#similar thing could be said for his unloveable tattoo also which makes me even more insane to think abt i just

[thekidsarentalright]

u guys ever think abt pete bringing back the love cant save you hoodie and wearing it constantly this era while being living proof that love Can save you and instead of wearing it as a depressing omission of truth it instead is almost a badge of honor that love did save him. bc i think abt it constantly

[havethetimeofyourstyles]

Love Me Please?

Thank you to @habiba012 for requesting this!

Please feel free to request anything if you have anything in mind!

Harry has always been a private person.

Ever since he was put into a band and was practically in the spotlight for so many years; having people make him out to be someone he’s not and having people use him for something that’s other than his love. People have cheated on him, used him, and willingly broke his heart.

So when another person yet again, breaks his heart, he’s disappointed, but not surprised. It’s kind of like he knew it was coming. He hurts a lot and he hurts deeply that no one can love him. Sure, he has thousands, if not, millions of fans who love him dearly, but they don’t know him personally.

There’s so many people who would voluntarily give him their love and heart, yet he still feels unloved.

He’s a private person, but he’s also a romantic.

Harry is a sucker for a good rom-com. He wants the giddiness and the everything leading up to a ‘happily ever after.’ He simply just wants to feel and be happy with someone he’s proud to say that he’s in love with. But he also knows not to get his hopes up as his hopes have been buried deep under after the few girls who buried it for him.

He just wants someone to love him.

Harry means well when he says he writes through personal experience. He’s always been the type of songwriter to write something honest, something people can relate to. Honesty is perhaps his favorite trait. In everything he does, says, and writes.

“I just left your bedroom, give me some morphine. Is there any more to do?” Harry wants his pain to be gone. He’d rather feel numb then in pain.

“Gotta get better, gotta get better. And maybe we’ll work it out.” He feels as if he’s not enough, that he needs to work on himself to make things right with someone.

“Maybe one day you’ll call me and tell me that you’re sorry too.” They hurt him. He apologized and they didn’t.

He needs honesty in songs to have me sign and feeling to them. Every little thing, he wants to be honest about, like a simple tattoo for a fan.

“Do you mind writing something I can get tattooed please?” The fan says with bright eyes.

“Sure, what do you want me to write?”

“Anything you want! At this point I would get anything tattooed.”

He thinks for a minute as he holds the paper and pen. He furrows his eyebrows and looks around for something he potentially could write.

“Ah.” He stars to write and the girl is so happy as she sees her idol write up her next tattoo. “Here ya go. Sorry if my handwriting is messy, but don’t feel like you have to get it if you want.” He hands the paper and pen back to her. She squeals and thanks him, giving him a big squeeze.

Harry proceeds to get ready for his show, thinking about the tattoo he’s written. It wasn’t that hard, wasn’t it? The thought brings tears to his eyes, but he quickly thinks about something else before he’s a sobbing mess.

“Love me, please?”

He’s not sure how what to believe yet or how he got lucky.

A few months after he’s written that tattoo for his fan, that’s all he thought about. With how emotional and raw it sounds, that’s constantly what’s been going through his mind (also because he thinks it’ll be a great song title). He just wants someone to love him. Love him for himself and what’s he’s like as a person. Not what he works as, how much money he makes, and all the other benefits of being a rockstar.

Then you came around.

After four months of “love me, please?” Anne introduced you to Harry. She met you at your restaurant, a week after opening as she complimented your delicious food and lovely scenery of a restaurant. You were so flattered and humble about that moment. Anne later took her friends, asking one of the waiters if they can bring you round to their table, which you gladly said yes to. You were surprised to see that it was the same lady from just a week before, but nonetheless, happy since she’s a very sweet and kind person. Few weeks later, she then took her daughter, which you also met. And lastly, she took her son.

Her son that you were so incredibly fond of.

He seemed very shy at first, congratulating you on the opening and the amazing food. You shyly thanked him and told them to enjoy the rest of their evening, to which you quickly walked back to the kitchen to contain your shaky hands and stuttering words.

That definitely was not the last time you were going to see him.

