#obi wan kenobi ff

[dracowars]

hello! i have had this scenario in my head for obi wan forever! little bit of background: reader and obi have been together for a while and the reader struggles a bit with her dark side. so the whole thing starts with obi and reader sleeping in bed when he has this kinda spicy dream about reader. she’s dressed up in a HAWT sith get up and is trying to get obi wan to join the dark side for her asking him if he loves her and please for me? in the dream he caves and nods not being able to say anything. when he wakes up he’s sweating and freaking out and is realizing he really would do it for her and it scares him but he’s more scared of losing her. sorry if that’s so long but i’ve spent so much time thinking about this🙃

her shadowed heart | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x sith!reader

word count: 1,3k

summary: where obi-wan gets seduced by the dark side

a/n: i love the dark side and i hope you enjoy this <3 feedback in any form is always appreciated!

warnings: angst, a bit creepy, mentions of blood

universe: star wars

Obi-Wan hears a quiet voice. He listens in more closely and finally realizes that the soft voice is saying his name. So soft, so tender, almost fragile. He listens to the whisper and opens his eyes, only to find that everything around him is black, complete and utter darkness surrounds him.

Turning in all directions, he tries to follow the warmth of the voice, but he can't see anything. His senses betray him. In fact, he does not feel anything.

"Obi-Wan", the voice says again, his name echoing around the darkness. "Come here, Obi-Wan."

As he turns in the direction of the voice again, he finally spots something in the distance, a faint light flickering. Carefully, he puts one foot in front of the other and the closer he gets to the light, the more he can make out the outline of something - of someone. The closer he gets, the darker the light becomes.

"Don't be afraid, Obi-Wan," he hears the gentle voice whispering inside his head, his focus on whatever lies in front of him now. I'm not afraid, he thinks.

He is now so close that he can see some kind of throne in front of him, a huge throne made of black stone, standing there like a fortress, completely indestructible. Taking one more step forward, he halts as he hears a silent splash. Looking down, he finds the throne being surrounded by a puddle of water.

"There you are at last, Obi-Wan. I've been waiting for you this whole time."

When he raises his eyes to look at the person sitting on the throne, his breath gets caught in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. With one leg thrown over the armrest, you look at him from elevated position, a gentle smile on your lips. Obi-Wan has to blink several times, reminding himself to breathe as his eyes focus on you. You look the same as always, somehow. But there is also something different about you. Your body is wrapped in a long black dress, with large slits on the sides that reveal the radiant skin of your thighs. The neckline of the dress is quite revealing, giving way to your cleavage, your collarbone. At your waist, the dress is held together by a corset with buckles and laces. The high heel boots peeking out from under your dress reflect the light. On your head sits a crown, jet black, with a shining ruby ​​in the middle.

"Y/N?", Obi-Wan hears himself ask in the distance, swallowing the lump in his throat. "What is going on? Where are we?"

"It doesn't matter now that you are finally here", you smile at him, your eyes sparkling. Obi-Wan watches as you get up, walking down the few steps from the throne until you stand in front of him. He looks into your eyes, mesmerized, but for some reason he does not find the warmth in them that he usually does. A cold shiver runs down his spine when your long, pointed nails stroke up his arm.

"You love me, don't you, Obi-Wan?", you suddenly ask in a whisper, leaning into his ear as you start circling him, your palm sliding over his back.

"Of course I do, you know I do", he answers, standing rigidly in one place. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't move. It is as if you had trapped him, and yet he doesn't feel helpless, he's not afraid. After all, you are with him.

"I know, but I don't know how much", you giggle behind his back and step out on the other side, your hand now reaching for his face. Once there, you place your ice-cold hand on his cheek and where your skin meets, Obi-Wan suddenly feels a burning warmth. "Tell me how much you love me, Obi-Wan."

"My love for you is so much bigger than the entire galaxy", he tells you vehemently, leaning into your pleasant touch as he looks at you. "Words can't describe how much I love you. I would do anything for you."

"Anything?"

"Anything."

Your face is right in front of him and upon his answer, your beautiful eyes are suddenly glowing in an eerie red. One corner of your mouth lifts, as if he gave you exactly the answer you have been hoping and waiting for.

"Oh Obi-Wan," you say softly, sliding your hand down his neck. Obi-Wan places his hand on top of yours, your eyes locking. "Will you join me?"

"Join you?", he asks, frowning but with a smile on his lips. You shake your head, smiling to yourself, and run your other hand through his soft hair, loosening a strand that then hangs in front of his face.

"On the dark side", you whisper and Obi-Wan's heart suddenly starts racing. Frightened, he looks in your eyes, searching for any sign that you aren't serious, but all he finds is darkness.

"Please. You said you would do anything for me", you remind him, intertwining your hands. "Please do it for me, Obi-Wan."

His head is screaming at him, that this goes against everything he stands for, what he fights for, and he can't keep a straight thought. But his heart, his goddamn heart, is louder, drawing him to you and he knows he can't say no to you. So he caves.

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he places a kiss on the back of your hand, as befits a queen.

"I will join you."

Laughter rings out around you, disgusting, spiteful laughter that painfully rings in his ears. Staggering back, he finds it difficult to breathe and you let go of his hand, your eyes red and the veins beneath them bloodshot. The veins on your neck stand out, your face turns pale and your skin turns black from your neck down. A tear escapes your eye, but it is made of blood. Before Obi-Wan knows what is happening, your hand gently rests on his chest.

For a moment he feels hope. He feels safe. But then you push him back forcefully, so that he falls backwards, into the water. Only it is not water, but blood.

The last thing he sees is his outstretched hand, trying to reach for you. In vain.

Gasping for air loudly, Obi-Wan sits up, breathing heavily as he finally feels air filling his lungs again. He is sweating, his hair disheveled and he can't think clearly. All he sees is you. Helplessly, he presses his hands into his eyes, trying to banish the images from his head while he slightly rocks back and forth.

A quiet sob escapes him as he hears your quiet breathing next to him. Freeing himself from the blanket that is trapping him, he bends over to your sleeping figure, slumbering away peacefully. Obi-Wan reaches out his hand, wanting to touch you immediately to reassure himself that you are there, that you are you. But just before his fingertips can reach your skin, he stops. He doesn't dare touch you.

What if he had a vision? A vision of what the future could look like. And he didn't even bat an eyelid when you asked him to join him on the dark side.

He wasn't lying when he said he would do anything for you, and that newly found certainty scares him to death. He knows how much you have been struggeling with the dark side. And in his dream, he allowed it to corrupt you. Corrupt him.

Finally he forces himself to shut off his mind and touches you gently, not too much since he does not want to wake you up. But your warm skin is a welcome contrast to the cold he feels, and he strokes your arm gently. He takes a closer look at you and can't find anything unusual. He just finds what he always finds: warmth.

