#obikin movie night

[spacewombatty]

Anakin begins every movie upright, is leaning dangerously to the side halfway through, and ends the movie with his head in Obi-Wan’s lap without fail. The Jedi is unfazed everytime, and just moves to set his popcorn bowl on his padawan’s forehead. When he wants his food salted, Obi-Wan puts on Anakin’s favorite space telenovelas.

[tennessoui]

I get why 19 year old Hunger Games AU Anakin didn't think of it (no one could predict the papers stuck together), but 25-year old Anakin is going to be kicking himself for not just threatening the pregnant woman beforehand (it would be SUCH a shame if anyone didn't volunteer for all mentor activity; it would also be SUCH a shame if anything happened to your baby :))).

so true smh anakin, the threat option was RIGHT there

but honestly i feel like as insane as anakin is before he even goes into the games, the games really bring that all to the surface & make him realize that whoa! violence and threats make things happen! :D he can get his way if people are scared of him! :D threats work! :D

also anakin post-Games would probably like....want to thank all the other Victors. he never even thought about going into the arena, and he never would have volunteered but they gave him a reason to volunteer and now he's closer with obi-wan than ever! he didn't realize how much of himself obi-wan was keeping from him (which, rude and he's a little bitter about that) because he thought he wouldn't understand, but now that they're both victors, obi-wan opens up to him way more!

he'd never actually say out loud that he's thankful to have gone into the arena, but he can't argue with the results

(but on the mentoring question, i think anakin post-Games would have no trouble at all finding another Victor to be the mentor that isn't obi-wan. if it's ever obi-wan, anakin will just volunteer now. easy as pie. it's like. a work trip to him.)

[tideswept]

Obikin pretty woman au 😏😏😏😏

anon, this has been in my inbox for ages. just. torturing me. tempting me. winking lasciviously at me.

and I have to ask myself every time I come across it, do I really want to write another prostitute!Anakin AU? Does it have to be Anakin? And in my heart of hearts, I know that the answer is yes, and I should accept it. Because damn, could he pull off the outfits.

but I dunno. I'm weird? I like to do weird things? also never actually adapted a movie to a fic? Not yet anyway.

(Practical Magical AU fic, when will it be your turn?)

so I think

.....

okay, let the brain percolate

I think it should be Anakin who finds Obi-Wan. Who is just. He's had a bad day, okay? Like, fantastically fucking bad, big rich money business deals, he's stressed and tired of being the Negotiator but lives are at stake here, employees who need to keep their jobs, so he has to swallow back the stress--but he's been swallowing back that stress for years now.

He's tired.

He didn't mean to just walk out of the 5-star hotel. What he needed was a drink, and not the kind they served at the hotel bar, charging 50 credits for a shot. No, he needs it cheap and dirty and burning on the way down.

"Shit, you look awful," the voice says, and a body sits down next to him on the curb. Normally Obi-Wan wouldn't appreciate a stranger appearing out of nowhere and getting so close to him, but this stranger smells nice, actually. And they're warm, whereas he seems to have lost his jacket at some point between the first and third bar.

"You can't be out here like this, you know? Gonna get mugged and left for dead."

The voice is young enough that it bothers Obi-Wan. And that's how he meets Anakin Skywalker, who's also tired, except he's only twenty-two and hasn't been further than a hundred miles from where he was born. Anakin's got a black eye because he got a fight with a nerfherder and he's not that bothered, some people think that's hot. It's not really going to cut into his profits.

He lights up and offers the death stick to the strange, classy man that definitely shouldn't be sitting on the street after midnight on that liminal strip of road where respectable turns to grimy, and pulls off his high heeled boots and tucks them to the side, switching them over for practical running shoes he keeps in his bag.

Obi-Wan just sort of stares. And then takes the death stick. And for some reason, he's just drunk enough that he starts talking about the shit day he's had, and the even worse week he's about to have.

Anakin snorts and makes catty comments that have Obi-Wan smiling, because that's exactly what he's too polite to say. Too much the Negotiator.

"God," Anakin says after the death stick has long crumbled to ashes. "You need either a serious marathon fuck or drugs. Maybe both. And then to quit your job and do something that doesn't make you want to die."

And Obi-Wan thinks that's the greatest idea he's ever heard.

"Are you--" he nods at the boots. They're rather unmistakable in purpose. And the boy is hardly dressed for the cold night.

"If you're a cop, no," Anakin answers. "If you're asking for how much for the night, you're too fucking drunk, my guy, and I'm too tired to get vomited on. You want me to call you a car or are you just gonna sit here until someone does decide to mug you?"

Obi-Wan chooses the car.

(He comes back the next day to find Anakin. Cue the rest of the movie? CLOTHING MONTAGE. Uhhhhh Qui-Gon as the hotel clerk?)

[mochalottie]

Masterlist

(Because even though no one asked for one...I wanted to do it to keep my brain entertained)

Avatar (Cameron Movies)

Oel Ngati Kameie (37k+ words) Series about Spider being adopted into the Sully. Post Way of Water.

To protect (2k words) Oneshot about Spider being injured on the SeaDragon.

Baby Mine (6.5k words) 5 times Spider called someone Mom or Dad and one time someone called him Son.

Eywa Provides (23k words) Multi chapter, complete - Feral Na'vi Spider living alone in the forest who is, surprise surprise, adopted by the Sullys.

Our Hearts Beat in the Womb of the World (115k words) Multi chapter, complete - Spider is adopted by Tonowari and Ronal. That's it. That's the fic.

For the Nights and Days of Life (387k words) Multi chapter, complete - All humans leave Pandora after the final battle leaving Spider behind. Oh, and he’s blessed by Eywa. That’s it. That’s the fic.

You Brought light, and new life (78k words) Multi chapter, complete - The comfort fic/sequel that everyone (surprisingly) wanted and I definitely needed.

What am I supposed to do, dance with it? (8k) Oneshot - Spider turns into a tiger. That's it. That's the fic.

Let the Wind Carry Us to the Clouds Multi chapter, ongoing - Aka the ikran racing!au I've snatched up and twisted into my own version, which features some Nocorro but centrics around our boy Spider!

Every Family has Someone Who Falls (160K+) Multi chapter, complete - the time loop au where Spider is thoroughly put through the wringer.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

When You Can't Look on the Brightside, I'll Sit with You in the Dark (63k words) Multi chapter - a Zukka Alice in Wonderland AU where Sokka is Alice and Ozai is the Red King.

If Music is the Food of Love, Play On (4k words) Oneshot - Zuko essentially pining after Sokka in a Modern AU

Final Fantasy XV

Stronger than the Tides (13k words) Oneshot - Mermaid AU for Reverse Big Bang 2023

Blessed be the Boys Time Can't Capture (6k words) Oneshot - heads of families in Eos are vessels for the Greek Gods.

FFXV Song ficlets Series of Oneshots based on songs by Lauv. Includes multiple ships and AUs.

New Dawn (74k words) Multi chapter, complete - Ignis x Male!OC

Star Wars Prequels

Rock You Like a Hurricane Multi chapter, second part abandoned -The Obikin Band AU with Obi-Wan on drums, Anakin with vocals, Rex on Bass and Ahsoka on Guitar

The Mandalorian

Chakaar (22k words) Oneshot - Din Djarin x Male!OC Where a curious thief gets too involved with a grumpy Mandalorian and gains a family in return.

Inheritance Cycle

The World Ahead Multi chapter, incomplete - The Eragon/LOTR crossover that no one seemed to need, but two people very much wanted.

The Witcher

Destiny Changed Series of Oneshots - Jaskier is a Witcher and falls in love for Geralt the Nobleman. That's it, that's the series.

Voltron Legendary Defender

Space Family to the Rescue (1k words) Oneshot - Sick Keith is cared for by his Space Family.

Love is Endless (6k words) Oneshot - Keith pines for Lance in a Modern AU.

(Techni)Colour Vision (60k words) Multi chapter, complete - Klance through many film AUs.

[dilfdarthvader]

The official 'OP has read 500 Merlin fics in a month' rec list

I am truly deep in Merthur hell and have recently hit around ~500 fics read for this fandom so far. As such, I wanted to compile my favorite Merthur fics so far.

(if y'all like rec lists, i might do an obikin rec list too!)

Secretary by Candymacaron

rating: E

Summary: Job-hunting has familiarized Merlin with rejection. Most of the listings in the paper require qualifications he lacks, or prior job experience no eighteen year old would have. One listing sticks out at Merlin—a simple advert, with the word ‘Secretary’ written in bold typeface. (A Secretary Movie/BBC Merlin AU in which a fragile Merlin learns to love his job, himself, getting spanked, and his boss. All in that order.)

one of the first fics i read in this fandom and!!!! it's such a good secretary au (which is always a classic for any kink readers)

The Wedding Night by s0mmerspr0ssen

rating: E

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: The consummation of a royal marriage must be witnessed by a third party. Naturally, for Arthur and Gwen, that witness is Merlin.

My bookmark note read: "did i start watching merlin for the show or for the smut fic? this fic makes me think it's the latter". This ship is just SO GOOD too.

Next to You (It's the Rule) by LunaMyLove

rating: T

summary: Arthur and Merlin have a special relationship. They always have, even when they were prince and servant. While many question it when first noticing, eventually it becomes an understanding in Camelot—and even among some other countries—that where there is Arthur, there is Merlin. And, where there is Merlin, there is Arthur. Or Arthur and Merlin's relationship as witnessed and explained by others. Also, or Five times someone realizes that Merlin is the Queen, one time Merlin realizes it himself, and one time he owns it.

such a fluffy read that had me giggling and kicking my feet in the air and twirling my hair. instant reread

all the scars at the start (I could’ve showed you) by AgapantoBlu

rating: T

ship: Gwen/Merlin/Arthur

Summary: [In which Gwaine accidentally brings Merlin's dead girlfriend back to life as a ghost. Leave it to Arthur and Gwen to overreact over every small thing, but being very chill about the very big thing.]

you'll need to be logged into AO3 to read this, but boy is it worth it. i was sobbing. full on sobbing. 10/10

Glow Gold by BelleCrow

rating: E

Summary: Merlin takes the final battle into his own hands after Mordred's blade finds Arthur's heart. Wielding power over life and death there on the battlefield, Merlin's magic is revealed. But the only surviving witness is Arthur, and he has carefully spun the tale to keep Merlin's magic a secret. The King is determined to keep it so until he can drag the truth from Merlin's lips and press his own revelations back into his sorcerer.

this fic gave me a magic kink. i had to keep pausing reading bc holy shit.