You bumped into him in a vintage shop as you were holding two hangers of band tees. You immediately saw him, wearing round sunglasses and a beanie with a grey “Treat People With Kindness” sweater and black athletic shorts. You don’t know any other person who can rock a basic outfit; assumingely just after working out too.

You don’t know if you should go up to him, seeming that he’s only met you once for a brief moment. But he recognizes you from across the shop, his eyes brighten, and he waves at you.

Then things really hit it off from there. After that reunion, he asked you out to get some coffee, which then led to exchanging numbers, to him asking you out on a date, to the second date, the first kiss, to more dates, and more dates, shyly asking you to be his girlfriend, first time together, arguments, laughter, tears, opening up, ‘I love you’s’, more kisses and more sex in between, more dates, everything you and him could ever think of.

And with just a little more than a year and a half later, asking you to officially move in with him.

In all honesty, you’ve already moved in half of your closet without both of you even knowing and you rarely leave his place, only leaving to get even more clothes, just to leave there. And Harry does not mind at all, he loves seeing the other half of his closet being occupied.

You both fall into a routine just after a month of you officially moving in. You finally know his whole place from ceiling to floor and you’re pretty satisfied about that.

He loves having you be there 24/7. He never really gets tired of it. He feels as if he can finally feel at piece with the whole idea of love, and he’s never been happier. He feels himself falling even more in love with you every single day. It scares him. It scares the shit out of him. It’s so different from the other people that he’s dated. It’s definitely not something he’s used to, even after a year of being together, he feels as if he doesn’t deserve your love.

The first time he feels himself falling deeper is when he wakes up to an empty bed to only find you plating breakfast.

Your a chef, a damn good one at that, so he loves seeing you in action. He loves when you fold your beautiful lips in when plating food, showing how concentrating you are.

He decides to make himself known when you place the two plates and mugs on the table. With the smell of fresh brewed coffee and fresh French toast it was hard to resist hiding out.

And when he takes a bite, he feels deep appreciation through her food.

The second time he feels himself falling deeper is when he sees you picking out his outfit for the day.

Harry is an early bird, but you’re an even earlier bird, always have been. So when you wake up an hour when Harry’s due to wake, you find yourself in the closet picking and creating new outfits for him. It’s something you love to do since he has such a variety of beautiful clothing. Some days he’ll wake up and find you in the closet, eyes brighten as you let out an ‘ooh’ when you come up with an idea for an outfit. It’s something he’s so fond about; when he sees your creative and fashionable side.

The third time he feels himself falling deeper is when he runs out of his favorite body scrub.

He makes a trip to the store, finding out that they ran of stock, which leads him to going to another two stores to which he’s let down and walks out empty handed.

And when you both are having a home cooked meal, taking about your days, he disappointingly points out that he went to three stores to only find out that none of them have his favorite body scrub, and then later finding out that they discontinued selling it in all three of them. You tell him that it’s okay and that he can always find something that smells similar to it, to which he agrees.

But it’s then, just two days after, when you get home you find Harry sitting on the couch, reading a book.

“Hi, love.” You say as you lock up behind you.

“Hi, baby. How are you?” He gets up and greets you with a kiss.

“I’m doing okay, exhausted. I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll cook dinner.” You brush some of the hair that’s fallen on his face as he looks down at you.

“Don’t worry about dinner, I already made something.” You smile in appreciation.

“Aww, thank you. Really appreciate it, I can’t wait.”

“No need to thank me, baby. I don’t expect you to do all the work in this house. We’re equal doing work, okay? Simple cleaning, cooking, and laundry, I can easily do.”

“That means a lot, Harry. I’m gonna go shower and then we can have your delicious food.” You give him one more kiss and walk to the bedroom.

“Want me to join you?” He asks as he looks down at your hips as you walk away from him.

“If you do, we’re never going to eat and I’m starving! Just wait until I’m done.” You yell out from the bedroom. He laughs, sitting back down on the couch as he waits for you.

Once you’re done and feeling fresh, you go back downstairs and join him. You see the table already set, so you just sit down and enjoy the delicious food in front of you with your favorite person.

You both talk about your day, the book he’s reading, and the music you both listened to today. All in all, dinners always took about an hour and a half. Half an hour of eating and talking a bit, and the rest talking about everything and anything that comes to mind.

