#hoth landscape

[blackberry-command-cap]

hoth is just so prettyyyyy

also kudos to the people who designed massive areas like Hoth. Like someone had to go design cool little areas that almost nobody will see on the edge of the map and JUST BECAUSE they make a super cool chasm with a crashed ship at the bottom. The amount of time and effort put into this game is just mind-boggling

[wvyld]

hoth was nice

[pygmi-cygni]

Playing Favorites

poe dameron x reader

summary: your position as resource agent isn't high on the christmas card list for most, but you take it seriously. As seriously as you can, while still having to scold grown men for their....antics.

@brighterthanlonelywords REMEMBER THIS THING WE TALKED ABOUT IDK IF YOU DO BUT I SWEAR I DIDN'T FORGET!! in my poe dameron post like three weeks ago lmao you gave me this idea

content: sexual innuendos, pining, flirting, banter, angst...it's a poe fic like you know why ur here

there is a brief scene where reader is harrassed, it isn't sexual or anything dw

reader is afab, described w braidable hair, texture not described/racially ambiguous

You'd taken the job for the scenery. Being from Kamino, you hadn't seen much farther than your window, let alone anything other than rain. Your parents had told you stories of the skies, promising to leave the soggy planet. In the end, you escaped on a ragtag Rebel ship recruiting pilots. Immediately upon landing at the lush landscape of D'Qar, you'd known it was the right choice. The view floored you every time.

But nothing could compensate for the amount of utter bullshit you experienced as a resource agent.

So...you decided to do barrel rolls in an unregistered X-Wing?

Uh, yeah.

Without a helmet or a pilot's license?

uhhh....

You were the epitome of a short fuse. Resource agents were essentially the Resistance's HR team. Strange, because absolutely nothing about the Resistance followed 'protocol', but you supposed there needed to be some kind of discipline in place.

No, your crew wasn't making many friends in the Res, nor were you the most celebrated, but somebody had to do it.

Though, you wished it was somebody else.

Mind melting to a thoughtless mush as you listened to a cadet stumble over excuses, you flicked through the remaining meetings scheduled.

Team training, team training, briefing with Organa....fuckkkk.

Your favorite piece of shit, Poe Dameron, had another protocol screening set for his next mission. You gotta be kidding me.

Normally, pilots had a protocol training at the beginning of their enlistment and then once every six months. It was long and tedious; going through safety maneuvers and briefing procedure to make sure everything was up to date. But, because Dameron was special and liked to play by his own rules, General Organa had started mandating his for every mission.

Which meant three hours out of your day because somebody didn't read the Terms and Conditions.

This is such bullshit.

Schooling your expression into neutrality as the bumbling cadet finished his story, you tried to stop your fingers from crushing the tablet in your hands.

Being the equivalent of a galactic HR meant that you weren't gonna be on anybody's Christmas list. Yeah, the job was tedious, but you weren't good enough at plying to be a pilot and couldn't fix a droid to save your life, so you used your skills to help in the way you could.

You were here to stop a war, not make friends.

You could feel Dameron before you saw him. The ego that shone like a halo around him was sparkling like a disco ball as he loudly bantered with his crewmates. General Organa had already arrived, and shot you an amused glance as you rubbed your temples.

Inside voice, Dameron, for the love of Hoth.

"Evening, Commander," you said briskly, gesturing towards the prep room doors, "you know where to start."

He made eye contact and grinned. "Right to business, I like it. Cute hair, sweetheart," he added smoothly. You bit back a frown and followed Organa into the small briefing station. Initially you'd been excited to wear your new braids, but his incessant flirting dampened your pride.

"Flirting with an HR officer is awfully brave of you," you fired back.

"I like a challenge." His smirk sparkled in the low light.

General Organa, used to your bickering, waved at the holo above the console.

"This mission is simple, Dameron, a recon on the Mid Rim. You'll be out there for around two standard days. You are required to check in every twelve hours, and return with the information here," she explained, highlighting a small map underneath the mission summary. Dameron leaned forward, brow set.

"A map....of Abelor? That's a spice trade port, General, why does the Resistance need to be involved?" His confusion mirrored your own. Organa held up a hand, continuing.

"There have been rumors that First Order informants are using the spice port to smuggle information planet-to-planet without needing to go through protocol checks. This is merely a recon to stake out the area. You'll be meeting with an ally, Rhett Mosley." A lanky man popped up next to the summary. He was mostly covered in tribal tattoos, and a pair of thick goggles hid most of his face.

Poe nodded, copying the info on his personal tablet.

"Any questions?"

At his subtle shake of the head, she gestured to you and bowed. "Continue with the protocol, ten hours until takeoff."

You both murmured a farewell and she left with a swish of her cloak. For a moment, Poe was suspended in his own head, gaze distant and stricken. Awkwardly, you shuffled around, hoping to rouse him.

He snapped out of it, and his trademark grin spread across his face. "Just you and me now, sweetheart," he said, bumping your shoulder.

"Just get in the fucking X-Wing."

You sat by, bored as Poe droned about the processes in his ship. He knew the steps, you knew he knew the steps, but because of this stupid loophole in the system, you both had to sit here for another hour.

"Maker- look, Dameron," you sighed, scrubbing your hand over your face, "I know that you're more than capable of doing this mission. I'll sign all your papers, I just want this to be over."

He paused in the middle of showing you the intricate seamwork on the inside of his security belt. A mock look of abhorrence crossed his face.

"What! You wound me, baby. I thought you loved our time together," he bemoaned, batting his dark lashes.

Your filter was slowly coming loose. "Yes, how could I forget, Dameron, how enjoyable it is to listen to your terrible pick-up lines while you bullshit your way through a protocol exam?"

This earned a small chuckle. To your dismay, a small part of your ego preened at the sound. You liked making people laugh. And if Commander Dameron happened to be the one laughing....well, that was okay too.

"No it's not," you snapped. You hated him. This was-

"What? Yes it is, I just showed you." Poe was looking at you, head tilted in confusion. You blushed, realizing you'd said that out loud.

"Right. Er...sorry, Commander, continue. I didn't...nevermind," you muttered, willing your cheeks to stop flaming. He wiggled his brows at you again.

"Feeling a little hot and bothered, Lieutenant?" Poe grinned, the pink tip of his tongue poking out. You scowled at your feet. Since childhood, your cheeks flamed like hell at the slightest embarrassment.

"That's alright," he continued his conversation, "I know I have that effect on people. Sorry to inconvenience you, honey, I know you still think you hate me."

You aggressively signed off on his report, shoving him the document and wiping the growing smile off your face.

"Good luck, Commander, you're cleared for takeoff."

"Can I get a goodbye kiss?" he called after you.

The mission, by all accounts, was a resounding success. You didn't care; still riding the high of being Dameron-free for at least a few days. The base had been, to nobody's surprise, remarkably calm and quiet for the weekend.

But, like clockwork, our favorite flyboy was marched into your office at 7 sharp, sporting a black eye and a toothy grin. His droid, a cute BB unit, was beeping frantically, occasionally rolling into his feet.

You looked up from your caf, unamused.

"Early bird gets the right hook, I see," you sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

"Left, actually," he said sheepishly, rocking on his heels. The corrections officer that led him in rolled her eyes, snapping a salute and walking off.

"Dameron, we've had this conversation too many times for me to pretend like you didn't deserve it."

As if on cue, he threw himself across from your desk, hands folded. "No, no, listen," he wheedled, "look, it's a long story, and I wasn't trying to start anything, swear-"

"BB-8, recent log information, please," you asked crisply. Poe shot his friend a desperate look.

"Beebs," he hissed, "come on, stick with me on this one, dude!" BB-8 blinked, then rolled over to you and stuck out his little thumb drive.

You thanked him, kindly patting his tummy. Preening, the little droid circled his pilot friend tauntingly. Poe glared balefully. "I give you tummy rubs too," he grumbled.

A grainy camera feed pulled up. Dameron and another pilot, clearly drunk, were getting heated over something you couldn't make out. Truthfully, the other guy swung first, but Poe was not clear of fault.

"You slapped him with a plate," you deadpanned, rewinding to watch it again. Poe rubbed his neck.

"Well, yeah, but..." he trailed off, searching for a good excuse.

"I do recognize that he punched first, but you still antagonized him. I'll send you to my advisor and they'll do a case review for you." Eager to get on with your morning and shove Poe off your desk, you waved at him to leave.

His lower lip pushed out. Goddamn the puppy eyes, I swear to Maker.

"But why won't you clear it for me?" His voice was small, pleading. Beebs, clearly unamused, thumped against Poe's knee.

"I don't have the authority."

"But...wait, wait. I could take you by the cantina and you could ask the people that were there, and maybe...I'll buy you a drink, and we can chat for-"

"Dameron," you said again, tone gentler. "I'm sorry. But I'd lose my job."

"I've heard my company is worth it," he winked, then winced, for he'd winked with his bruised eye. BB-8 booped wearily. You felt for the little guy. Opening a desk drawer, you pulled out a small tube of varnish and gave the droid a shine for his efforts.

"Stop pampering my droid and pay attention to me," Poe complained, "he'll start picking favorites."

You sighed, looking at the pilot with a tired expression. Even though he gave you trouble, Poe was a good pilot and a good friend. He teased and flirted and drove you up the wall, but he was a good guy. You didn't want his record to be tainted, he wouldn't come around anymore.

Woah, where did that come from?

"Poe," you said slowly. He noticeably brightened at his name, putting as much into his smile as you'd ever seen. "I cannot clear you from this...event. However, if you write a written apology and an explanation I can...forget it."

He threw his arms around your shoulders and crowed in success. BB-8 whirred in surprise. You didn't lean into the embrace, too shocked to do anything. He smelled...nice. Like metal and cinnamon.

"Thanks, honey," he whispered, "I owe you one." Pulling away, he poked BB-8 in in the tummy and smirked.

"Told you she'd listen," he whispered smugly. As he whistled and strolled off, a faint blush dotted your cheeks.

He really was a sweetheart.

Night time was your favorite on base. It was quiet, solitary. Walking past the housing on your nightly check, you smiled at the sounds of muffled laughter coming from the bunks. It was like a family. Dysfunctional, yeah, but it was home.

It had been a long day. You had two hallways to go before you could collapse in your own bed. Tomorrow was your day off - you could finally sleep in.

You were playing with the zipper on your jacket as you rounded the corner.

A solid block of person collided with your cheek. Stumbling, you caught yourself on the wall.

"S-sorry, I didn't mean to-"

An unfamiliar scowl glowered down at you. Your apology trailed off. This guy was huge, probably six feet tall and heavyset. His face looked familiar, what with the sharp cut across the bridge of his nose.

Oh. This was the guy Poe had been tussling with.

"Sorry, sir, I need to get by," you said, shaken from the impact. He didn't move. Thompson was printed on his breast pocket, with a green insignia. Green Squadron.

"Heard you had something to do with this," he snarled, jabbing a thumb at his rank. Suspended.

"I..." a rush of panic swelled inside you. This is why you didn't play favorites. You buckled one time and now this guy was gonna wreck your shit. Fucking Dameron, shit shit shit-

"I..I didn't do your intake," you stammered, balking at his imposing figure. "It wasn't my case-"

"No, but pretty boy gets to fly tomorrow, and guess who took his?" Thompson was seething, eyes narrowed to slits. You were amazed that Poe had the balls to smash a plate on this guy. You wanted to curl up and cry.

Help. Help. Somebody help me oh my god I'm going to die.

There were rows of doors on either side of you. You could knock on any of them, but he'd surely grab you before you made it. If you screamed, maybe somebody would-

Stars and pain exploded and you were catapulted backwards, crumpling against the doorhandle. The wind had been knocked out of you so sharply not even a gasp had escaped your lips. Choking and heaving, you scrambled backwards. Pain was everywhere. You weren't sure where he'd hit you.

I'm going to die.

Thompson sneered down at you, making a grab for your collar. Desperately, you scratched at his face, tearing open his smashed nose. The reopened wound gushed, sticky red trickling down your fingers and into his raging mouth. You gagged, but quickly cowered as he swung again at your face.

His fist smashed against the door, and you mentally apologized to whoever was trying to sleep. Air was becoming harder to swallow, and you realized his hand was twisting your shirt too tight around your throat.

uh oh uh oh fuck you sputtered and gasped and tried to smack him off, but he grabbed your wrists

fuck-

You fell backwards; rolling out of his grasp and into a dark room. Something yanked your shoulders backwards and you were shoved into darkness. Finally able to suck in a breath, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from your bruised throat.

A large hand clapped over your lips. You wailed louder, trying to escape the sweaty palm.

stop it stop it HELP stop stop SOMEBODY FUCKING HELP

A ringing in your ear, punctuated by a loud male voice.

"Stop it," he hissed, removing his hand from your mouth. You panted and struggled against the forearms bracing your stomach. The first punch had landed on your sternum, and the entirety of your torso was screaming in pain.