Fit for a King by Clea2011

rating: E

Summary: Merlin is a prize fit for a king. But the king he was intended for hasn't taken that prize. When the king of the faeries loses his big-eared, argumentative and troublesome bedmate, he orders his people to find a replacement. Nobody disobeys Oberon. Ever. But Merlin is Arthur's.

FAE! FICS! i love love love this fic and it was so fun and full of some fun familiar characters

so close and I'm halfway to it by ariadne_odair

rating: M

Summary: Merlin swears he doesn’t go looking for trouble, but it seems to follow him around regardless. After being ambushed by a group of bandits, it’s up to Arthur and Merlin to rescue the rest of the knights. Of course this involves journeying through a forest full of magical creatures- because nothing in Merlin’s life is ever easy. That would be more than enough for Merlin to deal with, but nights alone in the wilderness and escaping death every five minutes, have a funny way of bringing two people together. Merlin doesn’t want to reveal his true feelings to Arthur, but then he never wanted to reveal his magic to anyone, either. And look how that turned out. It's a lot easier to manage Merlin's secrets between them when they're surrounded by nothing but trees. But Arthur and Merlin will have to return to Camelot eventually. Merlin's destiny might just be closer than he thinks.

and finally, the first fic in a decade that kept me up until 2am to read. this fic made me fall in love with fics again.

[himboskywalker]

Heyy boo, do you have a book that is not star wars related that you wish you could read for the first time or reread all the time?

I am searching for books recommendations and I am pretty open about every genre, maybe not horror but everything else is totally fine.

My number one book recommendation that I will always obnoxiously shove in everyone’s faces is Lord of the Rings. It is my heart and soul and favorite thing in the world and if you’ve never read the trilogy I highly recommend it. But I also have quite a few other recs!

Anything written by Andy Weir. “The Martian” is his best known work,which they made the Matt Damon movie of,and while I do love it “Project Hail Mary” is my favorite of his and one of my favorite sci-fi books of all time.

I loved “To Sleep in a Sea of Stars” which was Christopher Paolini’s sci-fi debut a couple years ago but he just came out with its prequel “Fractal Noise” and I liked it even more.

For some good old fashioned space opera brilliance I recommend the “Final Architecture” trilogy by Adrian Tchaikovsky. The last book of the series just came out and I DEVOURED it. Tchaikovsky’s Children of Time,Ruin,and Memory are also phenomenal, you really just can’t go wrong with him.

For more space opera and politics I highly recommend Arkady Martine,she DEBUTED with “Memory Called Empire” which won all sorts of awards. The sequel also recently came out but I haven’t gotten the chance to read it.

I’m in the middle of reading Pierce Brown’s “Red Rising” saga,which I would describe as adult Hunger Games,and have thoroughly enjoying it as well!

For fantasy I love Samantha Shannon’s “Priory of the Orange Tree” and “A Day of Fallen Night”. You’ll get varying opinions of what to read first,I read Priory when it first came out so that’s my biased opinion.

I’m a massive fan of “She Who Became the Sun” by Shelly Parker-Chan and their sequel “He Who Drowned the World” and I want it to go on record I read SWBS when it first came out and before it blew up *flips hair*

R.J. Barker’s “Tide Child” trilogy is awesome,first book of that series is “The Bone Ships.” It’s high seas fantasy with dragon bone ships and epic war and amazing world building.

I always highly recommend “Gideon the Ninth” by Tamsyn Muir and now also the rest of the books in the series. I think the usual pitch is lesbian necromancers in space.

I cannot cannot recommend “The Shadow of the Gods” by John Gwynne enough! It’s quintessential epic fantasy told as a Norse epic and it’s in my top five of modern fantasy books.

While I have serious beef with Song of Achilles just like our fellow obikin Will,I did love and devour Madeline Miller’s “Circe.” In every way I think it’s her superior work.

I can’t recommend fantasy without recommending “The Grace of Kings” by Ken Liu. His entire series will blow your socks off,but the first book won nearly every award for fantasy books that have ever existed.

I’m a huge fan of R.F Kuang’s “The Poppy War” series although I’ve heard this one is a contentious recommendation. I think this series is hate or love it but if for whatever reason you don’t vibe with this series I also highly recommend Kuang’s “Babel.”

If you want something a little less well known I could chew through drywall over Simon Jimenez’s “The Spear Cuts Through Water.” It was in my top five of 2023 release books.

I can also make a separate rec list of less new books and overall classics I always recommend or gift to people,both fiction and nonfiction!

[underacalicosky]

15 questions for 15 friends

Thanks @fangeek-girl @sky-kenobye @willameena @kato-neimoidia @to-proudly-go and @dark--whisperings for the tags! ❤️

1. Are you named after anyone?

Supposedly, I was named after a movie character played by Liz Taylor. I’ve never seen the movie though.

2. When was the last time you cried?

Two nights ago while we were watching Christopher Robin (with Ewan McGregor) because stories about growing up and forgetting about childhood always gives me the feels.

3. Do you have kids?

Two kids.

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I wasn’t allowed to play sports when I was younger. Once I was in college, I realized that I was actually pretty athletic. I’m old now and my knees are creaky, so I don’t play anything anymore.

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Yup. All the time.

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

How they treat others

7. What's your eye colour?

Dark brown

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings, why else would I be in the Star Wars fandom?? But yes, that’s behind my obsession with giving Obikin a happy ending in all my fics.

9. Any talents?

I’m somewhat artistically inclined, I think. When I was a child, I wasn’t really given the opportunity to explore artistic things (do you see a pattern with my childhood lol?) so I don’t know if I’m necessarily talented. But I’ve always felt most at peace when I’m doing something creative and lately that’s been in the form of writing fics.

10. Where were you born?

In a northeast US state

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing fanfic? I don’t have a lot of spare time between working, doing Mom Things, and trying to keep the household running, but I love baking and I try to squeeze in time to write fics and fiddle around on tumblr at night after the kids go to bed.

12. Do you have any pets?

One cat. He’s very sweet and very grumpy at the same time.

13. How tall are you?

5' 1”

14. Favourite subject in school?

Art.

15. Dream job?

In an ideal world, money isn’t a concern and I would spend part of my day decorating cakes and cupcakes and the other part reading and writing.

Thanks so much for the ask! I’ve lost track of who’s been tagged! So I’m tagging anyone who hasn’t been tagged yet and wants to share! ❤️

[topwan-obikin]

Hello dear obikins, and welcome to our second day of submissions!

We have a nice little batch for you on our ao3 collection today too, so feast on these wonderful creations. Don’t forget to leave kudos and comments to show the authors your appreciation!

twitter thread here.

No more blind dates by Anonymous

Padmé sets Anakin up on a blind date… again, and despite his annoyance he goes and of course he gets stood up, let alone waiting at the movie theatre looking like a lost puppy. Thankfully someone else finds him.

Bunnywan & Nyanakin by Anonymous

Furry-ified bunny Obi-Wan is entering his mating season and just wants to fuck his catboy Anakin all the time!

It's Always Been You by Anonymous

GFFA-verse Unable to admit to their feelings, Anakin and Obi-Wan seek alternate means to relieve themselves of their sexual frustrations. or The idiots are in love and too stubborn to do anything about it. In classic Obikin bumbling style, they accidentally end up picking each other at a gloryhole.

sleep won't come the whole night through by Anonymous

Anakin Skywalker had been in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi since he was nine-years-old, before he even understood what love was, or what being in love actually meant. But while Little Ani had always dreamt of romance and a happily ever after where Obi-Wan was concerned, eighteen-year-old Anakin knew a fuck without expectations of more was all he’d ever get with the man that would always have the biggest piece of his heart.

Art by @yatsukisakura

Obi admires Ani's perseverance against the odds, and using food as love language - after all, food will be more enjoyable with someone you love.

and an update on a fic posted yesterday, Get My Way!

For yesterday submissions click here or go directly to our ao3 collection!

[sky-kenobye]

⛵️ Five Fandoms, Five Ships ⛵

Get to know the blogger, via five different ships from five different fandoms!

Thanks for the tag @underacalicosky !!

Putting it under the cut because this is LONG, sorry.

I love them your honor. Doesn't even have to be romantic, I just want to see them being obsessed about each other. I'm also a pretty big obianidala fan, hence why I added her too. (I'm a multishipper really. I have my otp but there's a lot of ships that I enjoy)

1. Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker(/Padmé Amidala) (Star Wars)

When I first watched star wars (not that long ago, I only watched it because I wanted to see the sequels in theater lmao) I wasn't a big fan of the prequels so I mostly ignored them, but then a couple years ago I randomly rewatched them in the middle of the night and suddenly I was obsessed. I'm not even sure how I ended up on AO3 (did I go look for obikin? Did I stumble on it? Idk) but eventually I started reading Pining in Preschool, then realised that @palfriendpatine66 was on tumblr, I started interacting with more people around here, and now I'm (slowly) writing fics, and I'm having the time of my life here, so thanks Pal!

I don't think any if my past fandom brainrots reached my current level so I'm pretty sure I'm here for the long haul (at least it's not stopping anytime soon).

It's not super obvious here but I'm actually a huge Marvel fan (well, the MCU, I've never read a comic), and especially Captain America. Stucky is just, 🤌 so tasty (a lot of similarities with obikin actually imo). I'd like to talk to whoever thought "I'm with you 'til the end of the line" was a straight sentence to repeatedly say to your bro throughout an entire century though. Like?? I'm all for relationships that defy the boundaries of platonic and romantic, but still, that's kinda gay.

2. Steve Rogers/James "Bucky" Barnes(/Peggy Carter) (Marvel Cinematic Universe)

The first MCU movie I saw was actually captain america 2 (and not the first one lol) in theater, and I was instantly hooked, though since Endgame I've been less into it, since my fav is gone (and I have to agree with tumblr on that one: they're making too many movies and shows, I can't keep up 😩)

(And I'm still super salty about what they did to steve in canon, they should have killed him off instead of whatever the fuck that was, honestly)

I also added Peggy because she's great, and polyamory is so much better than love triangles or shipping wars. (I'm not polyamorous but I believe in their beliefs. I think it's because of the aromanticism)

Same as with obikin (and stucky too tbh) I don't really care how they love each other, I just care that they do. They're the most important person to each other, be it romantic, platonic, familial, idc.

