#obi-wan is just respecting it

[tennessoui]

Hey I hope you're having a good day! I'm sure you've already got a handful of prompts but how about *shakes magic 8-ball* number 17, meeting at a party whilst drunk au!

hello thank you for sending this in!! i'm still working down my list of prompts, and this one is: meeting at a party whilst drunk

i took some liberties with the prompt here though, so really this is meeting (again after a long time) at a party whilst drunk

(2.8k) (gffa, anakin leaves the order after the war au)

Usually, Obi-Wan is better about this sort of thing. It is, after all, a matter of utmost importance. It’s a matter of survival. 

Usually, when he receives an invitation to an event, he does not commit himself to going until he can complete some reconnaissance about the other guests invited. Until he knows beyond a reasonable doubt that Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi and current husband to Senator Amidala, will not be in attendance.

It is much better this way. For everyone involved, really, but especially for Obi-Wan and his poor fool’s heart. It is much better if they keep an entire planet between themselves these days—preferably multiple planets. Preferably half a galaxy.

But this is a retirement party for Bail, and Obi-Wan cannot miss it. His old friend deserves better than that, better than Obi-Wan’s cowardice getting in the way of a celebration of his decades-long career in the Senate.

So he accepts the invitation without researching the guest list. He thinks—he hopes—that in the past nine years, Anakin Skywalker’s intense dislike of Bail Organa has not waned. Anakin, when Obi-Wan knew him, when he was Obi-Wan’s—Obi-Wan’s padawan—had a tendency to make a snap judgement about someone and never change his opinion. 

His hatred had been like an impenetrable wall, unchanging and immovable.

His love had ebbed and flowed, drowned out by his anger or his irritation, coming in great waves when he was in a fine mood and resembling a desert’s drought when he was upset.

But his hatred had always been unshakable once assigned. The very first time Obi-Wan saw it in Anakin’s eyes when he looked at him, a year after he left the Order and the last time they'd seen each other, he’d known for a fact that he’d lost him. That the love had dried up and gone and that it would never return. It’d felt like watching Anakin leave the Temple all over again, like a hand clenched around his heart squeezing and squeezing and squeezing.

So he hopes that Anakin has chosen not to attend Bail’s retirement party. Oh, he knows that Anakin’s wife is here, and he has already downed two flutes of sparkling wine to prepare himself for the sight of her looking resplendent across the ballroom, but he hopes that Anakin has chosen to stay home instead of wasting an evening fawning over a man he never liked in the first place.

Besides, someone should look after the children. They’re nine now, Obi-Wan knows. If they are anything like Anakin was at that age, they must need constant supervision. And he has already seen Senator Amidala once tonight from afar, knows that she is here amongst the party-goers.

He tightens his grip on his fourth flute of wine and turns his attention back to his conversation partner. 

It is rather rude to be so preoccupied in the midst of a conversation with another, but Obi-Wan is an old man now and a war hero. He’s allowed to get away with much more these days than he could in the past.

“Yes, I admit the Jedi Order still has far to go in order to rebuild itself,” he says, mind torn between the small talk and the drink in his hand. These sorts of conversations are easy to have. Yes, the war took a lot out of the Jedi Order. Yes, we are still working through the damages and the trauma. Yes, it’s been ten years since, but sometimes it feels as if it was only yesterday. Yes, sometimes it feels as if I am still fighting.

And then—

Then the woman he is talking to grows bold. She rests her hand on his forearm, the one that is holding the flute of wine, and steps closer.

And in the Force, there is a rumbling of pure, visceral hatred, the sort Obi-Wan has only ever felt in the air a few times.

The sort that is achingly, distressingly familiar.

He turns his head, even though he knows he should not look. He knows looking will take him out at the knees. He knows he may never recover if he looks.

He turns his head and he looks anyway. There, across the room, standing to the left of a load bearing pillar is the drawn and furious face of Anakin Skywalker, ex-Jedi, ex-padawan.

Obi-Wan’s first thought is that he looks older, though he realizes a moment later how absolutely inane that is. Of course he looks older. It has been nine years since he really talked to him, eight years since he last saw him, and he has tried to avoid any news or photos about the man at all. In his mind, he is still as he was in those days and months following the end of the war. But logically, he knows that the time has passed, that not even the Chosen One is immune to aging.

Anakin’s hair is streaked with shoots of silver. It’s short now, cropped close to his head though still curling as much as he lets it. His face is worn, wrinkled in different, unfamiliar places. He is wearing finery befitting that of a senator’s husband, the color of a midnight sky.

It is strangely comforting to see him dressed in the same colors he has worn since he was a youngling in Obi-Wan’s care. If he were wearing white or, or green or pink, then Obi-Wan isn’t sure he’d be able to recognize him at all.

“Are you quite alright, Master Kenobi?” the woman asks, words filtering in through the static noise in Obi-Wan’s head. 

No. Of course he is not alright.

Yes. He is better than alright. He feels as if his head has broken the surface of the water he’s been trapped under for the past nine years. He feels as if the sight of Anakin Skywalker is a sip of water when he’s on the brink of dehydration.

“You know actually I am not sure,” he tells her, which is overly personal and not at all what he’d meant to say. But that is what the sight of Anakin Skywalker does these days. It throws him off, makes him loose-tongued and off-centered.

Fuck, he thinks once, viciously. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” he tells her, carefully separating himself from her touch and taking a step away. She looks disappointed almost immediately, and Obi-Wan should care about the image he’s making, how impolite he is being, but he has bigger concerns right now. 

Anakin Skywalker is here. 

“Enjoy your evening,” he adds as he raises his flute of wine to his lips and drains it in one go. “Unfortunately, I’m going to go get incredibly drunk.”

“Uh,” the woman says, but Obi-Wan is already gone. He can’t—he can’t stay. Not in this room, not under the weight of Anakin Skywalker’s stare.

Thank the Force he started the night by giving his congratulations and warm regard to Bail. If things turn sour, he’ll be able to slip away with only minimal rudeness.

And, if he’s being quite honest, things have already soured beyond the point of salvation.

But instead of leaving—instead of slipping out the room and running back to the Temple, tail between his legs, he stays. Inexplicably, he grabs another flute of wine from a passing server and retreats to a balcony.

Fresh air will sober him up, he thinks, even as he downs half the flute. 

He should leave, he thinks, even as he stays.

He should leave—but he cannot bring himself to. Anakin is here and it’s Obi-Wan’s worst nightmare and it’s the only thing he’s desired for the past nine years.

Barely a minute passes before the balcony door opens behind him. Obi-Wan keeps his eyes pinned to the city-scape around them.

“Occupied,” he says, even though he knows who it is. Even though he knows the word is useless. Anakin will not leave until he wants to.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin says. Just his name, just three syllables.

Obi-Wan downs the rest of the flute. “Anakin,” he says, closing his eyes for a moment to gather himself before he turns to look at him.

