to Alderaan. Thought that I could maybe...”

“Avenge Graystar.”

“Avenge him, yes. Make the son of a Hutt suffer before he dies, make him think hell’s a paradise. And I don’t want to hear anything about how vengeance is wrong, Jedi. Lecture anyone else, don’t lecture me.”

“I wasn’t planning to. I relate to your want for revenge, even.”

“Then you won’t try to stop me?”

“I won’t, no. I might ask that I be with you to ensure you get the kill.”

Zenith’s brows rose in surprise. He huffed in amusement, a small smirk finding his features. “Wow, I—damn. Not the answer I expected from you.”

“Do you feel guilt for his death?”

“Maybe a little. I don’t know. I regret that I wasn’t there with him when it happened. It wouldn’t have happened if I was.”

“Your guilt may linger even after you kill the operative, but at that point, you will have done everything you could to avenge him. You can move on, focusing on greater goals. Perhaps the complete annihilation of the Empire.”

“Oh, I’m already working on that. That’s my priority, even. Vengeance is just kind of a side-thing.”

Fen smirked and Zenith mirrored his look.

“I wish you could have met him. He was inspiring, a great mentor. Reminds me of you in some ways.”

“You flatter me, truly.”

“I try sometimes.”

Another brief silent moment passed over them, Fen smiling in response. He enjoyed their discussions when Zenith was in the mood for conversation. He could be difficult sometimes, but Fen was patient. Perhaps a part of him was drawn to him because he, too, was Twi’lek. It was comforting seeing someone like him in his crew; it provided a sense of familiarity, though their upbringings were both quite different.

“You don’t talk about your own mentor much,” Zenith said, taking Fen out of his thoughts. “Sore subject?”

“Not as sore nowadays.”

“Don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

“I don’t mind. You know of Master Yuon Par, though she is not the source of my troubles. It was my master before her, Xadun Benai. He was drawn to the Dark Side, though he hid it well. There was... a trip, a ritual, involving blood and death. I killed him before he could finish it. I feared what would happen if he did.”

Zenith’s brow furrowed in thought and he leaned back against the rocks. He thumbed his chin idly, eyes narrowed in as he tried putting pieces together. “Thought I heard mention of some transfer to a different master, but I didn’t know your actions were so severe.”

“The Council granted me a second chance. I don’t want to waste it with Master Yuon.”

“You hold her in high regard. She seems like a good person. But I’ll bet you might’ve said that about Benai, huh?”

“He was my savior. He pulled me out of slavery to become his Padawan. I was indebted to him, and he always made certain to remind me.”

“Doesn’t seem like he truly liberated you, then.”

Fen nodded, frowning.

“Did you feel relief when you killed him?”

“I—no, I... felt terrible.”

“You still thought fondly of him, leading up to his death?”

“Out of manipulation, I suppose.”

Zenith nodded solemnly. “You’re uncomfortable talking about this. Let’s change the subject.”

“If that’s what you’d like, Zenith.”

There was a pause.

“Gui’on Syndulla. That’s my name, Fen.”

“I—oh. Yes, I see. I asked you for it when we met, didn’t I?”

“You did. Guess you’ve earned enough of my trust to know it. Don’t use it around anyone else, though.”

A smile touched Fen’s lips. “I won’t.”

[highsviolets]

fire, but sweet: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x f!reader (facetime javi au) 

summary: @obitwo requested i’m just thinking about javi tugging on my ponytail as a cute lil gesture and it’s making me way too soft hehe but also him pulling it to get Neck Access for Kisses™️

warnings: we are SOFT in this chili’s. none. 

a/n: i told claire it would publish this before midnight and I almost succeeded. **i know i am very behind on comments and i am so, so sorry. schools has been kicking my butt. the minute i turn in my last assignment on friday i am sitting down with a glass of whiskey  and responding to EVERY SINGLE ONE🥰** 

taglist form l series masterlist 

gif by @pvscvls​

It’s your turn to tackle linen duty this Sunday, having spent the past few hazy weekend afternoons at his while he irons shirts (the rare moments you’re not watching his lithe form from the couch, you’re in his tiny kitchen, meal prepping for you both. Lord knows the man doesn’t eat enough).

In-unit washer-and-dryer units are hard to come by in L.A., but somehow, when you had been searching for a new apartment a while back, this one had fallen into your lap. You suspected it had something to do with a client who was rather grateful about the press buzz about following their dazzling appearance at the Oscars, and when you had told Javi that on your second — third? — dinner date, he laughed, a rare moment of unrestrained joy springing forth from a deep-seated and virtuous hope.

“Is that so, baby?” he had asked, head tilting slightly as he regarded you from across the table. “You’re just one of those people that everyone else absolutely adores despite your best efforts; is that what you’re trying to tell me?” Fringes of dark hair curled around his forehead, wilting in the oppressive heat, but the chocolate eyes hidden behind those ridiculous amber-toned aviators didn’t waver, even as a smirk pouted his lips.

You kicked him under the table, looking away in the process. No, no no, you protested, fuck all that good girl shit, you know?

And Javier had smiled and sipped his drink, thinking all the while that he had never seen anyone as goddamn perfect as you.

—

Now, though, it’s a delicate, daffodil-laden spring, gaudy pops of color peeking through the gray skies — that delicate interposition between spring and summer, where everyone’s holding their breath for life to begin again. Indecisiveness splits the atmosphere, and you’re no stranger to its sway, swiping open your phone to switch from a podcast to your favorite playlist as you continue folding laundry. Heaps of cotton and spandex and dozens of other fabrics find themselves attended to with care and piled on top of the washer as you sing along softly, gently swaying in time with the beat. Javier’s in your bedroom, you know, assembling the new bookshelf you had ordered online from IKEA.

But your voice carries easily in the small space, and soon Javier finds himself raising his head in  unobtrusive, lingering wonder, grace stealing his breath for just a heartbeat (he surely doesn’t need it then, sustained by the way your voice wraps around a space for living and breathes into it the essential ingredients of vivacity in such a way that it stretches itself in utter luxuriousness).

It compels him forward, the simplicity driving him to abandon the mess of screws and boards littered on the floor and to seek you out instead. Your mysterious existence is far more important than material things, he feels, without possessing the words to explain such a phenomena.

And yet he feels it all the same (words exist to explain that which is already real, after all), and it only intensifies as he comes to lean against the doorjamb, watching you work and letting your voice wash over him like a tonic.

For several long moments he is content to bask in your presence, in the waves of life that emanate from the small space. But suddenly the mood shifts, fracturing under the weight of observance. Cracks form fissures that travel upwards into his spine, integrating themselves into his neuropathways and telling him that it’s not enough.

Watching isn’t enough; it’s too placid, too based in him and not enough in all that you are. Javier needs to confirm that you’re real — he requires the roughness of you under his own skin, your ridges and dips and valleys, to chart your cartography. And despite the weight of the moment — the moment he realizes that oh, god, he thinks he might be in — there’s a playfulness easing the load, replacing the gravitas with one of joy, not fear.

So he does what he believes he should have done far earlier and strides forward, the music masking his heavy footsteps, to stand just close enough to reach out. And reach out he does, his hand extending forward to wrap thick fingers around the latent strands of your messy ponytail and tugging slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to say hey you; i see you.

Your reaction does not disappoint, dropping whatever it is you’re now folding, hips shifting in order to pivot and slap his chest. He’s too quick, though, hands dropping away from your hair and gripping your hips, locking you in place. “You know,” Javi whispers, “you’re pretty cute when you do that.” It’s inadequate at best, but oh, he prays you can understand why his voice is low and smooth, crushed velvet to your silk.

It seems you do, leaning back into his embrace with a small hum. “I’m glad you do. My high school choir teacher didn’t think so.”

Javi’s laugh is warm against your neck as he brushes the hair aside and begins dropping open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. His left hand travels upwards, skimming your sides, to gently pull away your t-shirt, and you tilt your head back onto his shoulder to give him more access. When you hitch your breath at his continued assault on your sensitive skin, Javi ignores you, continuing to press kisses on any hint of bare skin he can reach. His mustache tickles sometime, as does his unruly hair, but you lean into the sensation, finding it comforting after all these months of learning how to love it.

They’re leisurely kisses, warm ones that feel like home. it’s an act for its own sake, an aristotelian method of the good, if you will. Simply there to exist. Much like the way you have taught him to exist through long nights and FaceTime calls at all hours of the day and shared grocery runs to make he eats and the way he carries you after work events, feet too tired after being in heels all day or now, spending a Sunday afternoon building a bookshelf instead of poring over work.

“Feels good, Javier,” you mumble, eyes drifting close in the security of all he is to you, but especially in this moment in your apartment, doing laundry on a Sunday afternoon. “Thank you.”

No, you think you hear him whisper against your skin, one hand still wrapped around your hip, thank you, cariña.

javi tags! @frannyzooey @littlevodika @a-seeker-of-imagination @catsnkooks @goldenkenobi @teaofpeach @goldafterglow @the-purity-pen @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @justrunamok @mitchi-c @huliabitch @yespolkadotkitty @rzrcrst @justanotherblonde23 @themarvelousbear @wille-zarr @ladytrashbird @tastefulmisunderstanding @blancatobarxoxo @chogisss @keeper0fthestars @stardust-galaxies @mcu-padawan @anakin-danvers @rentskenobi @artsymaddie @princessxkenobi @dracos-jedi-marvel @thirstworldproblemss @lv7867 @thewayofthemandalorian  @cri-me-a-river **let me know if you want to be switched around!! **

[siennahrobek]

Ahsoka couldn’t stop staring at him.

Vaguely, she knew some things about her lineage, although honestly, it always had felt like it was just her, Anakin and Obi-Wan. She knew a man named Qui-Gon Jinn had been Obi-Wan’s master, and that Anakin sometimes wouldn’t shut up about that guy. She knew that Count Dooku was Master Jinn’s, which was just so weird to think about, especially him being part of their lineage. Or supposed to be. It made some sense, on some level, she supposed, because Dooku had kept complimenting Master Obi-Wan, and she had even heard that the man tried to turn her grandmaster. It sounded ridiculous, Master Obi-Wan ever leaving the Order.

Master Obi-Wan didn’t talk about his own master that much. Apparently, he hadn’t even met Count Dooku until he had left the Jedi and the war was about to start. Anakin had only known Qui-Gon for something of a week and didn’t know him that well, despite the way he talked about him, one would have thought that he was not only Anakin’s hero but also knew him for a long time. She supposed it made sense that Qui-Gon would have had other padawans before her own grandmaster, he had achieved the rank of master and was around the age of sixty by the time he had died.

If Master Obi-Wan knew about Qui-Gon’s other padawans, he didn’t really say anything. Although then again, they had been in the middle of the war. There was not a lot of time for that sort of thing.

She wondered if Master Obi-Wan knew about Feemor.

Somehow, she kind of doubted it.

Ahsoka and Feemor had been sequestered in one of the rooms in the Healing Halls, as the glue on his cut was drying and she was trying to get her mind back in working order. She hadn’t answered him when he said he was Master Obi-Wan’s brother. She had just stared at him for a moment before completely changing the subject. He seemed to get a hint of some kind and didn’t pursue it. He told her that Rex was either prepping for or in the middle of a surgery, that it wouldn’t take very long as it was a rather straightforward and short surgery and explained a little more about the chips that had been in the clones’ heads. It made her sick. If Rex or any one of the 322nd had gotten those orders during flight…if Master Obi-Wan hadn’t warned her…she didn’t want to think what would have happened.

The fact that Commander Cody had attacked Master Obi-Wan seemed insane enough.

She wasn’t thinking of Anakin when she spoke again, and it had been nearly half an hour. There had to be something more to that. Perhaps he had a chip in his brain. Ahsoka couldn’t even imagine a thought on why Anakin would murder children without being forced.

“What do we do now?”

Feemor looked up at her, but he didn’t seem to have an answer. She figured he would suggest going back to the fight. It was a horrifying choice, she didn’t want to fight anyone, much less the 501st. They were her family too.

“We prepare,” a new voice replied, calm and stern.

Both Jedi glanced over. Rex was in his blacks, standing tall with a bandage slapped on the side of his head where the incision must have been. He looked scared and tired but determined.

“What do you mean?” Ahsoka asked.

“They have the near entirety of the 501st legion,” Rex pointed out, grimly. “Even with defensive positions and the defense of the Temple itself, the Jedi can’t hold out forever, especially with most of their warriors being out in the field with the rest of the troopers.”

“Evacuation,” Feemor pointed out, stroking his chin as he glanced at the floor in thought. Ahsoka stared, as it was rather reminiscent of Master Obi-Wan with the same action. “When Obi-Wan contacted Kamino before the battle started, he mentioned that we may have to flee. He also mentioned it when he talked to one of the troopers in the 212th, warning them about communications. I think he was certain we would have to. And I think he is right.”

Rex nodded, even though he had shot Master Feemor a look Ahsoka couldn’t identify. “Us three aren’t going to be a lot of help in the battle itself. We have to trust the leaders who are doing it for the moment to keep the others at bay. But we can get a head start on preparations for evacuation.”

“Obi-Wan’s 212th knows,” Feemor added, gesturing above them. “They are blocking all communications so they can’t get Orders. From what we can gather, the chips are activated when the Sith Lord says certain things and then can be activated if a clone trooper is near an activated chip of another. So right now, the 212th is relatively safe. The only problem is, I don’t think we will be able to contact them. If they followed Obi-Wan’s instructions, there is only one clone with communications, and I don’t think he will accept anything from anyone but Obi-Wan.”

“Let me guess,” Rex said in some sort of tone that was a mix of amused and flat. “Waxer or Boil.”

Feemor blinked. “Uh…Boil I think.”

“Knew it,” Rex muttered with a faint smirk. Given an odd glimpse, Rex just shrugged. “Pretty sure those two are General Kenobi’s favorites.”

“We should contact Jesse and the 332nd,” Ahsoka added, quickly. She already got up from her cot, a little dizzy, but continued to move. “We may still be able to save them.”

Feemor shrugged. “Alright. I’m sure Master Healer Che would be okay with us using her office for a holocall,” he continued, following Ahsoka into standing. Without another word, he turned towards the door. It took a few minutes to find her office – Ahsoka didn’t really know off the top of her head, but they did.

Ahsoka clicked in the number for her ship, Jesse and Echo’s forms popping up in the signature holo blue. “Commander!” Jesse greeted. “You just took a shuttle and hightailed it out of here. What happened? Were you going after Maul? You should have brought back up!”

Feemor glanced at the young togruta. “No. I didn’t go after Maul. Jesse, have you gotten any communications from anyone planet side?”

“No, sir. We blocked communications like you ordered. We weren’t entirely sure what you wanted after you left,” he admitted. “What is happening?”

“No, you did good,” Ahsoka assured. “There is a lot going on down here. I don’t have a lot of information but there are chips in every trooper’s head’s and the Sith has been using that to brainwash them into killing Jedi.”

Both Jesse and Echo’s face fell as they stared at her wide-eyed. “Tup.”

“Yes.”

“Fives was right then,” Jesse whispered.

“It appears so,” Ahsoka replied mournfully. “It seems the orders are transferred verbally from a single source and then passed on as one chip is activated, they all do according to proximity.”

“We need to get them out,” Echo hissed.

“I agree but things are…bad down here.”

“Bad?” Echo questioned, warily.

Ahsoka hesitated but Feemor answered for her. “The 501st legion is laying siege on the Temple, killing Jedi.”

No one said a word for a long minute.

Feemor continued, speaking in the silence. Ahsoka didn’t know what to say, how could she? “We are going to be evacuating once we can press the troopers back and have an opening. You need to be ready to flee when it happens. I’m very sorry but if you stay, the Sith will enslave you.”

“I understand, sir,” Echo’s voice was quiet and soft. “We will be ready for your communications and ready to come down and help if necessary.”

“Thank you, troopers,” Feemor replied. “We wanted to warn you about this before anything happens. A lot of soldiers are activated but please, don’t give away your location. We can’t help your brothers without a plan, and we don’t have enough people to do anything yet.”

“Understood, sir,” Jesse muttered.

“We have to go,” Ahsoka finally chimed in. “I will contact you soon.”

The holo blinked out. “I know that was hard, Ahsoka,” Feemor said quietly. “And we will save as many as we can.”

“We have supposedly been trying to do that for the entire war,” Ahsoka grumbled bitterly.

Rex came to the rescue. “We should move.”

“We should rescue Anakin.”

Feemor’s head snapped so fast, both nearly thought he would break it. “Save him?” he asked, with emphasis. Rex tried to get them through the door and out of the office. He mostly succeeded. “What does he need saving from, Ahsoka?”

“I think he might be chipped,” she replied, a bit defensively.

“You think he might be chipped.” Feemor echoed, flatly.

It appeared Rex didn’t really know where he was leading the two Jedi, but all he knew is that he needed to get them moving.

“Yes,” Ahsoka pouted, her lip curling. “He was my master. I know him. He would never do something like this.”

“He is leading a massacre on the Temple, against the Jedi, against his family,” Feemor added. Rex shoots an uneasy glance at the both of them, slowly working through the halls.

“He wouldn’t… there must be some explanation.”

“What possible explanation could there be for this?”

“You don’t know him!” Ahsoka snapped.

“You’re right. I don’t,” Feemor agreed, fighting to remain calm. Tensions too high would do them no good, even she knew that. But she was frustrated, and this was much all too difficult for her to understand or wrap her head around. It didn’t make any sense. “But I don’t need to right now. I saw him lead the siege on the Temple. I saw him cut down Jedi like they were nothing. You and I both saw him murder a defenseless youngling and young padawan. They were children,” he pointed out, bluntly. There was no sugar-coating the truth. Rex’s jaw clenched as he looked behind at the two of them again. Feemor shook his head and his voice softened. “This is what it means to be a Jedi, putting others’ lives above that of one, above oneself. You didn’t see the look on Obi-Wan’s face when he had to fight Anakin.”

Ahsoka stared at him, her feet moving without her even noticing.