3. John Watson/Sherlock Holmes (mostly BBC Sherlock, but from the RDJ movies and the books too)

I've obsessed over (non-existent) clues during the last season, and deluded myself into thinking they'd become canon, alas, it didn't happen.

I've translated a couple of fics in french for that ship, but I've never written for it (I thought about it tho), and I've read a lot. That's the fandom where I've read some of the best queerplatonic fics, and that's my favorite interpretation of the ship, especially sherlock being some flavor of aroace.

4. Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)

I love them as a queerplatonic relationship, and I genuinely think that's what they are in canon, the haters can suck it, that's not queerbaiting even if they dont become a canon couple.

Okay, I'm starting to see a patern here. Am I really that predictable? You can just copy-past what I said above.

(I'm fully on board with them being a couple though)

Hey, a straight ship! With a woman not added as a second thought!

5. Elizabeth Bennet/Mr Darcy (Pride and Prejudice)

Not quite the same vibe as the others, but I've read sooo many fics and books (straight up published fics lol), I've watched a bunch of different adaptations (even the one with zombies)... The worst part is that I think I've only read the og book once, oops.

I actually inherited that fandom from the women in my family lmao. My mom, sister and sister-in-law are all obsessed with it, so I read it to see what all the fuss was about and, yeah, I get it.

And that's it! There are other fandoms I'm into, and other ships in those fandoms, but that's pretty much it (the main one that's missing is Dinluke, the others are mostly smaller ones).

I'm not super actively in those fandoms (apart from Star Wars obviously) but i come back to them now and then. Usually I re-watch it then binge-read a bunch of fics (while my main fandom stays in the main spot in my brain) then I let it go again until it comes back (while obikin still stays in the main spot).

Also Harry Potter used to be my main obsession but JKR kinda ruined that for me so I'm not really into it anymore (hence why I didn't list it even though I have written fics for it).

Anyway that was way too long, if you've read all of this then props to you!

I'm tagging: @cottonraincoat @fem-anakin-skywalker @kingdomvel @ineffable-snowman @arobiwan (and whoever else wants to do it because I'm nosy and I want to know stuff about people)

[sendpseuds]

WIP game!

Rules: Make a new post with a 24-hour poll with the names of your wips, let it run, then write one sentence for every vote the winner received.

Thanks for the tag @callmevexx! Boy, I've been all over the place lately, let's see what we've got!!

for anyone unfamiliar, EIYWT refers to my ongoing [I promise it's ongoing] Obitine series "Even if You Wanted To" and "Resolute Theater" my Obikin Broadway AU [All on AO3]

[that-gay-jedi]

Fics I'd want to write but already have too many WIPs to even contemplate adding more to the fucking folder (posting concepts in the hopes they stop haunting me from underneath the floorboards), mostly crossovers:

Fix-it that's just Jedi reading children's books to smol Anakin. It starts when some kind and wise soul lends Obi-Wan The Snow Cat to help him and Anakin talk about grief in the wake of Qui-Gon's death. They help him explore his relationship to prophecy/destiny via The Paper Bag Princess. Room on the Broom to challenge win-lose thinking. Etc. As an adult, he asks Obi-Wan to reread The Velveteen Rabbit with him if he ever gets self-conscious after losing his arm and then we all cry.

Anakin gets therapy but it's inspired by Poe's The Premature Burial, like, they carefully and repeatedly and with plenty of emotional support etc expose him to a simulated reality in which he experiences losing everyone he loves but structured in such a way as to reduce the fear of it rather than make it more frightening, and Anakin thinks his prophecy nightmares of Obi-Wan dying are just (a very ineffective and unpleasant) part of the therapy until he complains and somebody on his care team goes "Wait, what?" which leads to Sidious getting discovered.

The Happy Man's Shirt but make it Vaderwan. Emperor Vader just wants to keep Luke from dying of melancholy, but now he's reluctantly learned a life lesson from a shirtless Obi-Wan and it's making him rethink this whole Sith Empire thing. I'm insane and there's something wrong with me.

Crossover with Were The World Mine (movie). Same age AU with Anakin as Timothy and Obi-Wan in a similar ish role to Jonathan (yes I know Obi-Wan isn't a jock but hear me out), Ahsoka as Frankie and Rex as Max, utter fucking chaos, what Timothy does with the flower is already such an Anakin move tbh

Shakespeare's Tempest but make it Vaderwan, with Vader turning away from the dark side being like Prospero breaking his staff. All about Letting Go(tm). Darth Vader redemption but with so much Force philosophy you'll want to stuff a sock in my mouth.

Crossover w/ The Last Unicorn. Sidious or Dooku as King Haggard, Anakin and Obi-Wan as Molly Grue and Schmendrick or alternatively as Amalthea & Prince Lir, Maul as the Red Bull, honestly *slaps roof* this baby can fit so many reinterpretations/explorations of all our favourite themes in it

Crossover with Celia S. Friedman's Coldfire Trilogy (When True Night Falls, Black Sun Rising, and Crown of Shadows). Listen, are you someone who ever thought it's hypocritical of Christians not to pray for/forgive/empathize with the Devil? Would you go nuts if a fantasy-brand priest homoerotically did exactly that? Okay now what if Anakin was the fantasy-brand Devil (eldritch af) and Obi-Wan risked his own beliefs/moral purity/etc for him, and they were magically connected and intextricably linked, all while the rough equivalent of the Force on their planet was trying to kill them and/or trying to communicate with them (it's complicated)?

Sailor Moon but make it obikin, because we all want to see the horror of Artoo doing Luna's job lmfao.

Crossover with Steph Swainston's Fourlands series (The Year of Our War, No Present Like Time, The Modern World etc). This one would have everything. Obikin with anidala parallels, Anakin making morally objectionable choices, horrifying combat scenes, Star Wars galactic politics meets the weirdest worldbuilding you've ever seen, blasphemy and sacrilege, needless theatrics in the midst of apocalyptic threats, wingfic tropes, idek how else to describe it but we are so missing out.

I'm sure more of these are gonna come smack me upside the head at some point but luckily for all of us I'm only haunted by things I read/watched 5+ years ago and eventually we'll run out of those.

[tennessoui]

Mobi-Wan, watching Clarice and Lecter's relationship in Silence of the Lambs, taking notes: now this is how you make your pretty bird stay

Cody, realising he fucked up by showing Mobi-Wan SotL ...

Rex, who didn't wanna be there: vod, can i go?

mobi-wan, tearing up at the end of silence of the lambs: he did it that sick bastard did it

rex, looking up from his phone: wait what? what did you just call him

Cody: in your mind what did the deranged serial killer just do, boss

mobi-wan: he made sure she knew she was his…that she knows he’s out there, always….that she was responsible for him getting away…..he made sure she’ll never go another day without thinking of him😻 what a guy. what a romance. what a movie.

[tideswept]

If you're offering Obikin tricks and or treats I will enjoy anything you've got!

This year, I’ve decided to let RNG decide the treats using this wheel! NOW. WHEEL. OF. FORT--[copyright snipers take me out]

🕯️ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴛʀᴇᴀᴛ ɪs…! 🎃

Movie/game AU! In this case, a... canon divergent Practical Magic AU?

--

Anakin doesn't know his father. Shmi won't talk about him. What she will say is that desert took him, because the desert takes all that they love. 

And in return, the desert gives them a way to survive. 

It hides their presence from the slavers, from the gangs, it whispers secrets to them. Where to find water. Where to find food. Where the shadows are cool. 

Anakin hates the sand. It's inescapable and pervasive and gets into the circuits he scrounges to buy—or steal—and it talks so loudly to him, a multitude of whispers that roar louder than the blasting sandstorms. 

On silent nights he turns his eyes to the indifferent stars, and wishes he were anywhere else. But nothing ever changes. The desert demands payment. The desert demands blood.

At age eight, it hits him horribly that he might not escape in time to avoid this fate of a broken heart. He doesn't want to lose anything else to the grit, to the heat, to the dry thirst. Not another droid, not another pet…

Not another person. 

There's salt in his veins. Salt and stone and mica. His mother say that she wasn't born on Tatooine, but the desert has seeped into her, and now there's Anakin, who feels the thrumming hearts of monsters roaming under the dunes, who can taste blood in the air from miles away. 

In the cool shadows of night, Anakin sneaks into the dunes with a purpose like salt rubbed raw into wounds. He slips past the krayt dragon skeleton, that enormous beast reduced to brittle bones, long swallowed by the sands. It’s a place he’s been warned about a thousand times, where even the desert might think twice before taking a soul—yet tonight, he doesn’t hesitate.

He reaches a cliffside, its face smoothed by the wind, but with patches of rock soft enough for the tip of his knife to score into. If in his veins runs the silt-mica-stone of the desert, then it has power.

The edge of the knife bites into his fingertips. The cliffside drinks up his blood.

He will make up the perfect person. Impossibly so.

Someone that can't possibly exist. Someone elegant but powerful. Peaceful and wild—a figure of pure contradiction. A being that does not exist is a being that the desert cannot take away from him.

Anakin knows he delves into magic older than the desert itself. A time when brackish water covered the world, salt for blood.

But Shmi has taught her son well. The desert always demands a price, yes, but it gives if the price is paid.

A stranger wielding light as blade...

📚 [send me a trick or treat!]

🍓 [quick jump to ask inbox]

[2dayihaveaheadache]

I hear my heart breaking tonight

Guess who is back? Obikin RomCon AU, still inspired by Mitski lyrics, found another gem in my drafts...

(a movie still that may or may not have been the inspiration for the last scene :-)

AU prompt: Anakin is born in messed up circumstances, forced to travel from one city to the next, never forming any sense of real identity or feeling of belonging until they somehow end up in Tatooine, a town somewhere in Oregon - but that can't be it, can it? Is that all he can expect of life? That is until he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, a boy two years his senior, so untouched by the bad sides of life, unreachable, that stands for everything that he can never have. An idolized love is born. But Obi-Wan deserves someone better than him, doesn't he?

