#or swinging lightsabers at people

[keldae]

Baby's first pole-dancing class tonight! Wish me luck!

[paulmccartneyofficial]

zack snyder has become a nuisance

[rochenn]

The Jedi Order mainly being an institution about teaching makes me sad that we never see more "Jedi classes" outside of the popular ones like martial arts, healthcare and Force wackery.

Alongside basic language and science education etc there have to be at least some trade and college courses on offer, right? The Jedi need a bunch of their own people with law degrees. Proper pedagogy studies for future crèchemasters. Cooks. Managers. All types of engineers. Electricians. Accountants. Researchers. How many Jedi hold a doctorate or professorate? Because I think a large number of them do. Their databanks are filled with millennia of dissertations. You can still find Yoda's articles from 500 years ago and cite them in your history research paper.

The Order just having its own micro-economy going on and every member getting their own regular job education next to all the lightsaber swinging adventures... pls

[david-talks-sw]

Could you please disprove the whole "jedi and their egos which lead to their down fall blah blah blah" Cus the jedi have never been egotistical to me 😭

Hey there!

So I kinda touched on this subject before, so for more details and quotes, I'll just redirect you to those posts.

Firstly... yes, to a degree, the Jedi were arrogant. They got complacent in a time of peace and were thus completely unprepared to face the Sith, who spent a millenia preparing themselves in secret.

But firstly, when people say "even Yoda says they were arrogant" they completely misunderstand what he was saying (he wasn't lamenting the downfall of the Jedi as an Order, he was subtextually telling Obi-Wan that he can be arrogant too and should cut Anakin some slack).

And secondly... there's arrogance and there's arrogance.

There's "not being ready because you didn't know a threat was looming",

and there's "being a cocky asshole who's swinging his lightsaber in a helicopter motion and saying "come get me shit lords, I've got your dark side riiiight here!""

The Jedi were the former.

To use a metaphor: they're not asleep at the wheel, they're just driving through an unexpected fog.

In fact, after Qui-Gon died, the Jedi did keep an eye out for the Sith Lord, but the Dark Side had clouded everything, by then and to use another metaphor: it's impossible to find a specific black object in a dark room at night.

So when you bear all this in mind, describing the Jedi as "egotistical" and "holier than thou" is actually an uncharitable way to define a group of characters doing their best to catch up and save the galaxy from doom.

Why is that the predominant interpretation? My guess:

Because "good guy" characters now get labeled as "goody-two-shoes" in favor of non-conformist anti-hero archetypes. In fact, due to our history, we're now used to being weirded out and suspicious of characters that label themselves as "genuinely nice".

Because the protagonist of the Prequels is a guy who's flawed, and by comparison to him, less developed characters who have already undergone their character arc (and thus conquered their flaws) won't feel as relatable to an audience as the more imperfect character.

They weren't egotistical. They were simply written in a way that a big chunk of the audience found unlikeable, and to cope they came up with a headcanon that the narrative meant to frame them as egotistical... when really, it wasn't even about the Jedi.

Hope this clarifies some stuff!

[mayhaps-a-blog]

OK so the thing is

The path to the Dark Side isn't just kriffing up. You don't just go "whoops!" one day and start murdering people for fun. You make decisions. You make choices. And when those choices go bad... instead of standing up and admitting your mistakes, you double down.

Sol's Fall perfectly hits the beats that I think many people lose track of with Anakin - his first Fall wasn't with Palpatine in Revenge of the Sith, but with the Tuskens in Attack of the Clones. Anakin goes from sobbing in Padme's arms that he killed the women, and the children too - he killed them all - to screaming that they were monsters and they deserved it. Instead of facing his mistakes - the lives that he took in anger, in rage - he insisted that you know what, he was right to do that. He did the right thing. He's glad he did it. And he'll do it again.

Sol kriffed up. He was too emotional on Brendok - Indara called him out on it, and she was right. The witches DID love their children, he DID get the wrong end of the stick, and however weird they were and worrisome the bits they saw with the kids were, the answer to that is to find out more information or, I don't know, wait one kriffing day, not charge in, lightsabers drawn.

(I don't blame Torbin, really. He was also totally out of balance, but he was the Padawan learner - the student who needed guidance, not the Master supposed to deliver it. Mother Aniseya had gotten into his head and thrown him for a loop, and Indara needed to sit on him a bit more - but if she'd been on a speeder instead of Sol, I think things would have worked out very differently.)

Instead it was Sol, who dragged Torbin into a dangerous situation without thinking of the consequences - without even considering that he might be wrong.

Honestly, I'm not even sure I blame him for swinging at Mother Aniseya. Mae had said some pretty worrisome things and was literally dissolving into midair. I blame Sol for being there in the first place, where he had no place, and for putting everyone on edge so far that Mother Aniseya felt the need to move to protect her children, and he felt the need to retaliate unthinkingly.

And then. And then.

Hard to say if Indara did the right thing. She was thinking about Osha, and I don't think she was necessarily wrong. She gave Osha a chance to have the life she dreamed of, a chance she would never have had otherwise.

But Sol.

Sol should never have taken Osha as his Padawan. He was too close; the hurt was too painful to hide. He couldn't tell Osha the truth, so he buried it, papered it over with justifications and excuses - he'd done it for Osha. For the girls. To keep them safe. It was the right thing to do. It was the only thing to do. He did it for Osha. And that gave him the means to look Osha in the eyes and smile, and pretend everything was fine.

But of course, he couldn't let her go, either. He'd done it all for her - he couldn't fail her now. Couldn't admit that he'd failed her. He had to make this right - (but it was right already it was it was) - but the closer he bound them together, the harder it was to let go of his attachment to her. After all, if he told her now... what if she hated him?

Sol loved Osha too much from the very beginning. He couldn't let go of his attachment to her: to his idea that he could save her, could train her, to be the master he wanted to be for her. He couldn't face his own failures, so he refused to see them; insisted that they were correct, right, justified, to the last. And in the end, that's what poisoned Osha - and himself.

He was afraid. Afraid for her; afraid for himself. And his fear led to anger - at the Master, at himself. And his fear led to anger - Osha's, at him, for papering over his fears with lies, lies to her. And anger led to hatred. And hatred? Led to suffering.

No one walked away from Brendok without suffering. Not Osha; not Mae. Maybe Qimir; maybe not. But definitely not Sol.

Sol had to make a choice. And he made one. But he didn't just make one choice; he made many choices, over and over again. And no matter what excuses he gave, what justifications, he could never bring himself to admit that maybe, just maybe, he'd made the wrong choices.

Sol's lightsaber may not have been red. But I think, if he'd finished that swing on Khofar? It might not have been all that far from it.

[generalkenobee]

Hello lovely! Two things: 1. GOOD LUCK SHIFTING I KNOW YOU CAN DO IT. 2. Might I send in a little request? If so; Obi-Wan and Reader are both Jedi masters on the council. They just so happen to be trying to meditate together when they begin reading each other's thoughts on accident... smut ensues?

