#like WHY is there not a section where you can walk into the Jedi temple and play Jedi training games and be treated as a new Jedi?!

[loveoaths]

i finally visited Disneyland for the first time in twelve years, and i could only find one — ONE! — piece of padmé merch! meanwhile there were ten billion kylo ren/imperial merch options, including an empire/vader shirt that said, and i quote, “finish what he started.” madness. absolute madness. this anti prequels bias has gone TOO FAR!!

[thechaoticfanartist]

Not Even A Goodbye

Angstpril Day 6: Abandoned

Fandom: Star Wars

Gen

Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Grim Kennet (OC) (Mentioned)

Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Grim Kennet

Additional Tags: Obi-Wan goes by Ben, Grim goes by Rue, Post Order 66

Summary: Obi-Wan had lost one Padawan to the Dark Side. His other abandoned him to his grief.

When Ben woke up he did not see Rue. This wasn’t unusual, sometimes she would wake up before him to make breakfast or to meditate. When he entered the main living section of their cave however, he did not find Rue. Ben frowned. Then he found a piece of flimsi. He walked over and picked it up. He turned it around. It was a note, written in English not Aurebesh. Written by Rue.

 He began to read the note:

 Dear Ben Kenobi, 

   Thank you, for everything. 

 You took me in when I had nobody. You showed me a place to call home when I had lost my own. I am grateful to have been your student. To have been your daughter.

She was talking about how he had rescued her when she appeared in The Clone Wars. How he had taken her to the Jedi Temple and she had been his padawan. A feeling of dread came over the once Jedi Master. 

 Why did this feel like a goodbye?

 He continued to read:

 I’m sorry I couldn’t change your story. I couldn’t stop this from becoming our ending. I’m sorry for all the pain you’ve had to endure. And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.

 It was. Rue had left him. 

 There was still more:

 I can’t stay here any longer. We both knew I wouldn’t. I went with you for comfort. I wasn’t ready to face the galaxy alone. Especially not as it had become. I needed to find my story, so I decided to figure out my next chapter in your company. 

 And I have discovered that chapter. A chapter where I will once again fight against the darkness. Where I can save as many lives as possible. As long as there’s the slightest chance. I’ve left to join the rebellion.

 “The rebellion,” Ben echoed in a whisper. It was like Rue to do so. She had joined The Clone Wars when it had never been her fight, and nobody had ever asked her to. He had told Rue that there were those who could still fight while they couldn’t. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised that she had joined them. It was the type of person she was. The Jedi she was.

 He read the ending of the note:

 The Clone Wars may have ended. The Jedi may be gone. But the war has only just begun. I have to fight.

 I hope you will discover your next chapter as well. Your story doesn’t have to end. Not yet.

 May The Force Be With You,

                              Grim Kennet

 Ben read the ending over several more times. She had signed with her real name, but hadn’t opened with his. This didn’t feel like a move she didn’t think of. She didn’t seem afraid of revealing their past in this note. It had been intentional. 

 Ben Kenobi is what he insisted he was called. What he had said his name was. Even when it was only him and Grim he had gone by Ben. And so for the same reasons Grim had only gone by Rue. 

 Obi-Wan had died on Mustafar with Anakin. Killing his brother had killed a part of him.

 Grim had survived that day. Even when hiding as Rue, Grim was still whole, and yet broken too. 

 Her name stared at him. Along with the way she had signed it. 

 “May The Force Be With You, Grim Kennet”

That held all the words she couldn’t fit on one page, and Ben caught all of them. 

 Another line from the note stood out to him. 

 “I hope you will discover your next chapter as well. Your story doesn’t have to end. Not yet.”

 A tear fell down Ben’s cheek. “No, Grim, my story has ended,” he said to the daughter who had left him. He held the note and read it over again and again. He tried to make sense of it all. 

 Ben of course knew that Grim would leave. They had decided that before they had gone into hiding together. Still, he hadn’t expected her to leave when she did. How she did. For her to leave without ever saying goodbye.

 Grim knew what this did. What she had done. The last member of his family was gone. 

 “And I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

 She hadn’t just left him alone. She had abandoned him to his grief. 

 “Goodbye, Grim,” he said. “May the Force be with you.”

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @roseofalderaan @keoxus  @tranakin-thighhighwalker @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @kohtoyah @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi

[treesnutsandleaveswrites]

Night on the Town

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: After the mission, you all head to Coruscant to the Clone bar 79’s; part 4 to my bad batch polyam series

Warning: discussion about sex, flirting, jealousy

Word Count: 2185

A/N: Made a masterlist for my works, it's pinned on my profile

pt iii, pt v

XXXXXXX

You sat in the cockpit, reviewing the recent data you got from the mission. It was nice and quiet on the ship as you made your way back to Kamino.

“Ugh! Are there any upcoming missions?!” Wrecker groaned as he walked into the cockpit.

“Not that I’ve been notified of.” You explained. “Great! Let’s go to 79’s!”

You looked at the boys with a confused look, “79’s?”

Tech sighed, “It’s a bar on Coruscant where most of the Clone Troopers go to cool down after missions.”

“That sounds fun. We should go. Especially after this mission.” You suggested.

They all looked at each other before nodding and dispersing to other parts of the ship.

Hunter took your hand gently and led you out of the cockpit. He sat down in the main section of the ship and looked down at his hands. Wrecker settled in one of the bunks, immediately knocking out, and Crosshair was in his compartment. You looked at Hunter and sat next to him, grabbing his hands gently.

“What is it?” You whispered, so no to overstimulate his senses. He turned to you and reached to cup your face before taking a moment to look into your eyes. Worry started to pool in the pit of your stomach which Hunter could sense, so he shook his head.

“I’m alright, cyar’ika. Really…”

It was nowhere near convincing, so you moved closer and placed your lips against his. It must have felt extremely relieving to him because he sighed into your lips and pulled you onto his lap. His lips then started to trail away from yours and found the skin of your neck. Even if you have been with the batch for nearly a year now, you were still in the early stages of your relationship with all of them. The subject of intimacy and sex life never really came up due to the interruption of work. You didn’t want to stop him, but knew you couldn’t continue. You grabbed his shoulders gently before pushing him back against the back of the seat and looking at him. He was panting softly and holding your hips.

“Sorry…” He whispered.

You didn’t know what to say while caressing the tattooed side of his face. Multiple thoughts started to reel through your mind which you wanted to relay to him. You looked towards the direction of the cockpit and called out.

“Tech! How long until we’re in Coruscant’s star system?”

“An hour, maybe more! I don’t want to waste the fuel on a lightspeed jump!”

You nodded and stood, holding out your hand. Hunter took it and you pulled him into the cockpit.

“Wait here…”

You rushed out of the cockpit and stood next to Wrecker’s bunk. He always took the top bunk, so you stepped on the bottom one and held yourself up with his own.

“Wreck… darling?”

He grunted before opening his eyes, “Yes, ad'ika?”

“Can we talk in the cockpit? Wait for me there, okay?”

He grunted in response and got down when you moved from his space, going up the ladder of the shooter’s chair. You found Crosshair leaning against the wall and examining one of his blasters.

“Cross…” You whispered, which caused him to turn his head to you, “Can… can you come join us in the cockpit? I want to talk about something.”

He gave you a short nod before you moved back to the cockpit with him behind you. The other boys were talking amongst themselves, obviously confused with why you wanted to gather them together. You entered and Crosshair leaned against the wall next to the threshold. Tech offered you a seat at the front of the cockpit and the rest of them averted their attention to you. You looked down at your hands, feeling the tension grow stronger.

“I… I wanted to talk about us.”

“How so, mesh’la?”

You started to get flustered and tried not to choke on your words, “I-I know we have been together for almost a year and I wanted to talk about… um…” You felt your face start to heat up more, “Dank farrik.” You cussed quietly, causing the boys to chuckle.

“It’s alright, ad'ika. Take your time.”

You nodded and hummed, “Umm, I wanted to talk about… becoming intimate?”

The boys looked at each other, shocked by the words that just left your lips. This caused you to sigh and turn away.

“Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything-”

“No, no, mesh’la. It’s alright.” Hunter took hold of your shoulders and crouched to meet your eyes, “We’ve… we’ve actually talked about this also.”

“You have?”

“Yes, but we were unsure how to approach you about this.” Tech admitted.

“Oh…” You sat back as Hunter stood up and looked at the others.

“We didn’t know if you preferred to talk about it individually, or if you wanted to talk as a group, but now we’re here.”

You nodded and cleared your throat, “Do… do you want me all at once or-”

“We don’t want to pressure you, ad’ika. If you want to start with us individually, you can.”

“Have you… have you done this before?”

“Well… we’ve had our share of lovers but never have shared one before you.”

You nodded, “Okay.”

“And we have been in group things with one or two brothers before, but not all of us together.”

“Ah.” You whispered, feeling smaller than before.

“And what about you, cyare?” Echo chimed, “Have you been with anyone?”

You blushed and looked down at your hands, fiddling with them nervously. It took each of them a moment before realizing what you were implying. No one really knew what to say, but then Wrecker spoke up.

“We don’t want to pressure you to choose who you’d like to... do it with first. And we’ll try not to be upset with who you choose.” Wrecker said as gently as he could. The other boys nodded and looked at you as your eyes scanned the room. Crosshair was still leaning against the wall, no change in facial or words coming from his lips. However, when you looked at him, his eyes quickly looked away. This must have meant he had something on his mind, but you weren’t going to make him tell you at the moment. You stood and looked at your lovers.

“Thank you so much for being so understanding.”

“Of course, mesh’la.”

Everyone dispersed and went back to whatever they were doing. You placed yourself in front of one of the ship’s computers and decided to look some things up. Some time passed and your eyes started to hurt from the brightness of the display. You then got up, decided to stretch your legs, and stepped on the seats to get something from the small storage compartment. As you were stepping down, a pair of hands grabbed your waist to help you. You turned once you were back on the floor and saw Crosshair. The both of you looked deeply into each other's eyes, not speaking; however, you knew he had some things to say. You gestured to the seats next to you which caused him to nod and sit with you.

“What… what do you think? Y’know, of what we discussed?”

He took a moment before speaking lowly, “I agree with the others. We won’t pressure you into choosing who you’d like to be intimate with first,” He hesitated before continuing, “I… I have had thoughts about you. About us…”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded before smiling, “Well, I guess we’ll just have to figure things out together. Luckily, we have some time off. Maybe something will happen on Coruscant…” He looked at you for a second before nodding. You kissed the corner of his lips gently then let him walk off to his compartment.

The Havoc Marauder landed in Coruscant at one of the local hangars. You held Wrecker’s hand as all of you walked out of the hangar and looked over Coruscant.

“Let’s get a car and head to 79’s.” Hunter suggested, heading to another part of the hangar. There was a small garage that let people rent out speeder bikes and other vehicles of transportation. A skiff was rented since you were a big group, and you all headed to 79’s.

You walked into the bar and looked around, seeing many clone troopers and some other different customers. Tech took your hand before leading you to a booth big enough to seat the six of you. Even if the place was mainly full of clones, it was a fairly new atmosphere for you. People were yelling, laughing, and even singing: though it wasn’t any good. It was entirely different from when the clones would spend their free time on Kamino, which was mostly for training or eating in the mess hall.

Tech stood and looked at the lot of you, “I’m going to get us a round of drinks. Your usuals, brothers?”

They nodded and then he looked to you, “Anything for you, darling?”

“Um… something not too strong, please.”

Once he went to the bar, the others sat quietly. You looked around, and recognized most of the other clones. Even if they had the same face, you can tell them apart individually from certain physical marks and mannerisms. Someone called your name from across the bar so you turned. It was Noco with a few others from his squadron. The boys groaned while rolling their eyes, which made you laugh gently before greeting him as he walked over to your table.

“I didn’t know you came here!” He grinned.

“First time. Do you come here often?”

“Of course. I’m always near the temple in case any of the jedi masters need help.”

That was one thing Noco seemed to always talk about. The Jedi. You didn’t blame his enthusiasm, but it was starting to get tedious.

“That sounds amazing, Noco. I-” You stopped when you looked over to the bar to see Tech being fondled over by some random woman, “I… just want to relax with my squadron for now. It was nice seeing you and I hope we can catch up on Kamino when we aren’t drinking.”

Noco laughed, “Of course!” He then walked back to his friends and they ordered a round of drinks. Your eyes then immediately averted back to Tech. The woman had her hands nearly everywhere and you could feel yourself start to burn a hole into her with your eyes.

“Mesh’la? What’s wrong?” Echo looked over to where you were looking, realizing why you were so distracted. He smirked and nudged Hunter. He also looked before patting Crosshair’s shoulder to relay the situation at hand. Wrecker had been busy ordering some food for you all at the other side of the bar. As you were still looking at the woman and Tech, Hunter spoke.

“Tech! Why don’t you bring your friend over!”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked at Hunter, who sat back and shrugged, but a sly smile formed on his lips. Tech walked over with the tray of drinks and the woman by his side.

“Friends, this is Ky’ari. She lives around these parts.”

The boys shook hands with her while introducing themselves. Tech took a seat next to Crosshair and she leaned over his shoulder. You clenched your hand closed which caused your knuckles to turn almost white. Crosshair saw this and a small smirk reached his mouth.

“This is our communications officer: Lodestar.” He introduced.

“Lodestar, what a funny name.” Ky’ari smiled,

“It’s a nickname.” You managed to get out. The heat in your chest and throat started to rise and you wanted to spit venom at this woman.

“What’s an officer like you hanging around here for?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” You downed your drink, “You’re such a pretty woman, should be all over those holoboards outside.”

“I like the company.”

“Well there’s plenty of that here. And lucky you, they look the same so you don’t have to learn their names.” You shrugged, leaning back and looking at the boys, “Almost all of them have the same body and stamina anyways.”

It was Crosshair and Hunter’s turn to have sour faces due to being compared to all the regs in the bar. Wrecker made his way back with a tray full of food and laughed.

“Sorry about that! Couldn’t find my credit holder!”

The woman’s eyes lit up seeing Wrecker, but an idea popped up in your head.

“Here, Wreck, let me give you some more room. May I?” You gestured to his lap and he grinned before nodding.

You moved and gently hummed, “Well, let’s all try to have a nice night and relax.” You picked up a piece of food and popped it into your mouth.

Wrecker was enjoying the food also while the other boys looked at you. Each one of them had a hint of jealousy behind their eyes. It wasn’t long before the woman was distracted by a different clone and left all of you alone. You knew you were going to be in for a long night.

XXXXXXX

Another reminder that requests are open! You find the link to the guidelines on my Masterlist post!

[cosmicsierra]

Oh I'd love to see the scenario you have for “I don’t see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you,” anyone else but you by moldy peaches, please?

thank you for the request anon! i was super excited to write this! here is some tech fluff :) only warnings are a club scene that includes light discussion of a lap dance. I hope you enjoy <3

prompts from songs that remind me of tech

Tech was a soldier. A soldier loyal to the Republic, created with an exceptional mind by the Kaminoans to be the brains of a team that worked together. He spent his time in his youth training to become more efficient and researching subjects all over the holonet on a datapad given to him by the Kaminoans, not to mention the research being done on him. Not only did he face strict testing and orders from the Kaminoans, but also throughout the Clone War.

In every part of his life, he has never been inclined to truly love anyone in a romantic way. He held love for his brothers, even when they teased him relentlessly and embarrassed him in public. Even more so, the clones encouraged him to partake in activities with various people spotted in bars. Wrecker even went as far as buying him a dance from a female Twi’lek who most clones longed after. Reminiscing on the memory, Tech cringed in real time. The Twi’lek sauntered over to him. Heads of clones turned his way, jealousy in the eyes of most. Not quite aware of what was happening until she took a seat on his lap, his eyes flicked to Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair confusingly, before finally settling on a laughing Wrecker.

The Twi’Lek grabbed his chin, tilting it up to look at her. He quietly informed her that he was not interested in partaking in such an act, and instead directed her toward Wrecker. She smiled, seeming to understand and accept the fact, and stood up to walk to Wrecker.

Hunter leaned over to him, “You refused an offer like that?” He spoke quietly under the music.

Tech shrugged, “I didn’t see anything in her.” His hands settled on his datapad. He intended to research why so many men lusted after female Twi’leks. Hunter sighed.

Tech flinched thinking of the memory, deciding instead to dwell on a more preferable memory. The first time he met you.

He wandered around the streets of Coruscant and searched for the library that the regs had told him about. Regrettably lost without his datapad, he relied on the spoken word to help him find the library of Coruscant. He longed to just go to the Jedi archives, however, clones were only permitted in certain areas of the temple and the archives were not one of those areas.

So, here he was, on a wild bantha chase in search of a place he began to think didn’t exist. As he was about to abandon the haste of the research about the planet the batch was on the way to next, he spotted the library. Matching the durasteel architecture of Coruscant, the library stood tall and mature. The building was nearly all glass and durasteel. Feeling a bit more inspiration, he picked up his pace toward the looming building.

While walking, his mind raced with just how much information could fit in that library. Although it was in no comparison to the holonet, it had been some time since he was able to enter a library, and he was eager at the thought.

The doors opened, revealing to Tech a large collection of books, holopad recordings, and so much more. The library was stories high and each floor was shaped similar to a square, with an empty section in the middle of each floor to look out at all of the other sections above and below.

As his eyes took everything the vast library had to offer beneath his helmet, he failed to notice the person approaching from behind.

“Hi there,” you waved politely, “is there anything specific you’re looking for today?” You held one arm with the other nervously.

Tech did not notice the introduction, instead still marveling in the wonder that is physical knowledge. Then, he felt a tap on his armor that nearly made him reach for his blaster. He whipped around only to be confronted by you.

If he hadn’t been rendered speechless by the stunning building, now he was a wreck. He watched as you scratched the back of your head, laughing softly, “Sorry, I really didn’t intend to scare you.”

He gazed at you, feeling a warmth in his stomach that he hadn’t personally felt before, but had studied after Wrecker said it was how the Twi’lek made him feel.

“Are you okay there buddy?” You asked, genuinely seeming concerned at this point. Your arms reached toward him, as he likely looked like he was about to faint.

“My apologies. When individuals find someone attractive, they often develop a strange phenomenon of ‘butterflies in the stomach’,” He watches as your eyes widen, showing interest, and continues, “This is a case of nerves or thoughts and feelings, which in turn end up compromising maximum performance. Evidently, as you just observed at the expense of my dignity.” Tech explained and laughed, then waited for your reaction. The feeling had not eased up any.

He watched you as your mind grinded gears. You crossed your arms and leaned to one side, “Are you saying you find me attractive? We’ve only just met!” You talked in hushed tones, chuckling a bit. “Anyways… what brings you here? I’ve never seen a clone in here.”

Tech smiled to himself under his helmet. “It appears that in a careless manner I have broken my datapad for the time being. I need to do some research on the planet my squad is heading to tomorrow.” The feeling in his stomach never left as you explained to him how to find information about planets and systems. Even when focused on the planet after you had left him to his own business, he felt as if he wanted to talk to you more.

He made sure to say farewell before leaving, although he returned to the library as soon as the batch came back from their mission a week later. His brothers had never seen him in such a hurry. Of course, by then, his datapad was fixed. That really left his brothers confused.

As Tech ran from the landing platform toward the streets of Coruscant, Echo called out to him, “Tech! You forgot your datapad!” He held it up in the air.

Hunter and Crosshair eyed the datapad suspiciously. That thing literally never leaves Tech’s side, where was he going without it? They shared a quizzical look with Echo. Soon, their attention was turned to Tech, who was already far, yelling back, “I won’t need it! Keep it safe!” He waved over his shoulder and continued in a run.

Before the end of the war as it raged on, Tech would wander to your Coruscant apartment or the library (wherever you were for the time of day or night), and you two would spend hours together. One night in particular, you asked him a question that he couldn’t answer.

Legs intertwined, your head on his shoulder and his arm cradling your head, Tech sighed contently. You looked up to him and asked what the long sigh was about. He dismissed your concern, telling you that he was at ease and relaxed.

“When the war is over, will you come to me?” Your question was sudden. The sound of your voice split through the room. It sounded small, nervous, and apprehensive. Tech had never considered the end of the war and what it meant for you two. Your relationship hadn’t been particularly closed off, but neither of you felt compelled to be with anyone else. The confirmation of an exclusive relationship was just never discussed.

He looked down to you and ran his hand through your hair. “I don't see what anyone can see in anyone else, but you. Of course I’ll come to you. I’ll be here.” He planted a kiss on your forehead and hugged you to his body tightly.

masterlist

taglist: @incandescentlywarm @morgonjinn

[one-real-imonkey]

For your CG ask - what if Fox gets Fed Up (sleep/caffeine deprived or smth - your pick) one day and goes: “you know, I’m probably dead meant walking, might as well drag them all to hell with me” and verbally flays the Senate alive. Padme is cheering him on, Bail is laughing so hard he’s got tears in his eyes, Palpafart’s complexion matches his office - the whole nine yards. Imagine the Chaos.

I adore this, but it could go two ways.

On the one hand you have the comical one where this super sleep deprived not sure where he even is Fox who sees someone demeaning one of his siblings and his eye twitches, something in him just snaps, he chugs an entire thermos of Caff and just goes for it. He just starts outing things and wrecks the Siths entire plans. It’s comical and chaos in a funny way. Watching the bad guys panic and the good guys celebrate.