(My roomate literally demanded for hours for Anakin's perspective on the happenings of "I glow pink in the night in my room" (here the original text if you are interested, it's not necessary to be read for this one) It turned into an expanded version with character study aspects (writer's anger I call it). Prepare for a long ride and a few TW unhealthy coping mechanisms, strong words, Anakin has anger issues and is need of a hug, seriously give the man a hug, and a steamy situation is mentioned. All thank my roommate for the idea and ENJOY!)

Anakin was six years old when the harsh realization of how fucked up his life is hit him for the first time. Fucked up, fuck, fucking, Life is shit. A cheap bitch with an open backdoor for every motherfucker. As an adult thinking back, these curses and slurs pass his mind. But back then, as an innocent kid, he might have not known them but til this day they express perfectly how he felt, rolling off his tongue with this perfectly burning sensation.

Fuck. It tastes as it feels. Harsh pronounced with a tad of spit to it, the k vibrating in the buccal cavity. Red-hot coal on his tongue.

Fucked up.

Sitting there on the terrace in their small backyard, his legs dangled over the edge, a crumpled tissue in his hands for his runny nose, it had hit him like a truck.

His 6th birthday was last week. A muffin on the breakfast table had marked the passing of another year in Oasis Spring. A cheap chocolate chip treat, that came bundled with others in the two-dollar section of the bakery aisle in the local supermarket. The muffins had smelled of lemon, not in a refreshing or natural way but in an annoyingly and excessively sugary manner, much like scented soap. The kind you find in tacky highway motels.

But his mother had smiled, so he had tried his best to smile too, forcing it onto his face. “Close your eyes, blow out your candles, and make a wish, Ani.”, she had said, “But don’t tell anybody or it won’t be granted.” He had nodded and then done as he was told, shut his eyelids, pursed his lips, and blown out his candles. Something inside him had halted. He hadn’t known what to wish for. Just one stupid wish. Something childish. Something other kids his age would wish for, but what did they actually wish for?

He didn’t know.

At the end of the day, what was there to wish for in Oasis Spring?

Six lit candles for another year stuck in the middle of the desert, six candles for more midnight microwaved lasagna dinner with plastic forks, country music, and fight at the breakfast table, six candles for more barking dogs in the neighboring backyards and the clinking of bottles next door, six years candles for another year closer to sweet sixteen and the taste of his first canned beer, six candles for being stuck here just like anybody else.

So, there he sat, a week later, barefoot on the terrace of their cookie-cutter tract house, with a runny nose and cargo shorts that barely covered his bruised knee. A band-aid had been plastered over it, carelessly, already peeling off. His skin itched, scratched from falling onto the sandy asphalt all day. He rubbed with his fingernails over the wound gingerly, careful to keep sand out of the scratch just like his mother had taught him. “You don’t want it to get infected.”

He was six and still not able to ride his bike properly. Shame tinted his cheeks and his eyes started to burn. Stupid training wheels. It was not his fault that here, in stupid Oasis Springs, all the roads were sandy and full of potholes.

And in this god-forsaken place, he would remain all his life, gradually becoming more and more like the others. The signs had always been there – the stale muffin with the floury dough for his birthday, the screaming adults inside doing “grown-up talk”, the bruises on his mum’s arm, the scratches on his knees. His life was a mess and he was stuck in it.

He was angry and at the same time he wanted to cry, so he pushed his knees up to his chest and swung back and forth, trying to calm himself down.

There was no one to console him. The other kids would only pinpoint at him and the adults were inside, the door closed, impossible for him to get in. His mum had sent him out to play like he was a toddler or a dog or some kind of pet. He scoffed angrily, wiping away his tears. She had knelt down to him, ruffling through his tousled curls, and told him that he should be a good boy now and go out and play with his friends – except he had no friends and she knew that.

He was too tiny for his age, all bones, and sinews, skinny like matchsticks, doe-eyed like a girl, always dressed in the same shorts and T-shirts from charity shops, and got his hair cut by his mum, which meant not at all or bowl cut at best. The curls reached down to his shoulders, and the ends were bleached by the desert sun, making him appear blond – like a stupid cherub or something. The kids at elementary school had dubbed him Tinykin. The perfect target to be made fun of. They grabbed him by the hair, rolled him over the asphalt (the one with the potholes) or stole his shoes – just as they had done today.

In the past, his mum had only smiled at him when she saw the bruises on his arms and legs. Bath day comes only once a week, Bathtuesday with lukewarm water and cheap shampoo. Sometimes he tried to avoid it, feeling ashamed of his marks, throwing a tantrum, and crying like a baby. Anything to escape her sad smile. Her treatment was always silent, almost mechanical. She never said anything and merely applied a band-aid over the black and blue marks, as if they would help anything. They never did, band aids were for open wounds, not bruised skin. But she felt better doing it, taking care of him. He recognized it in her eyes, so when he had to, he let her do it.

 Just for the sad smile to stop.

He found himself on the verge of crying ugly his doe-eyes out, which made him look like a girl, feeling rejected, put back into the role of a toddler, unable to communicate his pain, clenching his aching knee and thinking how fucking unfair the world was. It was not his fault he was born this way, with a girly face, with a mum that does only sadly smile, growing up in fucking Oasis Spring in Arizona, in the middle of the unforgiving desert, with grocery prices unpayable and no way to escape it all.

If he could, he would grab his bike and ride into the horizon just like the end in one of these western movies, he watched in the middle of the night when mum and the man they live with were absent – just with his bike and not on a horse. In some daydreams, he pictured himself with a cowboy hat, a smoke nipped between the lips, his plastic Nerf gun clicked to his belt like Terence Hill or Bud Spencer in “God Forgives… I don’t.”, a lasso coiled on his back, and a herd of cattle ahead.   

But of course, he was six and was not able to climb on a bike properly. He was chained to this place like a dog to its cage. A sob broke free from his throat. Fucking life. Never granting him anything.

Maybe he should have wished for that last week, the candles still burning in front of him atop his pitiful muffin.

He pulled his legs closer, hugging them like they were his only solace, much like he’d hold his stuffed bear at night. Maybe his mum was right with sending him out, he was behaving like a toddler, sniffing back tears with his eyes filled to the brim. Six years of age but still a tiny-winy crybaby inside. He will not cry; he told himself and clenched the underlip between his teeth, refusing to let the emotions take over. He was not a girl like his peers said he was. Not a Pussy like Bud Spencer or Terence Hill would say – or he imagine them saying.

So, he roughly wiped away the tears, that kept coming, and grimaced, feeling utterly ridiculous. Like an idiot with a painted face in the corner taking up space.

Inside the house, he could hear his mum’s angry shouts; followed by a loud thumb as if something had been thrown down to the ground. This time the fight seemed to be different. The arguments were typically loud and harsh, but never physically violent. The property was never damaged. The things they own were sacred because they only own so little. Shoes were worn until they fell apart and even then they were hoarded rather than thrown out. In this family, they seemed more inclined to hurt each other than their possession.

Later, the windows were shut, sealing in the noise, the screams, the world – leaving isolated Anakin outside.

The adults had forgotten about him. Anakin spent the night on the terrace, curled together into a ball, still barefoot with a runny nose, clinging to his clothes and shivering in the night’s sudden chill. Sleep did not come easy to him, it always slipped from his grasp before he could dive into it fully. No dream he could escape into. So, he spent the night staring at the starry sky, cursing fate, doubting God (he never much was of a religious person), or whatever higher-up power was up there.

Was it too much to ask for just someone to hug him? To tell him that it is ok to cry?

Or simply remember that he was freezing outside and open the door?

The next morning, his mum packed their bags, stuffing random things into their suitcases. She was angry, cheeks redden with frustration. It was the first time Anakin saw her in furious and it was almost like she was ashamed of her wrath. She wandered around the house, piling up his toys, cooking utensils and other random items. At one occasion, she threw a plate against the wall in her haste. Then she felt apologetic, collected the shards, clumsily pieced them together with one minute glue from the dollar tree and then at the end, kissed him on the crown of his hair, telling him that everything would be alright. “Don’t worry, Ani, I promise.” He wasn’t sure whether she said that for him or for herself.

It was evident that more than just a plate had been broken and it wouldn’t be as easy to be glued back together as the cheap china.

She was like a hazard, pushing clothes into the suitcase with so much force, that the zipper ripped open. Anakin watched as she cried and then brought yarn and needle and fixed the bag. It was a never-ending cycle of emotions and shattered glass. Sometimes things got messed up in her hurricane. What followed was a halfhearted attempt of redemption and a kiss on top of Anakin’s head. The fleeting touch of her lips that she gave him out of some obligation she felt. To be a better mother, to look like a better mum or to feel like a better mum. She loved him, he knew that, so let himself be hugged, kissed, or plastered with band aid to make her feel better – or just to avoid her sad smile.

After a couple of hours, she packed their bags into her car, stuffing it to the brim until nothing more fitted inside. It was not her car technically. It belonged to the man lived with them in the cookie cutter trac house and who had been the other partner in the screaming match last night. But this morning his mum did not care for his and her, splitting things up, just taking with her whatever she could get her hands on. It seemed like she did not care for a lot of things, wandering around the house like a whirlwind, leaving behind a trail of destruction. So, she loaded their things into the trunk, fastened Anakin’s seatbelt, drove out of the garage and sped down main road.

It was a Friday morning, they left Oasis Springs.

The early morning sun had bleed over the horizon and the first heat shimmer lingered over the asphalt. It was four hours until school would start and two until the town would slowly start waking up. Most of their neighbors had closed window shutters, not noticing them passing by, too caught up in their own world. Only the old Nicky, an ex-veteran, sitting in his white tank top and boxershorts in the front lane, barely raised his head when they drove past him. He muttered something like “God...”  

Oasis Spring wouldn’t miss them.

Anakin asked why they had left his bike in the house, he still wanted to learn riding it. His mum only smiled as answers. It was the sad one. The one he hated. So, he kept his mouth shut, not pressing any further.