You get up from your seat and grab his plate and his. You lean down to kiss his forehead, “Thank you for dinner, love.”

“No problem, babe. I’m gonna go up and take a shower now.” You nod and give him a smile, and see him walk up the stairs.

Not even 10 minutes have passed into tidying up the kitchen when you hear footsteps slowly coming right back down. You smile to yourself and look up, finding Harry slowly walking down the stairs. You expected smiles and that devilishly, handsome smirk, but you’re surprised when you see tears streaming down his face. You drop the rag and rush over to him as he meet you at the bottom of the stairs and you wrap your arms around his waist

“Baby, what’s wrong?” He doesn’t reply, just cries softly. You gently rub his back, soothing him from his sobs.

“Harry, you’re scaring me. Tell me wrong, love.” He takes a few breaths, trying to calm himself down before he speaks.

“Y-you bought me my f-favorite scrub.” He says as he wipes his tears from eyes. You immediately felt a relief, knowing that nothing major happened. You softly smile and keep rubbing his back, knowing that it’s something he finds comfort in.

Harry feels safe in your arms and there’s nothing better than knowing that he does.

“Of course, I did, love.”

“B-but it’s sold out, everywhere.” You pause for a moment.

“I went across town to get it.” Harry looks at you with wide eyes. The tears that have seemed to calm down are coming back.

“What? Wait, what? Why?”

“Because you ran out.”

“B-but, I just—what?” He doesn’t know what to say. He’s absolutely shocked and can’t form a straight sentence.

“Harry, I wanted to get it for you. So I left work just a tad bit early to get your scrub for you. Why are you so shocked, baby?”

More and new tears are forming. “I-it’s just that... I’m still confused. You do so many nice things for me and I don’t know why. No one has ever been this kind to me and I don’t deserve the things-“

“Alright, I’m going to stop you right there, and I want you to look at me and listen to me.” You put your hands on the side of his face as you two meet eyes. “I never, never want you to say that you don’t deserve anything nice. Because you do. I’m gonna tell you now: I’m not one of your exes. I know you’ve had a hard time in your previous dating life and they somewhat brainwashed you into thinking you’re not good enough. But I’m now. I’m here. You deserve all the good life brings and if things get bad, I’m not backing down. I’m with you for you, end of.”

Harry nods as he looks down. “I’m sorry. I just got overwhelmed.”

“Hey, hey, hey, no apologizing. Nothing to be sorry for, right? I bought it for you and I do everything else because I just want to see you happy. It’s my favorite Harry. I hated seeing you disappointed that they didn’t have the scrub anywhere near us, so I just wanted to make you happy.” Harry smiles a little, giving your lips a kiss.

“You make me happy. So so so happy.” You smile at him, glad that he’s in a better mood.

“The feeling is mutual.”

He wraps his arms around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck, and inhaling your sweet scent.

You do the same, with your head on Harry’s shoulder, and rubbing up and down his back.

“I’m here for the long run, Harry.” He pulls away and looks at you with shock on his face. “I mean who else am I going to marry?”

“You want to marry me?”

“I want to do anything and everything with you.” You say as you caress his cheek.

Harry has fallen in deep. He’s fallen so far down from the top that he doesn’t know if someone will catch him. He dove straight in with fear just as high as the cliff he jumped off of and he’s afraid of what will come at the end.

But you came along and caught him from falling. You were there to keep him on his feet and you’ll gladly do it forever if you have to.

Harry didn’t fall because of all the nice things you do for him. He fell because of the positive intentions you have for him. People in his life have always had bad intentions and without a problem, take advantage of him. He fell because you loved him for him, and that’s all he wanted.

“Love me, forever, please?”

“Always, love, always.”

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Sweet Pea//Worthy

Request: So I was re-reading Sensational, the Choni imagine you wrote with soulmates, and could you do something similar with Sweet Pea/Reader, I'm a sucker for soulmate Au's maybe Sweet Pea is embarassed about his quote so he tries to hide it, and thats how everyone finds out you two are soulamtes?

based off this

Warning: Kinda sorta self harm. He basically scratches his wrist and it bleeds.