Oh, he wishes he could blame the alcohol for how beautiful he finds him, but he knows that’s just some dark and twisted part of himself, some sinful and perverted aspect of his soul he has never been able to scrub clean.

“How are you?” He says, because he cannot let Anakin speak first. If he lets Anakin speak first, there will be a diplomatic incident, surely. If he lets Anakin speak first, Anakin will control the conversation—Anakin will tear through all of his shields and land on his sorest, most vulnerable spots. “How are the children?” “Do you even know their names?” Anakin spits back, eyebrows drawn dark and heavy over his expression. His face is flushed. He must have been drinking as well. “How old they are? Do not ask after my children as if you care about them at all, Obi-Wan—I know you don’t!”

“Luke,” Obi-Wan says. “Leia.”

Oh, he wishes Anakin were right. He wishes he didn’t know a damn thing about them, about him, about the life he lives now. One completely separate and void of Obi-Wan. 

Anakin probably does not notice his absence. After all, he has a wife, two children. A part-time job, if Bail can be believed. He wonders if he still meditates facing the wrong way, back to the sun, and suddenly his heart feels so tight he can hardly breathe through the pain.

Anakin sneers. “Whatever,” he says and reaches into the folds of his robes to pull out a silver flask. He raises it to his lips and takes a swig, rubbing a hand over his mouth when he’s done, capping it and sliding back into his robes.

It is the alcohol that loosens his tongue, Obi-Wan knows it. Obi-Wan understands that he has had too much to drink tonight to be standing before Anakin Skywalker now, that anything that comes out of his mouth will be something he regrets in the morning.

But does it really matter? How could it matter? Anakin Skywalker was his whole life for a decade and a few years, and then he left. And now a decade has passed. In five years, he will have spent longer missing him than he spent loving him. What does a few words matter now?

Obi-Wan has already lost everything. He is already made of regret.

“I don’t know why you insist on acting so hatefully,” he says. “You left.”

He means, of course, that if anyone should hate anyone here, it is Obi-Wan’s right to hate Anakin.

Impossible, as it were, but his right. Anakin left.

Obi-Wan asked him to stay.

“You kissed me,” Anakin spits back.

And yes, alright. He kissed him as well.

His fingers itch for another flute of wine. Perhaps a swallow of the flask in Anakin’s robes. Anything. Anything to dull the white-hot ache of this conversation. Anything to escape these consequences.

“Nine years ago,” he says, quietly. “It’s been nine years, Anakin.”

Let it go.

He hadn’t—he really hadn’t meant to kiss him. It had been—a foolish mistake, something that had happened late at night, a few months after the end of the war, and they had been in Obi-Wan’s quarters, drinking and talking and Anakin had said something about leaving the Order, and Obi-Wan had said something about him staying, and Anakin had said, Padmé is pregnant, and Obi-Wan—Obi-Wan had kissed him.

A foolish mistake, made only survivable by the way that, for a handful of precious seconds, Anakin had kissed him back.

Before the yelling, the hatred, the anger. The leaving. Before all of that, Anakin had kissed him back.

“I have already apologized, Anakin,” Obi-Wan whispers, exhausted, and his eyes cut away from Anakin, turn back to the city. “I have thought of that moment countless times–-and I cannot begin to explain what came over me, what I was thinking at the time.”

He just—he hadn’t wanted Anakin to leave. Had thought that perhaps if he could—if he could give Anakin himself in all the ways one person could devote themselves to another, then maybe it would be enough. Maybe he would stay.

A foolish hope, one that Obi-Wan should have known better than to entertain even for a moment.

“I have thought of it too,” Anakin says. He clears his throat. He lurches forward, unsteady on his feet. His hand comes into contact with Obi-Wan’s arm, glove on sleeve. Thank the Force for the layers still in between them.

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan murmurs, and the truth is that he means it as much as he does not. He is sorry for taking the brotherhood and friendship between them and shattering it. He is sorry that he kissed Anakin, that he hastened his leave.

But he is not sorry for knowing how his lips felt against his own. How he tasted.

Obi-Wan is a lonely old man, despite the family he has surrounded himself with at the Temple. Despite his new padawan that he has been training for the past eight years. Despite the trips he takes to see his retired men, Cody and the 212th scattered across the galaxy. Despite all the ways he fills his days, all the people he meets and talks to and trains with, he is still lonely. There is still a hole in his heart, a space that Anakin used to occupy.

“I have thought of it every day since,” Anakin says, repeating himself in that way drunkards do when they have forgotten they already started the same sentence a moment before.

“I’m—”

“It has haunted me,” Anakin says. His voice is sharp and angry and Obi-Wan wants to close his eyes and shy away from it. Obi-Wan, who has faced down Separatists and sith lords and blaster fire, wants to turn tail and hide. Retreat. Retreat.

Anakin’s voice turns��darker, wilder. His hand tightens and he tugs, just hard enough that it overbalances Obi-Wan. “I am haunted by the kiss you never should have given me.”

“Had I known you were married, I never would have—”

“You ruined it,” Anakin snaps. “You ruined my marriage!”

“I…” Obi-Wan’s throat clicks, words drying out. “What?”

“We filed for separation months ago,” Anakin says. His eyes are dark; he is holding his arm so tightly that it hurts. “Joint custody of the children, but a formal divorce. Amicable.”

Obi-Wan…Obi-Wan doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if he can speak at all.

“It wouldn’t have been amicable if she knew though,” Anakin says. He takes a step forward. Obi-Wan gives ground. He does not know how else to fight Anakin. “If she knew what I thought about when I retreated from her touch. If she knew what—who—drove me from our bed every night to walk through our house like a ghost wandering the halls.”

“If your marriage ended over a kiss I gave you nine years ago, then it is hardly my fault,” Obi-Wan says, putting his hand on Anakin’s chest to keep distance between them. When did they become so close? This is much too close. Obi-Wan can smell Anakin’s soap, his sweat. The alcohol on his breath.

“But it is,” Anakin insists, unable still it seems to take his share of the blame and make his peace with it. “It is, because I spent half my life in love with you, then I finally commit to someone else—allow myself to look and love and appreciate someone else’s beauty—and then you kiss me, as if I have not already sworn loyalty to another! As if I could be yours to kiss! As if I still was!”

Obi-Wan shakes his head, unable to do more. “It was a kiss, Anakin, it was—I assure you, I am not such a good kisser that I can be blamed for your failed marriage when it was nine years ago!”

“Then you do not remember it as well as I do,” Anakin murmurs, and now—now the rage has turned darker, heady. His eyes catch and hold onto Obi-Wan’s lips. His eyes are more black than blue. His face is flushed. He is—so handsome. So beautiful still, after all of these years. “Let me refresh your memory,” he says, and Obi-Wan—

Obi-Wan is weak when it comes to Anakin. He always has been. He is so weak. And he needs—he needs so much. He makes a sound, something embarrassingly small and desperate, and then Anakin is kissing him and it feels like being sliced open and like coming home, all at the same time. 