He looked out of the window, recognizing remnants of his childhood pass by. The streets with the potholes, he had wished to speed down on his bike till the crossroad. The neighborhood, tract house lining up the next tract houses but not the nice variant Anakin saw in movies. No white picket fence, no mown front lane, no swings in apple trees. The difference to a trailer park was little. Then the concrete cuboid with the tiny sandy backyard, that was his elementary. The pathetic palm tree on Kinsey Alley, which he had fallen down and scarred his brow when he was four, doing some stupid bet with the neighbor’s boys. Mr. Miller’s house with the dog cage in the backyard. Anakin had sneaked to it one time, expecting cute pups. Instead, he found a Pitbull, barking at him aggressively.

Last night he had cursed Oasis Springs, his life, but even now driving past it, he was carrying it within him, in this car, in the air he breathed, in his mother’s heart. It was inescapable. There would be other Oasis Springs, different sandy streets, new kids mocking him, other barking pitbulls and more screaming matches behind closed doors.

Because his life was fucked up.

His mum’s eyes were focused on the road as she turned the steering wheel to the right, right like she was driving north, out of the town. She did not notice her son clenching his hands to fists – or if she did, she did not say anything.

After five minutes Oasis Springs was out of Anakin’s sight when peeked out of the window. Seven more hours and the godforsaken desert was gone, after two days the whole state of Arizona. Out of sight, not quite yet out of mind, he thought, running his fingers over his bruised knee.

=

After eight years of running, ending up in Oregon and with that in Tatooine was not the plan – at least not from the beginning. They just happened to stay there. At first glance, Anakin thinks Tatooine is just one of the many intermediate steps, they do on their trip. It always works like that, his mum chooses some town nearby, she gets a job there, they move out of their motel room into some kind of semi-permanent living condition with the new money and then she gets him to attend the education there. Once the bills start to pile up and the dept collectors chase them, she packs their things, drives north as she always does, and then they start somewhere else from scratch again.

But somehow, they manage to stay in Tatooine. The bills still come in, and the dept collectors still knock at their door but nothing drastic happens that would force them to run away like always. No screaming neighbor, no bad ex-boyfriend, and definitely no dead man in the pool. 

After three months of working, his mum finds them a tiny apartment a five-minute walk down the main road, she takes over the night shift at the local Wendy’s and enrolls him in Tatooine junior high. He is 14 and a half, too old for junior high but that is their only option. His CV is a patchwork of gaps and bad grades, so he repeats a year. It’s only for his best, the teachers say and his mum believes that. 

She tries her best, she really tries, he knows that when he sees her putting her strands into the hair net, flipping burgers in some greasy diner till late at night, and then cleaning the floor on her knees for the extra bucks.

He knows it when she comes home at night, still trying to be cheerful after a long day of work, and when she tries to buy him things to make him fit in better. 

These things are clothes from Goodwill, band T-Shirts from the late 70s when she was young. Music, that nobody listens to anymore. They are not his style – they are black, at least - but she loves it when he wears them, make her feel like a good mum. So, he does it. No matter, that they do the opposite of what his mum thinks they do. 

She never wants him to get a job, even though he has got pretty good at tinkering with vehicles, she wants him to focus on school instead. As if he would care for that, he curses silently, it is only purgatory. The moment he walks in, the teachers have already formed their opinions about him, just punishing him ends and ends for simply existing. 

In Tatooine, he finds Mace, a grumpy old man, who owns a workshop on Jefferson Alley, a seedy neighborhood but good enough for him. Anakin is 15 now, all the height he missed when he was a kid, has rushed to him in his teens. So, now he towers over all his peers and most of the adults, tall and lanky, all bones and sinews. He looks older than he is and he uses that to his advantage – at least, he thinks he can outsmart Mace. 

Mace knows Anakin’s real age but he decides not to comment on it. He lets the boy tinker in his workshop – that is more a garage than an actual shop – lets him spray paint the cars, wash off the dirt, and if Anakin is patient, lets him help fix the vehicles. He pays the boy a minimum wage in the garage but what can Anakin do? He is lucky enough that Mace even lets him work there. 

Sometimes Anakin ditches school just to take over one shift, midday especially, feeling better with his hands dirty under some engine cover than in the hallways or the physics classroom. His engineering talent is only wasted there. He loves the smell of the motor oil, the grease of the machines, and the scent of the solvents in the paint, better than anything the school can offer. 

But most importantly, Mace lets him be himself – or the version Anakin has become. Mace gifts him the first mechanical parts for the build of a motorbike, which he has no use for anymore. He does not comment on Anakin’s black-painted nails and once the boy asks him, he just shrugs with his shoulders and shaves off the boy’s curls with a razor blade. It is nearly buzzcut, in the back there are still some longer locks, that Anakin ties together to a tiny ponytail, a short mullet. 

The haircut makes Anakin feel relieved like he finally shed off his past, he is no longer girly with his now-cut-off curls. No one can grab him by the hair, roll over asphalt or steal his shoes.  

He is not Tinykin anymore. 

The kids in school fear him with his shaved mullet. The scarred brow from the fall when he was four, the black nail polish, the oldies Rock’ n’ Roll’ T-Shirt, and the biro doodles on his arm, which he draws because he has no tattoos yet, looking realistic though. They all perfect the image people want to see in him. 

For the first time, Anakin feels powerful. His looks, his attire, and his public image have become his armor, shielding him from any sort of harassment. Tinykin is gone. The kids whisper when they see him in the hallways with held-up hands but stop when they feel his glare on them. Fear is control, he realizes, brushing through his short hair with one hand, one leg crossed over the other, the used combat boots shimmering polished, red shoelace marking him as a leftist. 

So, he lets them stare at him, he lets them call him a Satanist and he lets the teacher think of him as a delinquent, never granting him the hallway pass. As a provocation he smokes on the school grounds, shares a pack with the older students, smudges coal liner under his eyes, and picks up any fight he can, snarling with bared teeth like an animal. 

There is surprisingly much power in his lanky limbs, he thinks one night, hunched over the sink, observing his bruised rips in the mirror. He hisses once he touches them, his skin is adorned by black and blue marks, some already fading while others blossom on top of them. Battle marks. Soldiers are proud to carry them, so he should feel the same. 

Tinykin can bite now, he has gone through a metamorphosis, and he is like Chuck now. A Pitbull. No longer girly. 

And it makes him feel good, the adrenaline rushing through his veins when he sees red. Him pushing his body further than he ever thought was possible, the limps aching out of exhaustion, the sinews impossibly stretched but still going further. And he likes the dominance, the sentiment, when the others crouch beneath him, feeling sorry about whatever comment they made about Anakin or his mum. Anakin makes them beg – or wishes to make them beg, wishes to spit on them.

The thought is aggressive and venomous. Suddenly he is afraid of it, afraid of going too far, afraid of the Pitbull inside. Still, he is dependent on it, addicted to the taste of blood on his tongue. So, he just continues. Fist fighting, bleeding, caring for the wound, and fighting again. 

One day he will end up in the hospital but he still does not care. 

One fistfight later, it is enough, states the school when they call him into the administration office. He just shrugs it off, his lips bleeding, from one punch, adrenaline still rushing through his veins. The other one looks worse, is his only thought as he stares down at his split knuckles. 

It has consequences. Everything has consequences. Life does never grant him anything. 

The principal’s office calls his mum and tells her about his disruptive behavior in class, how his grades have fallen since last December in every subject, that he has vandalized the school toilet with Anarchic political propaganda, dresses inappropriately, and is missing in every second-class unit. She apologizes over the phone, begs him to not throw him out yet, and gives him another chance, offering a donation with money they do not have. 

So, they let him stay and punish him with detention. For two weeks he scrubs gum from school desks, cleans the dirty tiles in the toilets, or sweeps the schoolyard. His mum takes over another shift at Wendy’s to pay off the money and smiles at him sadly. There is disappointment in her eyes. He feels embarrassed, pinches his bruised lips, avoids looking at her, and still starts to cry, feeling suddenly like his real age, a fifteen-year-old teenager, and hugs her like a little kid. She only hushes, strokes through his now short hair, and plasters one of her infamous band-aids over the cut on his lips. 

Her words are that people like them just have it harder in life, so they must keep fighting. 

People like them? People who just take their legs and just run away all life?

He hates that expression, hates that he was born like that, that he never had a fair chance, and feels a sting of hatred for his mum. Why did she even get him in this messed up world if she knew his life would be a fuck? She had done that to him, chained him to this, made him endure it. 

And if she talks about fighting back, why does she always submit to others and crawls on her knees over the dirty tiles in some diner just for a few bucks more while other people spit at her?  

Why did she back off just because the principal called her? Why did she not have his back like a real mum would? Why did she not defend him? 

But his mum only wraps her arms around him, holding him tightly, smiling at him. It is the sad smile, the one that always shuts him up. She walks through the tiny living room area, grabs two plates from the kitchen cabinet, and puts the takeaway on the dishes. It is left over from Wendy’s she got to take home after her shift. “Come on”; she says as if she had not just bribed the principal, “Turn on the telly, there is a Bud Spencer film on Channel 3.” 

For a second he stares at her. He has just cried a minute ago but he turns to the TV, a cheap model he got from eBay for free, and turns on the screen. It awakes with a screech, that makes him wonder how long the model will last. She takes the seat next to him on the couch. “Everything will be alright.”

He cringes and feels the sudden urge to curl up into a ball or disappear. He truly feels like 15 now. Nothing is fine and she knows that. But she searches for his warmth and cuddles him. He feels uncomfortable with the contact, incredibly stiff, but he lets her do it just so that the fucking sad smile disappears.  

That night his mom falls asleep in front of the Television while watching Anakin’s favorite Western. In the dimmed lights of the electrics, he recognizes the exhaustion, that marks her face, new wrinkles have formed next to her eyes. He carries her to bed, sitting next to her for an awkward minute. He fidgets with his fingers, feeling embarrassed of his teenage anger outburst from before but not knowing how to put it into words, so silence stretches out in the room. 

“I’m sorry.”, he tries to whisper, barely audible. “I’m sorry for calling you a bad mum.” He nearly swallows the words, that is how uncomfortable he feels speaking them. 

He waits for her to react but she is already asleep.  

Maybe she is a fighter, he thinks as he rests her head on a pillow, a warrior just in a different way than him. She is not young like him and has not the power in her limbs to just start a fight with everyone who behaves nasty. 

