#push obi wan kenobi into a fountain

[mrshiraethsworld]

HEAVENLY LIGHT ━ obi-wan kenobi ✩

Chapter Three - New Assignment The secret garden was tucked away in an abandoned room that had been overrun with fearless ivy and vines. The walls were covered in it and over time Daphnea had begun to plant various species of wildflowers until the entire room appeared to be more of a forest rather than a palace room. The girl gathered her dark blue dress that threatened to pull any young buds out as she clamored over to a small swing, a book placed delicately on the table beside it. Daphnea smiled when she heard the whoosh of her nursery droid, M90-0 or Moo, following her. She had hoped to lose the plump droid in all the chaos of the morning, but it appeared it was much more stealthy than she had realized. She laughed as it walked in beside her, being careful not to snag its soft material on the twigs and vines.  “Moo!” Daphnea called out. The droid turned around and cocked its head to the side as if to say, ‘what did I do now?’. “Find a place to plant yourself down. We are going to be here a while.” The droid did as she bid and found a comfortable spot beside a large spot of soil, which it proceeded to puncture with one of its large fingers. Daphnea watched the way it played with the dirt, pushing it down and watching as it never rose again. The droid appeared to be in some kind of trance and the teen couldn’t help but envy it. Daphnea sat down on the wool-covered couch and her body began to relax as she gently took the book in her hand and swayed quietly. The book itself didn’t hold any matter of interest to her, but it allowed her to escape. A feeling that was far too rare for her liking. She pulled herself closer into her cocoon as the morning turned to afternoon. “Hiding from our dear mother?” Daphnea jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice. She looked over to see Catalea dressed in a beautiful floor-length gown of deep green. One of her shoulders hoisted a part of the gown that flowed like a fountain down her back, while the other had vines weaving up her arm. A silver and gold belt cinched her waist in with a couple of green kyber crystals attached to the side. Her dark hair was pulled up with a gold piece defining her look of regal grace. The young teen felt underdressed as she giggled, “And you’re not?”

THE LEGEND OF BAETHEA read here: wattpad

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[tennessoui]

"honestly, just stop it" or "i'm not even sorry" for princess diaries au?

"i'm not even sorry"! for the princess diaries au (or, the obikin version of the scene in princess diaries 2 where they push each other into a fountain)

(2.2k)

Riyu Chuchi is a nice enough princess. She’s kind, and she’s pretty, and she has enough of a backbone that Anakin feels confident that if he ever does something she doesn’t like or approve of, she’ll let him know.

These things are important in a marriage, Anakin thinks. 

Riyu, a twin born two minutes after the first, loves her country enough to leave it and marry someone else so there’s no contender for her sister’s throne. And Anakin loves his country enough to marry a woman and resign himself to living what’s always going to be at least partly a lie to produce an heir, to keep Genovia’s monarchy going strong.

It’s a duty he spent most of his life—eighteen years of it—unaware he had, but now at twenty-one, he can’t ignore it anymore.

He doesn’t want to, is the thing. He wants to get married. Now. So the love has as much time as possible to grow. His parents married young and for love, and they stayed together right up until the day his father died.

Anakin will marry young, for duty and not for love, but Riyu seems perfectly nice. Very accommodating so far, though this is mostly based on how the last candidate for the wedding he’d met had turned up her nose at the pears.

Anakin’s only been prince of Genovia for three years, but that’s long enough to get pretty attached and defensive about their pears.

She’ll make a great wife is what everyone says when Anakin asks, which is all Anakin needs to hear to start planning how to ask.

They’ll have a long engagement, if she says yes, which Anakin knows she will. Maybe if—if certain things had not happened, they wouldn’t even need to get engaged immediately.

But certain things had happened.

Obi-Wan Kenobi had happened.

Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of Genovia’s more well-endowed with land lords, had happened. Had—had waltzed up to Anakin’s private coat closet freak out, got him drunk and halfway in love before humiliating him at his own birthday ball, only to then corner him in a linen closet and kiss him halfway back to being in love, only for them to get caught by a few gossipy maids.

So now Anakin is getting married so people will stop fucking talking about it. He can’t be king of Genovia if the people don’t trust him to lead, and the selection of articles and tweets and opinion pieces his valet leaves out for him in a box every morning makes it very clear that getting caught making out with a man sixteen years his senior in a fucking linen closet has not inspired confidence in Anakin’s ability to make decisions with anything other than his dick.

So marriage.

Engagement now, marriage in a year or two. A long engagement. To give Anakin as much time as he can to ease into love, build it and commit to it, even if he’ll never feel it naturally, not for Riyu.

And he thinks maybe today’s just as good a day as any to propose. They’re hosting a garden party on the palace grounds because there’s nothing his grandfather is more proud of or in love with in Genovia than his gardens. 

Well, his gardens and Anakin, which is why Anakin thinks maybe today is the perfect time to ask Riyu formally for her hand in marriage. She’s looking very nice and put-together, wearing a blue dress that definitely makes her look. Very nice. And her hair is up too, also looking nice, and she’s smiling at everyone and remembering all their names, which is great because Anakin is terrible at that, and her smile definitely makes her look—nice.

Lunch has been served and eaten, and now the part that’s left is Anakin’s least favorite: walk around, make nice, and slowly go insane trying to pretend his shoes aren’t pinching his feet and his head isn’t hurting from the dehydration and the intense amount of sun beating down on him. At least with Riyu on his arm, he’s not suffering alone.

If he’s never able to love her like a husband loves his wife, at least he may be able to love her like a teammate. The thought gives him a bit of comfort, ring box burning in his jacket pocket. He shifts slightly, bringing himself and Riyu to a standstill on the garden path between two groups of people. They’re at the mouth of one of Qui-Gon’s miniature hedge mazes. Anakin could lead Riyu through it, to the center, and propose.

The ring is heavy in his pocket. No, he will propose. He—

��Princess,” a very familiar and very unwelcome interrupts, and Anakin turns around immediately, already flushed and angry because Obi-Wan Kenobi had not been invited. Anakin knows that for a fact, and he’s going to fucking—

Obi-Wan Kenobi isn’t even looking at him. “Princess Riyu, what a surprising delight.”

“Lord Kenobi,” Riyu replies, looking unfairly and remarkably charmed. “I wasn’t aware you were coming.”

“He wasn’t supposed to—”

“How could I miss a garden soiree, my dear?” Kenobi asks innocently, cutting right through Anakin’s voice as if he weren’t interrupting his future king. “Has anyone told you how lovely you look today?”

Anakin scowls. “Yes.”

Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow. 

“He did say I looked very nice,” Riyu allows, shooting Anakin a small grin.

“You do,” Anakin mumbles, unable to shake the feeling that he’s on the wrong end of a joke he doesn’t quite understand.

“Well, a compliment no matter how bland from a future king is worth ten from a mere lord,” Kenobi says blasely, and Anakin scowls.

“Obi-Wan, please, I’m about to get jealous,” an unfamiliar but no less welcome voice says, and Anakin blinks away from Kenobi for the first time since the man’s arrival to see another man—a boy, really—standing just behind Kenobi.

The boy has dark curly hair, amber eyes, and a strong jaw. He looks about Anakin’s age, and holds himself like he’s God’s gift to this hellish party.

“Apologies, darling. Please,” Kenobi wraps an arm around the boy’s waist and brings him level with them. “Meet Princess Riyu of Pantora.”

Riyu coughs politely.

“And, of course, Prince Anakin. Of Genovia.”

“Who are you?” Anakin asks when the boy reaches out a hand to shake. He crosses his arms over his chest.

Obi-Wan arches his other eyebrow. “Darling, where have you been the past five years? In the back of a closet? This is Set.”

Anakin colors, heart picking up as fury stirs in his chest. “Of?” he asks the boy. Set. Whatever.

Set smirks. Anakin thinks he’s definitely got maybe the most punchable face he’s seen, like. Ever.

“Of nothing,” the boy says.

“Of pop stardom,” Obi-Wan intercedes. “Set here is the number one most listened to artist across the board in Genovia, did you know?”

Obviously Anakin didn’t know. “Oh, well. Riyu here has been playing the piano for the past twenty years, she’s quite talented.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan smiles cooly. “Set was discovered while busking on the streets during his senior year of high school.”

“Oh, just last year then?” Anakin asks innocently. “Did you know Riyu has a master’s in international relations and business entrepreneurship?”

“That’s noteworthy,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, but Anakin’s eyes are drawn to the way his hand curls around Set’s waist like it belongs there. “I read an article a few days ago that said Set is the future face of Genovia.”

“Then it looks like you have a type,” Anakin bites out, dropping his arms to curl his hands into fists.

“Like hell I do,” Obi-Wan snaps back, face pinched and eyes sharp. “Set is actually honest about what he wants and from who.”

“Set,” Riyu says, “would you like to escort me to the lemonade table? I’d hate to get in the way of their pissing competition.”

“It would be my pleasure, milday,” Set replies, extending an arm that Riyu gratefully grabs. “And has anyone told you that you look lovely today?”

“And meant it?” Riyu says with a laugh as they depart. “I don’t think so, no.”

“The nerve,” Anakin hisses at Obi-Wan, reaching across the scant distant between them and shoving hard at his chest. “You can see yourself out.”

He spins around and stalks away. He doesn’t get very far at all before Kenobi is catching his wrist and pulling them back together.

“You know I can’t, princess,” he murmurs, just for them, and it’s so fucking—it’s the fucking worst, because his voice is so light but his eyes are so dark. His hair looks so soft, and his beard smells so good, and he—he looks fucking lovely, in his light gray linen suit and light blue tie that brings out the gray in his eyes and he’s looking at Anakin like he knows that Anakin thinks he looks lovely and Anakin is going to scream.

“Why not?” he snaps, begs, bringing up a hand to push Obi-Wan away but forgetting to do so as soon as Obi-Wan catches it with his free hand.

“Because,” his voice drops. “That’s not the way a suit jacket is supposed to lie.”

The words don’t make sense, not until Obi-Wan darts a hand down, into the exposesd inner pocket of Anakin’s suit jacket to pull out the ring box.

He raises both eyebrows, face flushed as if he has a reason to be angry, before turning on his heel and stalking away, through the hedges to the Qui-Gon’s stupid miniature maze and away from the party all together. 

Anakin is quick to follow.

After all, the bastard stole his engagement ring.

“Give that back!” he demands as he chases after Obi-Wan’s surprisingly quick figure. “I am your future king—I could—hang you for this!”

Obi-Wan whirls round quite suddenly as they turn a corner, pressing him back against the wall of the hedge, higher here now. “And I’m just a lord,” he says, slipping the ring box into his own backpocket as he boxes Anakin in with his arms. “Trying to stop his future king from making an idiotic mistake.”

“Oh yeah?” Anakin scowls. “Pretty sure all the mistakes I’ve made so far have involved you!”

“You don’t want to marry that woman, Anakin,” Obi-Wan says as if Anakin hasn’t spoken at all. “You don’t have to—”

“Maybe a lord can show up to a party with a man on his arm, but you do not get to tell me what my duties are as a prince—”

“No one is asking this of you!” Obi-Wan puts his hands on his shoulders, as if barely resisting the urge to shake him. “No one in Genovia cares if you marry now or not! They are excited to have you as their king, they do not need a queen—especially one their king will not want!”

“You have no idea about what I want!” Anakin shouts, using his height to his advantage to loom as much as he can over Obi-Wan. When that doesn’t feel like enough, he shoves him out of his way, spinning them around and against the hedge so hard the plant shakes.

“I think I do,” Obi-Wan murmurs, allowing himself to be held, and it’s only then that Anakin realizes he’s been staring solely at the other man’s lips. “Do you really think kissing me was a mistake?” he asks, tilting his head up in a much more effective use of their height difference.

“Yeah,” Anakin says roughly, swallowing the sudden rush of saliva in his mouth. “I regret kissing you. Fucking—all the time.”

Because he can’t stop thinking about it. Because Obi-Wan keeps showing up. Because he can’t focus around him now. Because he smells so good. Because—because—

“I don’t,” Obi-Wan confesses, closing the gap between their lips and whispering the words against his lips. “I thought about it, and I know I should feel—different. But if I must watch you marry a woman we both know you will never love, I cannot regret stealing those moments with you. I’m not even sorry.”

Anakin finds it hard to swallow, air scarce between their faces. He stumbles back, and this time Obi-Wan allows him to go, an unreadable look on his face.

“I—you’re wrong, I—could, I would love—we’d—you’re wrong—”

“I’m not,” Obi-Wan’s face looks tender, which is an expression Anakin isn’t sure he’s seen on him before. “I—wish I were to make it easier for you.”

He reaches into his pocket and withdraws the ring box, taking Anakin’s hand in his own and wrapping his fingers around the velvet material.

“I’m sorry I’m not,” he says very quietly, as Anakin drops his gaze to stare at their overlapping fingers around the box. He stares at it long after Obi-Wan squeezes his fingers and leaves.

He almost wishes he’d kissed him instead.

He almost wishes he’d pushed him in a fountain. That would have been kinder.

[sri-fanfic]

SW: Revenge of the Flimsi

Obi-Wan frowned at the pad with his reassignment orders; he split the screen and loaded the regulations for reassignment in the second half and scrolled through until he found the part the strange Jedi Knight had shown him the week prior. Bandomeer was not an eligible destination for a new initiate to the Agricorps. Not only that but his own preference for assignment had been completely ignored; the Agricorps was at the bottom of the list he'd filed with the council of reassignment at the beginning of the week.

Someone was playing games with his future, games he didn't like, games that he was going to make someone regret when he buried them under a metaphorical pile of flimsiwork. The thirteen-year-old scrolled through the list of forms he'd found on the same server as the regulations and started with the one for reporting an adverse assignment destination.

He followed that up with a delaying action, scheduling an appointment in several weeks, the farthest out he was allowed to, with the council of reassignment to discuss his placement and future with the Jedi Order. His tablet chirped, and the reassignment flimsiwork updated to pending status with the date to be determined.

A brittle smile briefly graced his face before subsiding beneath the mask of serenity he'd been working on.

~-~

Yoda tapped away with his gimmer stick across the temple to the room of a thousand fountains and frowned. His plan should have worked; the fool boy Qui Gon Jinn wouldn't last half a day, let alone the five days to Bandomeer in close proximity with the younger initiate. He just knew that Obi-Wan would be good for Qui Gon, so why had he just seen young Kenobi being hassled by that Kiffar Vos in the refectory. The flimsiwork should've been perfectly settled, and the boy should be on a ship to Bandomeer in the room next to Qui Gon, at least a day away from the temple by now.