And although this visibly calms him down, he can't shake the fear that he might lose you one day. That you will step out of the light and into the darkness.

In that moment, Obi-Wan makes a promise to himself.

If you enter the darkness, he will follow.

[thecleverqueer]

I’ve mentioned this before, but it bares repeating because it really bothers me…

Why can’t Obi-Wan and Ahsoka see Anakin and Vader as one person? Like, the cognitive dissonance of it all… and they do see Anakin and Vader as two separate people… somehow.

I THOUGHT Ahsoka got it. I thought she’d finally accepted that, but no… she’s still on her bullshit.

Your master was an asshole. A harbinger of doom. He damned the Galaxy. He performed multiple genocides, and personally slaughtered children. He did stand by you for a minute, yes, but ultimately, he attempted to murder you and would have if you didn’t have a god-bird that coaxed force sensitive teenagers into a space/ time portal to bail your ass out.

Maybe we need to stage an intervention between Ahsoka, Obi-Wan and the Tuskin Raiders so that they can tell their story. Oh. Right, they’re still dead.

[prahacat]

The Drowning - an Obi-Wan-centric merpeople au about grief, family, deep-sea horrors and environmentalism

star wars prequels & the clone wars | gen | 60k, complete

characters: Obi-Wan, Dooku, Ahsoka

Summary: They have always lived in the reef, hidden in the sea, safe from the unsuspecting land-dwellers. This was their home. But the world is changing. The sharks disappear, the corals lose their colors, and one day, a ship comes to the reef. Obi-Wan would do anything to protect those he calls family. But where do you turn when the world is closing in around you left and right?

Read the complete fic on AO3!

[kazoosandfannypacks]

Kiss Me (Obitine drabble)

requested by anon

Obi-Wan wondered if Satine could sense the tension in the balcony air as much as he did.

"The order's reassigning us." Obi-Wan said.

"I know." Satine said. "There's no reason for you to stick around anyways"

But she would've been reason enough.

"Master Jinn told me to say my farewells now."

"Then say them."

But instead of speaking, he let himself act out of impulse- for the only time in his life- responding by giving Satine a hug.

She returned his embrace and whispered. "I'll never forget you."

And with a gentle kiss on the forehead, he let her go.

(a/n and tags under cut)

a/n: This fic is based on this song! I hope this was as fun for you guys to read as it was for me to write!

tagging uhhhhhh @accidental-spice @kanerallels @silverpaintedstars sure i think you guys like obitine

send me a ship and a song and i'll write a drabble!

[scottysketches]

I pivoted -- I saw this promo photo of Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen from Revenge of the Sith and decided to use it as a reference for my cover image for Don't Dream It's Over. (I'm still working on the original idea, but I want to take my time with it.) Really pleased with how this one came out, especially the blue highlights from the lightsaber and the greys in Obi-Wan's hair and beard.

I'm also reviving my Ko-fi account for the podfic version of this story and all my future writing, so if you're able to then feel free to buy me a coffee :)

[nerdyperday]

Day 2581 Crosstober 8: Tidus as Obi-Wan Kenobi

[mattzerella-sticks]

fated. (ao3 link)

While milling about the halls of Kamino's military complex, Kote had overheard a transmission his Prime had taken that would take him off-planet and into the heart of the Republic on Coruscant. The Republic, the very organization Kote and his brothers had been created to protect but hadn't had the chance, yet, because no one had come for them. The Kaminoans promised them that it would be soon, but every year that passed he and his brothers lost more and more faith their time would come.

Kote decided that he was tired of waiting.

He took initiative, like he'd been trained to, and snuck aboard Prime's ship so he could demand an audience with the Republic and tell them of the army they had waiting for them back on Kamino.

Of course, there are problems with executing his plan.

           It rained extraordinarily less here than it did on Kamino. Kote schooled his features to keep the wonderment off his face lest he drew any unwanted attention to himself, but he couldn’t keep his gaze from flicking upwards every couple of clicks with the expectation that he’d spy storm clouds brewing overhead signaling an end to Coruscant’s dry weather. He was proven wrong with every glance. Kote was happy being wrong if it meant he could enjoy the outdoors even longer.

           He continued wandering the crowded streets as he searched for any indication he was heading in the right direction. Kote was unfamiliar with the city’s layout and hadn’t asked for directions from any of the civilians he passed. His plans would be for naught if he was recognized by simply asking the wrong person where to go. Instead he relied on his instincts to guide him where he needed to be. They had gotten him this far, aiding him as he snuck off his home planet, maintaining cover throughout his entire voyage as a stowaway and, most recently, escaping the ship he'd been on without discovery. Kote wasn’t one who normally put his faith in such unpredictable things. Yet he hadn’t been shown his faith was misplaced. Hopefully, it never was.

           Kote came upon an intersection with the intention of turning right. However, at the last second, he decided to pause before he hit the corner. His instincts had flared warningly and told him to do so. He scanned his surroundings, searching for the reason why he stopped.

           Suddenly a pod of young cadets raced by where he would have been standing. They were playing, chasing after the lead boy who held a miniature spacecraft in his hand that he piloted terribly. Kote drew his cloak tighter around himself as a few of them rushed past closer than he liked. It was better than being trampled. The cadets hurried along, crossing the street and disappearing into the mingling crowd one after the other until the slowest of them jumped between a couple of Twi’leks and an Ithorian and vanished. As they did, so did the alarm in Kote’s head.

           He still hadn’t moved.

           Kote stared at where the cadets were and was caught in a nostalgia trap, remembering when he had been at a similar age. He and his batchmates liked to pretend they were flying in outer space, too. Except they never had any miniatures like them. Kote, his batchmates, and all his brothers within the compound ran flight simulations based around archival data from old skirmishes in preparation for their duties as soldiers. Immature handling of a craft like he’d seen from that batch’s leader would have gotten him a fierce reprimand from his trainers and the Kaminoans or, if it had been on an actual battlefield, killed. Kote doubted any of those cadets were aware of this fact as he was.

           Unlike him, those cadets were not raised to know. They shouldn’t have to, either.

           He shook himself free of the past with that last thought. Kote could not let himself be distracted now that he had already come so far. He was a man with a mission. And, like he’d been taught, he swallowed down the tempting bitterness that cloyed in the back of his throat and marched forward with renewed determination.

           Republic business waited for no man, especially if that man was a clone.