Another wave of embarrassment hits him, so he escapes the room, flinging a window open, gasping for breath, just out of that room. 

So, he sits on his windowsill, biting his bruised lips ashamed, the pain clearing his head. With his nails, he breaks off the Black polish, a nervous habit. His mind conjures images of his six-year-old self. The same heated anger wrenches his heart, he hears the phantom scream of his mum inside, cries ugly with a runny nose, cursing the world silently for his fucked-up life. 

He does not want to wake her up that night. Does not let her see that she made him tear up. 

=

Half a year after his 15th birthday, he has collected enough parts to build an entire motorbike from scratch. Mace helps him and tells him the do-s and don’ts of the process while handing him the screwdrivers. Once it is finished, he pads the teenage boys on his shoulders. There is even a spark of pride in his eyes.

Mace has grown into some sort of fatherly figure over the last year for him. The man has a stoic face, never emotionally caring for others, never hugging Anakin, never asking how he feels – but he helps Anakin, never asks questions when the boy is on his mat at 2 am or if he has school tomorrow, just silently guiding the boy into the garage and to his newest project.

Mace never raises the wage, still paying the boy only a few bucks an hour but he buys him lunch when Anakin takes over the midday shifts – that is the deal, midday shift for a Chicken Sandwich, or he gifts the boy mechanical parts for Anakin’s projects and lets him build them in his garage once he is finished with his tasks. 

One of them is the motorbike. At 15 and a half Anakin’s bike is finally ready, half a year too young to be legally driving it, but who cares for a license in Tatooine? He grabs a can of spray paint and colors it in black to match him but something is missing. Mace nudges him slightly, handing him another spray can. It is red. He adds another single line, creating the illusion of fire when it is speeding down the streets. A flaming motorcycle, could be a reference to a Comic book, Ghost Rider, or something, Anakin grins to himself as he puts on the helmet to drive it for a test run. 

It is Mace’s Helmet, the same for the Jackett, that Anakin has thrown over his shoulders, some bike gang insignia stitched on the back, two knives crossing. The older man has said that he had no use for it anymore and now that Anakin has a bike, it would be better off with him than lying around in the dust of his closet. Anakin had started to tear up but Mace had just hushed, grabbing the boy for a brief hug, in which both felt uncomfortable and later just stared at the ground embarrassed. 

It was too early for such an intimate act. 

When his mum recognizes him pulling up in front of their apartment building, she is anxious. She runs down the stair, meeting him, about to scold him but then she sees the joy in his face. 

So, she asks if he is now finally able to live his dream and ride a bike. He nods and he speeds down Jefferson Alley, his mother clinging to him in the backseat, screaming against the wind.

For the first time in fifteen years, Anakin feels truly happy, adrenaline rushing through his veins. Maybe his life isn’t as fucked up as he thinks. 

=

He is sixteen when his curls have grown back so that they reach his jaw now. He lets them hang loose, never caring for them with any styling product like his peers do. They frame his angular countenance, the small chin, the sharp bone structure, that has grown more prominent in the last year. His face still has big eyes and plush, reddish lips but they are contrasted by his sharp jawline now. He looks different, harder, matured, marked by life just like his scared body, he thinks when he sees himself in the mirror. A fighter. A troublemaker. 

The brio doodles on his arms have become real tattoos, once he has hit sixteen. Now a barbed wire twines around his triceps, fading down into billows of smoke, a cityscape blooming on his lower arm. His chest is covered by a St. Andrews cross. Rex looked at him strangely when Anakin requested to let a catholic motive cover his chest and lower abdomen. He raised his brows the stencil hovering in the air. Are you Sure, his eyes said. Anakin has only nodded., 

He is not religious but it’s a sign of protection. Why should he not feel a need for protection? 

He still spends most of his time at Mace’s workshop but somehow school has become more prominent too. The cause is the invention of the Tatooine High Physics Club – not that he is particularly interested in Physics, quanta, or atoms, they just give him the perfect opportunity to tinker. Last month he built his first robot and the other had helped him with the programming. IT has never been his strong suit. To a certain degree he was interested in the construction of electronic devices but the world inside, the software has never been his aim. Partly fault for that was that he has never had a computer at home and has ditched most of the classes where it was used – but suddenly it became of interest to him. 

It is a better future, his mum tells him one dinner, IT is better than whatever he does at Mace’s garage. He could study computer science someday. He looks at her, suddenly feeling nausea, the leftover from yesterday rumbling in his stomach. He digs his nails into his palms, biting his tongue, holding any backlash back. 

They have started to have a lot of conversations like that since he started Highschool. 

Just look at him, he thinks, the tattoos, the black painted nails, the music taste, the red shoelace in his combat boots, the biker jacket over his shoulders, he is not the guy for Uni. It would be the same as in school. Everywhere he goes prejudice marks his way. He would have to fight harder than anyone else, suddenly get a good GPA, and find a scholarship. As if he could ever afford to go to college on his own. 

He would just end in a purgatory of endless debts, that he never in his life could pay back. 

He will just end like his mum. After the school graduation, he will work at Mace’s workshop full-time but that will never be enough money to support them both, so he will take over any job he finds, flipping burgers in some kind of fast-food chain and cleaning the floor for the extra few bucks. 

He swallows. It is like he was born to become like that. It was his destiny from the start and after all these years of ditching school, fighting, and doing the absolute worst he has only dug his grave further. Life was never fair to him. The fucking world is unfair. He was destined to become like that and everybody has pushed him further on that path. 

Anakin feels sad and then angry. All the sadness that does wrench his heart, he pushes it into his anger. Wrath is an easier emotion to deal with than tears and all the fuck. When he feels angry, he can get drunk and pick up the next fight till his knuckles split open and blood runs down his cheeks. Life does make Anakin kneel to it but in a fight, he can make others kneel to him. Be the one in the prominent position for one fucking second in his life. 

When adrenaline is running through his veins, the only thing that counts is who is the better fighter and not who was born in the better situation. 

Or he could fuck, get wasted and pick up someone, lets himself be dragged into a cheap motel, and then shag like an animal. It’s carnal intercourse, not lovemaking – who has time for that and who is the idiot and believes in love – then he is like a predator, just doing whatever his body needs to let go of this anger. The next morning, he forgets whoever his partner was, not that it does ever matter to him. He just leaves the motel room early the next morning.

He has become an arsehole, he realizes, and his mum would be disappointed. 

So, sitting there at the dinner table, all his behavior of the last years, all the time he has acted out of anger or thought he has fought the unfair system, start piling up on his shoulder, revealing themselves to be only burdened. 

Others have never liked him, so he became unlikeable instead of trying, bared his teeth, and hissed like an animal. 

Others have seen the delinquent in him, so he has become the delinquent, smoking on school grounds, fighting, and ditching class. 

He runs to the bathroom and only vomits, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands gripping the sink. His mum does ask him what happened later, there is a spark of worry in her eyes, but he refuses to answer, once again putting up the face of the insolent child, the troublemaker. 

“I’m sorry.,” something deep inside whispers. 

=

Anakin has his first time with a man the day his mum gets the cancer diagnosis. It is a rainy day in August, and the cloud ceiling lowering over the town of Tatooine, suffocating him from above. How ironic, a fucking symbol for his emotions. He chokes, he swallows, he lights himself a smoke, grimacing bitterly. 

The hospital calls him at work, midday shift like usual. Mace tells him to pick up the phone, he suspects nothing, speeds down to the telephone, and answers. For the next fifteen minutes, he listens to the doctor in a trance, answers yes when it is needed, yes to if he would pick up his mum – she is still affected by the anesthetics from the screening, yes if she should start chemo and yes if he would cover the costs.

It takes him another fifteen minutes to realize what it does mean for them as a family, what he has agreed to. Stage four breast cancer, chemo, no health insurance. They do not have the money for treatment, in no world will they ever have. The doctors tell his mum, she knows it, he knows that she knows. He picks her up, she tries to say it, he ignores her, and the rest of the ride home is silent. 

He carries her up the stairs, sets her down on the couch in the living room area, pulls her favorite blanket over her, and rests her head on a pillow. She tries to protest, tell that she is no porcelain doll but her voice is hoarse, her arms are shaky and midway she realizes that herself, so she stays silent, ashamed. He makes her a cup of chamomile tea, the cheap one from the supermarket around. They talk, they talk about everything, how lovely he was as a child – he only remembers himself crying, how she always dreamed about opening a real restaurant – he only knows the taste of leftovers from Wendy’s, and what his dreams for the future are – he lies to her about studying, she knows but she still smiles, clinging to the nice words because what else has she left?  

They talk about everything and nothing. 

In the end, he is exhausted, excusing himself, lying about having a shift at Mace’s workshop, willing down the sobs that want to escape his mouth, brushing his hair into his face to hide the specks. 

He wants to escape the apartment where he only finds disappointment in his mother’s eyes, where they only lie to each other, and where the air tastes of death, that suffocates him with every breath. 

 He feels bad for going, leaving her alone, leaving the death-forsaken woman but he still does it., crying with a runny nose, feeling selfish, and at the same time desperate for a hug. 

That day he finds himself in the same bar, he always goes when something bad happens to drown himself in liquor. The barman Yoda already knows him and his favorites. The first few shots are on the house and then an “anonymous” person starts paying for them. Anakin does not care enough to actually ask who it is, he just drowns them in one go and grimaces at the burning feeling in his throat. 

The world starts turning around him and it is a pleasant feeling, nothing is clear, and everything is hazy. He roars like an animal, falls from his barstool, and fails to stand up again when a stranger helps him up. He has a nice face and friendly hazel eyes – at least Anakin thinks he has. He offers the teenager a hand and tells him he would drive him home; the smile is open and honest – too nice for a seedy town like Tatooine. 

Anakin tries to protest but the stranger has already manhandled him out of the bar. He is placed in a car, diagonally laid over the backseat. He feels like he wants to vomit but the stranger is nice, helps him up, holds up his hair, and helps him unbutton his shirt. It is hot in the car, and the stranger smiles. 