‘you are worthy of love’ 

The most important words in Sweet Pea’s life, and he did everything he could to ignore them. To cover them up...keep them hidden from him and the rest of the world. His entire life he has grown up unloved. His family never loved him, they left when he was 8. He knew Toni and Fangs loved him but it was only a matter of time before they left him as well. He wasn’t exactly the easiest to be friends with, let alone lovers. He pushed everyone away, whats the point in letting people in your life when they’re gonna leave.

Toni and Fangs never went anywhere but they had found their soulmate, and they were spending less and less time with him. Just like his parents. It was only a matter of time before they saw sense and left him again. He was unworthy of love, and he knew it. 

Him, Toni and Fangs barely talked about soulmates. They had told him their quote and when they’d found theirs but that was it. He never told them anything about his, choosing to ignore it. If he couldn’t see it then it didn’t exist. That was until you turned up. 

As soon as he walked the halls of Riverdale High he was hyper aware of your presence. That was probably due to the fact that you were shouting about someone’s soulmate so loudly in the corridor that he thought the entirety of Riverdale had heard. 

You hadn’t even noticed the gang members that had just walked through the door, well that was was until you walked straight into one of them. Which of course was him. You had muttered a sorry, not even noticing anything different about him and from then on he started to fall. 

He knew it was a dangerous game to play, he didn’t even know who his soulmate was. Nobody did until one of you said the important quote that was tattooed into your skin. So falling for you, was a big mistake, but he just couldn’t help himself. You had started hanging out, not all of the time, but every time you saw each other in the corridor you would smile at each other. If you were in the same class, you would usually sit next to each other, and if you saw each other sitting alone at Pops you would keep each other company, and catch up on each others days. He had also managed to work up the courage to give you his number and to his surprise you had accepted! 

To him you were the most perfect woman he had ever seen, and now he started to actually be excited about finding out who his soulmate was. Just in case it was you. He started to look at his tattoo, and sometimes, he’d go to school without it bandaged like it usually was. He started believing in soulmates, he started believing in love. 

That was until about twenty minutes ago, when Mantle had seen his soulmate tattoo. The words still rung in Sweet Pea’s ears as he sat in detention. 

“who would love you?” He teased. 

Sweet Pea had forgotten to bandage his arm that day, not realizing that he had basketball practice after school. By the time he noticed it was too late, and Reggie and the rest of the basketball team had not only seen it, but had somehow, with their three collective braincells managed to come up with insults about it. 

‘your own family doesn’t even love you, trailer park.’ Another one laughed. Sweet Pea squeezed his wrist and tried to ignore their words. Fangs was stood beside him watching the entire thing happen. He’d tried to calm his friend down but it was no use. As soon as Sweet Pea saw red, there was no going back. 

‘Sweet Pea? Worthy of love? There’s more chance of the Southside becoming a nice place to live.’ Reggie laughed with his friends. Now it was definitely too late to pull Sweet Pea from his anger. One minute he was stood clenching his fists, and the next Reggie and a few of the other Bulldogs were on the floor clutching their faces. 

Now Sweet Pea was in detention with bruising knuckles and a scratched soulmate mark. As he was being sent to detention, he had the overwhelming feeling to cry. They were right. Who would love him? Whoever says that simple sentence to him are liars and he wants nothing to do with them. He decided instead of crying, he would do something better, he’d try and free himself from this damn life sentence tattooed on his wrist. So he scratched and scratched at the mark until he was placed in an empty classroom to sit for an hour. His wrist bled slightly but he couldn’t feel it. He felt numb, and empty. 

He’d been in the classroom for about twenty minutes when the door swung open. 

“This is ridiculous!” You shouted at the teacher who was following you. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Miss y/l/n. You pushed a student into the trophy cabinet which fell onto a teacher.” 

“That was so not my fault! I was pushed! Its not my fault a student, trophy case and teacher were in my way!” You argued and the teacher shook their head.

“Detention. For a month.” The teacher told you and closed the door behind her. 