           Kote weaved an uncertain path through the streets of Coruscant. Though he walked blindly, a strong warmth had settled deep within his chest that inspired an odd sense of confidence within him. A voice, somewhat reminiscent of his Prime, whispered in his ear. Kote was nearly convinced it was his Prime save for the manner in which the voice spoke. While it had Prime’s timbre and pitch, the cadence was completely off. The voice sounded too dull to be Prime’s, who was known for his sharp and caustic tongue. When the voice said, ‘you are almost there’ the sentence didn’t cut. Its words wrapped around his spirit and sent a dizzying thrill across his body. It was then Kote realized he wasn’t hearing those words. They had come from some place deep inside him.

           Kote ground his teeth around a curse. A few days without his batch and he was already starting to go mad, hearing voices���

           He slowed regardless of how the voice urged him further onwards. ‘A few more steps’. Kote spun in a mad circle, catching his breath as he surveyed the area. It didn’t look like an area suitable for politics.

           The massive crowds had thinned to a few stragglers who didn’t hide their suspicions about him. They were dispersed amongst the buildings in sparse clusters and had a more noticeably rougher edge to them. The buildings, too, seemed less shiny than what he had seen previously. It was dark on the other side of their transparisteel, enough that he could see his reflection clearly if there wasn’t a glowing neon tumor fixed somewhere above.

           He didn’t linger on his face. Vanity wasn’t encouraged where he’d been raised.

           His eyes were on all the others’ reflections. Part of his covert operations training involved watching without being caught. This way, if he noticed an unfriendly face sneaking his way, he could strike first. The element of surprise was necessary since he hadn’t any weapons on him. His armor was supposed to withstand a lot of fire and blows, but there was no practical data to back these claims. It hadn’t been tested in actual combat. He didn’t plan on acquiring that information first-hand.

           Kote pulled the hood of his cloak lower over his head and marched at a slower pace than he had before.

           He took great pains to ignore the voice he’d been hearing as it wasn’t making any sense. Every attempt at silencing it made the voice louder. Every shove against it was met with an equal response that made him wince in the aftermath. Kote broke from his surveillance to wipe at his eyes with a tired fist as the latest battle with the voice was like trying to move a freighter-class ship using only his forehead. Because he wasn’t looking where he’d step, Kote’s foot landed on a foreign object that almost made him lose his balance.

           The voice cried out again. Kote was doubly sure it couldn’t be his Prime since he doubted Prime would ever sound so melodic.

           Luckily, loud as it had been, the voice didn’t utter another note after its short song.

           Kote sighed in relief. His pain began to ebb away since the voice wasn’t taking up all the space in his mind. He blinked back into awareness soon enough. Kote stepped off of the foreign object once he had his bearings and peered down at it. Its cylindrical shape was familiar to him. He crouched for a better look, scooping the object up into his hand to study it from all angles. It was as he recognized the shape to be of a hilt that Kote identified the object in his hands.

           It was a lightsaber.

           Like with most things, Kote never had the experience of seeing a lightsaber with his own eyes. He knew the basics of it. Battle strategies involving lightsabers were downloaded into his head, both for fighting with and against. The Kaminoans even taught him about those who could wield lightsabers.

           The files on them weren’t as robust as he would have liked, but there were a few important facts contained within.

           Firstly, that they – or rather, one of their members – had commissioned the Kaminoans to build an army that led to Kote’s creation. Secondly, wherever there is a lightsaber, its wielder should not be far behind.

           “Excuse me. I believe that what you’re holding there belongs to me.”

           Kote knew that this new voice wasn’t imaginary like the last. He had never heard it, nor an accent like it. The notion that he enjoyed how this new voice spoke, how he wouldn’t mind hearing it speak more, crossed his mind and confused Kote greatly. It was the first time he’d ever found a voice to be pleasant and didn’t know what to do with this information.

           “Sir?”

           He was drawing too much attention to himself by not responding. Kote had to act quickly. His grip on the lightsaber tightened as he rose to full height. The voice had come from behind him, so he spun on his heel with trained precision and faced the lightsaber wielder.

           None of his years on Kamino prepared him for this.

           “Hello,” the wielder said, smiling at Kote as if he were another one of his brothers. Except Kote’s brothers’ smiles never inspired such strange and precise reactions within him. “It looks like you’ve found my lightsaber.”

           “Hnn.”

           Kote was trained for war in any terrain, but he was unable to handle the battlefield that used to be his body. His face warmed to a significant degree like he’d been in the midst of an intensive exercise. Kote’s chest stuttered as if it couldn’t remember how to breathe, and his heart had lost the careful pattern of its beat and couldn’t reclaim it. There was a desire to take this new man in his hands, like he had done with the lightsaber, and observe him every which way until Kote knew him as if it were his own. Already Kote catalogued the waviness his gingery hair and beard, the softness of blue gaze, the slim build hidden beneath flimsy armor, and, as he already mentioned, the man’s amazing smile.

           Kote had been warned that those who wielded lightsabers were capable of other tricks that could confound their enemies. Was this one of them?

           No. For some reason, Kote didn’t believe it was. Though it meant his inner turmoil went unexplained.

           He would have to leave it that way, as his silence went on for far too long. The other man’s smile started to dim. Kote hated that he was the cause of it.

           “Here,” he said. His hand shot forward rigidly as he presented the lightsaber to its wielder. “Take it.”

           “…Thank you.”

           The lightsaber wielder reaches out hesitantly for his weapon, his stare unblinkingly turned onto Kote as he moved. Their fingers brushed during the exchange, and it required every ounce of willpower Kote had to not cling to the lightsaber because he’d been touched by someone who wasn’t his brother. He thought to himself that he was acting like a fool. Kote was wearing gloves. Their skin hadn’t made contact. Why would he think this simple act was that important? Why did he believe, had he not been wearing gloves, it would have been worse?

           Kote’s empty hand hung in the air between them as the lightsaber wielder clipped his weapon onto his belt. Belatedly, Kote realized how useless his hand was just floating there. He dropped it back to his side.

           “You know, I can’t begin to tell you the number of times I’ve dropped this…”

           It was an unnecessary comment to make. For some reason, the lightsaber wielder thought to continue their conversation far past its logical conclusion.

           Kote blinked at him as he struggled to respond. Improvisation wasn’t his strongest suit. “You should be more careful then,” he told the other man. “A weapon like that could easily wind up in some enemy combatant’s hands at some point, statistically speaking. And without your only means of offense and defense, you’d be dead.”

           He observed how the lightsaber wielder’s eyes widened a fraction of an inch in a manner that sent ripples across his placid expression. Kote gathered that he might have been too blunt, critiquing how he managed his weapons despite never holding a lightsaber before today. Usually that had never bothered Kote back on Kamino. In this instance, Kote wished he could strike what he had said from the record. Or for the ground to open beneath his feet and swallow him whole. Whichever was the most plausible, and fastest.