“He knew,” Feemor shook his head softly. “And it was tearing him up inside. You don’t have to trust me or take my word for it, but you should trust Obi-Wan. He does know Anakin. Better than you.”

She hated that he was right; that if anyone knew Anakin, it would be Master Obi-Wan. He raised Anakin since he was young. But that didn’t mean she wanted to believe it. There was nothing to be said for a few moments before Rex stopped in his tracks and the two jedi nearly ran into him. “What is it?” Ahsoka asked.

“Do you hear that?”

Once they settled into silence, they could hear faint banging against a door. The three of them ran down the halls towards the sound. It became apparent once they got closer, the door moving as someone was throwing themselves at it, furniture and debris blockading it. They all looked at each other curiously. As Feemor and Ahsoka used the Force to move the debris, Rex readied his blasters. The two Jedi swung to the sides of the hall, just out of sight. As the door unlocked and opened, several troopers fell out.

“Good soldiers follow orders,” one of them mumbled.

Rex narrowed his eyes, slamming the butt of one of his guns hard against him, knocking him out. Feemor and Ahsoka ran into the brief fray as well, Ahsoka tangling around one of them to knock him unconscious while Feemor sent a wave of a force suggestion to the others.

“These are 501st,” Rex realized.

“The Jedi have been trying to trap them instead of kill,” Feemor answered. “We should get them to the Healing Halls to get their chips removed. Perhaps they can give us some information on how to stop the attack.”

Ahsoka didn’t look at him for a moment but quickly hooked her arms underneath a body to move it. Rex and Feemor had an easier time but eventually, they had gotten the troopers to the medical rooms. Ahsoka didn’t leave their side as Feemor found a med droid free and practically pushed the droid over.

The surgeries were quick and efficient; it didn’t take much.

When the first soldier came to not a couple of minutes later, he had immediately burst into tears which quickly turned into full out sobbing. Rex looked a little shocked but knelt at the soldier’s side. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay now,” he tried to comfort him. It was to little prevail, as the trooper just kept crying into his hands, his shoulders shuddering and his chest heaving heavily. Feemor reached out towards his presence and projected better feelings. Calm, safe, peace. It only helped a little, as it was enough that the trooper could get himself to speak.

“We thought we could trust him,” the trooper let out, gritting his teeth. He was quaking near violently, trying to gasp in breath. “We thought he cared. About us…but…he…he doesn’t.”

“What are you talking about?”

“What is your name, trooper,” Feemor approached and asked, quietly.

“CT-.”

“Your name,” Feemor urged, softly.

“Impulse, sir,” the soldier responded, trying to keep down his cries. The tears still came but the sobs had died down.

“Hello Impulse, my name is Feemor. Can you tell us what you mean?” he asked, keeping his voice soft, although the jedi was fairly certain he knew who the trooper was speaking of.

“General Skywalker,” Impulse winced. “He…he led us on the Temple. We just killed everyone. No one is safe.”

Ahsoka’s face twisted. “He may be chipped or something, like you. We don’t know what is going on,” she tried, quiet and gentle.

The trooper stared at her, wide-eyed. “He was so angry when the Jedi put down ray shields at the doors and he couldn’t get in quietly. And when the jedi there spoke, he got frustrated and lashed out. He took my brother’s head clean off. He was just…just standing there! No one could do anything, no one even could even flinch! His head and helmet rolled to my feet. He was my batchmate, my best friend!”

Rex put a hand on the trooper’s shoulder and muttered quiet apologies but everyone could see his body became as stiff as a board. Ahsoka was nearly in tears as she stepped back, wide-eyed and horrified and Feemor stood up and ushered her away and out of sight of the two soldiers. She shook her head again and again. “It’s not possible.” She sounded more like she was talking to herself than anyone else, trying to convince herself that it couldn't be true. How could it be true?

“We don’t know what is going on yet,” Feemor assured but even he knew he didn’t sound very convinced. Ahsoka was fighting everything. From what she had learned, the chipped clones had been trapped inside themselves, unable to do much of anything outside of orders. Unable to express or speak when wanting too. Anakin seemed to be the opposite. But how could what she knew of Anakin be so wrong? “Is there anyone you can speak to for any insights or answers?”

“Padme,” Ahsoka replied, in realization.

Feemor’s eyes narrowed, confused. “Who?”

“Senator Padme Amidala,” Ahsoka repeated. “She’s a friend to the jedi and Anakin’s friend.”

She said friend like it meant something different. Ahsoka was pretty sure he understood what she meant. Ahsoka bounced back into Che’s office, the older master on her heels. She clicked in another number, but it took a few moments for the youthful face of the Senator to pop up. Her expression washed away into something of relief and joy when she saw Ahsoka. “Ahsoka!” she greeted.

“Padme,” Ahsoka smiled. “I have a lot to ask you and I’m not sure if I have much time.”

Her face turned to confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I’m on Coruscant-.”

“You are? Have you seen Anakin?”

Ahsoka frowned. “You don’t know where he is?”

“He has been acting stressed for the past couple of days. Obi-Wan has seen it too, he came to visit me about him the morning before he left to Utapau. Anakin has been under a lot of stress and having nightmares…I don’t know…”

“Nightmares about what?”

Padme hesitated.

“You can tell me.”

“I’m pregnant, Ahsoka.”

Although Feemor was off screen, he and Ahsoka exchanged looks. He wasn’t nearly surprised as Ahsoka thought he should have been. Did he know?

“He’s been having nightmares about me dying in childbirth,” Padme confessed. “He said he had found a way to save me, even though I told him I wasn’t going to die in childbirth. The likelihood of that, here, is…well, it doesn’t happen. Ahsoka, are you alright? It looks like there is smoke and fire coming from the Temple.”

Ahsoka glanced down. How to explain this. “The clones are chipped and brainwashed. They are leading an attack on the Temple.”

Padme gasped. “How? Why?!”

“The Sith have control over them,” Ahsoka’s eyes darkened at the thought. “But…that’s not all. Padme, Anakin is leading them. He is killing Jedi, masters, Guards…younglings.”

Padme’s eyes widened. “That is impossible, he would never do such a thing. You’re wrong. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t!”

Ahsoka couldn’t meet her eyes, but Feemor caught hers, a silent question passing between them. She steadied herself and looked back up. “I’ve seen him killing younglings,” she whispered, voice hoarse. “I…he’s turned to the Dark Side.”

The Senator just stared. And stared some more.

“My apologies, Ahsoka, someone is at the door. I must take my leave,” her voice was just a bit wavering, but she somehow kept a straight face. Ahsoka opened her mouth to try and stop her, but Padme interrupted her with little emotion aside from a strained voice. “I will call you later.”

Without anything else, she turned off the call.

Ahsoka swallowed. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

[musewrangler]

One shot I did a while back in my Empire Reimagined Verse. Commander Fox leads General Veers’ security detail in my work post Jedi. Putting it here in honor of Commander Fox Week.

Prompt: Day 1–Loyalty

“What do you mean ‘nowhere’?” Fox clipped in very frosty tones indeed.

Goolsby visibly gulped as Fox moved the medic’s hand away impatiently while they tried to finish spraying bacta on the head wound.

“Sir, I’ve searched the area personally and deployed our men. I am prepared to go further, Commander, but I’m aware we’re on a time crunch, sir.”

Yes they were, kriff everything in the galaxy.

And here Fox was, as useless a runyip, having utterly no karking clue where his General was.

The action had been largely successful, but this was intended to be a swift strike. In, cause devastation, and out. The enemy would regroup-- and in larger numbers-- if they stayed.

This was the ‘loosening up’ action as Veers referred to it. A series of attacks on the planets and outposts within shouting distance of Nal Hutta. Make the Hutts nervous and unsettled--unsure of where the next attack might come.

What they did not need was to lose a kriffing General in the midst of all this. Fox had been right next to him, damn it! And then the karking denton had gone off and knocked him out.

And apparently in the fifteen minutes that Fox had been unconscious, they lost their General.

“Any of our speeder scouts that are still planetside, send out in the wide perimeter. Tell them they have twenty minutes.”

“Yes, sir.” Goolsby didn’t waste time and Fox was appreciative. The kid was getting there and he knew that the clone commander hated unnecessary dithering.

He rose to his feet over the protests of the medic and made his way to Travis. “Sir,” he saluted. “We are unable to locate General Veers. I have men looking now, sir but….”

Travis’s normally pleasant face became hard.

“What happened?”

“Not sure, sir. I was with him when a deton exploded. I can’t give you more information than that, Colonel.”

“Force damn it,” Travis said softly. “We have to be off planet in…” he consulted his datapad. “...43 minutes, Commander.”

“Yes, sir. I volunteer to lead a party to stay behind, sir.”

“Fox…” Travis rubbed a hand over his sweaty face. The fighting had been intense, and while successful, it had taken a toll. “We can’t leave anyone behind here.”

“Agreed, Colonel,” Fox said stubbornly. “I assume that particularly includes the senior General.”

Travis stared at him, then nodded. “Ok. I have to continue coordinating our efforts to depart. Comm the Admiral and get his permission. And….good luck.”

Fox saluted and ducked into the communications tent for some privacy. This holo call would not be easy.

“Commander.” Piett’s life size blue form flickered into being before him.

Fox took a breath. “Admiral. I am sorry to report that General Veers is missing. We are executing a broad search but so far have not turned up anything useful.”

A beat.

“Was he captured? Or injured?” Piett asked, mask firmly in place, but Fox knew what this news meant to the Admiral.

“Unknown, sir. I think it unlikely he was captured, sir, given where we were on the battlefield and the enemy were in retreat, sir. But given that we cannot raise his commlink or find him I am concerned that he is not conscious.”

Piett compressed his lips. “I could have a shuttle ready…”

Both of them knew he couldn’t. Fox said it for him.

“Sir. You have to withdraw---those are our orders from High Command.”

The Admiral closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them, it was the man, not the officer.

“He wouldn’t leave me, Fox….”

“I am fully aware of that, Admiral. Which is why I’m requesting that I stay to look for him on your behalf.”

And mine, his traitorous brain whispered.

Piett gazed at him for several seconds.

“Very well. Stay in contact, Commander. Anything, the smallest detail…”

“Yes, sir.”

“And the moment you locate him, I’m bringing a shuttle.”

“Sir….”

Piett stared at him challengingly. “The. Moment.”

“Yes, Admiral.”

The image disappeared. Well. It had gone better than he’d anticipated. If the man were a Skywalker he would have just gone off on his own rescue mission. Fox commed Scraps.

“You’re acting head of the security division, Lieutenant Commander. I’ll be here retrieving General Veers.”

He realized he was slapping a lot down on the kid’s plate.

“Ah….yes, sir. What…?”

“Goolsby will fill you in when he returns. And Scraps---you need to keep close to the Admiral. Don’t let him co-opt shuttles.”

“Would he?”

“The man has worked closely with Skywalkers for years. This is his closest friend. What do you think?”

Fox didn’t really think Piett would shirk his broader duties or flout his orders. But he was nothing if not prepared for eventualities.

Scraps sighed. “Right.”

Fox stepped out of the tent and caught Travis’s eye. He nodded and the Colonel returned it. Goolsby hurried up. “Still nothing, sir and….”

“I need a field pack immediately. With as many rations and medical supplies as possible,” Fox snapped. Goolsby raised curious eyebrows but knew that the look on Fox’s face meant no questions.

“Yes, sir.”

In short order he had donned a field uniform rather than his armor, and was shrugging on the pack and making a final check of his DC-17s.

Fox strode toward the edge of the woods where he and Veers had last been together. He found the blast area and began to search.

“Sir. We’re ah, prepping the last shuttle, Commander.”

He straightened, prepared to deal with Goolsby’s protestations. Instead he found that the young lieutenant stood before him with hand outstretched.

“Good luck, sir. Please bring him back to us.”

Well.

Fox grasped the hand. “I will. Report to Scraps once you’re onboard. He’ll be in charge.”

“Yes, sir.” Goolsby paused. “If anyone can find him sir….”

“I do not need a pep talk, Lieutenant.”

The younger man flushed. “Yes. Well. Good bye, Commander.”

“Thank you, Goolsby.”

Fox heard the last ship leave but didn’t bother turning around. He decided the best approach was to stick with his own observations---he knew they had searched this area but he was not a very trusting sort of person when it came to other people’s work. He could count on one hand the amount of people he trusted that far and that was frankly generous.

He had maybe four hours of daylight. He returned his attention to the churned up earth. A denton. They had both thrown themselves away from its shriek….

Veers had been standing there. Fox moved that direction and examined it. Nothing of import. All right. He could think of two options--either the General had been captured, or he was wounded and in hiding. But if the latter, why had he not made himself known once the enemy was clearly in route?

This…..concerned Fox.

And Fox did not like the state of being concerned.

He had a hard time wrapping his head around a way that Veers could have been captured over on this part of the field. Though the enemy had been retreating...Fox suddenly recalled the massive ground treader that had been crushing through the undergrowth fifty yards to their left. It had been covering for numerous troops as they made their way back to their lines…

If Veers had been flung far enough, and if he had been conscious, he would have needed to skirt that.

Fox made his way down the slight incline and followed the path of destruction further into the broken and twisted trees. He stopped and considered the tread tracks.

Here it went north. Veers would have stayed behind it and if there were straggling troops, he would have tried to stay out of sight. So it was possible he had been driven far out of his way to do so….

Fox found it rather helpful that he could reasonably expect the General to do what he himself would do in the same situation. This was of course, presuming he wasn’t dead.

For kark’s sake, Fox...

He mentally berated himself. That sort of thinking got one nowhere.

His comm blinked.

“Fox.”

“Anything yet, Commander?”

“Not yet, Admiral. I assure you, sir, if I had anything, I would contact you first.”

A sigh. “Yes. Be aware Commander that it is very likely the enemy will return to scout the battlefield. Exercise extreme caution.”

“Always, sir.”

“Then…..good hunting, Commander Fox.”

“Thank you, Admiral.”

He understood Piett. He would hate to be inactive as well. At least Fox could ease his worry in the search. The Admiral did not have that recourse.

And no. He was not worried. People died in battle---good people. High ranking officers and green recruits alike. It was a fact of life and Fox wasn’t about to get maudlin regarding that now.

So. If he was injured, and far from where he wanted to be, where would he hide?

Fox examined the underbrush carefully. And at last he was rewarded, if he could term it that. A smear of blood. Human no doubt, but he scanned it to be sure.

And it came up positive for one Maximilian Veers.

So he had made it this far.

“Where the kriff are you ,General?” Fox muttered to himself. He was a good mile from the battlefield now.

His stomach twisted in dread. Perhaps….perhaps he should not have been so quick to dismiss the possibility of capture. Wounded and alone---the General would be an easy target for several beings. Especially if they recognized him.

What if he was being tortured right now?

Son of a Hutt was he a Gungan? When had he become so emotionally unhinged?

Veers is far more competent than that, he told himself. Get a kriffing grip.

Fox straightened and considered the terrain. That bloody mark had come from a hand leaning against the trunk. Most likely Veers shoving himself back to his feet. Where would he go?

He looked back and then toward the east. If it was him and he thought enemy troops were still in the area….

Fox headed east. He would then double back to rejoin his troops. After about half a mile, the ground fell away sharply and he had to be cautious with his footing. The sun was low in the sky now and that would triple the difficulty. And he was well aware that Piett was correct--it was very likely the enemy would return to search the battlefield.

He realized that a small mudslide had happened further up the bank as though some unlucky devil had slipped….

He stopped breathing for a moment.

The incline was treacherous for a healthy man, for a wounded one….

Fox sprinted to the place and was rewarded with another substantial clue. An Imperial code cylinder. It was broken and partially covered in the mud, but he lifted it out almost reverently and then got to his knees to study the fallen earth. It was darker and muddier than the dry ground it had reached and... there.

A small trail of it was heading south.

Fox pocketed the cylinder and moved cautiously, not wanting to miss anything.

He rounded a curve in the bank which led back toward the thicker woods--and he could see more disturbed earth and leaves as though someone had clawed their way back up….

He moved swiftly up the embankment himself, flicking on the light of his blaster now, the trees making things much darker.

He nearly missed the shine of the black boot---it was filthy now with mud. But his peripheral vision registered the brief reflection and he was immediately plunging into the brush where Veers had managed to drag himself before passing out.

At least Fox hoped he was only unconscious….

He set the blaster down, allowing the light to illuminate the area and felt for a pulse. There---thready and weak but there.

“General,” Fox tried.

Nothing. He whipped out the scanner---Veers had some severe gashes in his thigh and side---no doubt the work of the denton. The cuirass had protected more vital organs, but his arm was badly lacerated as well. He’d lost significant amounts of blood.

Fox got his hands under the General’s arms and tugged him further into the darkness of the old trees.

*******

Hands. He should be concerned about that. But his brain wasn’t working right….so slow….he was so tired….

“General.”

He knew that voice. But it was dark….

Something hissed near his ear and he felt the cold on his neck. Something else was sliding into his arm with a slight pinch….

And clarity returned to Veers.

He squinted to see the face above him.

Dark and deeply lined, brown eyes looking seriously at his face, brow wrinkled in….worry?

Surely not.

“Fox,” Veers managed.

“That’s right, sir. Lie easy. I’ve got you.”

Strong callused hands cleaning his wounds and applying bacta before winding pressure bandages around his leg. His side protested as Fox unstrapped his cuirass to better get at the gashes there.

“Sorry, General, here.” Another hiss and the pain receded to manageable levels.

Had he known that Fox’s hands could be so gentle?

Veers shifted slightly and realized a drip was connected to his left arm.

“You’re….well equipped. What happened?”

“We were successful,” Fox replied, characteristically blunt. He examined the deep wound in Veers’ upper arm. “But we couldn’t find you. So. I came to do so.”

Veers mused on this.

“Fox are you….AWOL?”

The clone commander gave him a slight curl of the mouth. “No, General. I am here with both permission and orders. The Admiral could not leave the fleet, much as he wished to do so. Thus I am here on his behalf.”

A pause.

“As well as my own.”

“This is a big risk,” Veers said, considering how long they might have before their enemies came looking.