“This is stupid!” You shouted and banged on the door. “I’m innocent.” You continued to argue.  “Stupid bitch.” You muttered. “Nobody was supposed to see me push her.” You grumbled and Sweet Pea laughed, feeling slightly better now that you were here. “Oh, hey Sweet Pea.” You acknowledged him and moved closer. “Whatcha in for?” 

“Punched some bulldogs.” He replied and showed you his knuckles. 

“Ah. The usual I see.” You smiled brightly at him. “What happened to your wrist?” 

“Oh. Thats nothing.” He sighed and moved his wrist. 

“Cool. Why’d you punch footballers then? Apart from the obvious.” 

“They were just being asses.” 

“What about?” 

“My soulmate mark.” He sighed. 

“Ah. I love mine! Every time I look at it, it makes me happy. When I’m sad, angry or bored I trace it and I instantly feel better. And by the look on your face I see I’m not helping at all.” You shut up and he laughed. 

“Its fine.” 

“What were they saying?”

“That it wasn’t true.” He replied quietly and looked at the floor. 

“How dare you!” You gasped and stood up. 

“Me? If you’re gonna be upset with anyone shouldn’t it be them?” 

“No. You’re the one in the wrong!” You said loudly and he looked at you offended. He felt like his heart had just been ripped out, how could someone as perfect as you, say something so mean? “You’re letting them win. You’re believing them! Bulldogs are never right about anything, especially soulmate marks.” You ranted and stood in front of him. 

“But they are right though.” 

“No they aren’t. Whatever you’re mark says, is true. Now tell me what they were saying.” 

This was the moment Sweet Pea had feared all his life. The moment somebody asked about his mark. He took a deep breath and looked up at you. You were staring at him expectantly. 

“They said that nobody would ever love me.”  

“You are worthy of love, Sweet Pea.” Placing your hand on his, you smiled at him warmly and squeezed it. Your wrist started to burn and you looked down, the skin starting to burn. Your eyes widened and you looked back to Sweet Pea, the same expression on his face too. “Hi.” You whispered. 

“Hi.” He replied, tracing over the scar. It was real. He did have a soulmate and he was lovable! “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.” 

[thefoodwiththedood]

So I’ve hinted at these guys a couple times in asks and stories, but I’m happy to say I finally got to drawing them! Meet Naj Kar and Anva Evis—powerful warriors, rebel sympathizers, star-crossed lovers, and the parents Cerate hardly got to know.

Pictured here is them when they lived as a pair of smugglers post-Order 66, in an effort to make some cash and distance themselves from their old Jedi identities—more on that in their backstory, though. I of course have to give props to @empress-only-in-name for helping me flesh out their designs a bit with this commission from forever ago—for the longest time I had no idea how these two would look but, with their help and a whole lot of experimenting, I think I finally have a concrete design for them with this one!

All told, I’m super happy with how these guys turned out, but what do you guys think? Do these designs look cool? Do you wanna see more from them? Should I have them come back as Force ghosts and teach Cer the ways of the Jedi order? Send whatever feedback you have my way! :D

Just as with all my OCs, their backstories are under the cut. Btw, Master Sko’dal, who’s mentioned briefly down there, belongs to @deer-head-xiris.

Naj Kar and Anva Evis were both born before the invasion of Naboo—Naj in 36 BBY, Anva in 37—to a Dathomiri witch and an Iridonian couple, respectively. Yet as would become the norm for the rest of their lives, any hope of normalcy was quickly ripped from them. Anva was discovered to be Force-sensitive as an infant, which in turn prompted the Jedi to come and take her away from her parents to their temple on Coruscant. There she was raised under the Jedi’s firm yet unloving hand, learning the ways of the Force and the Jedi code. When she turned thirteen, it was decided that she would enter the next stage of her training, and thus she was placed under the tutelage of the Kaleesh Jedi Master Vortys Banne. as his Padawan.

Naj, however, found himself in a far less hospitable home. He was also discovered to be Force-sensitive at a young age, but before either the Jedi or the Sith could get to him, he was taken by a far more malicious clan—the Hutts. One day, a convoy of Hutt clan slaver ships stopped on Dathomir to refuel, and while they were stopped they took the liberty of ransacking Naj’s village and enslaving many of its inhabitants. In the ensuing years, Naj would be separated from the others, and eventually he would find himself a slave to Marlo the Hutt on Nal Hutta. There, when he was still only a child, Naj was made to fight in gladiatorial combat, due to his species’ reputation as incredible warriors. Miraculously, Naj would survive these fights for years, on account of his natural strength and, of course, with a little subtle help from the Force.