Whether you do this request or not, just know I appreciate you and everything you create -🦇 anon

Your thoughts are extremely loud

Omgggg-

I have the biggest thing for mind reading-

You're literally the sweetest

Warnings: SMUT, inappropriate use of the force, language, pnv penetration, FEM! reader, let me know if I missed anything 🩷

Obi Wan sat across from you, his breathing was level, his face was relaxed, and his thoughts we concentrated. You knew this because every once in a while you would peek your eyes open and look over to him.

"(Y/N)" he said when you opened your eyes to peek at him "sorry.." you let out a sigh. meditation was your thing! You were always so content and focused however ,you'd never done it with another member of the council

"something bothering you?" Obi Wan questioned with his eyes still closed

You've learned from past experiences that it's better to be honest with your peers, that's the Jedi way "it's just that I'm having a hard time.. relaxing I guess?"

"be cautious of your thoughts (Y/N), just because I'm here doesn't mean you can't meditate" how did he know that?

"Obi Wan! What have I told you about getting in my head? I have private things in there" You opened your eyes completely and stood up. You weren't actually that upset, more scared that he would find your hidden fantasies.

"I'm gonna go train. Meditation isn't working.. maybe swinging a lightsaber around will"

---

You faced the large rock with your ignited saber in hand thinking about what you wanted to do. You went with sokan, sokan was developed by Jedi during the great sith war..it felt right.

The glow of your (L/C) saber grazed over the rock before you yelled and ran at it with full five attacking

"Y/N), I know you're having the time of your life slashing the holy hell out of that rock, and also- why a rock? You have PLENTY of sparring partners in there"

You rolled your eyes "I need to be alone" and you did. You needed to think about all of your emotions, because you didn't want to love obi wan, you just wanted to make a legacy, a change, help people. Falling in love wasn't helpful for a jedi.

"you know talking about things like this can help"

"you don't know what's wrong so how could you help, you don't know what I think about"

"actually I do" obi wan walked over to you and you pressed the small red button on your saber to retract the blade.

"what are you talking about?"

"oh maker I want to get dicked down by him so bad right now, like for real-"

Obi Wan had said to you exactly what you thought while meditating earlier "Obi Wan.."

"I would let him do anything to me" he looked down to you and smirked "your thoughts are extremely loud"

---

The big chrome door slid shut while Obi Wan pushed you down to his bed. Your hands immediately flew up to your robes sliding them off while he did the same

"Obi Wan please.." that was all he needed to use the force. He slightly drew a long stripe from where his cock was slamming into you up to your sensitive clit

"let me in honey" and you did. Whenever a force user has sex it's amazing..you felt like Obi Wan was a part of you and you felt as you were a part of him. "Shit, s'so tight..I'm gonna" you looked up at Obi Wan with pleading eyes "m-me too..."

I KNOW THE SMUT WAS SHIRT BUT I HAVEN'T WRITTEN AN ACTUAL STORY IN A WHILE😭

[charmwasjess]

If there’s a legit good reason why Qui-Gon chose to specialize in form IV, Ataru, the Hawkbat lightsaber form, aside from the simple, likely fact that he did it to troll his old Master Dooku (who outright calls the acrobatics of the form “ridiculous,”) I’d like to hear it. By which I mean I’ll write you a post about it.

Ataru is fast, aggressive, and inclined to treat the battlefield as a 3D space where the air is just as comfortable a place to be as on your own two feet. A direct response to Soresu, the “defense is my attack” form, Ataru flips that into “attack is my defense.” (We won’t talk about Makashi’s contribution to the conversation: “no defense whatsoever, but think fast, I just threw a dinner fork at you so hard it stuck in your metal arm!”) 

Of course, the most recognizable and classic application of Ataru is Yoda’s; we see him whizzing around people’s heads like a little green hummingbird in his AotC and RotS duels. Qui-Gon’s version looks nothing like that. If we weren’t told, I think it would be hard to guess that those characters are using the same form. In Duel of the Fates, Qui-Gon has to move down or over those infamous walkways repeatedly. He just jumps them: no flips, no aerial maneuvers, no bouncing off the walls. And this isn’t simply a practical choice for his age and build: Jocasta Nu is running up walls and leaping out of skyscrapers at easily aged 40 years older than Qui-Gon, and for all Dooku’s bitching over Ataru acrobatics, he does more flips to simply avoid walking down a few stairs than Qui-Gon, Master of the flip form, does in his entire time on screen. 

And yet, on some level, all of that makes perfect sense for Qui-Gon. Who better to completely subvert a form? This is a character who is contrary as fuck, full of wonderful contradiction, who blends lightsaber theory centered on attack and aggression with literal meditation. While the most notable scene, actually kneeling in the pose and everything, is in TPM, he does battle meditation repeatedly on a mental level in the Master and Apprentice and Padawan novels. (And it rightfully freaks out Obi-Wan.) Qui-Gon takes Ataru’s “your whole body is a weapon” and doesn’t apply that to somersaults, but rather, to moves like punching Darth Maul off a balcony as we see him do in Duel of the Fates. He fights in a way that throws himself bodily up against obstacles. You can see the same physicality of his relationship with his weapon in the scene where he is simply burning through the blast doors in TPM. We’ve seen Jedi cut through things on screen other times, but that scene is remarkable and memorable for Qui-Gon’s level of intensity. He is the battering ram. 

And we could loop back into lineage, couldn’t we? Qui-Gon stands in a line of Jedi with unconventional relationships to their lightsaber forms; their choices are formed in context of and in conversation with each other. Those backward, momentum-gaining swings from Duel of the Fates look very familiar, but who trained Qui-Gon? (And who notoriously had a problem with Ataru and might've pushed his student on some workarounds or encouraged him to cut out bits he didn't like, such as aerials?) And speaking of, is it a stretch to think that Dooku’s own casual backflips are less a considered choice and more an old habit, being himself trained by a Master who has only a theoretical relationship with gravity? 

All this to enjoy just another example of how personal the lightsaber forms can be to specific Jedi, and what wonderful fun it is to unpack the ways they use them differently because of their unique personalities and lineage.

[thetreestumptherapist]

Hot Take/Controversial Opinion on the star wars sequel choreography

It should suck. Now let me explain.

Sword fighting is indeed an art form. And it was smooth, complicated, and beautiful...when there were teachers to pass on different techniques to the next generations. But, during the new republic era, there were no teachers that knew the old forms. Luke and his students were starting from scratch. Sure there might have been notes and records, but that's not the same as having an instructor adjust your footing or directly show you the intricacies of a specific swing and the pros and cons of the various lightsaber fighting forms.

If all artists got killed off and all we had to go on were notes, and written instructions, our art would suck at first too.

Ben and Rey's fight choreography is the equivalent of a couple of people grabbing some paint brushes and trying to recreate the Mona Lisa or The Starry Night but having no clue what techniques were used or guided instruction. It makes sense it looks sloppy and unrefined. And it also adds a sense of relatability for kids who grab their lightsabers and go outside and play without having a good idea of what they are doing. Because those kids often want to look like Obi-wan and Anakin, but don't have the instruction or even the fine motor skills yet, so they also have unpolished choreography. Does this mean they won't grow up and have those moves look more polished and skilled? No, because they will have gotten practice and/or instruction. But, there was no instruction for the new Jedi Order.