He harrumphed to himself and hopped into the branches of one of the many trees in the middle of the garden, settling in to meditate on the force.

~-~

"What," Obi-wan leaned away from Quinlan's outstretched finger, poised to poke him in the side.

"You did something," Quinlan Vos moved to kick him under the table.

"I did nothing," Obi-wan denied and dodged as the force warned his shins.

"Very convincing," Quinlan used the distraction of the dodge to steal fried tuber from Obi-wan's plate.

"Hey," Obi-wan complained, holding up an arm to shield his plate from further raiding.

Quinlan used the distraction to poke Obi-wan's side and frowned. "You did something; I can sense it."

"Okay, I may have countered an attempt to push me together with that dikut Qui Gon," Obi-wan showed him the Bandomeer assignment on his tablet.

"What?" Quinlan asked.

So Obi-wan explained the regulations he'd been pointed to and the forms he'd used to postpone the assignment.

~-~

"What's this?" Quinlan asked a few days later, holding out a pad.

"I don't know," Obi-wan replied. "How about you let me read it first." Quinlan paced as Obi-wan scrolled through the information on the pad.

"So, the flimsiwork hasn't been used correctly for a while, but it does get filed by the flimsiwork droids," Obi-wan observed.

"Not just that," Quinlan said, taking the pad and tapping through the screens before returning it to Obi-wan.

Obi-wan scrolled through the list he'd been presented with, "What is all this?"

"Requests for Jedi aid, I think," Quinlan replied. "There're about a hundred requests in there from someone named Jaster for access to the Jedi library. Not even the private council only part but the main Jedi library, which is supposed to be open to the public."

"So he's asking for access that doesn't need to be requested, and the droid doesn't know how to respond? Who's supposed to be reviewing this folder?"

Quinlan shrugged and tapped a few buttons to filter everything from Jaster into its own folder and send a reply about the library being public access.

"Should you be doing that?" Obi-wan asked.

"Who's going to stop me," Quinlan said and started scrolling through the messages and the form replies sent by the flimsiwork droid for Jaster.

Obi-wan grabbed his own pad, saving his work and clearing the screen, "Alright, show me how to get to that." The two initiates scrolled through the messages wondering why it looked like the last time this inbox had been checked was over 500 years ago.

"Where do you think I should send this one," Obi-wan asked, pointing out a request from somewhere called Rattatak that had been pending for two hundred years about a piracy problem.

Quinlan shrugged, "I think that's close to Serrano; send it to Dooku." Obi-wan listened for a moment and decided the force liked that suggestion, so he did.

~-~

Mace Windu adjusted his tunic and strolled into the temple, happy to be home from a long mission yet fighting a headache from the changing shatterpoints around him. Something had changed while he'd been gone; it was yet to be determined if this was a good or bad change.

"Master Tholme," Mace paused.

"Welcome back, Mace," Tholme replied.

"I trust all is going well with Padawan Vos," Mace resumed his path to the halls of healing.

"That boy is up to something, him and the Kenobi boy," Tholme offered conspiratorially as he followed the Haruun Jedi.

"Kenobi hasn't been chosen yet?" Mace questioned.

"Not yet, no; Qui Gon was adamant in his refusal."

"Why… of course, that meddling green troll," Mace muttered. "Please tell me he didn't…"

"Oh, he did, but either the boy got lucky, or someone showed him the proper form to submit; he countered most of it, delaying it by at least a month with a mandatory hearing with the council of reassignment. The only way around it would be for the boy to withdraw the request in person or be claimed as someone's padawan."

"How did you figure all this out," Mace asked.

"Padawan Vos informed me," Tholme grinned.

"Of course," Mace replied, "I have a feeling something's up, keep an eye on them until Vokara is finished fussing over me, will you."

"As you request," Tholme smirked.

~-~

"Friend Obi-wan!" Initiate Bant Eerin hugged Obi-wan tightly before leaning back and pinching at Obi-wan Kenobi's cheeks. "You look pale, Friend Obi-wan. Friend Quinlan, does Friend Obi look pale to you?"

"Perhaps he's pale because he can't breathe with you crushing him," Quinlan Vos deadpanned.

"Friend Obi-wan should take better care of himself," Bant nods serenely. "Friend Quinlan will make sure of this, or friend Quinlan will feel my wrath."

"Guys, why do I suddenly have a chill down my spine," Quinlan said to the room in general.

Obi-wan breathed deeply when Bant released her hold on him and gently patted her on the shoulder. "I'm perfectly fine, my darling Bant."

"I thought you had been assigned to the Agricorps," Bant said. "Not just yet," Obi-wan smirked.

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

~Anakin Skywalker, Jedi General~

When it's quiet, when it's still, and nothing in the world gives him any peace, Obi-Wan will go back. He tells himself it's the last time, every time. Jedi do not grieve the dead long past their loss. Jedi grieve and let go. Jedi rejoice in life, and look forward to being one with the cosmic force someday. A promise to be reunited with the lost.

Still, General Kenobi goes, more nights than not. Perhaps he isn't a very good jedi after all.

The Halls of Heroes are less of a room, and more like a series of hallways that connect useful chambers. Paintings and relics from eras come and gone line the walls. Warriors from the Army of Light are framed up right next to healers lost to the devastation of temple Ossus.

The walk through these corridors is especially bright tonight, with three of the four moons nearly full. It's light enough the nocturnal jedi out and about are averting their eyes and avoiding the windows. This suits his purpose. He takes the best lit pathways, and avoids being spoken to.

It's for the best, he’s simply not good company this time of night, or in this mood.

As he gets closer, Obi-Wan passes by the myriad tribute to those lost in this endless bloody war, the lives taken in these past eight years of horror. He acknowledges each face, but pauses especially long at the fire-water fountain kept lit at all hours to honor the clones.

Cody…

He cannot linger or he will break, and so he does not. His final destination is between a room purpose-built for conflict meditation, and an incidental meditation corner where the starlight and plants just so happen to radiate very pleasantly with the living force. A little nexus of joy.

Obi-Wan likes that His memorial is nearby it, though he knows a droid charging station might be more appropriate.

The jedi master arrives to the place he should not be, and only manages one syllable of his usual greeting before having to swallow and turn his face aside. He pats the frame instead.

After a long while, Obi-Wan gathers himself up enough to say what he came to say. The one he speaks to had always preferred bluntness, so, he is blunt.

“Well my dear, now that the situation on Ryloth is stable, the council is back to pushing me to take on a new padawan. Yes, still a terrible idea, I know. I've seen this particular cycle happen before, however. My fellow councilors will push those less inclined to take on new learners until either they are paired with a poor match, or-” he pauses to clear his throat, “-or they end up with a padawan they don't want, and the youngling must live with the knowledge that they were never really wanted.”

He sighs, running his fingers along the frame, chancing one quick glance up at the perfect capture of square jaw and mischievous eyes.

“I don’t want them to pair me with a youngling not predisposed to war either. I am still on the front at least once a month. I must have a learner that will not be broken by such a situation.”

Obi-Wan sets his forehead against the wall beside the memorial. “We were so fortunate with Ahsoka. I didn't realize it at the time, but we were just… so terribly fortunate.”

He swallows again, stepping back and hugging himself as he looks up at his lost brother-friend-padawan. “I'm going to the creche today to meet the younglings looking for a master. Guide me? Help me find a padawan that... One that-”

He can't say it.

Obi-Wan turns to lean back against the wall, and spends a little while just breathing.

"I miss you," he says instead.

[labyrinth-runner]

Place: in the moonlight.

Reason: sad or hurt feelings!

So I've been bingeing Bridgerton. So. AU TIME

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 1500

The Season was long and grueling. You'd become tired of the glittery jewels and empty compliments given by the men in attendance at the balls.

Sure, you knew everyone should want to find a suitable match, but becoming a spinster was becoming more and more appealing by the moment. You were tired of always having to be perfection. Having to be ladylike. Having to smile when someone said something of little importance, and of caring about trivial things such as ribbons and bonnets.

You longed for the solace of your books.

That wasn't to say that someone hadn't caught your eye. The Duke of Stewjon, Lord Kenobi, had a reputation that preceded himself. He was kind, caring, and dashingly handsome. Yet, most knew he would not marry. He didn't have time for it, choosing to enjoy the life of a bachelor where he could frequent clubs and grow his mind instead of having to mind a wife.

For someone who didn't want to find a match, he was certainly enjoying the spoils of the Season, dancing with every suitable lady and whispering things into their ears until they smiled at him.

It made you sick. How dare he play with the emotions of those women? They didn't know any better. Not like you, anyways.

"My lady, may I have the honor?" he asked, coming in front of you to offer his hand.

You eyed his hand, thinking it over. His smile drooped slightly at your hesitance. Refusing would cause quite the scandal, and perhaps it might dull that twinkle of mischief in his eyes. But, dancing would give you the opportunity to trade barbs with him, and that was too tempting to pass up.

"You may, Mr Lord," you replied, slipping your gloved hand into his.

The notes to a waltz began to drift over the crowd.

"You dance beautifully," he murmured into your ear.

"Tell me, My Lord, how many women have you paid that compliment to this evening? Surely you must be nearing a negative balance in your accounts at this rate." Your smirk was gloating.

"I can assure you, Madame, that I do not pay any compliments that I believe are undeserved. It is not my fault that I am in the presence of such distinguished ladies tonight. But, even if I wasn't, I may promise you that my funds are quite sufficient."

"Why do you even come to these events if you are not acting in earnest?"

"I am earnestly enjoying myself," he shot back. "Just because I have no intentions of taking a wife does not mean that I desire to be a societal leper."

"You clearly have no remorse for hurting those you leave behind." You sniffed.

"I have not injured anyone, Madame. In fact, I would argue for the opposite. I have helped the confidence of these women. If I show interest in them, then they will have more suitors. I am a man of good taste."

"Oh how kind of you, then, to bestow your approval on me." The bitterness dripped from your words. "However, I can assure you, My Lord, that I do not need your help in securing the attentions of men. I do not wish to be wanted simply because another should seek to covet me. If I am to be wanted, it is to be on my own merit."

You curtseyed to him and departed from the dance floor, pushing your way through the glass doors to the gardens outside for air.

The cold air hit your lungs in gasps. Your heart was racing and your blood was boiling. You stomped off towards the hedges near the fountain, needing to get away from it all.

"How dare that man presume that I am not interesting enough to find a suitor on my own!" you huffed. "Of all the arrogant, ridiculous notions." You looked down at your reflection in the water, seeing tears prick the corners of your eyes. You angrily splashed. "Oh, what are you looking at!"

"Careful. If anyone heard you talking to yourself, they might consider that you were mad."

"How dare you follow me out here." Your hands balled to fists at your side.

"My lady, I simply wished to make sure you were alright. You left in such a hurry that I thought you may be unwell." Lord Kenobi took a step into the clearing.

"How gallant of you."

His brow furrowed. "If I have offended you in any way, I do beg your forgiveness."

You turned towards him. "You must be joking."

"I just wanted to help," he said with a sigh.

"That's the issue," you groaned. "Not every woman is a damsel in distress in need of assistance."

"You certainly are not."

"You're correct. I am not."

"Have you had many suitors?"

"I have, My Lord." You sat on the edge of the fountain, toying with a flower on your skirt.

"Then why was your dance card empty tonight?"

"Perhaps I am more judicious in who I offer my time to than most."

"You turn suitors away?"

"No."

"Then why-"

"Because!" you huffed in frustration. "Can't you understand not wanting to settle? Not wanting to dim your light just because others are too afraid to bask in your brightness in fear that their own light might seem dim in comparison? Surely a man as learned as you ought to understand not wanting to be anything less than your true self in order to attract another."

He sat next to you, leaning his elbows on his knees. "You don't wish to be a wife."

"I do," you said, realizing that you did want that dream still. "I just do not want it at the sacrifice of myself. Right now I belong to no man. I can read whenever I like. Think about whatever interests me, and pursue those interests. Right now I am free. I have waited a long time for such freedom, and I will not give it up for a man who merely sees me as a breeding cow in a dress."

"You're so much more than that."

"I know," you replied, a small smile toying at your lips.

"Do you know why I never married?"

"Because you are a stubborn bachelor who doesn't want to be tied down, and you're too honorable to keep a mistress and a wife," you said. "You don't want a life of unhappiness."

"The right woman wouldn't make me unhappy."

"Is that why you still come out? You're still trying to find a wife?"

He shrugged. "It isn't an active goal. I'm no Don Quixote with an impossible dream. I'm merely surveying options as they arise." He gave you a playful smile. "One cannot enter a garden and not stop to admire the flowers."

You rolled your eyes, standing up to place some distance between the two of you. "We're more than a posy to place in your lapel, My Lord."

"I somehow have a knack for offending you." He shook his head.

"Perhaps if you attempted to speak from the heart that you clearly do not have then you might not offend me so," you shot back.

He stood, taking swift strides towards you. He towered over you, eyes boring into yours. They were impossibly blue in the moonlight. "I can assure you that I have a heart, Madame."

"How do you figure?" You held his gaze, swallowing the lump in your throat.

"I know that I possess a heart because it only beats wildly when I'm with you."

Your eyes flashed in surprise as his arm looped around you, pulling you against him. His lips crashed against yours, the sensation foreign and new but not unpleasant. Heat was building within you, but you knew it wasn't anger. Your hands bunched into his lapels. You weren't sure if you wanted to push him away or pull him closer. In the back of your mind, a voice was screaming that this was improper. That he was merely using you, his latest fancy before he left you for whatever flower caught his eye next. Yet, a softer voice reminded you that he never once acted outside the bounds of propriety with anyone in high society before. The entirety of your acquaintance with Lord Kenobi played out in your head. The first time he called upon you, when you spent most of your time besting him at archery in the country, when he was promenading with your cousin but kept stealing glances at you on horseback with Mr. Skywalker. The various barbs you were exchanging at balls and dinners.

Realization washed over you. You hadn't turned away everyone else because they were unsuitable. They were unsuitable because they were not Lord Kenobi. Somewhere along the way, you had fallen in love with this perpetual bachelor, and had contented yourself to become a spinster rather than admit it to him and risk being hurt.