The moment, Anakin lays bare on the cheap plastic leather of the Ford, he realizes what is happening. The stranger has started to fidget with Anakin’s jeans, fumbling at the zipper. There is still a genuine smile on his face, telling Anakin that everything will be ok, abusing Anakin’s drunkenness. His jeans are pushed down to his knees, exposing his boxer shorts and his bare tighs. Anakin is suddenly shy, trying to cover his naked skin but the stranger pushes his hands away, pining them over his head with force. 

Anakin’s mind is still gone, still sitting in his apartment with his mum, conversing stifling Smalltalk, crying for his mum and missing her so much but his body does react for him instead. He feels a warmth forming in his core, a tinge of drunk arousal, mixed with disgust for himself. It is strange and his drunk body tries to convince him that it is hot. 

Then he is flipped over, his chest hits the backseat and he moans at the sudden friction. His jeans are pushed down even further, his boxershorts following. Nervous fingers explore his backside, the touch is fleeting, unsure, embarrassed. The fuck itself happens in haste, it is quick and dirty, the other man fucks him bare, nervously, fingers grabbing Anakin so tight that it bruises for a second and then disappearing, never quite there, as if he wants to leave no trace. The stranger gives Anakin the feeling that he is a plastic toy, something to be used and then thrown away. 

For a second Anakin does not care, likes the sound of bodies slapping against each other, the feeling that he has some use. It does his job and makes him forget about his fucked up life for a second. 

Once the stranger is finished, he cleans himself with a wipe, pulling up his trousers as if nothing happened, and leaves Anakin dripping on the backseat. So, there he lays, another man’s body fluids running down his thighs, still in a drunken haze, with a mum with stage four cancer, he grimaces bitterly. 

He does not feel angry, he does not cry. He just feels empty. The St. Andrews Cross burns on his chest. 

The embarrassment takes another day to enter his system. Then the wrath follows, wrath is easier to deal with than embarrassment, than feeling dirty, than the need he has to shower to wash off the other man’s scent from his body. So, he lets the anger roar in his chest. 

=

He meets Obi-Wan Kenobi for the first time at a house party – meeting for the first time is not the right expression. He knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before, he recognized him in the hallway when he saw the copper strands and the horn-rimmed glasses. Kenobi is the president of the Physics Club Anakin sometimes attended, Kenobi is the golden boy of the student newspaper, he was the guy on the bleacher that Anakin saw when he finished PE class and Obi-Wan has collected his dad's car a few times at Mace’s garage. 

So, technically he knew Obi-Wan Kenobi before but this evening he gets to know him for real. Whatever that means. 

Rex, Anakin’s tattoo artist, and semi-best friend, drags him there. Rex is two years Anakin’s senior, has a bleached buzz cut, arms covered with black and blue Ink, and a smirk, that Anakin can hardly say no to. Last summer Mace hired him and the two have instantly linked. Rex is not the best mechanic but he needs the money, so they made a deal. Anakin taught him the fundamentals and for that, he got a discount on the tattoos he wanted to get. 

His mum has stopped working four months ago, half a year after her cancer diagnosis. Too late in Anakin’s opinion, too early in hers. They have started to fight more often. She thinks that he is too overprotective over her, he thinks she is only working herself to death. She scolds him for his life choices, he screams at her how she thinks he is paying for her chemo. It only escalates and, in the end, both cry and he is feeling once again like the true teenager that he is, clinging to her like a little child. 

So, Anakin lets himself be manhandled by Rex to the party in Quinlan Vos’ house. It is near the Jefferson Alley, a quick walk by foot from Mace’s workshop, far enough from his apartment, and far enough from his mum. 

Since his mum’s cancer diagnosis, he has dropped out of school, working full-time at Mace’s garage, the count of his tattoos has doubled, now covering more than just naked skin. There is now a bike and a sandy backyard on his left thigh. Fucking Oasis Springs, he thinks, he could not escape his past, so why not embrace it? 

He has thought about a tattoo of his mum’s name but then he discarded the idea, as too cheesy. She would hate it, tell him that is like looking at her own gravestone and she is still very much alive. 

He has just grabbed his third beer – his drinking habits have become worse too – when he notices Obi-Wan. The other man, also two years Anakin’s senior – in the same year as Rex, wears a white polo shirt, stuffed into his cord jeans and cute horn-rimmed glasses. He looks like he does not belong to this party, totally out of place with his outfit and the nervous laughter that speaks of insecurity. Anakin nudges Rex’s shoulder but the other man just shrugs in a manner of Why would I care, so Anakin steps closer to Obi-Wan. 

The other man has something about him, that makes Anakin want to look closer at why he is so nervous. Anakin has no savior complex but something like the abuse, that happened to Anakin in the parking area of Yoda’s bar should not happen again – or at least, if Anakin can do something against it, so he steps closer to overhear the conversation. 

They talk about “Seven Minutes in Heaven” and Obi-Wan seems nervous, and uncomfortable with taking part but Quinlan Vos - Anakin cursed a silent “arsehole” – seems to be reluctant to listen to his friend. He has put one arm around his shoulder, nudging him closer, trying to encourage him. It makes Anakin cringe, it is uncomfortable to watch, makes his inner Pitbull bark aggressively, and makes him want to split his knuckles open on Vos’s skull. 

Since his mum’s diagnosis, his anger issues have become worse, too. He fights, smokes, and fucks more than ever. – much to his mum’s disappointment but it is the only thing keeping him together, keeping him working at Windu’s, and with that the only thing paying for the chemo. 

So, Anakin joins in last minute, kneeling himself to the circle, taking another sip from the beer. Some raised brows but nobody refuses him to take part. He is Anakin Skywalker, a heavy drinker, a delinquent, known for his bed stories – why not have him in a round? 

The bottle gets spun a couple of times but nothing happens to him or Obi-Wan. People get taken to the closet; they snog there until the next couple takes their place. Anakin is bored, he stares at Rex who has already found himself another activity, he yawns bored. Maybe he should have stayed at home. 

That changes when the bottle stops in front of Obi-Wan, who lets out a nervous laugh. “I guess it’s my turn now.”, he says with a voice that sounds surprisingly tiny for a teenager. He brushes with one hand through his copper strands and rearranges his Polo Shirt, the glasses nearly fall from his nose because of his hasty movement, his cheeks are blushed and his body posture speaks of insecurity. “Who wants to do it with me?”

The question is asked with a tone that breaks Anakin’s heart. It reminds him of himself, him before most of the bullshit had taken place, before his job at Windu’s, before his first tattoo, before his first fist fight, before his mum’s diagnosis, before he has become who is now before he was broken. It is like looking into a mirror and seeing the young boy in Oasis Springs with a runny nose who just wanted to learn to ride a bike to make friends. Tinykin, he wants to sigh. 

Anakin feels stupid to raise his hand that quickly but what else can he do? The Pitbull in his chest roars with the need to protect, bite away Quinlan’s greasy hand from Obi-Wan’s shoulder, protect Obi-Wan at all cost, shower him with compliments till all insecurities go away – but Anakin is not a man of nice words, life has hardened him, so all he can do is stand up and play the part of the heartbreaker who has taken a liking in the shy boy. 

Nobody makes a comment, they do not care enough – or they care enough to spread a rumor the next day, whatever. So, the two get taken to the closet and Obi-Wan laughs more nervously as if his insecurity would disappear if he does it more often. It is a painful sound in Anakin’s ears, making his heart wrench. He wants to grab Obi-Wan’s hand, squeeze it, tell him that everything will be alright – but it would only scare Obi-Wan way, too soon. 

The closet is so small that both must stand with only a few centimeters between them, a contact that is forced to be intimate and uncomfortable. Obi-Wan shivers, trying to distance himself, laughing one more time when he realizes that Anakin notices it, it is like saying “Nothing against you, but could you please stop invading my personal space?” 

Anakin clears his throat and steps the tiny step back, that he can take in the small closet. His back hits a shelf with canned food. 

“So, we have to kiss now, don’t we?”. Kiss is pronounced breathy, a word with insecurity laced to it. Obi-Wan has never kissed anybody, it is clear as daylight, and he is nervous to do it now. He does not want to do it, he just feels like he needs to do it. 

“We don’t have to do anything”, Anakin answers and takes another sip from his beer. It is room temperature now, tasting disgusting on his tongue but still better than nothing, a bit of liquid courage for the next words. “Just because some bastards tell us to do something, we don’t have to do it.” 

“You are Anakin, right?”, Obi-Wan asks unsure, trying to change the subject. “I saw you a couple of times in Mace Windu’s shop, you work there, don’t you?” 

Anakin only nods, adding another “Still do.” after the silence stretches out uncomfortably. 

“I have not seen you in school for a really long time. You used to attend Physics Club; I noticed you there a few times but then you just stopped coming. CP30 still needs the new gadget for his eyes, the boys have been too shy to add it without you.” Obi-Wan’s chuckle is still nervous. “Why did you stop? – I mean coming, why did you stop coming?”

“Bad things happened.”, Anakin answers taciturnly, taking the last sip from his bottle, already regretting it. The closet is so tiny that he feels the warmth the other man radiates, a bead of sweat runs down his cheek, and he wipes it away, trying to grin reassuringly. Everything is alright. He brushes a lock behind his ear, suddenly feeling itchy, and uneasy on his feet like he needs to do something. He starts drumming on his empty bottle, avoiding eye contact. 

It was a stupid idea to cage himself with Obi-Wan in a closet that barely measure two square meters. 

“You still can come, CP30 is waiting, nobody will touch him if you don’t want that.” 

“I-“, tries Anakin but Obi-Wan’s nervous talking interrupts him, the other man fidgets with his fingers. “We have classes as always and the Physics classroom is open as usual, Thursday afternoon and Fridays till 3 pm.” 

“Yeah”, grumbles Anakin, staring at everything other than Obi-Wan, trying to get his inner Pitbull under control that roars to surge forward and kiss him til all the nervous words stop flooding from his mouth. The other man’s cheeks are still blushed from the heat and some of his copper strands are damp, slightly curled, making them look impossibly fluffy, that Anakin gets the itch to brush through them.

It is an itch he should not scratch. 

“I’m sorry, I’m making you uncomfortable.” 

“No-“

“I just thought after you volunteered that you might be slightly interested.” 