Like how it felt when he returned to the quarters he shared with Qui-Gon after his master had died—a homecoming, but at what cost? A death and a birth, all at the same time. He had lingered in the doorway that first time, unable to push himself across and into quarters that felt both strange and familiar. 

It had been Anakin, a small boy still, who had grabbed him by the hand and pulled him inside.

Still now, even all these years later, Obi-Wan closes his eyes and allows himself to follow Anakin’s lead. 

[omaano]

Hi! If you're still accepting requests for the poly poses!! How about IH for Obi-Wan, Cody and Satine? Because yk he has two hands 🫡🥹

He does indeed have two hands, and both of them should be occupied at all times :3 Thank you for asking @lightasthesun 🥰

Polyamorous/platonic poses for sketching

and the other drawings I’ve made for them (I am halfway through all your lovely requests for reals this time!!)

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Seven: Forward (Part 2)

Chapter WC: 5,095

Chapter Tags/Warnings: None

A/N: no thoughts just Rex 💙

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Join the Taglist | Masterlist

“I almost forgot.” Anakin says your name and gestures to the clone. “This is Captain—“

The name is out of your mouth before you even register saying it, slipping past your lips with a certainty, an assurance, that comes from somewhere deep inside you.

“Rex.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. You stare at him, wide-eyed, and Rex stares back, his expression mirroring yours. There's a pause, and the entire world seems to stop. No one moves, no one breathes.

Rex's lips part, his eyebrows rising. He shakes his head, blinking as if to clear the surprise. His hand tightens around the edge of his helmet, and you can see his pulse jumping in his throat.

Anakin's brow furrows. "Yeah, Rex."

Ahsoka's gaze darts between the two of you, her head tilting, and you can see the gears turning behind her eyes. Obi-Wan looks equally perplexed, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

You know what they're thinking, and you know you owe them an explanation, but you're too stunned yourself to speak. Instead, you stand, frozen, your eyes locked with Rex, your mouth open in shock.

"Do you two know each other?" Ahsoka asks, her voice cautious.

"Uh," you begin, trying to find the words.

"We've met," Rex answers, his tone steady. He's recovered faster than you, his surprise fading as he schools his features into a mask of calm professionalism, though there's a hint of a smile, a softening around the eyes, that tells you he's not unaffected. He nods at you. "Good to see you again, General.”

You close your mouth, and you can't help the smile that spreads across your own face, the emotion welling up inside you. The words are simple, polite, and yet, they fill you with warmth, a happiness that radiates through your entire body.

At your side, Obi-Wan starts, his eyebrows shooting up, and his eyes dart to your face. You can't bring yourself to look away from Rex, the intensity of his gaze holding you captive, but you can feel the weight of his surprise. You know he can feel the intensity of your emotions, and you also know that he has no idea what's going on.

But you're not sure you do either.

All you know, all you can focus on, is that somehow, impossibly, the man in front of you is the one, the very same clone who saved your life.

"Good to see you, too," you say, the words soft. Your eyes rove over him, taking in his face, his body, his armor. You never saw his face that day, but you remember the strength of his presence, the surety, the resolve. It's all there, staring back at you.

His hair is blond. It's different, but it suits him.

Rex nods, and the moment seems to stretch on forever. There's a warmth in his gaze, an openness, that's unexpected, and his expression is filled with something like awe. The look makes your heart beat a little faster, and you can't stop the blush that spreads across your cheeks.

Anakin clears his throat, and the two of you snap your heads in his direction.

"So, uh, how do you two know each other?" Anakin asks, his tone wary.

You take a breath and manage to regain your composure, though the grin remains. "He, um, he saved my life. On Geonosis. He dragged me back to the ship when I was injured."

The memory of Geonosis hasn't been far from your mind, the pain and the blood and the heat all burned into your consciousness, but the recollection is tempered by the knowledge that, had it not been for Rex, you wouldn't be here, standing in front of him. 

You'd been so close to losing everything, to losing yourself, and he'd managed to pull you back from the brink without even knowing you. The thought is sobering, and a rush of emotion falls over you, a feeling of profound gratitude and respect.

Rex rubs the back of his neck, his expression sheepish, and his eyes flit down to the ground. "It was nothing, sir. Any trooper would've done the same."

"That may be, but they didn't. You did," you insist. He looks up, and you hold his gaze, hoping he can see the sincerity in your eyes.

You don't think he could get any redder, but you're wrong. He blushes, the color spreading across his cheeks and ears, and he gives a short, awkward laugh.

You can't help the small smile that forms on your lips, and you glance at Obi-Wan, the corners of your mouth turning up even more. He's looking between the two of you, his eyebrows raised, and you know he can feel your affection for the clone, the fondness and admiration.

His eyes land on you, and his brow furrows, the question clear.

You shrug and give a small shake of your head, not quite able to answer. You can tell that he's remembering, replaying the events of that day in his mind, weighing the possibilities, and considering the implications. The two of you avoided talking about that day, and the most you’d ever told Obi-Wan is that a clone had fought by your side and helped you evacuate the surface when you were injured.

It wasn't a lie, per se, but it was far from the whole truth.

You'd wanted, needed, to keep some parts of that day for yourself, and the details of the rescue, how you'd very nearly lost control, had seemed too personal, too embarrassing, to share.

Now, though, those details seemed trivial. Your heart is beating faster, the joy coursing through you, and you're unable to contain the grin that spreads across your face, the corners of your lips lifting.

"I can't believe it," Obi-Wan murmurs, and his voice is filled with disbelief. "The odds..."

"Me either," you reply just as softly, your eyes on Rex.

Obi-Wan and Anakin exchange a look, their brows furrowed. There's an unspoken question in their eyes, a confusion that's mirrored by Ahsoka, but she doesn't say anything, her gaze moving from Rex, to you, and then back again.

Rex, for his part, is trying his best to affect stoicism, but his eyes keep straying back to you, and there's a tension in his body, a restlessness. You watch his eyes widen slightly when he realizes what he's doing, and his gaze snaps back to Anakin. You bite your cheek, suppressing the strange urge to laugh. 

The situation was bizarre, to say the least, but there was something amusing about the way Rex was acting, a combination of nervousness and bashfulness that was completely at odds with the confidence he displayed in combat. The coolness and efficiency with which he'd fought by your side seemed a distant memory, replaced by a boyish shyness that was, quite frankly, adorable.

"Then it seems I owe you a debt of gratitude, Captain," Obi-Wan begins, and his words are measured, careful. "For doing what I could not. You have my thanks."

"There's no need for that, General," Rex responds, his voice gruff. He glances down at you, his eyes locking with yours, and his lips form a tight line, as if he's holding something back. "Anyone else would've done the same."

Ah, he was modest, too.

Your smile widens, and Rex's eyes flit away, his cheeks reddening further.