And even more miraculously, it would be this use of the Force that would bring Naj and Anva together. It was 23 BBY—only a year before the start of the Clone Wars. Word had eventually got out that Marlo possessed a Force-sensitive gladiator, and eventually that word reached the Jedi order, who sent Master Banne and Padawan Evis to Nal Hutta to investigate the claims. Sure enough, Naj was fighting when they got there. It was the most surreal thing—a twelve year old boy, barely big enough to fill the armor he wore, putting down men twice his size like it was nothing. Not only that, but he was clearly using the Force, both to enhance his strength and physically move his opponents. Master Banne looked on the boy and saw a potential asset to the Order, but Anva saw past the boy’s strength and saw something else—he was scared. He didn’t want to fight.

After the fight, Banne got straight to negotiating with Marlo about buying the boy his freedom. While he did, Anva went and found Naj in his room—which was less of a room and more of a cell, really. He was a ghastly sight up close: malnourished, bruised and scarred, with striking black tattoos covering every inch of his carnelian-colored skin. When Anva tried to speak to him, he jumped out of fright and averted his gaze from hers. Just as Anva had suspected—the poor kid had learned to fear everyone new person he met. He’d never had a friend—only masters with whips and opponents with blades. Anva kept trying to talk, but it wasn’t until Naj got a good look at her that he started to break down his wall just a little bit. Evidently, meeting another Zabrak—and one as kind as Anva, at that—was just what he needed to feel comfortable. Soon enough, Naj was happy as a clam, and as he and Anva talked more they became fast friends. Why, Anva just couldn’t wait to be there with him as they both grew into powerful Jedi knights.

But, that vision didn’t exactly pan out. After freeing Naj and taking him back to Coruscant, Banne and Anva brought Naj before the council. There, they judged him, tested his midi-chlorian count and everything, but the conclusion they came to was more grim than anyone had hoped. Due to Naj being a member of a species heavily connected to the dark side, as well as being immersed in violence for his whole life, it was decided that Naj couldn’t and wouldn’t be trained as a Jedi. Banne and Anva protested, but they were ignored. Instead, it was decided that Naj would be kept at the temple for his own safety, but he could never be a Jedi. Anva was at first upset at this news, but with time she accepted what she’d been given, and over the next year she and Naj hung out in the temple whenever they could, with her training progressing all the while.

Then, the Clone Wars broke out. Padawan Anva became Commander Evis of the G.A.R., and she began to see her friend Naj less and less in favor of long military campaigns. Yet instead of growing apart, the two began to treat their little time together as sacred, with Anva spending nearly all of her time at the temple with Naj. They’d just spend hours talking—sometimes Anva would read to Naj, as he himself was illiterate, and sometimes the two would share Force tricks they’d picked up, but mostly they’d just talk. Naj would recount the events of his mundane Temple life, and Anva would vent about the stresses of war. In both cases, they talked of how alone they felt. How everyone saw them only as objects or weapons of war. How they felt stuck—isolated, even surrounded by masses of people. When they were together, though...they felt happy. They felt understood. Dare I say it, they felt loved.

Love is exactly what blossomed between them, too. It started out purely platonic, but soon enough things did get physical from time to time—they were teenagers, though, who could blame ‘em? Their few and far between meetings at the temple became secret trysts, known of only by them and a few close friends. They knew what they were doing was dangerous, but for better or worse, their love pushed them to risk it. Eventually, however, the risk came back to bite them. Somehow their secret got out, and word eventually made its way back to Master Banne, who promptly told the council of what had happened. In the ensuing debate about what was to be done next, it was concluded that Naj must have been the instigator of these heinous acts, as surely a padawan on the brink of becoming a knight couldn’t be so vulgar. It was decided, then—Naj Kar no longer had a place in the Jedi’s sanctum.