Fox grunted. “Worth it.”

Veers frowned and opened his mouth when Fox interrupted, opening a water bottle and sliding an arm under the General’s head.

“Sir. There is no scenario where I’m just going to leave you. Drink.”

Veers obeyed, marvelling again at the gentle competence of his security lead.

“Now, I have to comm the Admiral before he takes a shuttle on his own.”

Veers snorted lightly, but Fox wasn’t wrong. The clone flicked his commlink.

“Admiral, I have him.”

“And…?” Piett sounded like hell.

“He’s badly wounded sir, but…”

“I’m on my way. I’ll be sure to have the requisite medical staff.”

Veers and Fox exchanged a glance.

“When you say ‘you’ sir….”

“Scraps has already given me grief, Commander. I’m piloting the damn shuttle and we’re coming to get you.”

Judging by his voice, Piett was walking to the hangar bay as he spoke.

“Can I speak with the General?”

“Yes, sir.” Fox handed him the commlink and pulled out rations and thermal blankets.Veers half expected a tent.

“Firmus.”

“Max.”

Veers could feel the waves of his friend’s relief.

“I don’t like being on this end of things,” the Admiral said dryly.

Veers managed a small smile. “Yes. Well, I’d prefer if you were on that end more often.”

“I’d prefer for neither of us to be on this end, but that’s not the way our lives work. Regardless---you hold on General. I’m coming for you.”

And that. That was the way their lives worked. One did not leave the other behind.

“We’ll be here, Admiral.”

Fox took the commlink and then shrugged out of his duty jacket to wad it up under Veers’ head before covering him with two thermal blankets.

Veers watched him tiredly. “How did you find me?”

Fox came to settle beside him, holding the blaster currently providing them with illumination. “I... ah. I thought about what I would do, sir, if I were in your situation.”

Veers rather felt there might be a compliment in there.

They were silent for a time. Then Fox spoke.

“I’m sorry, General. I’m sorry that I lost you.”

He was staring at the earth and that wasn’t like the clone commander.

“Hardly your fault, Fox,” Veers murmured. “It was a denton.”

The other man clenched his hands tightly around his blaster. “Should have anticipated an attack of that nature.”

“Fox…”

“I know. I know I can’t do so all the time, sir. But I’m always going to feel responsible.”

Veers pondered the nature of this relationship---he was the General, Fox was his security lead. Both of them were very good at compartmentalizing--at doing the next thing regardless of cost. He recalled Fox’s eyes when he had first woken. The worry and relief…

“I understand that,” Veers managed, feeling so very drained. He closed his eyes and felt a warm hand land on his arm.

“Stay with me, General.”

“After all the... trouble you went to?” Veers said quietly. “Working on it. Just...tired.”

Fox’s hand stayed on his arm, anchoring him, until the hum of the shuttle’s approach sounded.

Piett’s face-- “let’s go, Max. Henley is keen to see you.”

Medics and a gravsled. The familiar hum of the engines in the Admiral’s lamda.

Scraps helping transfer him to the med bunk that had been pulled down in the passenger area. “Good to see you, sir.”

A pat on the shoulder from Firmus as he went by to resume the pilot’s seat. “The princess sends her love by the way.”

Then the pull of gravity as they lifted off the ground.

The medics were taking care of his wounds and Veers opened his eyes briefly when that familiar grip landed on his arm once more.

Fox had seated himself in the seat at Veers’ head. “Thank you, Commander,” Veers told him.

“You’re my officer,” Fox replied simply. But those strong fingers tightened slightly. Veers closed his eyes again and smiled.

Yes he was.

[daddywanken0bi]

Silent Treatment

gif is not mine

word count: 3.1k

author: Allie

warnings: angst, some gore, talk about death. There aren’t really any, just a lot of feelings.

a/n: phew, okay, first post. Don’t be nervous, Allie, you can do it. Ah! Hi! I’m new to this! Please enjoy!

“Why do I always seem to find you in the infirmary?” You ask a dishevled Obi Wan with a knowing hand on your hip. His gaze flies from the expansive transparisteel to your eyes, a broad grin stretching his face.

“Where else would you find me?”

“I don’t know, elsewhere in the Temple.” You respond, checking your data pad then scanning his body for any injuries. “Or the senate building, perhaps. I don’t spend all of my time here, you know.” He lets out a chuckle.

“I know. But as a Jedi, I nearly always have an excuse to visit the med bay, more so than the senate building.” He remarks, his grin never faltering.

“It seems you live quite an opposite life from me, then.” You gather first-aid materials from the cabinets. “Senator Organa has been piling on the work. It seems the only time I’m not at the senate building is when I’m volunteering here-“

“Is when you’re spending time with me?” He grins playfully. You roll your eyes, but you can’t help the smile tugging at you lips.

“Patching you up, more like.”

“How is the Senator, by the way?”

“He is well.“

“Good.”

“Kind of you to ask about my mentor, Master Kenobi.” You smile as you prep a swab with antiseptic ointment.

“Well, his status tends to reflect onto you. I just want to make sure you’re well enough to fix me properly.”

You toss him another eye roll. His grin remains plastered.

“Now. What is your excuse for visiting me this time?”

“Well,” He began, “Anakin and I were assigned to guard Senator Amidala - there were recent threats on her life, my Padawan and I were the only ones available, you know how it goes. Anakin kept insisting that we investigate the matter, and I had to constantly remind him that we were there to protect, not interrogate. He was still difficult. Although, I’ve come to realize that when it comes to the senator, Anakin gets a little too carried away.”

“Doesn’t Anakin have a habit of getting too carried away?”

“Why, yes,” He chuckles, “However, I fear he has grown rather attached to her…” Obi Wan’s expression morphs, his grin faltering as he gazes at you. But it doesn’t remain long enough for you to decipher it. He shakes his head.

“Anyway, last night an assassin released a pair of Kouhun’s into the senator’s bedroom. Anakin sensed them just before I did. He ran in and killed the bugs just as I jumped out the window to-“

“You jumped out a window?!”

Obi Wan’s shit-eating grin returned.

“I’m alright, darling. I’m alive, aren’t I?” His assuring tone sends butterflies to your stomach. You shake your head and chuckle.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stop unnecessarily putting your life at risk?”

“How many times have I visited the infirmary?”

“Obi Wan…” Your tone is stern yet compassionate, and he senses your concern.

“I’m sorry.” He says genuinely as he holds your eyes. You feel the butterflies flit around your insides again.

“Just don’t let me catch you back in here again anytime soon.” You finish patching up his face you don’t say anything about how he needn’t come to the infirmary for a scratch and he nods.

“I promise.”

“If you’ll wait just a moment, the doctor will be in shortly-“

“I think I’m alright,” He hops up from the bed and turns to you. “I only came to see you, anyway.” His eye drops in a wink and he jogs out the infirmary door.

*******

You should be paying attention, Representative Binks just moved to give the chancellor emergency power, but your mind keeps drifting back to what Obi Wan said to you in the infirmary: “I only came to see you, anyway.” You always knew that his injuries weren’t the only reason he visited the medical wing, but he never admitted it out loud before. And the fact that it was accompanied by a wink, well, the butterflies hadn’t stopped dancing since. You think about Obi Wan every day and every night, for that matter the whole week, and your mind is still spinning with thoughts of the suave Jedi. You wonder what he’s been up to, what missions he’s completed, what planet he’s on. And secretly hope he might dislocate his shoulder or sprain his ankle so he might remain in the infirmary for a few days when he gets back…

“Well, this is a terrifying turn of events.” Senator Organa’s words drag you out of your thoughts. You involuntarily hum at his exclamation. The senator turns to you.

“Have you been listening at all?” He asks, you wince.

“Not entirely, Senator.” He only sighs in response

“Will you be volunteering in the med bay this evening?”

“Only tomorrow.” You shake your head.

“Good. We have our work cut out for us. I need to send a message to Padme…” His voice trails as your mind returns to Obi Wan, your mind relishing in the sparkle of his eyes and the joy of his smile and how good his ass looks in those trousers. In all your years of knowing him, you only recently started noticing how handsome he truly is. Sure, he was attractive as a padawan, but it was more his humor and his nature that made you want to be his friend. However, as soon as he cut the braid and grew out his hair, he began to make you weak in the knees.

You would never admit it, though, at least not out loud, and especially not to his face. He is a good Jedi, dedicated to the council and the code. You are not convinced he would break it for an aspiring politician like you. So, you keep your pining to yourself, and cherish the brief moments you share in the medical wing.

*******

Two weeks after Obi Wan’s last visit, you get word of a devastating battle on Geonosis. Hundreds of Jedi dead, and the few survivors are to return in mere hours. Your mind instantly pictures your Jedi, the one you’ve foolishly grown so fond of. Had he been there? Did he make it out? Is he alive?

You tune your ears into the whispers buzzing through Senate. “Master Yoda came in with a clone army.” “Count Dooku is apparently a Sith Lord.” “Senator Amidala along with Master Kenobi and his padawan were captured and sentenced to be executed-“

Executed?! Your mind races against your heart, a neck and neck battle for the finish line. You bolt to the elevator, bouncing your knee and tugging the pendant around your neck, anxiously urging the machine to move faster. It reaches ground level. You don’t even bother looking for a speeder, the notorious Coruscant traffic will only hinder your mission. You run. No, sprint. With your shoes in your hand and the concrete hard on your feet, all you can think about is getting to the Jedi Temple as fast as possible, confirm that your Obi Wan isn’t dead.

The thought makes your heart shrivel inside your chest, and you aren’t sure if it’s the sting of the wind or your pain that pricks tears into your eyes. Obi Wan was permanent for you, a constant in your life. You wouldn’t know what to do if he were taken from you. Who else would brighten your day with only a smile? Who else would bring you such unconditional joy?

You don’t know how long it takes for you to arrive at the temple, but as soon as you do, you B-line for the docking bay, heaving and aching. You immediately spot Padme and Anakin being helped onto stretchers. You get closer and notice Padme has a gash slicing her back and Anakin missing an arm, but no sign of his Master.  

“Where is he?” You pant when you reach them. Anakin looks at you, reassuring yet unsurprised.

“He’s already at the infirmary. He’s in better shape than I am.” He winces and your heart rate slows.

“Oh, thank the Maker.” You exhale and express your gratitude before darting up to the medical wing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), I thought you didn’t have a shift today-“

“I’m here to see Master Kenobi.”

“Oh!” The receptionist’s eyebrows raised. “He’s just inside. He’s been asking for you.”

Asking for you. You barrel into the infirmary and scan the now-filled beds for the familiar strawberry blonde hair. You pan the room, eyes frantic until-

There he is, tucked into the bed furthest on the left, as disheveled as ever. Your shoulders drop in relief and his eyes meet yours. His grin splits his face as you approach him, like your presence is the only treatment he needs. All you can see of his injuries are a few scratches on his face and his arm in a sling. You are sure that isn’t the extent of them, but he’s breathing, and that’s all that matters. But it doesn’t ease the constricting under your ribs. You can tell he senses your concern and his brow creases.

“I’m fine, darling,” His voice is hoarse. “I’m going to be fine. The doc said they’re just flesh wounds.” Wounds. There’s more than one. “A few days in a bacta tube and I’ll be back to normal.”

“I heard you were to be executed.” Your lip unwillingly trembles. “I thought you…died,” You whimper. “I…I thought I lost you.” Your knees buckle. Obi’s smile falters and he reaches for your hand.

“You could never loose me, little one,” He brings your hand to his lips. “Never.”

You tear slips down your cheek and you stare at the hand that so gingerly grasps yours. Seeing him alive and intact should be enough to relieve you, yet you can’t help the nagging, tugging at your heart. What if you really had lost him? What if he was reckless? Or outnumbered? Or worse, what if he decided to play the hero and sacrifice himself? What would have been left of you then? Would he have even thought of you before drawing his final breath? Would he be as broken if the roles were reversed…?

You gently drop your hand from his grasp and you watch as his brow furrows. Without another word, you back away and slowly make your way out of the infirmary.

*******

It’s been days, no, weeks, you lost count since you last saw Obi Wan. This time, however, it’s on purpose that you don’t see him. On the day of his so near brush with death you vow to limit your interactions with your favorite Jedi. It would be easier to forget him that way. You cancel your shifts in the infirmary and dive head first into your senate work. And it’s not like you have to try very hard to do so: Senator Organa is swamped with messages and whatnot since the start of the Clone Wars, and can’t go through it all alone.

On day 15 17 18 locked in the senator’s office, you get a call from a rather frantic receptionist at the med bay.

“Please, Miss (Y/L/N)- there’s an empty bed in wing 5 -we are so short staffed and- the saline packets are already prepped -we could really use your help.”

“I’m sorry, but Senator Organa and I are overloaded with work-“

“If they need you, (Y/N), you can go.” The senator interrupts. Your eyes beg him to provide you with an excuse - you know if the infirmary is overwhelmed, then Obi Wan Kenobi is surely among the patients.

“But Senator, there’s still so much to-“

“Go.” He smiles knowingly. “I’ll be fine.” You fight the urge to roll your eyes. You know the receptionist on the other side of the hologram could hear the exchange with your mentor, so there was no way to wiggle yourself out of this one.

“I’m on my way.”

This time on your way to the temple, you’ll take a speeder.

When you arrive, it’s chaos. 50 clones are packed into the first wing of the infirmary, and you can imagine how many more congest the others. You grab the nearest datapad and quickly start assessing soldiers, determining who can be cleared and who needs to stay over night. You’re just finishing up with your 39th? patient when a familiar voice materializes behind you.

“You’ve been avoiding me, little one.”

You pause, blink slowly and let out an exasperated sigh. You discharge the clone, he was in better shape then most of his comrades, and muster all of the courage you can to face your Obi Wan. He’s banged up, but not nearly as busted as the last time he visited. However his most disturbing injury is that his usually sparkling eyes are shrouded in confusion.

“I haven’t-“

“Don’t lie to me,” He’s stern, “I can sense it.” Hurt flashes in his eyes before fading into selfless concern. He can see you’re struggling, but he doesn’t know why.

“Master Kenobi-“

“Darling, you can talking to me. Whatever is troubling you, please-“

“Master Kenobi, this is hardly the time or place-“

“I’ll come to your apartment tonight, then.” He tries to calm the panic in your voice and smiles warmly. “For a cup of tea.”

You can hardly focus the rest of the day. He looked so small, his usual confidence eluding him. You dare, for just a moment, to entertain the thought that he might be just as terrified to loose you as you are to loose him. But an incorrect stitch on a soldier’s wound immediately shakes it from your mind. As the amount of patients in the infirmary dwindle, the chief medic approaches you.

“Your assistance is no longer necessary, Miss.” He shakes your hand “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

“I’m happy to help.”

You make your way back to your apartment just as the sky starts to darken. You realize that Obi Wan never told you what time he would arrive. Of course didn’t, even without a schedule, his timing is always impeccable. You ponder what you might say to him. There’s no way to explain your recent behavior without confessing your feelings to him. But his eyes keep flashing in your mind; desperate, hurt, and confused. Is it at all possible he feels the same way?

You continue with your nighttime routine as if he weren’t coming at all. It’s better than just sitting and waiting at your kitchen table. You allow your body to take over and your mind to relax. The conversation you’re about to have is inevitable, there is no use fretting about it. You’ve been distancing yourself from him this whole time to lesson the pain of loosing him. Whether you lost him to his own mortality or to unrequited love, you are prepared nonetheless. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

You almost don’t hear the soft knock on your chamber door. You’d been staring into space for longer than you care to admit, lost in the beating of your heart in your throat. Your eyes flick to the door and you swallow the lump you notice forming.

“It’s unlocked.” You announce meekly. The door creaks, and a just as timid Obi Wan steps through.

“You really shouldn’t leave your door unlocked, you know.” He closes it with a soft thud. On any other day, you would have come up with an equally witty remark, but in this moment, all you can do is nod.

“Have you started the kettle?” He asks, already knowing the answer. He meets you in the kitchen and goes straight to the cabinet where the tea kettle lived. He’s been to your place countless times before. But this time, it feels like a stranger is in your flat. You’re silent as he prepares the pot.

“Tell me what’s on your mind, darling.”

“Obi…” You mumble. “I don’t know where to start.” Obi wan pulls two mugs from a top shelf.

“That day, after I came back from Geonosis, I’ve never seen you so upset.” He explains.

“I was.” You revel in how patient he’s being with you. You can feel how desperate he is for answers, but he isn’t pushing you. It’s in this moment you realize how much you’ve missed him, how wrong you’ve been this entire time.

“I was so afraid of loosing you, Obi Wan.” You begin, and your voice cracks. Obi Wan stops prepping the tea. You take a shaky breath. “I understood that the threat was always there, but being so close to actually loosing you…it terrified me. I thought that by limiting my contact with you, that fear would subside, I wouldn’t be so attached to you anymore.” You find his eyes. “I realize now how wrong I was.”

“What do you mean?”

“I realize that I would rather have you in my life and risk loosing you, than not have you at all. I’d rather risk my heart breaking everyday because I know you don’t love me the way I love you-“

You gasp. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. You’ve never said it aloud before. You swore you’d never say it to him. You watch his eyes widen and panic seeps into your veins.

“Oh, Obi Wan, please forgive me. I don’t want-“

In two long strides, his lips are on yours, his calloused hands gently, desperately pulling your face against his. You’re caught completely off guard, worried words muffled by his gesture. You would have fallen if it weren’t for his sturdy grasp.

But despite your whirring thoughts, your body melts into him, and you allow yourself to be held…kissed. Soon, your mind follows suit, and Obi Wan senses your relaxation. He relinquishes your lips, slow but sure, and eventually opens his eyes to meet yours, wide and searching. You bring your hands to hover above his chest. You’re trying to form words, but they escape you. All you can think about is Obi Wan stroking your hair behind your ear. You accept defeat, unable to express all that you are currently feeling, and place your hands on his chest.

“I am sorry to have been breaking your heart for so long,” He whipsers, “But it baffles me that you think I do not love you.” He rests his forehead against yours. “How could I not?”

“But the code-“

“Code be dammed.”