Also, I would like to add that the choreography in the original trilogy wasn't as impressive either. Again, this makes sense canonically, because Obi-wan and Yoda didn't get to teach Luke the finer parts of sword fighting before they died and they are the only ones who would remember it at this point, aside from Anakin/Vader, who had to rework his fighting style to make up for the limitations caused by his suit.

The lightsaber fights in the sequels are sloppy and I'm glad about it.

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[thrawns-babygirl]

people

PEOPLE!

Do you know what the thrawn: alliances comic adaptation means!?

WE GET YOUNG THRAWN

WE GET THRAWN USING THE FIBERS OF HIS CLOTHES TO MAKE A ROPE LEAVING HIM SHIRTLESS

WE GET THRAWN SWINGING ANAKINS LIGHTSABER

ALL ILLUSTRATED FOR OUR ENJOYMENT

AND JAN 2024 IS SO CLOSE!!!!

Good day to be a thrawn girlie (gn)

[breakfastteatime]

Today's Survivor request is 'Echo' for @animatedjen

Master Cordova joins Cal in the stacks of holobooks, the elder Jedi radiating such a sense of peace and belonging Cal can’t decide if he wants to ask how he does it or run away and hide in shame.

He takes the secret third option and simply says, “Hi.”

“Hello, my friend,” Master Cordova says. “I take it you are finding plenty to occupy your mind.”

BD laughs louder than Cal, and he dodges Cal’s half-hearted swat, leaping onto Master Cordova’s shoulders for cover. “Plenty, thank you,” Cal says.

BD does a jig and tells Master Cordova Cal wouldn’t know how to not occupy his mind even if his life depended on it.

“Well then, perhaps I can pick your mind for a while.”

“Sure, although I’m not sure there’s much I can tell you that you don’t already know. Unless it’s about Venator deconstruction. There’s a good chance I know more about that than most people.”

“If it’s alright with you, I wonder if I might make use of your psychometry.” Master Cordova holds up his hands. “Please, do tell me if I am stepping out of line. You owe me nothing, and I do not wish for you to feel like a performing bogling.”

Hearing Cal being compared to a bogling is apparently the funniest thing BD has ever heard, and he cackles so much he almost falls from his perch. Cal shakes his head, promises Master Cordova it’s fine, and follows him to a small chamber off to the side of the main archive. Inside, a small collection of artifacts awaits them. An Anchorite bows, wishes them both a good day in a melodic voice, and slips out to leave the three of them alone. Master Cordova shows him what appear to be Zeffo artifacts – Cal recognises the art style and the script. While BD scans, Cal runs his hand over them, echoes singing as they always do. Those on the surface belong to Master Cordova and shimmer with the excitement of discovery. Diving deeper, Cal reaches further into the past. There, deeper down, the original carver’s emotions. Pride at being asked to create an image of the Sage Eilram, the Life Wind guiding mind and hands to create perfection. Cal reports his findings to Master Cordova. “Sorry, nothing to say where the Zeffo went.”

Master Cordova shakes his head. “I expected nothing of the kind. Now, may I ask for one more?” This time, the artifact he reveals is distinctly Jedi in origin.

A lightsaber hilt. Its ostentatiously curved hilt and intricate carvings suggest it is a relic of a bygone age, even more bygone than the one Cal grew up in. Lightsabers were sleek, functional from what he remembers. This? This is art. Curious, Cal touches it.

She raises her weapon, a final salute to her enemy, to her Padawan, to the Force, to the Jedi Order who went to such pains to train her. The Sith are coming, and she cannot allow them to pass. Deep breath. Release your fear. The Force is your ally, you are a conduit. She ignites a brilliant blue blade and swings into battle and – 

His master is gone. Dead. Not even a body left to cremate. She took many of the Sith out with her, their bodies scattered where only her robes remained. He opens the lightsaber piece by piece and takes the crystal nestled within. Reconstructing it, he places it in its final resting place with all the other weapons of the honoured dead.

Cal opens his eyes. Master Cordova watches intently. Embarrassed to be the focus of such focused attention, Cal hands over the lightsaber hilt and shares its story. “Where did you find it?”

“In an ancient temple, one so old even my old friend Jocasta Nu knew little about it,” Master Cordova explains. “I found it in a small nook. There were many such nooks in the wall, but this was the only lightsaber that remained. Cal, the wars with the Sith are ancient. The echo remains that powerful?”

“Yes.”

Master Cordova seems delighted. “What a wonder it is to know that we truly do become part of the Force, immutable within it.”

“I’m sorry you can’t perceive it the way I can,” Cal says.

“Oh, my friend, there is no need to apologise! Just hearing about these few things is enough for me.”

A subtle, no, evil laugh emanates from a certain droid. Master Cordova could ask Cal to find more echoes in the room. In fact, Cal would love to do so, wouldn’t you, Cal?

Cal shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

Master Cordova lights up.

It’s Cere who comes to rescue Cal hours later. She suggests they all go for lunch, and subtly pulls Cal aside while Master Cordova and BD go on ahead. “Here.” She slips a pair of pills into his hand. “You don’t have a migraine, do you?”

He takes the pills, swallowing them dry. “Nah, just a headache,” he says honestly. “Takes a lot more these days to trigger anything more serious.”

She stares at him. He shrugs. “It’s been a while, Cere.”

“Too long,” she says, her hand squeezing his.

[gravehags]

the papas and the ghoulettes/ghouls at disneyland

nihil - grumpy old shit that his sons deposit on a bench on main street and abandon for the day. complains loudly to no one how he wishes seestor was there (she refused to come). somehow manages to end up with an enormous waffle cone and makes a kid cry.

primo - loves, loves, loves the people watching. is content to sit on a bench of his own (far, far away from nihil) soaking in the vibes. spends the rest of the day ambling around the park appreciating the variety of plants that are on display. loves the fantasyland dark rides.

secondo - loves the thrill rides in both parks but is especially fond of space mountain. wears a simple pair of black mickey ears all day and commands quite a presence at the carthay circle bar in california adventure (he loves good liquor and a good meal). has several tourists coming up to him for pictures because they mistake him for pitbull.

terzo - adores the energy of the place and like primo, loves to people watch. charms his way into club 33 and texts ridiculous and smug pictures of himself hanging out there to an outraged secondo all day. flirts heavily with the princesses in the most over the top romantic displays. can frequently be found vibing in the enchanted tiki room.

copia - this man is riding haunted mansion on repeat and loving every second of it. loves a good dole whip or a churro (anything sweet really) and will always laugh outrageously at all the skipper’s jokes on jungle cruise. manages to make multiple babies smile and laugh throughout the day, to the utter delight of their families. cries at the fireworks, always.

cumulus - she loves fantasyland - the dark rides, the music, the fairy tale vibes. can commonly be found riding the carousel looking stunning and singing along with the songs. cries openly at it’s a small world while dew and sunshine laugh affectionately. like copia, has a sweet tooth and will never say no to cotton candy. insists on the pack staying to watch the fireworks every night.

cirrus - easily the coolest person in the park, always at cumulus’ side. loves tomorrowland and galaxy’s edge - anything with a space theme really makes her smile. compiles a professional team to conquer smuggler’s run made up of mountain, rain, sunshine, and herself. will sip happily on a blue milk and definitely ends up buying a lightsaber.