"Hurts," you whimpered, trying to shove away. The man let go and you collapsed forward, gagging from the pain. A small night light glowed in the corner of the room, highlighting a familiar mop of curls.

"Poe," you wheezed, sitting up against the door. A muffled commotion could be heard outside - likely your fellow officers finally detaining the rogue Green pilot.

He nodded, wiping his brow. Grabbing the light from his desk, he brought it over to look at you. The warm light added a softer glaze to his eyes. He looked bleary. You'd probably woken him up.

"Hey, sweetheart," he said, gently coming to sit next to you. You sniffled, still shaking.

"Don't move," he whispered, free hand coming up to carefully inspect your face. You didn't look at him, ashamed to be in this state. The light he was holding was for a child - shaped like a small cartoon Bantha. Cute, you thought listlessly.

Trembling, you could still feel Thompson's hands around your throat. You choked again, throat constricting around nothing. Fear still pierced your bones, and you folded forwards, sobbing into your knees.

Poe, surprised, swore and set the light down. His hands fluttered over your back, unsure of where it was okay to touch. He settled for your hair, petting the plaits gently as you cried.

The sounds outside had long quieted before you ran out of tears. A cold bottle was pressed into your hands. Cool water trickled down your throat. You swallowed gratefully. The room, still dark, brightened again as Poe flicked on another night-light.

Your lower lip was trembling, this time with embarrassment. You could feel Poe's concerned gaze tracing your face.

"You need to go to the medbay?" His gravelly, sleep-warm voice was quiet, hand still running over your hair.

You shook your head.

"Anything broken?"

Feeling around your ribs, you winced. Bruised, nothing broken. Again, you shook your head, clutching your water.

Poe nodded, scooting to sit next to you. You sat together, slowly coming down from the cortisol spike. Your limbs still shook, heartrate erratic against your aching chest.

"You're okay in here," Poe murmured, "Thompson may be strong, but he can't break through doors." You shivered, ducking your head into his shoulder. He understood, falling quiet again

Your throat was raw, and bruises pulsed under your skin. Eye contact was impossible, the embarrassment forcing your eyes down. You looked like a wreck - hair falling loose and bruises littering your body. The spot on the back of your head throbbed from the impact with the door.

Poe's fingers traced lightly, and you whimpered when they hit the sore spot. He retracted his hand quickly, apologizing rapidly.

"Hang on, hang on." His warm shoulder disappeared, and you sniffled at the loss. He returned a moment later with an ice pack, which he gently settled on the back of your head. The cold was soothing.

"I'm sorry," he said, gaze mournful. "This is kinda my fault, isn't it."

You squinted at him in the low light. "What?" Your voice was raspy.

"I made you get him in trouble, right? If I hadn't..." he gestured off towards your office, "y'know, then...well, you'd probably be on Thomspon's nice list."

You huffed a dejected laugh. "No, it's-" you cleared your throat, taking another sip of water. "it's okay." It wasn't, not really, but you didn't have the energy to be mad.

"I see why you don't play favorites," Poe said, smiling sadly. You gave him a half smile.

A soft beep came from your left and you turned. BB was tilted questioningly, large eye blinking.

"Hey, beebs," you whispered, reaching out to poke his antennae. He whirred and nudged your hand. "I'll be okay, it's just a couple bruises."

Your mind was still reeling. Poe scratched his friend's tummy then turned back to you.

"Why don't you stay here for tonight?" His eyes were genuine and concerned. You looked at him wearily. His hair was ruffled and cheeks flushed from sleep. Cute.

What?

"I won't try anything, promise," he reassured, hands raised placatingly. "I just don't want you walking around like this."

You swallowed and nodded. Poe took the water and the ice pack, setting them nearby. He hooked his arms under your shoulders and lifted you gently, stabilizing you when you swayed.

"You should really get checked out," he said, frowning."

"It's okay," you rushed, stumbling back. Poe grabbed your elbow to keep you from falling.

"It's okay to need help, you know. Nobody's gonna get mad." His eyes were gentle. Your lip trembled again, and you tried to pull away. Instead, Poe pulled you into a hug.

Your sob was muffled against his sleep shirt. He shushed you, hands tracing warm circles over your back. It's okay. It's okay. You'll be okay. Don't worry.

He really did smell good, you thought groggily. Cinnamon was comforting, and you started to sag in his arms. Poe carefully laid you on the lower bunk, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

"Which do you want?" He asked, pointing to the wall. Fighting to keep your eyes open, you blinked.

"Huh?"

"Which night light? I have a bantha and R2-D2."

At your blank stare, he blushed sheepishly. "I'm scared of the dark."

You snorted and pointed to the Bantha. Poe nodded, "a respectable choice," and placed the little light next to your pillow.

He sat at the foot of your bed, pulling out a tablet. You watched him, eyes growing heavy, as he pulled up a muted holovid, his hand stroking gently on your calf. Sleep came swiftly, and you drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

You woke at noon, shuffling under a thick warmth. A familiar warm smell curled around you like a blanket. Blinking blearily, a black mass of curly hair was crammed into your shoulder. Poe's head was three inches from your chin, and he was snoring like a bear. He was laying on top of the blanets, hand fisted over your chest. He reminded you of an infant, snuggled against any source of warmth.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you petted his head and drifted back off.

join my taglist if you want, just comment or message me! it didn't mean to become so angsty lol idk what happened

xox bye bye

[stealingpotatoes]

Skywalkers apart au! It's so precious that Anakin gets to be a dad, a rebellion general Dad but he gets to be there for at least one of them and Padme survives and gets to be a mom and maybe someday they get to meet and it's so good.

Also the concept of General Skywalker of the Rebellion feels like it has so much potential cause he was such a big figure in the Clone Wars, he was the Hero, the General, he could probably get the various splinter rebel cells (they were very divided in the early Rebellion) to follow him by sheer reputation and charisma. Imagine Anakin being at Hoth, like the attack is going along the usual Imperial imminent victory and suddenly an AT-AT has been thrown clear across the landscape and an announcement sounds out "General Skywalker has entered the field" cue Rebel Counterattack due to morale boost and Imperial Panic.

What happened to the 501st here? Did he go to the Venator's crash site where Ahsoka was during Order 66 what did he think when he saw all the dead folks?

Fun thought, Starkiller being the apprentice in this AU, means that Sidious has probably been comparing him to Anakin (in part because he's bitter he didn't fall, in other part cause it's great for fueling the darkside) for years so the first time they face off he's gonna be full of spiteful hatred (all going according to plan) before Starkiller gets styled on by the Skywalker, cause Anakin isn't crippled by the suit and that means he's still massively powerful in the force and skilled in the blade (Vader was too, but less than a whole Anakin), I could see Anakin pulling a Lightside version of the Rogue One Hallway scene against Stormtroopers (or even inquisitors).

Rebel General Anakin Skywalker would be an Imperial Boogeyman.

Leia would probably appreciate it for a while but also she'd get a bit annoyed about her dad's reputation and "Legend" and the fact that she's probably got that entire thing to measure up to, making her more reckless or foolhardy. That's a big shadow to live under.

Padme on the other hand is probably in a very different situation reputation wise, she was the senator for the new Emperor's home planet, she's the old queen of naboo from the Trade Federation attack, she's a founding member of one of the oldest discrete rebellion cells but that still leaves some stigma. She's probably so very worried about Imperial surveilance on her or Luke or the rest of her family, and it doesn't help that the Inquistorious has probably been sniffing around for a while.

ok this is a veeeeery long ask so i'm gonna have a veeeery long answer which is gonna go under this readmore:

YES!! yes absolutely! tbh i decided a while back he never gets an official promotion to general, everyone just calls him General Skywalker for so long that it sticks loll. BUT YEAH I mean working with a Jedi is rare and awe-inspiring enough for any rebellion cell but working with the hero with no fear??? half the rebels are wondering if they can interrupt this mission to ask for his autograph

its extra funny bc for the first few years of the empire he's lowkey depressed and like agh i failed the order republic AND my family i'm a terrible horrible no good jedi who nearly turned to the dark side and while he's having this spiral there's some rebel standing next to him pointing and pogging

and yeah he's SO useful in big battles like that!! he's half a legend, half a ghost story, given most ppl think he died in the Purge but here he is, enacting justice on the empire!! tho he does struggle on quieter missions (which happen a lot more at first bc gotta hide from the empire) that you cant just blaze into. its a difficult shift to go from clone wars general skywalker to rebel general skywalker

yeah 501st same as canon ): but OHHH MY GOD yes thats SUCH A PERFECT IDEA, Anakin going with Rex and Ahsoka to the site and mourning them all (and probably going into another depression spiral lbr)

youre so right lollll obvs leia loves the one up she has in an argument of "well my dad's general skywalker, beat that" but as u say she absolutely wants to live up to that (+ is a very independent/stubborn person and would like Leia Skywalker, not just "General Skywalker's daughter" lol)

AND YEAH ABSOLUTELY Padmé and Anakin's roles in this au are both so interesting (is that egotistical to say) bc they're these upside down versions of their clone wars roles, both very loud people forced to quieten down and be Discreet about how they go abt helping ppl. Padmé is really struggling hiding so much (luke's force sensitivity, her rebel activities, all relations to anakin) and trying to protect Luke while helping the Rebellion WHILE trying not to seem suspicious. a lot on her plate -- only made worse by palpatine keeping a close-ish eye on her, and she can't tell why (is it bc of luke? the rebellion? anakin? or is it just his old favouritism or patriotism being VERY inconvenient??)

on the inquisitors, obvs you don't see a lot of them on coruscant -- but padmé's SO scared abt ppl (MAINLY SIDIOUS WHO, YA KNOW, TRIED TO TURN LUKE'S DAD SITH) finding out abt him and she hates that she's making him repress this part of himself but what choice does she have???

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 2: The Revelation

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: hella abandonment, angst, mention of deceased character, banter, fluff, self-doubt, lore-building, reference to enslavement, reference to life-threatening danger.

Summary: In the evening, as the four of you arrive at the shelter, Obi-Wan becomes curious about your past from this time of rest and conversation. While Anakin and Ahsoka conduct repairs the next morning, Obi-Wan decides to stay behind to find answers, his unclear intentions putting you on edge. What he discovers, however, will change his, Anakin's, and the Galaxy's future forever.

Song Inspo: Superwoman — Alicia Keys

Words: 7.2K (it's a big boi)

A/n: THANK YOUUU for the wonderful messages, likes, and reblogs. You’ve made my week! I'm planning on making a taglist so message me if you'd like to be on it. Was so excited to write this one for y’all. Keep your thoughts coming 🥹 Also, poor obi (we mess with him a lil’ in this one 😅)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Sometimes a ‘mistake’ can end up being the best decision you’ve ever made — Mandy Hale

The journey to the shelter was tiring, but serene. Snow begun to fall a few hours into the trip, its accumulation gradually adding to the weight on your shoulders and boots. Yet you were distracted from the intensifying ache in every joint by the allure of nature’s frosty expanse. The beauty of each shimmering flake accented by the setting sun made you fall in love with Hoth all over again.

Oh, and that sunset. Its red and orange and yellow hues blended together in their final dance before dusk. A pleasant yet shocking contrast to the landscape’s muted whites and shaded grays.

Yes, it was challenging at times, and if you were truly honest with yourself, each moment felt like part of some long, never-ending trial. Everyday, the instant your skin met the chilly outdoors, you were perpetually on high alert. The wildlife was vicious and unpredictable, the terrain bare, the climate deadly.

But then, there were the majesties— the snowfall, the half-light shades, the way the light reflected off milky surfaces all around you. In moments like these, you felt deeply intertwined with the world, even though you’ve never really explored it. Yet despite your isolation, you’ve always found a way to make the most of it. You had a knack for manufacturing fun in the most bleak circumstances. But even that’s been hard to do in the last decade.

You missed him. You really did. And you wondered every second whether this would be the day he returned. Your friend, your mentor, your…

You couldn’t say it. Your heart ached boundlessly.

You’d tell him face-to-face once he returned. And you knew he’d return.

No matter how long he’d been away, sometimes months at a time, he would always bring you the most delectable treats from a place called Corellia. Sweet rolls, if you remember correctly. On the first day of visiting weeks, whether you were studying, training, or reading through old legends, the moment you heard the distant rumble of his shuttle’s engines, you took off sprinting. Up the ladder you’d go, holobooks thrown to the side in chaos, as you booked it to his favorite landing spot. You’d always forget your cloak, making your meeting with the freezing snow an unwelcome one. But you weren’t deterred, not even by the ship’s manufactured mini snow devils that swayed your stance and blinded your vision.

He was always quick to shut off the power before you reached him, opening the door to lightly reprimand you for getting too close to the ship when he was trying to land. But you had only one response.

“Did you bring the sweet rolls?”

And he would laugh, heartily. And reach into his robe to pull out the most mouthwatering fluffed sweet you’d ever seen. You’d grab it with a wide grin, biting your lip as you salivated before running back into the shelter. He’d smile gently at your retreating form. Not that you’ve ever seen it, but his fondness brimmed the air.