“But it’s illegal, Obi. You’ll be expelled.”

“Shhh, darling. That’s a conversation for the morning. For now, just promise you’ll never ignore me again. I couldn’t bare it.”

Relief, true relief, relaxes your shoulders and exhales from your mouth. You slide your fingertips along the linen of his tunic to his now shorter hair, pressing yourself closer to him.

“I promise.” You vow against his lips, this kiss gentler and sweeter than the last, lost in the bliss and the warmth that is your Obi Wan.

[gffa]

Hi!  As with literally any relationship in Star Wars, there are complications and things that are difficult, you could make a case that there’s unhealthy aspects to every single relationship in the franchise!  You can take any two characters that have any kind of significant relationship, especially with Anakin, and point out aspects that are Not Great about it, because that’s how SW is and that’s how Anakin is!  Literally every relationship he has, from Obi-Wan to Padme to his mother to Ahsoka to Rex, all have aspects that we can deem to be unhealthy. Take how George Lucas describes his relationship with Padme and Shmi:  “But he has become attached to his mother and he will become attached to Padme and these things are, for a Jedi, who needs to have a clear mind and not be influenced by threats to their attachments, a dangerous situation. And it feeds into fear of losing things, which feeds into greed, wanting to keep things, wanting to keep his possessions and things that he should be letting go of. His fear of losing her turns to anger at losing her, which ultimately turns to revenge in wiping out the village. The scene with the Tusken Raiders is the first scene that ultimately takes him on the road to the dark side. I mean he’s been prepping for this, but that’s the one where he’s sort of doing something that is completely inappropriate.“ --Attack of the Clones commentary “And of course that’s the problem with Anakin ultimately. You’re allowed to love people, but you’re not allowed to possess them. And what he did is he fell in love and married her and then became jealous. Then he saw in his visions that she was going to die, and he couldn’t stand losing her. So in order to not lose her, he made a pact with the devil to be able to become all-powerful. When he did that, she didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore, so he lost her.”  --The Clone Wars writers meeting It’s not exactly hard to see the unhealthy aspects of those relationships, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t real or that they weren’t good, too!  Now here’s how George Lucas describes Obi-Wan and Anakin’s introduction in Attack of the Clones, which is arguably where the movies give us the foundation of what we know about these characters: “[The] scene was needed in the elevator leading up to the Senate apartment, to more firmly establish the friendly, affectionate relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin.  ‘In that first cut,’ Lucas explained, ‘the student-mentor relationship between Obi-Wan and Anakin was pretty rough right away, which got everything off to a bad start.  Then, throughout the rest of the film, Obi-Wan is tough on Anakin, and Anakin is upset with how Obi-Wan treats him.  After seeing the movie, I realized that we needed to soften their relationship a little bit, so the audience would see that they are actually friends.  So I added this new scene in the elevator to establish that they actually like each other.  All the way through the movie, I had to find a delicate balance between their affection for each other and the tension that is always between them.’“  --Mythmaking: Behind the Scenes of Star Wars: Episode 2: Attack of the Clones [x] It’s not that Obi-Wan and Anakin’s relationship isn’t difficult, of course it is.  But that’s because that’s how relationships work, especially when you’re in the middle of difficult circumstances, as all the characters in Star Wars are.  But that’s not the same as not being good for each other! On a fundamental storytelling level, if Obi-Wan and Anakin weren’t friends, if they didn’t care, like, and even love each other, then why would the final prequels movie center the big climax around them?  It wouldn’t tug at our hearts, it wouldn’t hurt us, if we weren’t watched a tragedy, that these characters were falling apart, that in George Lucas’ words, is Anakin forcing his friends to act against him because of what he’s done.

This is a moment that breaks our heart because they loved each other. Even the writing by the choreographer of Revenge of the Sith was specifically designed around the idea that they were important to each other, loved each other, and that Obi-Wan was giving Anakin every possible chance:

The fight is literally written to show us that Obi-Wan is still trying to get Anakin back, because he loves Anakin so much. Their meeting again on the Death Star wouldn’t be this big, epic thing if we weren’t witnessing two people who loved each other and were once upon a time good together, now turned dark and twisted. Their final ending, seeing them together again in the Force, hearing George Lucas be heard saying that Anakin “had help from the other side”, wouldn’t be nearly as powerful if it weren’t a return to when they were good together, seeing Anakin standing by Obi-Wan and Yoda is powerful because it’s a return to the good person, the good friend he was, once upon a time.  The man that Obi-Wan remembers, when he’s talking to Luke about him in A New Hope. And it’s not hard to find evidence of that in the rest of the movies and the TV series:

Anakin loses his shit because he thinks Obi-Wan is dead, he doesn’t speak for days and is wrestling very hard with the dark side, would have killed Rako Hardeen if not for Obi-Wan’s memory, that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have wanted him to kill someone, and that’s the only reason he doesn’t. Palpatine wouldn’t be having such a field day with manipulating Anakin with this--telling him that Hardeen was last seen on Nal Hutta, specifically to go get Anakin riled up and stirring up those intense feelings inside of him, because Palpatine had to drive a wedge in between Obi-Wan and Anakin--if Anakin’s feelings about Obi-Wan weren’t important, just like how Palpatine used Anakin’s feelings for Padme to twist him around, used Anakin’s feelings for Ahsoka to twist him around. We also see that Obi-Wan cares very much about Anakin in turn, too, that he absolutely loves him.  Reserved people don’t always have to vomit their feelings everywhere to express themselves in the “right” way, but we very clearly see Obi-Wan express these things anyway:

When he’s worried about how Anakin’s sleeping, he takes time out of their duty to ask how he’s doing, and the expression he wears is very genuinely concerned, that is the face of someone who very much cares and is asking because they’re there for support. Obi-Wan’s advice, from what Anakin tells him (there’s no mention of these dreams being dangerous, we’re not given any indication that Anakin has visions/that this is a vision) is reasonable.  (And if we’re going to give Obi-Wan shit about this, we have to give double shit to Padme for saying, “It’s just a dream.” in ROTS despite that she knows exactly what Anakin did because of his dreams in AOTC.) Also in this scene, in addition to the moments in the elevator (where Obi-Wan deliberately is teasing Anakin because Anakin was spiraling emotionally, showing that he’s actually really good at jolting Anakin out of a panicked state), Obi-Wan sees Anakin start to spiral again when he says Padme didn’t seem to care that he was back, so Obi-Wan says to mind his feelings (GOOD ADVICE) but also cheers him up with, “But she was pleased to see us.” because he’s very much watching out for Anakin’s mood.

The entire point of this conversation in the Clovis arc of s5 is that Obi-Wan senses there’s a lot going on with Anakin and he makes himself available to talk, to tell Anakin that he needs to get a grip on himself, which is what a good friend does.  They don’t just blindly support you, they instead look out for you, and when you need to hear something difficult, they tell you, in a kind and supportive way, you need to get your shit together.  Because blindly enabling Anakin is a really bad idea, given what we know he’s capable of. This is why, yes, they’re at odds in AOTC, because Anakin is overstepping his bounds and promising things the Jedi can’t reasonably be expected to deliver on, he’s being bratty and so of course Obi-Wan’s reaction is going to be, “We will TALK ABOUT THIS in the CAR.” at him. In contrast, just a few minutes later in the movie, Obi-Wan’s cheering him up again, then later that night asking after him in concern, then they go on the speeder chase together and we get a visual demonstration of how well they actually do work together, that they both clearly enjoy the bickering and bantering. And there’s more good moments, too!

Obi-Wan easily and warmly smiles at Anakin in ROTS, praises him and tells him how proud he is of him, the whole point of including this scene is like the elevator one, to show us that they care about each other, they get along, they work well together, they’re good for each other when they’re around. It’s when Obi-Wan’s not there that Anakin does his worst things--when Obi-Wan is on Geonosis and Anakin on Tatooine, he murders the Sand People and their children.  When Obi-Wan is on Utapau and Anakin on Coruscant, that’s when Anakin goes off the deep end. Obi-Wan is an incredibly valuable counterweight to Anakin’s teetering towards disaster and, without him there, that’s when Anakin really starts to fall apart. Also, by the rules of how the psychic powers of Star Wars seem to work, you have to know someone really well to really feel their presence in the Force, that’s why (as Dave Filoni explained in an interview) Kanan can’t really be sure that it’s Luminara at Stygion Prime, because he never really knew her.  In contrast, he said, when Anakin felt Obi-Wan’s presence on the Death Star, it was like a battering ram, because they had been so familiar to each other. We see that reflected in small ways with how they pick up on each other’s psychic moods:

Or moments when they’re physically affectionate with each other in small, but very telling ways! These are all the more significant for the casual ease with how they touch each other:

And we see that Obi-Wan is actually really good with Anakin, as a teacher: When a young Anakin thinks that Obi-Wan doesn’t want him around (a pretty normal thing in a story like this), he explodes about it and Obi-Wan talks very openly and genuinely with him, about subjects that are pretty sensitive. He explains that he felt like he couldn’t help even a full grown adult, when Qui-Gon was killed by Maul, so how could he protect a Padawan that was entrusted to him?  He felt like Anakin would have preferred having Qui-Gon, which he explains without ever accusing Anakin of behaving badly, he never lays any of this on his student. He’s not just being kind, he’s emotionally available to Anakin, balanced with showing that one doesn’t have to be perfect even as an adult and yet still have their shit together.

And this works beautifully, Anakin lights up and understands what was going on, they solved the problem and work well together.  (This is the whole idea behind how they became The Team, you don’t get that level of complementing each other if you’re not good together!) This is important, because Anakin really, really needs someone who is extra considerate of him, because he’s not great at getting outside of his own head sometimes.  Oh, he has a wonderful heart and he cares very much about others, but sometimes it’s hard for him to parse what others actually mean versus what he thinks they mean, because his fears and anxiety tend to chew on the wires in his mind. Obi-Wan is a great teacher for him in this because he’s doing as much as is possible to work around that, to balance that Anakin needs a little extra help with the consideration versus that Anakin needs to learn to start trusting others. We see that this kind of dynamic continues into when Anakin has been Knighted and Obi-Wan still seeks him out to offer an ear to talk, to praise him when Anakin’s doing well:

There are no easy answers in this war, nobody has them, otherwise none of them would be where they are.  But Anakin feels intensely about the events happening in this issue, he has these intensely held beliefs, and Obi-Wan smiles and him and praises him for it, supports him in it.  Anakin becomes more focused and confident in himself because Obi-Wan helped nudge him in the right direction. We see that Obi-Wan is a good teacher for Anakin and a good friend.  I think there could be some debate about whether Obi-Wan should have been less his friend and more his mentor, but I often wind up circling back to how I don’t think that Anakin would have really listened to anything less than the careful line that Obi-Wan walked. I keep thinking about:  How would Anakin have reacted in a situation like this?

Where Qui-Gon seems to be shunting Obi-Wan to the side, despite just earlier in the movie he said Obi-Wan still had much to learn, but now he’s saying that Obi-Wan’s ready, because he wants to take Anakin as his Padawan? Obi-Wan understands this and gets over the sting, he knows that Qui-Gon cared about him, he’s able to get out of his own head enough to recognize that even if this kind of hurt, that Qui-Gon didn’t do it because he didn’t care.  Can you imagine if Anakin had been in this position?  If his Master had been so willing to set him aside like this and felt that he should get out of his own head long enough to see that it wasn’t meant as a slight against him? This is why I will always argue that Obi-Wan was the best choice for Anakin, because he stayed dedicated to Anakin even after his Knighting, because he was constantly asking after him and demonstrating care for him, while also working Anakin towards becoming more balanced.  We see, in stories like the Age of the Republic comics or in the early episodes of The Clone Wars, where Palpatine has less direct influence/when Anakin goes to see him less, that they tend to work things out pretty well, that Anakin rises to the occasion, like Obi-Wan knows he can. Maybe another Jedi would have been able to achieve that same balance, I certainly would have enjoyed seeing Yoda attempt it or maybe Mace Windu attempt it (their banter is delightful and clearly Anakin gets a charge out of it in TCW, he’s practically laughing as they “argue” in the Boba episodes), but certainly Obi-Wan was a great complement to Anakin and Anakin was a great complement to Obi-Wan. And, ultimately, Anakin knows that Obi-Wan loved him, he knows that even after EVERYTHING, he could still have gone to Obi-Wan for help and Obi-Wan would have listened.  Like when he has his vision in Darth Vader: Dark Lord of the Sith:

This is entirely Vader’s vision, he recognizes that this is true, that Obi-Wan would listen to him, would turn off his saber if Anakin asked him for help. These are two people who were driven apart and it hurts because they were good for each other and they liked each other so much.  Of course they had their issues, that’s true of every single relationship in Star Wars, it wouldn’t be an interesting story if they didn’t!  Obi-Wan believes a little too much in Anakin, Anakin doesn’t trust Obi-Wan nearly enough, etc. Mileages may vary, I’m not here to change your mind if you’ve seen all this, read all the comics and books and played the games, and still felt like they were never really friends, then that’s as valid an interpretation for you as all of the above is for me.  But this is why I absolutely do think they were great together, that the story showed them as great friends, as two people who were monumentally important to each other, to the point that even when they’d spent 20 years apart, they still revolved around each other.  That Vader wouldn’t shut up about Obi-Wan [x][x] and that even Obi-Wan’s death was still about Anakin, just as much as Luke [x]. And at the end of the day, man, these two clearly just liked the hell out of each other:

[capricornus-rex]

Someone Left to Save (15)

Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: The Mantis crew arrives to the capital of Ulfin, in the planet of Pevera, under siege. They meet the local rebel cell spearheaded by the former Republic admiral, Jax Beneb, who seeks to destroy the Empire’s occupation that was aggressively imposed upon while exploiting the planet of its natural resources. A plan is devised to destroy the Imperial’s main base of operations—as well as their influence—in the planet; however, it was a do-or-die mission that you and Cal had gotten yourselves caught in.

A/N: I’m almost done!! :D This was really a trip both in the story itself and getting the chapters published. Thank you to everyone who kept staying tuned to the story even if my predicament forced me to slow down my upload frequency. If you guys enjoyed most of the story, then all the trouble I went through was worth it! :3

Tags: Force-Sensitive! Reader, Inquisitor! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Fake Death, Jedi turned Inquisitor, Seduction to the Dark Side, Turn to the Dark Side, The Dark Side of the Force, Aftermath of Torture, Torture, Psychological Torture, Redemption Arc! Reader, Possible Redemption, Premonitions

Also in AO3

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 | Previous: Part 14 | Next: Part 16 | Masterlist

15 of ?

The plan's going swimmingly. Cal hasn't been caught yet.

He had sensed that Cere prayed he needn't to use his saber prior to his inevitable stand-off with you. So far, he's keeping true to that prayer. He carves a path to the nearest entrance he can find, from there, he discovers the southern exit; taking the posted Stormtroopers by surprise, he incapacitated them quickly befire they even realize what's standing in front of them.

"Cere, I'm in the building—I went through the southern entrance," Cal softly spoke through his comm.

"Copy, I found my way in the eastern wing," Cere explains that she managed to get her hands on one of the computers, splice it and fish out a lot of info. "I'm patching in the map to you, BD should've picked up the file by now."

Instinctively, BD-1 flashes the holomap in the air as soon as he received the data; it shows the locations of Cere, Cal, and their two respective destinations—the medical bay where the child is kept and the hangar where the presumed transport ship should be parked. There's a large, empty gap between where Cal stood and the hangar itself.

"I'm looking at the map now. There's a bit of distance to the hangar, it's on the upper levels too," he softly trailed off at the last word.

Cere noted the fading out of his voice, afraid that she's lost contact, "Cal?"

The boy blinked several times to return to reality. He stutters in his apology for spacing out.

"What's wrong?"

Finally, he opens up about his theory about the transport ship, he adds the lone TIE Fighter he spotted earlier and the underlying possibility that the pilot is you—not knowing that you really are. Cere considers the theory but preferred to go with the original plan; if the transport is truly a decoy, then they'll have to move fast in catching up to you before you even hop into the TIE Fighter with the child—assuming that your TIE Fighter is in a completely different hangar.

The silence of their conversation's conclusion was followed by the gloomy, ominous humming of the corridor that laid in front of Cal's eyes. The stale air that entered his lungs put a tugging weight on him, this place carries a certain degree of corruption that it's simply foreboding to anybody—most especially the Jedi. The sole thought of rescuing you is what kept Cal going; he stalked through the corridor, feeling for any activity in the intersections before going around the next corner.

Eventually, he's halfway into his destination but it seems Cere still hasn't put her diversion in motion. 

Cal peeks over the corner to find a cluster of Stormtroopers—a mix of regulars and scouts—in his path. Two scouts block the path midway while the rest of them stay by the door at the end. He hugs the wall, tugs the saber off of his belt, he stares at the weapons around his clammy fingers; after one deep breath, he bolted out of nowhere and rammed his way through, the dazed troopers barely made a proper aim—some cut close to Cal, others he banked right away. 

"It's a Jedi!" One trooper yelped the obvious.

The redheaded Jedi spotted one of the troopers making a run for a button on the wall. Outstretching his arm with his open palm, he hauled that particular trooper away from the button and then towards him, within a saber's reach he was cut down.

"I can't do this by myself!" The surviving scout trooper whimpered out loud, the warble in his voice huffing through his helmet.

The poor scout braved in charging towards Cal, charging up the electric current on his baton, but was denied a shot by a single, successful parry and then the Jedi followed up with an attack—cutting the enemy down instantly. He now stands before a large, sealed door, he checks the map once more and sees the distance between him and the hangar has shrunken. In the next second, a blaring alarm howling across the complex startled him.

"That ought to be Cere, I hope she has the kid."

Upon opening the door, Cal discovers the elevator lobby—which also serves as a control room. Two troopers had their backs turned to him, manning the computers, while a single KX security droid paces back and forth but its scanners immediately detect Cal's presence—causing its head to jerk to the boy's direction, while its emotionless eyes lit up the moment it saw Cal, the troopers felt the abrupt rise of tension and were alerted by the sight of a Jedi in the room.