sunshine - this girl is a toontown girl!! she loves the fun architecture and delights in meeting the characters (collects autographs too). she and swiss could ride runaway railway all day and the two of them love to annoy their fellow pack members by singing the song from the ride on repeat. will fucking demolish several tigger tails and spends the rest of the evening complaining about her upset tummy.

aurora - the pack princess? you know she’s hunting down her fellow princesses throughout the park - when she finds the other princess aurora she’s beside herself with glee and insists swiss and aether act as her personal photographers. her favorite ride is soarin’ and will absolutely be the kind of person to swing her legs while she’s flying through the air.

swiss - this ghoul insists on the pack all getting classic mickey ears with their names stitched on them and makes mountain take several group selfies with them all wearing them. incredibly competitive (and good) at the carnival games on pixar pier and passes out his stuffed animal trophies to the crowd of kids that comes to watch him.

dewdrop - like copia is a huge fan of the haunted mansion. will ride with a different pack member every time and point out different goofy ghosts while telling them “that’s you”. he learns how to play grim grinning ghosts on his guitar when they get home which delights phantom to no end. loves a good candy apple. will spin the teacup so hard on mad tea party with sunshine they makes phantom puke.

rain - he loves pirates of the caribbean, loves the damp air and the darkness and will happily ride it all afternoon. most likely to make friends with random cast members throughout the park which baffles mountain who asks “how do they all know you?” is a fun little beverage connoisseur but his favorite is the non alcoholic mint juleps they serve in new orleans square.

mountain - wears the oswald ears to make himself look even taller and can frequently be found looming over children and smiling benevolently at them. is the first to offer aurora a piggy back ride when her cute impractical shoes hurt her. loves grizzly river run and the entire grizzly peak area of california adventure (redwoods enjoy redwoods, naturally). his favorite ride is guardians of the galaxy: mission breakout.

aether - the organizer of the pack he has absolutely considered getting those leash backpacks for several of them. big man loves indiana jones and the temple of the forbidden eye and definitely ends up buying an indiana jones fedora. his favorite ride though is big thunder mountain and will always insist on sitting in the back (the best seats, naturally).

phantom - yet another haunted mansion super fan and gleefully drags aurora and dew into the shops to buy all the merch. loves his jack skellington mickey ears and the little magnetic zero he got to sit on his shoulder at all times. like sunshine, collects character autographs in a book and his favorites are dr. facilier and cinderella. gets really into pin collecting and trading.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 20 - 2nd chances ☄️

Tags : hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending

~

“Relax that grip, your lightsaber is not going to fly away.”

Anakin turns around from where he’s performing his kata, alone in the training room as the sun only starts to rise in the early morning hours, and glares at Obi-Wan. Even without having to feel him in the Force, the older Jedi can tell that by his posture alone that something is wrong.

“I’m not a Padawan anymore.” He huffs, turning his back again and centering his balance, deliberately ignoring Obi-Wan.

“And yet, you hold that thing like one.”

Anakin, who started yet another set of kata interrupts himself in the middle of a move, turning his lightsaber off and walking straight to Obi-Wan, shoulders and faces tensed.

“What’s your problem ?”

“What’s yours ?” Obi-Wan replies quietly, crossing his arms on his chest. “You’ve been unfocused all day yesterday, you made mistakes you shouldn't have made, mistakes that could have cost you your life or Ahsoka’s one. And you’ve been ignoring me.”

Anakin grits his teeth, hand curling tightly around the handle of his lightsaber. His eyes are thunderous, and even though he’s shielding from Obi-Wan, the older Jedi can still feel anxiety and anger crashing like waves against the walls he built around his mind, letting some of it leak through the cracks.

“I’m not ignoring you.” He decides to say, which Obi-Wan finds interesting because it was the less relevant reproach he made.

He should have redirected the conversation to Anakin’s mistakes, to his responsibilities as a Jedi Master and as a General, he should have lectured him about his recklessness and his tendency not to follow orders but sometimes, sometimes he’s just a man.

“Then why didn’t you come to bed last night ?”

“Couldn't sleep.” Anakin groans, looking away and pushing his sweaty curls out of his face.

“You’re doing it again.” Obi-Wan says, trying not to let hurt show on his face, even though it flashes in his eyes for a second.

“Doing what ?” Anakin mumbles.

He’s looking at the floor, shoulders tucked in as he swings his lightsaber left and right. He looks nervous and uncomfortable, like a kid being scolded and Obi-Wan sighs as they’re about to have the same conversation for the hundredth time.

“You’re pushing me away.”

“I’m not.” Anakin replies immediately, like he always does. “I just needed space, you can’t seem to understand that.”

Obi-Wan looks at him, a sharp pang of pain stabbing him right in the guts. His throat feels dry suddenly.

“Alright, then.” He says, turning on his heels. “I’m giving you space.”

He’s almost at the door when Anakin’s steps echoe on the marble floor, fast and uncertain.

“Obi-Wan, wait.”

Obi-Wan doesn't wait. He walks through the door, taking the corridor that leads to his quarters. He’s tired of repeating the same things over and over again, he’s tired of letting Anakin stomp on his heart and try to fix it afterwards. He’s tired and he would like to be the one someone takes care of for once.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin walks after him, and Obi-Wan can feel him try to reach out through their bond, but he keeps it tightly close. “I didn't mean it.”

“Yes, you did.”

“Maybe I did.” Anakin admits. “But I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just… You know I’m shit at talking, opening up to people or whatever.”

“You sure are.” Obi-Wan replies impassively. “That’s why you even stopped trying.”

“Obi-Wan…” Anakin realizes then that he’s not going to get away with an apology.

Looking around to be sure they’re alone, he grabs Obi-Wan's wrist and pulls him closer. Someone could turn at the angle of the corridor at any moment but Anakin doesn’t care, he cups Obi-Wan’s face and pulls him into a kiss, trying to express all his chaotic feelings into this simple gesture.

Obi-Wan gasps softly into the kiss, closing his eyes for a second. He could give in, pretend that everything is alright when Anakin kisses him like that, holds him like he’s the most precious thing in the world, he could push his pain even deeper inside and endure for another day.

There was a time when the warmth of Anakin’s embrace, the passion in his eyes and the softness of his skin were enough to ease whatever conflicts arising between them. There was a time when Obi-Wan would look away from all the unaddressed, ugly things stagnating in the meanders of their resentment just because Anakin took him in the safety of his arms and told him it was alright, they were stronger than this.

But there’s only so much someone can endure before starting to crumble. Obi-Wan feels like pieces of him have been crumbling for a long time.

He can’t keep denying, pretending and lying to himself when his heart is bleeding out in Anakin’s hands, no matter how he tries to fix it with pretty words and empty promises.

Gathering all of his remaining strength, Obi-Wan gently pushes Anakin back, tearing himself away from his warmth and already shivering at the loss of it. He knows he’s the first one who’s going to suffer but he has to do something before it destroys them both.

“We should take a break.”

“A break ?” Anakin frowns, his arms still wrapped around his waist. “Yes, of course. I’m gonna go shower and then we can do whatever you want. We could go to that-”

“A break from us, Anakin.” Obi-Wan interrupts him quietly.