You’d wonder if he was reminiscing too, wherever he was. Maybe he was staring up at the same stars as you. Maybe he was on his way here at this very second.

“Y/n?”

Obi-Wan pulled you out of your fantasies with a gentle tap of the shoulder. You turned to him, continuing to walk alongside the man while Ahsoka and Anakin took their turn on Meetra. When you offered your spot to Obi-Wan an hour earlier, he declined, claiming he preferred to walk.

“Are we nearing the shelter? I don’t see any structures around us.” He questioned while observing his surroundings.

“Don’t worry,” you reassured. “It’s right up here.”

You took a few more steps, checking the distance for certain landmarks. The batch of ice caves to the Southeast stood about two kilometers from the small, folded ice mountains to the West. Yes, this looked right, you thought to yourself before kneeling to the ground.

The travelers watched you quizzically as you began to shovel away snow with your hands and arms, the sleet melting and soaking into your thick gloves. Anakin and Ahsoka demounted, inching closer to get a better look. After a few more labored scoops of hardened ice, a glimmer caught your eye. You cleared the sludge collecting around the metal panel, finding a handle, and pulling it up. The hatch fell open with a clang.

“I live beneath the surface.”

You pulled the sack off your back and dragged it in front of you, opening it slightly to grab a few tufts of lichen which you promptly tossed over to Meetra. She huffed contently, leaning over to enjoy her feast. After closing the bag and tossing it back over your shoulder, you shuffled to position yourself over the entryway ladder before beginning the climb down. One at a time, each traveler followed your descent.

—

Obi-Wan reached the bottom of the rickety ladder that swayed with each step before turning to take in the dimly lit shelter. He was amazed. The older Jedi soon realized that the entire structure was an old starship encased in thick ice and packed snow. There were stacks of holobooks, even some hard copy novels, scattered across the left wall around an old, tattered bunk. A built-in desk sat on the opposite side, a datapad lying neatly in the center. Most notably, colorful blankets with varying patterns, thickness, and textures were strewn throughout the cabin, some neatly folded and others stretched out like a Tooka cat. A large maroon curtain with reflective gold stitches and floral tones hung toward the far end, likely concealing a separate room. A table and two chairs stood in the nearby corner. Steel storage tins often used to store smaller items on starships were scattered against the walls, contents unknown.

“Your quarters are beautiful!” Ahsoka exclaimed as her feet met the floor.

She strolled right over to a particular forest green-based textile with honey-shaded swirls. The young Padawan lifted it, feeling the charming item between her fingers. “Where did you get all of these colorful fabrics?”

“I’m not sure. They were all gifts from a friend.”

Obi-Wan noticed your downcast expression as you turned away from the group, placing your bag on the desk.

Meanwhile, Anakin examined the shelter’s walls by the holobooks, similarly feeling the material with the pads of his fingers. He checked its thickness with a light knock.

“Huh,” he thought out loud, before turning toward the gracious host. “Is this a scouting vessel? It reminds me of something I’ve read about the old Duros vessels.”

Obi-Wan hid his astonishment, biting his tongue to hide a cheeky comment about Anakin’s reading escapades that seeped into his thoughts.

You turned back around, this time with a bright smile resting on your face. “Yes, it is! It’s been here long before I ever was.”

Anakin continued to pore over his surroundings, lightly crossing each arm.

“Do you know a lot about ancient vessels?” You inquired before opening the sack and pulling out a clump of… moss? You promptly examined it. “I’ve collected lots of information about them. It helps me understand this shelter better. You’ll probably find something about your ship in one of my holobooks, depending on its age.”

Obi-Wan watched as you finished your botanical observations, placing the moss on your desk.

“Thanks!” Anakin said, kneeling to inspect your collection. “Snips?” He motioned at Ahsoka who promptly joined him.

As the two searched for information about the shuttle from your extensive collection, Obi-Wan decided to try approaching you once more. He walked slowly, but confidently, warning you with his presence with a question.

“What is that?”

Your eyes grazed his briefly before returning your focus, pulling apart the mystery plant.

“This, is lichen.” You answered. “It needs time and space to defrost.”

You glanced at Obi-Wan who was slightly taken aback by the intensity of your unnaturally shimmering silver eyes staring deep into his, but he didn’t dare show it.

“Eat it before it’s fully defrosted and your stomach will not be happy.”

The older Jedi raised his eyebrows in amusement. “Duly noted.” He paused, combing over your words once more. “Is this what you’ve survived on during your time here?”

“Only recently.” You shook some ice dollops off a particularly shaggy clump of lichen. “I used to get rations and the occasional batch of medicinal goods, but that was many years ago.”

Obi-Wan’s head tilted. “Oh? What changed? Did cargo ships stop coming to Hoth?”

“No. Cargo ships had no reason to be here. The occasional group of hunters, sure. But as long as I’ve been here, I’ve never seen any working civilization that requested supplies.”

“So, who aided you?” He asked.

“A friend.”

He hummed, pulling at a strand of hair and twisting it with his fingers. Obi-Wan was intrigued by your vagueness, hoping to further inquire into your story and learn the details you seemed to openly avoid sharing.

“Here,” you tossed him a large clump of lichen.

He barely caught it against his chest in surprise, surveying you in delighted curiosity.

“Get to work,” you teased.

He smiled, pausing to watch you carefully before copying your actions with the frigid, crystallized vegetation. The olive-tinted herb felt rough beneath his fingers, and as he pulled it apart, he thought to himself.

There seemed to be more to you. Obi-Wan believed this largely in view of his past exposure to secluded beings. These encounters granted the bearded Jedi broad experience with aloof, nefarious, and aggressive personalities from pirates to wartime saboteurs. Yet his superficial impressions of your disposition— outward confidence and affable charisma— did not align with these assumptions.

That ushered him toward a new rationalization— you may not be here by choice. It could potentially explain your obscurity, Obi-Wan thought. Especially if you were being held here against your will, and feared your detainer. If he wanted to at least see if he could help, Obi-Wan would need to gather more information. It was the least he could do given the warmth you’ve shown three stranded Jedi, or who you thought were lost travelers.

“Found it!” Ahsoka yelled from behind Obi-Wan.

He finished tearing his last moss clod, leaving it on the desk before turning around.

“Emissary-class shuttle owner’s workshop manual.” She sighed with relief with a victorious beam as she shook the holobook in the air to make her point.

Obi-Wan watched as Anakin squinted at the media before turning to you quizzically. “Why do you have a holobook dedicated to obscure ancient manuals?”

“There isn’t much else to do as the sole sentient being on an ice planet,” you deadpanned.

Obi-Wan internally chuckled at your infallible logic.

Anakin seemed equally unimpressed. “Touché.”

Obi-Wan was shocked by how effectively a stranger dealt with Anakin’s lip. No argument, no snide remark from his former Padawan. Just, acceptance.

He gazed at you, really stared, hoping to get a stronger sense of your force. To better understand you. But when he concentrated on your life energy, he couldn’t find it. Despite the Force’s link to everything in the galaxy, it seemed that didn’t include you.

Maybe you were, in fact, a criminal. Extremely adept at hiding the truth. Obi-Wan thought it quite possible that he missed key indications of illicitness, thanks to this strangely dormant force signature within you. In that case, he would need to stay on guard. It would be unfortunate if the group of Jedi had to defend against an attempted robbery in addition to crash landing on a deserted ice planet, even if it was three to one. But it would be even more serious if this whole meeting was instead a larger Separatist ploy to isolate and trap two powerful generals. But Obi-Wan wouldn’t let that theory hold much water for long. He knew war had made him somewhat paranoid. Either way, the older Jedi found it necessary to learn more about you during this accidental detour to Hoth.

You interrupted the silence before he could continue his analysis.

“There will be plenty of time to read the manual in the morning.” You advised. “I recommend you all sleep soon. The shelter keeps us warmer underground, but the temperature will still drop drastically soon. It’s best to sleep through it.”

Obi-Wan was warmed by your compassion. “Thank you for your concern.”

He turned to his former Padawan with a knowing look. It was doubtful that Anakin would follow your instructions, he thought. But it’s still better to be polite. At least Obi-Wan certainly knew from the pull of his eyelids and the discomfort in his knees that he would accept your guidance. Even if you were a criminal, it was nearly impossible to steal from a Jedi, even during sleep.

“We will take your advice.”

“Feel free to use the various linens. The bunk is also open to you. Good night.”

Obi-Wan watched as you turned on your heel and walked toward the curtains behind you, disappearing behind them.

He stared at the shimmering, dark red screen that separated the two of you. His conclusion was that you were an enigma, and Obi-Wan found that fascinating. His curiosity was always piqued by the unknown, which would drive his exploratory mind. There seemed to be so much more to you, but he could only scratch the surface. Your intelligence, kindness, and resourcefulness reminded him of great leaders’ and soldiers’ personalities. And yet, here you were, a solitudinarian on a distant planet in the Outer Rim, spending your days reading old holobooks or collecting moss. More and more, he doubted that you had any unlawful connections. But there was still surely more to your story.

He needed to learn who you were, how you got here, and the identity of this mysterious friend, hoping that these answers assured you were here by choice. As a Jedi, however, he was primarily obligated to discover why he failed to register your life force. He wished, no, he found it imperative to solve this mystery before departing from the planet. Though he also hoped to respect your privacy, not prod into your being and mind when you were winding down to rest. Obi-Wan hoped to avoid that altogether unless absolutely necessary. He was The Negotiator after all, and he knew well that gathering information through a conversation rather than prying at your mind would lead to more trust and a clearer picture in the long run.

Obi-Wan’s ears caught shuffling behind him. He twisted to watch Ahsoka collect a few fabrics across the floor while Anakin hunkered down around the holobooks with a few nearby blankets. Obi-Wan snapped a mental image of the scene. He doubted he would ever again have the rare privilege to glimpse at Anakin and a pile of holobooks so intimately collected with brows dipped in concentration. He was clearly desperate to leave this planet, a cold twin to Tatooine. The moment they landed, Obi-Wan was sure that in the back of Anakin’s mind, he was struggling with his memories as a slave boy. This detour was too much of a reminder. Manuals and shuttle specs seemed to serve as his distraction, but he knew it wasn’t enough.

The older Jedi too began to prepare for night, strolling over to the empty cot. He sat in the center, elbows digging into each knee as he rested his chin on the backs of his fingers. For the first time in weeks, Obi-Wan felt comfortable, safe even. There was no last-minute mission, no sleeping on a battlefield, no late-night reports. And it was quiet, peaceful. He scanned the shelter once more, thinking he might get the best sleep he’s had in months.

And he was right.

—

You woke slowly, gently granting your mind room to register its consciousness. Your limbs stirred, testing the width of your linens. In time, each eye relaxed open. Stretching both arms, you sat up, settling into reality as you observed your comfy surroundings in dull lighting. Your bed was soft beneath you with four layers of blankets weighing your form down in its warmth. All that fit in the pilot’s cabin was your bed with limited walking room, but you enjoyed the small space with its elevated concentration of heat and bare walls.

The exhaustion and excitement of yesterday’s trek slowed your morning routine. Your thighs ached from the hours traveling with Meetra, and the detour didn’t help. Glancing at your damp gear sprawled on the floor, you determined it would be at least another couple of hours until your boots, gloves, and fur cloak had dried. You fell back into the mattress with a sigh, bouncing slightly at the impact. You would have been happy to rest for a few more hours. But the moment your head hit the pillow, you knew there was too much to do to lie around. Primarily, addressing the three travelers in the main cabin.

You threw your legs off the bed’s side and pushed yourself off to stand, tossing on a thinner cloak that hung next to you before drawing back the curtains in a slight stumble. Perhaps you should have taken more time to wake.

“Good morning.”

You looked up at Obi-Wan who sat comfortably at your table, legs folded and Holobook in hand.

“Mornin’.” You replied with a smile.

With a stronger gate, you sauntered toward the pile of lichen that had defrosted overnight. A ravenous ache pulled at your stomach as you reached the desk to determine its digestibility. In that moment, you realized you’d forgotten to have supper, and now you were suffering the consequences. Nevertheless, A quick test of the lichen’s plasticity between your index finger and thumb brought out its slimy texture. Perfect. Breakfast was soon to be served.

You briefly glanced back at Obi-Wan. He seemed engrossed in the text before him. “I’m glad you’re enjoying my collection.”

“You have more holobooks of The Old Republic legends than I’ve ever known any one individual to own.” He exclaimed, eyes glued to the screen.

“They’re my favorite stories.”

You leaned over beside the desk to reach into a storage box, pulling out a pair of plates and a couple forks. While in the middle of placing them on the desk, you suddenly recalled exactly who those stories were about.

“Sleep well?” You quickly interjected. The slight pause turned your head. Obi-Wan looked as if he was about to sneeze right at you, but it was more likely that you’d interrupted him mid-thought with your change in topic.