Your hand came up to cup his face, and that is when he pulled back, the two of you panting for air.

"Forgive me." He cleared his throat. "I seem to have forgotten myself." He rushed off through the clearing, leaving you in the clearing by yourself

"Funny, I seem to have found myself," you murmured to yourself.

[swbumblebee]

The war is over, the Jedi Council is tirelessly working to clean up the Galaxy, and Master Healer Vokara Che is On A Mission.

It was a miserable collection of councilors that were sitting in the mostly empty refectory. Whilst no longer stretched to near-breaking point, the mess left in the wake of Utapau and the death of Sideous required endless long days and late nights.

Which was fine, it was practically a picnic compared to the stress of the war. At least they were all together in the Temple once again. What was not fine, was their now constant near proximity to both the Temple healers and Clone medics.

Obi-Wan Kenobi looked distastefully at his ‘food plan compliant’ portion of meat and carbohydrates in front of him.

“Not hungry” he muttered unhappily, poking at it childishly.

Glancing around to ensure none of Master Che’s co-conspirators were in earshot (somehow, she’d recruited most of the clones and half the temple to her ‘bully the council back to perfect health’ vendetta. Including the serving staff, who had been far too smug when delivering their respective meals) he looked across the table.

“Shaak, would you like some?” he asked sweetly, the very picture of generosity.

The Togruta in question snorted.

“Oh no thank you, I’m quite happy without getting yelled at for enabling you again Kenobi” she said equally as sweet, but somehow showing far too many teeth. No doubt she was remembering the bollocking she received from the irate Healer last time Obi-Wan had craftily given her his food, in favour of half a ration bar.

Nobody was safe.

They all went back to starting at, poking at, or pushing their food around, in silence.

“Psst, Kenobi” Mace gave him a kick under the table. “I’ll swap you” he said, whispering and keeping his head down.

The Master of the Order gestured down at his own prescribed plate of light salad and fish. Obi-Wan looked at it longingly.

“Stop it you two, you’ll just get in trouble” Adi Gallia scolded in a soft voice, keeping her eyes out for spies.

“Oh whatever Adi, it’s fine for you, you get to eat normal food” Kit snapped, uncharacteristically irritable.

“What’s your problem? You don’t care about food!” She fired back as Kit glared down at his bowl of broth.

He paused for a moment, swirling the soup.

“…can’t go swimming until my stupid knee heals” The Nautolan Master pouted. “She’s got to the lifeguards at the fountains” he added darkly.

“Sorry Kit” Depa offered sympathetically. “Would you like some of my pudding?”

Kit looked at her dubiously.

“…it’s not sugar free, is it?” he asked.

Depa scowled and folded her arms.

“Of course it is” Mace answered for her smugly “If she eats any more sugar her teeth are going to fall out of her head” he pointed out.

Depa glared at him.

“At least I’ve looked at a vegetable in the last four years” she retorted smartly.

“Well excuse me if I didn’t have time for perfectly balanced-“

“Force I need a drink.” Obi-Wan signed cutting off the squabbling and shuffling his plate closer to Mace’s.

“I can’t, I’m on painkillers for the Stim withdrawal” Adi replied miserably.

A chorus of “same” came from at least half the table’s occupants.

“Shaak keep a look out”

“Fine fine just do it quickly!”

“There we go look just take my fork”

“yep got-“

“Oh gods abort! Abort!”

“Sithspit!”

Were he still around, Count Dooku would have been highly irritated that the level of fear he had been so long attempting to inspire in the Orders best and brightest, was finally instilled by the arrival of Master Healer Vokara Che.

The two Masters hastily shoved their plates of food back at each other, frantically picking up stray noodles and peas.

“Just act natural!”

The formidable Twi’lek Head Healer strode up to them, making no secret of the critical way she eyed their respective dinners with satisfaction.

“Good evening Masters” she bowed her respect to the council members.

The decidedly unenthusiastic replies she received did nothing to dim her polite smile as she rounded the table to Obi-Wan’s seat.

“Master Kenobi, I have your protein shake” she produced the cup of sludge from her robes “you appear to have left it in the council chambers” she explained cheerfully, putting it down in front of him.

Obi-Wan looked at it.

“Oh how silly of me. Thank you so very much for returning it to me” he said, sarcasm rolling off his words.

“Vokara, really” Adi tried for the diplomatic approach, aiming for the voice of reason “isn’t this all a bit much?”

Most of them winced as Master Che folder her arms, her eyes darkening as she took a deep calming breath.

“Absolutely not. I have told you all time and time again you pushed yourselves way too hard during the war, and by Force I am going to break four years of bad habits or die trying.” She declared venomously, before catching herself and taking a deep breath. “Now finish your meals please, especially you Kenobi, and then no more work this evening. Are we understood?”

Exasperated grumblings met her command, and she narrowed her eyes.

“I will knowif you access the servers or log on to the network, and Master Nu has officially barred you all from the archives.” She declared.

“What are we supposed to do?!” Shaak asked exasperated, murmurings of agreement behind her.

Vokara Che tilted her head, seeming to soften somewhat.

“Go for a walk, go to sleep, meditation, holovids, whatever you want.” She clasped her hands together. “The war is over, Masters, and you need to learn to operate at a new level and lower stakes. You’re not saving lives every single minute anymore” She stressed, and then paused, tone softening even more;

“I know it will be difficult, but I will be with you every step of the way. Along with your brothers and sisters and troops.” She promised.

She made eye contact with each of them in turn as she spoke.

“You have led the Order through an unprecedented time, and given so much to ensure our survival.”

Her eyes flickered to Mace’s cybernetic hand, Adi’s missing head tail, Obi-Wan’s walking stick and the dark patches on Shaak Tis montrals.

“But now is time for rest, and our focus must turn inward. We still need you, and you cannot continue these unsustainable and destructive habits.” She continued.

There was a beat of silence after her words, several of the table’s occupants shifting awkwardly before the healer smiled sweetly again.

“Oh and don’t forget Mind Healer appointments start tomorrow” she reminded them, “be there, or I will send initiates and cadets to find you” she threatened.

The groans her statement was met with was her outro, as she left the order’s leaders and the Galaxy’s protectors in peace, their biggest problem a nagging healer, and smiled genuinely to herself.

[anakinsthot]

I posted 2,175 times in 2022

That's 574 more posts than 2021!

53 posts created (2%)

2,122 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@sexysymphony

@ragnarlothcat

@tennessoui

@tomicaleto

@gffa

I tagged 2,159 of my posts in 2022

Only 1% of my posts had no tags

#obi wan kenobi - 1,005 posts

#anakin skywalker - 936 posts

#obikin - 569 posts

#nice art op - 156 posts

#ahsoka tano - 139 posts

#this is v cute!!! - 105 posts

#luke skywalker - 102 posts

#hayden christensen - 91 posts

#darth vader - 82 posts

#leia organa - 68 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#this is the good version of star wars that exists in my head where palpatine died and order 66 never happened and anakin never fell

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

I forgot to post this last night, chapter 9 of the bee fic is up!

12 notes - Posted April 11, 2022

#4

okay I would love to ask about your Wips that are being posted but I decided to wait for the updates instead and ask for 89.7 AU since the name makes me think of a radio station 👀

IT IS A RADIO STATION! It's named for the college radio station in my hometown :)

89.7 AU is a same age college fic. It starts with the school's radio station dj talking about relationships and having people call in. Anakin calls in, anonymously, to talk about the crush he has on his friend. Obi-Wan is listening and recognizes Anakin's voice, but is heartbroken because he thinks Anakin's talking about someone else and spends the next semester trying to figure out who.

Meanwhile, Anakin thinks Obi-Wan has figured out his crush and is trying to make him get over it by pushing him towards other people, since Obi-Wan keeps asking things like "met anyone nice lately?" and "isn't so and so cute?"

There's a lot of miscommunication, pining, and sulking on both sides, basically.

13 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

#3

BEE FIC UPDATE!

13 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

#2

New chapter for the bee fic! Anakin makes two important discoveries and one dubious decision.

16 notes - Posted February 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ooooh prompt #204 “You cancelled plans for me?” please ✨

This is doesn't need a read more does it? IDK how to do those.

(547 words)

The gallery is full. Anakin shouldn’t complain, really. People are interested in his art. He’s already been approached by three different people who want to buy a piece and it hasn’t even been an hour. This is what he’s been working for.

Only. It’s just strangers here.

And sure, his art is… niche. Most people have only a passing interest in the Jedi, a religious order that died out millennia ago. They aren’t that interested in what the Jedi Temple looked like. In what art forms the Jedi practiced, what painting techniques they perfected. His friends listen to him talk about the Jedi and nod along, but they aren’t really interested. It was probably too much to expect that they’d drop their plans on a Friday night when Anakin unexpectedly got his own gallery showing.

The show was very last minute – apparently the artist who was supposed to be displayed here this weekend had a last minute crisis of faith and burned all their art. Or something. Anakin didn’t really keep listening after he’d heard the initial offer.

It just would have been nice to have a friend here. Talking about his art to all of these strangers; smiling and nodding along when they tell him what their favorite piece is, describe their thoughts and theories on the ancient order, is frankly exhausting.

It would be nice to have someone that was just here for Anakin.

Anakin wanders from painting to painting, trying not to dwell on it. He stops in front of a watercolor of the Room of a Thousand Fountains – or his interpretation of what it looked like, at least. They don’t have much to go on. The Jedi temple exists only as ruins, these days, and only a handful of first person accounts detailing its various rooms and architecture remain.

He’s agonizing over some of the flower choices he’d made when a throat clears behind him.

“It’s lovely.”

He freezes. That sounds like – but no, it can’t be. Obi-Wan had plans tonight, just like everyone else. Ahsoka had roller derby practice. Rex was going on a date. Obi-Wan had business partners in town and was taking them to dinner.

The person behind him steps closer. A warm, solid hand reaches out and rests on Anakin’s shoulder. He stiffens underneath it. The weight is familiar, but Anakin convinces himself that he’s imagining things. He forces a polite smile onto his face before turning around.

“Thank y- Obi-Wan!”

Obi-Wan smiles and pulls Anakin into a hug. He tilts his face up, just slightly, to whisper into Anakin’s ear.

“It’s almost as lovely as you.”

Anakin can feel his cheeks heat up. He wraps his arms tighter around Obi-Wan and hides a grin in his auburn hair.

“You cancelled plans for me?”

Stepping back, Obi-Wan matches his grin. “Of course, darling. Windu and his associates will still be in town tomorrow. But you only have your first show opening once.” He reaches up and threads a hand through Anakin’s hair, pulling him down and whispering against his lips. “You’ll always be my first priority,” his says before closing the final half inch between them and kissing Anakin softly.

Anakin smiles against Obi-Wan’s lips and deepens the kiss, uncaring of the people surrounding him.

They’re just strangers, anyway.

32 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nevertheless-moving]

Suicidal Misunderstanding AU Part V (SW Time Travel AU #27)

Part I - - - - -  Part II - - - - - Part III - - - - - Part IV 

After a meandering walk through what felt like every path the hanging gardens and marsh pools had to offer, Obi-Wan stopped to lean against a stone wall. 

“Obi-Wan? Are you ready to stop and eat something? As nice as this has been, I’m getting hungry and I’m guessing you are too.” 

Anakin was only being a little sarcastic. It had genuinely been nice to peacefully spend the day with Obi-Wan like this- they hadn’t been to the marsh habitats since the war started. He had resigned himself to watching Obi-Wan enthusiastically greet every wandering knight, master, and elder who they passed. 

It was actually starting to become impressive- Anakin never realized how many members of the Order his Master was friendly with- no wonder he was given a seat on the high council! But after the last heartfelt clasping of hands with a completely unfamiliar Bothan (thankfully for Anakin’s petty jealousy, Obi-Wan wasn’t hugging everyone), Anakin had asked who the knight was.

Obi Wan frowned. “No idea. But I suppose I must have seen him somewhere.” 

Anakin was no longer feeling impressed.

When a group of crechelings wandered by, Obi-Wan appeared briefly overwhelmed with emotion. His shields (apparently even better drunken than sober) didn’t let anything specific slip. But he knew Obi-Wan was feeling something intensely. Bizarrely, instead of saying hello, Obi-Wan hurried out and away with Anakin dragged behind, bringing them back to the stone wall and their skipped breakfast.

“Not yet.” Obi-Wan responded hoarsely. “I want to visit the Room of A Thousand Fountains first, and say a few more goodbyes.”

“Goodbyes?” Anakin asked, a slight chill running down his back. “We’re not shipping back out until the end of the week. Do you always say goodbye to everyone this thoroughly before redeployment?”

“No. Do you think I should have?” Obi-Wan frowned. “I feel like that would have been more upsetting than anything else.”

“Ok then, why are you saying goodbye now? To the whole order?” 

Obi-Wan didn’t reply, he just pushed off the wall to continue on his quest to apparently visit every corner of the temple.

“Master, please, you’re worrying me. If you won’t eat, then let me take you to the Healing Halls so they can check you over for drugs. We can visit the fountains after.”

Obi-Wan finally paused, thinking that over. “I would like to see Bant. She should be there, right?”  

Bant did end up being there, and was more touched than disturbed by Obi-Wan’s sincere joy to see her. While Obi-Wan wandered the halls greeting injured Knights, she ran several tests.

“As far as I can tell, all you had last night was human-appropriate alcohol. No force-user specific drug interactions, and no traces of Spice. It’s possible there’s something I missed, but your force presence doesn’t feel off balance in the manner I specifically associate with drug-induced altered perception. Your blood sugar is a little low and you’re somewhat dehydrated, especially considering you’re in the temple, not out on a mission.”

“I’ll take care of my physical needs after I visit the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Just because a vision isn’t purely induced by the force doesn’t mean I can’t draw meaning from it. I do appreciate how you always looked out for me though, Bant. I’ve missed your fussing.” Obi-Wan smiled, clasping one of her hands in his.

Bant sighed, “If Master Yoda wasn’t off world I’d urge you to talk to him. I haven’t seen you this shaken by a vision since we were younglings. Even if you do seem to be handling it fairly... calmly.” 

Obi-Wan laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that someday. I might be wrong, but I think he’ll be happy to learn about-” Obi-Wan gestured around vaguely, “all this. I’ll talk to him at some point. I’m sure of it.” 