But you know me and I love angst.

So, on the other, more angsty hand, similar premise but dark.

He’s talking about the atrocities committed against the guard, things his vode on the frontlines never knew about because there was nothing they could do and the vode in the Guard didn’t want them worrying, even if it means they had to take the brunt of jokes about their sitting about doing nothing while the ones on the front lines were dying. He outs every single Senator who claims to be pro clone Rights but refers to them as it and treats them worse than their droids or pets, makes them kneel and dehumanises them and threatens their very lives for something as simple and unavoidable as sneezing or coughing, and every single thing Palpatine did, including mind control and using them for personal hits and anything else he wanted. (Go as dark as your mind takes you for how evil Palpatine is)

How clones were designed not to break in battle but they weren’t trained for this and how the shinies wake up screaming, how they have missing gaps in their memories and constant headaches and all of it.

How they’ve had to create their own little support systems and how they have to give shinies flash training on how things work or they’ll end up suffering through hells. How their med bay has a separate section that’s closed off that’s just for the shinies or elder vode who need somewhere to sit and cry and maybe be hugged.

About the lengths they had to go to just to protect vode who were different, but then, what did it matter if the clones used he or she when the Senators mostly used it, except for the risk of what would happen if those pronouns were used outside of the barracks because it was almost worse than Kamino for deviations and no-one wanted to be singled out (for one reason or another) except the commanders to take attention away from their younger siblings.

He calls the Senate out for what they’ve done.

The Senators are horrified, either because their crimes, the ones they didn’t consider crimes because clones aren’t people and who are they ever going to tell that’ll believe them over a Senator, have been outed to the galaxy, or because they had no idea something so genuinely deplorable was happening under there noses in somewhere they considered at least mostly respectable. The ones like Bail and Padmé who could never have dreamed something so evil could be happening.

Not tears of laughter but tears of horror.

But in the end it’s a good thing.

An election is called. The senators backing or working with Palpatine are all voted out by their people, Palpatine loses on Naboo and also the Chancellorship, the Clones and Jedi are no longer forced to fight or serve, without Palpatine there is a peaceful resolution to the Separatists leaving with trade deals established and the invasions and war halted. Mandalore is no longer being influenced by the Sith (death watch) or backed by the Republic for any one faction (new mandos). The war and conflict is over, the thousand year plot brought down by one clone broken by their situation and desperate to protect their younger siblings.

Palpatine is taken out by a sniper (who may or not be a clone outraged by the fake war and worse what the bastard was doing to their siblings in the guard) and the Order never goes into effect because the call for election is made the SECOND Fox finished his rant. Palpatine tried to take Fox with him, but the other Guard commanders (realising that Fox’s headaches and memory gaps always came after his meetings with Palpatine) refused to let him near their brother.

Cody and Wolffe and Rex show up a little while after the initial broadcast (as soon as they could) and pull Fox into their arms begging him to explain why he never told them how bad things were. This is followed by cuddle piles and comfort, something that’s happening across the guard with all the returning clones finding their siblings and making sure they’re ok and happy and safe.

The Jedi are finally allowed to open up the lower levels of the Temple to house the vode who want to stay, and to help any who wanted to leave and find something else out there, finally allowed to back out of the fighting they never wanted to be part of in the first place but Palpatines War Clause not only drafted them but made it impossible for them to back out without the punishment that goes with desertion, finally allowed to take the breaks they were denied so they can heal their minds and bodies.

The galaxy heals.

So basically it’s super angsty but has a sweet ending.

———

(Thank you for sending this it’s brilliant and I love it)

[the-last-kenobi]

AHHH YOU’RE TAKING REQUESTS 🚨🚨🚨 Okay okay uhhhhh I can’t decide between 13 or 18 so you choose! With hurt Obi-Wan and caretaker Anakin, please!

I AM INDEED TAKING PROMPTS

And because you’re amazing and I love all your writing I have decided to write both 13 and 18 into one story, we’ll see how this goes yikes.

From this various prompts list

_

Anakin moved quickly up the hallway, trying to keep his footsteps as soft as possible.

It was very late — or very early, depending on one’s point of view. The low-lights were on, and Anakin felt like he was intruding somehow, in this residential wing that was almost entirely deserted due to the war.

The damned war.

Anakin clenched his fists. I can’t afford to be angry right now, he told himself. I need to talk to Obi-Wan and I can’t start out by yelling at him.

It was tempting to lash out at Obi-Wan.

They hadn’t had a proper conversation in months, not since the Hardeen operation and everything that it had entailed, and then Obi-Wan up and vanished on some discreet mission, stopping only to ask Anakin for a ship to borrow.

Anakin had discovered Obi-Wan’s return only when Acquisitions had notified him that his ship would be late in returning to his care due to extensive damage. Flight logs indicated that his Master had returned a full five days before. Five days without so much as a comm message letting his lineage know he was back home. Nothing.

For a few hours Anakin had foundered, stewing in disbelief and anger, but as night crept in he had begun to feel something different.

Concern.

And something that might have been the Force, prompting him, pushing him.

And so here he was, silently keying in the manual code to Obi-Wan’s quarters — technically still his own, although he spent most nights at Padmé’s or in a private room.

The door swished open.

It was utterly dark.

That wasn’t unusual; when he had the chance, Obi-Wan preferred to sleep in complete darkness. He said it felt more natural. No distractions tugging at his brain.

What was unusual was the state of disarray.

There was a kettle sitting on the counter, so near the edge it made Anakin nervous. He walked over and moved it a few inches, his eyebrows flying up when he felt the weight. When he lifted the lid, it was obvious that this was days-old, and untouched to boot.

Was Obi-Wan sick? Was he in the Halls? Surely someone would have notified him. Surely.

Anakin looked around and took note of the robe discarded against the wall, the boots left in the middle of the walkway. There was an empty mug on the reading table, and a holo-still sitting beside it, as if Obi-Wan had stared at it for awhile and then set it down — the only item that looked carefully treated.

On closer inspection, it was a holo of Obi-Wan, far younger than Anakin had ever seen him, next to Qui-Gon and a dark-skinned woman he had never seen before.

Qui-Gon was in the center, facing a little to the left, his eyes on the woman, a full smile on his face. Anakin stared. The Jedi he remembered had been understated, his smiles always a little sad. This Qui-Gon looked about to throw his head back in laughter. The woman was looking down at Obi-Wan, who stood on Qui-Gon’s other side. She was nearly as tall as Qui-Gon, her hair was braided into several intricate sections; she was smirking conspiratorially at the young Padawan.

And Obi-Wan was smiling shyly back. Although his Master wasn’t looking at him, he had draped one arm around Obi-Wan, and the boy was leaning into the casual touch.

They all looked ridiculously young and ridiculously happy, and Anakin didn’t even know who one of them was. He had never heard of this woman, or why she wasn’t around any more, because she must not be, and he had certainly never heard stories of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. Not unless it was relevant to whatever they had been doing, or whatever lesson Obi-Wan had been trying to teach.

His Master was so damned secretive.

Angry again, Anakin replaced the holo-still and glanced around the room, thinking to check the Halls of Healing next.

Then he spotted something that made him instinctively recoil.

A Mandalorian helmet, sitting on the chair, painted in stark black and red and rendered in Death Watch’s style.

Heart hammering, Anakin picked it up and examined it, finding gouges and dents in the beskar alloy, signs of years of wear and tear.

Why was it here? Why was there a Death Watch helmet here, in their rooms? It didn’t make any sense!

His first wild thought was that the extremist group had somehow broken in, taken Obi-Wan, and left this behind. Then he mentally shook himself. That was beyond absurd.

So what then?

Anakin tucked the helmet under his arm and cautiously approached his former Master’s room, pressing the door aside slowly.

Obi-Wan was right there.

Sitting on his bed, dressed only in stained and scorched trousers and an undershirt, his head in his hands. His fingers were buried so deeply in his hair it looked as if he were trying to tear his skull open.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin burst out without intending to, the last few hours of anger, confusion, and momentary panic getting the better of him.

Except the older man didn’t react at all.

“...Hey. Obi-Wan.”

After a pause, the man on the bed shifted slightly, and then sat up. His fingers hastily brushed his hair back into order as he did, and his face, though white as a sheet, was a perfectly blank mask.

Anakin didn’t buy a bit of it.

“Obi-Wan... tell me what’s going on.”

The man who was Obi-Wan but wasn’t acting at all like him gave a slight shrug. “There’s a lot going on, Anakin, we’re at war. What is it you needed at one in the morning?”

Well, at least he knows what time it is.

“You’ve been back for days. I haven’t seen you.”

“Ah. Your ship?”

“I’m not worried about the ship. I’m worried about you. I don’t even know where you were!” Anakin said, his voice rising again. He cut himself off quickly.

Obi-Wan frowned slightly. “I was... on leave.”

“On leave?” Obi-Wan didn’t go on leave. Obi-Wan never stopped working, hadn’t since Geonosis. “You said it was a mission.”

The older Jedi passed a hand over his mouth before speaking again. “I... it wasn’t an endorsed mission. I undertook it myself.”

A non-endorsed mission... “You mean you went off on your own?” Anakin demanded, shocked. “Tell me you weren’t chasing Maul!”

Obi-Wan went white to the lips. He opened his mouth to speak, and then he spotted the helmet under Anakin’s arm and choked on his words, falling dead silent.

Anakin considered for a moment. Then he studied the helmet again. Taking it in.

Death Watch.

Mandalore.

A personal, self-assigned mission.

Satine.

Red and black.

Maul.

“...Oh, Force, Obi-Wan.” Anakin said numbly. Thinking of Padmé. Thinking of Obi-Wan and the confession he’d made to Satine, one that Anakin had not been meant to overhear. “I’m so sorry.”

Obi-Wan said nothing.

He just stared at Anakin for a few moments before nodding his head in acknowledgement.

Anakin set the helmet down on the desk and edged closer to the bed, his eyes on his friend, wary as if he were approaching a traumatized animal. “Can I sit?”

A nod.

Anakin sat down.

“...Is it all right if I hug you?”

A very long pause. A small nod.

Anakin placed his palm on Obi-Wan’s back, then slowly moved so his arm was around the man’s shoulders. When Obi-Wan didn’t pull away, Anakin drew closer, tilting his head down to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Like he had when he was younger, and his Master was the best in the Temple, in the whole galaxy, and there was no war, just missions and too much meditation and time enough to just sit like this when they were tired and overwrought.

Obi-Wan shuddered in his hold. Not repulsed, but something else. Like he was cold.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked.

His friend shook his head, but trembled harder, his breathing fluctuating.

“Obi-Wan.”

“Feel... nauseous,” the redhead mumbled, and then he doubled over, toppling head over heels towards the floor. Anakin cried out, lunged and caught him just in time, hauling his former Master into his arms and holding him, his heart pounding from the sudden shock.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept? Or eaten?” he demanded, thinking of the tea kettle.

“Mm... not since the night I got back. For eating. I don’t know about sleeping. I honestly... can’t remember...” Obi-Wan murmured. He was shivering now, his face pale and twisted with discomfort. He looked too weak to move, and he really must have been, because all he managed when Anakin cradled him closer and stood up with him in his arms was a low groan.

“We’re going to the Halls,” Anakin informed him curtly, striding out of the room with Obi-Wan in his arms, still trembling.

Obi-Wan made a noise of protest, but Anakin shook his head. “No. You need to see Healers.” He watched his friend’s eyes mist over vaguely, with grief or with illness it was hard to say. “I’ll stay with you the whole time,” Anakin vowed, meaning every word. “It’ll be fine. As soon as they’re ready to release you we’ll come right back here and you can sleep in your own bed.”

Obi-Wan mumbled something that seemed to include, ‘not a child.’

“Yeah, yeah, and I’m not your Padawan anymore. We still boss each other around. Just how it is,” Anakin said.

Obi-Wan huffed a laugh, tilting his head against Anakin’s shoulder. He took a deep breath. Then another. And then he was asleep.

“Damn,” Anakin whispered aloud. “Damn, damn, damn, you’re really not in good shape. You shouldn’t be this easy to carry, for one thing. Dammit, Obi-Wan. Why do you have to be so secretive?”

Is he secretive?

Or have I just never asked, and never listened?

Anakin honestly didn’t know, and that bothered him.

“Sleep, Master,” he murmured, adjusting his arms so that Obi-Wan was more comfortable. “We’ll talk when you’re ready. I promise. I’ve got you. We’re going to make it through this whole damn war, together.”

_

[officialgomezaddams]

Cabin House

if this dosen’t take im shooting myself $wag no TW except usual sadness. Slight simp anakin and breeding kink but iykyk

She sat outside on the porch in her rocking chair, watching the ship in front of her lower its self onto the meadow surrounding the cabin that she lived in with her husband. She smiled to herself, her hands rubbing her pregnant stomach in relief that he was home. It was a new feeling to both of them, homeliness. A family that is now back together. Or at the very least, the start of one. 

They had met when they were both young, Anakin was in Jedi training, and Y/n was a mechanic at the same temple. It was a decent gig, she reasoned with herself. The many hours and days spent watching and learning from her father in his shop had paid off. 

Born and raised in the capital of the galaxy, the high life never slowed down. There was always loud traffic, busy trade; the planet never slept. Anyone could go to a party or club; some festival was always happening. The temple was different, a little peace in the concrete jungle. As the war started, the need for maintenance shot up—the urgency to fix whatever droids or ships needed to be rewired or mending broken welds. Simultaneously, the Jedi and the politicians tried to restore the balance, maintenance fixing everything else. 

A job was a job, and getting herself out of her father’s small auto body garage was a priority for her. Pulling night shift sucked, but the lack of staff and management who wanted to do nights meant she could get away with a lot. 

It started when the shy padawan walked up to her, the shift partner in the area she worked with was sleeping in his chair, and even tho he was older than her and had more experience, Y/n didn’t wake him up. It was her first real interaction with someone who was force sensitive, and she was thanking the stars that this boy somehow made his way to her.

It wasn’t because he was lost. Anakin had been at the temple long enough to know it by hand and could probably draw blueprints of the entire layout. The way around maintenance wasn’t that hard, as he often borrowed material from them to fix small stuff he could handle. Anakin had caught glimpses of her, he would stare at her for the few seconds it took to pass each other while he was leaving the ship and for maintenance to check it for any repairs that needed to be done.

“What’s up, Starboy?” Y/n teased. Even though she had never met him formally, he was quite well known for his destiny. 

He shuffled his feet around, and all the confidence he once had was gone. He looked at her before looking down at the table she was in front of, watching her set down the wrench she was fiddling with. 

“I need an arm.” He shot out, not even knowing how to ask for such a thing. 

“An arm?” She had responded, wanting to make sure he had said the right thing. “Why do you need an arm-” She asked but quickly stopped as he dropped his robe, and she realized he was missing the very thing he had asked for. “Oh. You need an arm.”

It took about six months for the arm to be built. It took a lot of measurements, calculating, and many, many nights for it to be made giving Anakin time to grow his confidence back up and flirt relentlessly with her. Telling her that it didn’t bother him that he would almost get little to no sleep because ‘being with you is a dream I never want to wake up from.’ On the nights he didn’t see her he would tell her, ‘Even though I couldn’t be with you, I still see you in my dreams. The best dreams I will ever have will always be the ones where you are in it. My dreams with you are so sweet to the violent reality of being a Jedi.’ 

The last night the two spent together working on his arm, or to be honest it was just her while Anakin would pour his heart out to her, hoping for something, a kiss, or even the simple statement that she returned his feelings. 

“If I have any problems with my arm, I’m coming to you. For my arm and my heart, you are the only one who knows how to fix them. Help me Y/n, my heart hurts, it burns for you. Every time I leave you or think about how you aren’t mine it aches. It’s so painful. Fix it, please. Tell me you don’t feel the same way, that your heart beats differently to the tune of mine.” He told her, watching her with doe eyes as she concentrated on wiring the last few things together. 

“Isn’t that against your rules?” 

“Attachment is forbidden, possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is essential to a Jedi’s life. So you might say I am encouraged to feel this way about you.” He stated, awkwardly biting his lip which made her giggle. 

“In three days, I have time off, maybe then you can teach me about this new teaching, and I can teach you something about how to use the arm.”

Neither of them expected it to be like this. Married and expecting. The moment she had told Anakin the news, he had immediately begun thinking of moving. Getting away from the city life and going somewhere more quiet and peaceful. Somewhere the war could not disturb them, so they landed in Alderaan. The whole planet was pulled right from a painting, and the moment they settled on the cozy cabin, they both realized that after years of running around, they finally found their home. With each other, in their soon-to-be family, and in Alderaan. 

As the ship lowered its self to the ground, the woman awkwardly got out of the chair and stood up, holding onto the wooden frame of the porch. Anakin swiftly got out, smiling from ear to ear as he saw her waiting for him. His feet moved on their own as he ran to her, watching her take careful steps to meet him. Before she knew it, his arms were around her, pulling her into him. “Don’t strain yourself for me.” He whispered, kissing her head. 

She was thirty-three weeks into her pregnancy with twins. The two babies growing safely in her womb had made things more difficult for her in terms of moving around, and she had long forgotten her shoes. 

They didn’t move in right away. They waited until work became difficult for Y/n, getting down to work on something wasn’t easy anymore, and she couldn’t be on her feet for more than an hour and a half until her feet started hurting. On the other hand, Anakin wanted to move in as soon as they got it. ‘You shouldn’t have to work, you’re pregnant with our babies, and I want you to enjoy this.’ He also knew how chatty the maintenance section was and was not looking forward to any rumors that could be spread about his wife. ‘Tell them they are mine. I’m not going to let them disrespect my children by disrespecting you. Tell them that I got you pregnant, that you took me in, and this is what my seed is doing to you.’

“How are you, my angel?” He asked, watching as the moonlight hit her face. He had been gone for most of the pregnancy, being forced to leave after her first doctor’s appointment that confirmed that Y/n was with child. Only then, she was nine weeks far too early to be showing anything. He came back to her a few weeks later, and the first thing he did when he greeted her was to kiss her fourteen-week stomach, but he didn’t stay long. The three days they were together were spent moving quickly into the new house. Only the important things she needed were to stay back at the temple so she could continue with work. They didn’t have much, but Anakin insisted on carrying everything, telling her that she was not even to lift her jewelry box because he didn’t want anything to happen to the babies. 

“Bored. I’ve been itching to get back to work; there’s only so much you can crochet before you want to stab yourself with the needles.” She joked, making them both laugh. 

“And the babies?” He asked, his hands dropping to rub the sides of her stomach. It brought him pride to see her like this. Seeing her carrying his child, seeing her full belly, smiling at the thought of the stretch marks that clung to her round belly, knowing that her body was adjusting well. The few times he was able to see Y/n through the hologram, he always admired his wife’s new changing body.

“Restless. I’m hoping now that you’re home, they’ll calm down for a little bit.” Anakin pulled her into a soft kiss. The whole time he had been away, she and the babies were always on his mind. He would wonder if they were kicking or thinking about what to name them. He would think about Y/n, if she was sleeping and if she was pushing herself too hard. He felt terrible for not being there to hold her hair back through morning sickness or walk her around to make sure she got the proper exercise she needed. He felt so useless. 

“How long do I have you back for?” She asked. It was an impossible question because no matter what time frame they had, it wouldn’t be enough. She just wanted him to be here with her, safe. The only good part about being away from the temple was she got away from all the rumors about her husband being dead or being held somewhere and tortured. She wanted him here in their home, enjoying the moments and milestones that she was going through alone. She had convinced herself that if - stars forbid it- something happened to Anakin, she could do it by herself. She could raise the kids and do what she could to make ends meet. It’d be challenging, and she understood that. But in her opinion, what could be harder than going through this pregnancy alone? Forcing herself to get the rooms ready, forcing her co-workers at the temple to help her in the later stages because she couldn’t depend on Anakin. 

He quietly led her to the house, purposefully ignoring the question because he knew that it wouldn’t be the one she wanted to hear. Only when she asked again as they reached the front door, he answered. “A week. Then I have to go back, and I don’t know where the council is sending me. Probably to Hutta.”

“You’re gonna be here for the births, right?” She pressed, stepping into the warm cabin and away from the cool breeze of the night along with his arms. 

“Y/n, I promise that once our children are born, I will be there for everything,” He reassured her. He knew it was a promise that he couldn’t keep. That the Jedi council would most likely tear him away from his family sooner or later. With war, or keeping the force away from the Darkside, he knew that it would be something. “Don’t look at me like that, Angel. You know how hard this is for me. You knew what you were getting yourself into.” He took a step towards her, but she shook her head and stepped back, turning around and began waddling herself towards the shared bedroom. 

“But I didn’t expect it to be left by myself throughout this.” His wife began, with Anakin following her quickly. “All alone and pregnant just to have you, my husband, show up for a few hours or a few days if I am lucky. Then to have him leave me alone again.”

“Am I not here, in our home when I can be?” 

“Our home?” She raised her voice, “It feels as if you are no more than a guest.” Finally turning around to look at him before walking over to the bed and sitting down facing away from him, looking out the window that gave a view of the spacecraft out front. “Anakin, I want to go back to the Coruscant.”