"Inferior Jedi!" The KX droid monotonously groaned as it raises a pair of fists, ready to swing it down and bash the Jedi's skull.

Fortunately, Cal evaded the clobber and singes the droid's leg joints, literally bringing it to its knees. Shielding itself with its arms proved useless as the Jedi slices the torso in half, leaving only himself and the troopers. The skirmish was done in five minutes, the boy scrambles to the elevator and slams the button of the hangar's floor number. As the turbolift ascends, Cal takes the time to check on Cere, he kept calling, but there was no answer and he gives up when the elevator gradually slowed down.

The rumble signaled that he's reached his destination, the narrow door retracted into the frame, revealing Cal the vast space of the hangar—each wall was lined with light to medium ships, sitting at the center of the hangar is a transport ship, his ears prick up at the faint wailing of a child.

"Oh no…" he thought. "Cere's too late!"

He ran to the ship, the wailing got louder, then his eyes widened at the discovery: a comlink lies on the floor of the entry ramp, a prerecorded soundbite of the cry plays on loop.

It's a trap!

Behind his head, the baritone humming of a spinning saber flings itself towards him, he spun and deflected it at the nick of time—returning it to the sender: you, perched atop the hangar platform, waiting for your prey to take the bait and then strike. You catch your saber in mid-air while descending from the upper platform with a feathery grace. Striding closer to him, he sees you completely without the helmet for the first time: hair fashioned into an elaborate braid, the tail rests on one shoulder, and loose, wispy fringes frame your face.

"I see you've set off my trap," you pointed out, holding the saber close to your face.

"I knew you'd pull a stunt like that!"

Your eyes lit up, impressed with Cal, "Well, you've become quite smarter than I expected!"

Both Inquisitor and Jedi circled slowly against one another, not knowing who's chasing whom, gentle threats exchange with pleas of coming home only to be received with a hard "no," the tension grows in this wide, open space. Cal decides it's now or never, he attempts to talk it out of you.

"[Y/N], let's come home,"

"This is my home."

He hints at the somber tone of your sentence, almost as if you don't mean it at all, and he believed the insincerity of those words. You mask the denial by making the first move in the fight. The swirl of blades caught Cal off-guard, resulting to a flimsy block on his end; he moved away from the ship, luring you into the wider space for a better fight,  not that it changes much on each other's chances of winning this skirmish.

You barely paused from moving—a tireless lightning rod in human form—the swordfight pressed on in the hangar. For each time Cal struggled to put some distance between you so he can take a second to breathe, you always caught up to him—your frenzied eyes were always the first thing he notices the moment you start to dart towards him, with your arm prepped for an overhead strike and ready to attack. The strike lands, you withdrew and quickly follow up with another—thrusting your saber, he parried it with a subpar flourish and you staggered him with a strong Force push.

The boy flies to the farther side of the room, in your peripheral vision his lightsaber clatters away from him, his hand desperately pats the floor in search of the weapon while he had his eyes glued to you—closing the space at a fast rate. Still lying on his back, he affords a split second to catch a glimpse of his saber and pull it towards him; his own blade hovers mere inches above his neck when your strike landed as you crouch on top of him, bearing your weight on him while you've got him pinned down.

"I almost kind of like this position!" You crowed mischievously.

"[Y/N], please!" He pleaded again.

Without your helmet, Cal saw the life in your eyes better—if he saw wrath the first time, now he sees the misplaced anger and sorrow, the exact same feeling he found during his meditation. He even spots a hint of pink swelling beneath the rims of your eyes.

Has she been… crying? He pondered in that small window of time.

"You don't have to do this—your pain isn't strength!"

Your eyes flared again, but with denial you bellowed, "You don't understand the power that the Dark Side has given me!"

Generously, you withdrew, flipping away from him and landing in the same cat-like grace, giving him a chance to scramble back up on his feet. There was a time for a breather, enough for both. Again, the two of you slowly circle one another while a hostile air hangs over your heads, you point your saber at him.

"I didn't want to be as weak as I was before," you gesture your arms wide open. "And here I am."

"The [Y/N] I know was never weak to begin with,"

You paused in your tracks, slowly angled your head to face Cal, absorbing the empathetic gentleness in his voice. He could make his way through your heart faster than you could build a wall between the two of you. Unconsciously, the atmosphere seems to turn docile.

"I hate it when you patronize me!"

As quick as lightning, you attempt to execute a dashed strike but this time, Cal was prepared for it and he had been anticipating such an attack—he's been reading your every move up until you paused to banter with him. You strike again.

One.

Two.

Slash.

And another.

You jab, but he blocks. Another, and he prevails.

Eventually, he gathered enough strength and momentum, and became at par with the pace and dexterity of your technique. The clashing of sabers became more violent and heavier as the moves from both Jedi and Inquisitor became more pronounced—a contest of brute force. This sudden burst of strength wasn't much of a surprise, you keep up the assault and Cal surely isn't backing down—nor does he plan to.

A single beep of his comlink rings, "Cal, the child is secure! I'm coming for you!"

Cal saw your wide, aghast eyes glimmering with fear and panic, and perhaps a desperation that translates to "I need that child back!" which he felt all at once in that piercing glare when you shot him a look—with your bared teeth and furrowed eyebrows. Heeding to your lessons you, weaponized your emotions against the Jedi, you became a dagger in the wind—amplifying the heaviness of your strikes when it lands and the litheness of your body when eluding his saber.

Cere comes rushing into the hangar, saber and blaster in each hand, reassuring Cal in mere seconds that the child has been brought home.

"The Mantis should be on its way here by now," Cere whispered, her voice shuddered at the words.

She glanced to her side and then fixated her eyes to you—dressed in Inquisitor's garments from the neck down. In your periphery, you saw her blaster hand tremble with fearful disbelief; a secretive smirk played on the corner of your lip, as if to ridicule her shock, her first-time reaction amused you.

"Long time, no see, Cere." You crooned.

"[Y/N], good gods…"

"Oh come now, don't act so surprised. This is your second time anyway!"

A second Jedi wasn't any difficult, thought it's a fresh challenge instead of the typical one-on-one.

"Amazing, I get the privilege of seeing a cut-off Jedi fight firsthand!"

During Cere's attack that you held in a block, you examined Trilla's hilt up close—she had likened it with her old hilt by covering the sleeve with leather wrappings—you glanced at yours in its original form: blood red beams gleaming menacingly on either end, mingling with the purified, ice white blades.

You had to give Cere some credit, even after all these years of being voluntarily cut off from the Force, her muscle memory of combat is intact, incorporating her rugged style with a blaster.

"Impressive," you hummed after a parrying strike, and then another. She quickly switched to her blaster and shot twice, much to her dismay you've banked them seamlessly. "Most impressive."

Cere comes charging at you, ready for a jab, and you'd parry; just when Cal thought you have your attention to her, he attacks—more or less, attempt to—from behind but you duck and twirl, evading his lightsaber and planting a kick on his shin. This dynamic of alternating between the two Jedis lasted for more than a minute, a medley of attack patterns used against you—a handful of which have dealt damage on you, some missed you, but you enjoyed this death-defying thrill, it livened you up in this dull hangar.

Your mischievous, insidious grin stretched across your face melted when the entire hangar rumbled under your boots, explosions roared behind your ears; while holding your ground, you turned to find the source of the sound and found portions of the building are being reduced to shrapnel and inferno. Cere steals your smile and paints it with triumph on; you're not even that mad, you shoot her with a snarl of your lip, catching on with her little game, all the while impressed.

"Oh joy, you'll experience how I actually nearly died!"

You pulled away violently from the tangle of blades, pommeled Cere across the jaw with your own hilt, and pushed her at a certain distance.

"[Y/N]!!"

As the ceiling above your heads crumbled and rained dust, your lightning-fast flurry of the lightsaber did not waive; the boy didn't want to be outmatched—he cannot afford to, now that they're all standing inside a building on the verge of collapse—his dexterity and nimbleness spiked, adapting to your own caliber. Cal wanted to finish this as soon as possible, and he had to think fast; in his peripheral vision, he sees Cere bringing herself back up on her feet, dazed from your hit across her face, and then understood the gravity of her damage.

The garrison begins to collapse, any moment the entire roof will fall over your heads if neither Jedi nor Inquisitor shall stand victorious in this duel. In a final, colossal clash of lightsabers, both youngsters were encased in the sheen of their luminous weapons.

“[Y/N], come on, let’s go home,” Cal pleads once more.

“I can’t—” you choked, tears didn’t hide themselves from Cal, they streamed down your cheek as the stability of your grip fluctuated—influenced by the medley of emotions storming every fiber of your being. “I don’t belong there anymore!”

Despite the sheer intensity, Cal’s voice remained soft and gentle to you, as it always has. In a last-minute resort, he encourages, “You always have belonged with us, and we’re waiting for you to come home.”

Another tear streaks your face, your eyelids drooped, and then spoke in the most defeated, somber tone.

“It’s too late for me now, Cal.”

The crumbling ceiling groans, your eyes roll up and saw the reinforcement beam give way to two colossal chunks of debris plummet in a 50-foot drop from the ceiling straight down to a docked TIE Fighter.

“CAL, LOOK OUT!”

He didn’t fully see your reaction at the last minute; you pull him in and then push him away, but in turn,you got yourself closer to the blast radius. The hot wind picked you up into the air and flung your to the floor like a ragdoll, hitting your head upon landing, rendering you unconscious.

“[Y/N], NO!”

A sharp, piercing noise shrilled in Cal’s ears—all the other noises and voices are reduced to echoing gibberish, even Cere’s calling of your names—straight ahead, he saw you lying unconscious on the floor, covered in debris. He desperately crawled towards you, blatantly ignoring the hollow calls ringing behind his ears; he cradled you in his arms, ignoring the crackling heat flaring near his cheeks.

“[Y/N], come on…” he stuttered. “[Y/N], stay with me… I’m not leaving you a second time!”

He shakes you to coax you into waking up, he could’ve sworn he felt your body shuffle in reaction, he placed his forefinger and middle finger on your neck and found a pulse. He snaps his fingers and BD pops out a stim, he injects it straight into the flesh of your upper arm—you jolted and sucked in a lot of air at the same time, as if emerging into the surface from underwater.

Indeed, you were alive, but relatively weakened by the blast. Your voice saying Cal’s name was drowned out by the roaring flames and the thundering collapse of the garrison.

“Cal, we have to go now!”

Bursting with adrenaline, he scoops you up into his arms and followed Cere to the escape route; evading all the explosions as much as possible and keeping the enemy encounters to a minimum. Although, the evacuees are confused whether to engage the intruders—and presumably, in their heads, rescue the Inquisitor from the Jedi, but they’re felled by either the blasts or Cere’s blaster.

Speeding through the corridors, Cere led Cal to an open docking platform. The Mantis waits at the edge of the catwalk in a fly-by, lightly swerving to dodge blaster fire from the ground, and the entry ramp hangs open.

“Come on, you guys!” shrieked Greez.

Merrin waited by the frame of the entry ramp, the strong wind of the ship and the environment whip her fringes as she feels for balance while getting farther out. On the other hand, Cere and Cal—with you still in his arms—are almost to the edge of the catwalk.

“Come on, you have to jump!” cried out Merrin from the ramp.

Cal assessed the gap between the platform and the ship, it was a risky jump—one miscalculated step equaled to a hundred-foot doom.

“They’re gaining on us!” Cal screeched.

“You go on ahead, I’ll cover you and catch up!”

The boy paced back for momentum, buckled his knees when he slightly crouched, he fixed his grip tighter on you, and trusted his heels as he propelled the balls of his feet off the floor. The Mantis hovers at a considerable height by the edge of the catwalk that won’t send anyone hanging onto the edge of the ramp for dear life.

The soles of his boots planted flat on the metal floor and briskly trotted inside, settling you down gently on the couch, and then he joins Merrin by the ramp, watching Cere blast at the incoming Stormtroopers.

“Cere, let’s go!”

The woman produced a detonator out of her belt pouch and set it off. As a finisher, she gathered all the strength in her throwing arm, the bomb rolled towards the Stormtroopers’ feet and encased them in a cloud of fire and smoke. She quickly turned tail and made the jump, she scrambled on fours to get inside the ship and Cal slams the door button once she’s in.

“Punch it, Greez!”

Greez cranked the hyperdrive lever and sent the Mantis flying out of Jeddah, leaving the garrison crumbling to its destruction in their wake.

[dibleopard-writes]

Training Montage

Ao3 (recommended)

Description: Anakin was the Chosen One and therefore the best padawan anyone could ask for, especially Master Obi-Wan. He was so good, in fact, that he had plenty of time for shenanigans or, as he privately referred to them, Shenanakins. Force, he was clever. Several snippets from the training of Anakin Skywalker. Author’s Note: Fanfiction, in 2020? It's more likely than you think. I'm working on several Star Wars projects right now, and here's one that is far less structured with far less need for in depth planning. Original Upload Date: 2020-08-27 Fandom: Star Wars Prequels (post TPM, pre AotC) Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, various side characters Rating: Gen (or T for language) Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical Violence Word Count: 6490

Chapter 1 of ??

Chapter 1: Moles? In My Mine? It's More Likely Than You Think.

At the age of five, Anakin resolved to never be the kind of moody teenager spacers complained about. At the age of twelve, he decided that not only was that naive of him, but that he would get a head start and be moody right that second.

This change of heart was mostly due to Obi-Wan, who was refusing to take any missions offworld with him even though Anakin got his own lightsaber a whole three weeks ago and was therefore completely qualified.

“Having a lightsaber doesn’t help diplomacy, Padawan,” said Obi-Wan, completely missing the point.

“So don’t choose diplomatic missions! I bet there are hundreds of pirates hanging around… I don’t know, Batuu.”

“Batuu has smugglers, not pirates, Anakin–”

“– And?! We can arrest smugglers–”

“– And anyway, it would be irresponsible of me to take a padawan as young as yourself into a confrontation like that.”

“I’m not nine anymore! I’m not some dumb initiate, I can handle pirates.” If he was the first in his classes to fight pirates, he’d be able to hold it over them for ages. Even Iepa would have to respect him, smug son of a–

“I was still an initiate when I was your age.”

“Well I’m sorry you sucked, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go on missions.”

By this point, Master Obi-Wan had his head in his hands, almost hiding the beard he was trying to grow in order to look more authoritative. Anakin didn’t think he’d respect him any more with a beard than without, but it did make him look less like a clueless teenager so maybe he could fool the senior padawans.

“Look, if I took you offworld, not only could you get hurt or cause a diplomatic incident, but Master Windu would be on my back about it.”

Anakin muttered, “I could take him.”

“What was that?”

“I said you wouldn’t be able to shake him.” Anakin believed both statements emphatically. Sure, Mace Windu was the Master of the Order and invented an entire lightsaber form, but Anakin was the Chosen One, which basically made him the best. That being said, if Master Windu put his mind to it, he could be annoyingly stubborn in his pursuit of wrong-doers.

“My point exactly, and if he decided I was irresponsible – which I would be – we’d both be Temple-bound for months.”

“Oh, so you get to leave and I don’t?”

“Yes, but I’m sure you noticed I haven’t left because I’ve been too busy looking after you.”

“And what an amazing job you’ve been doing.”

“Watch your tone, young one.”

“Tell me, Master, do you remember any of my allergies?”

“Allergies?” Obi-Wan stopped for a second, with a look of genuine concern and guilt working its way over his face as he failed to recall information that Anakin had never given him.

“Yeah, I’m allergic to you and your banthashit!”

“Language, Padawan!” There was something resembling anger in Obi-Wan’s glare, but to acknowledge that would be sacrilege and also a suggestion that Anakin cared, which he didn’t. To prove this, he stormed into his room and used the Force to slam the pneumatic door as pneumatic doors rarely do.

Force, Obi-Wan could be insufferable sometimes.

...

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, Anakin came to the decision that the only real resolution to this conflict was running away and being a Jedi without Obi-Wan to bring him down. 

Fortunately, he had spent the last two years building his very own ship and had already put it through an entire test run without anything breaking. Between his technical expertise and thorough testing, the ship was probably the best in the entire Temple hangar.

First though, putting his stealth skills through their paces in order to get there. One doesn’t survive nine years of slavery without knowing how to move silently. The swoosh of the door may have been a bad start, but his slow navigation of the common room more than made up for it. Sure, Obi-Wan was in his own room, probably, like, crying over getting owned so hard, but if Anakin had made even the slightest mistake, he would have come running and demanded a ridiculous amount of meditation on respecting others. The stakes could not have been higher.

He crept out of their rooms and into the corridor, shushing the mouse droid that seemed to regard him judgmentally despite its lack of eyes. From there, it was a simple matter of carrying himself with unquestionable confidence along a convoluted path to the hangar. He passed a few senior padawans with dead eyes and piles of holopads in their arms without raising suspicion. Man, was he good at this.

The hangar was probably the best place in the Temple. Warm Temple stone met flame retarding durasteel in a way that shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Several decade-old speeders lined up against one wall next to a small fleet of cargo ships and fighters. All of them were horrendously out of date and well worn in the way that a lot of the Temple’s technology was. When Anakin asked why the Jedi insisted on having such terrible tech, Obi-Wan had said something vague about budget and not being materialistic. It was unconvincing at best and Anakin had really shown the whole Order up with his latest project.

After his no-doubt legendary podracer was left on Tatooine, Anakin had taken all of six months to set his sights on building a starfighter that could take him to every system in the galaxy. Obi-Wan, relieved to find a hobby that would promote focus, had pulled some strings and Anakin had aimed akk-dog eyes at the Temple mechanics that he had been tailing for months until they let him at the skeleton of an old Delta-7. Aethersprites never came with their own hyperspace engines, but he could work with that. Annoyingly, the sublight engines in the hangar were nothing like the ones on a podracer so he had to spend a humiliating few weeks with an old mechanic to get them installed and working. On the positive side, there was an astromech droid fitted directly into the ship that could give him diagnostics and occasionally a mechanically-themed joke. The jokes were hit-or-miss but the droid was good.