She glanced over at Anakin, who had been a quietly looming shadow the whole visit. He seemed both relieved by the diagnosis as well as bewildered. “Can I speak to you privately?”

Obi-Wan nodded and Anakin stalked out of the test room. 

She scrutinized him, worry more obvious now, “Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slipping tenses this whole time. You’re still not sure where your vision ends and reality begins, are you? Do you even know when you are?”

Obi-Wan looked down. “I know what’s real and what’s not. I’m just...enjoying not fully living in the moment. I have every intention of waking up.”

“Yeah, that’s a BIG red flag, Obi-Wan. Force.” She tilted her head back and forth, examining him with obvious concern. “I am scheduling an appointment for a soul healer and you are going to go, understand?” She demanded.

Obi-Wan agreed far too easily. She reluctantly let him leave with an earnest promise to eat something real.

Obi-Wan came outside to find Anakin pacing. 

“I’m glad you’re still here,” he told his former Padawan, ignoring the ache in his chest.

“Of course Ori’vod,” Anakin said, ducking his head with a shy smile. “What did Bant say?”

“She wants me to eat something real and visit a soul healer.” Obi-Wan sighed. “Well, I can do at least one of those things.”

“A soul healer! She thinks you’re crazy?” Anakin asked offended. 

“First of all, you don’t have to be unstable to visit a soul healer. I’ve seen them in the past, when there wasn’t as much wrong with me. I’m sorry if I led you to believe you couldn’t seek out help for your problems.” Obi-Wan said. Another mistake.

“I-I know that. I just thought, you know, Jedi can be judgmental of that sort of thing. A good Jedi is supposed to be able to just, meditate stuff away.” Anakin said bitterly.

Obi-Wan thought furiously. Was this why he had been so blindsided by Anakin’s fall? Had his padawan been so afraid of judgement that he hid all of the warning sides of his struggles with darkness? Maybe he could ask Owen for some sort of petty assistance when he brought over bantha milk next time, to demonstrate to young Luke that it was ok to ask for help. No, he was probably still too young for those sorts of lessons to have much meaning. The insight would require meditation, when he was more sober. 

Unsure how ‘Anakin’ would respond, Obi-Wan tentatively said, “You’re right, that some Jedi might judge for seeking such aid. But I think in the last years of the war, that sort of opinion became less and less common. After all, an ideal Jedi shouldn’t be leading an army. I don’t know if anyone can be perfect during war, let alone a peacekeeper.”

When that failed to garner positive or negative reply, Obi-Wan let out a breath. “It hardly matters, since I can’t exactly visit a therapist, let alone a soul healer, given my present living conditions.” 

Anakin seemed to process that, giving Obi-Wan a long, searching look. “What’s your next point?”

“Hmm?”

“You said first of all, and I think that was all one thing, so what’s your second point?”

“Not exactly being able to visit a soul healer regularly doesn’t count as a separate retort?”

“I guess? I’m just trying to understand what you’re trying to tell me” A twinge of frustration crept into Anakin’s otherwise level tone.

"I appreciate that, truly, and I regret the number of hurtful miscommunications that sprung up from me failing to do just that. Well, I suppose, by most reasonable standards, I am ‘crazy.’ Getting some help with unraveling my mind would probably be best, if it were an option, but it isn’t so...” Obi-Wan shrugged.

Before any followup questions could be asked, they finally arrived at the main entrance to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. The archway was stunning, water flowing upwards along the stone in intricate, shifting tessellations. When they stepped through, Obi-Wan was delighted to see Mace Windu sitting on a bench by the entrance. 

“Mace! I was hoping to see you.”

Mace looked at him. He seemed at first, to be utterly unsurprised by the duo’s arrival. But the longer he stared, the more visible shock overtook his features. “Master Koon recommended I look for you...force what happened.”

Obi-Wan just chuckled. “Oh you know. What didn’t happen.”

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked urgently. “What do you see, Master Windu?”

Obi-Wan tried to wave them both off, laugh a little more forced. “Please, I came here to relax. I’m sure it would be easier to say what’s not wrong with-”

“Kark it, Obi-Wan this isn’t a joking matter.” Master Windu’s voice was calm, but insistent. He slowly started approaching Obi-Wan as though the fellow council member were a feral loth-cat. 

“You look as if...nearly every shatter point around you has broken open. Force, I think you’ve been carrying some of these with you since you were a child. Usually when things that deep break...And some of these- some of these are too big to have just affected you.” Mace hesitantly reached forward, brushing against something invisible.

A chill ran down Anakin’s spine, again. What the kriff did Obi-Wan see in his vision? Last night he mentioned the temple burning, their rooms turned to ash, and Anakin had just...let that go in favor of greedily spending time with this addictively affectionate version of Obi-Wan.

“Mace...” Obi-Wan groaned. “I had been wondering what you might say to me but this is...please, can’t you just give me a hug and let me enjoy the peace for one more hour.”

“Master Kenobi,” Mace said, seeming to revert to an even more serious version of himself. “What I see cracked open around you is bigger than the reemergence of the Sith on Naboo, bigger than the first battle of Genosis. Whatever has happened, you cannot possibly keep it to yourself, practically or morally.”

To the shock of both Windu and Skywalker, Obi-Wan actually rolled his eyes at that. “Mace. You are not telling me anything I do not already know. And I am choosing to spend a little longer enjoying the unique joys of the Temple before dealing with the harshness of reality. Haven’t I earned a small break? I’m not abandoning my duty, but if I don’t take care of myself where I can I’ll go madder than I already have.” 

At no point did Obi-Wan’s voice get whiny or upset, he just calmly dropped a series of bombshells like he was repeating an argument.

Mace and Anakin exchanged glances, but if Mace was trying to communicate something, it was utterly lost on Anakin. 

“Alright, Master Kenobi. I trust your judgement.” 

And, to Anakin’s shock, Mace pulled Obi-Wan for a tight hug. “And I care about you, Obi-Wan.”

For a brief, hysterical moment, Anakin Skywalker wondered if he was about to witness his Master break down crying on the shoulder of Mace Windu the Master of the Jedi Order.

But Obi-Wan just let out a slow breath and returned the embrace before bowing deeply in Respect. Windu returned the bow with a placid expression. 

“If you’ll excuse me...I think I’d like to stand by the waterfall alone for a moment.” He paused, turning to address Anakin. “If you’re willing to wait for me, I’ll happily rejoin you by the glowing mushrooms.” Anakin nodded silently and Obi-Wan beamed before leaving the two alone together.

Mace turned to the young knight in a silent demand for answers, and, for once, Anakin was eager to share what he was dealing with. “He came back drunk last night, talking about the temple burning down, and being well-”

“Unusually emotionally expressive?” Mace offered.

Anakin nodded. “Took a blood sample to analyze in the morning. He woke determined to hug every sentient being in the temple. I actually managed to get him to the halls just before we came here; Master Eerin said there was nothing in his system and...I just don’t know. He’s been off today, but not in a bad way, exactly. Could a vision have caused the shattering you saw?

Mace furrowed his brow. “Not any vision like I’ve ever seen but...these are dark times. And Master Kenobi has had historically bad luck. If some new cataclysm is coming for us- I absolutely believe he’d be the first of us to stumble into it. Something terrible and extraordinary must have happened in the 24 hours since I last saw him in person.”

A beat passed.

“I should go to the mushrooms before I lose track of him,” Anakin said quietly.

Mace nodded. “Skywalker, if you need assistance dragging him back to the healers for whatever reason, comm me, understood?” 

“Understood. Master Koon said the same.” the Knight replied, heart pounding.

The Windu clasped him on the shoulder firmly, "I’m going to check in with Master Eerin. It’s possible she has some suspicions that my observations will help her confirm. Until then...”

“I’ll look out for him.” Anakin promised.

Part VI

[calltomuster]

war is a looming specter

[NOTE: this fic is set in the Service Animal Boga AU, where Obi-Wan was partnered with Boga the varactyl as a service animal after Melida/Daan.]

Anakin hadn’t heard from Obi-Wan in hours. He’d been sitting by Anakin’s bedside that morning, but when the summons had come through from the High Council, Obi-Wan had dutifully struggled to his feet, grabbed the side of Boga’s harness with his one remaining limb that was functioning properly at this point, and limped out of the room with a wry smile and a quip.

It had been a rough few days for both of them. The whole crisis on Geonosis – Obi-Wan getting captured and tortured by Dooku, Anakin and Padmé having to come to rescue him (and doing a great job in his considered opinion), being paraded in some death arena where it turns out hundreds of Jedi were undercover and they all fought for their lives, and finally a dual duel with Dooku that ended with Anakin losing an arm and Obi-Wan getting some pretty critical nerve damage to his left arm and leg. They’d both been stuck in the Halls since then, though Obi-Wan insisted that as long as he was remaining within the walls of the Halls of Healing it counted as not leaving, and spent most of his time staggering over to a chair by Anakin’s bed and collapsing there for a few hours.

But the rest of the galaxy could not put itself on pause just for healing, so when the High Council finally asked Obi-Wan to come give his report of what he’d seen on Kamino and Geonosis, there was no getting around it.

But that Council meeting had been hours ago – he’d left after breakfast and it was now the late afternoon, with still no word. Anakin had sent him a text a few hours ago and it had gone unanswered, as had the five others he’d sent since then. Their bond felt shuttered. Something was going on.

Anakin’s datapad dinged with an incoming notification. His heartbeat spiked as he picked it up, but instead of a reply from Obi-Wan it was an official missive from the High Council.

ANNOUNCEMENT REGARDING SENATE BILL TL-329.31, it read.

That sounded boring, Anakin thought. He wasn’t even sure what bill that was.

But as he skimmed through the long message, he grew more and more horrified. An army? A war?

Then he hit the second to last paragraph and his heart sank like a stone.

The Jedi High Council will form the ranks of High Generals and command system-wide armies. In addition, Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi has been specifically requested by the Chancellor to serve in this role, owing to his experience with wide-scale armed conflict.

Anakin did not waste a second longer. He threw off the blanket and staggered to his feet, awkwardly shrugging on a robe with one arm. He was mainly healed at this point – the miracles of bacta – but Vokara Che wanted him under observation for a little while; losing a limb was a major shock to the body. He felt that as he ran out of the Halls of Healing, ducking errant Healer Padawans and praying to the Force he wouldn’t run into Vokara Che herself, but he pushed through the ever-so-slight dizziness that came after being stuck in bed for a few days.

Obi-Wan needed him.

This had to have been why Obi-Wan hadn’t been responding. Anakin was so stupid, he should have known something was wrong, he should have suspected!

He ran through the hallways of the Jedi Temple in a daze, barely focusing on where he was putting his feet in favor of continuing the self-recrimination. He reached the door to his and Obi-Wan’s quarters in record time. They were right off of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, a special dispensation given in deference to Boga. It also meant their quarters were much bigger than normal humanoid Master/Padawan pairs got, which Anakin’s friends thought was unfair until they visited and realized just how much space Boga took up.

Anakin was praying that Boga was with his Master right then.

Thankfully, when the door hissed open, Anakin could tell that Obi-Wan and Boga were sitting in the living room. But he couldn’t tell much more than that; the space was dark, cave-like.

“Master?” Anakin asked, stepping inside. “Can I turn the lights on?”

Obi-Wan didn’t respond, but it was almost pitch-black in the room, so Anakin flicked the switch.

Boga was curled up in her favorite corner of the wide room, Obi-Wan sitting against her. She’d put her head in his lap and was rumbling in a deep, steady thrum. Obi-Wan had draped himself partially over Boga’s neck and buried his hands in her soft crest of feathers.

As Anakin walked further into the room, Boga’s eyes flashed open. He paused as she stared at him unblinking, a warning clearly passing between them. Then she huffed slightly and closed her eyes again, rumbling louder and nuzzling deeper against Obi-Wan.

Anakin shuffled to a stop next to them. “Obi-Wan. I just heard.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched slightly, then resumed its carefully even rhythm. He did not look up.

“Hey,” Anakin said softly, kneeling down. “Are you alright, Master?”

Obi-Wan raised his head and revealed his pale, blotchy face and red-rimmed eyes. “I – I can’t – I can’t do it again, I can’t–”

Boga let out a soft trill and raised her head to swipe her tongue down the side of Obi-Wan’s face, then curled her tail over him, almost hitting Anakin in the process.

“Take a deep breath,” Anakin said, demonstrating. “Deep breaths, Obi-Wan.”

[READ THE FULL FIC ON AO3]

[lilhawkeye3]

tea and lillies

Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano |||| Secret Santa gift for @hanjinart​ 💕

Rating: G |||| Word Count: 542 |||| Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Obi-Wan has been told he’s talented at many things. He’s been commended as a Master of Soresu, even at his young age. His silver tongue has convinced many warring worlds to seek peace. He’s the youngest member to be selected to the Council.

And yet, there’s one thing, one very mundane thing that Obi-Wan has been unable to do: keep a plant alive.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he didn’t end up in the AgriCorps, because Obi-Wan can’t even succeed with a single succulent.

He thought this was common knowledge throughout the temple by now. Obi-Wan Kenobi did not have a green thumb.

So pray tell, why had his two padawans decided to gift him a delicate, living plant as a Life Day present?

“Aw, come on, Obi-Wan! It’ll brighten up your room— it’s so bare in there,” Anakin commented with a smirk, knowing that if he kept goading, Obi-Wan would eventually give in.

Ahsoka bounced up on the balls of her feet. “Besides, we spent a long time researching what species to get you! This, it’s called a peace lily. We thought that it’d be perfect for you!”

“It is a rather pretty flower,” Obi-Wan muses as he lifts the pot from Anakin’s outstretched hands. There are three little white white flower bulbs stretching up out of the encircling leaves, one bigger than the others, and he can’t help but stroke its pale petals in interest.

“I… thank you, both of you, truly,” Obi-Wan stammered. “But I'm afraid I can't accept this, it’ll only die under my care.” He looked up at their faces and gave a wry smile. “Perhaps we can plant it in the Room of a Thousand Fountains Instead?”

Anakin and Ahsoka shared a grin that made Obi-Wan immediately suspicious. “No, Master, you misunderstand,” Anakin patiently explained, attempting to mimic Obi-Wan’s Coruscanti accent to his teasingly patronizing tone.