Anakin snorts, and Ahsoka rolls her eyes, the expression fond. She leans in and whispers something to Anakin, and he coughs to hide a laugh. Rex glares at them with all the fury a captain can muster, and they respond with matching, sly grins, which only seems to make him more irritated.

"If you say so, Rex," Anakin says, a teasing note in his voice. He looks over at Obi-Wan, and the two of them share a conspiratorial glance. "Seems like the Force has a sense of humor."

"It appears so," Obi-Wan responds, his eyes shining. "Quite the coincidence, isn't it?"

You can't help but roll your eyes, and Rex lets out a short, exasperated sigh. You know what they're doing, the gentle prodding, the leading questions, the implications, and you have half a mind to scold them.

"It certainly is," you reply dryly. Your nonplussed expression is betrayed, however, by the twinkle in your eye, and the smirk playing across your lips. “I guess I'll be seeing a lot more of you, Rex."

Rex's eyebrows raise, and he clears his throat. "Yes, it appears that way, sir."

Your smile widens. "Well, I look forward to working with you."

"Same here," he replies, his voice growing firmer. The hint of a smile creeps back onto his face, and the warmth returns, filling his gaze.

There's a strange feeling, an unexpected excitement, that spreads through your chest at his words, and you find yourself returning the smile with enthusiasm. There's a moment, a brief second, where the two of you simply look at each other, your eyes locking, and the sensation is both familiar and new, an odd mixture of comfort and uncertainty.

Then, Anakin steps between you, and the moment is broken.

"As touching as this is, we really should be going. Felucia won't liberate itself," he says. He places a hand on Ahsoka's shoulder and gently pushes her toward the shuttle. "C'mon, Snips."

"Right," Obi-Wan says as he turns, and he motions for you to follow. "We shall see you on the ground."

Rex nods, and you take a few steps before glancing over your shoulder. You find him looking back at you, his expression thoughtful, his brows slightly furrowed, and you pause.

"I'll be right there," you say to Obi-Wan, waving a hand in front of you and giving him a small, apologetic smile. "I'd like a minute, if that's alright."

He raises an eyebrow, and his gaze moves from Rex, to you, and then back again. A slow, knowing grin forms on his face, and he inclines his head towards you. "Of course, my dear. Don't be too long."

He gives your shoulder a pat, and then he moves away, waving down Commander Cody. You wait until he's a safe distance away, and then you turn back to Rex, taking a few steps towards him.

He hesitates for a moment, his hand resting on his holstered blaster, as if debating whether or not to speak. Finally, he seems to come to a decision, and he steps forward, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture rigid.

"Sir, it's...good to see you again," he says, his voice formal, almost stilted, his eyes locked on a point over your shoulder. "And, uh, it's nice to put a name to a face."

"Agreed. It’s nice to put a face to the name,” you joke, trying, and failing, to break the tension. The words sound awkward, and you internally wince at the delivery. You weren't exactly the best at these types of conversations, and, as evidenced by the way he was holding himself like a statue, neither was Rex.

After a beat, a smile quirks his lips, and he gives a short laugh. Some of the tension seems to ease from his shoulders, and his expression softens, a more natural, easy smile forming on his lips. "It’s not exactly a unique face, sir, but I appreciate the sentiment."

You let out a surprised, but genuine laugh. You hadn't expected him to be so candid, or witty, and it was a welcome change. His eyes move to yours, and the grin widens, the warmth returning, and your laughter grows.

"No, I suppose it's not," you concede playfully, and you shrug a shoulder. “Still, I like it. It suits you."

"I, uh, thank you, sir," he manages, and his cheeks flush a little, his eyes dipping to the ground. You can't help but smile at the sight, at his sudden shyness. A familiar instinct rises in you, the one to push, to prod, to tease, and you struggle to ignore it, biting your cheek to stop yourself.

It would be all too easy, but it was also wrong, especially since you barely knew him. You didn't want him to feel uncomfortable, or obligated to entertain your antics. He'd risked his life for yours, and the last thing you wanted to do was make him regret it.

You clear your throat, and your eyes drift over his shoulder. Obi-Wan and Cody stand a respectable distance away, but the two men are clearly watching, their gazes focused on you, and you feel your own cheeks start to heat.

You'd hoped for some privacy, but it would appear that it wasn't meant to be.

"I didn’t realize you were a Captain now,” you say, shifting the subject to a safer topic.

"I am, sir," Rex replies, and his shoulders square, a bit of pride creeping into his voice. "I started my training after Geonosis, and I was promoted to Captain shortly after the start of the war."

"Impressive, Captain. That's quite the accomplishment," you say. You can’t help but feel proud, the achievement not lost on you. To have risen so quickly through the ranks, to have earned the respect and admiration of his fellow soldiers, was no easy feat, and you couldn’t deny that you were impressed.

"I always wondered what happened to you,” you continue after he nods his thanks. You meet his gaze, and there's an uncertainty, a hesitation, in your voice. You take a breath, steeling yourself, and push the words past your lips. "I thought... well, I wasn't sure if you made it out alive."

The admission is raw, honest, and the words come out before you can stop them. You regret them almost instantly, but you don’t have time to take them back, to apologize.

His expression changes, and his brows furrow, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crossing his face. “I didn’t think you would remember me, sir, if I'm being honest. But, if it's any consolation, I wondered the same thing."

His gaze is soft, his eyes searching, and you feel a small stab of guilt. You had, of course, remembered him, had thought about him and his bravery and his sacrifice for the last six months, but he hadn’t known that.

“How could I forget?” You give him a small, apologetic smile, and you hope he can read the sincerity in it. "I would have died on that planet if it wasn't for you."

Rex opens his mouth, and you suspect he’s about to disagree, or protest, or something, so you wave him off. "And don't say anyone would have done the same."

He snaps his mouth shut, and a frown pulls at the corners of his lips. Then he shakes his head and smiles, his eyes crinkling. "Alright, I won't."

"Good," you chuckle. "Because you'd be wrong."

"So, you've said," he replies, and his grin widens, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. “What I was going to say was that you gave me a hell of a fight over it. You were very insistent, as I recall."

"I suppose I was,” you admit with a sheepish laugh. "I was reckless."

Rex shakes his head, and his eyes never leave yours. "Don't be so hard on yourself, sir. You did what you had to do, and it was brave. It's an honor to serve with someone like you."

The forcefulness, the sincerity of his tone catches you off guard, and your eyes widen. You weren't expecting such a frank, direct answer, and it takes you a moment to find the words to respond.

"I don’t know about that," you finally manage, and you smile, your heart warmed by his praise. “But, thank you.”

He nods, and a small smile plays on his lips, his eyes soft. There's an odd feeling, a flutter in your chest, that accompanies the look. The way he's watching you, with a mixture of admiration and respect, is flattering, but it also makes you feel uncomfortable. You were used to being looked at, and judged, and measured, but this was different. This was... something else.