Two years of sterling work had made the Delta the best ship in the Temple, and it could far outpace any of the speeders in Coruscant’s skylanes. Now, as he made his way ever-so-innocently towards it, he couldn’t help but admire the way the smooth paint looked among the chipped facades of the rest.

R4-P3 chirped a greeting as he hopped in and prepped the starter engines.

“Hi, P3, fancy going on a trip?”

“THERE WERE TWENTY-SEVEN TRAFFIC CODE VIOLATIONS DURING THE PREVIOUS FLIGHT.”

“Me too, buddy. See if you can find one of those hyperspace rings lying around here.” Ignition was smooth. Vertical repulsors engaged. Landing gear retracted. So far, his plan was flawless. A blip appeared on his screen, indicating the nearest hyperspace ring. Latching onto the ring was not something he had ever practiced before, so he assumed the strange rattling noise was normal.

As he ascended, chatter buzzed into the comm system.

“What’s that P3?”

The chatter cleared into actual sentences as P3 adjusted the frequency.

“-ing is not fitted properly. Repeat, Aethersprite Delta-7 please identify yourself-” Anakin flicked it off. Trust traffic control to kill his flow.

“PLEASE KEEP TO DESIGNATED SKYLANES,” bleated P3, taking up the burden instead. Anakin dodged a passing CorSec speeder.

“Will do,” he lied, “While I find one, you wanna do the hyperspace calculations?”

“DESTINATION?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t thought that far. Tatooine was probably weeks away, Naboo had way too much water just lying about– Where else had he been? Oh, that’s right: nowhere, because Obi-Wan didn’t care about him. “Batuu?” He could probably beat up a few smugglers in the name of justice before the Jedi caught wind of it. Talk about selfless heroism.

He hit the upper flight levels and powered through into the mesosphere. Considering the thin air at this altitude, there was a lot of turbulence. The shaking was beginning to make his arm buzz and it became a disproportionate effort to keep the control-stick level.

“LIGHTSPEED CALCULATIONS COMPLETE,” announced P3.

“Great, just in time,” replied Anakin, flicking some switches, at least three of which were relevant, “I’ll just make the jump now.”

As he pulled the jump ignition, P3 began screaming and the rattling grew louder. The pinprick stars became needle-thin lines became the whirl of blue and white he hadn’t seen since the last journey from Naboo. On that trip, the pilots hadn’t let him in the cockpit during the initial jump, so this would probably have been way better if not for the awful clatter of the hyperdrive and the eventual tear of engines sputtering out of commission. Maybe that was why he had never seen anyone make jumps in-atmosphere. Or perhaps the issue was related to the ring’s latching mechanism. Really, it was anyone’s guess.

P3’s wails had become spluttering, staticky sobs, which was honestly a poor display in a droid with no fear subprogram. The ring flew off the Aethersprite, plunging it back into normal space with a roar.

“Well that sucked,” Anakin said indignantly. His flying had been flawless, too!

P3, between choked bleeps, lit up the speedometer – the hyperspace ring was no longer pushing them beyond the light limit but neither had any reverse-thrusters been engaged, leaving them at a healthy constant speed of only-just-slower-than-light, which was probably fine – and the scanner – there was a planet about thirty light-seconds in front of them, which was probably less fine at their current speed.

“Okay, so it still sucks,” Anakin amended.

He slammed on the brakes and almost blacked out as G-force slammed on him in return. Rude. His old pod-racer never had this issue. He tried easing their deceleration more slowly, which involved less blacking out but also made slowing to pedestrian speeds before hitting the planet somewhat less feasible.

No matter; Anakin was an expert pilot and even more skilled at having incredible luck. This would be easy.

Within twenty seconds, they hit nature’s drag chute: the atmosphere. P3 tried to draw Anakin’s attention to their steep angle and high speed as if these weren’t things that Anakin already knew. They did seem more relevant when the entire ship’s hull flew alight, however, so he attempted to shallow out their descent. 

The control-stick was uncooperative and everything began to shake as he tugged it as far back as he could. How was he supposed to pilot if the ship refused to do what he wanted it to do? 

After five long seconds, the heat died and they plunged into a cloud bank. Everything past the tips of the Aethersprite’s wings was obscured by a white thicker than Obi-Wan’s skull, which was impressive if disorienting. He felt the control-stick hit full lock and a few of the many warning indicators seemed appeased.

Another five seconds, and P3 stopped screaming about their speed and started screaming about their altitude. The clouds remained steadfast.

“I’ve made an executive decision,” declared Anakin, “As captain of this ship, I say we attempt what we in the industry call a ‘terrain-assisted braking maneuver’.”

P3 did not respond particularly coherently, which Anakin chose to interpret as a vote of confidence. It did wonders for his self-esteem.

In a blink, the clouds vanished and a deep green forest appeared. P3 squeaked. Anakin grimaced. His hand was losing all sensation from gripping the control-stick so tightly, still in full lock, but their downwards momentum still overpowered the thrusters even as the Delta’s nose finally rose above the horizon. He gunned the accelerator away from the surface and his body felt heavier than the ship itself.

The ship jolted as it made contact with the treetops. Anakin switched to reverse-thrusters as the nose once again pitched downwards. Slugshot snaps crackled around them as trees snapped against the ship. He scrunched his eyes closed and braced.

Soil and splinters erupted as they collided with the ground. Anakin lurched painfully into his safety straps. P3’s voice cut off. The grinding of earth against hull slowed them to a stop and Anakin fell back against his seat.

Smoldering wiring filled the cockpit with an awful acidic smell so he tugged his straps off and pushed his way out after only a second of shaky breathing. Anakin was nothing if not practical.

“Do you think it’s gonna blow up?” he asked P3 from a safe distance. P3 seemed not to appreciate the thought but ran cursory diagnostics anyway.

As he waited, Anakin looked behind the ship and saw the gaping furrow they had left in the ground. Further away, a clumsy cut ran through the trees and a couple of wisps of smoke trailed lazily into the milk-blue sky.

All in all, an impeccable landing. The forest had looked well dull before anyway, and now it had a sick scar. You’re welcome, forest.

P3 decided that nothing was about to explode, but that the ship was fully inoperational, even if Anakin just wanted to take it on a spin to the nearest mountain range. He acquiesced that the assessment seemed about right, but also loudly proclaimed that P3 was a killjoy and a coward. P3 didn’t seem to care. Anakin kicked a clod of earth in defiance.

The ground was covered in small, stiff leaves from the pointy-looking trees around them. They were waxy little spits that more resembled star stripes than anything useful for photosynthesis.  As he knelt to pick some up, he realised that the entire forest smelt like them – a fresh, emerald sort of smell. They were pretty incredible, for leaves; Anakin had certainly never seen anything like them. He shoved some in a belt pouch.

Now that he was looking at the ground, he noticed wooden, grenade-like things peppered amongst the leaf litter. This forest kept on getting more and more curious. Unfortunately, none of them would fit in his pouches. Jedi really needed some good pockets that could fit any important scientific discoveries in them. It was a severe oversight, in Anakin’s humble opinion.

Something rustled abruptly, snapping Anakin out of his Jedi-like contemplations, seed-pod still in hand. He scanned the surrounding thickets. Plants, plants, leaves, plants, thorny plants…

Claws!

A blur of red flew at his face and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a bush. Batting the wild beast away from his face, he felt himself fall further than anticipated through the undergrowth into empty air. For a suspended moment, all he could see was blue sky and grey rockface. Then his back collided with something that promptly gave way and let him fall onto solid stone.

Perfect.

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi was walking at an unpanicked pace through the halls of the Jedi Temple and casually inspecting child-sized nooks and crannies in a manner completely befitting of a master who knew exactly where his padawan was. He had been doing this for half an hour and wasn’t shaking in the slightest.

He was just doing a routine inspection of the gap between a bronzium statue and a wall when Master Windu walked past, stopped, watched Obi-Wan innocently test the screws on a ventilation covering, and said, “Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan sprang upright. “Master Windu.”

“Have you lost your padawan?” Was he really that obvious? No, that couldn’t be it; Master Windu was just unusually perceptive. Perhaps shatter-points were giving him away – nowhere was it written that they didn’t highlight underperforming masters. Even so, it was probably wise not to confirm anything. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was a council member judging his guardianship skills.

“Oh no, not at all. I know exactly where he is.”

Master Windu’s expression was as flat as Anakin’s heart rate would be once this was over. Shatter-points were dirty snitches.

“Thank you for your concern, Master,” added Obi-Wan, respectfully.

Master Windu looked at him dead in the eye for a solid five seconds. Obi-Wan had seen him level a similar look at Qui-Gon several times in the past, and found it unnerving to now be the target. However, Qui-Gon’s experiences taught him that it was best to ride these looks out like a bad spice trip, i.e. with as little motion as possible. How either of them knew what a bad spice trip felt like was irrelevant.

The five seconds were up, only having been slightly uncomfortably stretched, and Master Windu blinked.

“Well,” he said, dryly, “Good luck with your endeavours, Knight Kenobi, whatever they may be.” With one spare glance to the ventilation covering, he continued down the corridor.

Obi-Wan was not naive enough to think himself completely free of suspicion but he was hopeful that nothing would come of it until he could thrust Anakin by the shoulders into Master Windu’s personal space and say ‘See? I have him right here!’ in a serene and Jedi-like manner as if he had nothing to prove. Of course, he would like to prove his capabilities anyway. Just as soon as Anakin was present…

He closed his eyes and fumbled for the Master-Padawan bond that connected him to Anakin. It wasn’t usually strong enough to get much other than vague impressions from, but now it seemed to be stretched thinner than usual, only telling him that Anakin was alive. That was a relief to know, to an extent, but also concerning since there was so little to point him in the right direction. He poked the bond and felt nothing.

Why had he taken on a padawan? Padawans get into fights and then run off and make you worry and then the Council finds out and then you have to try and justify it all and – 

Obi-Wan sighed. Running a hand over his beard, he peered down the hallway that Master Windu had taken. Empty. He could probably make it to the comms centre without any more councilmembers calling him out.

Probably. He was hopeful.

...

“Hilari? Is that you?” 

Anakin looked up from what appeared to be a now-dismantled porch tarp and saw an old man opening the door to its attached house, carved into rock. A tooka was watching him from behind the man’s legs. It meowed indignantly.

“I’ve told you, the awning isn’t designed for tookas.”

“Myaeeh,” complained Hilari.

Anakin, frazzled from both of his unplanned descents and shocked out of his irritation, opened his mouth to apologise because yes, Obi-Wan he is capable of apologising when a middle-aged twi’lek woman materialised.

“Wohrin, what– Oh! Who’s your young friend?”

“You’ve met Hilari before, Mahj–”

“No, the young man covered in your porch. Blond?” 

The man, Wohrin, gave Mahj’s left lek an exasperated look. His eyes were pale the same way Blind Man Mikah’s had been in the bookmaker’s in Mos Espa.

“Mahj,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what colour your hair is, let alone that of whoever it is you’re referring to.”

Mahj shook her head. “I don’t have hair, Wohrin.”

“What?!”

Another twi’lek, who could have been anywhere between fifteen and thirty years old by Anakin’s poor judgement, appeared in order to chip in:

“Yeah, she lost all of her hair when the sky turned red!”

Anakin squinted at the sky… no, it was definitely still blue. Wohrin looked equally confused, which was somewhat reassuring. Somewhat.

“Keht!” snapped Mahj, “Stop lying to people! And no, Wohrin, you know I’m twi’lek; of course I don’t have hair.”

“Twi’leks don’t… Why am I only just learning this? Was no one going to tell me–”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Anakin effectively drew the growing crowd’s attention back to himself. That felt better. Wohrin blinked, only now registering that the crash hadn’t been his tooka after all. “I was in the woods and something jumped out at me and I fell through your… thing.”

“Oh, well,” huffed Wohrin, “Easily done I suppose.”

Anakin clambered to his feet and hopped away from the mess, feeling only slightly guilty.

“Hey what’s with the weird rat-tail, kid?” came a voice from the crowd.

Anakin fixed the human who had asked with a patronising look. He found such looks were incredibly effective when used by children – especially those younglings he was stuck in aurebesh lessons with three years ago. Kriffing infuriating.

“It’s not a rat-tail, it’s a braid. And it shows that I’m a padawan.”

“A what-a-wan?”

“Oh, I know what they are,” chimed another bystander, “One of them beat up my cousin on Alsakan. They’re like really small Jedi.”

“You mean an apprentice?”

“Yeah, only I don’t think they do carving work.”

“Not all apprentices learn stonemasonry, genius.”

Another crowd member interrupted: “Hey, cadaban, have you come to help with the beast?”

That triggered a fervour in the onlookers, all snapping their attention back to him with loud expectation.

“... The what?” Anakin wasn’t sure he liked the way this conversation was going.

“The beast!” exclaimed the crowd.

“It’s massive–”

“–Taller than me–”

“–Big claws–”

“–In the quarry–”

“–The mine–”

“–Tentacles–”

“–Blue–”

“–Hang on, I thought it was red–”

“–It’s invisible–!”

“–No, it’s not, it’s–”

“–Firebreathing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” shouted Anakin over the clamour, “Has anyone here actually seen it?” Everyone turned to a tall ovissian, who flinched. “What does it look like?”

“Uh, I didn’t see much of it, just– um, mostly heard crashes and saw– saw rocks falling from the ceiling in the mines. But when I caught a glimpse, it sort of looked all–” He made a vague and thoroughly unhelpful gesture which may have indicated size. Or maybe temperament. “–Y’know?”

Anakin definitely did not know, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the congregation. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said instead. The ovissian sighed with relief. “And what exactly do you need me to do about it?”

One exasperated person shouted from the back. “Kill it of course!” 

“Or at least move it out of the mines,” offered Mahj.

“Yeah, we need the mines or our economy will go to chisk!”

“The entire economy?” Anakin couldn’t imagine mines being quite that important when there was a massive forest right… Huh, it was higher up than he remembered. Right up a stone cliff, the one Wohrin’s home was carved out of.

“The entire economy! We’re a mining town, stone-masons and blacksmiths. Why else would build our houses in a quarry?”

This was the first Anakin had heard of ‘quarries’. Really, the whole trip so far had been quite the broadening of his horizons. He didn’t know why Obi-Wan didn’t take him off-world sooner, he was always promoting this kind of thing. Peculiar. 

That being said, this whole beast business was not what he had been anticipating and the idea of facing an invisible, firebreathing, tentacled monster on his own was suddenly way more terrifying than the plan of facing a horde of smugglers had been. What if it was like the krayt dragons of Tatooine, wild with impersonal ferocity and an appetite for small humans? That would be an incredibly anticlimactic end for the Chosen One; he was fully anticipating his death to be in a great ball of flame, Obi-Wan watching heartbroken as his awesome and flawless apprentice fulfils his destiny. That would be cool. Dying alone in a mine in the middle of nowhere would not be.

“Um… You know, beasts aren’t really my department. And… I don’t have my beast-removal equipment with me right now.” Airtight excuse. Foolproof.

“You’re just scared!” exclaimed someone who nobody asked.

“He’s not even a proper Jedi yet,” added someone else, “There’s no way he could take that thing on by himself, I bet he doesn’t even have a laser-sword!”

“Now, hold on–” All thoughts of avoiding the beast flew out of the metaphorical window. “I never said I wouldn’t do it! I have my lightsaber right here:”

The crowd stepped back as it ignited in his hand. Yeah, that’s right, he wasn’t some dumb initiate and this was his chance to prove it.

...

The comms centre had several private rooms for important calls and conferences. It also had better hardware than the commlinks Jedi took into the field.

Obi-Wan had plugged his own commlink into a rarely-used port in the console and tried to call Anakin. As he had expected, there was no answer. With the right tinkering of the console’s receiver, however, the target signal had been traced to a sparsely populated planet barely a minute up the Corellian Run. Kaidestal.

He fought the urge to slam his head against the console. If there was a licence for padawan ownership, his would be revoked any time now. Truly, he was having a fantastic day.

He wondered how Anakin had even got offplanet and then wondered why he was wondering. At this point, it was suffice to say, ‘Shit’s fucked’ and move on.

After a few moments of meditative breathing, he straightened up, unplugged his commlink, and whisked out of the comms centre. Knowing Anakin, there was little time before something disproportionately drastic happened. Force, what did he do to end up in this position?

Master Plo Koon was easy enough to locate, happening to be beside the bronzium statue Obi-Wan had been inspecting earlier. He watched as Obi-Wan covered the awkwardly long stretch of corridor in order to get within civil conversation range.

“Master Koon, I am taking a short trip to Kaidestal. I shall be back by nightfall.” He gave no reasons, the man of mystery that he was, and Plo didn’t seem to mind. Plo was one of the gentlest councilmembers and therefore the best one to inform of unannounced, unauthorised trips to obscure planets. Perhaps that was exploitative of him. Perhaps his padawan shouldn’t run away.

(Plo was one of the first to hear Mace’s gossip regarding Skywalker’s potential disappearance and therefore knew damn well what Obi-Wan was doing. Plo was not, however, a snitch. Besides, he liked Kenobi – the man had an excellent taste in drinks.)

Master Koon nodded slowly, “That seems reasonable. I’ve heard they do good stone carvings there.”

“Quite,” said Obi-Wan, impatiently – no, Jedi weren’t impatient. He was merely preoccupied.

“There’s a G8 light freighter in the hangar that you can use.” Plo shifted as if to move, but it was really more of an invitation to leave.

“Thank you, Master Koon.” Not at all in the headspace to overstay his welcome, Obi-Wan began to head towards the hangar.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, young one!” Plo called after him.

“Me too,” muttered Obi-Wan under his breath. He wasn’t that young; he was twenty-eight. He was, however, too young to be dealing with feral padawans that made him feel twice his age. Why did he ever pick up Anakin, anyway?

...

The mouth of the mine was carved into the wall at the bottom of the quarry. It was darker than a Tatooinian night and he was being pushed into it by a gaggle of villagers who didn’t seem to notice his apprehension. While this was ideal for the maintenance of his reputation, it also made things move far more quickly than he had wanted.