Seemingly disappointed, he readjusted, rolling his shoulders and returning to his story.

“Yes, I did.”

You began to line the plates with lichen. “You and your companions are welcome to my facilities. There’s a trapdoor behind the curtain that will lead you there.”

His features lightened once more. “I’m quite alright.”

Obi-Wan rotated, this time fully facing you in his seat, uncrossing his legs with a hand loosely holding the holobook to the side. “Are you usually this kind to strange travelers?”

Having finished plating the lichen, you picked up both dishes, making your way over to Obi-Wan.

“Only the charming ones.” You winked as you placed breakfast on the table.

Obi-Wan chuckled at your whit, but couldn’t hide the light blush that grazed his cheeks. He quickly buried his face back into the holobook, but you wouldn’t make it that easy.

“Where did everyone go?” You asked.

You used your fork to stick then toss a clump of lichen in your mouth. Its musty tang perfumed your senses, leaving a bitter aftertaste as it slipped along your tongue.

He examined the food before him curiously, picking up a fork to test its consistency.

“They went to fix the shuttle. Anakin stayed up all night reading that manual of yours then departed early this morning with Ahsoka.” He lifted a small piece and took an experimental bite.

“Where does he find the energy?” You exclaimed as you observed him struggle to swallow politely. You tried to hide your faint giggle with a cough.

He shrugged. “Only the Maker knows.”

The cabin echoed with the light clinking of your fork and plate as you continued to eat. “So why are you here?”

Obi-Wan eyed you pointedly. “I enjoy your company far more.”

Despite his confident demeanor, you sensed his intentions reached far beyond his outward manner. It didn’t feel malicious at all. Just, different. As if courtesy and inquisitiveness were not his only motivations.

Your imagination must be getting the best of you, you thought, brushing off your concerns fairly quickly. The man didn’t look like he could hurt a Saccorian grain fly. It was easy to assume that strangers on Hoth had ulterior motives, largely due to your many dealings with pirates and hunters in the last few years. Yet you continued to help them when you crossed paths, even though you were often betrayed. Whether that meant a robbery attempt or something more nefarious. But no matter the threat, no stranger on Hoth has ever posed much danger to you. This wouldn’t be very different.

“Do you say that to all the singular planetary beings you meet?” You teased.

He relaxed into a gentle smirk, returning to the holobook confidently. “Only the kind-hearted ones.”

You beamed at his charm.

Yet, concern still tugged at the back of your mind. He still seemed to be hiding something.

“So how did you come to Hoth?” He inquired.

You struggled internally for a moment as you examined the man. There was no cloud covering that statement, no alternative meaning. It appeared he hoped to understand you better out of pure curiosity, and not for any personal gain.

But why? Why not aid his companions to hasten their escape from this icy trap? Because your company was so pleasant? No, something wasn’t adding up. You must have been reading him wrong. Best to keep it vague. To stay safe, and keep your promise.

“I was brought here when I was young. There are some dangerous people who aren’t my biggest fan.”

Obi-Wan’s eyebrow lifted as he watched you carefully. “Dangerous people? What did you do?”

You grinned, finding his overly troubled demeanor for the safety of a stranger endearing.

“Nothing yet. They just don’t like the idea of what I might do because of an old story.”

Obi-Wan nodded, unconvinced. “And I assume your friend brought you here.”

“Yes, he understood my background and brought me here to train.”

Obi-Wan perked up, raising his eyebrows. “To train you?” He questioned, staring intently.

His interest was beginning to concern you. It was time for you to be more cautious when formulating responses.

“To protect myself.”

“Ah,” he nodded, but a hair dissatisfied. “What is he like?” He leaned back again with the holobook, as if pretending to be less interested. “You friend.”

“Well,” you thought for a moment. “I suppose he’s more like a mentor.”

His eyes shot up, and you hesitated once more. Obi-Wan must have noticed as he conveyed an encouraging smile, motioning for you to continue while returning to his story.

You sighed, looking up at the ceiling, your lichen long forgotten as you tried to picture him. You endeavored to visualize your memories on the cold, rounded metal hull above.

“He’s wise, soft-spoken, the kindest man you’d ever meet.” You emphasized. “He always makes sure I’m focusing on the here and now.”

You paused.

“Sometimes I’d put the weight of the world on my shoulders and he would always knock me down a peg.” A laugh escaped you, head falling in mirth.

Obi-Wan’s warm eyes glistened as you calmed. You took a moment to ruminate further, returning your gaze upwards, nose wrinkling.

“I-“ you paused as a wave of sadness washed over you. “I miss him.”

You looked back down at Obi-Wan. A swirl of emotions played on his face. Sympathy, mostly, but an air of curiosity seemed to bubble underneath.

“He sounds lovely.”

His words felt authentic, but the battle within Obi-Wan that danced so clearly around him was hard to ignore. You were beginning to question your delicate trust in the man. The many questions with veiled intent suggested that he may know your true identity. And if he avoided asking you directly, it could point to dark motives, or a malicious plan.

His highly inquisitive behavior up to this point had subconsciously fueled your anxiety. Your suspicions could no longer be shunned. Despite hoping to steer clear of invading the privacy of these travelers, it seemed that you had no choice. You needed to know more. For your own sake, if not for your mentor’s. He told you to stay safe, and you weren’t going to break that promise. Avoiding scrutinizing this group’s true intentions was too much of a risk to that.

His eyes were still set on you, so you returned the favor. You stared deeply into his gaze, preparing to investigate the roots of his being, until you saw it. In the reflection of his eyes, something strange sparkled. You refocused your vision on his retinas, a crease forming on your forehead. And what you saw felt like lighting to your core.

You launched from your chair, knocking it over as you stumbled a few steps away from the stranger, mouth hung open and eyes wide.

“Who are you?” You asked firmly, making each vowel distinct.

You felt tricked, made a fool. You let your guard down a few times in these many years of caution, but this time would be terribly different. This wasn’t the average hunter or trader. This was an entirely different animal. And you were about to pay the price of this mistake with your life. Unless, you did something quick.

Obi-Wan, on the other hand, seemed perplexed at your sudden change. He watched you with concern.

“Are you alright?” He acted carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”

But this time, you refused to believe his seemingly empty words. “No more games.”

He slowly stood with his hands up as if surrendering while your backward creep accelerated.

“Who are you?! How did you find me?!” Your patience was wearing thin.

Obi-Wan took a wary step forward, hands remaining lifted. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Another step.

“Could you explain?”

You felt the curtain brush against the pads of your fingers as you finally reached it. His continued steady approach had you feeling cornered. It was time to act now. You slipped your right hand behind the divide, feeling the wall for your hanging weapon while keeping your sight trained on Obi-Wan.

Finally, you felt the cold metal hilt. You wrapped your fingers around it and held it tight, keeping it trained behind the curtain.

“I’m warning you…”

He took another step forward.

There was no longer a choice. You activated and thrust your lightsaber in front of you, its gray hue created a pocket of hot light in the shelter between the two of you. Its tip hung inches from his chest.

“Not. Another. Step.” You warned rigidly.

—

Obi-Wan’s mind was racing. New thoughts and questions stumbled over each other in an endless stampede of disorientation.

Hours ago, he advised Anakin and Ahsoka to attempt shuttle repairs without him for the chance to discover your truth. He was convinced now that you were no thief. The older Jedi checked his pockets and lightsaber to ensure everything was in place when he awoke at daybreak. It would have been the best opportunity to strike, and yet, you didn’t take it.

Obi-Wan’s priorities centered. He needed to understand why your life force was unreadable, why your presence on this planet was shrouded in mystery, and why a person who seemed so dedicated to others chose to live in isolation, assuming you had any say in the matter.

When he explored your collections this morning, Obi-Wan was intrigued by the sheer number of Old Republic Jedi tales included. He found it especially telling when you claimed they were your favorite, but lost the opportunity to probe that declaration further.

Regardless of this small success, Obi-Wan’s efforts to connect with your signal proved fruitless. As the breakfast conversation continued, he tried to explore the space around and within you. But still, he felt, nothing. No matter how deeply he engrained himself into the Force, he could not glean one iota of life from you. It obfuscated his mind with theories as he struggled to rationalize this anomaly, but not one postulation had real merit.

So, he switched tactics, relying on his talents as a master negotiator. Yet even then, he perceived little progress. Obi-Wan did gain ground when he learned why you’ve spent so many years alone on Hoth. He was interested, yet bothered, by the possible threat to your life, wondering how a being so harmless could attract such dangers. Such conclusions opened the door to more inquiries.

But then, he learned about your ‘friend.’ How he taught you self-defense and emanated qualities of insight, thoughtfulness, and tranquility— all characteristics that were highly familiar to the Jedi. He reasoned, no, hoped that his suspicions were correct. That he knew this unidentified man. But just when he was about to pose that quintessential query, something went exceptionally wrong.

Now he stood very cautiously, hoping to de-escalate this rapidly spiraling situation.

At least one question had been answered. He finally felt a strong force signature within you, like water through a collapsed dam. And if all was calm, he may have even asked you how you were able to so completely conceal your energy readings.

But now, there were many, far more pressing inquiries that mandated answers, he thought, as he stared down the blade of a Gray Jedi.

“Y/n.” Obi-Wan soothed, dropping his arms beside him. “I promise I will not harm you. And I will respond to any questions you may have about who we are. But I must ask you something very important first.” He watched you closely for any change, but all he could feel was frustrated suspicion radiating off your figure.

“First, you tell me who you really are.” You demanded.

“I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, a Jedi. We are tasked with preserving peace in the galaxy.” He explained, clasping his hands behind him.

“You’re a Jedi?” You questioned, the lightsaber’s point faltering slightly.

“Yes,” he continued in a calm, clear tone. “Y/n, I must know the name of your friend.”

You hesitated, causing his eyes to soften. Whatever he did to scare you profoundly triggered deep regret within him. He hoped to regain the trust of a possibly abandoned Jedi, especially if his speculations proved true.

“Please.” He breathed.

You loosened ever so slightly. “His name is Qui-Gon Jinn.”

Even though he somewhat surmised this truth, Obi-Wan was still taken aback. He took a step away, turning from you as he tried to wipe off the shock pooling around his parted lips. He sensed you further lower your lightsaber in confusion, now aiming it at the ground.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply as he reminisced about his former master. He remembers the many times throughout the years in which Qui-Gon disappeared without informing him or The Council of his travels. He always thought it was just his Master’s nature. His independence and desire to make his own path shine through. Little did Obi-Wan know, Qui-Gon Jinn was raising and training a new Padawan in secret. Yet still, some young piece of Obi-Wan was not surprised. This certainly seemed like something his old Master would do.

He turned back to you, a wistful expression poking through his racing thoughts. “Qui-Gon Jinn was my master.”

He watched as you deactivated your saber, letting your arm fall to the side at this revelation. Your lips slightly parted, eyes searching the older Jedi for any possible mistake before reluctantly settling into the truth. “Was?”

Obi-Wan sighed. “He died ten years ago fighting the Sith on Naboo.”

Horror invaded your features. Waves of sadness and despair poured out of your being as you gently staggered to a nearby wall, steadying against it with your head hanging between your arms. Obi-Wan’s heart dropped, knowing all too well how you felt. He swiftly moved behind you, gently squeezing your shoulder.

“I’m so very sorry,” he whispered into your ear.

Obi-Wan felt your shoulder rise and fall as long, shaky breaths filled the air. He couldn’t imagine not only losing your Master, but likely the only other being you’ve truly known. The blue-eyed Jedi realized your world was crashing down before you.

But somehow, after only a few moments, your breathing stabilized. Slowly, you stood up straight, removing your hands from the wall to turn to him. Deep roots of sorrow controlled your features, your face loosely stained with a few stray tears. Removing his hand from your shoulder, he watched you with anticipation.

“I think he told me about you.” Your eyes tethered to the ground.

Obi-Wan felt a morsel of hope tug at his chest as he watched you sympathetically. The possibility of learning something new about his former Master was tantalizing. After so many meditation sessions in which he failed to connect with Qui-Gon’s spirit, this could be his chance to feel tethered to his Master one last time.

“He told me that you worried too much.” A reminiscing smile graced your lips.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him, relaxing shoulders he didn’t realize were tense. “That sounds like Master Jinn.”

Your sparkling, silver eyes met his intensely. "It's not how it sounds. It was his way of building my confidence."

Your sudden beam at the memory left Obi-Wan in awe of your strength. Your gaze trailed to your holobook collection.

“I read all these stories of amazingly powerful Jedi who seemed invincible in the face of the most dire odds.” He watched you motion to the piles of knowledge. “I never felt like I could quite live up to their memory, but Qui-Gon was always sure to remind me that like all great Jedi.” You paused to send him a lighthearted smirk through dejected eyes. “Including his Padawan, I had no need to worry. The Force would help me grow into the Jedi I’m meant to be.” Sincerity seeped from your words.