It's not an unpleasant feeling, not by any means, but it is unsettling.

You clear your throat and try to think of a response, something clever or funny to ease the tension, but before you can, Rex speaks.

"Well, I'd better be going," he says slowly. His eyes flicker over your shoulder, and his smile falters. You follow his gaze, and you see Obi-Wan waiting, his posture impatient, the frown on his face evident even from this distance. "Looks like General Kenobi is waiting for you."

You roll your eyes, the annoyance clear. "Yes, I can see that."

You’d been ignoring the subtle, increasingly impatient nudges over the bond, but Obi-Wan was persistent, and you knew that if you didn’t end the conversation soon, he'd come over and drag you away.

Rex's eyebrows lift, and the small, amused grin returns. "Good luck, sir.”

"You, too, Captain," you reply, the words accompanied by an exaggerated sigh.

The two of you share a smile, and then he turns and strides back towards the transport. You watch him go, and there's a strange feeling, a tightness, that constricts your chest. It's not until he disappears from sight, the doors sliding closed behind him, that you realize you'd been holding, hoping, that he would look back.

You shake your head, the movement sharp, and you start walking towards the shuttle, trying to shake off the odd sensation.

You have bigger problems, after all, and you needed to focus.

Obi-Wan is still speaking to Commander Cody as you approach, their heads bowed together, their voices low. They stop when they notice you, and the two of them share a conspiratorial glance.

"All set?" Obi-Wan asks, his tone light.

"Yes," you reply, the word clipped, and your eyes narrow. “I was just thanking Captain Rex.”

He gives you a smile, his expression innocent, but you can tell by the way his lips twitch, and his eyes crinkle, that he's struggling not to laugh. 

“Yes, you did sound rather grateful,” he muses, and his eyes dart over your shoulder, as if searching for something. You turn and look, but Rex is nowhere to be found. You hadn't expected him to stick around, and yet, part of you is disappointed.

When you turn back and see the sly, knowing look Obi-Wan is giving you, however, your annoyance returns in full force.

"What's that supposed to mean?" you demand, your eyes narrowing.

"Nothing," he says innocently.

"Obi-Wan Kenobi, you had better not be insinuating what I think you're insinuating."

He holds up his hands in surrender. "I would never."

"Uh-huh," you mutter. "Right."

You give him one last glare, and your shoulder brushes harder than necessary against his as you stride up the ramp of the shuttle, making him stumble.

"Now, now, don't be like that," he calls out behind you, the words teasing, and you can't help but roll your eyes.

When you turn, he's smiling, his eyes dancing with mirth, and despite yourself, the corner of your lips twitch upwards. You step aside to let him pass, and he pauses, giving your shoulder a light squeeze.

"I’m just impressed, is all,” he says as he walks by, his voice soft. "I believe this is a new record for you."

Your smile fades, the confusion setting in, and your brow furrows. You hurry to catch up to him, weaving your way through the troopers packed into the shuttle, their white armor reflecting the harsh light of the overhead lamps, and you come to a halt beside him.

"What are you talking about?" you ask, your tone wary.

Obi-Wan glances over at you, the look knowing, his smile smug. "It's been mere minutes since you've stepped foot outside the Temple, and already, you have a new admirer."

You can't help but snort, loud and derisive. "What? Don't be ridiculous. He's not my admirer."

"Of course not," Obi-Wan agrees, but the amusement is clear in his voice, and you can hear the silent laughter, the teasing. “Just like that Prince on Hynestia Prime wasn’t your admirer, or that Mikkian priestess wasn’t your admirer. Or the Queen of—well, you get the point."

"I'm not talking to you anymore," you hiss, and you turn to seek out an open seat, intent on ignoring him for the rest of the ride.

"Oh, don't be like that, darling," Obi-Wan continues, the words full of mirth. He follows behind you, his strides long and purposeful. "I'm simply stating the facts."

You reach the nearest empty bench and take a seat, folding your arms over your chest, and fixing Obi-Wan with the best scowl you can manage. Ever immune to your glare, Obi-Wan plops down beside you, his body bouncing lightly on the bench, and his eyes twinkle.

"If it makes you feel any better, he's not the only one," Obi-Wan continues, unfazed by your outburst, and his knee knocks against yours.

"Really," you deadpan, your voice flat.

"I'm afraid so," he replies gravely. He leans back and crosses his arms over his chest, his posture relaxed. "You've quite a fan club amongst the men. Isn’t that right, Cody?”

Cody, who’s taken up a spot across from you, looks between the two of you, his mouth pressed into a thin line. His face is a mask of professionalism, but the hint of amusement is evident in his eyes, the brown depths sparkling. Still, he manages to remain neutral, his voice steady, when he speaks.

"Sir, with all due respect, I'd rather not get involved in...whatever this is," he says, gesturing between the two of you.

"See?" you say, looking at Obi-Wan triumphantly.

“Although, if I were to get involved," Cody begins, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards, "I wouldn't necessarily call it a fan club, sir. More of an admiration for your skill as a Jedi and a General."

You blink, a bit taken aback by the unexpected compliment, and your expression falls. The ship falls silent, and you can see the other men around you trying to make themselves look busy, their gazes focused intently on the floor or their datapads.

You feel the flush rise to your cheeks, the embarrassment creeping up your neck, and you turn away, the instinctive desire to hide your emotions rising to the surface.

"Is that so?" you mumble, your tone subdued.

"Of course, sir," Cody confirms, his voice gentle, as if sensing your unease. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, and he inclines his head toward you. "And I think I speak for all of us when I say, it's good to have you back."

You swallow hard, and a lump forms in your throat. You don't know how to respond, or what to say, and so you just nod, your gaze dropping to the floor.

"Well, that's very kind," you reply, your voice strained.

Obi-Wan gives you a small, encouraging nudge over the bond, and when you look at him, the expression on his face is affectionate, sympathetic.

You give him a half-smile, and you take a deep breath, inhaling through your nose and letting it out slowly. The embarrassment, the guilt, is still there, a lingering ache in your chest, but Cody's words help ease it somewhat, and you're able to push the feeling back, to bury it in the recesses of your mind.

You glance around the shuttle and notice that many of the troopers are watching, their faces curious, expectant. A few offer you a nod, or a wave, or a thumbs up, and, one by one, you return their smiles, your heart swelling with gratitude and affection.

As the ship takes off, Cody excuses himself and heads toward the cockpit, leaving the two of you alone. You stare down at the floor, your fingers twisting in your lap, and you feel Obi-Wan's eyes on you. You look up, and he gives you a wink.

"Stop," you hiss, and he laughs, the sound low and rich.

"I'm not doing anything.”

"Yes, you are," you insist, and you poke his arm. "You're being annoying."

"I'm being encouraging," he corrects. His hand squeezes your knee gently before it retreats back into his own lap. “I am only trying to prove to you that, despite what you might think, there are plenty of people who admire and respect you, not just for your skill in combat, but for who you are as a person." 