No matter. He was a Jedi and Jedi faced terrifying monsters head on.

“This beast is gonna wish he never saw me,” he said, bravely, “Coward. Absolute… kriffin’…  clown.”

“What are you doing?”

“Old Jedi trick, it’s called psychological warfare. That beast is no match for Anakin kriffing Skywalker.”

“Is the swearing necessary for psychological warfare?” asked one of the group. “It’s just I brought my daughter along…”

A roar emanated from the mine ahead, echoing terribly. The tall ovissian, now wearing his head miner’s helmet, was shaking more than the nine-year-old behind him. She was delighted by the mine monster and had spent much of the walk loudly exclaiming that she wanted it to eat the entire goddamn quarry. No one else appeared to share her enthusiasm.

“Well,” said the head miner, sounding awfully authoritative, “I think you’ll be able to find your way from here. We need to go. For… health and safety reasons. Yeah, this crowd, in this passageway? Major fire hazard. Need to clear it. I’ll take care of that, you take care of–” Another roar erupted, punctuated by a thud and the sound of rocks falling. “– That.”

Anakin was unimpressed. “Ugh, do you have to have such an aversion to being cool?” He turned to see the group’s response but found the passageway empty. He rolled his eyes. Teenagehood would suit him well, he decided.

Slowly, he took his new lightsaber off his belt. It kind of sucked that his excellent craftsmanship was impossible to see in the gloom. Alone, in the dark, with no eyes on him, he could admit that quite a few things were looking decidedly uncool right now, but Force if he didn’t want to prove Obi-Wan wrong.

He tracked the sporadic tremors to their source, which was conveniently down the single, unbranching passageway in this section of mine. Still, it required a great amount of skill and a lesser man would have walked into five support beams, which was way more than Anakin’s three. He was a credit to the Jedi Order, really, even if they couldn’t see it.

Speaking of, the mine had grown far darker the further he walked until he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. The Force was being unhelpful, merely suggesting ‘forward’, which was a no-brainer. His issue was all of the obstacles involved with ‘forwards’. If only he had packed a light.

Hang on.

Oh, Anakin Skywalker was a genius. Lateral thinking and creative problem-solving had always been his strong point, as currently being demonstrated.

His lightsaber ignited with a kzhhh. Its electric-blue glow lit his maniacal grin in harsh clarity. It also revealed the glinting eyes of something big. The grin dropped from his face as he took five steps backwards.

The passageway had opened into a small cavern without him noticing and the beast barely fit into it. Colours were difficult to make out in eerie saber-light, but its fur appeared as black as the mines, matte with dust. Large tentacles stretched out from its nose, blindly groping the walls and ceiling of the cavern as if trying to judge the environment. Massive, shovelling paws held claws almost as long as Anakin was tall. In short, it resembled a mole.

This meant that, theoretically, Anakin was at an advantage since he was decidedly not blind and had only been known to resemble a mole some of the time.

The beast was also more clumsy than Anakin, knocking support beams left and right. Luckily, none had completely shattered but, judging by their splintering fractures, it was only a matter of time. Time limits were very dramatic; this would be a worthy first mission.

Anakin waved his lightsaber in the vague direction of the mole. It was unbothered. He frowned, put out, and then poked one of its claws. Suddenly, the beast was very bothered. Its nose went from snuffling around to being thrust in Anakin’s face. Apparently it had his scent. Obi-Wan would have blamed it on Anakin’s infrequent use of the shower. Anakin would have responded that he grew up in the desert and then accused him of not caring about wasting water on trivial matters. This would put a glint of annoyance in Obi-Wan’s eyes and Anakin would count it as a victory.

The mole exploited his distraction, dishonourable as it was, yanking him off the ground with a thick face-tentacle and shaking him irritably. He tried hitting the disgustingly writhing mass with the hilt of his lightsaber – ineffective. Then he slashed it with the blade and got catapulted into a wall. His vision failed and the back of his head killed, but he was quickly grabbed by the ankle and dragged across the floor. Massive, sharp claws came swinging at him. This was not good.

Quick, what would Obi-Wan do?

“Hey, you suck!” he shouted, voice wobbling as he dove out of the way of another slash, “No one likes you! You should just stop and go away!”

The mole monster may also have been deaf since it only continued its previous level of violence despite the scathing insults. He dodged a claw, jumping into a swinging tentacle which smashed him into a support beam. Splinters pierced his robes, digging into his right arm as it collided with the beam. His lightsaber flew from his hand and he fell to the ground, spinning to narrowly avoid landing on the hurt arm. All light in the cavern vanished as his saber-blade extinguished.

All of a sudden, the lightsaber argument from that morning felt like a moot point. A lot of things were looking very moot now, in the dark. 

He could hear the shuffle of tentacles searching the floor and the scratching of claws against stone. The mole was snuffling loudly around for him. His arm hurt.

Fighting the urge to curl up by the wall, he slowly climbed to his feet and looked the monster dead where he thought its eye could be. Warm air huffed in his face, blowing his braid back. Everything was still for a moment and then a tentacle whipped around his knees and flipped him upside down into the air. He definitely did not yelp.

The sound of a lightsaber igniting came from the tunnel, then pounding footsteps and then Obi-Wan ran in, illuminating the cavern walls around him. Something intangible yanked Anakin out of the mole’s grasp and into Obi-Wan’s arms. 

Anakin struggled to escape the strong left arm that wrapped across his torso, efficiently immobilising him. “Hey, I had it under control, you know.” He gave up, reaching his good hand out and calling his lightsaber back to it. “Still do, actually.”

“Sure,” replied Obi-Wan, not letting go even as a tentacle lunged at him. He jumped backwards, slashing the support beam that Anakin had dented. They dove into the tunnel as the cavern rumbled. The mole roared back. There was a terrible creaking of splintering wood and then the cavern ceiling fell in. Dust and rock made the air thick.

Quiet.

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan from where he was pressed against his chest and saw a strangled sort of sorrow.

“Poor thing,” croaked Obi-Wan. Then he looked at Anakin with a clenched jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those. I could have studied it.”

It was almost enough to make Anakin apologise.

...

Obi-Wan dragged his padawan by his collar until they reached the mine’s entrance. The villagers who had pointed him inside were crowded around and erupted into cheers as soon as they stepped into the light.

One elbowed the head miner playfully. “Told you he was the madawan’s Jedi.”

“Shut up,” said the ovissian, who then raised his voice above the chattering. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your assistance. Uh, what exactly is the status of the, uh…”

“It’s dead,” Obi-Wan replied, bluntly, “And I’m afraid you may also need to reinforce the tunnel’s structural integrity. I apologise on behalf of my padawan –”

“Hey!”

“Of course, he will also apologise himself.”

Their eyes met in a match of wills. Anakin sighed, just loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear, and acquiesced.

“My sincere apologies,” he muttered, bowing shallowly. Obi-Wan had definitely taught him better manners than this; the child was just showing him up. Ungrateful womp-rat.

Fortunately, the villagers weren’t versed in bows and didn’t seem invested in apologies. Most were preoccupied by the mine and the new lack of angry mole. Small blessings, perhaps.

...

After manhandling the still-hot wreck of Anakin’s Aethersprite into the freighter Obi-Wan had brought and flying the brief trip back to the Temple, Obi-Wan was reaching the end of his patience. He left the ships with the hangar’s mechanics and dragged Anakin away from any chance of helping them. Their trip to the Halls of Healing were brief – the healers were efficient in removing the splinters and wrapping Anakin’s arm in bacta-soaked bandages. He only complained about half as much as he usually did.

They marched double-time to their rooms and Obi-Wan locked the door behind him; he could not cope with Anakin sneaking out at night.

“Master?” The voice was small. Obi-Wan tried not to let his ire show in his look. Perhaps if Anakin was squinting it would work. He was not. Instead he was holding out a hand full of pine needles and another with several small pinecones. “While I was on that planet, I found these for you to study. I’ve never seen them before; they could be revolutionary.”

Obi-Wan sighed, not having the heart to tell him that pine trees were fairly common throughout the galaxy. Anakin dropped his revolutionary finds into his hands, having to scrape off some of the pine needles that stuck.

“Thank you, Padawan. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“There were some bigger ones of these,” he added, pointing to the pinecones, “but I couldn’t fit them in my belt and some of the wildlife tried to fight me for them.”

“A squirrel?”

“I dunno, I didn’t see it very well. It was kinda fast. Reminded me of you, a bit.”

“How so?”

“Red,” said Anakin, nodding to Obi-Wan’s head, “And it didn’t like me picking up things off the floor.”

Obi-Wan huffed. “As long as you weren’t trying to eat pinecones.”

“Is that what they’re called?”

“Yes. Although I suppose I’d have to… study them. To make sure.”

Anakin’s face lit up. “Wizard.”

Obi-Wan’s annoyance was almost forgotten. Not quite. He was still a responsible Jedi master, no matter what the Council speculated.

There was a knock on the door. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who grimaced back. He opened it with very little hesitation.

“Knight Kenobi.” Speak of a Sith…

“Master Windu,” said Obi-Wan, far more brightly than he was feeling.

“Have you located your padawan?”

“Of course; he’s right here, Master.” He pulled Anakin out from behind his legs. Anakin attempted a winning smile, but nerves appeared to crumple it slightly. He had always been intimidated by Master Windu – first impressions were a force to be reckoned with. “I knew exactly where he was.” It was technically true, if you were selective about your timeframe.

Master Windu gave Anakin one of his signature piercing gazes, the kind that seems to expose one’s every weakness and warn against them. Anakin seemed to get the message. Hopefully he would keep it for at least a week before he inevitably threw it out.

“If that’s the case, I won’t need to launch a search party. Good night, Kenobi.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Windu.”

After Master Windu had left and Anakin had gone to bed still shaken from the encounter, Obi-Wan contemplated ditching the Temple and his wayward padawan for Bail Organa’s whiskey collection. Alderaan always made the best whiskey…

...

Art by me, @dib-leo-pard​

[mitsususu]

Did someone call for a stripper? Below are my Top 5 Favorites stories:

“the slow death of Steve Rogers [at the hands of the stupid, sexy, considerate stripper]” (M, 5k) by Madeleine_Ward

Steve’s first thought is that he knows this song.

His second thought is little more than a stream of expletives, as the male embodiment of Fuck Me walks out onto the stage. Although, ‘walk’ seems an entirely inappropriate word…the man struts, stalks, and all at once the frenzied reaction of the crowd makes perfect sense.

If Steve had known this was about to make an entrance, he’d have been screaming for it too.

_____

In which Steve Rogers is promised a night of highly-skilled dance performance, and gets exactly that...just not in the way he expected.

+ Modern AU. Stripper Bucky fellates a lollipop and there’s nowhere else Steve would rather be

-☆-

“so quite new a thing” (M, 7k) by twinagonies

Steve Rogers has an epiphany; a party is thrown; a stripper is hired.

Or: twenty-somethings make questionable choices.

+ Modern AU. Stripper Bucky dances at Steve’s Bisexual Coming Out party and reunites with his childhood best friend

-☆-

“Of Love and Lightsabers” (M, 7k) by perfect_plan

Steve isn't particularly happy that his friends have hired him a stripper for his birthday, until said stripper turns out to be dressed as a Jedi...

+ Modern AU. Stripper Bucky likes Steve’s Tauntaun, Steve likes Bucky’s everything (but especially his lightsaber)

-☆-

“Legs As White as Sugar, Candy on the Window Sill” (E, 15k) by OhCaptainMyCaptain

Steve's a fucking little tease. The worse part is he knows it.

‘Cause Steve’s still got those fucking black-rimmed glasses on, but the beanie’s gone and his hair is perfectly styled like one of those rich kids whose parents could afford to send them to prep school. Bucky’s zipper scrapes against his sudden and uncontrollable erection when Steve walks onto the stage wearing a motherfucking schoolboy uniform – white button-up tee shirt and tie and fucking crest and everything.

+ Modern AU. Stripper Bucky has no interest in relationships until he meets his new coworker

-☆-

“goddamn professional” (E, 3k) by mwestbelle

In which Bucky is a beefy stripper and Steve is a hipster bartender at the club with a crush. 

+ Modern AU. Steve’s trying to be respectful, Bucky wants him to be less respectful

-☆-

*More Stucky Recs here

[suitetarts]

It didn’t used to be this way

Father and son climb a mountain and learn how to process trauma. Fluffy, angsty sweetness with a plot!

Pairings: None, just Mando and Baby Yoda

Warning: Canon-typical violence, descriptions of past trauma, mild body gore

Words: 5300

AO3 Link

The engines geared down, the exhaust spray and landing gear deployed, all to bring the Razor Crest to the surface of the mountain’s clearing with the flip of a couple dozen buttons and switches. The ship settled in with a soft thump instead of the usual hard landing, thanks in no small part to the thick blanket of snow. Din was trying his best to temper his nerves as he continued his familiar routine of stabilizing solar capacitors and turning on ground protocols. Greef Carga had found some interesting intel on a former Jedi temple from before the Empire hidden in the snow-capped peaks of Saloscant. This planet was temperate enough for colonization, but was in the furthest reaches of the known galaxies and had been all but abandoned by the powers that be, along with the temple Din sought to find. While it was good to know he probably wasn’t going to come across any sorcerers, there was always the chance of finding some pocket of outlaws. That, and the bounty hunter fancied himself more attuned to dryer, warmer climates.

A white cloud flew up in puffs and swirls of fresh powder from beneath the Crest. The child -- his child, he supposed with a strange feeling in his gut -- climbed from Din’s lap to the dashboard in speechless awe. He made his way to the glass and looked down at the disheveled snow beneath the ship. The baby chirped and looked back at Din with gleefully bright eyes and a perk to his ears.

The Mandalorian couldn’t help the smile creeping on his face. The kid was too cute when he was excited. “Pretty, isn’t it? Its snow.”

The child pressed his small, three-fingered hand against the window for a moment but flinched from the cold. He pointed outside with an accusatory augh.

“Snow is kind of like rain, but frozen. You can even eat it,” Din explained with a sad smile, feeling wistful. He had old memories of carelessly playing in snow on his planet of birth, but those memories were vague and bittersweet. With a soft shake of his head, he blocked those memories out. They didn’t do him any good, but lately with the kid, he couldn’t help but recall bits and pieces of a happier little boy’s childhood.

The child looked back at him with a small droop in his ears, as if he could feel his caretaker’s thoughts. 

“Don’t look at me like that, everything’s fine. Look at this.” Din leaned over the dashboard, drawing a simple smiling face into the condensation on the window with a gloved hand. The child giggled, dragging his tiny fingers on the glass to draw lovely little lines.

After a few more moments, the Mandalorian held his hands out to the baby, waving for the little one to come closer with a quick movement of his gloved finger. The child excitedly waddled over and into his arms. “It’s time to go, so let’s bundle you up.”

Din began to wander around the various corners and crevices of the Razor Crest with the child on his hip, rummaging for some of his old clothes that he hadn’t at some point used to soak up engine oil. The child managed to slipped away to return to the cockpit and its windows, but upon his bounty hunter father finding the asset (read: a worn, but incredibly soft, old cloak), the child was quickly scooped up again. 

An extended trip in the outdoors was going to require some prep and creativity, as far as getting this 50-year-old infant ready to go. As they had flown in, Din had seen some stony ruins high in the mountains, more than likely this Jedi temple, which was maybe a half-day’s hike away from where he was able to find a suitable landing place for the ship. Climbing a mountain to a surely abandoned and scavenged place to search for magic artifacts or some sort of clue, with a baby no less, was going to be no simple feat for the Mandalorian, but on top of it all: he was definitely catching a cold. Din could feel the tiredness and sinus pressure looming, and he still hadn’t felt 100% since he almost died on Nevarro. He didn’t have the luxury of sick time, however. He had to find the home of his foundling or train the child to maturity himself, either which way would benefit from him figuring out how the basics of taking care of a 50-year-old infant with supernatural powers.

Din took a step back and inspected his handiwork: the child tightly bound as if he were a ronto wrap, with only his nose and eyes visible. The Mandalorian allowed himself a broad smile from the confines of his helmet as he held the baby in the crook of his arm. He tapped the child’s little wrinkled nose lovingly with a gloved finger. “You can’t get away from me now.” 

The child let out a meek protest but was not upset. The child liked a lot of things, his dad most of all.

The Mandalorian set the baby down for a quick moment to double check all of his gear. A tug on his pauldrons, securing his chest plate, a jiggle on his old cuisse, readjustment of his vambraces. A swift run through his jetpack, various tools and weaponry, and especially his munitions. Even though Din could feel the perspiration on his brow, he pinched the cloth around his elbow to check that it was indeed the thick woolen suit. Finally, he inspected the small messenger pack for the proper amount of rations and miscellaneous necessities for the little one before slinging it over his shoulder and picking up the baby once more.

As the Razor Crest’s side bay opened, the cold mountain air sucked out all the warmth from what, at least in Din’s mind, was usually his cozy and warm home. He sighed deeply in dread, looking down at the child in his arms for comfort as he began his journey up the mountain.

-

He didn’t like it at first, but the feeling of being bound up so tight was better than any other. The soft cloth covered him from the top of his big head all the way to his little toes, except for his face, and smelled just like his dad. The air was so very very cold, but the cold face combined with his cozy warm body felt nice, so that was okay. The child could also feel his dad’s heartbeat through his big strong arms and on the side of his torso, where the bounty hunter had so lovingly tucked him. The smell of musty blaster powder and bitter iron that surrounded him made the child feel… good. He decided to close his eyes and sleep, having the most wonderful dreams of frogs.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian was gasping for fresh air from within the stuffy confines of his helmet and sucking in his own snot as it dripped out of his nose. He couldn’t breathe through his nostrils anymore, and there’s no way he could get enough oxygen by doing anything but painfully wheezing. The glass of his visor was fogged and covered in whatever he was sneezing out. If he ever gave a thought to how he looked -- which was rare -- he usually figured he looked intimidating and (hopefully) good. In this moment, he felt like a complete mess.