           “Right.” The lightsaber wielder was too kind as he still entertained Kote after his verbal gaffe. He arched his brow and stroked his beard. His smile had returned. “Well, maybe if I’m lucky the only hands my lightsaber will end up in other than mind own is yours.” Those words caused the wielder to react in a certain manner as well, tripping over himself in apology. “Or rather,” he amended, “hands that are like yours.”

           Kote relaxed. It seemed like the wielder was aware of his brothers, then, and what they had been made to do. Which made it easier for Kote to ask him, “If you don’t mind, I could use your help.”

           “Of course.” He was glad to move past their bout of awkwardness much like Kote was. “What do you need?”

           He allowed a tiny smile to crack his regimented expression. “I’ve been trying to find my way to the Republic’s Main Building, and I believe I might be lost.”

           The wielder’s gaze travelled from left to right as he leaned closer, conspiratorially. “You are correct. We are far from where the Senate conducts their business.”

           But why were his instincts ordering him here? That was a question for a different day. Kote stayed on task, “Do you happen to know how I can get there?”

           “I do.”

           Kote listened intently as the lightsaber wielder provided detailed directions on how he could reach the Galactic Senate from where he was. He also offered up ancillary information like its hours of operation, whose office he could petition for an audience, lodgings near the Senate for him to stay in and – once Kote mentioned how he hadn’t a single credit to his name – the location of his base that always had bunks at the ready for those in need.

           The wielder had been explaining the distance between his base and the Senate, using a holographic map of Coruscant as an aid, when they were interrupted by an incoming transmission.

           His map disappeared and was replaced with a tinier man in similar uniform as the wielder. He was noticeably sterner than his contemporary but, if Kote were to guess, he was the younger of the two.

           “Master,” the younger man said, “where are you? I believe I’ve tracked the assassin heading back towards Senator Amidala’s apartment.”

           “I was a little sidetracked reclaiming my lost lightsaber, Anakin,” he said. “I’ll reconvene with you at the apartment. May the Force be with you.”

           “And with you, Master.” The transmission had ended there.

           Kote stared at the other man in concern as he weighed what the younger wielder had said in his mind. “You’re in the midst of an operation,” he said, “yet you’re helping me out? Why?”

           The lightsaber wielder chuckled and laid a supportive hand against his shoulder. They were separated by his cloak, pauldron, and the thick, black bodysuit he wore under his armor. Kote was keenly interested in how delicately the wielder’s fingers curled and the heat it inspired beneath his skin. “I couldn’t very well have continued my duties without my lightsaber,” he told Kote, “It’s only right that I help you after you’ve helped me.”

           “Oh…”

           Kote catalogued his delight at hearing the wielder admit how helpful he was to him. It was what he had been made for. He was thrilled to have served well, even if it had been as small a task as weapon retrieval. Kote had to start somewhere. However, besides that, there was another emotion Kote couldn’t name that existed along the boundaries of his earlier delight. It was similar to it though wholly different. The closest Kote came to understanding it was the fact that its happiness wasn’t born out of an accomplished mission but rather because the lightsaber wielder had recognized his usefulness.

           He liked it a lot.

           “I’m glad to have been of service.” Then, as the lightsaber wielder began to turn away from him, he hurriedly called out after him. “I’m… Kote.”

           The lightsaber wielder glanced back at him, smiling. He waved as he continued striding off towards his next destination. “And I am Obi-Wan Kenobi!” he replied, “It was a pleasure to meet you Cody! May the Force have our paths cross again.”

           “It’s Kote, actually…” Obi-Wan had fled by then, and his name was swallowed up by the silence.

           Cody wasn’t much different from the name he had chosen for himself. “Cody…” It didn’t sound sweet like Obi-Wan said it, but Kote thought it nice all the same. He wouldn’t object to being called it, especially if it were Obi-Wan doing so.

           Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan.

           The lightsaber wielder had taken too much of his time, and his focus. Kote had his mission, and much like Obi-Wan’s, it demanded his attention. He couldn’t be distracted, now that he was so close.

           “You shouldn’t be here.”

           Kote heard Prime’s voice again. Only it hadn’t been soft and blunt like it was earlier, nor did it come from within. It had been spat out by the source and stabbed into Kote’s chest.

           He staggered and slumped over sideways as his Prime loomed over him, decked menacingly in his full besk’ar. “No,” he gasped, “I… how did you…”

           “You are one bad clone.”

           Kote’s last thought wasn’t of Obi-Wan. It was of the boot crashing into his face and knocking him unconscious.

[mandogab]

Parenthood [one-shot]

“Auntie!” Sevi-Bo squealed, running towards her as fast as her little legs would allow. Obi-Wan giggled, coming over to them as Bo-Katan grabbed the little girl and lifted her up. The two-year-old laughed out loud, stretching her hands towards her hair. She was fascinated by the  colour and loved touching it.

“Sevi, don't pull Aunty's hair,” Obi-Wan told her, helping Bo free her from his daughter's hands.

✦

Yes, I know I haven't written anything in ages, but I came up with a sweet idea and I'm going to write it for you! You'll get to know some of my favourite OCs!!!

[falconfeather23435]

So I did a thing yesterday

[briika-mereel]

But imagine them in an AU where the Republic doesn't fall, and he ends up training her. And is constantly confronted by this little mirror image of Anakin, but with the forgiveness and grace and *reasoning* of Padme. And the mental gymnastics and occasional physical gymnastics he has to do to keep up with this child of two of the best people he knows, and how he curses it but she's an absolute gem of a human being and he knows it and sees it and is so proud.

OBI-WAN KENOBI (2022), Part VI

[dracowars]

Hi love! Could I request an obi Wan X reader where it’s late at night and he finds her reading in a library and he joins her?

peaceful | obi-wan kenobi

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader

word count: 0,6k

summary: where obi-wan joins y/n in the library

a/n: enjoy <3

warnings: mentions of war

universe: star wars

With your face bathed in a soft bluish glow, you scroll through the pages of the holobook that sits on your lap, only reading the titles of each chapter to see if there is anything relevant to you. Sitting with your legs crossed, you lean against the back of the armchair, which is located right by a large round window and has recently become your new favorite spot. It is only here that you can finally rest, letting your mind wander, and enjoy the rain gently pattering against the window, hiding the dark and busy city beyond.

Coruscant never sleeps and, apparently, neither do you. Especially not these last few days, considering you only have one day left until you embark on one of your longest and probably most dangerous missions so far. For this reason, you try to acquire as much knowledge about the planet and its habitat and inhabitants as you can in the short time since the Jedi Council gave you the instructions.

It is always hard to keep your cool in times of war, but it is moments like these when you can just sit here in the Jedi archives, alone, thinking about everything and nothing. For some inexplicable reason, it gives you a sense of security. The mission will probably cost you the last of your strength, but the end of the Clone Wars is in sight, and if this single mission can bring you a little closer to the end, then you will do just that. Giving your all and fighting for your values, for what is right.