“Going back wouldn’t change a thing.” His words were forced, trying to stay calm and not lose his temper. He was a good husband, or at least he tried to be. It wasn’t easy - for anyone. But he tried, skipping meetings and purposefully doing stuff to get close to you, reporting ships and droids as broken so he could sit with you as you worked on them. Even now, with the war, just being on the opposite side of the same planet was enough for him. “You know that I can’t control what happens out there. I don’t get to pick and choose when I get to stay home!” His anger was cut off by the sound of her whimper. 

“Y/n, Starlight,” He was cautious with his words now, “Y/n?” She would not face him as he sat down next to her on the corner of the bed, his head down in shame. “Please tell me you don’t regret this.” Any of this, he thought to himself, knowing it was always her who got the short end of the lifestyle they had to hide. 

“Anakin, our love is like the Coruscant. It’s messy at first glance, and it’s hard to understand why it hasn’t just fallen apart in chaos. It doesn’t make any sense. But if you squint hard enough and really focus in,” She began slowly, trying not to fall apart. “You can see how nice and beautiful and all of the great things you can get out of it.” Her lip quivered, and her voice broke, letting the painful tears she was holding in anymore. “But I’m so tired of squinting.”

Neither of them looked at each other. While Y/n cried into her hands, Anakin just sat there, trying to figure out what to do. “I-” The reality that this could be it, this is all about to end, made him re-think his words. Did he miss something? Was he too happy that he was starting a family with the girl he fell in love with at nineteen to realize that she was now, what? Fallen out of love for him while she was right about to give birth? For once, Anakin was speechless. He could still fix this, right? I have to fix this. She’s fucking pregnant with my children. Our children. 

“What do you want then? I’m here, now, Angel. I -I don’t know what you want.” His voice was pitiful, but she was strong. She had to if she was going to do this alone.

“I want you to get in your ship and leave.” 

As soon as she said it, he was protesting, ”Go where? Baby, please, don’t make me go back.” He was the one crying now, tears falling mercilessly down his face, realizing that this was it.

“I don’t care where you go, Anakin. Just- you can’t stay here. You make me too sad.” 

[val-aquenta]

Last day of Mace Windu Appreciation Week! The prompt: Freeform.

Here on ao3

A little fluffy moment betwen Knight Mace WIndu and Youngling Obi-Wan Kenobi. Thank you all for reading!

Mace had never meant to return to the Temple yet. As a new knight, he was meant to be out and about on missions, resettling into the sway of travelling without a Master, yet here he was. Staring down at a young child who was looking rather tearful. He knelt quickly, one hand lingering on his knee. The boy was red in his face and looked, in Mace’s opinion, positively adorable. “Forgive me, young one, I did not see you there.” There was a soft sniffle and the boy rubbed his face before looking back up, his expressions more in control. He smiled, “There you are. Now, did I hurt you?”

The boy shakes his head, looking at his hands. Oh my Force, he’s so tiny. His hands! Mace thinks watching as the boy stands up and looks up at him. “No, Master…”

Mace gently shakes his head, “I’m a knight, young one, not a Master yet. My name is Mace Windu. What’s yours?” Mace prompts.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.” The boy, Obi-Wan shifts slightly, looking around before turning and looking back at Mace. 

“Do you have anywhere you’re supposed to be?” He asks, head tilting slightly to the side. 

Obi-Wan looks at him with a soft smile. “Yes? But… Bant left me behind on accident, so I… I think I’m lost.” The boy’s face scrunches up in confusion. “I’ve just been walking around…” 

“And managed to get into the closed-off section?” Mace hums. He stands up. “If you would like, I can take you back to the creche?” Obi-Wan nods, stepping closer to Mace and reaching out to tug on his fingers. 

“Do you think Master Dolan will be angry?” Earnest eyes raised at him. He swears there’s a little sparkle in those eyes. 

“I think he's likely worried, Obi-Wan.” Mace looks around for a second and then begins leading the way out of the closed sector of the Temple. Back when there were more Jedi, these rooms would have been used, but now that their populations dwindled entire sections were closed off as keeping them running simply became too costly for the meagre funds the Republic sent their way. He looks down at Obi-Wan, consciously slowing his pace so that the child can keep up comfortably. Obi-Wan is quiet, remarkably so. His steps are soft little pads on the stone floor. There is a light humming coming from his companion. A song from the creche, he recalls quickly. 

“Knight Windu, how old are you?” Mace raises his brows at Obi-Wan who flushes. “I-I’m sorry Master, you don’t have to answer.” 

“Not to worry, Obi-Wan. I don’t mind, but take note that many other beings do mind.” Obi-Wan nods. “I’m 22.” 

There is a pause before the boy murmurs, “15?” Mace looks down at the boy in confusion, sending a small pulse into the Force. Obi-Wan looks up and startles a little. “Oh… 15 years difference. Between you and me.”

“So you’re… 7?” Obi-Wan nods, seeming very proud of his age. “Very old, huh?”

“Master Dolan says that soon I’ll be able to get my own crystal to build my sabre, though the power will have to be re,” Obi-Wan pauses to suck in a short breath, “regulated. Is your lightsaber regulated, Knight Windu?”

“Sometimes. If I’m sparring with friends for example. Or teaching young 7-year-olds.” He smiles gently, indicating the boy to turn left. “Here we are, just a little bit more.”

“Can I see? Please?” Obi-Wan looks at him. “What colour is it? And what about your hilt design. I’m not sure what I’d want from my hilt, or my regulator or anything, but Master Dolan says that I’ll know when the Force wills it. Did the Force tell you about your sabre, Knight Windu?” Mace blinks, a little shocked before a smile tugs the corners of his lips up. 

“I suppose it did.” He hums thoughtfully. “I had a plan, I suppose, a vague idea of what I wanted the hilt to be made of, the approximate size, the feel of it in my hand, but I had no idea how it would actually look until I made it.” He unclips his sabre, showing the general size and shape. “And the colour of the blade? Now that was a surprise.” Leaning away he thumbs it on, the purple hilt bursting forth with a comforting hum. Obi-Wan’s eyes are wide as plates, shining in the purple light. Mace thumbs it off after a moment, clipping it onto his belt. “But, perhaps you will have a different experience. Shaak, that is Knight Ti, she had a pretty detailed diagram of her lightsaber, though she tweaked it a little when she built it.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen purple. Why is it purple?” Obi-Wan shuffles closer, looking up at him. “I’ve seen all kinds of colours between green and blue and yellow and orange and I think I saw a white blade once, but I’m not sure. I was really small. But I’ve never seen purple.”

“I don’t know why it’s purple. It simply is.” Obi-Wan, if possible, looked even more enthralled. “And you? What blade do you think you will have?”

“Well… when I have visions, I see different blades all the time. Sometimes they’re all black and rough while sometimes they’re gold and silver. Master Yoda says that it's because there are so many futures and I see different ones.” He pauses for a moment. “I do want a type three aurek silver hilt, though. They feel right.”

“Uh-huh.” Mace smiles. The young boy is truly endearing with the way he talks at such a rapid speed, stopping quickly for breaths and breaks. “Oh… we’re almost here. Do you know where you are meant to be?”

Obi-Wan looks up at him. “Well… Master Dolan said we were going to go to visit the archives.” He paused for a moment, hand fiddling with the edge of his sleeve before Obi-Wan looked up. “I don’t know where it is, though.” Mace blinked and smiled softly, projecting a soft reassurance, something that he recalled his creche master doing whenever he was overwhelmed by something. 

“It is no problem, Obi-Wan. I can take you to the archives, and we’ll find Master Dolan together, alright?” He reaches down and offers his hand. 

“Are you… sure?” He speaks with hesitation layering his voice. “I mean, Master Dolan says that Jedi are busy. Aren’t you busy?” Nevertheless, Obi-Wan reaches out and places his small hand in Mace’s trotting along beside Mace as they walk towards the archives.

“I’m on a break,” Mace admits, smiling at a friend who gives them a strange look before shrugging and hurrying along. The pack on their shoulder indicates a new mission.

Obi-Wan goes through the information before nodding seriously. “Master Aliya says that it’s important to have breaks during difficult tasks to not burnout.” The young boy lets out a huff before continuing, “I guess it makes sense you’re resting.” Mace almost wants to laugh, but he fears that the endearingly serious face would lift off of Obi-Wan’s face. 

“I would hope it does,” he offers seriously instead, squeezing Obi-Wan’s hand as they turn a corner almost running right into Master Rancisis. They manage to sidestep, getting a humoured look from the old Master before he slithers down the hallway. They’re almost there, and Mace feels strangely sad about it. The youngling had managed to burrow his way into his heart easily. Kira would say that most things manage to burrow their way into his heart, but he thinks even she would have problems saying no to Obi-Wan’s large eyes. “We’re almost here.”

Obi-Wan perks up, studying the hallway intently, wanting to memorise the route. “Master Yoda told us that the archives are one of the best-kept databases in the Republic. Have you ever seen another like it?” Mace thinks of the seemingly endless rows of blue holos as well as the flimsi copies kept in a more controlled environment to protect them from environmental damage. Indeed, many universities find their way into the database to use it for research. There is an open policy for the archives, though only a select few can change the contents within. He would say that no, he had not seen a library as vast and diverse and well kept as the archives, but he is not sure how much of that statement comes from a healthy fear of Madame Nu should she find out he’d said that. He’d rather not be on the archivist’s bad side. 

“Few have matched the archives' size and wealth of knowledge, though there is a vast library on Alderaan solely composed of original documents.” Obi-Wan looks at him curiously, urging him to continue, “It is more difficult for knowledge to be shared from that library due to the fact that the documents have not been recorded digitally, but it is still a vast library and a sight to behold.” He had visited it twice with Cyslin and the smell of old books paired with the elegant covers had very much seemed Alderaani. “Well, here we are. The archives. Let’s look for Mater Dolan, shall we?” Mace squeezed the hand softly, shooting Obi-Wan a smile. 

Obi-Wan grinned back and followed him, turning the corner. Almost immediately a large wookie was in front of him, and then he was kneeling down and reaching for Obi-Wan. “Thank the Force, Obi-Wan. Where in Force’s name were you? I’ve been worried sick! You and your habit of wandering…” Large hands flutter around, turning Obi-Wan from one side to the other before finally deeming him alright. The reddish-brown fur which had been standing on end in an agitated fashion smoothed down. Master Dolan’s eyes shifted from intently studying Obi-Wan’s face to looking at Mace. “Thank you so much for bringing him here. I was about to call the Temple guards.” The wookie says, head bowing in thanks. 

Mace smiles, “Oh it was no problem. Obi-Wan was a good walking companion.” He shot the boy a smile who still managed to smile back, large hands still resting on his shoulders. Master Dolan begins muttering under breath about how he was ageing prematurely and how ‘all these grey hairs are a result of your habit of wandering, young man.’ Finally, it seemed the wookie truly calmed and stood, towering over Mace though there was a gentleness in his eyes that made it feel calming and comforting. Obi-Wan stood by Master Dolan’s side, head leaning against the Master’s leg with a tired smile. 

“I’m Master Dolan,” he introduced himself, taking in a deep fortifying breath. “I can’t thank you enough, Knight…”

“Ah, Mace. Mace Windu.” Mace bowed a bit in greeting, “And truly, you don’t need to. Obi-Wan is a kind soul, I enjoyed our short walk back.”

“Nevertheless, I thank you.” 

“Ah, well, alright then. But I assure you, it was not an inconvenience at all.” Mace assured. 

The frazzled creche master calmed fully, looking down at the young child and giving him a little poke for attention. “Come now, what do you tell Knight Windu, hmm?” 

Obi-Wan blinked adorably before bowing respectfully, “thank you, Knight Windu, for bringing me back to Master Dolan.” His voice was somewhat soft, but strong still. 

“Well, thank you, Obi-Wan, for your company. I enjoyed our conversation very much.” The young boy perked up before turning to hide a bit behind the wookie Master’s leg, face bright red in embarrassment. Obi-Wan appeared to try and speak, but only a small squeak came out before he retreated further back behind the cover of the legs. 

After a while, though, the young boy found the courage to speak and peeked out, “I like talking with you, too,” he says seriously before retreating even further until he is practically hidden by the Master’s leg. 

“Well, I best be going. Master Dolan, Obi-Wan.” He bows in farewell, receiving one in response from the two. “May the Force be with you.”

Master Dolan smiles and replies in the same manner, “And with you.”

“Always. Obi-Wan adds, peeking out and waving his arm goodbye. “Bye, Knight Windu!”

[highsviolets]

Thinking about soft! Javi rights:

The country could be hot; you knew this by now. One of the first things you did upon arriving was stake out your local corner store, a nearby cafe, a fresh market. On one of these adventures, the day unbearably warm, you wandered into the freezer section and found a delicious popsicle treat made of milk and strawberries and quickly became obsessed with it.

Javier has become used to seeing the stash in your freezer, has become used to seeing you eating them during late afternoons, on weekend strolls, on FaceTime when he calls you at night.

Obsessed with the way your lips wrap around the sweet treat, the way your cheeks hollow when you suck it, he never says anything; not wanting you to be self conscious about eating it.

You knew, though; you knew what he was thinking when you let your lips glide over it, resting the tip of on your bottom lip while he stared intently at your mouth through the screen.

Letting you know he was going to be dropping by after work one day, you asked him to pick up a couple of the treats, since you were all out. Walking through the door, he places the stash in the freezer and turning to face you, he has one in his mouth.

Comical at first (you’ve never seen him eat something sweet; let alone a popsicle) your gaze quickly becomes heated when he joins you on the couch; his shirt unbuttoned to show the exposed, flushed skin of his chest, his hair damp at his temple, his tongue just peeking out to lick at a sweet drop of melted sugar.

Scooting close to you, he holds the treat out to you with a question and you take it; your fingers brushing over his. You put your mouth on the popsicle, right where his was and he watches for a second before sliding his hand under your tank top, pulling it down in the front to expose your breasts. His mouth still intensely cold from the treat, the sensation is shocking when he puts it on your heated skin; his tongue gliding over your pebbled nipple, his wet mouth enveloping it.

It’s a shame, the waste, when you set the popsicle down on your table and let it melt; your mouth now busy doing other things with Javier.

He’s rummaging in the kitchen when he takes your call, propping your digital image on the beaten-down coffeemaker before crouching on his hands and knees, tight jeans flush with the cool surface.

For someone who tends to think that the kitchen exists to reheat takeout and house his liquor collection (and even that’s on the bar cart in the living room), Javier empties the contents of his freezer with unrestrained vigor, thick forearms flexing with the effort. Frozen goods slap onto the unforgiving tile, encircling Javi in a mishmash of cardboard boxes and tupperware.

Finally noticing your silence, he looks up at you, eyebrow raised in a silent taunt. The vision makes you ache, almost. But not quite. A child’s demeanor peeks through those broad shoulders hunched over the white light of the freezer, locks of hair dropping kisses to his brow in a lingering caress that those fingers can’t seem to push aside. Javi’s mouth is slightly slack, lips rounding in a soft o and hovering open in concentration (and, though he will never say it, embarrassment).

He grumbles when you ask him what he’s looking for. ’S nothing, baby, he says, unceremoniously tossing the food back into the freezer. But there’s a slight frown obscuring his features as he competes the routine task and raises himself to his regular height, now staring down at you on the small screen of his phone.

Spotting your curious glance, Javi gives you lopsided smile. “You know, I was thinking,” he announces, hands on his hips, “it’s been a while since we went out. Wanna take a drive out of the city this weekend?”

“What were were you doing in your freezer?”

“I know a good taco place on the coast,” he says, raising his voice slightly to speak over you, drowning your words in his vision. “You’d love it, baby; the tacos are almost as good as mine and you can hear the waves —”

Not for the first time, you wish he was here, or you were there, in his cramped apartment. FaceTime is good, but these days it’s not enough, not when missing him is more of a habit than a conscious thought. If he was here, you’d place your hands over his on his hips, fingers brushing the bare skin where his t-shirt rides up and look up at him with wide eyes until he finally submits to your faux-interrogation. But caught between city blocks and tingling remembrances and declarations whispered into headphones, you have no power except that which he can see.

“You’re not going to get out of the question by talking about food, Javier.” The scold is genuine yet still tempered with your gentle strength — quiet, firm, the colors of your affection staining each word.

He gives you a roguish smile, one that can still set you on fire even from blocks away. “No? Shall I talk about something else, then?” Javi pauses, considering, eyes shifting to gaze at something out frame, jaw shifting in thought. “I know. How about the way you sound when you come?” He laughs at your shocked exclamation — Jesus, Javi! — and winks.

“Because, you know, I could talk about that for hours.” He lets his body mimic the dip in tone, bracing his forearms on the counter to bring his face closer to the camera. The soft cotton of his t-shirt stretch as his muscles accept the weight, and the sight makes your breath hitch.

“You always sound so beautiful, baby. I fuckin’ love the way you say my name when I’m buried deep inside of you,” he murmurs, observing as you struggle to remain composed — the crease in your brow, the press of your lips, the slightest cant of your head to the left. Eyeing the bare swath of skin between your collarbone and your tank top — if you were here, would you let him mark you? — Javi continues his assault. “Such pretty moans for me, princesa.”

Opening his mouth to continue, he pauses when you lift your hand, bringing it into the view of the camera.

“Where the fuck did you get those? They’ve been out of stock all week,” he breathes, words biting vehemently into the open air, eyes focused greedily on the frozen treat in your hand.

“I’ve had them in my freezer for ages,” you goad, licking the popsicle in an exaggerated motion.

He’s watching, now, you can tell — so you continue your show, talking care to slurp around it and let out a hum of contentment. “These ones are the best, I think. They don’t melt too quickly, they aren’t that sticky,” you muse, letting your tongue swirl absentmindedly around the tip, resolutely ignoring his gaze. “They’re not overly sweet, either — I don’t like things that are sweet. Don’t you agree, Javi?”

Finally dragging your eyes away from the popsicle and up to his, you’re startled by the sudden shift in his demeanor. No longer bright and teasing, his eyes have darkened to the color of charcoal and are trained on your lips — stained red from the food dye and slightly swollen from the chill of the frozen treat.

“Of course, amor,” he consents readily, voice husky. “That’s what I was looking for, actually.” He pauses and wets his lips, thinking. “I’ve been craving one all day,” he finally says, and there’s no doubting his sincerity — and his true meaning — at the raw hunger in his voice, the way the words melt seamlessly together with a seductive harshness.

Your lips curl in a smile, tongue poking at the corner of your mouth to lick away the excess. “Why don’t you come over, Javi?” you say. “I have a whole box in my freezer, you know. We wouldn’t even have to…oh, shit.”

A sigh escapes your mouth and you raise your hand, where Javi can see the stain of melted sugar trickling down the back of your hand and onto your fingertips. “Damnit,” you curse, before putting the sticky finger in your mouth, making sure Javi can see the way you drag your tongue against your digit. Moaning slightly as you suck away the sugar, you let your eyes flutter shut, tilting your head back against the couch cushions and causing the thin tank top to stretch over your breasts.

Opening your eyes and letting your fingers fall away from your mouth, you repress a grin at the sight of Javi nearly slack-jawed, swallowing thickly. “What I was I saying? Sorry, baby, I got distracted,” you coo.

“Don’t — fuck,” he groans, running a face of his hand in frustration. “You know what — don’t move. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” Javi leans in even closer, narrowing his eyes in focus. “And you better have a whole box, princesa,” he warns. “We’re going to need them.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @catsnkooks @littlevodika @a-seeker-of-imagination @goldenkenobi @goldafterglow @justrunamok @tastefulmisunderstanding @themarvelousbear @blancatobarxoxo @wille-zarr @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @rentskenobi @mcu-padawan @yespolkadotkitty @anakin-danvers @cri-me-a-river @huliabitch @dracos-jedi-marvel // TAGLIST FORM // SERIES MASTERLIST 

[obiwanobi]

Ok ok but Clem, hear me, I need to share my personal Obi-Wan gets out release some steam in the lower levels of Coruscant but instead of stripping or raving at club, he gets into clandestine fistfights. He just goes all fight club on who wants to get punched in the face. Once, Anakin follows him in secret and find him his nose bloody, bare torso glistening with oil like a gladiator and dozens of fans screaming his (fake) name. He whites out instantely.

THIS IS WHY I’M HERE FOR I wanted to write like 2 paragraphs but then I got really into it, so here’s Anakin going from “time to laugh at my boring old master who I’m definitely not obsessed with” to “ANYWAY denial time’s over, I need him to pin me to the ground in front of everyone immediately”:

It takes fifteen minutes after landing on Coruscant for Anakin to decide that it’s time to bother Obi-Wan. For once, it’s not a decision on a whim, despite the carefree way he announces it to Rex before leaving his troops and ship in the hangar. The Force guides him through the halls and corridors toward the warm and familiar presence of his former master, but Anakin isn’t surprised to feel him preoccupied. 

Obi-Wan has been stuck in the Temple for the past four months.