Din whined pathetically to himself as he continued to drag his feet, one beleagueredly after the other, up what he believed to be a path. But how could he know where to go when everything was covered in snow? His jetpack had run out of fuel pretty quickly after the first hour or so of continuous use, and so it was just more weight pulling Din down. It had saved him some walking time surely, but not enough. At some point, the clouds and their snow flurries cleared and the sky had turned a deep dark purple. Three tiny moons had come up, illuminating the snow in a violet hue. He couldn’t remember how long the day and night cycle on this planet was, and he could hardly think enough to remember why it mattered. The baby was still asleep in the crook of his arm, which was a miracle. He had to switch the kid over to the other arm almost constantly at this point as both were feeling heavier and heavier. If Din had to, he wasn’t sure he could even raise his blaster.

His dragging feet caught on something large underneath the snow and down he went, just barely saving himself from falling on top of the child. Large dark eyes shot open with a quizzical shout from the baby. Din was barely holding himself up on his knees and one hand dug deep into the snow, the other arm curled around the child. He gently set the little bundle down for a moment while he hovered above, using the opportunity to take a break. The only sounds from the entire mountainside were the ragged breaths coming out of the Mandalorian’s voice modulator. 

“Sorry, I-I…” He hadn’t said a word since daylight, and despite his mind being foggy, he was shocked with how terrible he sounded. Din exhaled and fell onto his side dramatically, the child only a few inches away from his chest. The little one’s large dark eyes followed him quietly. He couldn’t help but smile at his absurdity. 

“I hope,” he said between sniffs, “you’re having fun.” 

The child didn’t respond.

Din crudely pushed his helmet off with one hand, as the other was pinned under his body, and dug his bare head into the snow. He pulled more from around the child onto his snotty face, up his clogged nose, through his greasy hair, and into his dry mouth. Despite his obvious personal and cultural attachments to his signature beskar headwear, it was truly blissful to feel the snow on his feverish skin. He sneezed and relished the freedom of watching all the nastiness float away in the mountain breeze instead of breathing it back in.

The child watched closely as Din scrubbed his face and hair with snow. He had started to see the Mandalorian without the helmet only recently. It had taken the child a few nights of confused crying to finally understand that nice metal dad and the tan hairy face were the same person. The baby still felt uneasy though, since the man never had the helmet off for very long besides sleeping, and he always seemed terribly nervous about it. His adoptive father looked pretty happy this time though... The child cooed for attention. 

The Mandalorian ruffled through his hair to get the snow out while eyeing the kid. 

With his free hand, he made a rough snowball and set it on the baby’s chest with a smirk to see what he would do. At first the child giggled, but he began to whine as he couldn’t bite it or pick it up. Din pinched some snow between his fingers for the kid to eat. However, the child was adamant, presumably about touching it himself with his constrained little hands.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, no.” He felt uneasy about unwrapping the child in this wintry hell. There were so many things that could go wrong, and the kid was definitely not wearing proper cold-weather attire. Din continued to shake his head no as he dragged the underside of his arm against his wet nose.

The child wasn’t listening and continued to escalate the whining fit as he tried to violently wriggle out of his warm cocoon prison.

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay,” the Mandalorian murmured, pulling the child closer in an attempt to calm him. The baby began to cry in frustration, shaking and wheezing as it sobbed. Din felt his heart lurch watching the poor little thing cry so hard. 

“... Alright, alright, here,” he spoke as calmly as he could in his defeat, unraveling the cloak to the point where it was simply a loose blanket. The child softened slightly but was worked up beyond the point of being satiated by touching the snowball. The bounty hunter slumped back into the snow, the child still shaking and crying as it laid on his beskar chestplate.

Din had one more idea, but… It was something he hadn’t done in a long time. Intuition, or something else deep inside of him, told him he needed to. That it would help, that it was natural. It wasn’t natural for a Mandalorian, though.

No matter what was natural or not, Din couldn’t bear to see the child crying like this. He pulled the bundle towards his neck for a tight embrace and quickly kissed the baby’s forehead. The child suddenly went silent as the bounty hunter pulled a few inches away, both of them in shock. 

Din pulled the corners of his mouth apart in nervous terror, thinking that he surely did something wrong. The baby’s eyes, still brimming with tears, were unflinchingly glued to the Mandalorian’s. The child made a short, questioning babble, emphasizing the end with a long blink.  

“Wh… What does that mean?” Din whispered honestly, tearing up himself.

The child cooed expectantly. 

Din paused in doubt, before craning down slightly to give the child another forehead kiss. He held onto this one for longer by some force of instinct, and the baby hummed. 

The Mandalorian pulled away again and saw the baby’s eyes flutter happily. He set his head back in the snow with a blank expression on his face. The child chirped and began to bat at the snow with tiny fists.

After a few moments of reflecting on what he’d just done, Din was still speechless. He brought a trembling hand to his own face and brushed lightly over his nose and lips, fingers finding their way to pick at the stubble on his jawline. He hadn’t kissed or been kissed since that morning, so many years ago, right before his parents… Outside of the basement doors, right there. The last time he’d ever seen them, the last time he... Din dug his palms into his eyes, trying to physically block out the images and feelings that were rushing back to him.

“No, no no, noo…,” he whispered to himself. His eyes watered and the tightness in his chest felt like it could burst. 

“Nope,” the bounty hunter said weakly, but with a strong resolve, as he sat up suddenly. “We’re moving on.”

The child yelped as the Mandalorian haphazardly re-wrapped him, albeit not as tightly as before. Din wiped the inside of his helmet clean with some snow and his cloak. He glanced down at the small green face looking up at him from the crook of his elbow, and then back to the helmet. He squeezed his eyes shut, tight enough so that he could hear the strain in his muscles and see only white flashes. Din quickly gave the child one last quick peck on the forehead before opening his tired eyes and donning his beskar once more.

-

Weather moves in without warning at these altitudes. What was once a freezing, but bright, cloudless night became a dark, snowy one with snowflakes the size of five-hundred credit ingots. The beam from Din’s helmet light lit up the snow like stars, crashing and blowing every which way against him as he tried to stay strong. His focus kept him from succumbing to the weariness of his feverish body or the memories of the past that dug at the back of his mind. It had only been another fifteen or twenty minutes since the clan of two had resumed their journey up the mountain when they came upon the entrance of the temple ruins.

The Mandalorian pressed his back against the frozen stone wall that circled the area, taking a moment to prepare himself for whatever he may find inside. He pulled up on the cloth covering the child’s face to find it sleeping peacefully. He smiled softly and sighed, hoping that nothing he was about to do would wake his little one.

Din entered the temple grounds defensively, scanning the area with his blaster and the child held closely to his side. He didn’t see any heat signatures on his visor amongst the village surrounding the temple itself, but perhaps he would find something of interest inside what structures remained. He approached one of the huts that still had a semi-intact thatch roof, finding a shelf with various bits of pottery and paper scraps, wicker baskets, and a burned charcoal pit on the ground. In the roofless hut next door, he found a loom and a half-finished robe that had been bleached by time and exposure. The village was quiet and unmoving save for fluttering crystals and the crunch of snow under his boots, but to Din, that silence was overwhelming. The empty doorways left ajar, the bowls forgotten on tables with what may have once been filled with a meal untouched, the fallen mitten waiting for a hand to keep warm. What happened here seemed all too familiar, too much like his worst dreams. It was what was left behind after something terrible.

He holstered his blaster and sprinted towards the temple in the center of all the ruins of these people’s -- of Din’s and his parents’ -- once peaceful lives. He could nearly hear the murmurs, the clinking of metal tools, the sizzle of grills, the soft babble of discussions, the banality and domesticity of the souls that once called this place home. And now it was cursed and empty, devoid of all life and filled with a terrible silence. It was everything he always feared his old home had become. A cold reminder of thousands of tears, stuck in a place that time left behind and was doomed to never be happy again. The Mandalorian had assumed this fate, all but resigned himself to bear the burden of being the one who had to carry these painful memories to his grave. 

His run slowed before he stopped completely on the stairs leading to the temple proper, and stood still. “I can’t keep doing this,” he told himself softly under his breath. He turned around to face the ruined village and sat on the stair steps. “I can’t,” he repeated, taking a moment to inhale... and exhale.

Tears burned down Din’s cheeks as he allowed his memories to play out in his mind’s eye as he looked over the village before him. The good memories, of early mornings when he wanted to play with the other children but his mother made him eat breakfast first. Memories of the sweet cadence of his mother’s voice when she sang to him in the bath. Of him laughing and sitting on his father’s shoulders as they shopped at the bazaar. But also, the bad memories… memories of the bazaar aflame and besieged. The memory of his parent’s tearful goodbyes. These memories, good and bad, made him feel even worse, as he couldn’t even fully remember what his parents looked like anymore. Just hazy figures in blood red clothes, shutting him inside the cellar doors.

Letting the past wash over him and drown him in its weight and loss and sorrow felt terrible, but… Din also felt better, in a way, to let it out. The child awoke to find himself tucked underneath his father’s chin, with trembling arms wrapped tightly around him. He let out a squeak and crawled closer into the Mandalorian’s scarf.

“I’m sorry,” Din whispered as he pulled the child away from his neck and down into his lap. The helmet once again came off, but only briefly so that he could dry his cheeks and wipe his nose. The child wriggled his arms free from the loose cloth, waving to be picked up. Din smiled as he rubbed his tender eyes. He leaned down to kiss the child’s nose, letting his thoughts run free, before replacing his helmet and obliging the child’s desire.

The child giggled blissfully, lovingly looking up at the Mandalorian as the mythosaur pendant poked out of the cloth around his neck. Little green hands opened and closed expectantly.

“Anything for you,” Din said softly as he pulled the infant close and stood back up, facing away from the village. He tucked the child back into his left shoulder, turning his head to the side as an extra support as they ascended the stairs to the temple. The child purred and began to babble excitedly. 

Din smiled playfully, his smile tugging at his still raw eyes. “Oh, you don’t say?”

The temple’s engraved wooden doors were on the floor and splintered in the middle, as if they’d been rammed down. The Mandalorian carefully stepped over the carved faces of stalwart protectors and the swirls of a written language he had never seen before, aiming his blaster and headlamp into the depths of the darkness ahead. The temple was pitch black inside, save the one beam of light. The child’s continued babbles echoed off the ceilings above, which the bounty hunter noticed were covered in an intricate web of peeling paint.

“Is there anyone here?” Din asked, his modulated voice rippling off the stone walls again and again. He knew it was unlikely, as there still weren’t any heat signatures, but there could always be droids. 

After a few moments of silence, he holstered his blaster and began to rifle through a nearby bookshelf. Every book, every page, everything was written in this unfamiliar language. The font was like water, squiggly lines or swirls flowing from one line to the next. Din searched through every book for something he could recognize: a different language, a picture, a doodle in the margins, anything. He found nothing on every bookshelf, table, and altar.

“Seriously?” Din felt his temper rising and he suppressed the urge to turn one of the old wooden tables into a bonfire with a simple flick of his wrist.

Having cleared the main temple area, he walked along the edges, brushing his free hand against the walls. The cold from the stone seeped into his glove, until, it suddenly didn’t. Din backtracked, realizing that part of the stone wall was painted wood, with a small metal handle near the floor, and was covered in the same peeling pattern as the ceiling. This was the first closed door he’d seen in this whole cursed place and it set him on edge.

The bounty hunter needed both of his hands, one to open the door and one for his blaster, but he didn’t want to risk setting the child down in the cold pitch blackness of the temple. Din pulled the full length of his cloak over his shoulder, wrapping the child in it and then tucking the remainder snugly in his tool belt. Using a rope from his small messenger sack, he secured the make-shift baby sling to his beskar chestplate.

“You good?” he whispered. 

The child cooed softly. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Din crouched down to the metal handle, his finger on the trigger of his blaster. He took in a deep breath before pulling up on the handle, -- harder than he expected he’d have to -- which caused the wooden panel to swung up wildly. 

A dark figure came forward out of the opening, seeming to lunge at Din. The Mandalorian’s instincts pulled him sideways, to protect the child strapped to his chest, and he didn’t hesitate to repay the figure in equal violence with his blaster. A familiar red flash momentarily filled the room with light. The body fell down to the floor and silence returned.

Immediately, Din knew that this was a corpse, and quickly turned the baby around in the sling so that it was facing his chest. The corpse was of a human woman, with bluish-gray skin and far too gaunt to have been alive anytime recently. She was wearing a robe similar to the unfinished one he’d seen earlier, except this one was brown and untouched by the elements behind the safety of this faux wall.

He turned his attention to the mysterious hidden cove. However, it was nothing more than a small closet with some empty jugs and pots, nothing more.

“Of course,” Din sighed.

The bounty hunter came back to the corpse, which had fallen face down after he’d shot her. It was curious, these were the only remains he’d seen. Although, with animal scavengers and the thick blanket of snow covering everything, he really couldn’t be surprised. He grabbed her stiff shoulders and flipped the corpse over. He was taken aback by how… alive she looked, besides the color of her skin. Her jet black hair still looked so soft and her features were frozen by the cold; her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth in a grimace as her lips contracted over her teeth. He noticed two blaster shots: one from him just now on her neck, and the one that killed her however many years ago on her stomach. Din wondered if his own corpse may have been similarly discovered in that cellar years later, in some alternate timeline where the Mandalorians hadn’t saved him from the super battle droid.

He was pulled away from his thoughts by the woman’s hands, frozen around what she clutched onto in her last moments. Her right hand held a metal tube, a grip of sorts, that had a couple buttons and a small blue glowing crystal on the inside. Din wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he pried the corpse’s fingers off the tube regardless. He carefully stowed it away into his messenger pack next to a few books he saved, one of the many with the water-like writing. He could figure out what it all meant later.

Her left hand held a crumpled piece of paper, yellowed by time and the decay of her flesh. The Mandalorian carefully removed the paper and opened it. “Would you look at that,” he said to himself, finding the words on the page were written in Basic.

Margraeth, my sweetling. They are coming. Good-bye. 

May the Force be with you.

All my love, L

Din read over the note again and again, mildly interested in the questions it brought but frustrated with its lack of answers or, frankly, its relevance to what he’d come here to find. Whoever wrote this, L he supposed, knew what fate was coming for this temple. L knew they were all going to die. How? And who were They, where were they coming from? What was this Force? But most importantly, to Din at least, did all of these Jedi sorcerers really leave nothing behind but ruins and rubble, except for books in a dead language and this one little meaningless scrap of paper? He read the note one last time, searching for some kind of clue that he wasn’t going to find, before folding it back up carefully and tucking it into one of the water books.

A deep sigh escaped him, seeming to come from his very soul. Din was so very tired, and wholly discouraged. This was his first non-bounty hunting mission, where the priority was his foundling, and he felt that it had all failed miserably. He shivered in the cold dampness of the temple and sneezed. The child chirped in response, appearing to be cozy and warm. Unfortunately, the beskar chestplate between them prevented the Mandalorian from sharing in that warmth. 

Din glanced back down at the woman’s corpse, before he walked back out towards the village. His thoughts stayed on her, though. The remains of Margraeth, an enemy Jedi sorcerer who died of a blaster wound from some unknown They, who surely had powers like those wielded by his foundling. The power which continued to be a mystery, since not one damned thing in these frozen ruins had given him anyth --

“The power…” he said aloud, trying to connect his thoughts. He found a fairly intact hut, with a roof and functional doors and windows. Once inside, gloved fingers worked at the knots in the rope securing the child to his chest. Din pulled the baby out, holding it in front of his helmet in the light to gauge his responses. 

“They are coming,” Din said with a straight face. 

The child didn’t respond really, just suckled on his own finger.

“May the Force be with you.” 

The child blew a raspberry and giggled, perking his ears.

“May the Force be with you?” Din repeated, his voice going up an octave at the end.

The child didn’t appear to respond with any certainty, continuing to blow raspberries.

The Mandalorian sighed in defeat. He thought he was onto something, but there was really no way to be sure. And in any case, his foundling did best when there are few expectations. Trying to elicit some omniscient response from a magic baby was just foolish, but Din wasn’t keeping up with appearances, so what did it matter? 

The hut was made suitable for their overnight stay with a few paddings of the drafty windows and doors, and a nice fire. The water and food rations he had taken along were finished off with a satisfactory burp from father and son. It was all Din could do to not let his mind drift to who used to live here or the last time the fire pit had been used. After taking the empty jetpack off his back, he settled in for an uneasy bout of sleep on the cold dirt floor with the child cooing softly from the bed of cloaks and cloths beside him.

Only a handful of hours later, the bright daylight and its even brighter reflections off of the snow kept Din from getting any more rest, even if he’d wanted it. The trek down the mountain was impressively easier than going up, with the Mandalorian and his sleeping charge making it back to the Razor Crest just at midday.

“Ohhh,” Din hummed, glad to see that nothing had happened to his ship. For once.

After closing the cargo bay doors, Din jumped up to the cockpit and turned on the auxiliary solar generator for lights and to heat the cabin space up. He had meant to turn right around towards the Crest’s small kitchen, but noticed a few blinking communication lights. He sighed, setting the child down in his regular spot, so that he could catch up.

A few flicks of switches on the comm panel, and he was connected with whoever wanted to talk to him so badly.

“Mando?” asked a familiar voice.

“Greef,” Din responded blankly, but kindly.

“Ah, Mando, finally! I found another lead on this Jedi business. Why don’t you come back to Nevarro and we can talk details?”

Din rubbed the back of his neck while he mulled over his words, slowly turning left in his seat towards the child. “Right now?”

“Well, sure, why not? You can also come see our progress in rebuilding the guild! Cara has some fun things to show you from the scavenging she’s been doing.”

“But I…” Din trailed off as he continued to look at his foundling, feeling equally tired but content. “I can come back in a few days, probably a week.”

“What?” Greef exclaimed, which caused the child to wake. The baby immediately saw that they were back home and reached his arms out, bubbly and happy and pure. “Don’t you go disappearing on me again. We just --”

Din smiled underneath his helmet, holding his finger over the power button for his communication feeds. “Sorry, gotta go. Something came up.”