Obi-Wan felt as if the hole in his heart punctured at Naboo ten years ago just experienced its first stitch. To find another piece of Qui-Gon, another connection to him, was a dream made reality. Not just by words he never heard him say, but through you, his secret Padawan.

Although there was still much for him to learn, he already found you to be one of the more idyllic Jedi he’s met. Not only in your strong connection to the Force, but from your person. The fortitude, compassion, and honesty you’ve shown in only a day is an example often demonstrated to initiates. That thought brought him back to a question he needed answered.

“But why?” Obi-Wan exclaimed to no one in particular. He turned on his heel to pace in thought, a hand gently resting below his chin. “Why did Qui-Gon bring you here? Allow you to live your days in isolation?” He spun back around, now directing his thoughts at you. “Who was he hiding you from that The Order could not face? Did he even tell The Council?”

You sighed, your eyes falling down to your hands where you gently circled your thumb into your palm. “He hid me from the world, and The Council, because of the prophecy.”

Obi-Wan cocked his head. A prophecy? Another prophecy?

“What prophecy?”

You looked off into the distance. And while your vision was limited by the small confines of an ancient ship buried underground, Obi-Wan thought your eyes were taking you quadrants away. Then, you faced him.

“You should probably sit down.”

He followed the guidance of your hand as it lifted to lead the way back toward the table. The sound of wooden chairs slightly scratching across rusted metal colored the sudden stillness. Obi-Wan settled, glancing at you only to notice your eyes glued to the peeling Japor ivory below. Your finger graced a discolored patch with interest. Obi-Wan waited patiently, hands clasped before him, your hesitation driving his curiosity through the hull.

You raised your vision. “The prophecy tells of a protector, a guide, known as The Guardian. It tells of a Jedi to be discovered and trained outside of The Order.”

“A Gray Jedi...” Obi-Wan mused aloud.

“Yes.” You confirmed.

Obi-Wan’s mind circled through your words. “And who does The Guardian protect?”

“The Chosen One. The Guardian must do whatever is necessary to stand between the Sith and The Chosen One so that they may return balance to the Force.” You explained.

Obi-Wan watched as you peeked at him, a sudden amusement dancing upon your lashes.

“It certainly puts a target on my back for anyone who doesn’t want that to happen.” You chuckled.

Obi-Wan sent you a thin look of disapproval at your dark joke before returning to his thoughts. In all his research about The Chosen One when preparing to be Anakin’s Master, he not once saw mention of The Guardian.

Obi-Wan’s brows furrowed. “I’ve never heard of this.” He admitted quietly.

“Few have. Qui-Gon discovered the legend by chance in the Holocron Vault when he was retrieving something for his Master. I think he said it was part of the Jedi Archives at The Temple, but you’d know better than me.”

“You’re correct.” He confirmed.

You nodded gratefully. “Anyways, from what I understand, The Council feared this aspect of The Chosen One’s prophecy because of its transparent separation from The Order. So they hid it away.”

Obi-Wan took a moment to gather his thoughts. The ramifications of your words were astounding. Another entity, willed into existence by the Force, with the purpose of aiding Anakin on his journey. In a sense, he felt relieved, like a burden lifted from his conscience. Qui-Gon was supposed to train Anakin, but when he passed, the duty fell to him. He never really felt ready, stumbling through ways to guide the young Jedi when he himself had only just become a Knight. But it seems as if the Force works in mysterious ways.

He was equally disturbed by the prophesy’s wording. If a Guardian was needed to protect The Chosen One from the Sith, it suggested that Anakin’s fate was not sealed on the side of the light. And that terrified him. Anakin always struggled with his place within The Order, and while he was very proud of the man he’s grown into, he knew that Anakin still grappled with his intense fears and deep-seated anger.

“I need to know.”

Obi-Wan returned from his thoughts, motioning for you to continue. You watched him for a moment. Obi-Wan could see the gears turn through complicated maneuvers in your head. Then, determination settled on your face.

“Are you The Chosen One?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “No, not me.”

He noticed your brows crease in confusion. Quickly, the older Jedi played over the morning’s events. His mind centered on what started this conversation in the first place.

“Is that why you were afraid?”

You shot him a questioning look. “I was not afraid, I was shocked.” You staunchly defended, erupting within him a subtle sense of amusement.

But the sudden downcast of your eyes changed his tune.

“I thought you were a Sith.” You candidly explained.

This time it was Obi-Wan’s turn for shock to contort his features. “A Sith?! Whatever gave you that idea?”

“It’s the beard.” You said stone-eyed, pretending to scratch phantom whiskers on your face with an embellishing movement of the fingers.

Obi-Wan nearly choked on air.

You burst out laughing, holding your stomach for good measure. Obi-Wan, however, was unimpressed with your antics.

He leaned back, crossing his arms as an exceedingly light smile garnished his feigned displeasure. “Very funny.”

Your cackle died down before you seemed to relax back into the gravity of the situation.

“In all seriousness,” you began, taking a moment to compose yourself. “When I looked into your eyes, I saw the reflection of my own, and they were silver.”

“And?” Obi-Wan questioned, not seeing the point of her observation.

“Obi-Wan.” You sighed, glancing down at your hands, which you now had clasped together on the table before you.

You raised your head, staring into his gaze once more. And to Obi-Wan, it felt as if you were gazing into his soul.

“My eyes are y/e/c.”

The older Jedi’s jaw fell open as his eyebrows raised. He was dumbfounded, not understanding how that was possible. The first thing he noticed when he met you at the crash site was your extraordinarily bright, silver eyes.

“The legend says, that when The Guardian’s journey begins, it will initiate their transformation. Their eyes will begin to shine the color of their fate.”

Obi-Wan hummed. “And how does that journey begin?”

“By meeting someone tied to their fate.”

Then, it clicked. “Ah, a Sith or The Chosen One.”

“Exactly.”

A hush washed over the two of you as Obi-Wan considered the connotation of your eyes. The two passionate orbs that dotted your face shined a color with deep meaning.

“And your eyes are silver. The color of balance, purity, peace.” He mused, a hand lightly stroking his cheek in contemplation.

“Which hopefully reflects the future.” You countered.

Obi-Wan’s eyes sparkled almost as bright as yours. “A hope we share.”

However, once more, his countenance was shrouded in rumination at a discrepancy.

“But your lightsaber is gray.”

He noticed the corner of your eyes crinkle. “My journey has just begun.”

Obi-Wan matched your expression. “Of course, and was Qui-Gon able to prepare you before…” he trailed off.

You exhaled. “He taught me everything I know, but I must admit, most of my saber and force training was advanced through The Muntuur in the last years.”

Intrigue gripped Obi-Wan, edging him to lean toward you, hands gliding along the table. “The Muntuur?”

“An ancient Jedi training gadget Qui-Gon found abandoned on a distant planet. He never told me where.”

“Interesting.” Obi-Wan mused. “I’d like to analyze this device, if that is alright with you.”

“That’s fine. But first, I must know.” You watched him keenly. “Who is The Chosen One?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to answer when a light thud sounded behind him, followed by a ripple of frosty wind against the back of his neck.

“Y/n, I could hug you!” Obi-Wan heard. He turned in time to see Anakin jump down the shelter’s entrance with a wide grin, avoiding the ladder completely in his excitement. Ahsoka made a similar entrance, her lips quirked up.

“That manual was detailed enough for me to salvage secondary parts from other sectors of the shuttle in the repairs! Who knew that bucket of bolts had so many adaptable segments? Had to use every single one.”

Anakin froze mid-saunter, a meager speechlessness overcoming him as he seemed to register the humorless faces watching him from the table, including his former Master who was particularly annoyed. Obi-Wan watched the young Jedi rub his hands together, partly from the freezing outdoors but mostly, it seemed, in an attempt to cut the tension.

“Am I interrupting something?” He chuckled nervously.

Obi-Wan spoke. “Anakin, we need to talk.”

“Is he…”

“Yes.” He finished your thought, glancing back at you to glean your reaction to that sudden divulgence.

“Wow.” You mumbled before sending Anakin an earnest look.

“You should probably sit down.”

[i-am-focused]

I Owe You One

Mandalorian x reader (it's from his perspective)

Summary: The Mandalorian hates Hoth, it's cold and his armor can only keep him so warm but he has a bounty that's there. In the search for this bounty he finds you half dead from the cold and brings you back to the Razor crest to warm you up, and he does.

Warnings: 18+. smut, thighjob

Word count - 2.1k

There was almost nothing he hated more than the cold. So of course, his next bounty had to have gone to Hoth. After a narrow escape from Maldo Kries it seemed yet another ice planet was his destination. Cold weather was one of the times other than battle or interrogation that he was actually very thankful for his armor, insulated and heated, it helped him stay relatively warm beneath the beskar.

He had considered declining the bounty just to avoid the planet altogether; it wasn't a high reward, just a runaway with rich parents, some prince or son of a lord. At least it wasn’t too difficult to find people here, using the visor’s thermal vision meant it would be fairly easy to see any life on the nearly entirely barren planet. Scanning the planet's surface as he flew over, the remains of Imperial walkers stood out against the landscape, wreckage that someone looking to hide out would probably head towards. 

After landing the Razor Crest roughly a hundred yards from the potential hideout, he exited the craft, scanning the area of the abandoned war machine for any heat signature other than ice and metal. 

Just about ready to get back out of the freezing wind and seek shelter on the heated ship, he saw a glimpse of something, a little bit of red in the otherwise blue tones of the thermal setting. He walked slowly towards it, clutching his blaster and trying to soften the crunch of snow under his boots. 

He was barely five feet away from the outline of a figure in the cold when he realized that something was off. He wasn’t having much luck keeping quiet, even with the howling wind muffling his steps, and the figure hadn’t moved. Additionally the body heat that was present seemed weaker than it should be, if the heat he saw was the bounty, he didn’t know if he was even still alive. But at least it would be easier to capture him. 

Taking in a breath he rounded the corner to see you sitting there. Curled up and unconscious.

It looked like you had just wandered into the first shelter you saw and passed out. But you definitely weren’t the bounty. You were covered in snow and your whole body was shaking violently with hypothermia. Cursing to himself, he dragged you back to the ship, laying you on the floor and engaging some security protocols to prevent any unexpected visitors while he was trying to keep you alive. You might have information on the bounty and he needed to get off of this Maker-forsaken planet. 

He pulled you into the refresher, he wasn’t exactly comfortable with removing your layers of frost covered clothing, but if he didnt you would certainly die. He removed everything except your tank top and underwear, fetching some other clothes he had lying so as to not leave you exposed on some strangers ship, one of his own shirts as well as some shorts that had somehow found their way onto the ship. 

Once you were no longer covered in snow and damp clothing, he wrapped you in a blanket and laid you on his cot, setting up a heater nearby and layering another blanket on top for good measure. You were still shivering, but he was at least mostly confident you’d make it through. He was also mostly confident that whenever you woke up, you were probably going to be more than a little freaked out. He sighed. He was tired, he didn’t need you waking up and killing him before he had the chance to stop you, so he cuffed your wrists and closed off the cot before heading up to the cockpit to attempt to catch a wink of sleep. 

******

He had probably been asleep for about an hour before he was awoken to the sound of clattering and pounding against the metal door that sealed the sleeping pod. He made his way down to the hull, standing in front of the doors and preparing himself for whatever you were going to pull when he opened that door. Sighing, he pressed a button on his gauntlet. 

When the door slid open he saw you sitting there, staring at him with wide eyes, still shivering from hypothermia. 

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“You first.”

He wasn’t in the mood for any sort of game, he just needed this bounty. 

“Where am I? Where did you take me?”

“Hoth.”

You paused, seeming relieved that he hadn’t taken you off planet. Bizarre considering his own thoughts about the planet, he almost wished someone would shove him in a ship and take him just so that he could leave. 

“Why am I on your ship?”

“You were dying, so I brought you here.”

“Oh yeah? So just a good samaritan huh?” 

“Nope, just looking for a bounty,” He took the bounty puck out of his side pocket, showing you the face of the man he was looking for, “Seen him before?”

“Oh yeah, I saw him at the cantina yesterday, can I go now?”

Your sarcastic tone made him almost regret letting you onto the ship, wasting resources on someone that apparently wanted to die alone in a snowdrift.

“Yes, you can leave now.” 

He opened the ramp, letting in a freezing wind chill that made you flinch. He gestured at the exit, welcoming you to leave back into the same situation as where you were before. Except this time, you didn't have boots, socks, pants, a coat, damn near anything you had before. You looked at him, frustrated and unable to come up with a quick enough retort. After a few seconds he closed the ramp. 

“Okay. So now I hope you see your situation. I saved your life, you’d be dead in a snow drift if it wasn’t for me. You owe me, so let’s cut the attitude since you're not dead, you’re on my ship, and in my bed.”

You looked at him blankly. He held up the bounty puck one more time. 

“So, have you seen this man?”