Because of some careless planning, he was unlucky enough to be on Coruscant when Yoda realised that he was the only council member not currently swamped in various missions off-world. Since it was an unspoken rule that at least a few Council members should always be at the Temple, Obi-Wan has been asked to put his missions in the field on hold, and dedicate his time to represent the Council, until more of its members come back.  

Since then, Anakin has only seen him through holotransmitters for official briefings and reports. The artificial blue lights haven’t hidden the creases between his eyebrows and the twitch of his hands when Anakin raised the topic of his time away from the front, telling him all he needed to know about how Obi-Wan felt about being stranded on Coruscant to do paperwork all day or act as the face of the Jedi Order in the Senate.

Now that he can finally see him in the flesh, it feels natural to seek out Obi-Wan, poke at his poor master and laugh at his concealed misery. There was no doubt that Obi-Wan always brilliantly plays the role of a calm and serene Jedi Master, but Anakin hasn’t spent more than ten years around him without catching on the fact that at heart, he’s still a man of actions who needs some excitement and tangible problems to solve before he grows bored.

Anakin isn’t surprised to find him in the middle of various maps, datapad in hand and pointing something on a holotable at another Jedi. What does surprise him, after a few minutes of waiting for them to be done and the Jedi to go away, is that Obi-Wan is not putting any weight on his left leg. It’s the most subtle of change, probably undetectable to anyone else but someone who has spent so much time watching the way Obi-Wan walks and moves and carries himself. But it’s there. 

“Oh, that?” Obi-Wan says almost like he hasn’t noticed, after Anakin didn’t even bother with a ‘hello’. “A knight asked me for some hand-to-hand training sessions. Since I’m to stay at the Temple for an indefinite period of time, I can at least be useful to others. He didn’t go easy on your old master, that’s for sure,” he quietly laughs, and Anakin will be annoyed at himself later for not noticing the clear bait.

But for now, it’s the perfect opportunity to make fun of him, saying that old men like him should pay more attention to their health, and “be careful Obi-Wan, you’re already part of the Council and drink your tisane before going to bed at 2200, you can’t be going around holding your back and complaining about young people or I’ll start mistaking you with Master Yoda!”

A datapad comes flying at his head and it only makes him laugh harder.

Anakin starts to become suspicious two weeks later.

He arrives in the middle of the night from an exhausting mission in the inmost depths of the mid-rim, and his feet take him directly to Obi-Wan’s quarters. it’s closer than his anyway, and he knows Obi-Wan keeps his old room just the way he left it. If he’s being honest, he should also admit that he spends half of his time there instead of his own quarters. It’s just a question of being used to it, he thinks as he lets himself fall on his old bed. And here at least, he knows he will find the bed made and a cup fo caf waiting for him in the morning. Plus, there is nothing more comforting than the feeling of slipping between fresh sheets and the smell of the familiar citrus detergent, unchanged since his childhood. He should really ask Obi-Wan which one he uses. 

When he opens the fresher’s door the next morning to brush his teeth, he barely notices that Obi-Wan is already taking a shower, complaining about sacred personal space and unruly boys who never learnt common courtesy like not leaving their muddy boots in the living room or barging in occupied freshers behind the curtain. Nothing out of the ordinary, until Obi-Wan comes out with a towel high on his hips, but not high enough to hide the large bacta patch on his back and shoulder. 

“Wha-” Anakin tries to ask between toothbrush and toothpaste, but Obi-Wan is already out of the room, and even outside their quarters with a hurried goodbye when Anakin finishes brushing his teeth. 

Anakin starts to get annoyed when he comes back from Corellia a week later and Madame Nu catches him near the entrance of the library. 

“Please come get your master,” she sighs with a hand grabbing his arm, already dragging him in with unexpected strength. “I don’t know what he’s trying to do, but this is getting ridiculous.”

The ‘not my master anymore’ is still on his tongue when she makes an exasperated sign to a corner of the library where he finds Obi-Wan seated at a table, chin on his hand and head bowed toward a screen.

Snoring. 

Anakin barely contains his giggle long enough to take a holo and send it to Ahsoka. He takes another one then, closer, focusing on the way the late afternoon sun catches his hair, his beard and his lashes, enfolding Obi-Wan in its warm golden light. Focusing on his peaceful expression. 

 He saves this one for himself. 

Reluctant to disturb him, he allows himself a few more minutes of fondness and gentle affection in front of the scene before putting his hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, and shaking it gently. The wince and sudden jerk he gets as a result surprise him, before he remembers the flash of a bacta patch in the fresher a week ago. 

“'N’kin? You’re already back?” Obi-wan mumbles, straightening himself with difficulty on his chair. 

“Yes, just arrived a few minutes ago.”

 “What are you doing in the library?” He asks in a light tone. Something cracks, and his hand makes an aborted move toward his shoulder before thinking better of it. “I thought you would only come back this far in the economy section under death threats.”

This time, Anakin doesn’t take the bait. 

“You’re still hurt. Are you going to tell me which knight beat you up and apparently kept you up all night?”

The words have barely left his mouth when he realises the double meaning of his question and there are suddenly a dozen images in his mind and- No no no, it can’t be- Obi-Wan would never... Well, he would. But not this way, not the- Hand-to-hand training? With another knight? Every time Anakin leaves for a certain period of time, when no one will notice if Anakin’s not here? Being so tired that he’s sleeping in the middle of the library? The bacta patch? To get this, that would have- Oh, that would be a sight to- NO, no, this is definitely not it, Anakin has to believe it, or he will lose his mind right there. 

“A knight?” Obi-Wan asks, apparently still too drowsy to sense Anakin’s inner meltdown. He stretches his arms, and Anakin grows even more confused when he realises that his knuckles are scraped. “What are you talking about?” 

 “The- The one you’re training?”

Something passes in Obi-Wan’s eyes and he puts his hands in his sleeves just a little too quickly to look natural. 

“Ah, yes, the knight. Yes, he- we, we’re still having sessions now and then. Good to stay in shape, you know. Now, since you’re back, what do you say about dinner? I’m paying for Dex’s takeout if you go get it.” 

Anakin doesn’t feel focused enough to harass him about his flimsy explanation or tease him about taking a nap in the library. There are way too many incriminating images in his mind he needs to get rid of first. 

The next time he comes back to the Temple after a few days trapped in negotiations with neutral planets, he doesn’t comm anyone and is careful not to let Obi-Wan knows he’s here. He sends R2 and one of his droid pal to stand close to Obi-Wan’s door, and then, he waits. No one pays attention to droids, and most people forget that they have cameras that can be turned on at any point in time, if you ask nicely. It doesn’t take long. At 2240, R2 sends an alert to his comm. He gets his robe, shields himself heavily in the Force, and starts following Obi-Wan.

Anakin really, really doesn’t expect his former master, his “remember that wherever you go, you represent the whole Jedi Order, Anakin, so act accordingly” master, to make his way to the bars and clubs district of the lower levels through hidden shortcuts, bypass cameras and security officers like he’s done it all his life, and knocks at a durasteel door full of graffitis in a language Anakin can’t read.

Definitely not meeting a Jedi knight for regular hand-to-hand training. 

Under his hood, Obi-Wan nods at the Twi’lek who opens the door for him. Anakin lets a few minutes pass before making his way to it. It takes him a heavy mind suggestion to get her to let him in, and when he walks through the door, his heart suddenly starts beating faster in anticipation of what shameful secret he’s going to find.

The thought of seeing Obi-Wan sprawled on a couch of a hidden club with a harem of girls around him crosses his mind, and it twists something he usually tries to ignore in his stomach. It’s not Obi-Wan’s style, it’s so far from everything he knows about his master, but his mind won’t stop entertaining the most insane possibilities of what he does when he’s stuck without Anakin at the Temple and bored by meaningless paperwork. He wouldn’t have imagined Obi-Wan doing anything else but meditate to release tension, but here he is, in the worst part of the whole planet. So what’s next to come?

His throat is already dry, but it’s even harder to swallow when he imagines Obi-Wan letting himself be lead to a private alcove by one of these imaginary girls.

Or boys.

Anakin suddenly thinks that there is no way he’s going to handle this whole thing well.  Whatever he will find will make the effect of betrayal, and he’s not certain why. But Anakin is also convinced that he will be restless and unable to sleep for the rest of his life if he doesn’t get answers. He needs to see, to understand, to know everything about Obi-Wan, even the things he apparently doesn’t want to share. It’s selfish and unkind to his master who has always made a point of respecting his privacy and was probably way too lenient with him during his apprenticeship. He knows that. Now that Anakin has a padawan of his own, he’s fully conscious about all the things Obi-Wan let him get away with for years. He knows. 

But there is something about him that Anakin can’t let go, will probably never be able to let go, that makes Anakin greedy. Demanding. Needy. A poor example of a Jedi that his master would be ashamed of, especially for being the source of it. 

 Anakin refuses to think about it for too long. 

The arena is a distracting surprise.

All of a sudden, he’s pushed in the middle of a crowd, unbalanced by the music, the loud cheers, the flashing lights, the Togruta yelling into a mic, the bell ringing and the thunderous applause all around. No one pays attention to him, way too engrossed in what’s happening in the centre of all this agitation, a few meters down from Anakin’s position.

Nothing could have prepared him for watching the two fighters in the centre of the arena. 

One of the men, the largest one, is face down on the red sand, clearly defeated for the night. Anakin barely notices him, because above him, rubbing his knuckles against his bloody nose before raising it in a universal sign of victory, is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Polite, well-mannered Obi-Wan, who once lectured Anakin for ten minutes because he walked on a nice carpet with his boots on, is now bare-chested in front of a rowdy crowd roaring at him- no, for him. He’s sweating, cheeks, knees and hands covered in sand and exhibiting massive bruises on his ribs and his shoulder. The wide smile on his face says enough about what he thinks about it. 

When Anakin thinks that he will never truly recover all parts of his brain from seeing Obi-Wan’s muscles gleaming with oil and sweat under the artificial lights, he realises that people are chanting his name. Well, nickname. Even with the deafening sound of his blood pumping in his ears like he’s the one fighting in the middle of the arena, Anakin can’t stop himself from scoffing. How can Obi-Wan get into illegal street fighting in the lowest levels of Coruscant and choose to call himself Ben? At least some of his boring master’s choices don’t surprise him. 

It's not the first time he's watching Obi-Wan fighting with nothing else than his fists. It was even quite common when his master was teaching him how to defend himself, when Anakin was still a young padawan. But Obi-Wan was always so proper about it. Focused on the fastest and most efficient way to get the upper hand without maiming his opponent. The picture of calm and serenity, even while throwing his padawan down on the mat to teach him an important lesson about self-defence. Rarely a strand of hair out of place.

But here? Here it's nothing like the impassive and soft-spoken Jedi Master who doesn’t even seem to sweat in the training room of the Temple. Here, it's a fascinating grin on his face, bloody knuckles in the air, adrenaline and flashing lights painting his red hair a shade too wild. It's a violent and brutal show for glory and entertainment, and it suits Obi-Wan like nothing else before.

Anakin has never wanted to be slammed down in the sand so badly in his life. 

The crowd around him suddenly goes quiet, and it takes Anakin a second to realise it’s because Obi-Wan asked for it with a simple hand raised. There is something fascinating in watching all these strangers obeying him so promptly, eagerly waiting for a word from him, when Anakin can still remember all the times he cut Obi-Wan off in one of his tedious lectures. 

The whole arena holds its breath, and Obi-Wan takes a few seconds to enjoy it. 

“Next!” He finally yells, and the crowd yells back in delight. 

Anakin needs to gather his thoughts. Or what's left of them anyway. Unfortunately, Obi-Wan dodging the punches of his new opponent with a flourish, parrying and making an acrobatic show of throwing him over his shoulders on the ground just for the crowd’s enjoyment is more than distracting. Despite the blood on his face, the bruises, the dishevelled hair and the sand sticking to his torso because of the sweat, Obi-Wan hasn’t looked this carefree since the beginning of the war, and Anakin can’t look away. 

 He can’t decide if he’s content to simply be mesmerized by the whole thing, thrilled to be able to admire Obi-Wan being this bold, almost smug, from far away, where his clear feeling of want doesn’t have to be ignored right away, or angry at him for putting himself in danger for no reason when he’s taking enough risks as it is fighting a war. For once, Anakin is tempted to be the voice of reason for the two of them.

It doesn’t last long.

A minute after the commentator enthusiastically yells into her mic Ben’s victory, a bell still ringing in celebration, Anakin has already made his way to a little booth away from the show, where a bored Kiffar asks him what he wants. Anakin licks his lips, and can’t help feeling like he’s a young padawan again, giddy with excitement and vibrating with anticipation. 

“How much to join?” he asks, but doesn’t let him time to answer before adding, pointing to the arena, “How much to fight him?” 

[justauthoring]

Half in Half (1/15)

Prompt: One half light, the other dark. Divided by your differences, your brother went from your other half to the man who killed your father. You once refused to lose hope, refused to let Ben go. With walls built around yourself, can Poe break them down?

Based off of: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy.

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader

Other parts: Force Awakens: one - two - three - four - five Last Jedi: one - two - three - four - five Rise of Skywalker: one - two - three - four - five

Send me a little comment in the ask section or leave it below on what you thought of this chapter. As usual, I hope you all enjoyed!

Please don’t plagiarize my work!

The first thing you see is his eyes.

His cold, cold eyes. The ones that replaced the warm gaze of your brother. The eyes that seemed just so different, so gone, so... lost that it was nothing more than a figment of what they had been.

Your body tenses. You’re entire self freezing upon the sight. Terror courses your veins, seizing your muscles and body; making it that you can’t move. You couldn’t run even if you wanted to. Oddly, and it seems so strange, your mind screams at you to run -- to get as far away from him as possible. But the idea is unfathomable to you.

This is your brother. Your twin brother.

Surely, he would never hurt you. Surely, there’s no reason to be afraid.

...Right?

“Ben...”

His lips quiver, his body jerking and instantly, you bite your lip, stopping yourself from saying anything more. You don’t dare to. Because if it isn’t his jerky movements, the emotionless look upon his face or the rage that won’t leave his eyes, something just tells you this isn’t the moment to speak. Like a whispered, repeating mantra in your mind. That you should just stay quiet or something will happen.

That if you speak, if you try to find answers, quell your confusion, anything; it’ll end in your death.

But that’s just ridiculous... right?

Your brother wouldn’t kill you. He’s family. He’s blood. He’s your other half. There wasn’t a moment in the day that the two of you weren’t by each others side, connected at the hips because you could barely function without one another by your sides. It seemed extreme, but it was true. There was never a time in your life that Ben hadn’t been there.

And there never would be.

His light-saber illuminates the darkness. It’s the only thing that allows you to properly see his face. Without it, you would’ve been succumbed to the dark. With it, all you can see is his eyes.

His eyes...

The soft hum of the saber fills the silence, but you still find yourself unsettled at the lack of sound. Or maybe, you’re unsettled because of the hum. Because of the dangerous weapon held inches from your own face. Of the uncertainty at which Ben holds it with. Your hand twitches, as if to move -- towards what? You don’t know. Part of you wants to grab your own light-saber, for protection. However the idea seems all too silly. You don’t need to protect yourself, not from your brother. If anything, he’ll protect you. Just like he always has.

Just like he always will.

Yet, the itch never goes away.

Ben doesn’t say anything. His lips quiver, move every once in a while as if he wants to speak but can’t find the words to say. He wants to say something. That much you can tell. You couldn’t possibly figure what; the whole situation is so intensely confusing to you. Nothing is making any sense.

How were you here? How did you get here?

Why did here feel so familiar?

It almost feels like you’ve been here before. This exact place, this exact moment -- all the same. Like a memory. But you don’t ever remember living through a moment like this. Nothing seems familiar in that aspect and when you think of it like that. And you’re just so confused, your mind feels as if it’s been torn apart; in pieces and nothing is connecting like it should.

Your eyes flicker, moving from Ben’s own (unable to bare the look in his eyes anymore) and glance around, determined to find out where you are. You’re on a bed you realize, not having noticed the thin but comfortable enough mattress beneath you. You’re in a small hut, there’s a slight chill to the air making goosebumps grow and prickle across your skin. 

Everything seems too familiar. You’re sure now, wherever you are; you’ve been here before.

And then it hits.

You’re on Yavin 4. In Uncle Luke’s Temple. Where he had trained you...

But... why are you back here? How are you...--

Ben moves, the edge of his light-saber inches from your face. You can feel the heat of it reflect back onto the skin of your cheek. A shiver crawls down the back of your spine and suddenly the terror in your gaze intensifies as you glance back up to meet Ben’s eyes.

All you see his hatred. Anger. Betrayal.

There’s not an inch of him left in there. Ben is unrecognizable. Your brother is... gone.

This is the night. That night...

“Ben.” You don’t even recognize, not until it echoes back in your mind, that your voice cracks. All but breaks apart on you as your voice comes out in nothing more than a pathetic plea. You finally gain the courage to move, raising your arm and shielding it before yourself desperately as you glance past the cracks to meet your brothers eyes.

The eyes that won’t leave your mind.

“Please,” you cry, your eyes watering with distress, hurt, plea and everything in between. The idea almost seems impossible. Your own brother about to murder you.

Your own twin about to murder you.

“Please don’t do this...”

His silence only makes it worse. His absolute refusal to respond to anything. To not even speak to you. Even if his words wouldn’t have been words of reassurance -- you know that for a fact -- for him to not even say anything; to have no explanation as to why. As to why he’s doing this. As to why he wants to kill you...

It’s almost worst.

There’s a second longer of silence. Of just nothing. You can both hear and feel your heart pound erratically against your chest. You can feel yourself shake and this time not because of the cold; because you’re afraid. More than you ever have been.

More than you ever will be.

If you even live.

Where’s Luke? Where’s your Uncle? All the other Jedi...? Why isn’t anyone coming to help you?

Where’s your brother?

What had happened to make him this way...

And then, time slows. You meet Ben’s eyes, one last time, the last thing you see and think before everything turns dark is that your brother is gone. That there’s no trace of him left in the eyes that stare back at your own.

There’s a cry, the heat of his saber leaves for only a moment before your lips part in a blood-curling scream--

“--Ben!”

Blinking, you inhale sharply. You feel out of breath, your skin feels clammy. Your eyes without thought, without any real control, rapidly flicker around yourself, trying to assess where you are. The familiar setting, one that you distinctly remember, settles you. Eases you just enough that you manage to catch your breath, placing a hand against your chest.

You’re in the freighter. You’re safe.

Well, as safe as you can be in here. But, still. Safe enough. Safer then you had been... Thought you had been.

Sinking back against the seat you’d been settled in, you let out a huff. A dream-- nightmare, that’s all it’d been. Nothing more than a nightmare...

Though, there had been some truth to it...

Brushing back your hair, you place both hands against your warm cheeks, attempting to gather yourself. Your heart is still pounding madly against your chest, and you’re clearly still shaken if the unsettling feeling deep within your stomach is anything to go by. You can’t really calm down but you’re less frazzled then you had been moments ago.

And you’re definitely less... afraid then you had been.

You let your eyes fall shut. Just for a moment -- just to gather yourself. But almost instantly they flicker back open, a gasp leaving your lips.

Those eyes...

Ben’s eyes--

“We did it!”

Jumping from the sudden voice, your head instantly snaps up, catching sight of your father all but bursting into the room. The door nearly falls off it’s own hinges with the excitement behind his movements. The scare dwells off and you just roll your eyes at your father, slumping slightly at the loud bang the door makes as it hits the opposing wall.

“Hello to you too, dad.”

“We--” Pausing a moment, your father comes to a stop in front of you, sending you a sheepish smile. “Sorry,” he says simply, “were you sleeping?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, pushing yourself up to your feet, tucking your hair behind your ear. “But it’s fine. Don’t worry ‘bout it. You just scared me a little that’s all.”

The excitement in Han’s eyes dwindles somewhat once he gets a good look at you. Despite your best efforts to try to look somewhat okay, he is your father and he can easily tell something is wrong. Plus, if the sickly colour to your skin, the twitching of your fingers and the fear in your eyes is anything to go off. A frown of worry mares his lips as his brows furrow; “everything alright?”

“Fine,” you brush off.

Han just quirks a brow, telltale sign that he doesn’t believe any word of your bullshit.

“I’m fine, dad,” you grumble, rolling your eyes at him. Crossing your arms over your chest, you shake your head. “Seriously.” Your tone says to drop it. Han knows better then to argue -- your mother often used the same tone. “Now, you came bursting in here all excited; what’s up?”

There’s a moment of hesitation. Han clearly wants to push the subject but he knows you too well, you’re stubborn; like him. So he drops it. Letting his wide smile grace his features once more as he beams up at you. 

“We found the Millennium Falcon.”

-

“Chewie... We’re home.”

“Aweh, that’s so sweet. Almost makes me wanna cry.”

Pausing, your father glances back at you. You simply smirk back at him.

“Funny.”

“I thought so.” Chuckling quietly to yourself, you smile at the grin Chewie sends you before following further into the Millennium Falcon behind Han. As your father goes to a few control panels and Chewie walks forward, both clearly focused, you simply let your gaze wander, blaster falling by your side limply.

You’ve never seen the Millennium Falcon in person. Only ever heard of it in one of your father’s many stories. Honestly, he went on and on about this ship you sometimes wondered if he loved it more then you.