The shy man makes Anakin cringe. Obi-Wan looks so unsure of himself, pushing and pulling at his Polo shirt, cheeks heated because of his words. Obi-Wan has never kissed anyone before, roars his inner Pitbull, why don’t you take his first kiss? You are a good kisser, you could make him enjoy it. 

Anakin plunges forward, cupping the other man’s face with a swift movement, surprised by his actions. He turns his head away, staring at his shoes instead, the combat boots are old and used, has bought new ones since his mum’s diagnosis, saving any money he has. His voice is hoarse and slow when he continues, “Ehm -I am interested.” 

Then he leans in, brushing his lips slightly against Obi-Wan’s forehead, getting addicted to the taste of the honey-kissed skin with the slight hint of male sweat, the urge blooming to taste it with his tongue and then he wills it down, jerking back like he has burnt himself, nearly falling over himself, embarrassed by his own animal-like thought just to take. 

In that second the closet is opened and a weirdly grinning Quinlan Vos eyes them, scanning for a sign of snogging. He eyes Obi-Wan’s damp curls, his heated cheeks, and the Polo shirt. 

“Happy Seven Minutes in Heaven, Obi.” 

“Ehm-“

Anakin feels like he wants to vomit. 

= 

Anakin is 17 when Obi-Wan graduates. He watches from afar, sitting on the bleachers Obi-Wan used to sit on, smoking a pack – he has even called Mace for a free day, knowing that this will only end in Yoda’s or some stranger’s backseat, all just to stop the throbbing sound of his breaking heart. 

It’s like watching everything, that could have been, and at the same time never will be. He could be standing there, getting his A-Levels done, posing with his friends in these stupid robes, hugging his mum, and hearing her whisper into his hair how proud she is. 

But it will never be. He will never finish school and instead works full-time to pay the bills. And what friends? The kids, that have harassed him in Oasis Springs or the kids who were afraid of him in Tatooine? Who would be standing here with him now, grimacing like an idiot for some graduation photos? 

You could have been a part of this now, the Pitbull whispers to him bitterly as Anakin lights himself another cigarette, you could be standing there now, planting a kiss on the shy boy’s lips if you just had been brave back then. You could be there now as just a friend and maybe even as his boyfriend. 

I am broken, sighs Anakin, I have a fucked-up life. Obi-Wan deserves better, Obi-Wan deserves the world, he should leave this shit hole that is Tatooine and finally find someone who cherishes him. 

So, he sits there and watches from afar as everybody becomes older, graduates, leaves the town, starts studying and he just stays Anakin, working in Mace’s garage, sitting the evening with his mum in front of the telly, watching some western, crying himself to sleep at night for everything that could have been. 

= 

Anakin is 19 when he meets Padme again. The night before he has drunken until he blacked out and she had been the first face to greet him in A&E. As strange as it sounds, they fall in love quickly – or she falls in love quickly. She is a doctor, she likes to heal, likes to take care of, likes to amend and he is her little project. She thinks she can fix him, takes him out, controls his drinking and smoking habit, stops him from fighting – she is good for him, his mum smiles. 

He reads that Obi-Wan has left Tatooine. He is for the first time in the Newspaper for some charity event in New York, that he attends with his newlywed wife. She looks pretty, tall, blond with a perfectly proportioned body and the wedding ring glimmers on her finger. Obi-Wan has not changed much, it has been years and yes there is a beard now covering his dimples, but there is the same insecurity, the same shyness in his posture, that makes Anakin's inner Pitbull beg him to take care of him. 

He is happy now, he tells himself and smiles bitterly, Obi-Wan has become what he has deserved, a perfect life. 

But Anakin cannot help to feel jealous of the other man, of all the possibilities the other has, no chain caging him in Tatooine, no mum with stage four cancer, no same old job, that he carries out every day since he is fifteen, no debts that he can never pay back, no emptiness in his heart, that he cannot fill. 

But isn’t Anakin happy now, too? He has Padme – at least he has someone, he should be happy now. 

And his mum loves Padme, they form a bond quite easily – she loves Padme probably more than he does and that hurts. Padme is perfect for his mum, the definition of a woman with a golden heart, for the first time his mum is truly proud of him. It hurts his heart to lie to her like that, to pretend to be the happy boyfriend in love but he does it. 

When their high school friends start asking them why they are not married yet, he decides to propose to her. He does everything the others do, he books a restaurant, hides the ring box in his best jacket, and then falls to his knees when it is the right moment. She smiles, cries out of joy, and showers him with kisses – he only feels uncomfortable, fidgeting with his fingers. Later on, he blames it on his nervousness. 

He is 20 when he stands at the altar waiting for the bride. He is 21 when the twins are born and he holds Luke and Leia for the first time in his arms. 

He tries to be happy, tries to be a good father, reads all the fucking books about parenting, makes himself a total idiot just to make the kids love, shows them his favorite westerns, lets them ride on his back, and sleeps next to them every single night for the first three nights of their life. 

And he tries to love Padme, God knows, he tries so much. He takes Padme out for date nights, tells her how beautiful she is every morning, and kisses her open-mouthed and hungry to make her feel loved and desired in the marriage just to make him feel less guilty that he thinks of another man every time in bed. Over the years, he learns to love her, as cruel as it sounds, he learns to pretend to love her, to say the right things to make her smile. 

And no matter how hard he tries; his life remains fucked up.  

= 

Anakin is 36, a divorced man, father of two teenage kids in puberty, with the first few grey hairs growing on his scalp when he wakes up early, yawning, rubbing his tired eyes, expecting to find the bed next to him empty and unused, just like he is used to it. 

But instead, this morning a warm body is curled to his, a chest and a soft belly pressing against his backside, arms intertwined with his face and grumbling something like “Don’t go. It’s too early.” 

A sweet, soft smile curves his lips as he leans down to kiss the other man’s cheeks and brushes his fingers through the copper strands. “Obi-Wan.”, whispers into the other man’s hair, tracing the jaw with his fingers, tracing the lines of his beard. 

For the first time in 36 years, he has a chance to be happy - however, his fucked up life may be. 

(this is a draft, that means it is still in the condition of a draft, not betaed... just wanted to rant about the idea, so enjoy!)

[alexagirlie]

Twenty Questions: Fic Author Addition Thank you to @thelettersfromnoone 1. How many works do you have on AO3? 80 XD 2. What's your total AO3 word count? 138,003 3. What fandoms do you write for? Primarily for The Last Kingdom, Dune and House of the Dragon but have some small drabbles in BBCs Merlin and Shadowhunters. 4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos? Close Your Eyes and Think of Caladan At the Touch of You Under the Hood I just can't resist the urge Coffee and Fried Eggs 5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Yes, whenever its a comment that makes sense to respond too anyways. 6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Oh shit uh.... prooobably Day 23: Back to Black? since I killed off my favourite character. I have a few with pretty angsty endings though. 7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Honestly most of my fics have a happy ending but maybe Day 3: Honeybee

8. Do you get hate on fics? No actually? Ive never received hate or negative comments anywhere. I keep waiting for it though as Ive written some dark stuff...

9. Do you write smut? If so what kind? Heck yes I do, ranging from loving, to hate sex, to unrequited love and even non-con. A range of kinks and level of detail.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Only 1 real crossover which is a Shadowhunters AU featuring the boys from The Last Kingdom. I have one part published FU in my head and more planned to get around to in the future.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I am aware of no

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? No

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before? I have not, but I wouldn't be opposed to it with the write partner. 14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Man this is a hard one as I have a lot that hold a special place in my heart. I would say either Sihtric/Finan from The Last Kingdom or Paul/Duncan from Dune. (honourable mentions, Obikin, Malec, Sterek, Jacemond, Jacegan, Kurbastian) 15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I have several which are just an idea on a list which I'm not sure I will ever actually start but as for stories Ive started writing and publish probably We Daren't Go a-Hunting for Fear of Little Men. I have a ton of stuff outlined and written for this, lots of lore and world building but I have no drive to work on it anymore. I hope to one day finish it as I love the world I created for this one.

16. What are your writing strengths? I get a lot of compliments on my characterizations, which I am really, really proud of as that was one of the reasons it took me so long to start writing fanfiction.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Being descriptive. I tend to do a lot of "telling" instead of "showing" when I write but is something that I'm working on and since I have less then 2 years under my belt I am trying to be forgiving to myself.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? Ive done it before and I don't mind it in small amounts. 19. First fandom you wrote for? Dune! The Dune 2021 movie opened the gates for me in a huge way. I joined my first discord server, started writing, got back into art in a serious/consistent way and I am just so happy.

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? This is another hard one as Ive loved quite a few of my works Dune: At the Touch of You The Last Kingdom: The Sharpest Lives House of the Dragon: Flesh of the Dragon

(no pressure tag) @imnotoverlyobsessive @nights-ofren @chompchompluke @whitedarkmoonflower @lavida-quenofue @simpfornegan @ulfrsmal

[dreaminghour]

Nixie tagged me in that 9 people tag game, so here you go 😂

thank you @nixie-deangel ❤️

1. 3 ships — right now my main brain rot is Qui-Gon/Anakin (QuiAni) but I'm also still obsessed with Qui-Gon/Obi-Wan (QuiObi) and Obi-Wan/Anakin (Obikin)... yes it's all Star Wars lol I've been into QuiAni and QuiObi for about a year (Sep '22) and it's been two years for Obikin (Sep '21)

2. first ever ship — omg... I don't know. it was probably something Harry Potter but I wasn't really into a ship over everything else per se probably until I got into Charles/Erik from X-Men First Class in 2011 :D I joined a fan exchange and posted my first fic on AO3 for that ship :3

3. last song — ラビリンス (Labyrinth) from Hikari Mitsushima and Mondo Grosso

4. last movie — had a nice movie night recently and rewatched Princess Mononoke

5. currently reading — I have a billion books beside my bed, last one I picked up was Witcher: The Last Wish

6. currently watching — Star Trek: The Next Generation now in the sixth season and I'm still occasionally sharing my silly thoughts

7. currently consuming — just finished my water and some chocolate raspberry ice cream

8. currently craving — hugs

9. tag 9 people you want to know better — @titaniumpsychologist @chibilostsoul @palfriendpatine66 @raeality @sarunohadaki @insertmeaningfulusername @piecesofeden11 @sugarpsalms @darbydoo22 @mikeygurl13

no pressure tho ✌️