Your eyes get caught on a chapter you find useful, and it is only when you change your sitting position that you suddenly feel a change in your surroundings. You do not even have to look up to know he is here.

"Still out and about at this hour?", you tease him, carefully putting the book aside before looking at him because let's face the truth, you can't take your eyes off of him for more than a few seconds. As soon as you do look at him, however, your heart aches in your chest.

The man in front of you has seen a lot of terrible things in this war and it only makes you want to end it even quicker. His hair is disheveled, probably from tossing and turning back and forth for hours to get his well-deserved sleep, which was obviously not granted to him in the end. Obi-Wan only returned to Coruscant today after being sent out to Kamino for several days, and has to leave again tomorrow, with you. Which is why you made it your task to spare him as many difficulties as possible, dealing with the necessary information intensely.

"I knew I would find you here", is his answer as he sits down on the armchair next to you, a small smile on his lips as he can't help himself but to softly run his hand over your head. "And before you tell me to leave and get some sleep: I can't."

"I know", you respond sadly, only knowing too well how it feels to run on low fuel and still not being able to fall asleep, letting the misery of this galaxy behind. Grabbing his hand, you push your palm against his before closing your fingers around it, squeezing lightly.

Reaching over you with his other hand, Obi-Wan grabs another holobook that you have carefully searched out a few hours ago, leaning back in his seat. But not before placing a soft kiss on your hair, whispering 'I'm proud of you' along the way.

Your heart painfully beats for this man. You know that all of this, everything you have build up, can be over tomorrow, and yet he does not disturb the peace you have built around here. He fades in perfectly and, with your hands intertwined, reads on, the soft glow illuminating his beautiful face.

You can't wait for all of this to be over. Because once it is, you will finally make him yours. And he will finally make you his.

[prahacat]

Bend, Break

It's been three days since Dooku saved his life, and all Obi-Wan can do now is push until they break. Continuation of Brush, Bend, an AU where Obi-Wan and Dooku desert in favor of exploring their weird, obsessive relationship dynamic. This also (very liberally) fills my Obi-Wan x Dooku YOTP2023 December prompt "moving in together". cw: (mild) sexual content, mentions of abuse and violence. 3k words.

The black clouds hang so low, Obi-Wan can almost split them with the tip of his blade. Not much longer now and it will rain. An icy wind whistles across the bare plains, where nothing, no trees, no grass, breaks through the volcanic rock. Obi-Wan lifts his saber and swings it in a flurry of swift strikes. Far away, the horizon flashes red and orange below the crushing mass of clouds. He slashes at empty air until sweat soaks through his tunic and drips into his eyes, until he is trembling and breathless, and the first cold raindrops pat against the back of his neck.

When he looks up, the lone figure watching him from the terrace turns and melts into the shadows.

Obi-Wan lowers his lightsaber, and the blade, purple like a dying star, extinguishes in a hiss and crackle.

They haven't been warm for days. The ruins offer hardly any protection against the harsh climate, or against each other. What remains of the collapsed tower nestles between the basalt rocks and the leaden sky, and it's cold inside, always too cold; in the morning, a silver sheen of frost covers their blankets. But there is no point in leaving. Out here, on this bleak hunk of a planet, nobody looks for them.

Obi-Wan mounts the hewn stone steps into the room that was once, presumably, the tower’s main hall. Time has chipped away the golden mica on the ornamental carvings, and the ceiling painting has faded beyond recognition. The fireplace takes up most of the back wall, a black mouth spitting sparks and soot. Apart from them, the sole guest who visits is the wind: it barges in through the broken terrace doors, fans the flames, and tugs at Dooku's cloak before it lets up when he doesn’t react. He stands like a statue below the arcades that frame the terrace, his back turned toward Obi-Wan as he stares somewhere into the far distance. Black sheets of rain now curtain off the world beyond.

Obi-Wan slips out of his clammy boots and wiggles his bare toes. Frozen, numb. "Have you eaten yet?"

A cup and a half-empty bottle of wine sit on the table, the glass fogged up with the cold. They look lost among the few pieces of equipment they have salvaged from their ship and arranged into a makeshift command center. Two datapads, the map, a radio—and the encrypted com that has been silent for nearly seventy hours.

Dooku watches the clouds churn and flash along the horizon. "An electromagnetic storm." His voice, though quiet, echoes through the cold hall. "Communication is out. No signal penetrates these clouds."

"She'll find a way to contact us." Obi-Wan throws a broken chair leg into the fire. Ventress is more loyal than he will ever be, a relief as much as it is an inconvenience, and Obi-Wan wonders whether that knowledge doesn't also pester Dooku in quiet, calm hours such as these. "We should eat something. She'd make me berate you if she were here. Let me warm some soup—"

"Leave me."

Slowly, Obi-Wan rises to his feet.

Dooku's back remains turned. Obi-Wan listlessly regards the bottle. "The wine won't help with the pain." But Dooku ignores him with a stubbornness that annoys Obi-Wan more than any rudeness would. He drapes his drenched cape over the mantelpiece. Steam rises as the wool begins to dry. Dooku stares at the storm in stony silence, and Obi-Wan thinks: I could grab the bloody ship, I could fly off and leave you stranded here, but it'd never make you stare at the sky like this, longing for me to come back. He wipes the damp hair from his forehead. "There's no need to worry yet. If the Jedi had captured her, we would know. They would make demands or try to negotiate."

"If the Confederacy had captured her, we would know as well," Dooku says dryly. "We would be under attack already."

"You think Ventress would betray our location?"

"The Confederacy has recently invested considerable resources in the development of new torture droids.”

Obi-Wan rounds the table and joins Dooku below the arcades. "Maybe we should move." His gaze lingers on Dooku's side, but the dark tunic covers any hint of bandages. "How is your wound?"

"Fine." But there's not much privacy when you've been stuck together for three days between walls that no longer have ceilings. In this hollow tower, Obi-Wan can always hear the whisper of Dooku's tired footsteps somewhere, and it's only late at night that he catches him leaning against walls and archways, resting his weight, letting go. This morning, Obi-Wan saw Dooku hunched over the edge of his bed, eyes closed, the hazy light melting on his face, one hand pressed against his stomach as if he was afraid of tearing and falling apart as soon as he stood up.

There's a feverish shine to his eyes now.

Without thinking, Obi-Wan says, "The Jedi would help us."

"The Jedi." Dooku grimaces. The wind has tousled his hair and a few stray strands fall into his eyes. "Always the Jedi. And what do you expect the Jedi to give us? Forgiveness? A pardon for your crimes? Pity and a bowl of hot soup?"