You wouldn’t doubt it.

Not to mention, you’ve spent most of your time with your father trying to help him find his precious ship. So, to actually be able to stand in and see it with your own eyes... it’s kinda nice.

A sudden thud pulls your attention from your own wondering mind. Turning in the direction of the sound, you briefly glance at both your father and Chewie before the latter steps forward, pulling a gate up off from the floor as Han steps forward with his blaster raised. Your eyes widen when beneath the gated door rests a boy, a girl and a droid.

Peering over your father, you grin; “fancy meeting you two here.”

Rolling his eyes, Han simply ignores you. “Where are the others?” He asks the two, voice gruff. “Where’s the pilot?”

“I’m the pilot,” the girl says quickly. A little too quickly. But you can tell by her stance she’s clearly afraid. 

So would you -- if there was a blaster pointed at your face.

“You?”

Chewie roars loudly, causing you to nod.

It was a little questioning.

“No, it’s true,” the girl continues, voice desperate. “We’re the only ones on board.”

“You can understand that thing?”

“Hey!” You call out to the boy, setting your eyes on him as you glare down at him harshly. “That thing can understand you. And his name is Chewie.” Chewie lets out a roar. “You’re welcome, Chewie.”

“Come on out of there,” Han orders sharply.

The two are quick to listen.

Walking past the two, you crouch down in front of the drop, smiling down. “Well hello there, little buddy. What’s your name?”

The droid happily beeps in response. 

Letting out a giggle, you nod your head, beaming down at him. “Nice to meet you too, BB-8.”

“Where’d you get this ship?” 

Turninh your head over your shoulder at your fathers words, you send one last bright smile BB-8′s way before standing up, falling next to your father as you gaze at the two curiously.

“Niima Outpost.”

Han visibly jerks his head back; “Jakku? That junkyard?”

“Thank you!” The boy calls out, turning to his friend; “told you.”

“Told you we should have double’checked the Western Reaches,” Han sighs, turning to Chewie.

“Actually,” you call out, pulling all eyes on you. “I believe that was me.”

Han simply ignores you. “Who had it?” He turns back to the two, “Ducain?”

“I stole it. From Unkar Plutt. He stole it from the Irving Boys, who stole it from Ducain.”

“Who stole it from me!” Your father calls out sharply, shuffling back on his feet. “Well, you tell him that Han Solo just stole back the Millennium Falcon for good.”

You watch as the girls eyes visibly brighten, following quickly after your father. “This is the Millennium Falcon? You’re Han Solo?”

“I used to be.”

Rolling your eyes, you step forward, moving so you can properly meet the girls eyes. “He is,” you correct, smiling at her.

“Han Solo,” the boy speaks, “the Rebellion General?”

You can’t help it. You snort.

“No, the smuggler.”

You snort again. This was just too good.

The boy turns to Chewie and you, “wasn’t he a war hero?”

You shrug along with Chewie.

“This is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?”

“Twelve!” Han calls from the piloting deck.

“Don’t mind him,” you sigh, smiling brightly at the two of them. Honestly, you find their child-like fascination kind of endearing. Spending all of your time with a cranky old man and Chewie (you, of course, have nothing bad to say about Chewie) makes you forget about how wonderful people can be sometimes. Even with the simplest of things.

“My fathers just reliving his glory days.”

“I heard that!”

“See?”

The girl turns to you, wide-eyed; “you’re his daughter?”

“Yup,” you nod, extending your hand out towards her. “Y/N Solo. And you?”

“Rey,” she eagerly replies, shaking your hand firmly. You blink slightly at the action, meeting Chewie’s eyes briefly and sharing the same look, before turning to the boy.

“And you?’

He squares his shoulders, attempting to appear more... tough? maybe. You’re not sure.

“Finn.”

“Nice to meet you two.”

“Hey!” Your father calls, pulling all eyes on him as he rejoins the group. “Some moof-milker put a compressor on the ignition line.”

“Unkar Pitt did,” Rey quickly explains, “I thought it was a mistake, too. Puts too much...--”

“--stress on the hyperdrive.”

Quirking a brow, you turn to Rey, impressed. Han shares a similar look; just a for a moment. It passes quickly. “Chewie. Throw them in a pod. We’ll drop them in the nearest inhabited planet.”

Chewie growls, nodding.

“Wait!” The girl calls, chasing after your father quickly. “No. We need your help.”

“My help?”

“He doesn’t like to help out a lot,” you shrug, nodding with Chewie, smirking.

“This droid has to get to the Resistance base...” Your smile and smirk quickly fades however when you properly register Rey’s words. Shoulders falling, you swallow thickly. “As soon as possible.”

Furrowing your brows, you shake your head; “why?

“He’s carrying a map to Luke Skywalker.” Finn adds.

Oh...

You frown, glancing at your fathers back as he freezes. 

“You are the Han Solo that fought with the Rebellion.” At Finn’s words, Han slowly turns around, inhaling sharply. “You knew him.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “I knew him. I knew Luke.”

There’s an echo of silence before the moment is interrupted by a dull thud above your heads.

Eyes widening, you turn to your father, confused whose eyes widen, panic flooding them.

“Don’t tell me a Rathtar’s gotten loose.”

-

I know it’s cut off a little awkwardly. But I didn’t want the first part to be super long as every part after this one will pretty much be over three thousand words (probably over four thousand). 

This also helps sort of settle us in, I guess. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoyed the first part. The beginning won’t have much Poe, but I promise you!! In due time it’ll all be worth it!

Please let me know what you thought.

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[obwjam]

the tiniest jedi: the hidden enemy, part 2

a/n: part two is here!!! i completely lost my focus in the middle of this but i finally was able to crank it out lmao this was originally going to be three parts but it’s gonna be four now or else this chapter would be like 8k words and uhh no thank u sir

>> part one

——————-

Rex had never felt this awkward in his short life. He did trust General Skywalker. He was programmed to follow orders. And despite the shock of seeing someone so small, he believed that the Jedi wouldn’t send someone to the front who wasn’t fully capable of handling themselves.

And yet, doubt nagged at the back of his mind. It didn’t really compute how someone so tiny could fight like Anakin. Or Obi-Wan. Or… any Jedi, really.

But above all, Rex had a duty to lead his men. If this General Nor’al was their commanding officer for the day, then he was going to respect it. Even if the rest of the 501st griped about it, he knew they would ultimately fall in line and do their duty.

He just hoped he wouldn’t have to bring back any bad news.

Briefing his ARC troopers went about as well as he expected it to. They were a little confused at first, wondering why Rex was pinching his fingers in such a way when he described the new general, and there were skeptical faces when he went over the plan.

“So you two will be on standby here and here, laying down cover fire while I get her as close to the tank as possible,” Rex explained. “At my word, we rendezvous here and Hawk will pick us up with the gunship.”

“Sounds like a good plan,” said one trooper. “But the catch is…”

“...she’s about as tall as a kriffing Zilkin,” another finished.

Rex cleared his throat, snapping his men back to attention. “Look, I know it’s a bit of a… strange situation. But General Skywalker is counting on us to make this work, and the information we get from that droid will save countless lives. It’s important that we execute this plan flawlessly.”

As Rex went to meet Obi-Wan and Jayla, he could only wonder how Cody was handling it all. Even though he wouldn’t be part of the stealth mission, he was no doubt aware that this tiny Jedi existed. Well, if Cody can look past the obvious, Rex thought, then I can too.

“Well, that went better than I was expecting.”

Jayla rolled her eyes at Obi-Wan’s comment as she stretched out on a small section of the table in a break room. Cody was leaning against the corner of the wall, helmet off. Obi-Wan insisted he be there while they wait.

“Are you kidding? That might have been the most awkward interaction I’ve ever had in my life,” Jayla sighed. “That’s saying a lot, you know.”

“Aw, cut him some slack,” Cody shrugged. “He was caught off-guard.”

Obi-Wan cracked a smile. “We owe that one to Anakin.”

“As much as I love blaming him, you did the exact same thing when I first met Cody,” Jayla tutted, standing up. “Remember that, Cody? It wasn’t that weird, was it?”

Cody snickered. In his mind, it was that weird, but he wasn’t going to admit it. It was sometime after the Battle of Geonosis, he couldn’t quite remember when. He didn’t participate, but he could feel the pain in the quavers of his brothers’ voices whenever they discussed it in passing.

It was strange that Obi-Wan wanted to meet him outside of the battlefield, and even stranger that their meeting place was the Jedi temple. Did he want to discuss battle strategy? Expectations? Requirements? He wasn’t made for small talk.

He glanced nervously around the halls as he knocked on a door he hoped was the right one. He could hear mumbling.

“Do come in,” a prim voice called out from the other side. Oh great. He’s one of these Jedi.

Cody walked in cautiously, unsure of who and what to expect. Obi-Wan was sitting cross-legged on a pillow with his back to the door. There was a knee-high table in front of him with two cups on either side. Obi-Wan was talking, too softly to make out, and presumably, to himself. Cody raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, sir, if this is a bad time…” he stared, but Obi-Wan held his hand up.

“Not at all. I should have warned you that we might have a guest.”

Cody was about to open his mouth when he caught something in the corner of his eye. Something was moving on the table.

Cody’s hand flew to his blaster and he cocked it up in seconds. “Sir, don’t move. There’s something--”

“Commander!” Obi-Wan huffed as he stood swiftly. Cody’s eager eyes darted from Obi-Wan to the table, where… where a very, very small person was standing being a cup, wielding a lightsaber. Looking like a deer in headlights, Cody lowered his blaster.

“Sir--” Cody started, taking a step forward. He stopped when he saw the tiny figure flinch.

“Jay, it’s alright,” Obi-Wan said softly, taking a knee beside the table. “I asked him here.”

“That’s one of the clones?” the tiny girl asked warily, glancing up at Cody, whose face was bright red.

“This is Commander Cody, my new second-in-command,” Obi-Wan stated. “He’ll be leading the 212th Attack Battalion.”

“Oh.” She put away her lightsaber as Cody put his blaster back in its holster. “I-I’m Jayla Nor’al. I’m Master Yoda’s padawan.” She took a few shaky steps from behind the cup. “I’m sorry for the scare.”

Cody blinked. “It--it’s alright. Sorry about the blaster.”

Obi-Wan smiled. “Well, now that that’s all out of the way. Why don’t you take a seat, Commander. I hope you like tea.”

Cody smirked at the memory. “You Jedi sure have a thing for surprises,” he said cheekily. “Just give Rex some time. He’s a good soldier. He’ll get over it quickly.”

“I just hope he trusts me out there,” Jayla mumbled.

“Oh, I have no doubt he will,” Obi-Wan reassured. “The question is, will you trust him?”

Jayla’s eyes fell to the table. She hated the way Obi-Wan seemed to read her mind at the most inopportune times.

She didn’t get a lot of time to dwell on it as the door whooshed open and Rex cantered in. He first noticed Cody before his eyes fell right to Jayla. I should probably stop staring now.

“Captain,” Obi-Wan smiled as Rex removed his helmet. “Thank you for joining us.”

“Of course, sir,” Rex said stiffly. Seeing him with his helmet off, Jayla wasn’t sure what to make of him. If they were all, well, clones… why did this one look so different? Maybe it was the blond hair, or how worn down he looked. Or maybe it was the slight wideness of the eyes and the small pursing of his lips.

“I thought it would be beneficial for us to go over the plan once more in a quieter space,” Obi-Wan started. Rex, who was deliberately staring at the wall ahead of him to avoid looking down, broke his concentration when he could feel the heat of Obi-Wan’s gaze on him. “Captain, do you have a map of the terrain?”

“Yes sir,” Rex said, pulling the holoprojector from his belt. Without thinking, he set it down on the table. His eyes flashed down in concern, but Jayla calmly took a few steps back and found her way to Obi-Wan’s hand again.

“Well, the tac droid will be in this tank here,” Rex pointed. “It’s always the most heavily guarded, but we suspect they’ll be more clankers around it than usual.”

“My battalion and the rest of the attack squad will be over here, pushing through on the main road to the city,” Cody said as the map widened. “They’ll be hundreds of us. The chance of them noticing a few men splitting off is low.”

“General Nor’al, you’ll be with me,” Rex said. “I, uh, I don’t know exactly where you’d like to, uh, ride… but once you finish getting the information we need, meet me at the extraction point here. Hawk will come down with a gunship and we’ll be on our way.”

Jayla cleared her throat as Obi-Wan handed her a comically large piece of tech. “When I get in, I have to disable the tac droid first or else it’s gonna be impossible to do anything. Its weakness is in its neck, so as long as it’s engaged, I’ll be able to scale it without it noticing.” She heaved up the piece of tech, which was about the size of a rotary blaster to her. These were the moments that Obi-Wan tried hard not to smile and Jayla tried hard not to get flustered. “I’m going to plug into the droid at the base of its head. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes for the download. I’ll cut a hole out the back of the tank and meet you for extraction,” she finished, glancing up at Rex. His face was stoic.

“Well, I think we’ve got a good grasp on this,” Obi-Wan said with a smirk. “Must be a nice change of pace for you, Captain. You hardly ever get the chance to follow a plan.”

“Whatever I need to do, General,” Rex replied. He jumped a little when Cody appeared next to him and put his hand on his shoulder.

“If you don’t mind, Generals, we’ll head down to the hangar for our equipment check,” Cody said. Obi-Wan nodded.

“Thank you, sirs,” Rex said, his gaze lingering on Jayla for a few extra seconds. Rex didn’t need the powers of the Force to know they were both thinking the same thing about each other. The signs of apprehension were universal. But for him, at least, the moment he stepped onto the battlefield was the moment his mind went blank and he was only concerned with achieving one goal. If she had the respect of both Kenobi and Skywalker, then what was the source of his unease? Why couldn’t he stop thinking about her, staring at her, worrying about her?

He was glad Cody got him out of there.

“So,” Obi-Wan said when the two clones left. “Where are you going to ride?”

“I was really trying not to think about that,” Jayla groaned. “You know, you didn’t have to bring him in to go over the plan again. I’m the one who came up with it.”

“You can never be too prepared.”

Jayla took a shaky breath. “And do I really have to go on the gunship with everyone? I don’t want anyone to stare.”

“How else are you planning on getting down to the planet’s surface? A free fall?”

“I think I’d rather,” she mumbled. “Well, do I have to--”

“--you can stay with me until we reach the ground,” Obi-Wan assured, his face softening. “It’s alright.”

Jayla released a breath she had been holding and plopped down, leaning against the curl of Obi-Wan’s fingers.

“Rex is one of the finest,” he said in a hushed voice. “He’ll take good care of you out there.”

“I’m not the one who needs taking care of,” she snapped. “I’m fine.”

“I can sense your worry.”

Jayla sighed. There really was no fooling Obi-Wan. “I just… I don’t want to mess up. I don’t want to… I want to make sure everyone gets back alright, you know? This is my mission. I’m responsible.”

Obi-Wan furrowed his brow. He figured the completion of the mission would have been her main focus. Gently, he raised the index finger on his free hand and stroked Jayla’s back. She flinched at his touch, but quickly melted into it. “As a Jedi, you are more than capable. As a leader, there are few who can inspire people like you do.” He paused to let her smile. “There are things in war you can’t control. Casualties are one of them. The men you lead in battle today will not be the same as the ones tomorrow.”

Jayla couldn’t find anything to say.

“You’ve gone over this one plan more times in the last thirty minutes than Anakin has with any plan his whole life.” That one earned a full laugh from her. “And when things inevitably go wrong, you will adapt. You are ready for this.”

Jayla looked up and met Obi-Wan’s clear blue eyes. In them, she only saw admiration. In him, she only felt confidence. She cracked a small smile, sat up and folded her legs criss-cross. She closed her eyes. The Force pulsed excitedly around her.

She was ready.

—-

“How’d’you know her so well, anyway?”

Rex and Cody were just about at the hangar bay, and Rex was eager to know why she seemed to trust being around Cody but shied away from him.

“General Kenobi does a lot of negotiating in addition to his fighting,” Cody laughed. “She’s with him quite a lot on those trips. I imagine it’s deliberate on his part. Gets her used to being around clones and all that.”

“Well, that explains why I’ve never met her before,” Rex snickered. “General Skywalker never negotiates.”

Cody smirked. “But I wouldn’t say I know her well. She… doesn’t take to people very easily. Still has never let me take her anywhere, despite my plentiful offers. I’ve only ever seen her with Kenobi or Skywalker.”

“Must be a Jedi thing,” Rex snorted. Of course she has a thing against clones.

“Well, if the Jedi are all she’s ever known, I can’t say I blame her,” Cody countered. He could easily see Rex’s irritation in the form of his clenched fists. “The galaxy is not built for people her size. Especially a galaxy at war.”

Rex hummed. He had… never really thought of it that way. “Have you seen her in action before?”

“A few times, when negotiations went south. She moves quicker than anyone I’ve ever seen, that’s for sure. And if she gets scared, she doesn’t show it. I don’t think I’d be able to do what she does if everyone towered over me like a kriffing building.”

Rex pursed his lips, trying to visualize for the first time what it might look like if his brothers stood a hundred feet taller than him. He shivered at the thought.

“Rex? You alright, vod?”

Cody had stopped walking. They were at the hangar. Red swallowed.

“I’m… I guess I’m just surprised someone so small could be such a powerful Jedi.”

“Trust me,” Cody said, slipping his helmet on, “you’re not the only one.”

Rex humphed as he followed suit, joining his small group of ARCs near the larger 501st. Close by were Obi-Wan and Anakin, chatting amongst themselves. He almost didn’t notice Jayla on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, legs swinging as she laughed at something Anakin said. Well, she certainly looks happier.

“Just hang on tight, and you’ll have nothing to worry about!” Anakin said as they climbed into the gunship.

“There’s a reason I’m trusting Obi-Wan instead of you here,” Jayla snipped, regaining her balance as Obi-Wan reached his arm up to grab a handle. “He wouldn’t jerk his shoulder really hard to make sure I was secure enough.”

“Are you telling me he’s not preparing you properly? That’s interesting.”

“Tell me why they stuck me on this mission with both of you,” Obi-Wan groaned, pinching the brim of his nose.

Jayla grinned. “Maybe it’s punishment.”

“No crime is worth this.”

Rex sniffed a laugh under his helmet. She’s just like a mini Anakin.

With a ferocious whoosh, the gunship doors sealed shut and the engine fired up. As quickly as the jokes had come before, any semblance of lightheartedness was gone now. Jayla tightened her grip on Obi-Wan’s robe, Obi-Wan cupped his free hand in front of her, and Anakin stood alert, keeping a close eye on their surroundings.

Rex couldn’t keep his eyes off her, either. When the gunship lurched forward as it took to the air, even he could see how white her knuckles were. She kept her eyes trained on a single stationary item in front of her, trying to stay steady and ignore the small glances she was getting from the 15 other clones packed inside. She stayed fairly still through it all, but every jerk of the ship as it picked up speed and entered the atmosphere caused her face to contort into a sick grimace. Rex could only imagine how many of his other daily experiences were like a nightmare to her.

Jayla could feel Rex’s gaze on her. Something about that was comforting as they rumbled toward the surface. Even over the wind, she could hear the sharp pitch of blaster fire. There was a lot of it.

Her stomach keeled when the gunship made its slow descent to the ground. It was time.

“Jayla?” Obi-Wan spoke as soft as he possibly could over the noise. “I’m going to give you over to Rex now. Are you ready?”

Jayla could only nod as Obi-Wan moved his hand in front of her and she stepped on. She wobbled when Obi-Wan took a few steps forward to meet Rex, who was trying not to seem so flustered. Anakin’s hand was resting on his lightsaber.

Obi-Wan made the split-second decision to place her on Rex’s shoulder pauldron. There wasn’t a whole lot to grab onto, so a wide surface would make it easier for her to stay steady. He knew she wasn’t going to like being in Rex’s hand, and he could sense Rex’s unease with that possibility.

With a little bit of hesitation, she leaped off Obi-Wan’s hand and onto the pauldron, taking note of how it felt like walking on a training mat instead of the hard plastoid she assumed it was. Rex turned his head as best he could not only to make sure she was secure, but to get a better look at her. It was hard to see what she looked like from so far away, but she was mere inches from him now. He didn’t really know what he was expecting, but he was still surprised to see she looked… human. Her long hair was pulled into a loop, like a ponytail but the end was tucked back into its elastic. Her ears were slightly pointed, but almost by a negligible amount. With the sleeve of her tunic blowing around in the wind, he could barely see the tiny markings of a tattoo on her wrist. She was definitely fit to fight — her arms were toned and her face looked battle-hardened. Well, save for the way her wide eyes seemed to tremble as she stared at the ground from her new vantage point.

“Are you okay, General?”

General. It took a moment for Jayla to realize Rex was addressing her.

“Hm—yeah— yeah, I’m good,” she said, staggering her legs for better balance. There was absolutely nothing to grab onto. If all else failed, there was always the ammo box pinned to his chest. “Just—try not to make any sudden movements. Or lean forward. Or fall.”

“Can’t make any promises, General,” Rex replied, dead serious. He splayed his fingers and held his palm out flat. “You sure you don’t want to—“

“I’m fine here, Captain,” she grumbled. “Let’s get going.”

