#sith apprentice anakin

[aj-artjunkyard]

I think even funnier than Anakin being a Big War Hero is if he was like. The Temple’s resident tech guy. Cal or Kanan find out who Darth Vader is and they’re like ‘the guy who reset my password???’

[forlouren]

Not to be the first soldier on the frontless of the woobification of Qimir (he is a villain, we know this, and I love him for it), but the lack of nuance, or rather the one-dimensional angle people who don't like his relationship with Osha have taken with him, irks me so bad. I get it. He is Sith, right. Treachery is their way; and what are the darksiders, if not self-serving?

But I feel like the specific phrasing of "the Jedi like you would call me Sith" implies so much about his own unique characterization, and I don't understand why we are glossing over it. It's not a self-identifier. It shows it isn't as much as a title he'd give himself, but a badge he'll wear since in the black/white viewpoint of the Jedi, he is not allowed to be anything more or less. His almost catty, "semantics" hammers in this fact for me, personally.

He strikes me as one who takes what he wants of the Sith code, and disregards the rest. I don't think it's a mistake that even after his reveal, we don't see him with the signature dark side eyes.

I say all this to say; Qimir's ultimate goal is not power, it is FREEDOM. *That* is what he is driven by. He craves to live outside the confines he deems as constrictive/oppressive, and have by his side, someone who wants the same.

So even while disregarding Leslye's interview; I honestly don't know how with what we've been shown in the show so far, aside from him being a sith, makes people think otherwise.

[tennessoui]

prompt --- meeting in prison au (maybe Anakin is serving a few years for crossing the line in defense of his mom and Obi-Wan is a volunteer teacher/lawyer?)

[this is in response to a prompt game i reblogged a year ago, but hey! wanted some dark obi-wan this evening so i'm finally getting around to it!] [warnings for hints of non-con typical for a prison trope fic where one is a pretty boy, also for dub-con and power imbalance] [obi-wan is another prisoner here] [supposedly] [2k]

It’s not actually something one asks here, which comes as a surprise to Anakin. He’d thought—well, he’d always assumed that was just something you traded in prison, like deathsticks and dirty holos maybe. Information, what are you in for.

Anakin had been worried that first night in his cell, mind shuffling through a cascade of concerns and memories and landing on one that seemed inconsequential, stacked as it was against the other contents of his life, but gripped him with a fear he hadn’t felt since he was small. What would he say, when they asked him what he was in for? 

Massacre is what’s written on the record. It’s some variation of the truth as well, though Anakin can’t even remember his own crime. Just the sting of the sand, the heat of the dying day, the blood on his hands. Mostly true, though Anakin thinks of it still as justice. Vengeance. The reality of bartering on Tatooine. A life for a life. A village for a mother. 

He could say massacre. As far as crimes go, it’s one that carries weight, could earn him a certain amount of respect among his fellow criminals. 

But then they would ask him how he did it. He isn’t necessarily small, but he’s hardly a man. Nineteen years old and lanky with it. His master used to assure him that he would grow sturdier with age, grow into his frame. 

His master hadn’t even looked at him once during the trial. It had been the security guards on Coruscant who had cut his braid.

So his fellow criminals would ask how he did it, how he killed an entire village of Tuskens when he is nothing but a nineteen year old boy.

And he would have nothing to say. Because being a Jedi…even just a Jedi padawan, even just a failed, ex-Jedi…it would attract too much attention. Too much of the wrong sort of attention. After all, the Jedi Order was probably responsible for half the prison sentences of the criminals here, and Anakin doesn’t think that any criminal would be able to just set that aside. Even if Anakin had barely had a hand in any sort of galactic-wide justice.

Even if the Jedi Order and Anakin don’t exactly agree on what justice is.

So he’d been afraid, that first night in his cell. Afraid and made powerless by the Force suppression cuffs locked tight around each wrist. Afraid that they would ask, that others would find out that he used to be a Jedi and punish him for it. Beat him as if they could beat their captors through him.

But no one asked.

Apparently, information like that isn’t shared or bartered. No one actually seemed that interested. And no one asked that first day. Not that first week. Oh, Anakin was told sometimes what other people did, how they came to be here, the length of their sentence. But only by the criminal themselves. There were rumors he heard about others, sometimes. That was all.

It eases some of the fear he feels that first week, that no one calls him as a Jedi, that no one seems to care about his past.