“No.” 

You settled back into the blankets. Giving up on fighting him anymore and reluctantly accepting your current situation. 

“Now that you’re awake, get out of my cot.” 

Sleeping in the pilot's seat was not an enjoyable experience and he didn’t feel so bad now that he knew you were rude and that you would be fine if he cuffed you to a chair with a heater nearby. 

“No.”

“Yes. Get out or I’ll make you get out.”

“Why can’t you just get in? I’ve been sleeping on rocks and snow for almost a week, I don’t take up the whole cot anyway.”

He didn’t want you in the cot, but he didn’t know what you were capable of and he would probably be more comfortable having you where he knew you couldn’t get out of the cuffs and steal his ship anyway. He sighed and turned away into the refresher. Closing the door he checked on your clothes, still damp. He couldn’t kick you out yet. He wasn’t that cruel, no matter how annoying you were. He left the refresher and headed up to the cockpit, you just watched silently as he moved throughout the ship. He shed his armor, minus the helmet, before re-entering the hull and sliding past you into the cot. It was cramped, but there was enough room for both of you. 

You sat at the foot of the cot, he tilted his head at you.

“I’m kicking you out in the morning, you might as well sleep, there’s room.”

He wasn’t sure why he was being nice to you, you had been an asshole after he had saved your life and let you onto his ship. But maybe he was just feeling generous. Or maybe it had just been a while since he had any company on the Crest. Probably since whoever had worn those shorts. 

You laid down next to him. Squeezing between him and the wall. You were cold compared to everything else in the small compartment, he was almost sweating because of the warmth generated by the heater and the blankets, but you were freezing. And tired. You passed out almost immediately, at least you didn’t seem awake. He lay there on his side, stiff and rigid so that he didn’t wake you up or make any… uncomfortable contact. 

That didn’t last long. 

Apparently you move in your sleep. It seemed involuntary but the shifting had brought your back flush against his chest, your body fitting into his. When it started he could ignore it, the shifting movement against him. But it got harder to ignore, seeming almost intentional the way you were damn near grinding against him. Fuck. It wasn’t long before he was hard against your ass. It had been a while since he had felt anyone rub against him like this, friction creating just the right amount of sensation to make him swallow small sounds that wanted to escape his lips. 

It had to be intentional. 

He didn't know what to do. 

He listened, trying to catch any indication that you were awake. That was a mistake, he heard your breathing, heavy and desperate sounding as you rubbed against his cock through the flightsuit, it only made him want you more, but you were asleep. You were dreaming.

Shit. 

He couldn’t actually do anything, but he stopped trying to resist it. His hips moved with yours, he let one of his arms slip around your waist.

It was probably 10 minutes before you let out a groan, pausing your movements as you woke up. He froze, waiting for anything to indicate what he should be doing. But then you tilted your hips into his once again, starting to slowly resume the movements. He could feel himself leaking precum, the erection trapped under his clothes begging to escape. He pulled you further against him, pressing his hips into you and allowing a grunt to escape from under the helmet. You quickened your pace against him and he wasn’t sure how long he could keep going. 

“I owe you one, Mandalorian”

You whispered through small gasps for air, it caught him off guard, but that wasn’t it. You stopped grinding into him, leaving his length throbbing for more, he almost begged you to keep going before you raised your wrists, shaking them slightly so that he knew you wanted them unlocked. He didn't hesitate, quickly releasing the cuffs and letting them fall onto the thin mattress. 

You reached behind you, sliding your hand beneath his layers of clothing to pump his cock in your palm, rubbing the dribbles of precum around his tip before he quickly pulled down his pants just enough to free him from the confines of the fabric. 

“Fuck- I’m glad I didnt kick you out,”

You released him, sliding down your own shorts and underwear before once again taking him in your hand. 

“So am I.”

His thoughts were blurry, the pleasure clouding his mind as it came and went with your movements, pumping his cock as he bucked into your fist. He was close to his own release when you started to guide him, sliding between your legs, slick with your arousal.

“Shit, Maker you’re soft, fuck-”

He gripped your hips, moaning breathily as the warmth of your thighs wrapped around his length. He slid against your lips, earning him some of your noises as the friction brushed against your clit, and started to thrust between them. His hand drifted from your hips down to rub circles around your clit. You clenched around his length the added pressure working him further towards his release. 

“So close, just like that-”

Your moans were gaining volume with his, the thrusts and friction against your clit was driving you over the edge while he was barely clinging to reality, feeling his eyes want to roll back into his skull with the sensation of your thighs squeezing around his cock. 

“Shit, shit, shit- you’re such a good fucking slut-”

He was cut short by his orgasm and yours, his hips bucking through his peak as the modulated moans fell from his lips, expletives filling the small space along with sounds of his pleasure. He could feel your center pulse against him as you lay there, both catching your breath as his cum dripped down your skin and onto the cot. 

Neither of you moved, blissed out and immobile from your simultaneous release of pleasure, falling into sleep once again with him still squeezed between your thighs, pressed up against you. 

AN: MANNNN just as i wrote this i realized this would be the literally perfect setting for cockwarming, but it's too late, actually maybe i'll write a part 2... also thanks to @greensweatergreenplaid for proofreading this !!!!

[just-dreaming-marvel]

The Bond Between Us ~ 86

THE BOND BETWEEN US MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,600ish

Summary: The remaining Resistance tries to survive the continued pursuit by the First Order.

Notes: Sorry that it's taken me so long to update this! I honestly can't believe that there are only 3 more chapters after this one! Are you ready?

You and Leia were waiting at the edge of the base for signs that the First Order was coming. Looking out at the white landscape, reminded you of another Rebel base.

“It looks a bit like Hoth,” you said.

Leia let out a single, breathy chuckle. “Yes, it kinda does,” she agreed.

“A lot happened on Hoth.”

“A lot is still happening.”

“Seems to never stop…” You sighed. “Leia, there’s a darkness growing. I have felt it since we defeated the Emperor. It stayed level for a time but I’ve only felt it growing since Ben turned.”

Leia knew not to question your senses. She turned to face you fully. “How bad?”

“Very… It matches that of the Emperor and that… that terrifies me.”

Something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. You looked to see a shuttle coming in, getting shot at by First Order fighters.

“They’re coming,” Leia spoke into her comm, “shut the door.”

The two of you hurried to safety as blasts entered through the closing gap. The shuttle slid inside, not without great damage. The door closed and the Resistance officers began firing at the damaged First Order shuttle. You ignited your sabers and were about to jump into the shuttle when two pairs of hands popped up through the broken cockpit window.

“No, don’t shoot!” A woman exclaimed. “It’s us! No, don’t, no!”

“Stop your fire!” Poe ordered. “Hold your fire!” Finn and a Resistance member, Rose, appeared from the windows. 

“Finn?” Leia questioned.

“Finn! Rose! You’re not dead! Where’s my droid?” BB8 rolled out of the wreckage. “Buddy!” Poe knelt down to greet him. “I’m so glad to see you!” The droid chirped excitedly. “Wait, what? Wait, slow down.”

You met Rose's saddened gaze. She was realizing that those of you in that room were all that was left of the Resistance. Finn realized that too. So much had been sacrificed and there was so little left, but there was really no choice in whether or not to continue the fight. The fight must go on.

~~~

The command room was bustling with action as officers got the base up and running again. You stood near the edge, watching it all unfold as you watched your breathing and honed in on the Force. A saber was in each of your hands as you prepared for the fight ahead. At 75 years old, you were still healthy and strong but time and life still had done a number on you. You knew that any fight could be your last—which had always been the case but this was different. Your age now was a factor in both your strengths and weaknesses.

“General,” Finn called, pulling you from your meditative state. You turned your head to look at him. “Are you alright?”

You gave him a small, thankful smile. “It’s Y/N and I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” 

You noticed how his eyes glanced at something nearby. Your eyes followed his line of sight to see that the pebbles in the corner of the floor were floating. You quickly refocused yourself, causing the pebbles to clatter to the ground.

“This is familiar to you,” Finn stated. “The war… the hiding… the fighting.”

“I wish it wasn’t,” you admitted quietly. “I wish that… I don’t actually what I wish would have happened in my life. I just never thought that there would be so much fighting.”

Finn nodded before turning around and joining the chaos around the room. It wasn’t too long later when the base began shaking. You exited the control room and walked out to use one of the old scopes. Finn, Rose, Poe, and a few others followed you. You took a deep breath and shook your head as you took in the sight of the First Order outside the massive door.

“A battering ram cannon,” you muttered.

“A what, now?” Questioned Poe.

“Miniaturized Death Star tech.”

“It will crack that door open like an egg,” Finn clarified. 

“There has to be a back way out of here, right?” Rose hoped.

BB8 beeped as he and C3PO broke through the crowd.

“BB8, what do you got?” Poe questioned.

“BB8 analyzed the mine schematics,” 3PO responded. “This is the only way in, or out.”

“Impossible,” you said. “The Rebellion was never that stupid. Scan it again.”

Distant rumbling caused everyone to pause for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

“Come on,” Finn said, pulling the attention to him. “We have allies. People believe in Leia. They believe in Y/N. They’ll get our message and they’ll come. But we have to buy time. We gotta take out that cannon.”

“Poe, led the troops out,” you ordered. “This is yours and Finn’s mission. Buy us time.”

Poe nodded. “You heard the General! Let’s move!"

~~~

You and Leia found yourselves in the control room, monitoring the ground attacks from there. You would sense that Ben was on one of the command ships, leading the First Order. He would do anything he could to get to you and Leia.

You were slightly relieved when you saw the Falcon swoop in to help the ground attack. It meant that Chewie at least was back, though you felt Rey was with him. The base started to shake as the cannon’s laser hit the door and began burning through it. 

“Our distress signal has been received at multiple points,” Lieutenant Connix informed, “but no response.”

“They’ve heard us… but no one’s coming,” Commander Larma D’Acy said before she turned back to you and Leia.

“We fought until the end,” Leia said, slowly sitting down. “But the galaxy has lost all its hope. The spark… is out.”

“No,” you responded, shaking your head. “I’d never out… it’s always there, if only people are brave enough to follow it.”

“You are wiser than you give yourself credit for, Aunt Y/N,” Luke’s voice sounded from behind you.

You spun around to see him standing at the edge of the hallway. He walked up to you and Leia and took off his hood.

“Luke,” Leia whispered. Luke sat down so that he was eye-to-eye with Leia. You could tell that he wasn’t really here, that this was a projection. “I know what you’re going to say. I changed my hair.” The twins shared a small chuckle.”

“It’s nice that way,” Luke commented. “Leia… I am sorry.”

“I know… I know you are. I’m just glad you’re here… at the end.”

“I came to face him. And I can’t save him.”

“I held out hope for so long, but… I know my son is gone.”

“No one’s ever really gone.” 

Luke held out his hand, with Leia meeting his. He placed Han’s dice in her hand as he stood up. He took her head and gently kissed her forehead before looking at you with watery eyes. You two shared a silent nod, knowing that there wasn’t enough time to say what needed to be said, before he walked out of the room. You had to fight the urge to follow him, to stand by his side and fight. But you were needed for something else. Fighting Ben right now wasn’t your destiny. It was Luke’s.

“We need to find a way out,” you said, knowing that Luke was buying you time. “There has to be another way out.”

You closed your eyes and branched out with the Force. Your eyes snapped open when you found something. You noticed that the crystal critters had disappeared and found a way out.

“Get everyone and everything we need,” you ordered. “We have a way out.” 

As you began to lead the remaining Resistance members, Rey’s beacon began to go off. That was a signal to let you know that she was trying to find you. You lead the group to a wall of boulders. The boulders were clearly blocking the way out as one of the crystal critters slipped through a small opening.

“No, no, no, no, no!” Poe panicked, looking at the boulders.

“Poe,” you called, “have you forgotten who you’re with?”

You smirked as you held out your arm and focused on the boulders. They started to lift away, but you could feel that you weren’t the only one causing that. As the boulders lifted, you could see Rey on the other side, in a similar position. You smiled proudly as she took control and moved the boulders out of the way.

Finn ran forward when he caught sight of Rey and the two embraced. You weren’t far behind.

“You did it,” you whispered to Rey. You pulled back slightly. “You still have much more to learn, but you did it.”

“Thank you… Master Y/N,” Rey said.

You, Rey, and Leia were heading for the Falcon when you felt it. Luke slipping into the Force. You inhaled sharply at the thought of living past another one of your family members. Leia grabbed ahold of your arm for strength. You looked over at her and gave a nod before the two of you made your way onto the ship.

Chewie was very happy to see you and Leia. Once he finally let you both go, Leia and yourself found a seat by Rey.

“Luke is gone,” she stated. “I felt it. But it wasn’t sadness nor pain. It was… peace and purpose.”

“We felt it too,” Leia confirmed.

“How do we build a Rebellion from this?”