"Protection, I should imagine," Obi-Wan says. "They would at least see to Ventress' safety."

"You are willing to trade her safety for our freedom?"

"What freedom? All we do is run." He gazes out into the pouring rain. In the distance, the mountain peaks float above a sea of darkness. "We have no allies, no supporters. A temporary truce with the Jedi would grant us some respite at least, and a place to lie low. Ventress could reunite with us at the Temple. Once we know she is unharmed, it will be easier to decide on a course."

"So it is Ventress who worries you?" Dooku turns toward him. "Or do you seek to save your own hide?" His black cloak parts and flows like dark, heavy water that Obi-Wan needs only to step into to wash away what remains of him. He wants to. "Bravery and dedication," Dooku says, "those qualities come easy when you believe to be backed by the establishment. But only those who are not afraid to fend for themselves will bring about actual change in this galaxy."

Obi-Wan scoffs. "As if you ever knew what it meant to fend for yourself, Dooku. You only ever made a move when you had something to cushion your leap: a new, comfortable life as a Count, your wealth, your armies, Palpatine's protective hand. Now you have lost all of it and look where it got you. Ex-leader of the Separatists and disgraced Count of Serenno, hiding in a drafty—"

Dooku grabs him by the neck and yanks him close. "Don't insult my intelligence, Obi-Wan," he says, his voice low. His thumb digs into the soft skin behind Obi-Wan's ear. The smell of burnt wood and thunderstorms clings to his cloak; the fabric rustles against the length of Obi-Wan's thigh. He's right here, and Obi-Wan touches his wrist, allowing his fingers to slide into the warmth below the sleeve, where Dooku's pulse is thumping as fast as his.

"I know what you are after," Dooku whispers.

Do you, Obi-Wan wonders, and the thought sends a sudden rush of heat through his body: want; fear.

"It would be such a relief for you if I swallowed your bait." Dooku tightens his grip on his hair and pulls Obi-Wan's head back to gaze down into his face like Obi-Wan once saw a butcher do with a nerf calf to inspect its teeth. "If I took the choice from you and dragged you back to everything you betrayed." This is how he used to hold Obi-Wan after frying or strangling him with the Force, but as the cruelty has grown rare, so have the caresses. Obi-Wan leans in, and the sharp tug at the back of his head eases.

"How you dream of liberation," Dooku murmurs. "You cannot bring yourself to break free from your torn existence. Freedom scares you, but misery has become a familiar comfort. How do you want to cope without it? You are truly lost, Obi-Wan."

"Then so are you, considering we're stuck in the same place." Obi-Wan presses his nails into the tendons on Dooku's wrist.

Dooku smiles and lowers his eyes. The fire pours a river of gold over the left side of his face. "I've seen the color of your blade," he says softly. Obi-Wan feels his touch on his belt, fingers brushing the hilt resting at his thigh. His skin tingles, but he keeps his eyes on Dooku's face, watches the flames paint strange blue shadows along the sharp lines of his nose and under his lashes. "What a shame your lightsaber no longer knows what it is supposed to be," Dooku says, but he can't even begin to imagine how terribly wrong he is. It's not misery Obi-Wan can't do without, but this: the feeling of being hollow and porous, so close to all these fleeting, liquid secrets; gold and shadows and melting light, and Dooku's blood pounding against his fingers.

Outside, rain and wind battle for possession of the tower, for this whole rotten, forsaken planet.

Obi-Wan lays his hand flat on Dooku's chest, pressing against the half-moon scar and his heart: strong and steady, but chained to its own obsessions. Dooku's face is a mask, unmoving except for his slowly drooping eyelids, like he is about to fall asleep. Idly, Obi-Wan brushes the moisture from his cloak. Dooku's body simmers under his palm: warmer than the fire. "The state of my lightsaber doesn't concern me as much as the state of your mind, Dooku," Obi-Wan says. "You've already lost everything. What is left that you're so afraid of losing that you growl and raise your hackles?"

Dooku sighs and lifts his gaze to the vault where nothing is left of the murals that must have once depicted gods and creatures, men and beasts, floating in the skies and glimmering like golden stars. He closes his eyes as if the sight gives him a headache. His grip on Obi-Wan's hair loosens and he caresses it with his fingers instead, carefully combing down the wet strands Obi-Wan is sure stick up in every direction. Dooku bends down toward him; and something caves and swells inside Obi-Wan's chest when Dooku presses his mouth against his sweat-damp forehead. "What you did three days past, during our attempt to seize the droid factory," he hears Dooku murmur into his skin, and his voice floods Obi-Wan like ice water, "you will never do that again."

(What part of it? The taste of Dooku's blood, the smell of his skin, rust and sunlight, and his eyes: wide and dark like liquid amber? The cold tingle of Bacta, the rustle of the gauze? Dooku's limp weight and the faint thump-thump-thump of his heart when Obi-Wan laid his head against his chest? What part of it? The heated discussion in the factory's control room?—how Obi-Wan stormed off, first blinded by rage, then by the sudden detonation, then by something else altogether when he crawled from below the debris and Dooku's bleeding body? What part of it does Dooku want to forget?)

Obi-Wan pushes at him; he needs to see his face.

But Dooku pulls away. "You are not a prisoner.” He retreats behind the table and lowers himself into the chair, the movement stiff and without his usual grace. "If you wish to leave, the door is right there. Although I must warn you: I will not give up the ship without a fight."

Obi-Wan lifts an eyebrow. "You are injured, Dooku."

Dooku pours himself a glass of wine. The cold has tinted the skin beneath his nails an unhealthy, bluish shade. "That should level the field somewhat."

"Going at each other won’t improve my mood, let alone yours."

"Stabbing me in my sleep would be the most efficient strategy, though I wouldn't think you a spineless coward who—"

"Just shut up!" Obi-Wan plants both his hands onto the table, leaning toward Dooku. "Who are you trying to distract with this petty jabber? You cling so desperately to your belief that everything has to be paid in misery and suffering that you’re denying yourself even the slightest bit of—"

"The last thing I need is your pity," Dooku hisses.

"Oh trust me Dooku, I do not feel sorry for you."

Dooku stares at him from over his glass. "Get out."

"I'm not leaving," Obi-Wan blurts out. Dooku keeps staring at him with that dumb face, and the heat rises inside Obi-Wan. It crushes his lungs, pushes against his throat, and his body tingles with the urge to move; shake it off, crawl beneath the table, maybe throw more logs to the fire, or hit Dooku. He swallows. His mouth is so dry that his tongue sticks to his palate like old gauze to a wound. "I'm staying."

Dooku straightens in his chair and raises his chin. "And yet, moments ago, you were entertaining the idea of crawling back to the Jedi."