And with that fear taken care of, he has room to realize something else.

He’s pretty—and those in his cellblock have taken to noticing.

It’s nothing much at first. Lingering stares on his face, his lips, during mealtime. Lingering stares during the communal sonics. Out in the rec rooms. In the yards. He has no cellmate, at least, an empty bunk on top of him at night.

Thank the Force for small mercies.

Lingering stares turn into loud whispers that make Anakin want to scream. Perhaps the Force suppression bracelets smother his connection with the Force, but they do little to dim his Force-gifted hearing. It’s indecent. It’s skin crawling, what they say.

It’s also incredibly useful. Surprisingly so.

“Don’t know why I gotta respect some sleemo’s claim,” he hears from across the yards as he bends down to put the weights he’d been using back on their rack. “Man’s not even in the block and the boy’s mouth’s made for it.”

“You don’t have to,” someone else says in response as Anakin forces himself to keep his shoulders relaxed and low. He feels like prey. A piece of meat, ready for the taking. “That’s your grave dug though. It’s not just any sleemo. It’s fucking Sol who’s got his name on him.” 

“Fucking Sol,” the guy repeats with angry passion. “Been here two months and he thinks he owns the place.”

Two months. Where was Anakin two months ago? On Coruscant. At the beginning of his trial. Realizing too late that he’d done something he would not be able to undo. 

“--cut off a guy’s arm with a sharpened piece of plastoid,” the other man is saying when Anakin tunes back in. “Cause he was fucking bored. He can own this shithole all he wants. I’m not getting on the wrong side of him. Even for a round at Skywalker’s ass.”

Anakin beats a hasty retreat from the yards after that, though he can’t help but turn the new information over in his head.

He’d been wondering when the heated stares from the other prisoners would turn into attempts to—touch him. It’d been growing as a fear in the back of his mind. Without the Force, his defenses were shot. He was strong and well-muscled, but some of his fellow prisoners could almost certainly hold him down.

But apparently—they won’t.

Because someone else—some mysterious prisoner, Sol—already has first dibs.

The thought makes Anakin shiver, and it keeps him up for half the night. 

“You’re up rather late,” a voice murmurs through the cell wall a few hours into his restless pacing. The sound jolts Anakin into sudden stillness. “Oh, no, please don’t stop on my account, darling,” the voice says.

Anakin blinks. That’s a Coruscanti accent, though the prison is located in the middle of nowhere on the edge of the mid-rim. “What do you want?” he snaps automatically, arms crossing as he stares at the wall in front of him. On edge. Prey. Powerless.

“To talk,” the man says. “Obviously.”

Anakin’s eyes narrow of their own accord and he steps closer. “No one’s been in that cell before,” he states. “You’re new.”

“Oh, well done, you,” the man replies in a tone Anakin can’t decide is grating or pleasing. “You’re an observant one, aren’t you, Anakin?”

“How did you know my name?”

“Darling, the whole prison knows your name, I’m sure,” the man says with a chuckle that makes Anakin’s skin dimple. Fear? “Though I would hazard to say I know a little bit more than they do.”

“What do you mean.”

“Your past, darling. Your Jedi roots.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Anakin snaps, even as his heart rate picks up. Jedi. He hasn’t heard that word in ages. He never wanted to hear it again. This man knows. This man knows.

Danger. Danger.

“I can hear your pulse from here, Anakin,” the man says, sounding calm. Sounding amused. Anakin blinks at the wall in front of him. Danger. Danger.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says again.

“Hm,” the man says. “You’re afraid, I take it. Of others finding out.”

Anakin pinches his lips together, quiet. Silent.

“No need for that though,” the man says, as if this is a conversation between two friends—not one of Anakin’s worst nightmares brought to life. “You are under my protection.”

The words make Anakin’s stomach drop. “Sol.”

“To some,” the man—Sol—agrees. “I’d rather like it if you called me Obi-Wan though. Obi-Wan Kenobi. For now at least.”

Anakin sneers though the other man can’t see it. His heart races even faster now. Sol—one of the most dangerous men in the prison, if not the most dangerous one. Sol—the man whose name carries enough weight that he was able to claim Anakin as his own—what, bitch? What, plaything?---even from another block of the prison.

Sol, who somehow managed to get transferred between blocks, to the cell right next to Anakin’s own.

Who wants Anakin. 

