#i would have absolutely loved the journey portion to be longer and actually showcase the clans bonding and working together

[pigeonclaw]

I forgot to make a post about it til now, but in Onestar's Confession, Tallstar going to the Moonstone to confirm Crowpaw's story and being told by StarClan "yeah he's right, you'll never get your home back so you need to leave" makes me even more exasperated at the plot of Midnight. Already that book baffles me in hindsight because I misremembered it for years — I believed that the journey to Midnight was to not only strengthen bonds between cats of each Clan to help everyone work together, but also to point them in the right direction of a new home because the lake was so far outside StarClan's sight that the Clans needed an outside source of information.

Turns out I was wrong. The whole journey was just so Midnight could tell them to leave their home, and they had to figure out where to go entirely on their own. (Sure they had a shooting star help them out but it's not like StarClan couldn't have predicted that too.) But if we have confirmation by this point (also confirmed in Shadowstar's Life) that StarClan already knew they had to leave, then what was the point of all that??? All they really accomplished was stalling the great journey for multiple books and letting a bunch of cats suffer and die needlessly. I don't agree with the idea a lot of people have that StarClan and all these characters should simply (and uncharacteristically) work together and flawlessly avoid conflict, I like conflict, but I want a reason for it. The case of Midnight is just so unfortunate. It's such a mess that could have so easily been streamlined into something that makes more sense, but it just... wasn't.

[anythingobi]

Hello! May I request a prompt? Quiobi with obiwan loosing his robe on a planet with colder weather. Thank you😘

Congrats! You’re my first prompt, and I absolutely love it! Here are my humble offerings:

Obi-Wan was significantly less annoyed by the situation than he should have been. On the one hand, he hated everything about Hoth. It was cold, and it was empty, and the way the sun reflected off of the snow made it difficult to keep his eyes open without feeling as if he was staring directly into the sun. His ship had crashed, and his cloak had been torn to shreds during a fight with some sort of lizard monster.

On the other hand, Hoth had been marked as a possible CIS remote base location, and due to the possibility of confrontation he had not been sent on the mission alone. Unfortunately he and his partner had split up, both heading in opposite directions in an effort to cover more ground. Being stranded on such a hostile planet with an inoperable ship was a precarious situation at best, and they needed to find something to allow them to either fix their ship or signal for help.

Currently, just struggling his way back to the ship was becoming difficult. His cloak had been heavy in anticipation of the harsh climate, but underneath he wore the mixture of traditional robes and various armored pieces that he had taken to since the beginning of the Clone Wars. While they allowed for freedom of movement and greatly complemented his fighting style, they were doing little for him now. He found himself bringing his hands up to his mouth to warm them with his breath as he slogged through the snow in an attempt to return to the ship. Their shelter wasn’t perfect, as they were unable to turn on any heat or life support and had long since become quite freezing itself, but it was shelter from the elements nonetheless.

His return was a slow process, and he could feel himself succumbing to the beginnings of hypothermia as he walked. Water had settled into his boots due to the high snow level, and there were various parts of his body that he could no longer feel. His hands rubbed along his beard as he stumbled unexpectedly, and he shuddered when he felt the ice crystals that had formed there. Finally, blessedly, he pitched himself against the entrance of the ship—feeling the cold from the metal seeping through his sleeve—and pounded on the door as best he could.

He realized he was falling before he’d realized he had closed his eyes, and he had the fleeting and entertaining thought that he probably shouldn’t have decided to lean on a door that he knew was about to be opened. Something between a groan and a laugh escaped his lips as he careened helplessly into the snow, and he knew it was unlikely that he’d be able to stand back up on his own. His thoughts were sluggish and he couldn’t feel large portions of his body, and the only conclusion he cared enough to draw with was that those things were bad.

Blessedly, he felt himself being lifted of the ground and carried into the ship, and he instinctually wrapped his arms around the bulk of the warm presence holding him—Qui-Gon. He was distantly aware that he was being spoken to and knew that it was probably important, but his brain was almost as numb as the rest of his body. If he focused on the voice he could distinguish what it was saying, but it meant not paying attention to anything else.

He was deposited onto one of the beds, and with an effort he listened to the words washing over him as he was handled. He belatedly realized that Qui-Gon was detailing his actions to him—telling him what he was doing and why—but his mind slipped from the words pouring over the moment Qui-Gon began undressing him. He lay limp as his boots were removed. His tunics. His pants. He found himself idly trying to move his own limb to assist, but was ultimately unable to be a productive part of the process. The moment his clothing was removed he was covered in blankets, and he let out a small sound of protest as Qui-Gon pulled away and he lost the comfort of his warmth.