You scoff, but the words have their desired effect, and some of the tightness in your chest loosens, the tension in your shoulders lessening. "Sure, okay."

Obi-Wan lets out a breath, his frustration evident. "Don't do that."

Your brow furrows, and you frown. "Do what?"

"You know what," he says, and he raises an eyebrow. When you don't respond, he shakes his head. "You have a tendency to dismiss such feelings, but I would urge you to pay them closer attention."

Your expression darkens, and the irritation creeps back in, a dull ache forming behind your eyes. You hate it when Obi-Wan got like this, when his tone turned patronizing, his words full of some deeper, unspoken meaning, some lesson he was trying to impart on you. You hate the fact that he can see right through you, and you hate that he always seems to be able to get under your skin, and you hate how, even when you don't want to, you find yourself listening.

You know he means well, but his words rankle, especially in light of recent events, and your jaw clenches.

"I'll keep that in mind, Master," you bite out, your voice tight.

Obi-Wan sighs, and his gaze moves to the window, watching the clouds roll by, the colors blurring together as the ship picks up speed. You stare at the back of his head, your hands curled into fists, the anger building in your chest, and you're about to open your mouth, to tell him where he can shove his lessons, when he speaks.

"I mean it," he mutters, his tone quiet, almost regretful. "You've become so cynical, so closed off, that you fail to see how much people care about you. It's...disappointing, and I can't help but think that maybe I'm to blame."

The anger dissipates, and a wave of guilt replaces it.

"Obi-Wan—"

"No," he cuts in, and he turns to face you, his eyes locking with yours. "It's true, and you know it."

The look in his eyes, the guilt, the sadness, is almost too much for you to bear, and your resolve crumbles, the fight leaving your body. You sigh, and you reach over, taking his hand in yours, your fingers intertwining.

"Obi-Wan, this isn't on you," you say, and your thumb strokes the back of his hand, the movement slow and soothing. "None of this is your fault."

His gaze drops, and he takes a deep breath, his fingers squeezing yours. He swallows hard, and his eyes flutter shut. Then, he exhales, the sound shaky, and he leans back, his eyes opening.

"Just promise me one thing," he murmurs, and he searches your face, his eyes pleading.

"What?"

"Promise me that you'll try," he says, his voice earnest, and his grip on your hand tightens as if afraid you'll pull away. "You are so much more than the mistakes you've made, the things you've done, or the things that have been done to you, and you deserve to be happy."

Obi-Wan's words cut to the core, and a part of you wants to recoil, to snatch your hand back and storm off. Another part, however, the more reasonable part, the part that's been listening, wants to stay. The words are so familiar, so similar to something you'd heard from Master Yaddle a lifetime ago, and you can't help but feel moved.

You look at him, really look at him, and you can see the genuine concern, the love, in his eyes, and you can feel it through the bond. Your eyes prick, and you squeeze them shut, willing the tears not to fall.

"I'm going to be fine," you whisper, and you lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder. "We're going to be fine, I promise."

Obi-Wan leans his head against yours as his thumb strokes the back of your hand, the movement gentle and comforting, and the tension slowly seeps from his body. For a time, neither of you speak, content to sit in silence and watch the world fly by.

Then, after a few minutes, he breaks the silence.

"Although you can't deny that you do seem to attract admirers," he says, his tone playful, and his eyes sparkle. "Which is frankly rather impressive, given that your personality leaves much to be desired."

You laugh, and you sit up, rolling your eyes.

"And here I thought you were giving me a heartfelt speech," you tease, and you give his hand a final squeeze before withdrawing, your fingers slipping from his. "Turns out, it was a thinly veiled insult."

Obi-Wan chuckles, and he leans back, a small smile playing on his lips. "Well, it wouldn't be very Jedi-like of me if I didn't include at least some self-righteous moralizing."

"Of course, how could I forget?" you say with a shake of your head. "You're nothing if not predictable."

He shrugs, his expression smug. "What can I say? It's part of my charm."

"Charm, is that what we're calling it now?"

"Absolutely."

You roll your eyes again, and you let out a huff of exasperation, but the amusement is clear on your face. "I can't believe I missed this."

"Yes, well, I can't believe I missed your sunny disposition," Obi-Wan responds, and he flashes you a crooked grin. "It's been so dreary around here without your interminable optimism and boundless energy."

"Don't forget my sparkling wit," you add as you elbow him.

"I could never."

The two of you continue to bicker, your banter moving easily between the two of you. It's almost like no time has passed, and the comfort and the ease is soothing, familiar. It feels right, the two of you back together again, and you can't help but feel hopeful, the excitement building. You have a lot to live up to, a lot to prove, but it's nice to have friends by your side.

For the first time in a long while, the weight of the galaxy feels a little lighter, the burden a little easier to bear.

taglist: @baddest-batchers @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear

@thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @aynavaano

@ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon

@heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bimboshaggy @bunny7567

@lostqueenofegypt @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak

@ghostymarni @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay

@callsign-denmark @julli-bee @moonychicky

[kotekenobii]

It's fascinating to me that Obi-Wan is never, ever surprised when Cody returns his lightsaber to him. He simply trusts that Cody will always recover it and be there to give it back to him. This, of course, implies that Obi-Wan loses his lightsaber enough for Cody to make a habit of giving it back to him, and that Obi-Wan trusts Cody will find his lightsaber in the mess of battle - we don't see him worry about losing his lightsaber because he knows and trusts that Cody will find it and give it back. For pretty much half the time we see Cody in ROTS, he's got Obi-Wan's lightsaber on his hip. And then he almost forgets to give it back to Obi-Wan. Just how used to carrying a lightsaber is he? He certainly handles it enough that he's got a lightsaber clip on his belt, and he's clearly very comfortable with it. There's so much in the background whenever they're in a scene together that implies far more depth to their relationship - it's something that's been built up and cultivated over time and I love that it's not a spur-of-the-moment thing, it's something real and solid and wonderful. Something that's built on mutual trust and respect. I want to see the first time Cody gave it back to him and to see the surprise on Obi-Wan's face, and Obi-Wan coming to a realisation after the third or fourth time Cody hands it to him that this is a pattern and just one more thing he can rely on his commander about. That he trusts him with both his metaphorical and literal life. That Cody is even more extraordinary than he thought.

[catboydogma]

hard to hold/cold to touch

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

codywan week 2024 day 2 prompts, sol edition: aro/ace codywan, beating rival suitors off with a stick

notes: title from doctor blind by emily haines & the soft skeleton. guys i'm not behind ok. everyone else is just so far ahead. but i am perfectly on schedule. ok? ok.

wc: 1,785

cross-posted to ao3

His General had a problem.

Well, no. Cody had to rephrase that, even in his head:

His General had many problems. The problem in this instance was that some fool of an ambassador was laying tentacles on his person.