Anakin’s expression morphs into complete confusion, his brows furrowing and lips parting as he stares at Obi-Wan in incomprehension.

“What…?”

Obi-Wan swallows, compelling his voice to stay steady.

“I think we should take some time away from each other, for our own good.”

The look on Anakin’s face flickers between incredulity, hurt and confusion. Obi-Wan doesn’t think he has any idea of what he’s talking about. He probably has no idea of how much Obi-Wan is suffering right now, and has been for some time.

“But why ?” He asks, fingers tightening on the fabric of his tunic.

“Because…” Obi-Wan exhales, keeping his eyes on him. “Because I need it. I need a break. I need time to think.”

“Think about what ?” Anakin asks, voice hardening.

Obi-Wan can see him tensing by the second, jaw locked and shoulders contracting in a straight line. He knows exactly how this will go. He braces himself for the anger already dancing in Anakin’s eyes, knowing that it will pass eventually.

“About us.” Obi-Wan replies. “This… What we have now, this is not healthy, Anakin.”

“What ? Because I didn’t sleep with you last night ?” Anakin asks incredulously.

Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. How could he explain several months of things going down in only a couple of words ?

“It’s not that. Not only. It’s just… a lot of little things. Like the fact you never talk to me when things go wrong.”

“That’s why you want to break-up ?!” Anakin exclaims, taking a step back and breaking all contact between them. “Because I’m not talking to you ?”

“I didn't say I wanted to-”

“You don’t love me anymore.” Anakin interrupts him, his face twisting into something complicated.

“I never said that, Anakin.” Obi-Wan replies.

“You said you wanted to be away from me, what's so different ?” Anakin asks, breath catching in his throat.

“I said I wanted some time to reflect on our relationship.” Obi-Wan corrects, forcing himself to stay firm.

“Away from me.”

“It would be… easier, yes.” Obi-Wan admits.

He has to look away at the hurt, so obvious on Anakin’s face.

“I don't understand.” He breathes out. “At least tell me what I did, we can talk about it, we can… we can find a solution. There’s always a solution, that’s what you tell me all the time !”

“I talk to you all the time.” Obi-Wan lets out a mirthless laugh. “You never listen.”

“But I can listen.” Anakin retorts, grabbing him again, more desperately. “I can listen, now. Please. I can do better.”

“Anakin…”

Obi-Wan tries to gently untangle his fingers from his tunic but Anakin grabs him harder.

“No no no, please. Please, Obi-Wan.” He gasps, panic mixing with despair on his features, eyes filling up with tears. “Please. Don’t leave me.”

Obi-Wan knew it was going to be difficult. Resisting Anakin’s anger was one thing but his sadness and desperation were something else. He never learned how not to fold when he was crying. But he had to learn because making another concession now was only going to postpone the problem, he knew it.

“I’m not leaving you.” He whispers, cupping his cheek to brush away a tear rolling down his cheek. “I just need some time.”

“You’re leaving me.” Anakin says, a small sob breaking past his lips. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not.” Obi-Wan repeats as patiently as he can while his own heart breaks in his chest. “I’m not leaving you. I love you. I just need to figure out where we’re going with this.”

“Why can't we figure it out together ?” Anakin asks, tears streaming down his face freely now. “How much time do you need ?”

“I don't know, Anakin.” Obi-Wan murmurs. “Please don't make this even harder.”

Anakin lets go of him, then. He steps back, wiping his face with the sleeve of his tunic while wet sobs continue to shake his chest.

“I only have you.”

Obi-Wan’s heart clenches painfully at this. He knows that, and he also knows that it’s not right. Anakin should have other people to rely on, friends to talk to. He knows it's partly his fault if he doesn’t, he should have pushed more, maybe force him to create links with other kids. But the only one he wanted to talk to, to be close to was Obi-Wan and maybe Obi-Wan’s ego was perfectly content, fed with Anakin’s exclusive attention.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Leaving Anakin crying in the middle of a corridor, depriving him of any comfort, closing his part of the bond from his pain was probably one of the hardest things Obi-Wan ever did.

But it was that or losing himself.

~

Surprisingly, Anakin gives him space. He doesn’t try to reach out to him after their last discussion and he even accepts to go on a mission on the Outer Rim.

For two weeks, Obi-Wan is alone with himself.

At first it’s hard. There are signs of Anakin everywhere. From the toothbrush near the sink to the smell of his soap on the sheets. Obi-Wan can't bring himself to clean them.

The worst part is the deafening silence of their bond. Where they spent days and nights sharing thoughts and feelings and sensations there’s now an aching emptiness that almost makes Obi-Wan break down and give in.

Almost.

Every time he thinks about messaging Anakin on his comlink he remembers about the sleepless nights he spent alone in their bed while Anakin was somewhere else, cutting himself from him.

He can't live like that. He can’t keep running helplessly behind Anakin to only get crumbs of what's happening inside his mind. He can't keep making compromises when Anakin simply imposes. He can't keep suffering in the name of unconditional love.

Maybe he should put some conditions. Build some boundaries, which he never really did because Anakin had the habit of putting his walls down as soon as he tried to protect himself, always begging for more of him in the middle of the night and Obi-Wan would give him eventually. More and more and more until there was nothing left of himself.

He desperately needed to find himself again.

So he uses this time alone to take care of his body and mind. He spends a lot of time outside, feeling at peace only when he’s in the middle of raw nature, surrounded by the living Force so thick he can taste it on his tongue. He spends a lot of time meditating also. Training, stretching, walking around and cooking.

It strikes him then, how poorly he’s been taking care of his body in the last couple of months. He notices it in the way his joints and muscles ache unusually when he stretches, or in the more pronounced hollow of his cheeks and stomach when he looks at himself in the mirror.

It frightens him, how easy it was to stop caring about his body and mind, how easy it was to let himself be consumed by Anakin’s hunger, how easy it was to accept it as his new normality.

When he realizes about this, he knows it’s the beginning of his healing journey.

One day, as he gets back to his quarters after he spent the day hiking on the mountains of a neighboring planet, he finds fresh flowers in front of his door.

They’re gorgeous, a mix of colors and smells that delight all of Obi-Wan’s senses. He doesn’t know what kind of species they are but he's sure they can’t be found on Coruscant. And there’s a lot of them ; the bouquet is so huge that he almost misses the little box tucked between them and the door.

Kneeling in front of the present, he tucks the flowers in the crook of his arm, softly inhaling their exotic perfume, and picks up the box with his other hand. There’s a note on it. Obi-Wan can't help his heart from racing when recognize Anakin’s wobbly handwriting.

I miss you impossibly. I’m ready to listen, if you still want me.

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. He turns the card around and there it is, one single instruction.

You know where to find me.

Obi-Wan puts the card down with trembling hands. Anakin is back. Anakin is here. Anakin brought him flowers, which never happened before.

Enjoining himself to stay calm and to not throw away almost three weeks of hard work on his needs and limits, he brings everything to his room and sits at his desk to think.

The box contains one of Obi-Wan’s favorite essences of tea, as well as a little vial of perfume, something that brings vivid memories back when he smells it. There’s only one place where it can be found so either Anakin was sent to this system for his mission, or he made all the way there to bring him back something he knew Obi-Wan loved dearly.