Ahsoka and Obi-Wan both cringed and rolled their eyes before she carried on. “It’s a two part gift,” she chirped. “Yes it’s just a plant, but it’s also a project for the three of us to work on together!”

Obi-Wan looked between his two padawans with barely contained emotions as they waited for some sort of response. “You did this to spend more time with me?” He asked softly, glancing between the pair.

“Well, yes, but that’s mainly the purpose for your second gift,” Anakin admitted.

What— he wasn’t able to finish as Ahsoka pushed a box that she’d been hiding behind her back into his line of sight. He recognized the tin immediately, as it was of his favorite brand: a blend he once found on Corellia. Knowing neither of them had been anywhere near that sector recently though, he furrowed his eyebrows in curiosity. 

“We got some help from Master Windu,” Ahsoka beamed proudly, “but it was Anakin’s idea.”

Obi-Wan could no longer stop his smile from spreading across his face as he moved forward to draw both of them into a tight hug, though taking great care to keep his grip on the peace lily’s pot. “Thank you very much, both of you. This… this means a lot to me.”

“You’re welcome, Master,” Ahsoka mumbled against his shoulder while Anakin chuckled lightly, “anything for you, Obi-Wan.”

[jasontoddiefor]

MTTT AU chapter 8: A Place - Room of a Thousand Fountains

Read on AO3

Anakin Skywalker had always been an energetic and vibrant child. He drew your attention whenever he was in the room, even when he was holding himself back. It was one of the reasons Plo had agreed so readily to send little Ahsoka Tano to him. His opinion didn’t count for much, but he was still her Finder and had spent quite a lot of time with her since she had been brought to the temple. She had the same kind of spirit as her Master, and with Ahsoka around, Anakin wouldn’t be able to let his own fire burn as much, burn out, or risk hurting her.

Plo was sure that Anakin would keep her safe, be a light that would guide her.

Even now, Anakin was almost painfully bright in the Force, but he was also hurting to a degree Plo had encountered not once before. Shadows and doubts were clinging to him, stifling him. Only ashes remained of the bonfire and, beneath that thick dead remnant, new saplings grew only slowly.

The pain they had felt in the temple after Skywalker’s arrival was had been intolerable even in its contained form. It should be no surprise that Anakin was still in such a bad condition, yet Plo was taken aback when he came face to face with him.

“Anakin,” he greeted the young man. Plo was the first Council member to arrive at their chosen meeting place, had he caught Ahsoka just the day before and listened to her worries. He had hurried to catch the young Knight on his own, gain insight into how he acted when he wasn’t questioned by the whole Council.

“Master Plo,” Anakin said and inclined his head towards him.

He moved to stand up, but Plo raised his hands to stop him. The action obviously caused him further pain and Plo was not going to add another weight to the many burdens the boy was already carrying.

“I will join you on the ground, Anakin,” Plo said and sat down right next to Anakin.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had simply taken a few moments to rest in the Room of a Thousand Fountains. He knew it certainly hadn’t been since the war had broken out. Plo decided to follow Anakin’s example and took off his shoes. Feeling the grass beneath his feet was soothing; did it remind him of more peaceful times. In the distance, he could hear some younglings playing, and the water of one of the many rivers and waterfalls in these halls rush downwards.

This was certainly a calmer and a kinder place to meet than the Council chambers. Plo could understand why Anakin had asked to assemble here instead of the Council room.

Not that Anakin had asked.

Obi-Wan had directed the Council to this place, the very heart of their temple and the place the furthest away from the busy world outside.

If the report Anakin was to deliver was really as earth-shattering as Obi-Wan words had alluded to, it was probably for the best.

He still wasn’t ready to believe the bits of information Obi-Wan had let slip. Perhaps Plo was clinging to the fickle hope that Anakin’s revelations would clear them up, reveal that they hadn’t allowed a Sith Lord to gain control of the entire Republic.

Plo knew that Obi-Wan had no reason to lie, but hope always died last.

Glancing towards his left, Plo found Obi-Wan was standing in some distance, typing away on his datapad. Plo wasn’t fooled for even a second. He had raised more than one Padawan and he knew that Obi-Wan’s attention was entirely on his student.

It was as adorable as it was reassuring, even if the price for their closeness was high. Over a decade ago, the Council hadn’t been quite sure what they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin would become. When they had let the young Knight take on the boy, it had been accompanied by many worries over their mental health, but the two of them had surprised everyone positively. They had grown up to bring out the best in each other, so much that Kenobi-and-Skywalker was a set expression in everyone’s mouth.

Even now, when both were hurting so obviously, they were holding onto one another.

“Ahsoka has learned well from you,” Plo said. He thought it would be for the best if he tried to ease Anakin into a conversation. Ahsoka seemed like a safe topic to start with, especially given how devoted she was to her Master. Seldom had Plo seen a Master and Padawan pair become attuned to each other so quickly.

Then again, most of the training bonds weren’t forged during wartime.

“She is strong and capable,” Anakin replied, avoiding Plo’s gaze and keeping his own fixed on something in the distance. “I don’t think I taught her anything she couldn’t have figured out on her own.”

“Little ‘Soka was always a smart one, if a bit of a wild card,” Plo agreed.

It was the reason Plo hadn’t picked her to be his Padawan though he currently didn’t have one. Ahsoka deserved a Master who was more similar to her. With Kenobi keeping oversight of them both, she and Anakin had seemed like a good fit.

“She deserves better.”

Anakin sounded so similar to the Obi-Wan from ten years ago that Plo wished he could let the lost young man from back then meet this one now, show them both how far they could go despite insecurities.

“Every Padawan does. A teacher can never be good enough. This is why we have to try.”

“But I wasn’t good enough,” Anakin stated matter-of-factly. “She-“He shut up immediately, mouth pressed in a thin line, as if only now noticing what secrets were escaping him. The Force around them shifted, cradling Anakin like a child and making it seem like he wasn’t quite there, but more a blurry image.

Plo debated pushing, learning what he wanted to keep quiet about, what had happened to little ‘Soka in that vision of his. He couldn’t imagine, didn’t want to imagine anything happening to the sweet girl who had clung to his robes with wide eyes and excitedly babbled to him in the language of her people.

“Ahsoka is very worried about you,” Plo decided to say instead, take their conversation in a different direction. “Apparently, she is quite vexed that you won’t spar with her anymore.”

If Skywalker had tried to fade into the background before, now he was positively trying to disappear in it entirely. What happened that had made him fear every possible topic Plo could bring up? The silence between them was almost oppressive, heavy on their shoulders. Plo decided to stay silent, give Anakin time to come out of his shell again. He didn’t know who much time passed until the heavy feeling lifted and he began to speak.

“I- I forgot how beautiful it is in here.” Anakin curled his toes and spread his fingers so that the grass could get in between them. “I didn’t visit this place in years. I don’t know if it was still standing.”

“That is quite a shame,” Plo commented. “We could take another look around if you feel capable of walking.”

Anakin looked up from the ground, eyeing Plo with confusion and suspicion.

“The others won’t be here for a while,” Plo elaborated. “It would be unwise to let the time go to waste, wouldn’t it? I was told that one of the youngling clans remodeled one of the gardens. I think we have the time to look at it and pass our congratulations on to them.”

Anakin looked torn between desire and fear. Like a child, he looked back to Obi-Wan, who, indeed as Plo had predicted, had been paying close attention to the conversation and was now staring at them. When Obi-Wan nodded, Anakin hesitantly bit his lip. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I wouldn’t offer it otherwise, Anakin.” Plo rose to his feet and held out his hand.

Tellingly, Anakin took it with his flesh hand. He held onto it perhaps for a moment longer than necessary, but then he let go and buried his hands in the sleeves of his robe, hiding them and their trembling away.

“I believe the youngling garden is a level up. Is there any place you’d like to see on your way there?”

Anakin didn’t reply at first, then he turned to look towards the right. Plo had never been the most knowledgeable about the room, preferring to spend his time with mathematics and not plants, but Anakin knew exactly what laid there.

“The yellow gardens,” he finally replied. “I’d like to see the yellow gardens.”

Plo nodded and then, with Anakin by his side, still barefoot leaving their shoes behind, they walked into the direction of the garden. Plo kept his eyes closely on Anakin the entire time, observing his reaction to the Jedi passing them; they had agreed for a meeting here for a reason after all. There weren’t many people passing them, but they crossed paths with another once in a while, though they never noticed Anakin. Perhaps his idea of wrapping himself up in the Force indeed had merit. Plo wondered whether he had learned that during the war, folding himself so much into his surroundings that he was overlooked unless he wanted to be seen. It was definitely a clever trick.

When they reached the yellow gardens, Anakin ore or less walked past all the bushes and trees without paying them any mind, straight up until he reached the very end where yellow flowers grew in small bushes.

Anakin crouched down in front of them and so very carefully traced over the petals with his fingers.

“Are they your favorite?” Plo asked.

Anakin shook his head. “No, my favorite was- there is a flower I inherited from Qui-Gon. It should bloom in a few months. These flowers are from Naboo. I hate- dislike them.”

Anakin fell silent again, still not looking away from the delicate flowers.

“What do they mean?”

“Grief,” Anakin replied, “for a life lost too early.”

The way Anakin spoke about it, Plo could feel the Force around them start to weep. It wasn’t just grief for a life lost, but Anakin’s grief. It was thick and palpable, so thick in the air, you could almost choke on it. With Anakin’s back turned to him, Plo gently raised a hand to his throat, wondering if there was a malfunction in his mask. Calming himself, he gently reached out himself, running warm fingers over old wounds torn open again.

“I will fix it,” Anakin spoke up suddenly. “I promise you that. I won’t let it happen again. You will all be safe.”

You will all be alive.

Anakin didn’t have to say it, but Plo heard it anyway.

It was, at that moment, all the confirmation that he needed. The broken bits of Obi-Wan’s statement had all been true after all and the future, even if it was one just envisioned, had been darker than all periods of the past.

“We shall do the same,” Plo promised as Anakin stood up again.

As they walked back to the meeting point, Plo quietly tried to think of who was currently on Senate duty, and how quickly he could let them know that the Chancellor was to be considered a threat.

And how much longer they could refuse Palpatine’s inquiries to talking to Anakin.

[rentsturner]

A Clean Break | Obi-Wan Kenobi

Summary: Obi Wan invites you to the gardens in the dead of night, he has something to tell you. Cue the feelings.

Warnings: Angst. So much angst. Mentions of sex.

Word count: 1.8k

a/n: I hope you enjoy this, pls tell me what you think!!

(not my gif)

The Jedi gardens were quiet. Silent, even. The dead of night had slowly crept in, darkness chasing away the warm and peaceful bustle of the day. Moonlight cast shadows across the serene space, shapes of strong branches and curving stems dark against the paved pathways. Some light filtered into your hidden corner of the garden, brightening the dim space with an eerie glow. Usually, you would find the moonlight pleasant, comforting even, but tonight it only helped to churn the nerves in your stomach, as Obi-Wan’s stoic expression was illuminated. 

You were worried. Obi was quiet. Suspiciously quiet. This wasn’t unusual - Obi was generally quite placid around you, calm in your presence. You used each other as an escape from the chaos of battle and politics that plagued your lives as padawans. But Obi had been especially subdued since Qui-Gon’s death just over a week ago. It’s understandable really. You knew he partly blamed himself for the murder. He needed time to grieve the loss of his master and the time the council had given him was just not enough. This was Obi-Wan’s last night as a padawan. He would be made a Jedi Knight in the morning and take Anakin on as his apprentice, just as he had promised Qui-Gon.

You remembered how he had rushed into your quarters a few nights ago, making sure you were the first to know the news, his face stretched into a grin as he embraced you happily. Seemingly, the happiest he had been in days.

But the glimmer of sadness and guilt in his cerulean eyes was unmissable, pain and regret unmistakable in the tremor in his hands as they moved over your body when he gave himself to you that night. 

He needed time to grieve.

But it was still unnerving now, the way Obi seemed like he was in a completely different world. He had told you to meet him here tonight, at your secret spot that you had used to hide from prying eyes for years. This little alcove held so many memories for you, right from the start of your relationship until more recent times. But now that you were both here sitting opposite each other, the conversation that once flowed so easily was gone, replaced by a stifling silence. You hated it. Only days ago, everything had seemed fine. But now something was wrong.

Obi had obviously brought you here for a reason. You tried to search his face, looking for answers, but he was so hard to read. The furrowed brows, unkempt hair, a restless hand running over a few days’ stubble - a stark contrast to the happy, cheeky boyfriend that lit up your world every day. 

His eyes darted around the dark garden as if searching for something to look at, anything other than you. He was nervous maybe. His hands fidgeted, plucking daisies from the ground and picking the petals from them. His fingers would lunge forwards sporadically, then quickly retreat back, almost as if he wanted to envelope your palms in his but had to stop himself. He hadn’t looked you in the eyes once. He was hiding something.

“Obi.”

His head jerked up, surprised at the break in the silence.

“What is it? Why did you bring me here?” you asked softly.

Obi glanced away. Do it now! his mind screamed. Just say it!

A clean break, that’s what he’d been telling himself the past few days, slowly working himself up to this moment. This moment that he was dreading with every fibre of his being. The moment he had to let you go.

Your thoughts were running wild, trying to think of any possible explanation for Obi’s behaviour. With every passing second, your heart filled with dread, a sense of foreboding overwhelming you.

‘Obi, I’m worried. What is it?’ 

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He had to say it, he had to get it out. He didn’t want to prolong your suffering, no, Obi never wanted to see you hurt. It had to be quick, like ripping off a band-aid.

A clean break. 

‘I- I have to tell you something.’

He tried to speak, to let that dreaded sentence pull your whole relationship down in one fell swoop, but nothing came out. The words were there, spinning in his mind and bubbling in his throat, yet the only thing that escaped Obi’s mouth was a choked sob. 

Memories of the times you had shared flashed through his mind. Hours spent laughing in the sun when you both had a day off duty. Bare legs tangled together as you lay in his bed, whispered ‘I love you’s’ and tender kisses. Braiding each other’s hair with daisies and roses, here in this very spot, your hidden corner of the gardens. 

Obi’s anguish only intensified. He didn’t want to do this. But he had to. Deep breath in, deep breath out.

‘We can’t be together anymore’ 

Those dreaded words. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Deep down you had known this was coming. Two Jedi in love? It was prohibited by the code, frowned upon and warned against. But you hadn’t expected the fall to come so soon.