“Sir,” Cody said, stepping out from behind a pillar. Largely ornamental. But it might provide cover if one of the upper balconies became a hot spot. This hall was full of ornamental corners. It would have been a tactical nightmare to take. But to defend—even if the “defending” here was done for the sake of one body and not the entire building—it was a blessing in disguise. In hideous crown molding disguise.

“Ah, Commander,” the General said, betrayed only by the tightness at the corners of his eyes and the tense register of his voice. “Ambassador A’orusk was just remarking on the fine fighting condition of our battalion. I must say, it is all due to the rigorous training regimen Commander Cody has—”

“You’ll need to step back from General Kenobi, Ambassador.” Cody turned to fix the Ambassador with a gimlet-eyed stare. “Security mandate.”

Ambassador A’orusk let out a delicate, faint “ah” and let their tentacles slither off Kenobi’s shoulders and upper arm. Cody had read the briefing. A bold overture on the Ambassador’s part, projecting their interest so blatantly. Any other might have been flattered. Kenobi had been making a good showing of it, at any rate. Now that there was a witness—Cody—the good Ambassador’s honeyed gestures fell flat, and they made their excuses shortly before moving away to… more fruitful endeavors.

“My thanks, Cody,” Kenobi said under his breath, leaning in towards Cody and smoothing his hands over his front. This close, Cody could just make out a whiff of Kenobi’s aftershave: amber. Cloves. A hint of bergamot. The familiar smell made something loose and warm take up in Cody’s chest. Something that felt treacherously like unconditional trust.

“Not a problem, General,” Cody said blandly. “Can’t have the Separatists make off with the goods before we’ve even gotten to the good part of the evening.”

Kenobi snorted and his eyes crinkled at the corners as his moustache twitched with good humor. “Astute as ever. What in the galaxy would I ever do without you?”

Cody checked his vambrace discreetly for incoming messages. The only part of his armor he’d been allowed to keep had been this—for the built-in comm. “I expect you’d muddle along without me somehow.”

“You underestimate yourself, my Commander,” Obi-Wan said. It didn’t quite feel like a rebuke.

“Maybe so,” Cody allowed. He’d long since learned to pick his battle carefully when it came to Obi-Wan. The man liked to argue—for fun. He enjoyed it. It was like a sporting event to him.

Cody was coming to realize that this was not an isolated occurrence. His General was an attractive man. The problem wasn’t that Cody knew this. This was not a Cody problem. It was not an issue that Cody, by and large, had ever been worried about. No. The problem was that the entire rest of the galaxy did. Which made it Cody’s problem in an entirely different way. Worse, it made it a Cody-and-Kenobi problem.

The next attempt upon Kenobi’s person came from an unexpected front. They were bound for a brief resupply on Triple-Zero when an invitation to some money laundering… ah, no, the term to politicians was fundraising… gala in the Senate rotunda. Naturally, this meant that Cody and a squad of Ghost’s finest accompanied the General. Not even here was free of dangers. Evidently.

Kenobi showed him around the rotunda and then around the arch-ceilinged hall the gala would take place in. Cody noted each red flag and ostentatious exit with a gimlet eye. Kenobi was giving him the side eye that meant his General was onto him, but Cody was fine with that. He’d seen how uncomfortable Kenobi could get when someone seemed intent on getting into his Temple-issue pants, even as beige as they were. Cody had his back, if nothing else. An impressive 83% of all assassinations occurred where the mark was most comfortable: at home. In the middle of a trusted routine. In the privy. Daily morning jog. Etcetera. Kenobi wasn’t comfortable in the Senate but he was most comfortable on Coruscant.

Ergo: this was the best time and optimal place to have Kenobi assassinated. Or something. Cody gave the skylights set high into the ceiling a look of deep misgivings.

“You’re plotting,” Kenobi murmured out of the side of his mouth. He managed to make it look like a gracious smile from the front.

“You’re plotting,” Cody replied. “I’m securing a perimeter.”

Only three busybodies tried their luck before the rest got the message: a handsy Pantoran aide that made Kenobi turn a delicate shade of oyster white before Cody firmly removed them from the vicinity. A tall Bith that liked to stand much too close to people who were clearly occupied with other matters was summarily dispatched to another side of the room. Sly fucking Moore, of all the people, attempted to get much too close to Cody’s General—despite the polite and subtle backpedaling Kenobi was hastily executing.

“That could have gone better,” Kenobi murmured as he watched Moore storm away.

Cody might have orchestrated a little accident with a Senator carrying a too-full glass of something viscous and lurid pink.

“You should try putting a bag over your head,” Cody said blandly. He accepted a plate of little shrimp creatures in a citrus reduction and ran a discreet scanner over it before handing it off to Kenobi.

“Doesn’t work nearly as well as you’d think it might,” Kenobi said mournfully. “You should try some, Cody.”

And then he held a shrimp creature out to Cody pinched between thumb and forefinger. A howl of laughter from the peanut gallery—blessedly silent up until now—split his earpiece. Cody winced and looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder to where Gregor was consumed by a violent fit of coughing.

“Of course, sir.” Cody leaned forward an inch and took the shrimp in one bite. The tart pop of citrus complimented the fresh and light texture of the… thing. There was a little crunch of tiny eyes as he bit down. “Very… nice.”

“I thought so as well.” Kenobi nodded as if confirming a hypothesis and passed the now-empty tray back to a silent serving droid.

It wasn’t until they got back to the Negotiator that Kenobi confessed. They were taking off early enough the next morning that the both of them had deemed it unnecessary work to bunk either in the Temple or on-planet barracks, respectively. The lartie was nearly empty—Gregor had taken his boys to 79’s and no one else was out this late and wanting to take a transport back up to the venator. Cody didn’t envy his Captain the hangover he was about to be working through.

“I’m grateful to you,” Kenobi said, staring off through the tiny viewport that washed the planet surface out in shades of blue and slate.

Cody rocked from his heels to the balls of his feet and back. Kenobi would have to elaborate a little more than that.

“I didn’t quite cotton on to what you were doing until a few tens ago,” Kenobi continued.

Hm. That was… unexpected. Cody frowned in thought. He hadn’t started doing an official security detail until tonight. Oh, it wasn’t like he’d leave his General unsupervised in the middle of a hotbed or something. But Jedi were “free” “spirits.” Whatever that meant. Outside of meaning that Kenobi liked to hare off with little to no warning on a sheer whim. And he hadn’t exactly run the official thing past Kenobi until last night.

“But even as long as it took me to realize, I, I hope you know how very much I appreciate it.” Kenobi cleared his throat and folded his hands into the sleeves of his robe. Cody nearly barked at him to put a hand on the grab bar that was there for that very purpose. Nearly.

“Comes with the territory, sir,” Cody said slowly. He thought he knew what his Jedi was talking about. But the mind of Kenobi was a strange and labyrinthine thing.