Either way it makes his heart flutter all the same.

As much as he wants to go find Anakin, he still takes the time to put the flowers in a vase, take a shower and put on a drop of the perfume he's been offered.

It’s almost dark outside when he leaves his room, heading to the Temple’s rooftop. He knows Anakin is waiting for him there. It’s the spot where they spent many nights looking at the starry skies, Obi-Wan teaching the constellations and their mythology to his Padawan. It's the spot where Anakin hides when he’s angry, frustrated or sad and doesn't want anyone to find him, except Obi-Wan. It’s the spot where they kissed for the first time, awkward and sweet and so perfect. It's the spot where Obi-Wan spent sleepless nights after he decided to take a break from Anakin.

And now Anakin is there, sitting on the edge of the roof, in the exact same spot Obi-Wan saw him for the last time. The deep orange light of the sunset bathes him in warm colors, painting his curls and face in red gold. He had pulled his hair from his face, tying them in a neglected bun on the back of his head, letting the rest flow freely down his back. Obi-Wan loves how long they are now.

He approaches and Anakin gets up from the railing but he stays where he is.

“Hi.” He says hesitantly.

“Hello, Anakin.” Obi-Wan smiles softly, joining him to sit by his side on the edge of the roof.

Anakin sits back at a reasonable distance and Obi-Wan can see him swallowing tightly.

“I missed you.” He whispers, tucking his hands inside of his sleeves as if to prevent himself from touching Obi-Wan.

“I missed you too, dear one.” Obi-Wan replies. “How was your mission ?”

Anakin bites his lip and nods, looking at his feet.

“Good. It was interesting. People were very kind to us.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Obi-Wan smiles. “Did you make some friends ?”

Anakin nods again, to Obi-Wan’s surprise.

“Actually, yes.”

He gives a side glance to the older Jedi, cheeks turning slightly darker.

“I had interesting discussions with some of them. Made me understand a lot of things.”

Obi-Wan quirks an eyebrow, curious.

“Really ? About what ?”

“About… About love and relationships.” Anakin answers. “About hurting people we love even when we don’t mean to.”

Anakin turns to him then, giving him an hesitant look.

“You talked about all that with people you just met ?” Obi-Wan asks.

Saying that he was surprised is an understatement. But he’s also glad that Anakin found someone to talk to.

“I talked about you.” Anakin admits. “About us. I was a bit desperate, I think. I didn’t want to lose you. I- I didn’t think it would feel so… liberating.”

Obi-Wan blinks, wondering if he heard right.

“You talked about us to… random people ?” He repeats, just to be sure. “And it made you feel better ?”

“Don’t worry.” Anakin replies quickly. “They don't care that we're Jedi. They promised they’ll keep it a secret and I trust them.”

“That’s not… what bugged me the most.” Obi-Wan admits. “Do you want to share what you learned ?”

Anakin nods and then scrunches his nose.

“Rule number one, don’t fuck up the most beautiful thing happening in your life if you don't want to get slapped behind the head. Even if I think it helped me get my mind straight.”

Obi-Wan blushes a bit and chuckles as he imagines the scene in his head.

“But seriously.” Anakin continues, anchoring his eyes in Obi-Wan’s. “I’m sorry I’ve taken you for granted like… from the start. It’s so easy to love you I guess I just forgot to make efforts.”

“Anakin…” Obi-Wan bites the inside of his cheeks to prevent himself from saying it’s okay.

It’s not okay. He has to stop making excuses for Anakin. He has to stop forgiving everything, especially when it hurts that bad.

“Thank you.” He says instead.

“I hurt you.” Anakin keeps going. “I didn’t realize how much. I- I had a hard time understanding that it was not one bad thing, but several little along the way. I understand now, and I’m sorry.”

Obi-Wan moves closer, taking Anakin’s hand in his own.

“I should have told you before.” He confesses also. “I should have been clearer and I should have set boundaries from the beginning but I was afraid to do so. So I guess we share the blame.”

Anakin squeezes his hand gently, caressing his skin with his thumb.

“I’m ready to make efforts, you know ? I don't ever want to lose you again, it’s… I can’t breathe when you’re away from me. I want you to be happy because I’m not happy if you aren’t.”

“Will you come to me when you're feeling bad ?” Obi-Wan asks.

“I’ll try my best.” Anakin replies, but it’s enough for Obi-Wan for now.

Wrapping his arms around Anakin’s shoulders, he pulls him into a tight embrace and Anakin immediately finds his place back into his arms, like a missing piece made to fit against his chest.

“I love you.” Anakin murmurs against his neck, heart beating against Obi-Wan's as it should be, always.

“Until the end of times.” Obi-Wan whispers back against his hair.

[moxiebustion]

Anakin Skywalker was a great Jedi.

He was not a good Jedi. Not even remotely.

Same thing you say? No, not really.

It's a bit like the difference between being rich and being wealthy. They sound like they're the same thing, involving the same quantifier (money) but they're not.

Rich is when you have enough. Your job pays well, you own a nice house, a couple of cars, you and your family can save a nest egg and go on some nice holidays and stuff. Your kids have their college tuition paid, you can afford to support an elderly or disabled family member relatively well. Life is good.

But you still have to work. Your partner still has to work. Your kids, while they will be very well educated and have all the advantages, will still need to get a job to survive on their own. You make your money by the sweat of your labours - maybe more than you need, but it's still down to the work of your hands.

Wealthy? Wealthy is where you own such an enormous portfolio of properties, have such a collection of heirloom artefacts, have so many bloated trust funds that you could spend every single one of your living days do nothing and you'd still have enough money to live on and then some. So would your children. And your grandchildren.

The surgeon making six figures a year is rich. They guy that has the entire wing of the hospital the surgeon works in named after him is wealthy.

Which brings us back to Great Jedi versus Good Jedi. They sound the same, with the same quantifier (Jedi), but they're not.

Anakin Skywalker was a Great Jedi in the sense that his deeds would get written about in history books. Helped win a planet's freedom at nine. Mastered a saber at nineteen, in half the time any of his peers took. Apprenticed to the Order's premier negotiator. Was knighted after one-on-one combat with a Sith. Pilot, Warrior, Hero Without Fear - he talked the talk, he walked the walk. He was everything people thought a Jedi should be and was therefore a Great Jedi in the eyes on minds of the galaxy.

He was a complete failure at being a Good Jedi.

The smallest, weakest and most fumble fingered member of the creche was a better Good Jedi than he could even dream of being. The Archivist who had never passed a single saber test ever given to her was a better Good Jedi than him and all his prowess. The elderly old farmer who had spent their entire lives up to their neck in dirt and hadn't been involved in a single galactically vital peace treaty was a better Good Jedi than Anakin Skywalker could even begin to comprehend.

They all wanted it.

They wanted it.

They wanted to be Jedi.

That's not to say they never wanted other things; marriage, or children, or life outside of service. People want things. Even Jedi want things.

But they never wanted anything in the galaxy more than they wanted to be a Jedi. Being a Jedi was the one thing they were willing to give up everything else for. They understood that it was a big commitment, that it would ask a lot of them, and they looked at that choice with their eyes wide open, fully trained and educated onto what it would entail and said yes, this is what I want to be.