“Patience, Obi-Wan,” he heard Qui-Gon respond, and moments later he felt the bed shift beside him and did his best to roll himself into the other man’s warmth. Qui-Gin helped him shift and soon they were helplessly tangled together with Obi-Wan burrowing his face into the crook of his old master’s neck. Moments later, he was drifting to sleep.

————————————————————

He woke to pain in his limbs and a hand carding through his hair, and found himself still wrapped around Qui-Gon. Thankful that the ability to think and process information had returned to him, he opened and shut his jaw a few times and found it blessedly mobile, and then he froze when he realized that by all physical observations he had just been mouthing at Qui-Gon’s neck. He froze for a moment, trying to gauge the man’s reaction before a shooting pain travelled up his leg and he automatically flinched in response.

“The pain is a good sign, Obi-Wan. It means you’re regaining feeling.” Qui-Gon continued running his hand through his hair and Obi-Wan couldn’t help but sigh and burrow in closer. He wondered how long he’d be able to play this off as craving body heat, rather than craving Qui-Gon’s body heat in particular.

“At least I can speak again.” He said gratefully into Qui-Gon’s neck. “It was as if my tongue was no longer connected to my brain.” He shifted uncomfortably as another shock of pain hit him. “Not that my brain was doing much work anyway, as muddled as it was.”

“What happened to your cloak?” Qui-Gon asked

“Some sort of… snow reptile.” Obi-Wan replied, fighting the urge to laugh. “Came out of nowhere.” Qui-Gon tightened his arm around his back protectively, pulling their cores closer together. “You’re warm.”

“You’re cold.” Qui-Gon ran his hand along his back and Obi-Wan shivered in a way that he wished he could blame on body temperature. He closed his eyes again, basking in the touch.

“I don’t mind,” he sighed, allowing himself to brush his hand along Qui-Gon’s side before settling it between them under the guise of warming it. “Better here with you, freezing in peace than out on another battlefield.”

“I can’t help but agree,” Qui-Gon parroted. He brought the arm that wasn’t on his back up to the back of his neck and began to gently move his thumb. Obi-Wan smiled sedately before pulling his head back enough to look Qui-Gon in the eyes.

“I’d rather be here than most places, actually.” He tilted his head, trying his best to gauge Qui-Gon’s reaction. He didn’t have to try very hard though, considering how quickly Qui-Gon’s lips were on his. Generally speaking that was a clear sign of approval, and he wasn’t about to question it. Instead he angled his head up and opened his mouth, giving a clear sign of his own approval as he brought his hand to twist serenely into Qui-Gon’s long hair.

The kiss was nice, although Obi-Wan found that his own tongue was still slightly sluggish and lamented the chance to showcase his talents. Qui-Gon picked up the slack, controlling the pace and intensity and allowing Obi-Wan to simply melt into him and be pulled along for the ride. By the time the kiss was broken they had managed to entwine themselves together so effectively that they could have been one person.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for so long, now. I thought you never would.” Obi-Wan let his eyes flutter closed as he spoke, content with feeling the presence of the man beside him.

“I didn’t think you wanted me to,” he responded, hands resting delicately on his hip and chin. Obi-Wan shook his head and lunged in for another kiss.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he breathed into the mouth before him. “I’ve been enamored with you since I was a padawan.” Qui-Gon moved his hand into his hair and gripped it just tight enough to elicit a moan of affirmation before pulling apart.

“I’ve loved you for years,” he said, holding Obi-Wan’s hair to keep him from lunging at him again, “but right now we both need to get dressed.” Obi-Wan shot him a pleading look. They’d just confessed to each other and they were already conveniently disrobed. Why would they get dressed? Qui-Gon sent him a knowing look back. “My journey was a tad more successful than yours, I’m afraid. No snow lizards, but I did find the remains of another crashed ship not far from here. I was able to contact your battalion, and I doubt they’ll be much longer.” Obi-Wan felt his eyes go wide with elation at the news of rescue, and then at embarrassment from the idea of being discovered like this. There was no way he was going to be found naked in bed with his former master by the entirety of his troops. He began to untangle himself from Qui-Gon in an inelegant flurry of movement, and looked up again briefly, still flushed, before finally pulling his wits about him.

“We need to get dressed.”