A wave of sadness rose up through your body, threatening to overcome all your senses and engulf you in sorrow, but you pushed it back down with your last remaining strength. You could still stop this. 

‘Obi, we can get through this, I know we can. We’ve survived for this long, haven’t we?’

You searched his face for something, anything to show you that he was still there. Your hand moved forwards to clasp his and for a moment, just a moment, his fingers gently squeezed back, your palms fitting together like they always had done. 

Then Obi’s head shook almost imperceptibly and he pulled his hand away. The moon was covered by a passing cloud and your alcove fell into darkness. A sudden chill forces its way through your robes and you shiver.

‘I can’t let anything cloud my judgement now. I have Anakin to protect.’ Obi’s voice is raised slightly, whether it’s in anger or pain you don’t know.

‘I’m sorry, my lo-‘ he stops himself. ‘I’m sorry.’ 

Despite his firm tone, you can see the glimmer of guilt in his eyes, how his heart is breaking with every word that leaves his mouth. 

Obi tries not to think about how, with every passing second, he’s moving inevitably closer to the moment you’ll leave, and he’ll be left alone.

A clean break! The voice in his head continues to taunt him. But he can’t help himself.

His arms are thrown around you suddenly, grabbing your cloak with shaking hands, and his face is buried in your hair. You can feel his tears, warm on your skin.

He’ll allow himself this, one last moment. Something to remember you by.

Obi’s body trembles, wracked with sobs, but his cries are muffled by your hair.

You wrap your arms around him, pulling him impossibly closer and you try to will away your growing confusion. Your fingers grasp at his robes, trying to ground him, trying to let him know that it’s okay.

Maybe he didn’t mean it. He’ll say he’s sorry now and this silly nightmare will be over. You can tell him that it will all be fine. You live happily ever after. 

The sobs recede. 

It’s quiet again, the silence occasionally punctuated by a ragged breath clawed from Obi’s chest as he calms himself. You can hear the faint trickle of a fountain from across the garden and it calms you a little. Everything will be fine.

The sky is empty now, dark clouds chased away by the wind and the moon shines down undisturbed. 

Obi pulls back from your neck slowly and you look up to smile at him and run your fingers through his hair comfortingly, as lovers do. 

But your heart breaks at the sight of his face. 

His expression has hardened, gaze steely, no sign of any emotion in his blue eyes. 

In that moment you knew that your Obi was gone. His walls were up now, vulnerability locked away securely and pushed deep down. Where his force signature had once been a strong beacon of warm yellow in your mind, there was now only a distant blue link. It felt clinical, like Obi had taken your bond, your relationship, and severed it neatly with a scalpel. 

You knew that Obi had been hurt and now, naturally, he was trying to protect himself. And even more than that, he wanted to protect you. Just as honourable as ever.

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was calm now, sincere, but curt. ‘You’re better off without me. I wish you all the best, you’ll make an incredible Jedi one day.’ A polite smile. Always the gentleman, Obi Wan Kenobi.

You let the sadness swallow you now and the tears ran freely. You fled. The garden held no fond memories for you now, only sorrow and pain. 

Obi watched as you turned and ran back to your quarters, leaving him for the final time. Inside, his heart was shattering into millions of pieces, but he couldn’t show it. He couldn’t cry and run. 

Obi loved you. He loved you more than anything and that was the problem. Qui-Gon had warned him about what would happen if he grew too attached, but that was in another time, another life, back when Obi had been young and naive. He hadn't listened. He hadn't cared.

But now Qui-Gon was dead. And he was different. Obi Wan pushed the lingering memories away. Even entertaining the thought of them would send him spiralling into more pain. The guilt, the regret, it already ached in his limbs and filled his chest, weighing him down. He couldn’t imagine what anymore anguish would feel like. He would crumble.

But Obi had a feeling that he would never be free of the pain.

You’ve done the right thing, Obi thought to himself. You will learn to live with the pain, just as you will learn to live with the guilt. 

Tomorrow he would no longer be a padawan. He would become a man, a Jedi Knight. And he must follow the code. There would be no more tragedies if he just followed the code.

And so Obi Wan sat, seemingly peaceful on the outside, broken on the inside, in the dead silence of the garden that was once your special place, trying not to think about the life he could have had with you, the memories he could have made.

He couldn’t afford any more distractions. A clean break.

{tags: @doublesunsets​ @afogocado​ @corellians-only​ @stardancerluv​ @rosionis​ @kuailiangs @kaminobiwan​  @snips-n-skyguy0501 @crazycatladyjenga - please tell me if you do/don’t want to be tagged}

[humandisasterskywalker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Pre-Relationship, Whump, Angst, No Beta We Die Like Clones, alternative universe - different masters, Miscommunication Series: Part 5 of Whumptober 2021 Summary:

Whumptober 2021

Day 5 - I'VE GOT RED IN MY LEDGER

betrayal & misunderstanding & broken nose

“What was it you said about him. That he was a ‘nuisance that trailed around your Master like a lost Tooka.’ That you’d ‘drop him back off on Tatooine if you could’. Don’t worry Obi Wan I’m sure all of us would be resentful about your Master’s supposed chosen one if we were in your position.”

“I’m just gonna go,” said a small voice.

Of Course Obi Wan had resented Anakin at the start. His Master had tried to throw away their new bond to take on Anakin instead. But he'd grown on him over the years. They had grown close. Not that Obi Wan had told his other friends that.

.

.

.

Obi Wan was sure he would never enjoy being in the council chambers. As an initiate when he feared not getting a master at all they were a place of potential failure. A place where his dreams could die. Where he would be rejected.

When he was a Padawan those very fears had become true within this chamber. His Master had been willing to throw away their new bond for the nine-year-old slave boy they had found on a mission to Tatooine. The council had rejected the move, reminding Qui-Gon Jinn of the responsibilities he had undertaken when accepting Obi Wan as a Padawan but he had never forgotten the feeling of rejection. Of his despair when he felt he was being cast aside.

“By the right of the Council, by the will of the Force, Knight Kenobi, you may rise."

A  Lightsaber flared and with a swing, his Padawan braid fell to the floor.

Obi Wan reached forward, picking up the braid before standing. The council was arrayed around him. They were smiling, Master Yoda in particular looked pleased, almost smug. As if some sort of plan had been seen to fruition.

Qui-Gon was stood in front of him, looking uncharacteristically emotional. Obi Wan smiled at him before presenting him with the braid. As difficult as the early years of their apprenticeship had been, as much as their relationship had never truly been repaired from that mission he could not help but appreciate that his Master had stuck with him ever since. That he had fulfilled his promise. That he had seen him through to Knighthood.

“You may go Knight Kenobi.” Master Windu said with a knowing smile. “I can sense your friends are already outside ready to celebrate.”

Obi Wan bowed to the council before turning and leaving the chamber.

As suggested there was a crowd of Senior Padawans and young Knights waiting just outside the door.

“I can’t believe you’ve done it!” Bant squealed, throwing her arms around him.

Obi Wan raised his eyebrows. “Did you have that little faith in me going into the trials?”

She pulled back, hitting him in the arm. “I didn’t mean it like that and you know it!”

Obi Wans face broke into a smile.

“I only meant that you’ve been self-deprecating ever since you became a Padawan and I am over the moon that you have finally proved yourself wrong.”

“You have subjected us to multiple monologues about how you were never going to be good enough to be a Knight” Greef agreed ruffling Obi Wans hair. “It did seem that you were you’re own worst enemy. None of us ever thought you’d have a problem, you always worked harder than any of us did.”

“Speak for yourself!” Bant laughed. “None of you have to spend hours on the wards in the Hall of Healers.”

Greef grinned at her “I apologise greatly Bant, please ensure that I still receive top notch treatment when I am dragged in after a mission.”

“You would be better off not having to come into the chambers at all.” She retorted.

Quinlan threw an arm around his shoulders. “Where are we going to celebrate then. I owe you revenge after the state you got me into after my Knighting.”

“I think you only have yourself to blame their Quin, no one said you had to do shots of all the spirits in that bar.” Obi Wan laughed.

“You issued it as a challenge. I do not say no to challenges.” Quinlan said his arm tightening around Obi Wans neck.

“And that challenge,” Bant interjected “Resulted in all of us back in the temple within hours with both of you making acquaintances with the fresher floor. Can’t we have a slightly quieter one this time?”

“Never! Quinlan crowed before tilting his head considering, “But then again, if we stayed out longer it might be possible to see what happens when you get beyond a couple of drinks Bant. No, I’ve changed my mind. We’ll do it your way.”

Obi Wan smiled as they began to bicker. It had been too long since they had all been at the Temple together. He had missed it.

“Congratulations are in order I hear.”

Obi Wan winced, turning towards Bruck Chun.

“Thank you Bruck”

“You must be very happy, not to have to put up with that brat from Tatooine trailing after you anymore. You can get away from him now that your not with a Master that cares more about him than you.”

“Piss off Bruck!” Greef growled.

“What, I’m just saying I’m impressed. It must be difficult to get knighted when your Master is more interested in someone else's apprentice.”

He smirked.

“What was it you said about him. That he was a ‘nuisance that trailed around your Master like a lost Tooka.’ That you’d ‘drop him back off on Tatooine if you could’. Don’t worry Obi Wan I’m sure all of us would be resentful about your Master’s supposed chosen one if we were in your position.”

Obi Wans friends had gone quiet. Grey-faced.

“What Obi Wan, not willing to remember everything you complained about him. How you wished he was never found and was left in slavery.”

“I never said that!” Obi Wan snapped. “Yes I said I resented him, yes I said complained. I may have wished we never went to Tatooine and that I never met him, but I never wished he was still a Slave.”

Bruck looked triumphant.

“Obi-“ Bant sounded pained.

“I’m just gonna go.” Said a small voice.

Obi Wan whirled round. Anakin was standing off to the side, he hadn’t noticed him after he left the chamber, mobbed as he’d been by all his former creche-mates. Anakin's face was carefully blank. Obi Wan had never seen him display fewer emotions. Obi Wan could normally read him like a book, but now he couldn’t tell anything. It was like Anakin was shutting down.

He turned to leave, slipping behind the crowd and walking down the corridor.

“Anakin, Ani wait!”

Obi Wan pushed through the crowd, Brucks voice echoing behind him.

“Looks like you’ve managed to ruin another relation there Obi, what is it with you being unable to maintain any sort of connection.

“You absolute dick!” Quinlan shouted jumping at him.

Obi Wan ignored the sound of the scuffle, trying to chase down Anakin.

He had walked quickly, the door on the turbo-lift already closing. Obi Wan caught sight of his face before the door closed. It was like a knife being driven into his heart. Anakin had never looked that upset before, even in the early days when he was homesick. And it was all because of him.

Anakin was nothing if not predictable, and had a small list of places he tended to go when upset, so Obi-Wan had assumed he would be able to find him quickly.

He was wrong, Anakin wasn’t in his quarters and Master Koon had not seen him. He wasn’t in the quarters he shared, well used to share with Qui-Gon. He wasn’t in the Speeder or Starfighter hangers. He wasn’t in the mechanics' office. He wasn’t in the small area in the basement where the Temple kept their mouse droids.

He couldn’t find him.

Obi Wan let his feet take him towards the Room of a Thousand fountains. Anakin wouldn’t be there, he had always hated meditation. That was one of the things he used to complain about. When Anakin had first come to the Temple he used to disrupt Obi Wans attempts to meditate all the time, but over the years he had grown almost fond of the disruption. He expected it. Not that he’d ever told anyone.

He headed towards his favoured spot, an area near one of the waterfalls.

It was already filled.

Anakin sat with his back to him. He was sat in a meditative position but Obi Wan knew he wasn’t meditating. His body was vibrating with repressed tension.

“Was it true?” Anakin said without turning to him. “Was what Brock said true, did you say those things about me?”

Obi Wan sighed. He sat next to Anakin, staring into the water.

“No… It wasn’t… That. That is not how I said it!”

Anakin closed his eyes before nodding.

“So that's a yes.”

Obi Wan felt constricted as if he could barely breathe. He felt like something was collapsing, that he was losing something significant. A bond that he had never truly accepted, but was now being ripped away from him.

“Anakin it was years ago.” He said frantically, “When you first came to the temple. I was hurt from what my Master said and I took it out on you to my friends. It wasn’t true!”

“I thought you were a superhero.” Anakin said dully, “I worshipped you. I thought you were the ideal Jedi, the role model for me to aim for. You were the one person here who I knew. The one friend I had. And all that time you were complaining about me. Laughing about me to your friends. Resenting me.”

He looked at Obi Wan. For the first time, he saw the passion that Anakin was so often caught up in directed at him. It wasn’t just sadness it was deep anger.

“Was I truly that oblivious? That the whole time I spent following you, trying to get a small part of your attention you were hating me. That you didn’t want me around. That I was making your life worse.”

“Anakin-“

“You could have told me to back off. I would have done it. I would have done anything you asked me to.”

“You can’t mean that.” Obi Wan said desperately.

“I do,” Anakin said with such surety. Like it was something that had never been questioned. That it was a simple fact in his life. “Well, I would have done, before.”

Obi Wan couldn’t accept it. This couldn’t be true, he had to find a reason why this wasn’t true.

“Anakin you were only nine when you came here, surely you can’t commit yourself so sure when you're that young.”

“Why Not? Clearly, you committed yourself to how much you resented me. You never told Bruck otherwise”

“Come on Anakin, I was thirteen years old being bothered by someone four years younger than me that would never shut up. How was I not supposed to be resentful!”

Obi Wan regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. They were harsh, not at all what he meant. Why couldn’t he talk to Anakin? Why could he only hurt him?

He wasn’t shocked when the first connected with his nose. He would have done it to himself if he was able.

Anakin left, storming out of the room shaking his fist.

Obi Wan stayed sat, holding his nose to stop the bleeding. He felt bereft. Like something had been irreparably broken.

This had supposed to be the best day of his life. The day that he finally achieved all the dreams he had ever hoped for. But it no longer felt like it.

He felt adrift. It was far too quiet. He felt desperately alone. And the worst thing was, he knew it was entirely his fault.