(And that's not unhealthy! That's not "repression". Is a priest or a nun repressed? Is an asexual or aromantic repressed? Is anyone who ever got a dream job that took them away from home, kin and country repressed, wrongheaded, brainwashed? Or have they looked at their options, have they been fully informed and educated on what the life they choose will mean for them and everyone around them and decided yes, this lifestyle, which is not like everyone else's, which may even separate me irrevocable from the mainstream, suits me. I don't need or want the rest of it as much as this. This is what I want).

Anakin Skywalker wanted to be a Jedi.

But he didn't want to be a Jedi more than he wanted anything else.

He could swing a lightsaber, he could quote esoteric tenets and philosophies, he could pilot a ship, he could perform a variety of Force techniques, he could more than hold his own in a fight.

None of these make a person a Good Jedi.

You have to want it. You have to want to be a Jedi, above all other things. The talent might make you Great but it's the wanting, the choice, that makes you Good. You have to look at it, all of it, clear eyed, and decide you want it.

And he... didn't.

He just lied and said he did. At first to himself.

And then, knowingly and willfully, to everyone else.

Until he wasn't even a Great Jedi anymore. He wasn't a Jedi at all.

And he still didn't get anything else he wanted either.

[ghostofskywalker]

Cognitive Recalibration

Commander Wolffe/Reader

Fictober Day 16 of 31

Words: 1,161

Summary: In the time following Order 66, you worked to remove the inhibitor chips of Imperial clones. This time, you had your sights set on an old friend, and the consequences were dire if you failed.

Note: this is set after wolffe's appearance in the bad batch :) i was halfway through writing this when i realized the reader was basically running a trap-neuter-release program with clones (trap-dechip-release) like people do with colonies of stray cats lol.

Clone Troopers Masterlist

You watched from your hiding spot in the bushes, waiting for your target to finally step withing range of your stun blaster. This time, you couldn’t afford to screw up. 

When you had gotten the comm from Rex, you didn’t believe him at first. But now, as you stood in the shadows and watched as one of the men you had worked closely with during the war exit an Imperial transport shuttle, you were forced to face the truth. One of the people you had trusted to have your back in battle would likely try to kill you within seconds of laying eyes on you, and you hated that feeling. 

By some twist of Maker’s grace he was alone, but that did not mean that this process would be easy. There was no room for even a single misstep, especially because he would recognize you. 

If you had not completed your objective for other clone operatives, there was less of a risk that they would know your identity, and you certainly didn’t make a habit of swinging your lightsaber around anymore. Now however, there was no hiding. If you didn’t effectively knock Wolffe out before removing his chip, he would recognize you instantly, and you would once again be thrown into a fight for your life, mirroring the one you only narrowly escaped from not too long ago. 

Selfishly, there was another reason for your wanting to save Wolffe from this terrible fate. You had spent quite a bit of time around the 104th when General Koon was called for meetings and solo missions, and you had grown quite close to the commander. Although you doubted there was a future for the two of you that didn’t involve intense heartbreak, you still wanted to see him removed from the chip’s influence and freed from the Empire’s grasp. 

Your hand shook right as he approached, and the weapon brushed up against the leaves of your hiding spot. Kriff, you thought. If he turned around to see the nose of a blaster peeking through the foliage, this was not going to go well. 

Wolffe moved a half-step more, and suddenly you had your shot. Tapping into the force to guide the bolt to its target, you let out a sigh of relief as the commander dropped to the ground. But that didn’t mean all this was over, and you still had a lot of work to do if you wanted to accomplish it all before he woke up.  

***

Binders were a precaution, and it hurt your heart to restrain Wolffe even in his sleep. The makeshift medical bay that you had essentially been using as a catch-and-release headquarters for de-chipping imperial clones didn’t exactly have the most up-to-date tech, but it did its job, and soon the commander was waking up, the effects of the stun bolt finally wearing off. 

You were sitting across the room, inputting information into your datapad when you heard your name. Immediately you tensed, not sure what kind of reunion this was going to be. Although Wolffe was now inhibitor chip-less, he could still believe that the Jedi were traitors, or that the Empire is where his loyalties should lie. 

“What are you doing?” he asked as he sat up, raising his eyebrows at you when he realized he was wearing binders on one wrist, keeping him from getting off the cot. “I thought you were dead.” 

“The Empire does too, and I’d like to keep it that way,” you said. “Rex told me where to find you.” 

Wolffe paused. “I should have known he wouldn’t let things go.” His free hand moved towards his hair, pausing as he felt the bandage on his head. “What did you do to me?”��

“Removed your inhibitor chip,” you said. “The thing that made you lash out and kill Master Koon.” 

Okay, maybe you shouldn’t have jumped all in on guilting him, but it was the only thing you could think to get him to understand the stakes here. Thankfully you hadn’t been traveling with the 104th when Order 66 was called, but you had reached out through the Force for your former master the moment you were able, only to receive nothing but cold emptiness in return. You knew what had happened, a theory that was later confirmed when you saw his ghost. 

“The Empire did that to us?” Wolffe asked, and you could tell he was beginning to question everything. 

You shook your head. “Whoever the architect of the Empire was, yes, but we don’t know too much about how this all came to be. It was only after reuniting with Rex did he explain what it felt like, and even then I was still unsure if I trusted him until I saw the chip, and proof of its removal myself.” 

Wolffe paused. “What do I do now?” His voice was so much quieter than it had been before, and you did not envy the swirling storm of thoughts, guilt, and worry that must be taking over his brain at this moment. 

“For one, I know that Rex would be more than happy to welcome you to his crew, if you want to fight back against the Empire,” you said softly. “Or if you just want to live without going through any more battle, there are places where you can settle.” 

Wolffe paused. “What if I don’t know yet?” 

“You could travel with me for a little while, until you figure out where you want to go,” you offered. It was a selfish proposal just as much as it was selfless, as you couldn’t help but think about a future where the two of you could exist side by side, whether that was in a romantic relationship or not. 

Wolffe looked at you. “If I say yes, will you take the binders off my wrist?” he asked, the ghost of a smile beginning to cross his face. You smiled back as you walked over to him and removed the restraint, trying not to think about how warm his skin felt under your fingertips. 

Right as you were about to step away, Wolffe reached out and gently took your hand. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. “For saving my life.” 

Confused, you looked at him. “What?” 

“What I was doing before, for the Empire,” he said. “That wasn’t living. You took a chance on me, even though it could have been dangerous for you, and I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” 

“How about you just never try to kill me?” you asked, trying to lighten the mood while also thinking about how much you wanted to kiss him right now. 

“Cyar’ika, you’ve certainly got yourself a deal,” he said, smiling for the first time in (what you assumed) was a long time. 

Maybe the future didn’t hold as much heartbreak as you expected it to, you thought. Or maybe it was all worth it, for moments like these.