She wasn’t sure what to expect when the doors to the gunship opened, but never in a thousand years could she have been prepared for it.

The towering buildings of Christophsis merely faded into the background for her; like mountains too far off in the distance to properly understand their size. The whole planet had a green hue to it, but the air was thick with red and blue blaster bolts whizzing by in either direction. Jayla could barely get a sense of where she was by eyesight alone. When she finally snapped out of her entranced state, she shut her eyes and let the Force tell her what she needed to know. Droids to her left. Hundreds of them. Thousands. Battle droids, destroyers, super battle droids. All arranged in an impossibly precise formation. To her right, the GAR. Hundreds of clones with heavy breath and piercing shouts in organized chaos. Every few seconds, she felt a sharp pain, like the poke of a needle on her back. Someone got shot. Someone got back up. Someone didn’t.

Through it all, Jayla was still able to hear Anakin's upbeat voice. “Good luck out there, General!”

Jayla managed a laugh, watching with a small smile as Anakin and Obi-Wan ignited their sabers and jumped head-on into the oncoming fire. Rex hopped out of the gunship with two other troopers with the same swooping shoulder pauldrons. Jayla immediately fell to one knee and threw her hand down for extra support as Rex charged forward, finding shelter behind what appeared to be a large piece of metal.

He turned to his troopers and pointed across the way, where there was an elevated structure along the main road. “Positions!” The two ARCs nodded and sprinted over. “That’ll be a good place to lay down some cover,” Rex said to himself as he flipped down his HUD.

“There.” He pointed to a row of tanks several hundred yards away. “The tac droid’s in the middle one.”

Jayla nodded, forgetting that Rex couldn’t see her. She quickly began carving out the best path to get them there safely, which unfortunately required a lot of places where they would be fully exposed.

“I hope those guys are a good shot,” she called out. “Or else we’re toast.”

“There are a lot of clankers out there... stay low and hold on tight, sir,” Rex said, giving her a moment to adjust her position. He flinched at the sudden sound of a small whoosh. Her lightsaber.

“Let’s go, Rex.”

[emotionallyandphysicallydone]

Living In Darkness Chapter 1- Books

**Word count: **1360

**Warnings: **None so fair ;-)

Authors Note:

I really hope that you liked this is the first fanfic i have written since middle school, so, I am sorry if it isn’t good. I am gonna get better as the parts go on.

------------------------------------

“Ani? Where are you?”

“Y/N, use my voice to find me. What if I am not here to help you?”

…..

beep beep beep

“BD-2 I am awake now thank you.” I say to the small research droid jumping up and down on my bed. Although I can not see what time it is, I am sure that BeeDee woke me up at the correct time, confirming my suspicions. I hear a knock at my door.

“Padawan it is time to arise.” My master, Master Tahl, spoke through my door.

“Thank you master, I think I finally got BeeDee to calibrate correctly, he woke me up just moments before you arrived.” I stated as I called my robe to me and fastened it to my body. I walked over to the door to greet my master.

“That is great Padawan, now that you have him understanding the difference between am and pm, do you want to get him to start waking you up earlier so I don’t have to?” I felt bad at my master's words, I really hate that I am being a nuisance to her. Ever since I was brought to the temple everyone treated me like I was a piece of glass that would break if it got bumped.

It was the worst when I first came here because I didn’t have the temple memorized and in result I ran into everything, and everyone. While I was a youngling I was never alone there was always another person with me. Whether it was an adult, a droid, a Padawan, or another youngling. When the council told me I would be a Padawan under Master Tahl I was overjoyed, because she told me that she would not treat me like a piece of glass like everyone else would. Over the years she taught me how to see with the force. Even with the ever changing temple with people moving in and out. I haven’t ran into anyone, only when I wasn’t focusing on not running into others.

“Ok Padawan, today we need to find a piece of information that the logs say are in one spot but no one can find. Master Windu has requested we look. Let’s try and get this done as soon as possible and then we can start on your saber training.” I could tell from her voice that she was not happy that her plans for today were changed.

“Yes master, what is it about? Maybe someone thought it belonged in the wrong sector?” 

“I believe it is on soul bonds and how they react with kyber crystals. I will look in the archives, you look on the floor.” 

“Yes master.” And with that we split up to look.

Three hours later I had gone through every shelf on the ground floor to no avail, so I decided to go up to the second level and start in the section about soul bonds in the force. At this point there was no one else but my master in the archives that i could sense, so I let my guard down and just focused on finding that stupid book. 

Why would that book mean so much? It's literally about soul bonds and kyber crystals. We have entire sections dedicated to each of them. While in my ranting I was not paying attention and bumped in to someone hard. Keeping my head down and using my hands I felt their face, this wasn’t an unusual act form me. It was something I would always do, it let me see them. As I ran my hands up his chest, I took note of how strong their chest is; it's clearly a man. My hands run up their neck and to his lips, to his cheeks, his nose, and finally to his eyes. I knew from the moment I touched his lips on who it was but the scar over his right eye solidified it.

“Anakin?”

“I have no clue why, but it still amazes me that you can tell it’s me by my face.” he said with a small chuckle. “What are you looking for? Can I help?”

I giggle “I will never tell you my secrets, but I am helping my master find a book for Master Windu. Something about kyber crystals.” While moving my hands away from his face he grabbed my wrist and put them back on his face. “You know if anyone were to see us we would both be in trouble.”

“No we wouldn't, they would just think you were figuring out who I am.” his voice sounds like he is smirking, and his facial features moved to support my assumption. 

“While that may be true I don’t have much more time to find that book.” pulling away from his hands and moving to feel out for the book in question.

“I do think it is a little ridiculous that the council has the two Jedi’s that can’t see, look for a book.” His voice is following me now, “I mean couldn’t they just ask anyone else?”

“They had, Master Tahl and I are the only two who have a chance to find it, wherever it is it’s not in a visible place since neither Master Tahl or I can see we can sense things that are hidden from view. Things that one relying only on sight would overlook, now will you be willing to lift me up? I think i found it.” While explaining why I was looking for the book I felt the presence of something that wasn’t supposed to be there. What most may find surprising is that the hand written texts in the Jedi Archives have a force signature themselves. Something about being in a place that is flowing with the force, such as the temple. My master and I had been to many different ancient temples on expeditions to look for lost texts because the best ones were always hidden. 

“Of course I would never deny touching you.” Anakin said as he was moving to grab a hold on my waist and lift me into the air.

“Thank you, but could you not jerk me around it causes vertigo.” Concentrating on the book I reach out for it. When my hand finally grabs it and I am lowered to the ground I call for BeeDee. “BeeDee could you call the council? I think I have the book and just need to confirm with the council.” The small droid lets out a happy chirp and within moments I hear Master Mace Windu.

“Ah Y/N, we were starting to get worried your master came back about an hour ago with the book in question. It was placed in a section about saber hilts. She said she had been looking for you for a while and gave up looking. She then brought the book to us.”

“Then what book do I have in my hands?” Master Windu’s words confused me, why did I grab this book? If they had the book I was supposed to be looking for why was this one calling out to me to find it.

“The cover says something about the light and the chosen.” Anakin responded clearly sensing my distress. “I will say it was weird when she went to grab it, her hand passed through the book case like there wasn’t anything there.”

“Hidden knowledge, that must be.” I hear Master Yoda speak. “Sense it before or after you ran into Skywalker, did you, hmm?”

“After Master, I had him lift me up to grab it.” What is going on right now?

“Like you two to come to the council's chamber right away I would. Hmmmmmm. Yes.” and with that the static from the holo projector cuts off and BeeDee chirps at me.

“Welp let's get going, BeeDee, up.” as i go to leave BeeDee jumps on my shoulder. “Anakin, are you coming?”

[legobiwan]

Whumptober #2

“pick who dies”

Notes: This got out of control. I was going to add an Obi-wan + Anakin section but I had to cut myself off as I do have other things I need to get to today. This is less whump than...a set of pretentious character studies with THE LINEAGE (including Rael) and an excuse to explore the trolley problem within a Star Wars setting. I blame my recent Hannibal obsession for what you see below. First part here, rest under the cut. Note, I am a musician, not a philosophy student, so allow for some creative interpretation here. 

General Whumptober tag

Whumptober 2020 #1

~~~~~~~

(excerpt from “The Padawan’s Guide to Philosophy.” Eds. Masters Thrife-Foran & Ugaaalich. 616th e. Coruscant, 940 ARR. Holobook.)

Premise:

You are out for an afternoon walk in the outer regions of Thymilla, a moderately-populated city on the planet Ungar. On your walk, you pass by a set of hovertrain tracks, which branch into two separate arms - one an extension of the main track, the other a smaller offshoot which leads to a cargo loading zone, about fifty clicks south of where you are. (Diagram 3)

As a hovertrain approaches from the north, you hear screaming, the words of the driver becoming clearer as the hovertrain barrels towards the switch. The brakes of the train have failed and there is no chance of repair. If the train continues on its current path, it will kill five workers making repairs on the track. If you pull a switch, the hovertrain will divert to the offshoot, where it will kill one worker at the cargo loading zone.

Because of an anomaly in Ungar’s atmosphere, you cannot access the Force.

Do you pull the switch or do nothing and allow the train to speed forward?

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Dooku shifted on his meditation pod, the firm material groaning as he uncrossed his legs from the lotus position, gingerly setting both his bare feet to the cool, tiled floor of his Master’s chambers. The young man allowed himself a small wince with the action. Yoda might have been able to keep that damnable position for hours, probably days on end, but Dooku was just a few months shy of his eighteenth life day, and another recent growth spurt seemingly focused all on his legs made sitting for any long amount of time…uncomfortable, to say the least.

Which was likely why Yoda had had him trapped him here for the past three hours, running through one ethical thought experiment after the other, poking his literal and metaphorical gimmer stick precisely at each gnarled and swollen joint in both his body and thoughts.

To act - to pull the switch - would mean to commit premeditated murder, even if it were for the greater good. Hardly a Jedi-like action. But then again, they had been taught - indoctrinated, really - with the idea that is was acceptable to sacrifice one life for the lives of many. A supposedly fair trade-off, although Dooku had seen enough of the Jedi’s relationship to the Senate, had seen enough of the Council’s internal politics, to know that two lives did not necessarily hold equal weight.

But to not act - to let the train barrel through, to leave it up to the will of the Force...Dooku clenched his teeth. That seemed more in line with the Order he was coming to know, was consistent with the Council’s lack of action on Protobranch, when Sifo-Diyas had seen the calamity that was to befall the planet and yet the Council, his Master, had done too little, too late, preferring to allow events to transpire as they would, the Jedi only impassive bystanders.

What was the point of their abilities, their training, their place in the universe, if they weren’t able to change the course of events for the better?

“I suppose,” Dooku began slowly, coming to stand, suddenly not caring if he was maintaining his proper meditation position. The young man padded towards the slightly shuttered windows on the other side of the room.

“I suppose it depends on the relative worth of each life,” he said, turning away from Yoda as to not see the subtle moue of distaste Dooku was certain would cross the old Master’s face.

“Is not all life sacred, Padawan?”

Dooku barely bit back the dark chuckle threatening to escape from his chest. Only in the holos and classrooms and the empty rhetoric of the Council was all life sacred. The Jedi could do so much more, he could do so much more to change the galaxy and yet the Order allowed itself to be chained to politicians, leashed like akk-dogs until receiving command.

No, Dooku thought. There was no balance - not here and not in the Force.

“From the information you’ve provided,” Dooku said, ignoring Yoda’s question. He peered through the slits of the rotor blinds into the watery illumination of Coruscant’s night sky. The dome of the Senate building rose through the rain like an oddly-shaped umbrella, shielding those in power with its wide beadth. “We can assume both parties of victims are of equal social standing, being manual laborers. Because of this, we must find other ways of determining their worth, their ability to enact change in the galaxy.”

Dooku clasped his hands behind his back, daring to turn to face his Master’s displeasure.

“The question becomes whether you want to hold sway over the transit network of a forgettable city, or the imports and exports that may go off-world. Exports which might include valuable resources or even smuggled goods. Items which could affect the governance of our imagined city and therefore, by extension, an even larger part of the populace.”

“Which is why, in this case,” Dooku concluded, his posture straightening, “I would choose to allow the hovertrain to continue its course and save the cargo worker.”

Yoda folded both claws over his gimmer stick, frowning. After a moment, he let out a small grunt, his features now inscrutable.

“And see yourself as the final arbiter of worth, do you, my young apprentice? Stand you above all others holding a golden scale, you do?”

Don’t we, as Jedi, hold these scales every day and yet choose to ignore them? Dooku thought.

“Someone,” the young man replied, “will make the judgment regardless. Is it not better for the Jedi to use our powers to make such decisions?”

This time Yoda did let out a wet sigh, shaking his head.

“Dangerous, these thoughts are, my Padawan,” Yoda grumbled, gesturing at the meditation pod. “Sit, young Dooku. Much we have to discuss.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Rael.”

Rael Averross slung an arm over the back of Dooku’s couch, sleeves of his Master’s borrowed robe hanging long near the tips of his fingers. It had been the third time that month Rael had “misplaced” his own robe, his Master’s foisted upon him in the wee hours of the morning, Dooku grunting something about “Jedi propriety” before shoving Rael out the door. (The things were a damned inconvenience, and made him look like something straight out of a space station ghost story, to boot. Was it so surprising he showed up to Dooku’s quarters in a state which his Master referred to as “half-naked?”)

Rael bit his lip, trying to not think of all the times he had actually been half-naked in the Temple. Those were fun times. Unfortunately, Dooku could probably mind read them out of him right now if he weren’t so concentrated on this thought experiment.

“Why not save them both?” Rael drawled amiably, scratching at the beginnings of a beard with his other hand as he hoped to distract his Master from any hint of his past indiscretions. It was about time, too, he thought. Never going to look my age going around all smooth-faced like a transparisteel window surface.

Dooku gave a small smile. “You cannot, Rael. Those are the rules of the scenario.”

“Rules,” Rael scoffed, picking at the hem of Dooku’s overly-fancy robe before suddenly launching to his feet, unable to contain his restlessness. The younger Jedi paced up and down the length of Dooku’s couch, grateful his usually strict Master was allowing him this indulgence. Not that Dooku had any problem sitting still for what felt like forever - stiff as a board, that one - but Rael was too jittery, too full potential energy to keep his thoughts in neat line with his body. “Rules are meant to be broken, Master,” Rael gave a swift chop with his hand in illustration. “You’re the first one to tell me that.”

Rael heard his Master let out a soft snort in response. Only Dooku could make such a noise sound dignified. “I suppose I did,” the older man answered evenly.

“So there you go! Blow up the train and everyone’s fine.”

“And kill the driver?”

Rael spun to face Dooku, the other man’s eyebrows raised not in condemnation, but genuine interest. It was days like this Rael truly appreciated having Dooku as a Master. Sure, he was as pretentious as any big-city Senator, a hard taskmaster in his lessons, and an even tougher dueling trainer - but at the end of the day, Dooku only expected Rael to follow Dooku’s rules, and not the Order’s.

And as much as Rael chaffed under any collar, he’d take Dooku’s version of the Code over the Council’s any day.

“I mean, the driver is the one in control of the train,” Rael shrugged. “Sure, it’s an accident, but the they were going to be dead either way once they hit those other bodies. Probably would go flying through the window and bash their skull in. This way, you save six lives,” Rael gave his best used speeder salesman grin. “Buy five, get one free.”

That little addition did cause his Master to roll his eyes.

“You are…” Dooku pressed his lips together, sitting back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. It was as close as Dooku ever got to a casual posture. “Colorful rhetoric aside, you are essentially advocating for pre-emptive action. Very interesting, Rael.”

“Interesting as in,” Rael pulled a sour face, imitating Dooku’s proper Serennian accent, “‘And now I will assign you five Jedi moral precepts to memorize and write a five-page essay about’ or interesting as in ‘I will now have you learn the complete codified law of the Umbargans, whose entire military strategy revolved around non-preemptive attacks.”

Dooku chuckled - actually chuckled - at Rael’s minor impertinent outburst. “Neither, Rael. Although, I must say you have provided me the perfect means by which I may punish you later on.” Damn, dug my own grave with that one, thought Rael. 

“No,” Dooku continued, “I merely find your stance on this matter to be refreshingly…original.”

“You mean the Council wouldn’t approve?”

It took his Master a full minute to answer, his gaze shifting beyond Rael, beyond the confines of their shared quarters, Dooku seeming lost in some memory.

“Hardly,” he finally said. “And that is for the best.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan?”

Qui-gon Jinn sat motionless on the small patch of grass, listening to the susurrations of the light breeze in the Room of a Thousand Fountains finger through a nearby thicket of Borto reeds. Across from him, Master Dooku sat in a mirrored pose, long legs crossed over the other in the lotus position, expression unreadable, his presence in the Force - or, his effect on the Force presence on the vegetation around him - one of controlled expectancy, a single blade of grass erect and ready despite the buffeting winds.

“We shouldn’t have to choose, Master,” Qui-gon replied, trying to steady his own uneven thoughts and emotions. Although he had been Dooku’s Padawan for almost five years now, Qui-gon still found himself worrying his responses to thought experiments like these would not pass his Master’s high and stringent intellectual standards.

“In an ideal world, Qui-gon, we wouldn’t. But as you have learned - as I have shown you - the status quo rarely measures up to our ideals.”

The status quo, Qui-gon thought. Code for the Senate, for the Council, for the Republic at large. That much he had figured out, had learned from Rael, whose ability to translate Dooku’s sometimes opaque rhetoric to something more digestible never ceased to amaze Qui-gon.

The status quo. The more years he spent with Dooku - with Rael, when the younger man was around - the more Qui-gon understood. Perhaps he always had a predilection to question, to challenge what was “known,” the dictums etched in stone handed down from the Council to the Council’s Masters to its Padawans. But with Dooku’s guidance, and with his own exploration of the Jedi prophecies, Qui-gon had developed his own sense of right and wrong, of how the galaxy ought to work in consonance with the ideals of the Jedi Code and his own moral compass.

“In that case, I would ask the Force for guidance,” Qui-gon replied, thoughts slipping back to the many hours he had spent in the Archives, poring over ancient holocrons. The Force had provided for the seers of old, why shouldn’t it provide now?

“Perhaps the Force cannot provide all the answers,” Dooku countered, as if reading his mind.

Qui-gon frowned, tilting his head. “Is that not what the Jedi teach, Master? What you teach? To follow the Force?”

“To a degree,” Dooku assented, rare amusement curling the side of his lips. “But the Jedi work in symbiosis with the Force, and even that is within a certain self-imposed definition of what the Force may or may not be capable of.”

Self-imposed definition? Qui-gon ran his hands through the soft grass at his sides, no longer able to keep that perfect stillness now that Dooku had so upset his equilibrium. Had his study of the prophecies not proven that exact point? That the Jedi of now no longer regarded the Force with as open a mind those of millennia ago?

“The Force is more infinite, has more potentialities than the confines of what we could possibly hope to study in a thousand lifetimes,” Qui-gon hedged.

“And so you hope to use prophecy to save these doomed beings?” Dooku retorted with a small wave of his hand. Ah yes, the hovertrain problem, Qui-gon grimaced. He had almost quite forgotten about the whole reason for this conversation.

“I would hope to…” Qui-gon cocked his head, watching a pair of butterflies flutter over a Byrsonima crassifolia, fragile leaves fluttering in their wake. An action - or a lack of action. If he saved one life or saved five. What would the repercussions be? How could he know he was making the right choice? How could the Order know, if not for guidance from the Force, in all its possible iterations?

And yet, the study prophecy of was considered at best, an esoteric hobby - at worst, a dangerous arm of mysticism by much of the Council.

Which is why your Master encourages you to think beyond the dictates of the Council, Qui-gon concluded.

“Yes, then,” Qui-gon stated, suddenly more confident in his answers. “I would hope to ameliorate the situation by using a similar mindset of the prophets. One of openness, wonder, and possibility - to find my way in this situation.”

“And just how far would you be willing to take supposed,” Dooku trained him with an enigmatic expression, “openness?” The word weighed heavy with implication.

Qui-gon started. What exactly is Dooku trying to get at here? Hadn’t it been his Master who had introduced him to the prophecies, to the Force beyond the dictates of the Code? So far, Dooku had not steered him wrong, and yet just as the nearby Byrsonima crassifolia cast a long shadow over the open grass, so did Dooku’s unspoken entreaty.

But before Qui-gon could cobble together an answer, Dooku seemed to break out of his trance, chuckling slightly as he got to his feet. He extended a long arm to Qui-gon, who took it without hesitation, coming to stand at his Master’s side.

“Meditate on the answer, Qui-gon. For now, I believe it is past time for dinner.”

~~~~~~~

“Your thoughts, Padawan.”

Obi-wan Kenobi shifted in the overly-large, overly-plush velvet chair which threatened to swallow him whole. He and Qui-gon had been dispatched to Barstovia, a little-known desert mining planet in the Mid-Rim. A simple mission, really, overseeing a trade deal between Barstovia and Ord Mantell, opening up some shipping lines of the rare fermenium mineral to the Republic. A wholly forgettable mission, if Obi-wan were being honest, except for the fact the diminutive race of Barstovia seemed to prize, of all the unlikely things, oversized, over-upholstered furniture.