For what?

“What do you want from me?” Anakin whispers. He clears his throat, tries again, louder this time and more insistent. “What do you want from me?” “I do think that is for me to know, darling, and for you to find out,” Sol—Kenobi—replies, tone light. Amused still. “But we can start with the simplest thing. Tomorrow morning, during our recreational hour in the yard, I would like you to come to me.”

“No kriffing way—”

“So you would like them to know of your past, darling? I’m sure I could forget myself. I’m sure I could…renege my claim rather easily. If you would prefer a more…brutal touch. Touches.”

Anakin’s skin crawls. The meaning and the threat in Kenobi’s words is clear. Either Anakin does as he is told or the other man will take away the protection currently keeping Anakin unmolested. And he’ll tell the others that Anakin was a Jedi. How many would jump at the chance to fuck a Jedi?

It’s not an option. It’s not a future Anakin would survive. He knows this.

But can he really—submit himself to another man, to this man? This dangerous, cruel man?  

“I don’t know anything about you,” he says roughly. “I don’t…”

“You will learn,” Kenobi says, dark promise coloring his words. “I will be beneath the chromometer. Tomorrow in the yard. You will come to me then.”

“Do you wish for me to crawl?” Anakin snarls, anger and powerlessness raging through him. His fist hits the wall between him and his executioner. It changes nothing. 

“Did I ask you to?” Kenobi snaps back, voice sharp as a blade. A moment passes. Another. The man lets out a breath and then says, “I do not want a dog, Anakin.”

“Then what do you want?” Anakin asks again, voice breaking under the weight of it all. He has always hated traps. He has always hated being powerless. Imprisoned.

Kenobi is silent as he appears to mull over the question. “I want an apprentice.”

Anakin has no idea what to say to that, and so he says nothing. Kenobi too is quiet. He remains so for the rest of the night.

In the morning, when Anakin is released from his cell after a sleepless night, he looks automatically to his left, but the door to Kenobi’s cell stays shut with no indication that there’s anyone in there.

He comforts himself with the thought that perhaps he imagined the whole affair up until the moment he is led into the yards during the morning rec hour.

It is immediately and painfully obvious which of the prisoners is Obi-Wan Kenobi. Sol. Even without the instructions that he’d been given, Anakin thinks he would be able to pick out the other man, just from how the others treat him.

Sol stands alone, back against the far side’s prison wall, ankles crossed and a deathstick in his hand. No one gets within several meters of him, giving him a wide berth. Out of respect? Fear? Both?

Anakin swallows.

This is not the man he thought he’d be when he was younger. This is not who he wanted to become.

But somehow he is here. Somehow this is the man he has become. Somehow, after a decade of freedom, he has been found by a new master.

Sol’s eyes flash golden in the weak sunlight as he watches Anakin approach him slowly. He tilts his face to examine him, to look at Anakin examining him in turn. His beard is neat and well-kept, as red as his rather long coppery hair. His smile is crooked when Anakin stops in front of him. He’s shorter than Anakin. It feels like a hollow victory, especially when the man plucks his death stick from his mouth and places it between Anakin’s lips.

“Good boy,” Obi-Wan purrs and Anakin feels a roar of emotions roar up in him at the words. Sickness. Hatred. Anger. 

And strangely, out of place and unexpected, a thrill of excitement.

[is-that-sand-in-my-waffles]

Obi-Wan, to any and every Sith in his vicinity:

[darth-kote]

this may just be me but i really wish we could have seen more of dooku pre-sith. it was so satisfying to see him and padawan-age qui-gon together in tales of the jedi.

i am never not thinking about the cruciality of the master/apprentice relationships in sw. it's more than just having a teacher or a student; they form lifelong bonds and pass down the knowledge they've learned from previous generations to their predecessors - all with their own life-experiences and perspectives in mind. there's room for interpretation and breaking apart from things you thought could not be debated.

but there is, of course, also room for manipulation and deceit in these relationships.

edit: the word i was looking for was family.

[renesassing]

Revan decides they want Anakin as a Sith apprentice how cooked is he

i mean. even setting aside all of my accurate and true and galaxy-brained personal lore about revan, they are someone who canonically was so effective + charismatic as a leader that only a SINGLE jedi who followed them into the mandalorian wars left them at the end of it— the jedi exile. and putting the jedi aside, a large swath of republic forces followed them as well. not just into the unknown regions, but also to creating their own faction and waging war against the republic. if revan wanted anakin as a sith apprentice he would be more cooked than he was at the end of episode iii. and that's just with what we're working with via canon.

that being said i think the window of revan's life in which they'd want anakin as a sith apprentice is very small. revan's skill is in turning people to their side, not the dark side.