- the end -

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[messrsbyler]

just picture steve having a crush on jonathan for the longest of times and when halloween comes around he waits impatiently for the byers kid and his group of friends to show up because steve knows they’ll be chaperoned by one jonathan byers dressed up in something taken straight out of some of those fantasy books steve makes sure steer away from each time he finds himself browsing through the school library—not that that’s a common event, either way. libraries aren’t necessarily steve’s scene.

either way, steve has been building up a reputation for quite some in front of jonathan and while jonathan seems to be the kind of person to keep his walls high and sturdy at all times, steve can still see some dents have been made. he’s sure he once made jonathan blush, a moment he keeps always at the forefront of his mind and that fills him with a weave of adrenaline and goosebumps each time he revisits the memory. giving away obscene amounts of candy to a group of little kids jonathan is chaperoning for the night is a big part of said reputation, and so when the impatient knocks on his door come, steve is already with a hand on the doorknob, irresistible smile in place and a hopeful flutter in his chest.

steve’s eyes land on the kids first and he takes quick notice of their disguises. he’s not sure what exactly he’s looking at, but there’s a bunch of capes through across narrow shoulders, all of vibrant colors, some plastic fangs, pointy ears, fake swords and what might be a lightsaber.

“went all out this year, didn’t you?” steve cocks a brow at henderson. the kid’s chest puffs with pride.

“worthy of double the candy, some might say,” henderson says back, way too cocky. steve rolls his eyes, not wanting to enter a heated negotiation with a twelve year old kid if he can help it.

steve’s eyes roam through the group once more before they shoot up, that familiar warmth and flutter already building in his gut. it’s quickly snuff out, though, when he only finds an empty space behind the kids.

steve frowns.

“well?” the wheeler kid says, impatient and tapping his foot on the ground. steve doesn’t appreciate his attitude. “the candy?”

lucas watches steve expectantly, eyes flicking to the glass bowl filled with candy that steve’s been holding for about ten minutes while he nervously waited on the other side of the door.

jonathan’s brother doesn’t say much. he just shifts on his feet, looking uncomfortable and leaning a bit closer to wheeler when a group of kids whoop a little too loud on the other side of the street.

“just you lot tonight, then?” steve asks, careful to tuck his bad mood behind his tone.

wheeler scowls. steve notices the hand he keeps on the byers kid’s wrist, which add an edge too soft that definitely collides with his sharp and tense instance. steve has never liked wheeler. too much of a brat, for his taste.

“what does that supposed to mean?” wheeler asks, eyes squinting.

“no chaperone?”

“we aren’t little kids anymore. we don’t need a babysitter,” sinclair says.

steve shoots him a flat look. “you are twelve.”

“and a half!” henderson chirps.

steve doesn’t feel like fighting with a bunch of kids tonight, so he simply gives away the candy and shooes them away. by the time he swings the door closed the disappointment of not seeing jonathan has fully settled in his chest, which makes him both annoyed and a bit embarrassed. since when has he been the type of guy to swoon over anyone, waiting impatiently and celebrating whenever he’s given even the smallest amount of attention? steve is usually on the other side of the equation, making people wait for him and want him.

ugh.

steve gathers his stupid pride that at some point he had let slip to the floor and is about to make his way to the pool just to wash off his bad mood with a swim when a new knock stops him on his tracks. he rolls his eyes and groans. there’s still some candy on his bowl, but he selfishly wants it all for himself.

another knock comes. steve sighs, puts the bowl aside on the long table propped against the wall, and opens the door.

“sorry, we are all out of candy."

“i’m sure that’s illegal during halloween,” a voice comes, soft and familiar.

steve snaps his eyes up and finds jonathan byers standing there, no disguise, dressed in his normal flannel shirt on top of a white one, old jeans and worn out sneakers. his hands are tucked in the front pockets of his jeans and his hair is a bit of a mess, as always.

steve’s stomach turns and goosebumps run down his spine as that magnetic feeling pulls him towards jonathan. steve clasps a hand on the door frame to keep himself in place.

it’s hard, but steve manages to move on from his surprise and pull himself together. he replaces his wide eyes for what he hopes is a teasing look, cocking his head to the side and offering a smile.

“and asking for candy without a costume on is not?” he teases. jonathan huffs and it’s the closer steve will get to a laugh, so he gladly accepts it takes pride in it.

jonathan looks down at himself and nods. “i won’t tell if you don’t.”

“deal.”

jonathan smiles again and steve might be about to start bouncing on his feet if he doesn’t stop it now. jonathan eyes steve and his expression grows a bit guarded. he’s nervous, unsure. this is their usual dance. jonathan, why while approaching steve and then being at the ready to push the distance back between them, and steve rushing to seize control of the situation and keep him close instead.

“wanna come in?” steve asks.

jonathan lifts his brows. “no party you need to be at?”

steve tilts his head. “not feeling like partying tonight. but… uh… i could be convinced to a movie and some popcorn.” steve ignores the way his cheeks grow warm. “what about you?”

jonathan watches him for a second, expression blank except for the tension around his mouth. “how is your taste in movies, harrington?”

“some would say immaculate.”

jonathan sighs and smirks, clearly not convinced. “i guess i’ll take the risk, then.”

[graylinesspam]

Most people's hands develop calluses from wielding their lightsaber. Ahsoka has seen thousands of them. Puckering skin along the tops of their palms. Raised patches of skin across the side of their thumbs

There were differences between species, like the way that wookiee skin polishes to a near shine when it's worn against. Or the way the aquatic species scales would wear away until rough scar tissue replaced them.

But Anakin's metal arm was incapable of wearing in the same way that flesh does. Given the choice between which metal he wanted to be stronger Anakin chose his hand. The grip on his lightsaber is made of some common alloy, something cheap and easy to replace. It's not a soft metal by any means simply softer than his hand. So the place where his fingers grasp it has worn shallow grooves in.

Ahsoka turns the hilt around in her hands analyzing the way his hands slide along the shaft as he wields his weapon.

She can see the shape of his fingers in the marks, the places he grips harder are worn roughly, tension scratches catching on the lines across the pads of her fingers. But there are other lines worn smooth and reflective. She's sure those are marks from his thumb sliding along the length of it when he switches his stances.

His hand is so strong. Strong enough to swing around the heavy lightsaber. Strong enough to wear away at the metal.

Your lightsaber is your life.

Ahsoka holds Anakin's in her hands.

She wishes she didn't. Wishes she never had to. She hates this part of their relationship. Being a padawan means being responsible for your master as much as they are for you. If he wasn't so reckless. If they weren't in a war. If the council would only take their lives more seriously. If she were stronger. better.

She's in the bargaining stage now. She can feel that.

She hates sitting beside his bed. Anakin was supposed to be strong. Stronger than her. Better than her. How was she supposed to hold his life in her hands. They were so much smaller. So much weaker than his. And he was so much. So much personality. So much presence in the force. So much responsibility.

She has no idea how Obi-wan carried him and the responsibility of being a master.

The weight of it is as heavy as his lightsaber in her hand.

But she will carry it. Until he's strong enough to wake again and take it from her. A jedi's lightsaber is their life. And so long as he is unconscious Ahsoka will care for it. She will guard it. The way a padawan is supposed to.

Force knows Anakin has done it plenty of times for her.

Headcannon that Jedi lightsabers are never supposed to be put down. It's bad luck and general bad safe guarding practice for them to be unattended anywhere outside of the temple. So partners are trained to look after each other's lightsabers if they are ever incapacitated. Regardless of what kind of partnership it is.

But padawans and masters especially practice this and it's like a huge trust building exercise.