“Well, you have always excelled in going above and beyond.” The look Kenobi sent him was warm with fondness. “I know I never said anything about… my discomfort of, ah… certain kinds of relationships and advances. It must seem strange, after you met Satine, and the sort of… carrying on I do with a few of our adversaries.”

Yes, the flirting. Cody’s mind slowly started to churn into a higher gear as he stared at the wall of the lartie. “Flirting’s one thing, sir,” he finally said. “And I wouldn’t presume to know what sort of relationships… that all’s your business.” And… it was safe enough to admit in the privacy of his own mind. Perhaps they were kindred spirits, in that way.

“I appreciate your perspective on the matter.” Kenobi closed his eyes for a moment and seemed to relax. The stress of the evening sloughed off his shoulders and fell to the floor. Cody could practically see his spine straightening and his spirits lifting. “I only wish more beings shared your sentiments. Ah, I suppose one might say that I open myself up to that kind of attention by virtue of being such a public figure. But expectations… can be so terribly twisted. But there’s a kind of distance inherent in… you know, I’m not sure I’m making much sense.”

“We must both be more tired than we’re letting on,” Cody said drily. He certain felt dead on his feet, and all he’d done this evening was follow Kenobi around and insert himself between wannabe suitors and his General. Sometimes bodily. “I think I understand what you mean, sir.” There was a difference between the kinds of relationships one chose, the kind of dynamic that was forged and strengthened over time, as opposed to expectations and roles forced upon you by others or an outside perspective. For such an insightful man, Kenobi really did struggle with putting his feelings into words sometimes.

Other times, he just didn’t talk about them at all.

“Yes, that must be it,” Kenobi said, voice quiet. He leaned his shoulder against Cody’s. The heat of his body could be felt clear through the Jedi robes and through Cody’s own dress grays. Cody leaned back into the touch and finally let that thought—that elusive feeling—the thing almost like a half-remembered dream of unconditional, unwavering trust and safety—sink through him and fill his chest.

[ohyousillything]

General Skywalker, reporting to command after a mission gone fubar and sweating profusely: We soldiered through and got out ok. Some mistakes were Made.

Marshall Commander Cody, finally looking up from his datapad: Murders. Some Murders were Made.

Anakin: *sweats*

[antianakin]

I recognize that this mostly happens because Obi-Wan is and always has been a direct foil for Anakin, but I am SO tired of all of Obi-Wan's more canon love interests ending up being more about making commentary on Anakin and Anidala than they are on exploring OBI-WAN. It's just sad and I'm so tired of it and I think that until people are willing to write a romance for Obi-Wan that isn't actually about Anakin at all, Obi-Wan should just be made off-limits for romance plot lines entirely. Leave the man alone, please, I am begging you.

[alittlegreeen]

Listen I know this is old news but the thought crossed my mind again with the new season coming out and its been eating at me

You know how, in season one, Tech refers to Echo as "more machine than man" in the medical bay? And all of his fans were chomping at the bit to explain it away? "It's just how he talks!" "He was making an objective observation!" "He couldn't tell he was being rude!" "That's not an insulting statement!"

You know where else that phrase has been used in star wars before? A long time before it was used for Echo? Obi Wan Kenobi uses it to describe Darth Fucking Vader in the original trilogy. You know, as far as wider star wars goes, the face of the dark side? The guy whose transformation from a jedi to a sith was most visibly marked by him being grievously injured and put in a prosthetic suit?

Whether or not, in universe, Tech would have had good or neutral intentions with that statement, the writers of the show are capable of understanding the connotation there. Did they seriously decide to use the same phrase for Echo, an objectively kind and sensible person that tries to do the right thing, with Anakin Fucking Skywalker, a goddamn sith apprentice, who, at the time, was The Bad Guy half in charge of an empire that he could use to enact his Evil Whims, just because they're both amputees?!? The writing for the bad batch seems to be overall dogshit but good god.

[jewishcissiekj]

thinking about Quinobi again for no reason... the type to write each other the most romantic love letters from across the galaxy. to speak fondly of each other to anyone willing to listen. to share the most heartfelt conversations every single time they meet. ew. I hate them.

[lunavour]

i'm thinking about maul and obi-wan again no one fucking touch me

[varpusvaras]

My one biggest gripe with the Obi-Wan Kenobi show is that they decided to make Celly Breha's sister. Like. First of all I am miffed by the fact that they couldn't bother to read wookiepedia for longer than two seconds. And second of all. They have now robbed Bail from being the brother with only sisters. That shit is the best trope that exists in fiction and in real life istg. Ask my older brother. Before our baby brother was born he only had sisters and his life was fucking crazy. Bail deserves that so much.

[tennessoui]

I enjoy any reverse age fic that keeps Anakin realistically dark (and dramatic - I am an eViL SItH!!!) while also letting twink Obi-Wan be like, nope, Jedi live and Palpatine dies, those are the rules for fucking me <3

its very important to me that anakin thinks and acts like he's the most powerful person in the whole galaxy but then his soaking wet pathetic chihuahua of a padawan actually holds both of their leashes yeah

padawan obi-wan is like kill your master for me it would make me happy for a millisecond and anakin does the math and is like. perfect ok will do immediately. is there anyone i can kill for you that would make you happy for a whole minute? maybe thirty whole seconds? just let me know. i'll do it. i'll do it so fast.

[fortes-fortuna-iogurtum]

sometimes you read something for a fandom you were crazy over years ago and you encounter one of the ships you loved back then and you just think “yeahhhh…. this is still great :) way to go younger me you were so based about this actually :)”

[marvelstars]

Why Palpatine LOVED Anakin’s Mechanical Arm

In the novelization of ROTS Dooku said to Sidious how he was disgusted by Anakin´s mechanical arm, he was revolted at the idea of recruiting an ally who wasn´t entirely human, comparing Anakin to general Grievous. To Dooku´s surprise Sidious replied that Anakin´s mechanical arm was exactly what made him the perfect man for their plans. He saw Anakin´s arm as a permanent symbol of the sacrifices he had to make for peace and justice. That arm was a badge of heroism that Anakin had to publicy wear for the rest of his life, forcing everyone to look at him and see his honor, courage and integrity. Sidious said that Anakin was perfect just the way he was.

[quietwingsinthesky]

the doctor had 13 kids and can’t even raise a child. Probably because all of his kids were murdered. Maybe he’s afraid it’ll happen again if he ever raises a kid

I think the doctor would visit them like..once every few years. He doesn’t want another river situation 👍

that's their weird uncle doctor (luke voice: and old ben kenobi hateesss him) i like to think it's the doctor's influence telling adventuring stories that turns luke into a starry-eyed kid full of wonderlust for the stars, and also the doctor's influence that turns leia into a insurrectionist of the empire. he has many influences.

[hotpinkboots]

Was bored so made I made some Star Wars Prequels memes to pass the time