While Obi-wan struggled with a crimson throw pillow the size of his torso, his master, Qui-gon Jinn, sat across from him, perfectly serene in his eight-foot tall, royal blue armchair.

“Well, Master,” Obi-wan said, words strained as he punched the pillow to his side with un-Jedi-like ferocity. Of all times for Qui-gon to pull out a thought experiment.

“The prevailing wisdom would say to sacrifice one life to save five - a utilitarian outlook and the most practical, at least on the surface.” Obi-wan pushed down on the seat of his chair, trying in vain to straighten his posture, to lend his answer some form of credence beyond his words. Inevitably, Qui-gon would hold the exact opposite opinion from Obi-wan’s, and while Obi-wan had often kept his feelings to himself under the guise of “picking his battles,” he preferred to express his thoughts while at least looking the part of an almost eighteen-year-old Padawan, and not some child stuck in a chair too large for him.  He struck at the recalcitrant cushion one last time. “But as Jedi, we often prioritize a single being or beings if they hold an important role.” 

“In the short-term,” Obi-wan grimaced suddenly, pulling an impossible second pillow from under his right thigh, “we would lose four lives over one, granted. But in the long-term, that single life lost might mean the eventual deaths of hundreds, perhaps thousands.”

“But you do not have this information, Padawan,” Qui-gon replied, a crease of annoyance in his brow. Obi-wan noted there was no accompanying crease in the cushion of his Master’s chair. “All you know is the number of beings.”

Obi-wan bit down on a caustic reply. Yes, I know that, Master. I hadn’t gotten to my point yet. But when did Qui-gon actually ever listen to him?

“Yes, Master, this is true,” the younger Jedi answered, Obi-wan impressed with the evenness of his own response despite his increasing irritation. “Which is why I would endeavor to save them all.”

A beat. a raised eyebrow coupled with a subtle sigh. “Quite the feat, Obi-wan,” Qui-gon finally said, his words laced with skepticism. “How would you accomplish such a thing?”

How in the world is he not drowning in that chair? Obi-wan thought, distracted by his Master’s impenetrability, despite the audacious situation. There was Qui-gon, halfway across the room, composed and neat - well, as neat as Qui-gon ever got - against the regal backdrop of the humorously-sized chair while Obi-wan floundered in a sea of crimson, just out of his Master’s reach.

And wasn’t that the perfect metaphor for their troubled partnership?

Obi-wan wiped at his brow. “It’s quite simple, Master. The hovertrain could be diverted, or at least impeded by a third party inserting themselves into the equation.”

Something in Qui-gon’s expression shifted at the statement, earlier annoyance now melting into something closer to concern. The older man leaned forward in his chair, for the first time exhibiting a pang of discomfort as he battled the voluminous material.

“And who might that be?” Qui-gon asked, batting at the tsunami of beige woven blanket at his side.

“Myself, of course.”

Dead silence met Obi-wan’s words.

Wrong answer, Kenobi. Absolutely the wrong answer. Disappointment was written all over Qui-gon’s body language, even emanating from his usually controlled Force signature. Obi-wan fell back into the chair, not bothering to fight the dunes and valleys of velvet threatening to overtake him, averting his gaze to some preposterously-sized side-table and vase. Hopefully, his failure to provide the correct response would be the end of this increasingly uncomfortable conversation. Qui-gon would assign him some reading and meditation, and let the matter rest until they returned to Coruscant.

But Qui-gon only peered at Obi-wan with a piercing stare, apparently not ready to give up on the exchange.

“You would sacrifice yourself to save the others?”

Obi-wan found himself mirroring his master’s movements.

“Isn’t that what it means to be a Jedi?” he asked, genuinely perplexed. “We are servants of the Republic, of the Force - if our actions can save lives so that Republic may continue in peace - “ Obi-wan’s mouth opened and closed, trying to form the words that would express his devotion to the Order, the Code, his own sense of honor - but found himself gaping like an Ithorian cuttlefish.

Once again, Qui-gon fell into contemplation, back arching against tall, bulbous pillows, brushing his mustache with a single finger. A minute, then two went by, the only sound the clicks of a nearby chrono. Over eighteen feet tall, the clicks sounded more like the steps of a lurking gundark than a timepiece, doing nothing for Obi-wan’s nerves.

Finally, Qui-gon broke the uncomfortable semi-silence. “Don’t be so hasty to throw away your own life, Padawan. As you rightly said, the death of a monarch may cause the deaths of many others down the road. But you cannot know how many lives would remain unsaved if you were to treat your own so lightly.”

Obi-wan’s eyebrows rose. That had not been the reaction he was expecting.

“But how am I to know when that sacrifice is necessary?” he asked automatically. Obi-wan would make that sacrifice gladly, although...to be perfectly honest, he would prefer not to die as a seventeen-year-old Padawan. 

“The better question is how you can work to reach a more productive option rather than coming to such a dire conclusion.” Qui-gon’s voice softened. “I am serious, Obi-wan. You have much to offer the galaxy. Don’t let your strict adherence to Jedi ideals extinguish your star too early. Not only would the Republic be at a loss, but…” Qui-gon looked away, staring down at some invisible pattern in the corner of the room. “I would, as well.”

Obi-wan’s mouth dropped open. “Master, I - “

“Ah, Master Jedi!” A new voice squeaked from the gargantuan entranceway. “Thank you so much for waiting,” proclaimed the three-foot Minister of Commerce, Parhary Hatch, bedecked in a long, flowery robe whose velvet train stretched back several feet. “Please, if you would,” he gestured towards the tall archway.

“Yes, of course, Minister Hatch,” Qui-gon replied in his diplomatic voice, jumping neatly off the chair, his landing as elegant as a Coruscanti ice skater.

Obi-wan frowned, joining his Master in a slightly less dignified, but no less effective maneuver. They had been on the verge of…something, some kind of understanding, or at least a truce. Whatever words had remained unsaid between would likely stay so, the moment gone, the trip back to Coruscant, and then to a Hutt outpost taking priority over these types of conversations.

Another time, then, Obi-wan sighed to himself, following the slinking violet trail of the Bartovian minister and his Master into the long corridors of the palace.

[gredandforge01]

Cal Kestis: The Dark Side

PLOT: Yourself and the infamous Jedi, Cal Kestis, are on the mission to stop the Empire killing innocent, Force-Sensitive kids; but as you and Cal venture further into Ilum, you find it harder to focus on the mission as a certain memory keeps showing up in your mind.

•••

The Mantis landed with a few oddly concerning sounds. "Hey Greez, I think you need to check your ship out, eh? It's making weird sounds." I told him as he walked around the Holotable to reach Cere, Cal and myself.

He looked up at me and scoffed, "why would I do that? This ship is in perfect condition, there's no need to-" Greez was cut off from something falling around the back of the ship. He stopped for a moment and lowered his gaze, almost embarrassed. "Yeah, you know what? That sounds like a perfect idea, I'll be doing that while you and Cal do... whatever it is you need to do on this freezing planet. But don't take too long, I don't want to freeze my ship or arms off, thank you very much."

I laughed at him, patting him on the shoulder and went over to Cal as Greez walked around back to check out the source of the sound. Cal was standing by the door, waiting for me, he didn't say a word to me, but went outside into the freezing climate of Ilum.

We recently had a fight because I had risked my life in order to save Cal from a bunch of Nightsisters attacking us when Merrin had unleashed them upon us and the weird Wanderer. I had used the Dark Side to push them away from us, before bolting to get back to the Mantis. I knew I was in trouble, as Cal was very against using the Dark Side of the Force, but I had saved us both; what would have happened if I didn't?

Unlike Cal, I was very persuaded to use the Dark Side of the Force every time I used any type of Force, and so to prevent myself from doing so, I cut myself from it - much like Cere did. Cere helped me try and control my habit, but because she wasn't using The Force herself, she could only do so much. I once burned a hole in the side of the Mantis trying to contain the power within me and hurt Cere and unknowingly Force-Pushed Greez into The Holotable, and that's when I decided that I couldn't control my power and so stopped using The Force altogether.

That was before Cal came along into my life. Cal and I had bonded quickly, soon enough getting together. I found out that Cal too had some trouble with The Force and so that's when I decided to tell him the I once used to be a Padawan; a very tricky one to deal with, unfortunately. My Master was obsessed with The Zeffo and how it all worked, much like Condova, and therefore didn't teach me as well as she could have. That's when The Purge happened and my Master had been turned to the Dark Side and I barely escaped her torture to try and turn me as well, resulting in me using the Dark Side to escape The Empire. I would have been lying if I said I wasn't thinking about turning to the Dark Side in order for her to stop torturing me, but then I thought of my parents and what they would have wanted me to do and so fought it as much as I could and barely escaped.

I shivered as I looked up at the tall Jedi Temple, it was beautiful, much like it used to be when I went there as a child. "Hey Y/N, got a second?" I heard Cere say and walked over to her. Cal waited a few feet away, talking to BD-1. "I know you and Cal are having trouble at the moment, and I don't blame him for being mad at you, because you did use the Dark Side, but you both have to make up. It's making him not as focused on the task as he should be. You are each other's rock, you need to do something or otherwise this mission may fail." Cere told me and I nodded, she had a point.

"I will Cere, I was trying to help and- and- I don't know. I was just trying to help, Cere. Please don't be mad at me for that." I whispered and lowered my head in sadness. I get why she was mad at me but after all, I was just trying to do what was right.

She brought me in for an unexpected hug, "it's okay Y/N." We pulled away and I smiled at her before joining Cal. He looked down at me for a moment, sensing my sadness before turning to walk towards the Jedi Temple, I sighed and followed him. As we came closer to the temple, BD-1 jumped from Cal's shoulder to mine and I smiled at him.

"Beep Boop?" The droid spoke to me, wondering if I was alright.

I laughed at him, trying to cover my hurt up. "Yes, I'm alright BD. How about you? Are you alright? Your parts aren't freezing up, are they?" I asked him.

The droid made a sound, "Beep Boop Beep!"

"That's good, little buddy." I said as we neared a small gap to squeeze through. Cal went through before I did and we neared the other side before Cal climbed up the ice wall, me following in suite. "Wow, it's beautiful up here." I mumbled and BD-1 beeped in agreement. We continued up the ice wall, having to jump to reach it, before climbing up to one of the side areas. It was dark for a moment, my eyes adjusting to the darkness before I saw a plug that connected to a stand on the other side of the room. I jumped to get to it but soon realised that I need to Force-Pull it towards me.

"Um, Cal? Can you do this please?" I asked him and he looked over in my direction to see the plug. He jumped onto the ledge I was on and Force-Pulled the plug towards him before putting it into the stand. I watched as the door opened and light shone through the magnifying window in the next room.

When we got to the magnifying window, I stopped for a second, enjoying the slight warmth it was giving. "It's nice to have the warmth from the window." Cal spoke but I realised he wasn't speaking to me, but BD-1 instead and I sighed quietly as I followed him to other room where there was another magnifying window.

Once we broke down the ice walls covering the entry ways to undiscovered sections of Ilum, we followed the path that lead underwater. When I jumped in, I made a noise of discomfort and Cal looked behind him to see if I was alright before quickly turning back and submerging himself completely underwater. This silent treatment was killing me, it hurt that he wasn't talking to me at all. I grabbed my breather and followed him, spotting a chest behind one of the columns and swimming over to it. BD-1 jumped off and dived into the chest before coming out and showing us what he got.

The reason why we were on this isolated planet was because Cal had broken his lightsaber when facing his dead Master, Jaro Tapal, and he was a wreck afterwards, only hurting more when I used the Dark Side of the Force. We were in search for a Kyber Crystal to help him rebuild his lightsaber and hopefully get over his guilt for not being strong enough to save his Master. I still remembered when we got back to the Mantis after barely escaping the deadly rage of the Nightsisters, Cal had broken down into front of the crew. Cere wouldn't have any of it though, explaining to Cal the truth behind her failed Padawan, Trilla, and how she escaped the torture she was held in. She gave Cal her lightsaber and demanded he rebuild one; to move on from his guilt.

I knew I was in trouble when I was sitting on the sofa in the Mantis and Cal came up to me and sat down, looking at me with a look of disappointment in his beautiful green eyes. "Why would you do that?" He asked, it sounded harsh, even if he didn't mean too. I went to speak but he spoke again, "you could have lost control back there!"

My gaze lowered and I took a deep breath, trying to fight the tears that threatened to spill. "Cal, I'm- I'm sorry. I was just trying to help the both of us." My voice was quiet yet my heartbeat was loud in my ears. Cal sighed and ran a hand through his ginger locks.

Standing up abruptly, Cal suddenly grew frustrated with me. "What would have happened if there was a few more Nightsisters there, huh? You would have to have used more of the Dark Side to stop them, and then what? Y/N, you could have turned there!"

"I'm sorry." Was all I managed to whisper as tears hit my pants. Cal let out a frustrated groan and stormed off to his room. I whimper and brush the hair from my eyes, only to see Greez and Cere looking at me, making me look away instantly. Taking a deep breath, I stand and make my way to my own room before shutting the door, not coming out until we landed on Ilum. Greez had a look of sympathy, and while Cere also held that same look, she also had a look of anger as well. I had truly screwed up this time.

Replaying back on those memories, tears once again gathered in my mind, but I quickly brushed them away before Cal or BD-1 could see. Cal stopped for a second, almost making me crash into him but quickly stopped myself. "I see it BD-1, that's where we need to go." He said, looking over the ice walls at a ledge in the distance.

Its like anger grew inside me when he mentioned BD-1 again, and not me, and I couldn't control my outburst. "Why are you always talking to BD-1? I exist too, you know, or do you wish I didn't because I save us from the Nightsisters and had to use the Force? Why- why can't you just realise that I am sorry and move on?" My voice cracked at the last sentence, tears gathering in my eyes faster than before and succeeded in spilling.

Cal looked back, while BD-1 made a sound of sadness. Cal's eyes softened as I broke down and crouched on the iced floor, not caring that it was cold or that my hands where freezing and I could barely feel them.

"Y/N-" Cal started but I wouldn't hear his complaints about me anymore.

He crouched down to be with me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Forget it Cal, I'm going back to the Mantis." I grumbled and wiped away my tears before standing and walking in the other direction, back to the ship. He didn't try and follow me back, which I was glad for.

I didn't know why I was so angry at him, when really it was my fault in the first place. I understood that I had done something wrong but he or Cere didn't have to keep telling me and pulling me down into my abyss of guilt and regret, they could help me try and control myself.

I was shivering violently when I got back to the Mantis, Greez seeing me first and gave me a questioning look. "Hey kid, what's the matter? Why aren't you with Cal?" He asked as he salted his steak.

Cere came from the cockpit as he heard Greez and saw me on the verge of tears and shivering violently. I looked down at my hands that were starting to go blue before up to Cere. "Why can't you accept that I'm not like you or Cal, that I don't know how to use the Force properly, that I have trouble controlling it? Why do you have to be so mean and keep telling me about my mistakes? Why can't you just accept what I did and move on?" I knew I shouldn't be angry, but I couldn't help it. My hands balled into fists and the sound of shattering came from the kitchen.

Greez leaped back as the light above him shattered into tiny pieces. Our attention was moved to the light and I felt guilt wash over me again when I saw Greez picking out a shard of glass in his arm.

I broke down then, covering my face in my hands. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. What's wrong with me?" I sobbed and ran to my room, locking it behind me before sliding down the metal and bringing my knees to my chest. I sobbed for a long time, not knowing when I had stopped and finally drifted into an uncomfortable sleep.

I woke to faint whispers being ushered between people before I groaned and stood up from my position on the floor, moving to my bed. It was terribly cold and I was still shivering violently as I wrapped the thin blanket around my body. Someone knocked on the door a few moments later, "who is it?" I mumbled, secretly hoping it was Greez, he seemed to be the only one to not judge me.

"It's me, Cal." I sighed when I heard his muffled voice on the other side of the door. I knew I couldn't avoid him forever, that I had to face him and the mistakes I had caused.

I got up and padded to the door, unlocking it for him before it swooshed open and he came in. His eyes held nothing but softness and I'm sure that if he was looking into my eyes, they would be red with hopelessness laced all throughout them.

Cal didn't usher a word for a few moments, making the air around us thicken with tension. I looked down at my hands, them being the most intriguing thing in my room. "Y/N-"

"I'm sorry, Cal." I whispered. Tears threatened to spill once again but I held them back.

"It's okay, I'm sorry I was so harsh on you. You had made a mistake yet I made it seem like the end of the world, when it wasn't." Cal said and grabbed my hands in his, bringing them to his mouth to blow hot air on, it was nice seeming I was so cold.

I stayed quiet for a while, just enjoying the peaceful silence between us. Cal unexpectedly brought me in for a hug, trying to warm me up as best as he could, and I felt myself relax beside him.

"I'll help teach you become a Jedi." Those words rang in my head and I looked up at Cal, his green eyes glancing back down at me lovingly. "Cere will help too, we discussed this just before. We will go to Bogano and I will help teach you there. We just have to get the Holocron first then I'm all yours."

I sat up then, tears forming in my eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time and I engulfed Cal in a hug. "You would do that for me?" I whisper.

"You know I would." He whispered back. I smiled at him, grabbing his face and kissing him lovingly. I pulled back as soon as I leant in, we've never kissed before... A bright blush covers my face and so does Cal's. He slowly reaches up to cup my face before gently bringing my face back to his, stopping just before he kisses me and brushes his lips against mine. I whimper and he finally pushes his lips to mine softly.

As we pull back, I lean my forehead against his and smile softly. He does the same, and for the first time that day, I felt content and happy; safe and wrapped up in Cal's arms.

[capricornus-rex]

For your muse! :D “How about making me vice president in charge of cheering you up?”

“Two Sides of the Coin” | Chapter 16: Memory in a Shallow Grave | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

A/N: This has got to be the longest reply (in the guise of a fic chapter) I’ve ever written! ;A; I hope you don’t mind the 4000+ or so word count, honey... because this is the part where Order 66 angst kicks in T^T

Also tagging @silver-is-in-too-many-fandoms @calsponchoemporium @stellar-trinity @queen-destenie @calgasm @cal-jestis @justtinfoley @peterwandaparker @sweeetteaa @ayamenimthiriel @superwarsofthrones @fallenjedii

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC | Special tags: Order 66, Nomara Anesh, Togruta! Fem OC, Jedi Master! Fem OC

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 – 5 – 6 – 7 – 8 – 9 – 10 – 11 – 12 – 13 – 14 | Previous: Part 15 | Next: Part 17 | Masterlist

16 of ?

23 BBY

Jidné passed the time by studying the Holocrons she borrowed from the Archives, she came across Master Kit Fisto’s Holocron wherein he has discovered the ancient lightsaber modification that allows one’s saber to function underwater as it would on dry land. The little Padawan was intrigued and fascinated, so she set aside the other datacrons to listen to this particular one.

For the rest of the afternoon, she whiled away in reviewing the instructions and carefully studied the cross-sections. She realized that in order for this modification to work, she will need a second kyber crystal for the energy channels to route one another—since a single kyber would short-circuit if submerged or activated underwater.

“That would mean going to Ilum again,” Jidné thought out loud in the solace of her dorm. “I wonder if I could ask Master Anesh. I bet she’d allow me.”

“Jidné?” the disembodied voice of her master beckoned her.

The girl’s head jerked to the direction where she found the voice, she seals the Holocron shut using the Force with promptness and sees Master Anesh walking into the garden square. Jidné set aside the artifact on the bench along with her leather-bound journals where she copied the things she liked page after page, she landed on her feet as Nomara approached her little Padawan.

“I’m here, Master Anesh,”

Nomara peeked over the child’s shoulder and saw the Holocron sitting atop a small pile of notebooks.

“Have you been busy?”

“Just studying, I have something to tell you as well, Master Anesh!”

“Later, after today’s practice,”

Jidné nodded in agreement, then the master noticed the four turquoise beads adorning the end of her Padawan braid.

“Did you do something with your braid?”

“Hmm? Oh, remember our mission back in Alderaan? A peddler sold these beads. I thought the color’s pretty and they resembled the ones on your headband, so I thought of decorating my braid with it—to make it look like yours!” the Padawan girl beamed.

The radiance of her innocence endeared her master, the gesture warmed Nomara’s heart that she had to clutch her chest out of impulse.

“How sweet of you. I think it made your braid twice as prettier,”

“Thank you, Master!”

“You’re welcome. Come now, my little one, we’ve much to do for today’s practice,”

Jidné timed the moment where she can ask Master Anesh if she’ll permit to go to Ilum for that one requirement of the modification. Outspoken and carefree as ever, the Padawan girl decided to speak it out anyway before they could commence the training session.

“Master, if I may ask,”

“Yes, what is it, Jidné?”

“About your saber. Is it waterproof? I mean, can you use it underwater?” the Togruta slighted her head to the side, shooting the girl an attentive look.

“Yes, I can use it underwater. Why the sudden interest?”

“I came across a Holocron that shows how to modify the saber to make it work while in the water,”

The Togruta smiled, clearly recalling and knowing what the little Padawan is referring to.