[redhoodfucker69]

Baby Tal'ika: Mace takes one look at this kid and kisses any peace goodbye

ohohohohoho let’s have some fun with this. I think it’s gonna be long, so I’m putting in a break

-----------

It took a grand total of three seconds for Mace to come to the conclusion that this was his future padawan, and another three seconds for him to come to the conclusion that he was never going to know another moment’s peace in his entire life. Really, it wasn’t hard. The tiny initiate was somewhere between adorable, achingly sad, angry, lonely, scared, and something else Mace had rarely, if ever, seen on a child their age: resigned.

They were resigned, and he could see it in their eyes.

They were also like a dying star in the Force, and already knew how to trick the perceptions of sentients to pass unnoticed and unseen, which brought him to the question of why someone had taught them that at an age when that was the last thing you wanted a youngling who was not supposed to go missing to know.

Mace felt a lot of things when he looked down at one Tal’ika Fox-Kenobi, and not all of them were positive, but they were all very, very sure. Confident. Aching, in their own way.

And the child just looked at him, set their stubborn jaw, and flopped down on the grass of the Room of One Thousand Fountains before reaching up with one tan hand to grasp his own.

“I want to meditate,” they announced, and Mace felt something in his heart ache, because what child their age wanted to meditate?

“Alright,” he agreed, and sat down with them. “But can we speak first?”

They were old, but they had also been raised by a Jedi. And apparently a whole cluster of clones, but that was neither here nor there. So, realistically, they were a youngling, and didn’t need to be initiated into the Jedi, but they also needed to be verified. For a lot of reasons. The way Qui-Gon had brought Anakin into the temple had been a hot mess, ignoring a variety of regulations that were in place to protect a prospective initiate, spouting off about prophecies and things that a child shouldn’t have to worry about, but Anakin had been a lot of things. And Tal’ika had been a lot of things, too. He wasn’t going to do this in the council chambers, which were big and terrifying for someone so young. No, the fountains were a far safer place, far more secure and less scary.

“Yes,” Tal’ika replied, but they hadn’t let go of his hand. Raised by clones, indeed. They were probably used to contact, and constant contact, at that.

“Alright,” he said slowly, and let his big hand lay out on his knee so they could trace over the lines in his palm and pick at his calluses. “You can’t answer wrong, so just be honest with me, and I will be honest with you. Is that fair?”

Tal’ika paused, tilting their head in consideration as they looked for loopholes in that statement, before they nodded, firm and sure.

“Yes. That’s fair,” they decided, firmly, with confidence that made his heart sing. This was a child that was young, and well adjusted, and well loved, for all the turmoil he sensed in them.

“Thank you,” he said seriously, because he always made a habit to thank young ones. “Can I ask you about where you’re from?”

“A ship,” they replied. “The last one blew up, so Cody called help, so we’ve been on the Havoc Marauder.”

Okay, that was concerning. Mace knew that name. No wonder Tal’ika already bit three people. He couldn’t even blame them.

“Not on a star destroyer?” He hedged out, and they scrunched up their nose as they turned his hand over to trace the curves of his fingers.

“Why would I be on a star destroyer? Plo saved me from the Empire, why would I be back with them?”

The what now?

“Why did he save you?” He asked, and they looked up at him like he was stupid.

“Because they killed people like me,” they replied, like it was obvious. “They killed you.”

“I see,” he said seriously, as something uncomfortable settled in his gut. “How did they manage that?”

“You tried to arrest the Emperor, and then he killed the whole council and the Order and threw you out a window,” they replied and frowned. “You don’t take care of your cuticles, Master Windu. That’s not healthy. Plo makes a good cream for cuticles.”

“I’ll be sure to ask him for it,” Mace promised, because Plo did make good cuticle cream, and was constantly harassing Mace in that polite way about how he kept leaving his cuticles cracked and bleeding, and that was a bit easier to focus on than the whole Order being killed. “How long ago was that?”

“Uh... thirteen years? I think? I wasn’t born yet. There’s chips in my bavodu’e’s heads, and they had to kill you. Plo likes to kidnap them so he can take them out. He even taught me how! It’s fun. Better than staying on the ship, anyways,” they responded and rubbed at his cuticles with a little furrow in their brow. “Your cuticles are a mess.”

“My apologies. I’ve been too busy to take care of my cuticles,” Mace said, because they were really liking to circle back to the cuticles. Chips? What on earth? “Tell me about how you’ve been living.”

“We have to travel around a lot, on account of me and the bavodu’e being Impir-icle property that stole ourselves,” Tal’ika responded and shifted their little fingers to start pushing back the offending cuticles. “And Plo is supposed to be dead, so they’re pretty mad about that. He’s very proud that he keeps making them mad. He won’t say it, of course, but he’s very proud.”

“Who do you live with?” Mace prompted, and Tal’ika sneezed. He didn’t even flinch at the flying bits of snot that splattered his hand. They had at least tried to do it into their arm, and they wiped his skin off with their sleeve before going right back to getting his cuticles presentable.

“Uh... Right now, we have Plo, Wolffe, Sinker, Cody, Rex, and we just kidnapped Gregor. Oh! And the Bad Batch. Echo is teaching me how to slice, and Hunter gave me a knife, and Crosshair taught me how to make a headshot. Cody was upset about that. Actually, Cody is upset about everything everyone is doing, because the Bad Batch are ‘gremlins’ and are making me ‘too feral and competentent’. Neyo just left, to join the Rebellion, and he took Thire with him, because Thire keeps getting sad about me, and Neyo didn’t want him to be alone. I think I made him sad, too. But they might be sad because Bly just marched on. He didn’t do well when we took the chip out and got sick. I mean, not sick like when I get a tummy ache, but sick like he didn’t want to get out of bed and just stared at the wall all day. He wasn’t doing well, and then he was gone, and Neyo was trying to take care of him, but Rex said sometimes other people aren’t enough to make you better.”

Mace knew Commander Bly, and the casual hints being dropped that Tal’ika didn’t fully understand was making his stomach sink in his gut. Empire, Order dead, chips that made the clones kill their Jedi, Plo kidnapping clones to take the chips out... It painted a morbid picture for Bly, and a morbid one for Aayla, and he wasn’t certain he wanted to confront the picture in the presence of a child.

“Sometimes people aren’t enough,” he agreed, as careful as he could manage, and Tal’ika looked at him with the big amber eyes he’d seen a million times.

“Is that why Plo is sad?”

“... Yes. That’s why Plo is sad,” because even now Plo was sad, and Mace hated to see it. He couldn’t imagine how Plo would be in the aftermath of a very morbid future Tal’ika was painting. “Can you tell me how Plo is teaching you?”

“Everyone teaches me,” Tal’ika replied dismissively, and went back to pushing back his cuticles. “But Plo and I do meditation in the morning. And before bed. It’s a little hard, with how everyone is sleeping on top of each other right now. Not much room. Lots of people. I have to share a bed with Echo and Tech, cause we’re the smallest. We do a lot of exercises, and he teaches me things.”

“Like how you hide,” Mace supplied, and they nodded firmly.

“Yeah. And the Code, but they also teach me the Resol’nare. Plo lets them, though, so long as I understand how to follow the Code.”

It would seem that in the aftermath of devastation, what few clones left were clinging to the Mandalorian diaspora. He didn’t know how to feel about that. Did that make Tal’ika the second Mandalorian Jedi in history? Force, that was going to be a headache when they got older.

“And your regular studies?”

“Uh...” Color rose in their cheeks. “Leia says they are ‘un-or-tho-dox, but Tech says they’re re-le-vant.”

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have expected much from a half feral Jedi youngling raised by some of the most unorthodox clones he had ever heard of. Cody was wonderful, but he had met Captain Rex, and he knew for a fact their educational modules had to be a hot mess. And then Plo had gone and tossed them in with the damned Bad Batch. Granted, it sounded like he was desperate, given the previous ship blowing up, but the very thought of Tech getting his hands on a hyper intelligent Force sensitive child’s educational requirements was headache inducing.

Yes, the Temple was going to be better for them. Much better for them.

“Can we meditate now?” Tal’ika asked, their voice barely pitching into a whine, and Mace decided he’d grilled them enough. The picture they painted was a bleak future, where the survivors fought for what little happiness a hard galaxy could afford them. And, well, he still had to accept them into the temple, and he had to actually examine their Force core in order to do that.

He knew they would pass, of course, just as sure as he knew they would be his. It was a quiet, uncomfortable confidence in his gut that he hadn’t felt since he first laid eyes on Depa, but this was going to be his padawan, Obi-Wan and Plo be damned.

“Yes. Of course. May I--- Oh.”

Tal’ika had simply climbed to their feet and plopped right between his crossed legs. Right. Raised by clones. Of course Plo would indulge their tactile nature in meditation, and of course they were still young enough to get away with it.

Tal’ika’s spine straightened, and then they breathed out, their eyes slipping shut as they crossed their legs to balance on his calves. Mace just came to the conclusion that this child was forceful, possibly a little too forceful, but there was little harm in it. They evidently had a good head on their shoulders, and far be it from Mace to ever tell a little one no. So, he just balanced his hands on his knees and relaxed into a meditation with their warm back pressed up against his chest.

“Do you need me to walk you through it?” He asked, and they firmly shook their head no.

“No. Plo says it’s time for me to start doing it on my own,” they replied firmly, and Mace’s lips twitched in a smile. Of course they were going to be advanced. This was a Kenobi child.

“Alright. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

They were so firm, so sure of themselves. He didn’t think they’d ever heard a disparaging word from someone in their life, and he was quietly glad for it. There was nothing that gave him greater hope than a young child who knew exactly who they were and what they wanted, a child who had never once been given room to doubt themselves and their needs, who expressed things firmly and aggressively without a hint of shame. It was a good thing.

Slipping into meditation was as easy as breathing. Their little back pressed against his chest, and he followed each breath as they sunk into the Force together, their Force signatures tangling together as they steadily dropped their shields to share with him. Mace let them drift, cataloguing and categorizing the conflicting emotions that had risen up within himself and setting them aside. Anger was there, and pain, and confusion, and fear. How could he not be afraid? They had essentially spoken of genocides, of the clones and the Jedi, and this was his home. His family. He was the Grand Master of the Order, and he had evidently failed it in their time.

He would have to do better.

Tal’ika was still at an age where they needed a little help, and Mace set to the task with an age-old comfort as he helped them identify the emotions in their body that was too damn small for the burning Force presence that engulfed them. They were angry, and they were terrified, despite the cool exterior. They had communicated as much as they could, but someone, namely Plo, had evidently taught them extensively about when words weren’t enough, the Force would suffice. No wonder they had been so demanding about meditation. The fear of all the changes and confusion was a roiling core, and Mace nudged along at their shields, coaxing them into letting them down so he could help.

They did, easily, with only the trust of a child, and Mace hummed as he reached out to touch that fear and press forward with comfort and reassurance. Letting go wasn’t enough, sometimes. It took awhile to learn, and they were far too young to have it mastered. Being validated was important, too, and he made sure to acknowledge the fear and uncertainty overtaking them. It was only natural.

Inch by inch, they let go of the fear, and he buffeted them with warmth and acceptance as they did. The trust of a child was always an overwhelming sort of thing, and he couldn’t help but wish he could spend more time with younglings. It was a lot easier, even with time-traveling post-apocalypse younglings. Adults got wrapped up in their emotions and consumed by them. Younglings, though, did a lot better with letting comfort be comfort and fear be fear and anger be anger. They didn’t mix things up, took anger for safety and fear for a shield.

After helping them detach from their fear and pain and loneliness, which they let go with surprising swiftness, he spent a little time nudging along their shields and examining who the Force was telling him they were. Tal’ika Fox, the child of Obi-Wan Kenobi and Commander Fox of the Coruscant Guard, was a lot more than their lineage. Sifting around, he could see that they were kind, at their core, not at all like their father, who Mace knew never hesitated to cut someone down if they stood in the way of justice. No, this was someone who would hesitate, and at any given opportunity. However, interspersed with that kindness and desire to help was an unsteady nature. No, even unstable, which could be attributed to the cloning techniques used to make them. Or perhaps they had been engineered to be more aggressive and unbalanced. He wouldn’t put it past the Kaminoans. Plo had been apparently doing his damned best to prove the difference in nature versus nurture, though, given how Tal’ika had just demanded meditation when they felt like they couldn’t keep it together for much longer. As they got older, they might need real medication to help balance them out, but for now they could do their best to balance them out in the temple and their upbringing.

Compassion was there, too. Boundless compassion, and forgiveness, which was going to be a given, given their Plo’s apparent proclivities for kidnapping and yanking control chips out of clones’ heads. They’d probably been shot at a fair number of the clones they’d saved, and probably had been scared by a good amount of them, but here they were. All of the tenants of the Order so entrenched in their being.

Yes. They would be fine for the Jedi.

It was almost nice, sitting in the grass with them on his lap, taking this meditation so seriously, serious as a heart attack. He could feel their single minded focus, and it brought a sense of fondness to the whole ordeal. He needed to do this more often, probably after he solved the problems presented by their little time traveling initiate. He almost lost track of time, just letting the Force flow around them as he let his mind drift, emotions rising up and being set to the side, correcting nudges given whenever their attention began to focus. In fact, he did lose track of time, right up until the moment someone cleared their throat behind him. He hadn’t even felt Ponds come up, more focused on fixing Tal’ika’s posture.

“Commander,” he said as he opened his eyes. Tal’ika let out a quiet noise of frustration at the interruption, and he patted them on their shoulder.

“You told me to collect you for the briefing, sir,” Ponds said, and Mace ignored the mild amusement radiating off the man at the sight of his general with a mini Obi-Wan in his lap.

“Well, we’ll have to drop Initiate Tal’ika off at their creche, first,” he replied as Tal’ika climbed to their feet and straightened their robes, which they seemed to be deeply displeased to be wearing.

“I can take myself,” Tal’ika declared, and Mace cringed at the thought.

“The last time you ‘took yourself’ to the creche, you ended up in the restricted section of the Archives with a lightsaber that did not belong to you,” he replied, and Tal’ika paused.

“Well, if you don’t want your weapons to go missing, you shouldn’t leave them laying around just anywhere,” they sniffed. “Cody told me Obi-Wan was always leaving his saber everywhere, so I was really doing a good deed. For Cody.”

Ponds was physically restraining himself from laughing, and Mace was just infinitely glad he had no bad habits, because he wasn’t sure he’d survive the humiliation of Tal’ika helpfully correcting his.