[pararararablof]

In darkness and blood 🩸

【I literally finished this without knowing tales of the empire trailer is coming today now I’m over the moon】

[pileofsith]

Nameless Part Twelve - Apostate Page 2/10 I'm sorry, the only way to visually show Barriss successfully making an ideological transmission towards the future Grand Inquisitor was to make them gaze at each other like two sad wet seals. Text is taken from the TCW episode, ‘The Wrong Jedi’. The comic is also available here on AO3.

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[jewishcissiekj]

I love (hate) how Dark Disciple Clone Wars arc & the book acknowledged Asajj's character and depth like once or twice then called it a day. They did not care for her other than that, she was only there to uplift Quinlan's character the rest of it

Now this. This right here. It could've been everything. This is probably my favorite moment from that godawful arc/book. But nooooo a moment later Quinlan shows up and ruins my life like every time and Asajj almost dies 2 times because ofc

[dathomirdumpsterfire]

odd tho, that right at the finish line to the revenge of the sith (a thousand years in the making) sheev would send maul to fight some jedi on naboo, right? when by all means he got the result he wanted from the jedi 'winning' that conflict. big risk of discovery innit?

unless that wasn't about the planet at all. unless sheev wanted maul to fight qui-gon, specifically. ya know, sith historically love pitting apprentices against each other...

...and qui-gon was all about the prophecy of the chosen one, right?

and like, there's only a few canon sith, versus a metric ton of jedi. fifty thousand or something?

cool.

... what did everyone think 'balance' meant?

yeah so, what IF qui-gon knew what kind of monster anakin was going to become.

what IF qui-gon was another sith apprentice.

what if that duel was 'who gets to train anakin' and either way the jedi lose?

lil ani, destined to bring balance to the force? well. he did. in a manner of speaking.

anyhoo. sith qui-gon au, amirite?

[funnypansexualanimorph]

I'm extremely tired. I think I slept 12 minutes last night. By the way when did you clone yourself, Apprentice? The two of you are giving me a headache.

[redbean-nom]

au that's the opposite of a time travel fixit. angry baby boba ends up in phantom menace and blows up the temple trying to kill windu. revan, malak (alek/squint), and cassus get deposited into the mandalore arc in tcw. jedi dooku and qui gon get launched into the middle of the death star throne room.

[forlouren]

I am honestly partial to the idea of Darth Plagueis' being Qimir's Sith Master─although I could understand that had it been confirmed in an interview instead of revealed in the show itself, that could be disappointing─It doesn't worsen, or better Qimir's chance of survival. Plagueis is going to crash in on their [ Osha and Qimir ] party either way, seeing as they are all on the same planet, and he has interest in the concept of life created by the Force.

Qimir is evidently a practitioner of Darth Bane's teachings, even if loosely so, seeing he recites the Sith code to Mae. He lives beneath a cortosis mine in an unknown planet, which I could only assume is a callback/reference to Darth Tenebrous' ( Plagueis' master ) who owned a claim of cortosis in a planet named Bal'demnic in the EU. Plagueis having a former apprentice before Palpatine doesn't ruin anything important either. Nor do I think it contradicts any of Qimir's unorthodox-sith characterization, or my earlier reading of such.

If Qimir is the apprentice of Plagueis; it would re-contextualize his want for an acolyte somewhat, I suppose. But there is poetry in that in the rejection from the mother, he ran into the teeth of the beast to feel held, and even in that, he didn't find absolution. So naturally, he'll seek another path.

[tricksterscorvid]

*cough* new project hahaha.. cannot post the full draw as it's very much not tumblr safe 🤣

Also.. uh.. my first Star Wars fanart of actual canon characters (I have been... intimidated to put it into words)

[currentlyonstandbi]

george lucas should have left this scene in the final cut because it slaps HARD

[dethberrie]

i give up trying to figure out a western style… back to my roots. anyway, now it's same-age-padawan!au completely rotting my brain, and if i can't have this concept in rp form, then i'll settle with my dumb art 🤡