The next morning, Naj was confronted. Four temple guards came to his door, expecting him to lash out, but Naj already knew what was to come, and so he went quietly with them to the chamber of judgement. There, he was judged by a panel of masters, with Master Banne and a few others also being present. It wasn’t much of a deliberation, though—everyone had already come to an agreement. Before they could deliver their final verdict, however, Anva burst into the chamber, visibly frantic and clearly out-for-blood. Thinking she’d arrived to deliver further evidence against Naj, the council permitted her to speak.

That was their second mistake—their first mistake was ever wronging Anva Evis. With her soapbox conveniently set, Anva proceeded to tear into the Jedi, letting loose all her frustration into one impassioned speech. She berated the Jedi for their hypocrisy; they had become an order of mercenaries serving the dark side, killers in a pointless war, enemies of peace and allies of violence—and they had the audacity to punish an innocent man just for feeling love? She was far less articulated than I put it, though—at one point, when Master Yoda tried to refute her claims, she silenced him by saying, and I quote, “suck my dick, you crusty little goblin”. Vulgar as her speech was, though, its meaning reigned true—the Jedi had no right to punish neither she nor Naj, and she would tolerate their rules no longer. She closed her speech by ripping out her padawan braid, mashing it into the ground with her boot, taking Naj’s hands, and telling the council that, “if loving Naj isn’t the Jedi way, then the Jedi way isn’t my way”. She then pulled him in for a impassioned kiss, and after it was broken she said, “now that is my way”.

The room went silent for a moment—save for Master Sko’dal uttering a half impressed/half shocked “holy shit” under their breath, no one said a word. Finally, after snapping back to reality, Yoda simply furrowed his brow and pointed towards the exit, without another word. Anva responded by flipping him the bird, and as she did, Naj swept her off her feet and bridal-carried her out of the chamber. The two couldn’t help but smile, then laugh at the whole ordeal. Sure, they’d burnt every bridge they’d ever built in one fell swoop, but now they were free to go and do as they pleased—and they’d never felt happier. It was the most surreal thing, them walking out of the temple; they marched out like a bride and groom walking down the aisle, but no one dared cheer for them, lest they face similar banishment. The two were alone, for real this time—but they were alone together.

In the coming days the Republic and the Jedi order would fall, but Anva and Naj were far too long gone to even pay any mind to it. For the next few years, the two would travel the galaxy together, making end’s meet as smugglers with a worn-out old quadjumper and a whole lot of luck. They’d spend most of their days working as smugglers, but they did take days off every once in a while to visit old Jedi friends (ones who weren’t dead yet, anyway) or, when they had some extra credits, go on modest little date nights. It wasn’t a glorious life, sure, but for all the things they didn’t have, they at least had each other.

Soon enough, though, they had someone else along for the ride. Three years after leaving the Order, Anva found that she was pregnant. Though she and Naj both agreed their lifestyle wasn’t ideal for a kid to grow up in, they decided that, like they had in the past, they’d just jump in head-first and hope for the best. Thus, in 16 BBY, Anva had the baby in the back of the quadjumper, with the help of a borrowed medical droid and Naj—they couldn’t exactly go to a hospital, what with them being fugitives and all. They’d decided earlier that, if it was a boy, Anva would get to name him Cerate, and if it was a girl, Naj would get to name her Stella, with the baby taking the last name of whomever won as well. Sure enough, he was a boy, so they decided on the name Cerate Aster Evis—funny enough, though, it wasn’t until he said the name out loud that Naj got the “eviscerate” pun. Anva figured that, if he was going to take her last name, he might as well have some kind of callback to his Nightbrother side.

So for the next four years, Anva and Naj would try their best to raise Cer while also juggling their job as smugglers, going so far as to keep him in the cockpit with them while they worked. Despite the less-than-ideal circumstances, Anva and Naj actually made great parents—they always made sure he had time with both of them, they never let work get in the way of raising him, and they protected him from anything and anyone that would try to harm him. They realized, though, that the last point would only get harder as he grew up; as early as a year old, Cer started showing signs of Force sensitivity. Anva and Naj both knew from their own lives how Force-sensitive children tend to get kidnapped, but nevertheless, they did everything they possibly could have to keep their son safe and hidden.