“I’m not sure Obi-Wan would agree with you, Tal’ika,” he said gravely, and Tal’ika crinkled up their nose.

“That’s because he doesn’t know what’s good for him, Master Windu.”

“Sir, you are going to miss the briefing,” Ponds cautioned, and Mace leaned over to pick Tal’ika up and set them on his hip.

“I’m the Grand Master of the Jedi Order. They can wait,” he replied, and Tal’ika snorted.

“That’s abuse of power,” they said, very seriously, like they had heard it many, many times before.

“We all have our vices, Initiate Tal’ika,” Mace replied, just as seriously, and Tal’ika took his face in two very small hands to turn it to them so they could look him directly in the eye.

“I don’t.”

Ah, yes. Their apprenticeship was going to be a nightmare. Mace couldn’t wait.

[thiefofstars16]

soooooo here is yet another thing that won't leave me alone!

Force Visions, Pirates, and Mandalorians - Oh My!

----

Obi-Wan Kenobi has a Force vision and sees Jedi Younglings being captured to be sold into slavery, and he knows without a doubt that he needs to do something about it, even if no one but his close friends will believe him. He's been in that position before, where ignoring a vision led to some of the worst moments of his sixteen short years. He also knows that he only has a short amount of time before the events in his vision come to pass, and that he's going to have to do some outrageously illegal things, lie to the Council, and possibly get himself captured on purpose. If he also happens to help rescue a couple of missing Mandalorians, too? Well, obviously the Force just has it out for him, plain and simple.

----

Obi-Wan woke up with a scream lodged in his throat.

He had flashes of what he had seen coming in and out of focus, all of it in pieces and not in any way coherent. Obi-Wan took a few deep breaths, in-for-five, out-for-seven, until he felt he marginally calmer.

He knew how to break down his visions, how to heed the warnings, and he also knew that if he told any of the Masters they would simply repeat back the same mantra: always in motion, the future is.

What a bunch of bantha-shit, Obi-Wan thought, still somewhat upset.

All his life he had experienced extremely harrowing and traumatizing visions, and so far, all of them had come true bar the ones he could tell were decades off; he knew which ones those were because he had seen himself, older, more tired, with strange armor and even more strangely armored people at his back (these visions just made him confused because what use would a Jedi have for armor, let alone when would he even come into contact with people who looked like walking weapons factories?)

The vision that woke him up, however, was the terrifying kind. On one hand Obi-Wan knew that he needed to take a step back and meditate on the vision so he could take apart the warnings, make note of who was involved and where it took place. On the other hand...he had felt the fear, the grief, the abject terror that had saturated his vision, and he really did not want to re-experience that.

But he knew that he wouldn't get any sort of peace until he figured it out, and he knew from past experience that ignoring the vision would not only lead to it coming to fruition, but possibly something worse. He reluctantly got out of bed and into the 'fresher, getting ready for the day even though it wasn't even first light.

I won't be able to go back to sleep after that, he groused.

As he went about his morning routine, Obi-Wan remembered when he had ignored a vision like this, when he had dismissed it as fearful thinking of a rejected Initiate sent off to be a farmer. He thought it impossible, that something as Dark as a Fallen Jedi would have been known and taken care of by the Order's ever-elusive Shadows, if not the Jedi Council themselves. He didn't think that a slave-operation would have been able to practically be in the open on a Republic-aligned world, either.

His faith in that ever-enduring mantra was shattered when he found himself in chains, in a bomb-collar on a deep-sea mine on Bandomeer. When the person who at one point would have been his Padawan-Brother had put the collar on Obi-Wan with a mocking laugh, the Dark Side nearly suffacating him until the Force itself was cut off by shackles snapping shut around his wrists.

I should have heeded the warnings of the vision - if I had, I could have told Master Jinn and he could have stopped Xanatos sooner! Or I would have messaged the Council, the Agri-Corps members, or anyone, that something was wrong! he had thought, panicked and afraid, so very very afraid of what was to happen next.

(Obi-Wan's faith in Master Jinn, however, hadn't been shaken until he was fresh off the battlefield of child soldiers and having spent nearly a year fighting a war, but Obi-Wan shoved that train of thought straight back into the Force.)

Obi-Wan had spent months in chains, trying so very hard to stay alive, and every single moment he had promised himself, that if he escaped this hell alive, he would always heed his visions, to try and understand what they were warning him, so that something like this wouldn't happen again.

And it's with that particular thought in mind that he made his way out of his room and to the Room of a Thousand Fountains. They were overflowing with serenity, something he sorely needed to begin unravelling his vision. Thankfully, his Master was off-planet on a solo-mission, and Obi-Wan's shields were stronger than durasteel - to survive what he'd been through, he had to get better at shielding or he would have died before ever becoming a Padawan.

Not even Master Windu - youngest Councilor ever, creator of the Vapaad - had been able to get passed his shields that hid the full extent of what had happened to him after his missions the past few years.

He made his way to one of his favorite spots, a secluded grove set in the highest part of the Room. He very much enjoyed this spot - it was too high for Younglings to safely venture and too much of a hassle for more adventurous Initiates or Padawans to try to get to. Most Masters didn't bother trying to seclude themselves as even Crèchelings knew not to disturb those meditating.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan settled into the roots of the large Veshok tree, reached into the Force -

- a feeling of anticipation, excitement, slight fear and wonder surrounded all of the Jedi Younglings, Initiates, on their way to Ilum -

- ice, so cold, why is it so cold? And a song, beckoning him to come closer, to take it away from the cold and be warm at last, a bright golden light -

- he's got another lightsaber crystal that he can immediately tell is for a shoto blade, but why? His Master had never been interested in him learning Jar'Kai, but now it seems as if he will have to because the thought of leaving his newly acquired crystal makes him want to scream -

- the return trip has a feeling of foreboding and oh, oh, he can feel that this is where it goes wrong, that this is what he needs to be prepared for because the Master and their Padawan were very much not, and the Knight-Pilot only just getting them and most, but not all, of the Initiates out -

- he feels the ship that they're in come to a screeching stop, pirates (pirates, why does it have to be pirates?) boarding with manic glee, calling out "take the baby wizards, we'll get a lot more for them" and that causes alarm to spike because they weren't just pirates they were slavers because of-karking-course they were -

- he watches as the Master and Padawan try to protect the Younglings, but there are too many pirates swarming their ship, and he knows what he needs to do as the pirates grab three of the Initiates; he launches himself at them and Force Pushes so hard that the nearest slavers are shoved back onto their own ship, and he's shouting at the other Jedi to get out of there with the younglings that they managed to save -

- he leaps into the other ship after the captured Initiates and hauls all three close to him in the slavers' ship, baring his slightly too-sharp teeth, praying that he can protect them but the pirates are so angry at the loss of profit and the Initiates are so scared and it's all he can do to not break -

- and then he's in a cell, the Initiates in Force cuffs next to him, with cuffs on his own wrists and gods please no, not this again, but he has to be strong because he's been here before but the Younglings haven't and he will not let another child die, not again -

- a woman with dark brown skin, along with a young Pantoran male, an older human male, and others bound in chains that he couldn't see, are being dragged in, screaming that they'll kick their hut'uun'la shebs when they get free, that the Mand'alor will kill them all for taking one of the Ad'be'Mand'alor, their captors' nervous laughter ringing in the background -

Obi-Wan comes back to himself, crying and gasping, the sense of dread nearly overtaking him.

"Breathe, Obi, you gotta breathe for me, c'mon that's it."

The voice cuts through his panic and he listens, breathing slowly evening out. Obi-Wan takes a moment, or a few, to collect himself, looking up from his hands to the sight of warm brown skin, black hair in dreadlocks with clasps of varying colors dotted throughout, and a bright yellow tattoo on a face hovering closely in front of his.

"Quin," he whispers.

Quinlan Vos: his best friend, closest confidant, and partner-in-crime.

"Hey, Obi. Wanna tell me what you Saw?" Quinlan asks, quietly and without pressuring him.

Obi-Wan pauses, thinks for a moment about what he's going to say. He'll definitely tell Quinlan, because he's one hundred percent sure that he's going to need his best friend's help, it's just - how's he going to explain that he knows something bad is going to happen, that he knows he's going to end up in chains once again, that he needs to start practicing Jar'Kai now so he can be ready for when this vision comes to pass?

Quinlan waits, slowly rubbing his hand in a soothing pattern down his friend's shoulders, then nearly breaks Obi-Wan's arms with the next words that come out of his mouth:

"One: I'm going to need to start learning Jar'Kai. Two: I need to know how to break Force cuffs without the Force. Three: I'm going to need to learn how to slice into ships, databanks, and anything else. Four: I need to learn basic Force-Healing. And Five: I need to know what or who the hell a Mand'alor is and why slavers would be nervous at the mere mention of the word."

Quinlan balks, but only for a moment, because this is Obi-Wan, and weird Force shit always happens to him so he shouldn't be surprised at this point.

"It seems that we've got to start preparing for the worst, doesn't it?"

[cxptain-rex]

Keep You Safe {Commander Rex}

pairings: rex x reader

warnings: kinda angst!

request: this was requested by @bountyhunterslut I hope you enjoy this! thank you for requesting. I made it kinda angst I just got the feels.

prompts: 37. “You’re a terrible liar” 38. “I’ll keep you safe”

***

***

Rex knows.

He knows that falling in love is not part of his code as a soldier. People rise and fall in the midst of war. He has watch many of his brothers die. Die for something that they were engineered to defend no matter the cost.

Clones do not have a choice, you either fight or die. Or you just die for not doing your duty.

Rex knows he shouldn’t be attached to someone. But he is. He is attached to you. Yet he can’t help it. You became someone for him. A person worth fighting for.

***

Now you’re standing around the droid projecting Obi-Wan Kenobi as he speaks of the Anakin’s newest mission and how is the Siege of Mandalore doing.

“We need more men, General” you announced crossing your arms together. The blue light of the Jedi hummed softly. “I can’t send you more” he says dejected receiving a glare from Bo Katan and Ahsoka.

Rex on the other hand looks relieved. He can’t bare watch more brothers die thanks to the mandalorians.

“Commander! There has been an attack” a shiny announced to Ahsoka. The holocom has been cut short as Ahsoka and Bo Katan fled the plaza. You turn to follow but a hand tugs you back.

The announcement of the attack makes all the clones rush to their battle stations. You stand, knowing what’s coming. You can feel the anxiety piercing Rex’s aura.

Rex stands there, a hand closed around your wrist and his eyes searching the floor. “Where are you going?” He asks lifting his gaze to look into your eyes. You frown looking back, “I will go and help Ahsoka” you answer slowly.

He can’t help but sigh as well, silence coming from his parted lips. Rex wishes he could take you and put you in a ship far away from Mandalore. Just for your safety and his own sanity. He can’t bare seeing you get hurt.

“I’ll be fine” you assure with a half smile which indicates the contrary of your statement. The newly commander finds amusement. A bitter laugh snaps. “You’re a terrible liar” he muses causing you to roll your eyes.

Rex is right, you don’t know if you’ll be fine. This is Darth Maul, not another clanker you could easily slash down. A Sith Lord. And here you are, promising something that might be as well a lie.

You turn to leave. Rex’s eyes widen as he watches your retreating back. He reacts quickly following behind. “Y/N, wait” he calls forgetting all protocols and command. As you leave the room and down a corridor, Rex halts as you turn around swiftly.

***

“Stay here, Rex. That is an order” you say lowly causing the Commander to frown. “I can’t let you go, please. I don’t know if you’ll be back” Rex draws pleading softly as he lays his hands on your arms. “I must help Ahsoka, I need to do this” you push looking away.

“Y/N, stay. Please. I’ll keep you safe” the Commander says causing you to meet his teary gaze. Rex does not feel ashamed for crying infront of you. The guilt eats your heartstrings as you sigh.

Defeating Darth Maul is your duty. To destroy him once and for all. To bring peace to Mandalore. But to also survive this war.

“Rex, ni kar'tayl gar darasuum” you whisper leaning your forehead against his. Rex’s breath fans over your lips causing you to shudder as you lean in for a kiss. You enjoy the moment trying to remember it for as long as you can.

As you pull away, you search for Rex. You watch and take in his face and his beauty. His golden eyes, his blonde hair. The small scar on his chin, the way his lips have become bruised now, on your doing of course.

The Commander’s eyes widen in realization. You turn to leave once again and this time Rex doesn’t follow. He stays in place by your doing as you force bind him to the stay. He cries for you in his mind. He trashes as you are gone.

You’re gone to fight a mad man with no idea if you’ll make it back to your lover.

***

The battle has been won. Ahsoka and you took down Maul.

A tear slips down your cheek as you haul yourself to limp towards the plaza. You promised you’d make it back and you did. Pain erupts from your side, it is blinding and it burns as you recoil. The same pain makes you stay awake until you find Rex.

The man of the hour stands now watching over Mandalore. He hear footsteps and he turns. Rex’s demeanor falls as you stop to stand infront of him. Beaten and bloody but there you are.

You smile, and your knees buckle causing you to almost fall. Rex rushes to haul you into his arms. “Kix! Get in here!” He cries into his comlink as he holds you. The Commander applies pressure against your wound causing you to hiss. “I love you too” he hiccups making reference to what you said earlier.

Rex kisses your forehead as tears gush like a fountain. He cries holding you in fear of losing you. The man sobs harder as the clone medic takes you away from him. Rex sees the blood on his gloved hands, your blood. He feels a knot on his throat as he cries harder.

***

Hours later, you’re saved.

Kix had managed to save you just in time. Now you lay on a cot admiring the blue ceiling of a Mandalorian medic bay. You can hear clones and mandalorians as well being treated.

A figure stands on the doorway, you turn to see who it is.

“Rex” you drawl trying to sit up only to whine involuntarily and lay back down. “Don’t force yourself” he says advancing towards you.

The Commander smiles softly sitting down by your side. He cradles your hand causing you to whimper at the touch. “You’re ok” he says mainly to himself assuring that you’re fine.

“You kept me safe, my love. You were the beckon keeping me alive in this war” you whisper softly causing Rex to whimper as he leans to kiss you once again. You two bask in your moment of being alive. Forgetting about the rest and the future, living in the present.

***

Author’s Note: AAH THIS WAS SO NICE IM CRYING. You guys know what to do! Thank you as always! XX