Obi-Wan clutches the edge of the table. "You know that's not what I said."

"Isn't it?" Dooku samples the wine, his eyes never leaving Obi-Wan's.

"Kindly cease twisting my words, Dooku," Obi-Wan says coldly. "And stop drinking. Are you hoping to make this tower your grave?" He snatches the wine glass from Dooku's hand and downs it himself. The alcohol is bitter on his tongue, but it sends a pleasant burn down his throat.

Dooku's hand snaps up and grips his wrist. Wine spills over Obi-Wan's sleeve; the glass slips from his fingers and shatters onto the floor. Obi-Wan knocks forward, his knuckles grazing Dooku's throat before he braces against the backrest of the chair; it creaks and shudders.

Beneath them, a thousand tiny shards gleam upon the floor, like stars, like teeth.

Dooku has no eyes for the destruction. He is staring up at Obi-Wan, his right leg awkwardly stretched underneath the table to reduce the pressure on his wound. Scabbed scratches litter the left side of his face, and all Obi-Wan can think about are the scars hiding below Dooku's clothes, the ones he put there, the ones Dooku put there for him. He shivers; a gust of wind sweeps under his wet tunic, but Dooku's face is warm when he touches it. Dooku presses into his hand, tentatively, as if still wary whether this will veer into care or cruelty. Obi-Wan exhales soundlessly: don't, he wants to say, don't do this, don't trust this, me, us. He brushes his thumb along the corner of Dooku's mouth.

Dooku closes his eyes, licks his lips. "Obi-Wan ..." he mumbles.

What remains of Obi-Wan's reason burns up in that breathy whisper. He falls forward and crushes Dooku's mouth beneath his. Dooku stiffens, then opens with a groan, and his hands are back in Obi-Wan's hair, both of them, burying into the wet strands, just like Obi-Wan buries himself in Dooku. He sways and falls, or maybe Dooku pulls him; the chair scrapes over the stone tiles as Obi-Wan crawls onto Dooku's lap and wraps himself around his heat, and it's all Obi-Wan has been craving: Dooku's body against his when nobody is watching, because everybody is gone.

Their teeth clash; Dooku angles his head and his fingers clench in Obi-Wan's hair as he kisses back, his breath heavy and wet and his nose pushing against Obi-Wan's cheekbones. The taste of him makes Obi-Wan dizzy. Wine, he thinks, something that is bitter at first but reveals layers of addictive sweetness the more you drink of it. When Dooku gropes at Obi-Wan's back and makes a noise like he's drowning, Obi-Wan's stomach gives a startled twist. He rolls his hips, grinds down until he feels Dooku growing hard beneath him. Dooku breathes wetly into Obi-Wan's neck and groans again; maybe with pleasure, maybe with pain, Obi-Wan doesn't care, and he isn't even sure which possibility arouses him more. He tilts Dooku's chin toward him and pushes his tongue between Dooku's bared teeth into the soft, searing warmth. Dooku's eyes change color like Obi-Wan's saber: they're soot and smoke and embers that swirl in his irises. He keeps them open while they kiss, watches Obi-Wan from below heavy lashes, and it's weird how this sight ignites a giddy heat in Obi-Wan's guts, similar to when he finally sunk that knife into Dooku's chest after weeks of skirting him. This, he thinks, I can still win this, I can still wound you, you feel this too. He slides a hand below Dooku's tunic, runs his fingers along the wound where the skin is hot and swollen, and Dooku moans around Obi-Wan's tongue.

When they part for air, they are both panting like animals. Dooku cups Obi-Wan's face in his large hands and traces the curve of his cheek with his thumbs.

"Stay with me," he breathes against Obi-Wan's mouth; it's barely louder than the wind howling against the tower, but Obi-Wan is close enough to taste his words on his tongue.

"Stay." His mouth grazes Obi-Wan's neck.

"Obi-Wan." He draws him flush against his chest.

Obi-Wan's hand is squished between their abdomens. He presses harder; digs his fingers into Dooku's ribcage, the softness below, and it's all so familiar and yet strange, the same skin he has touched and ripped apart and restitched countless times. He can feel the rise and fall of Dooku's chest and the pulsing heat trapped between his thighs where Obi-Wan straddles him. The blade guard on Dooku's saber stabs into Obi-Wan's stomach.

Obi-Wan drops his head on Dooku's shoulder. Distantly, he realizes that he is warm, almost hot, for the first time in days.

Outside, he can hear it: the last, gentle drip of water as the storm finally dies down.

[sinningsalsachip-blog]

HIII alll

[david-talks-sw]

"the Warrior, the Princess & the Peasants"

Hidden Fortress (1958)

The Akira Kurosawa movie that inspired the structure and some of the character dynamics in the first Star Wars film. The main characters are:

Matashichi and Tohei, the two serfs whose eyes most of the picture is viewed through, Princess Yuki, an uppity young aristocrat on the run from the authorities, who constantly bickers with Toshiro Mifune's battle-hardened general Rokurota.

Star Wars (1973)

In the original concept of Star Wars, the dynamic stayed similar, although more characters were added to the mix.

But you still have the two droids, C-3PO and R2D2 (deriving from the peasants in Hidden Fortress), Princess Leia (loudmouth aristocrat on the run from the authorities), and Luke Skywalker (a battle-hardened general).

As drafts changed and plot details shifted, Luke Skywalker became the young protagonist, the general character became Obi-Wan Kenobi (whom Toshiro Mifune was originally considered for).

It's not a one-to-one copy, but there is clearly an inspiration. And when you look at the posters at the time?

Still Luke, Leia, 3PO and R2.

The Phantom Menace (1999)

As already discussed here, in one of the early drafts of The Phantom Menace, Obi-Wan is the one who rescues the Queen from Naboo and finds Anakin on Tatooine. Qui-Gon only comes into the script once the gang gets to Coruscant.

But in this early draft, Obi-Wan is an experienced warrior, who pushes the envelope, eliciting the complaints of princess Queen Amidala (the aristocrat on the run). When on Tatooine, the two "low-ranking" characters are still R2, this time with Jar Jar Binks.

Eventually, for multiple reasons, Obi-Wan was made the Padawan and Qui-Gon was put in early in the script.

(Fun Fact: before this change was made, there was a draft where Obi-Wan stayed the elder, Qui-Gon was made the Padawan, and then Obi-Wan gets killed by Maul and young Qui-Gon takes on his name, going on to become Alec Guinness' Ben!)

But be it Qui-Gon or Obi-Wan, the warrior in The Phantom Menace is no longer a general with rank authority, he's just a diplomat.

The only reason he's able to do things "his way or the highway" is because 1) he is headstrong and 2) Padmé is undercover and doesn't wanna give it away (as if Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan hadn't already noticed...!)