“Ah, so that Holocron over there must be a copy of Master Fisto’s,”

“Yes, well, I was wondering if…” she trailed off rather bashfully, almost too shy to speak. “I could ask permission to go to Ilum—with you, of course! To get that second crystal to make it work,”

Nomara smiled, her response to Jidné’s request birthed a wide grin across the little ten-year-old’s face. The girl sprang up and down from the floor out of sheer excitement, her ecstatic “Yes!” echod across the emptiness of the gardens.

“But first, we still have instruction. We’re going to need to work on your Force Shroud. Remember when you told me that you still had trouble in using it? Well, we’ll work on that, okay?”

The girl flashed a small smile, “I’d like that very much.”

“We’ll begin when you’re ready,”

The Padawan did a series of stretches for warm-ups, as well as her spinning exercises for her lightsaber handling. Nomara’s teaching methods were similar to how Master Caius trained her—he didn’t rely on drones and droids, he personally sparred with Nomara during her days as an apprentice as well as enemies in the battlefield.

Nomara shed off her long, brown robes—making it easier for her to engage in combat against her Padawan. In between strikes and dodges, the Jedi Master bantered with the Padawan—giving her words of affirmation or extra tips to better the girl’s combat style. Jidné showed the same amount of promise that she demonstrated in the Initiate Trials; her skill with the lightsaber amplified with Anesh’s rather hands-on method of training, motivated by the aspiration to master Form V: Shien & Djem So—which the master can clearly see in the Padawan’s pattern of movement.

“Steel your nerves, Jidné, that way your Force Shroud doesn’t falter in the slightest scare!” Nomara coached, and the sharp-witted girl took that into mind.

In the next move, Jidné did steel her nerves while cloaked within her Force Shroud, she evaded Nomara’s line of sight and studied her master’s watchfulness until she could find the window of opportunity to strike. Jidné jabbed at Nomara’s direction—to which she flexibly deflected—but immediately pulled away to mislead her master’s eyes; again, she observed the Togruta’s expression and quickly realized that Nomara is still searching for the invisible Padawan.

“Very good, Jidné!” Master Anesh commended albeit incapable to find her Padawan.

Perhaps Jidné didn’t notice it—she didn’t turn visible when she landed that jab and only found out after Master Anesh affirmed her. The child was satisfied and proud of herself, continuing in that same rhythm, the instruction carried on until dusk.

—–

22 BBY

A year has passed since the Clone Wars began.

Members of the Jedi Council were, by default, appointed as generals, much to their chagrin and great contrast to the principles of their Order. A handful of Jedi were also dispatched as an auxiliary military group to aid the clones in fighting the war against Separatist and the droid army.

Seeing that it couldn’t be helped, Nomara—along with her little Padawan—has been named a general. She made peace with the fact that she can never keep a protective umbrella above Jidné’s head—away from all sorts of harm and violence—given that this was the life that her mother preferred for her than digging the earth to live back in her homeworld of Eshyn.

At the disposal of the Jedi General are the 304th Battalion of clones commanded by the trooper captain—CT-7462 or Captain Gat—and a fleet spearheaded by the Venator-class cruiser named Wayward Patriot. The Patriot became the pair’s second home after the Jedi Temple, Jidné’s only consolation and company aside from her master were the clones—which greatly fascinated her. She talked their way into their hearts with her curious questions and playful nature.

“Is training hard for you guys?” Jidné inquired.

The clone chuckled, “Well, it gets a bit tricky sometimes. I mean, it can’t be any different from your training, eh, kiddo?”

“Nah, I have it hard too, I guess,” Jidné shrugged one shoulder, then slowly breaks down into little chuckles. “Who doesn’t get their nerves worked up when they’re fighting another youngling with tons of masters and other kids watching you?”

“Ooh, that does sound tough!” the second clone played along while being genuinely bemused by the girl.

Despite the war, Nomara and Jidné continued their usual days for practice and instruction. The Padawan has made progress in utilizing her Force Shroud until she can now manipulate and bend it to her will. The eleven-year-old also found it thrilling and frightening at the same time—to be exposed to such degree of violence at this early a stage of her life.

“Run along now, little Jid,” the first clone tussled the girl’s head. “General Anesh is waiting for you. Best not to keep her waiting,”

“Right, see you guys later in my free time!”

Jidné hopped and skipped through the corridors of the Patriot until she found the specific room where she usually has her physical lessons with Master Anesh. She walked in on her master conversing with the clone accompanying them on the control room. The Padawan cleared her throat politely to call Nomara’s attention.

“Ah, Jidné, just in time,” Master Anesh cooed, gingerly dismissing the clone with a slow wave of the hand. “Are you ready for today’s practice?”

“Yes, Master Anesh,”

“Very good,” the Togruta turned to the terminal to press a pattern of buttons and then beckoned her Padawan. “Come now, my little one.”

The two of them descended from the control room for the ground level of the room via a turbolift. When they walked to the center of the room, Nomara held up a small remote in hand—with the single touch of a button, the tiles of the floor started to rise, take shape, hover and stick to the walls. The shifting and changing of the environment startled Jidné at first, but she got the hint.

“I didn’t know this room has that!” she beamed.

“It’s very conducive for using skills that you’ll often be utilizing in the battlefield,”

“I’m ready, Master!”

“I like your enthusiasm, Jidné,” Nomara smiled back. “Alright then, whenever you’re ready.”

Beginning with the physical exercises, little Jidné did her personalized set of stretches, she also studied the room—how it looked like, where the blocks are for her to take cover or use to her advantage—with a single passing glance before signaling her master to commence.

“Remember what I taught you, little one,”

“I always do, Master!”

The tile where Master Anesh elevated her until she stands in the same level as the control room, her pedestal remotely stayed in that height. Meanwhile, Jidné remained in the ground, her senses keening as she continues to study the structure of the room—given that the tiles and blocks can change at any given moment of Nomara’s command—while anticipating for her master’s starting signal.

Turrets unfolded from the ceiling of the room, their loud whirring alerted the girl, Nomara forewarned the girl that the guns were configured with non-lethal projectiles set for a training setting.

“Shall we begin, Jidné?”

The girl buckled, “Ready when you are, Master!”

Observing the Padawan scamper across the room, evading blaster fire here and there, Nomara can’t help but ponder to herself in her mind as she watched the girl skillfully evade and deflect the projectiles.

She has become more adept than I either hoped or imagine. That’s good. She’s learned to be strong and willful with the Force.

Her thinking led her to become off-guard of other thoughts. Out of the blue, the whistling noise the turrets made whenever they fire stimulated blurry images and incoherent sounds ringing in Nomara’s drums. She brought her hand to her head, massaging the base of her montral as she struggled to ease the sudden heaviness that she feels within her but couldn’t find.

—–

20 BBY, THE DAY OF THE JEDI PURGE

Jidné joined her master in the conference at the bridge comprised of the admiral manning the Patriot, real-time hologram projections of the Jedi Generals Plo Koon, Depa Billaba and her Padawan Caleb Dume joining the transmission. Jidné recognized Caleb as she has met him during a joint campaign with their masters; the two children smiled at one another upon finding each other in the conference.

The masters concurred in giving each other reinforcement if the need arises. Jidné intently studied the projections flashing in the holotable, reading the inscriptions and data numbers floating beside the diagrams of the weapons and map.

“May the Force be with us all,” Plo Koon bade, not out of custom but out of heart before his projection fizzled out of existence, followed by the other Jedi Masters and the other Padawan.

Nomara released a long sigh, she remained leaning by the edge of the table, her hand brought to her lip as she spaced out into deep thought. Jidné noticed this and didn’t disturb her until she opened her eyes again. The little girl wondered if the Togruta had the same thoughts she’s been having of late, she meant to disclose it to her master but they’ve been piled with tons of transmissions as the tension of the war rages on.

“There seems to be no end, does it, little one?”

“I suppose so, Master, but… We are doing a big help, aren’t we?”

The Togruta noticed the little girl’s tone to have mellowed but there’s a tinge of concern to it. Nomara places her hand gingerly on her dear Padawan’s head, stroking her hair down to her beaded Padawan braid.

“Yes, we are. It’s our job as peacekeepers to stop this kind of destruction from disturbing the planets who don’t deserve and need chaos,”

The master’s words did little to console the girl, despite managing a smile at the Togruta, the feeling of being downtrodden persisted within the young learner. Nomara then shepherded the child to the hangar where their starships await them. Along the way, Jidné didn’t seem to be herself lately.

“Your silence says a lot on your mind, child,”

Jidné jumped a bit, startled that her master pointed out her silence.

“Master, something doesn’t feel right. Please tell me you feel it, too,” it was unusual for Jidné to speak in a hushed tone, Nomara sensed the pang of worry that rung between the words of her Padawan.

She thought she had fully buried that worry into the recesses of her mind, but she was proven otherwise when the same heavy feeling returned to her—clutching and wrenching at her core. It was a bothersome feeling that she can’t exactly pinpoint… at least not yet.

“Yes, I have, my little Padawan. Although, much like yourself, I cannot seem to place my finger where it originates,”

Deploying from the underbelly of the Patriot, Nomara and Jidné’s starfighters led on a squadron of fighter pilots to the surface. The vessels dotted the sky in a crisp V-formation and circled the perimeter of the city in Modala, where thousands—if not hundreds—of battle droids were marching in organized blocks and columns, with the superweapon guarded in the middle of the formation.

“Cleaver, make sure you charge and prepare your ion cannons. We’re going to put that superweapon completely out of commission before it could reach the legislative building!” Nomara barked through her radio.

The fleet of fighters closed in on the surface, getting more range at the enemy by the minute. The droid army was alerted when their radars and scanners picked up a multitude of signatures coming from the Jedi’s fleet and their clones. The sight of their ships caused panic among the sentient, metal beanpoles that are the battle droids.

Nomara forewarned the entire fleet to disperse once the high-intensity ion cannon is fired. When the signal was given, all of the ships flew away from the blast radius that could disable their ships’ auxiliary and main power grids and made a running pass around the perimeter to find a safe landing spot.

“Prepare to continue this on land!”

Jidné licked her lips, a smug smirk curled on her face, “This is where the fun begins!”

The ground assault was tense. The flock of LAAT gunships assisted Nomara from the air, amplifying their firepower against the approaching droids and their superweapon.

Lightsaber in hand, both master and apprentice charged through the line of battle, deflecting blaster fire and cutting down the battle droids by the numbers until they could reach the building in the heart of the city.

The battle was won, but not the war. What seemed to be only hours felt like days, the Jedi and her Padawan have secured the legislative building as the Separatist general who hid in it willingly relinquished it after being arrested. Despite their victory today, Master Anesh could not shake the dark feeling that lingered within her heart.

“General Anesh,” a clone approached the pair to report, standing just behind Jidné. “We’ve made a sweep in the building. The captives and the guards have been freed and are taken to a medical ward in the city.”

“Very good news, please relay that to me later for my report to the Council,”

“Understood, General,” the captain erected his posture and saluted at the Togruta. He excused himself and was about to return to his post by the door, but in the middle of his walk, he answered an incoming transmission labeled as urgent.

Execute Order 66. Groaned an ancient, raspy voice through the muffled feedback of the clone trooper’s comlink.

The Togruta turned her attention to her little Padawan, overlooking the city through the window of the office space.

“Now that Modala’s been freed, are we going to give Master Plo or Master Billaba some reinforcements?”

“That still depends, my little one, we have yet to expect their transmiss—” Nomara abruptly left her sentence hanging, her hand instinctively went to the base of her montral, her fingers curling around the fullness of the horn to alleviate the aching but to no avail.

“Master, are you okay?” Jidné’s voice shuddered.

At the corner of her eye, Nomara spotted the clone aiming his rifle straight at the child’s head; the Padawan noticed the steely look in her master’s eyes and followed its direction, looking over her shoulder only to be face-to-face with the hole of a blaster’s barrel. Everything seemed move in slow motion, her heartbeat was the only thing ringing in her eardrums; the adrenaline sharpened her reflexes and senses, the Togruta brandished her saber, pushed the girl out of the line of fire and then cut down the clone. Jidné registered everything when the deed was done.

“Wha—what was that!? Was he gonna shoot me?! What’s going on?!” Jidné bombarded her master with question who was still recovering from the nausea.

“Jidné, something’s not right. Something’s very wrong,” Nomara panted. “Our clones have betrayed us. We need to leave this place. Now!”

“They’re in here!” the shout of a clone roared through the door, muffling his voice.

Nomara thought fast, she locked the door using the Force and laid out the escape plan to the girl as concisely as possible. However, they were cut short when one of the clones planted a sticky bomb to the door. The master and apprentice quickly cut down the clones that were coming after them, even after that run-in, neither of them withdrew their sabers.

“Where do we go from here?” Nomara thought out loud.

The Padawan peeked over the window again and saw that their starfighters were still intact.

“Master! Our starfighters!”

Both of them vaulted over the desk where they took cover, but before they could leave the room and run out into the open—with the risk of being chased by their clones—the Togruta grabbed Jidné by the shoulder and knelt to her Padawan’s height. Her plan was to split up—making herself live bait to lure out the clones so that Jidné can get to the ships safely. Of course, Jidné preferred sticking close with her master as much as possible, but Nomara tried to talk her into it.

“Whatever happens, you run. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” Jidné shuddered. Unable to contain her fear, she threw herself into Nomara’s arms and the Togruta embraced her Padawan in the tightest she could.

Master Anesh held the girl’s small face in her elegant hands, “Now, be brave. Don’t look back. I’ll be right with you. I promise.”

Jidné nodded, in turn, her master mouthed “Go” and the little Padawan girl bolted through the halls. Her legs carried her fast as they could, evading the clones whose senses are now on high-alert for both Jedi and Padawan. As much as she wanted to use her Force Shroud, the sheer levels of stress intervened with her focus—being able to only use it for a few minutes’ worth of running—when she felt that she’s re-materializing, she hugged the walls before turning around a corner to see if the coast was clear.

What went wrong? What changed? These questions screamed and ricocheted on the walls of her skull, and were answered by missed blaster fire and angry shouts of the clones, claiming that they’ve spotted the Jedi running.

“Where’s the little girl!?”

“She’ll come around, get the Jedi!”

Jidné crept to another path in the intersection, she was too busy focusing on the two clones who were in the corner that she didn’t notice the clone in the path where she’s heading into and bumped into his side. The clone was understandably startled, but upon sight of the Padawan, he swung his rifle and struck her across the face, a portion of the weapon had scraped the skin—producing a cut on her cheekbone.

The young Padawan was too frightened and confused to think fast, she crawled backwards—away from the Stormtrooper who was already aiming the barrel at her heart, until an indigo beam of light flew his way, cutting through his torso forward and then another when the lightsaber was spinning back to the direction of its owner.

“Jidné! Are you alright?!”

“Yes, Master Anesh!”

A clone appears out of the corner at the end of the hallway, “The Jedi and the little girl are here! Don’t let them escape!!!”

“This way, child! Come on!”

“Coming, Master!”

The two bolted through the grand, luxurious hallways now strewn with bodies of clones—both from the siege and their betrayal against the Jedi. The closer they think they’re getting to the exit where their starships are, the farther the clones push them in—cornering them into the building like mice in a maze.

Eventually, the clones have led them into the central foyer of the legislative building where they surround the master and her Padawan in a circle. This wasn’t part of Nomara’s plan, so she collected all of her might in her body—while praying to the Force to be with her—and then invisible yet torrential ripples exploded out of her hands, throwing the clones off of their feet and disorienting them. While there’s still a chance, before any of the clones could get back up on their feet again, both Jedi returned to following their original path.

“Keep up with me, Jidné!”

“I’m trying, Master!”

Finally! After losing their breath from evading the clones, the starships were in sight. The hope they thought was lost was regained. The two of them dashed out of the main entrance, the wake of destruction from the siege still ran fresh as smoke pillared to the heavens.

Just when they thought they’ve finally secured their escape, a line of troopers with an ARC Trooper in the middle stood in their way between the starships.

“Get behind me, little one!”

Jidné literally went back-to-back with Master Anesh, lightsaber in hand, and faced the direction of the main entrance anticipating the clones that the Togruta had disoriented using the Force. Not a moment later, the same clones from inside had reached them in the outer lobby.

“Jidné, I want you to do exactly as I say, do you hear me?”

“Yes, Master…”

Nomara spoke in the calmest of voices that Jidné has ever heard amidst the chaos, “Use your Shroud. Now.”

The Padawan’s eyes widened, partially with confusion and immense horror, she had a clue of what her master’s plan is. She didn’t like it—not a single bit.

“Jidné,” Nomara spoke calmly again, but the tone of her voice was hard and strict, so as to not give away their bluff to the troopers. The Togruta’s eye glanced to the side, looking at the frightened Padawan. “Now.”

The ARC Trooper, already trigger-happy, barked at his brothers, “Blast her!!”

“JIDNÉ, NOW!!”

“NOOOOOOOO….!!!!”

In the blink of an eye, Jidné felt like she was flying—and flying she was, Nomara had used the Force on the Padawan to send her out of the line of fire. Jidné only landed a feet away from the circle of clones with the Jedi in the center, deflecting and banking away their shots with the remainders of her strength. Obviously, it was too much for one exhausted Jedi to overpower a ring of fifteen or so clone troopers shooting at her from all directions. The little girl, unaware that she had absentmindedly activated her Force Shroud, witnessed the clone troopers—the other people she called her friends ever since this war began—pelt her master’s body with blaster fire.

Nomara, her body riddled with bullet holes through her armor and clothes, spotted little Jidné—in this instance, she was surprised to be able to see Jidné while the child was under the influence of the Force Shroud, she didn’t sought for the explanation, she was glad that her dear Padawan is unseen and unharmed, although it saddened her when their eyes met; never have Nomara ever seen the little girl so stricken with terror upon what she’s seeing.

As the final fulfillment of her promise—not to the mother anymore, but to the child albeit unspoken—Nomara called upon the Force, amplifying her the nearly-fluctuating energy within her. She pulled her arm back, fist clenched in the tightest that she could hold, and struck the soil hard—this wave was very much stronger than the last, the seismic magnitude of Nomara’s Force ability sent the clones literally flying. Some of the clones caught in the shockwave have died from a shattered spine or a cracked skull upon impact of a rock or the stone ground when they landed.

When the wave died down, Jidné is unscathed, though she’s left with the unfathomable degree of fear that her thirteen-year-old mind couldn’t wrap around. Nomara was still standing—however she’s clinging onto the last threads of dear life as she knows it. The Padawan scrambled up to her feet and caught her master before she could fumble near-dead to the soil.

“Master…” Jidné sobbed, cradling Nomara’s head on her lap.

“Jidné…” Nomara gasped, her vision already blurring and a black ring bordered her eyes.

“I’m here, Master…!”

The master hoists her weak hand to the Padawan’s cheek, her thumb ran across a tear streaming down the girl’s face. She choked as she struggled to speak.

“Jidné… you have to go…”

“No, I can’t leave you here!”

“Please… Jidné, more of them will be coming for you,” coughed Nomara, a tear rolled over her cheek. “Save yourself… Run!”

And with that final word, the bright, sparkling teal of Nomara’s eyes have turned milky and lifeless. Jidné couldn’t yet accept the reality of her master’s death, she shook the Togruta in a hopeless plea to wake up and there was no response. Nomara’s head bobbed limply in Jidné’s scrawny arms, the strand of beads fell from the montral headband and clattered to the dust. The girl picked it up and kept it in her pocket, regretting her decision of setting up a pyre for the deceased Jedi, seeing that this would alert the other clones who might still be looking for her.

Following her master’s final request, Jidné did run. Eventually, her running has brought her into the dense urban area of Modala, the entrance of her new life while leaving behind the one she has always known.

——————————————————–

CURRENT TIMELINE

“And ever since then, I survived Modala… somehow. But it still haunts me up to this day, I can’t seem to let go of it even if I wanted to,”

“We all have lost someone during the Jedi Purge. I know how hard it is to overcome the sadness,”

“Yeah… It’s just difficult to find more ways to cope,”

“How about making me vice president of cheering you up?”

Jidné turned her head to the boy. She chuckled, endeared by his child-like purity, a similar trait she has buried within the depths of her core, though she doesn’t realize that.

“Here, I got something for you,”

Cal produced a trinket strand similar to Jidné’s: a chain of Featherfern and Royal Fluzz buds—two for each—encased in transparent, glass beads. The Jedi girl admired the handiwork with wonderment.

“It’s a saber tassel like yours, I made it myself. My first gift as vice president of cheering you up,”

“It’s beautiful,” Jidné sighed, not wasting a second in tying it up along with her original tassel at the pommel.

She secured it with a tight double-knot, the new addition to her pommel dangled with the turquoise beads as she held it up in front of her and Cal. Finally, her tassel got prettier with the variety in color. She turned to the redhead and smiled warmly at him.

“Thank you… so much,”

“C’mere, you must be cold,” Cal cooed, lifting up his arm to open the sleeve of his poncho to offer his side to Jidné.

The girl scooted closer to the redhead’s side until his arm could wrap around her shoulder. She released what ought to be the biggest sigh to date, she felt her entire body soften up the moment Cal held her close, nuzzling his cheek against her head and curling his fingers tighter around her arm. For the first time in years, she felt safe.