Leia placed her hand on Rey’s hand, which was holding the old blue-bladed lightsaber, long thought lost. “We have everything we need.”

next chapter >

[satureja13]

After his mental breakdown, Jack found himself in a snowy landscape. In his 'Four Horsemen'/Jedi Cosplay...

Is he dead?

As always, he uses his puppy strategy to calm himself down.

(TMI: 'The world is a mountain Whatever you say, good or bad, it will echo it back to you Don’t say I sang nicely and mountain echoed an ugly voice… That is not possible' by Rumi)

And then Jack heard the music.

'When I die and they lay me to rest Gonna go to the place that's the best When I lay me down to die Goin' up to the spirit in the sky' When he turned around, he saw a kind of landing place with space ships and it looked like on Hoth, the ice planet from Star Wars.

He seems all alone here. And he has no internet. Yes, he was definitely dead. There was no other explanation. But it could have been worse. I mean, Star Wars! This was heaven! Even though he expected 'Highway To Hell' and not 'Spirit In The Sky' as background music...

Kesuke to the Party Droid: "Hey, why did you stop? I like that song!" *Droid beeping* Kesuke: "We have a visitor?"

From the Beginning  ~  Underwater Love ~  Latest

[patiusarchivist]

When I looked upon my ‘Master’, I saw not him in the hateful cold of Hoth. I saw the creature that birthed his heritage. That mask ancient and weeping countless years corroded in murder. Was it always like that? It seemed unwashed, untouched in care nor hygiene. When I looked upon the morbid mask, I saw a dead man looking out at the endless landscape of artic frost. The icy wind clawing at our cloaks. It carved at me and he pushed it aside like another layer. 

“Surely the Jedi had taught you to protect yourself from the harshness of nature.” He said, almost a hint of mirth I noticed.

I wanted to snip back a quip that my masters weren’t so neglect like his but then again, wasn’t it the Sith’s way to throw their apprentices to the wild? If they lived, they lived. If not, another more worthy will simply take their place. 

And when I looked at that mask, I saw black ichor (blood?) sweeping down the fine silver of the sockets’ rim and hollow cheeks. When he looked at me, I looked into the emptiness and shivered.

“Have you even been afraid to die, Zavros?” 

“W-what?” I asked, my ears were deceiving. That didn’t sound right.

“Are you afraid to die in the cold, curling into a quivering ball till the snow claimed you?” 

His voice hissed from the emptiness. No, it wasn’t his. It sounded older. And I couldn’t remember to breath. I felt colder than I ever been. I can still remember it like it was only a moment ago!

“To be forgotten under the blinding snow?”

I gasped when those horrid decomposing hands were pulling his hood aside and horns - togruta horns - were growing from the helm. I didn’t even realize I was falling back until his hand caught my back.

“Ashara!” 

His voice brought me and I was staring at him again. His mask was clean, meticulously brushed and buffered in its proudful sheen. I could feel the warmth in his gaze. The questioning beyond the visors’ sockets. “I’m alright, Sith.” 

“You don’t seem alright, do you need to return to the ship?”

“I-’ My heart jumped. Why did it jump? It wasn’t fright. It was...something. Why did he care? He is a Sith, why would a Sith master care about his apprentice. Gangpressed one at that. I scoff and righted myself, holding along myself. 

“I am fine. I am stronger than I look!” 

“Mhm.” That little slip of teasing disbelief stirred me worse than I wanted to allow. I am not a child to be teased! I have slain my share! Even my former allies - wait, I shouldn’t take pride in that. I...

What am I doing?

-Journal Entry: Hoth, Training (?)  Ashara Zavros

[honourablejester]

Thoughts on Starfinder’s Pact Worlds Setting

So I went back and bought the Pact Worlds sourcebook as well, because the hints of the setting from the Core Rulebook were intriguing. I have not regretted it. There is an awful lot of fun stuff in here. I’m only partway through, but some thoughts so far:

The Sun is fucking cool. Even just the option that the sun is an interactable location in the system is fantastic. The Burning Archipelago is such a cool setting element and idea. I love Verdeon so much, this bubble city given over to horticulture and pleasure gardens in the surface of a star. A giant greenhouse with floating planting platforms, some angled straight into the sun’s burning light for extreme heat-thriving plants, and others angled outward into space for more shade-loving plants. Beautiful pleasure gardens, again, hanging inside a star. It’s fantastic.

Also, continuing the theme of solar horticulture, the NatuReal corporation with its orbital jungle boxes full of plant monsters and incredibly well-protected corporate HQ-slash-company-town in Fireside would make a great villain for an adventure. Investigating the oopsies in the jungle boxes and trying to figure out if there’s a more sinister pattern underlying what’s going dark (or a PC/NPC character who survived one of the ‘going dark’ incidents and wants revenge-slash-answers) could wind up with a party trying to do a heist on a fortified corporate HQ inside a fucking bubble city floating in the sun. Which, let’s be real, would be fun.

(If this has shown up already in an adventure, feel free to tell me!)

Verces is also really fucking cool. It’s not the planet I thought would be as cool as it is, but there’s a lot to work with on Verces. The whole tidally-locked thing, and the wildly diverse landscapes and timescapes that enables, are amazing. The perpetually night Darkside and the viciously sun-seared Fullbright, with the full cyberpunk equator-spanning city-belt in the middle, are a spectacular way to get a lot things going on on the same world. You’ve got full on (genuine, entirely literal) Mad Max, Warlords of Barsoom going on in one corner, cyberpunk terrorist shenanigans in the middle, and then John Carpenter’s The Thing on the other.

My horror-loving heart probably does love the Darkside best, naturally. This frozen evernight wasteland of ice and blood. The artificial lights of mining rigs and industrial platforms looming out of the ice and the darkness. The horrific creatures out on the ice who’ll bind you alive inside their bodies and slowly drain you of blood while you still live. The fucking cenobite monastery of terrifying ascetics who let frostbite eat their limbs so that they can be wired directly and bodily into starship drive systems. Verces’ Darkside is less Hoth, and more The Thing meets Event Horizon meets Hellraiser meets Chronicles of Riddick. I’m vibrating. It’s incredible.

(Sidenote: I’m not sure on the timing here, but is it possible the Starfinder writers were taking some notes from Sunless Sea/Skies? There’s a couple of things on Verces that give me definite Unterzee vibes. Lempro and the intis in particular give me Whither/Codex vibes. There’s a lot of influences apparent in Starfinder, I’m catching pieces of so many of my favourite sci-fi/horror/fantasy canons, so I’m just idly wondering)

The Diaspora may well be my favourite of all the Pact Worlds. If you want space. That full kind of working-class SF, roguish SF, asteroid miners and smugglers flying junkers and the wrecks of derelict starships, the Diaspora is for you. The Expanse, Alien, Event Horizon. Godfall from Sunless Sea. The Millennium Falcon accidentally hiding inside the maw of an asteroid worm. Magnetic Rose. Captain Harlock/Queen Emeraldas. If you want to find strange objects and eldritch mysteries floating silently in space. If you want space pirate outpost-cities hidden in asteroids. If you want starship nomads on mobile trade and repair outposts servicing miners and outlaws. If you want vast mining facilities hanging gently in space. If you want underground slave-liberation movements hiding in the ‘mountains’ (asteroids) away from civilisation. If you want vast ship’s graveyards inexplicably bundled around innocuous points in space. The Diaspora has it all. It’s incredible. I would play a whole game that was just dootling around the Diaspora doing odd jobs and stumbling into horrifying mysteries. If Paizo ever wanted to make a Starfinder video game, set it here. I will play it.

Within the Diaspora, The Hum is so fucking good. Look. Vast fields of wrecked and disabled ships orbiting around a weird anomaly in space that makes them lethal to go near is a trope, it’s a fucking good trope, I love it a whole hell of a lot. A madness inducing anomaly that pulls people in and makes it near-impossible to escape is a fantastic mystery to just put there. Can you do anything with it? Maybe not, not survivably, but it’s an excellent thing to just have be there, a known weirdness and danger to shipping, a piece of the lore of a place.

I also really, really love the Farabarrium. A ratfolk trade and salvage barge made from a salvaged warship that they just took over, there’s vibes of Star Wars Legends in there, but also just … Ysoki are one of my favourite races, and them just operating a stolen/salvaged mobile garage/gas station out of a repurposed dead warship in this backwater area of space does something happy for me.

The fact that the Diaspora has significant quantities of ysoki, dwarves and sarcesians, three species that are rapidly coming to be my favourites, also does not hurt its place in my internal rankings. There’s a lot of just good stuff in the Diaspora. Mystic rivers that flow inexplicably through space. Rat-run flying petrol stations. Vacuum-capable player races with solar wings. Monasteries that are not-so-secretly worshipping Nyarlathotep. Strange wailing insane asylums/prisons that drive people insane and may involve the King in Yellow. Dwarven asteroid-cities. Robot liberation movements. The Diaspora is such a perfect intersection of so many things I like. It wins. It has to win.

But I still have six planets to go, so maybe we’ll see. Heh. This is a very fun setting. Also, I suspect I may be showing my tastes in fiction over here.

[legends-expo]

That's No Moon: Star Wars Planetary Science

From the frozen landscape of Hoth to the scorching deserts of Tatooine, the Star Wars galaxy is filled with many fantastical worlds and alien life. As strange as these worlds may seem, each and every one of them was inspired by what we know of our galaxy. In this panel, join a group of expert scientists as they look into the forces that inspired the many worlds in a galaxy far, far away. Featuring Dr. James T. Keane (planetary scientist), Dr. Tiffany Kataria (planetary scientist), Randy Flores (paleontologist), and Gabriel Santos (paleontologist and Cosplay for Science)

Full Schedule: https://legends-con.com/guests-programming/

Buy tickets now, and join us for a celebration of all things Expanded Universe in Burbank, CA on September 9th & 10th: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/legends-consortium-2023-tickets-541786186067

[wvyld]

[dotcolorful]

No. 3 A HAIR’S BREADTH FROM DEATH Gun to Temple | “Say goodbye.” | Impaled

Read it on AO3 here!

“I’ve waited for this moment for a very long time.”

Standing above him with his blaster trained at Luke’s forehead, the Imperial officer grinned. His dark uniform, still splattered with Luke’s blood, was a stark contrast to the white snowy landscape of Hoth. Luke hated the snow - hated how it wet the fabric of his pants and made him shiver in cold, and how vibrant his blood looked against its crisp whiteness. 

And he was bleeding a lot. 

He shouldn’t have come here, shouldn’t have volunteered for the mission to come back to Hoth and collect all the remaining equipment the Rebellion had left behind when evacuating the base months ago. The Force had sent warnings from the very beginning, had whispered its cautionary advice not to go. Something wrong was going to happen, it said, and Luke had ignored it. 

It’s not like he blamed himself, though. It’d be strange for him to heed the Force’s warning now when it had been screaming danger at him constantly ever since Bespin anyway. 

As if Luke didn’t know what a messed up situation he was in already. 

As if he didn’t know how dangerous it was to be the son of a Sith Lord.

His ship had crashed during the landing. How , Luke couldn’t tell - he’d lost control of his X-Wing so suddenly that he didn’t even have the time to realize what was happening before the craft plummeted towards the ground, rendering him unconscious.

His next memories were blurry, overshadowed by the constant pain that had overwhelmed his body. He remembered waking up, hanging limp in his ship’s crash webbing. He remembered opening his eyes to the smell of smoke and the sight of blood. He remembered feeling absolute agony in his side, remembered bringing a shaking hand to it and realizing a metal shrapnel had embedded itself in his flesh.

He fell unconscious again before he could do anything about it. 

His next flashes of awareness had been even shorter as his life slowly left him with each drop of his blood flowing from the wound. There were the sounds of engines at some point, the sight of Imperial shuttles landing next to the crash site, the smell of burned metal and plastic as a metallic saw started cutting through the hull of his ship.

There had been pain as rough hands had dragged him out of his ship, mindless of the wound in his side, before throwing him on the snowy ground. He’d screamed - he remembered that well, remembered the absolute agony of landing on his right side, the side where he’d been impaled, and feeling the metal shard pushing itself into his flesh even further, embedding itself in so deeply that only a small part now stuck outside of his skin. 

He had cried out in pain, but had been offered no help, no respite. They hadn't bandaged the wound, hadn't done anything to stop the bleeding. He’d been hopeful, for a moment, when one of the Imperials had approached him with a hypo in his hand, that they were at least going to inject him with a painkiller. It wouldn’t do much, he knew, but maybe he wouldn’t have to die in as much agony as he was feeling now.

He’d been foolish to hope for that.

It hadn’t been a painkiller. 

It had been a stim shot.

He’d thought it was impossible to be in more pain than he’d already been in; he was wrong. For the moment the needle pierced his skin and awareness spread through his body like a cool tide, all his body's attempts at dulling the pain evaporated in an instant. 

He started screaming and he couldn’t stop. 