So here we have an interesting reversal of roles: in Hidden Fortress (and kinda in the first Star Wars film), the Princess is the chaotic hellion who must be reined in by the warrior, who's always screaming:

"Princess, ffs! Stop wandering off, they're actively looking for you!"

Here, the warrior is the one going off-book and the Queen is like:

"Stop this at once, you cheeky fellow! We're on the run!"

Finally, as covered in this lengthy post about how The Hidden Fortress informs us of the Jedi's standing within the Republic, Lucas makes it clear that he alternates between projecting the "peasant POV" archetype on the Jedi duo and Jar Jar & R2/Anakin.

There is no clear protagonist in The Phantom Menace, you just have four main characters: the Jedi (who are two separate characters, but functionally are basically one single character), Padmé and Anakin.

All of this to say that just like the themes, these archetypes also echo each other in more ways than one, and it's intentional. As Lucas puts it, it's like a symphony:

"I’m also doing very stylistic ideas, things that are very musical in terms of how I develop themes, and repeat themes. I go do the same thing over and over in certain areas to echo what I have done before. It’s like a symphony more than a movie." - Star Wars Insider #35, 1997

"I'm approaching these films, for better or worse, like a symphony. I have a lot of themes that I keep repeating over and over again through the whole thing. Different notes and different instrumentation, but when you see all six movies together you'll see that there's a lot of recurring notes being played. [...] And it’s done on purpose. And it’s also done in different facets." - Star Wars Insider #52, 2000

So yeah.

Just some fun similarities and tidbits I noticed, figured I'd share.

[falconfeather23435]

May I also add…this one

(it’s long & the only good one I have, just pretend it stops after the explosion)

the two best screencaps in Star Wars, hands down.

[the-red-butterfly]

20 Questions for fic writers

Tagged by @bad-at-names-and-faces and @i-did-not-mean-to

Thanks guys!!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? I have 96 works in Ao3 BUT I have 104 on Fanfiction (yes, I still post there don't judge me.) I think there are just like 3 works that I have on Ao3 that I didn't pu up on FanFiction.

2. What's your total AO3 word count? 411,089 (Not too bad, not too bad)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Primarily I write for Tolkien works, Star Wars and Batman (bat fam to be more specific). But I'm very much a, write one for each thing I love kinda gall. Honorary mentions include Sandman, Frozen, Twilight Avengers, Merlin and Teen Titans.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Lonely Stars Drifting In The Black (Star Wars) (so not surprised XD)

Kudos: 2,276

The Unexpected Pop Of Things (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 1,265

This Isn't What It Looks Like (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 762

Death of a Star (Lucifer TV)

Kudos: 760

Alone Never More (Batman comics) (you are just an okay story, why are you here? 😭)

Kudos: 729

(I'm kinda surprised and offended that I didn't put Lucifer on the honorary mentions and it still took places 2, 3 AND 4 👁)

5. Do you respond to comments? Oh yes (though I might take a couple of months if I some slip my mind). Almost all of them. I tend to not answer back to emojis because I'm like... I don't know what to answer?

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? This was kind of a hard question and it took me way too long to answer, so here, have the three runner ups.

A Crime Of Passion (Twilight: New Moon)

Ends with: Carlisle being forced to drink blood and being unable to deal with it.

At The End Of The Earth (Hellboy del Toro movies)

Ends with: John Myers being mauled by wolves and his last thoughts being of how alone he feels and of dying alone.

She's not a very good mother (Batman comics)

Ends with: Janet Drake dying as she chokes on poison and regrets she wont be able to do better by her son. She always thought she'd have more time.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Unlike the last one, this one was so easy to pick because, yeah... I'm an angsty girly for sure so the pool for REALLY happy endings was SMALL.

Drizzle Bt The Sea (Teen Titans cartoon)

It's quite short and all around just happy in vibes. Just Robin and Jericho playing by the sea under the rain.

8. Do you get hate on fics? I don't remember that I ever have? Thought I thought a couple might get hate, they didn't.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? I tired it ONCE. And you know what happened? The sex was interrupted by trauma and they characters had to top to talk about the whole thing.

There is also that other one time but we're not going to talk about it.

But all in all I'm much more interested in exploring gen stories ✨

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I LOVE crossovers. I don't have many, but I am plagued mentally by them. I have 3 posted (only one on Ao3). And I'm not sure which one's craisiest. But the 2 on FF are both Rise of the Guardians crossovers, one with Avengers and the other with LES MISÉRABLES. What was younger me smoking? I would really like to know.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I'm aware 👁

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? I think someone might've asked one or two times? But I honestly don't remember, if it ever happened, it was ages ago.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Oh yes! It's always so fun to me. I've done it a couple of times with @slightly-crimson-tornado and I'm currently working on one with @pushing-daisies-renaissance ✨

14. What’s your all time favourite ship? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmm. Steve Trevor x Diana Prince I think. Close runner up is definitely Satine Kryze x Obi-wan Kenobi. And I'm VERY fond of Bruce Wayne x Selina Kyle.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a stupid amount of wips so I'll just go by posted ones. I have this story idea that I REALLY Like but I came up with it ages ago, and though i still like the idea I'm doubtful that I'll ever give it the time it deserves to go back to ):

Because the truth was too terrible (Avengers)

It's a story about Natasha being trapped inside her mind and Thor getting in to wake her up. I'm still pretty fond of the general gist of it. But it's OLD now.

16. What are your writing strengths? Aaaaaahhh. Trauma management? Like, they way people go about it and navigate it; how they talk about it with others? At least I THINK that's my strength. People keep complimenting those things XD

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I am too flowery with wording and I get sick of myself. It's out of control and I sometimes can't help it.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? I love it. If I can't get help I'll just wing a google translate, or god forbid do some research on structure. I'm BAD at it, but I love it and use it frequently.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Inazuma Eleven (anime) hehe. Love of my youth, protect me.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written? I love this this Twilight one-shot I wrote some years ago. It made me suffer a lot (for reasons you can find in the author's notes) but the idea has always had a tight grip on me. I really like it (and hope to got I can get the sequel out one day).

A Crime Of Passion (Twilight: New Moon)

BUT two honorable mentions. One, my Star Wars series where Obi-wan get's rescued from Death Watch by Jango Fett. And Two, my VERY self indulgent crossover between Avengers x Merlin, I love the story and I'm really super fond of what I've gotten down so far.

Celestial Bodies Of The Lonesome Variety (LSD) (Star Wars)

Of The Old Things Hidden In The World (Merlin x Avengers crossover)

Ya know, just in case you feel like it, tagging @slightly-crimson-tornado , @cilil , @dottie-wan-kenobi , @fishing4stars , @arlenianchronicles , @scary-grace