But it would only work for so long—soon enough, the Sith would find out about Cer. One day, Anva and Naj were contacted about what they thought was a lucrative job opportunity, and seeing as they were low on cash, they naturally took it. When they went to the meeting place their client had specified, though, they were met with something far worse: a hulking figure clad in black armor, wielding a lightsaber. It was an Inquisitor; Anva and Naj had heard about them from their still-living Jedi friends, but they’d never seen one in person. Anva’s first instinct was to reach for her own saber-pike—she’d still kept it retracted on her belt, after all these years—but she decided it would be better to wait before exposing her and Naj. The two silently agreed to play dumb, then, but when the Inquisitor spoke, their hearts sank. She wasn’t after them, she said—she wanted Cer.

When Anva and Naj protested, the Inquisitor ignited her saber and, rather than use it right away, demanded once more that they hand him over. She stepped toward the ship, but before she could get closer, Anva quickly pulled out her saber and sliced off the inquisitor’s outstretched hand in one fell swoop. With a stern voice masking blazing fury, Anva stated, “Stay the hell away from my family”. Yet what the Inquisitor did next replaced all of Anva’s fury with fear—from the stump on her arm, blue and purple tendrils shot out and grabbed the severed hand, pulling it back into place. The Inquisitor inspected the hand briefly, and as she did, Anva realized what she was. She was a Gen’Dai—an alien that, as far as she knew, could never be killed. She wouldn’t be able to win this fight. The best she could do is slow her down but, in the end, there was no way out of this.

Instantly, Anva pulled Naj back into the ship and shut the door. She knew it wouldn’t hold, but it was the best she could think of. All the commotion had woken up a then-sleeping Cer, and he and Naj both stared up at Anva with looks of confusion. Anva didn’t want to say what she had to but, with a heavy heart, she began. She told Naj he needed to run—he needed to take Cer, and find a safe place for him to stay. While he did, Anva would hold the Inquisitor off—fight her as long as she could, just to give Naj and Cer as much time as possible. Naj, of course, protested—he said they could escape together, that he could help Anva fight, but they both knew there was no other way. Finally, after a brief shouting-match-turned-fit-of-tears, Naj agreed. The two tried to maintain their composure for a second, but when Cer asked if everything was okay, they instantly lost it. Not knowing what else to do, Anva and Naj pulled Cer into one last big embrace, telling him that everything would be okay.

Finally, after working up her courage for a moment, Anva stepped out of the ship. She smiled back at Naj and Cer one last time before the door shut again, tears still staining her face. That was the last time Naj or Cer ever saw her alive. Quickly, Naj started the quadjumper’s engines, and he and Cer left the planet for...somewhere. Naj didn’t know where at first, but after some thought, he came up with an idea. He knew he couldn’t stay with Cer either, so he needed a secure place for him to stay—somewhere he could be protected, hidden, and hopefully, never told about the Force. He decided that the best possible place would be on Devaron, with his and Anva’s old Jedi friend, Hes Chaddic.

It was nighttime when Naj got to Devaron, and heavy rain was blanketing the Angel’s jungle hideout. With his son in hand, he knocked on the massive factory door and asked for Hes, who came to greet him only half-dressed and half-awake. As Naj explained his situation, though, Hes perked right up. He told her about the Inquisitor, about Anva’s sacrifice, everything—and he begged Hes to look after Cer. He made it out like it would only be for a few days while he waited to get out of the Inquisitor’s sight, but Hes wasn’t fooled. “Naj,” she said, “we both know you won’t be back”

“I know, Hes,” he replied, his heart in his throat, “That’s why I need you to take care of him.” At this, Hes realized the gravity of the situation. She knew she had no idea how to raise a kid but...she had to help her friend, too. Finally, she agreed. Naj thanked her, and with a final embrace and some reassuring words to his son, he said goodbye. It took him a full five minutes to get onto the ship again—for the longest time he just stood in the doorway, not moving as far as Hes or Cer could see. He was crying still. Finally, with some effort, he boarded the ship, closed the door, and flew off into the night. Cer’s little hand waved up to him, and with a deep sigh, Hes took him inside. Naj would never return.