He was limp as they had pushed him up, brought him to his knees. The blood dripped from his side and fell onto the snow, turning it pale pink and then red. He watched it, finding the regularity of the falling drops somewhat calming; it was better to look at that than at the two troopers pressing down on his shoulders to keep him down, or the Imperial officer slowly approaching him with a sinister smile. 

“I’ve been waiting for this moment for a very long time,” he’d said, training his blaster at Luke’s forehead, and Luke knew he was fucked. 

“ B-bastard ,” he grunt out, his agonized brain unable to come up with anything else. 

“Tut, tut,” the officer said, smacking his tongue disapprovingly. “That wasn’t very nice. And why ruin this moment when I’m having such a good time?”

Luke inhaled sharply, wanting to spit out another curse; but his breath hitched in his throat and he realized it was becoming difficult to get oxygen into his lungs.

Damn, he was losing a lot of blood. 

“Ah, having difficulty breathing, are we? Do not worry, it won’t last long. I admit, when I imagined killing you, it was always a more painful death that I’d had in mind… but I’m afraid our time is running out. Lord Vader had already been informed of your capture; he’ll be here any minute. And my opportunity to take your life will be lost. Now, we don’t want that, do we?”

We certainly do, actually, a part of Luke’s brain thought hysterically, eyeing the blaster still trained at his head. Maybe it was the pain that was messing with his thinking, but in his fear and agony, he actually wished his father was here. 

He wished his father would save him. 

That thought, foolish and hysterical as it was, didn’t occur to him for too long, though. His mind was, instead, preoccupied with something entirely else, something far more dangerous:

The realization that he was about to be killed.

That this time, he was really going to die. 

And not in battle, or a glorious sacrifice, or even on his two feet.

No, he was going to die kneeling, in a puddle of his own blood no less, with a blaster shot to his head. He’d die too weak to even defend himself, too injured to fight the Imperials holding him down. 

Luke Skywalker, the Hero of the Rebellion, was going to get the death of rebel scum.

It was ironic, really, how he’d thought he was destined for greatness. 

How he thought he could be a Jedi but couldn’t even fight off three Imperials. 

“You’re unwise,” he whispered, noticing that his teeth had started to chatter. Was it from the pain? From the cold? He didn’t know. “Lord Vader will be most displeased if you kill me.”

“I don’t care!” The Imperial shouted, jerking his blaster so hard that the riffle hit Luke’s forehead and he bent forward in pain, only to be brought back up by the troopers. “I’m willing to die if it’s what it takes to take you out!”

He took a step forward, then kneeled and leaned his face forward until he was on eye-level with Luke.

“Because,” he whispered sinisterly, his face so close it was almost touching Luke’s, “my brother was on the Death Star.”

There was a short click as the man toggled the safety off his blaster before pressing the barrel directly onto his face.

“And I ,” the man continued, “have promised myself that I would be the one to kill you.”

He smiled as he finished those words, beginning to slowly trail the blaster over Luke’s face. The cold barrel slid over his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, and chin, before traveling to his ear to, finally, rest at his temple. It caused him to shiver even more than he already was, made his heart beat even faster in fear, and he could feel his blood pumping out of the wound even faster as a result.

He didn’t even have it in himself to beg for mercy. 

How could he, after what he’d done?

It’d taken him long to finally accept his actions during the Battle of Yavin. He knew it’d been necessary - that it was the Empire or the Rebellion - but still, that didn’t make it any easier. And, after the initial joy of his victory and the pride that he, a mere farmer from backwater Tatooine, had accomplished what the Alliance had thought was impossible, the full scale of what he’d done had dawned on him. 

He’d killed people. Millions of them, with a single shot. 

He, a boy who had never before even won a fight with his friends, had suddenly become a murderer.

He had blood on his hands. 

“I’m s-sorry,” he whispered, closing his eyes against the man’s face, his guilt, his fast-approaching death. T here isn’t a day I don’t mourn the lives I have taken, he wanted to say as well, but found he couldn’t get enough air past his throat. 

The snow beneath him was now deep red. 

“I doubt that you're sorry,” the officer spat. “But you’re sure as hell about to be.”

He glanced at the troopers forcing Luke down. “Hold him still.”

And then, his gaze turned back to Luke. “This is it, Skywalker,” he said, pressing the blaster even harder against his forehead. “ Say goodbye. ”

It happened fast.  

There was a yell as the officer pressed the trigger, followed by a gasp as all three Imperials were suddenly snatched by an invisible force and thrown forward. No longer held by the troopers, Luke toppled forward, face-first into the bloodied snow. The movement tore at his wound, causing blood to gush out of it like a river, and Luke cringed. 

It was bright red. 

The shrapnel must have torn at an artery.

Though, he supposed, that didn’t matter. He was already dying anyway. 

He lay in the snow shivering and gasping in pain, waiting for it all to end. Somewhere in the distance, he heard the sound of choking, of screams of pain and bodies hitting the snow. There was a baritone voice as well, growling in anger and rage, and for a moment, Luke thought he could make out something that sounded a lot like how dare you touch what is mine.

Everything felt muffled as if someone had put him underwater and had held him there. All he could feel was the coldness of the snow beneath him and the warmth of his blood. 

More screams, more shrieks, more choking sounds, and then, suddenly, everything stopped. Quiet.

“Luke.” The voice was as muffled, as unclear as all other sounds, but Luke understood it anyway. Knew that the deep, baritone voice could only belong to one person in this galaxy. 

“ Fa..father.”

Gloved hands caught his arms and slowly turned him onto his back. He cried out as the movement tore at his wound even further, then howled as something pressed hard against his side. 

“I know it hurts,” the deep voice said. “But I must stop the bleeding.”

Luke understood, but it did not stop him from crying out in pain when the pressure on his wound increased and he felt as if his insides were on fire. 

“P…p…plea…se…” he whimpered, not even knowing what he was pleading for, only knowing that he couldn’t handle this pain, couldn’t possibly manage the agony that was upon him. 

Something that sounded a lot like a Hutesse curse - though that was impossible - escaped the vocoder and Luke felt a gloved hand settle on his forehead. The leather was sticky with blood, but he didn’t mind; there was something comforting about the gesture, about being touched without malice where the barrel of the blaster had dug into his skin only moments ago. 

“Shhh. Stay with me,” his father spoke, swiping the hair from his forehead gently. “The medics will be here soon. Just stay awake.”

He nodded against the gloved hand, suddenly unable to say anything else. He didn’t even have the strength to whimper as Vader removed his hand from his wound, only to press it again, this time with fabric in his hand. 

“You will live,” he said quietly, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. Luke didn’t blame him - he wasn’t so sure he was going to survive, even with the medics coming soon.

But he could feel the comforting hand on his forehead, and the gentle whispers directed at him in the Force, and he couldn’t help but think… 

…he wanted to live. He didn’t want this to be the last time he felt that comforting gloved hand.

And, most of all, he didn’t want to die like this - to be executed, pushed to his knees, or to bleed out on the cold, snowy ground. 

“You will not,” his father growled in response to his thoughts. Was he shielding? Probably not… It was so hard to stay awake…

“No,” Vader rumbled, lightly slapping a hand against his cheek. “No, stay with me. Stay with me, son. I won’t leave you, I will stay by your side, but you need to stay with me!”

“...s-so…h-hard…”

His father’s thumb brushed against a tear that had slid down his cheek. 

“That never stopped you before, my son,” he said. Luke could swear he felt a sad smile on his father’s lips. “You’ve faced many challenges, no matter how difficult or hard. Just do this, one more time. Just stay awake. Just breathe. For me .”

And Luke tried. He pushed past his pain, past the hold death had on him, and breathed. Breathed until he had no strength left and still, he kept going, still kept pushing air into his damaged throat. 

Because each breath meant one more second of life, of the feeling of his father’s hand on his forehead. 

And Luke was willing to survive for that. 

[paint-by-numbers-adults]

Paint your way to relaxation with paint by numbers

Paint by Numbers has been a popular pastime for generations, captivating both children and adults with its unique blend of creativity and relaxation. The concept is simple: a pre-drawn canvas is divided into numbered sections, each corresponding to a specific color. By following the numbered guide, aspiring artists can bring vibrant and detailed masterpieces to life, even without prior painting experience. In recent years, Paint by Numbers has expanded its repertoire to include various themes, from the iconic Star Wars universe to the works of Picasso, anime, Harry Potter, and picturesque landscapes. Let's dive into the world of these captivating paint by number themes.

Star Wars, the timeless saga that has captured the hearts of millions, has made its way into the realm of Paint by Numbers. With Star Wars paint by number kits, fans can recreate memorable scenes featuring iconic characters like Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, and Darth Vader. Whether it's a battle on Hoth or the Millennium Falcon soaring through space, these kits allow fans to express their love for the galaxy far, far away in a creative and relaxing way.

Pablo Picasso, one of the most influential artists of the 20th century, now has his works transformed into Picasso paint by numbers kits. Picasso's unique style, characterized by abstract forms and vibrant colors, can be replicated by following the numbered sections of the canvas. From his famous Blue Period to his Cubist masterpieces, these kits offer art enthusiasts an opportunity to recreate Picasso's iconic works and gain a deeper appreciation for his artistic vision.

Anime, the beloved art form from Japan, has a dedicated following around the world. Now, fans can immerse themselves in the world of anime through Paint by Numbers anime kits. From popular series like Naruto, Attack on Titan, and My Hero Academia to timeless classics like Studio Ghibli films, these kits allow fans to recreate their favorite characters and scenes with their own artistic touch. It's an excellent way to celebrate the unique artistry and storytelling that anime brings to our screens.

The enchanting world of Harry Potter has captured the imaginations of millions, and now fans can bring their favorite characters and Hogwarts moments to life through paint by numbers Harry Potter kits. Whether it's painting a magical castle, the iconic Hogwarts Express, or Harry, Ron, and Hermione embarking on their adventures, these kits provide a magical painting experience for Harry Potter enthusiasts of all ages.

For those who prefer scenic views and tranquility, landscape Paint by Numbers kits offer an escape into the natural world. From breathtaking sunsets and serene beaches to majestic mountains and peaceful forests, these kits allow artists to recreate the beauty of nature on their canvases. It's a wonderful way to unwind, connect with nature, and create a stunning piece of art in the process.

Paint by Numbers has evolved beyond its humble beginnings, encompassing a wide range of themes and styles to cater to diverse artistic tastes. Whether you're a Star Wars fan, an admirer of Picasso's genius, an anime enthusiast, a Harry Potter aficionado, or someone who finds solace in landscapes, there's a Paint by Numbers kit waiting to inspire your creativity. So, pick up your paintbrush, follow the numbers, and unlock the artist within you. Happy painting!

[steely-eyedmissileman]

Obi-Wan Kenobi Ep. 1

i am still of the opinion that this show should have just been called kenobi. however, i can let this go because i quite liked this episode.

you know you're off to an aggressive start when the first thing you see is the murder of younglings in order 66. like, that's a bold call everyone. very bold. and it works. we're building an emotional landscape here. and the emotional landscape is that everyone is afraid, suffering, dying. no one is safe. and obi-wan has had to sacrifice himself and his principles in order to keep luke safe. and he isn't even allowed to give him a toy spaceship.

listen, this is not a new take, but i just don't like owen lars. he is not a good father. i get that he's going through a lot and he's trying to keep luke safe. but sheltered is not safe. ignorant is not safe. keeping him away from his past doesn't protect him. it just leaves him open to being blindsided later. if he had learned about his past as a child, he would have been more prepared for the events of a new hope. but we can't change the past, so luke can know nothing. instead he must pretend to be in a spaceship on the roof.

meanwhile, leia is having adventures. she always was the cooler twin. i love her so much. she has so much fire in her, so much fight. i wish that she had wanted to be a senator. i just don't love the path that she had to give up what she loved blah blah blah. i think that luke and leia should have different desires. they are two sides of the same coin. i don't know though, maybe she'll learn to love the senate. i just don't like the idea that her parents would force her into something she didn't want.

speaking of her parents, holy shit! that is bail fucking organa everyone! he is the man! he is the man that i always say padme should have fallen for. there was definitely potential in the clone wars, but she persisted in being in love with anakin skywalker who she can definitely do better than. anyway, that's besides the point. the point is, i love bail organa, and i think he's a great dad. and breha is a great mom! and they're on alderaan! and they're happy! i love to see alderaan, by the way. i want the texture of the world. i want to see everything and do everything. alderaan is such an iconic place in the star wars canon for never really having been explored. like, we've seen this place (before this episode) for maybe two minutes of screentime (it has occurred to me we may see it in later clone wars seasons... i haven't finished the clone wars, to my great regret) and it is one of the central places in the star wars galaxy. like here's the list: tatooine, coruscant, naboo, alderaan, corellia, ryloth, hoth, yavin iv, the forest moon of endor, dagobah, etc, etc. so i'm super excited to see more of alderaan! especially because that will make it hurt more when it's destroyed.

[atomic-lola]

SWTOR: the desolate landscape of Hoth