#so all the obi wans here have his rots hair in my imagination

[anakin-dovahkiin]

Hi! My favorite is Anakin x Fluffy Reader. I would like Anakin Rots , where he is anxious to meet his girl after a long mission. Something like Ani takes her on a date on another planet , Alderaan or Naboo .

Alpenglow (I've Missed You)

Summary: Anakin comes back from rescuing the Chancellor only to notice that you are stationed on Alderaan and not currently home. Obi-Wan pulled some strings so he could visit you, and in no time Anakin finds you. He decides to set up something nice for the both of you in the mountains, where you witness a beautiful sunset.

Notes: Thank you so much for the request! Reader can be GN, and can be a Jedi or senator or really anything, it's pretty ambiguous. I feel like Alderaan would be super pretty, and the "alpenglow" phenomenon would definitely happen here. Anakin is so soft and loves you so much!! (Warnings: None!)

You can’t believe how lucky you were to be stationed in Alderaan for the past couple of months, especially during the planets summer cycle. 

Coruscant is your home now, yes, but it was rather often that you wished to be outside in the mountains and trees amongst nature. You have every intention of making up for lost time while you are here, but each time you try to embark on a hike to admire the scenery, you feel as though you can’t go on. You don’t want to go just yet, knowing how much more your love would desire to be amongst all the greenery and streams and lush landscapes than you could possibly imagine.

A spike of fear runs through you. Anakin could be another few months on his campaign, and for all you know he could be—

You shake the thought from your head. You remind yourself to be mindful, to focus on the present moment, and count all the different songs of birds that you can hear in the grassy clearing where you sit and meditate.



Anakin is alive and well, you can feel it. You may have to suffer without his warm and enveloping presence for awhile yet, but as long as he was safe and working his way to you, you could bear it. 

You settle your heartbeat, taking deeper breaths to the point where you feel as though you are a part of the nature surrounding you—so much so that you don’t notice the footsteps behind you. 

“What are you doing all the way out here?” that melodic voice asks sweetly.

Your eyes snap open, and your breath rises in your chest so fast you feel like you might start floating. Turning around, you see your love, your Anakin, standing a bit awkwardly with the afternoon sunlight bathing him in a soft yellow glow. 

You scramble to your feet and launch yourself into his arms, and your embrace couldn’t be broken apart by even the strongest of forces. You were together, and the world felt like it made sense again.

“You’re here, you’re here, I can’t believe—” you whisper throughout the embrace, threading a hand in his hair and holding him impossibly closer. “How? Your mission—”

“I returned to Coruscant and you weren’t there,” he mutters against the skin of your forehead. You can still sense the thread of melancholy unraveling from him, but the longer he is here with you, the shorter and fainter the thread becomes. But there is something else—some of his panic remains, and you hear it in his voice. “Rescued the Chancellor, but the Council wanted me to spy on him even though Obi-Wan said ‘no’ and then he was sent away… Bail told me you were stationed here, and I wanted to leave, I needed to leave, everything was suffocating… but then Obi was able to grant me a leave for a week! Can you believe it?”

You pull away from him slightly, and he audibly whines. You keep your hands in his hair, only pulling back far enough to look him in the eyes as you speak to him. 

“That’s… a lot. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, I wish I had been… But I suppose I owe Bail and Obi-Wan now for granting my wish they didn’t even know I had.” You giggle, giddy with happiness because he’s here. He is with you, even though you feared the worst. To be honest, some irrational part of you still fears the worst. Your smile wavers, “Are you alright? Were you hurt?”

You caress his face, noting the frown there and wishing you could smooth away the creases with just a swipe of your fingers. He closes his eyes and leans into your touch, and the two of you fall into an embrace once more. It is more gentle than the previous one but is no less intimate. 

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers, and it comes from the depths of his soul, through the Force, through every fiber in the fabric of reality. 

Without you, he would be lost.

“I missed you too, Anakin…” you say, and finally you angle his face down to yours for a chaste kiss. “Even here, where everything is beautiful, I could only think of how much more beautiful it would be with you here, how much you would love it.”

“The green?”

You smile, resting your forehead against his. “Mhm, the green. Your favorite color.”

He lets out a huff of a laugh, cupping your face in his hands. “I love you so much.”

Your smile is bursting at the seams. He’s said it before to you, but there is something about him being here with you in this setting that makes it all more potent. The landscape is stunning, and you feel some sort of longing in your chest become sated as you stand here with Anakin Skywalker in your embrace, protecting you from the galaxy but also giving you the whole galaxy with just those words.

“I love you,” you whisper, your eyes stinging and your vision becomes a bit blurry so you look down at the ground in hopes it would clear away. 

Anakin tilts your chin up to look at him, and this movement lets tears leak from your eyes. He catches them with his thumbs. “What is it?”

You feel slightly embarrassed—you’re grown, independent, but being reunited with him is like finding your childhood blanket that you lost forever. You have more faith in Anakin, know that he would survive the war, but the fear of losing him affects you more than you thought.

“I’ve missed you… I worry for you and I am so, so happy you are here with me.”

He grins. “I have something for you. I know how much you love the mountains, so I set something up for us…”

No way. “Stop! You did not—”

He grabs your hand and leads you through the brush until you reach higher ground and another clearing that lies above the treetops so you can see the snow capped mountains all around you, standing tall like they were keeping watch. 

It is sunset, and the light bounds from mountain to mountain, bathing the slopes in shades of purple, pink, and orange.

There’s a blanket laid on he ground with a bucket of your favorite snacks from your apartment on Coruscant.

“I was so anxious to see you, and I know how much you love relaxing at home, so I figured I would bring a bit of home to you!” He says, but then he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “At least, I think these are your favorite snacks…”

You both sit on the blanket, and you sit in his lap with your back pressed flush against his chest. 

You tilt your head up to press a kiss to his jaw. “This is my home. Right here. With you, and looking out at the alpenglow. It’s only so beautiful because you’re so beautiful.”

He smiles again, but scrunches his eyebrows. “‘Alpenglow’? I’ve never heard that before.”

“Well, now you have. You’re looking at it right now.”

You watch his sky blue eyes take in the blend of colors before you, and you savor the awed look on his face that is so innocent, so pure.

“You’re my alpenglow,” he says, flicking his eyes to meet yours. His gaze is electric, and you feel like your heart might burst from your chest once again. You know what he meant by that, and you love his affinity for trying to come up with strange metaphors. 

(You’ll never forget the sand one.)

You laugh. “I don’t think that is how you use the word, Anakin.”

“Well it’s how I’m using it. I am a Jedi, I’m always right.”

“Of course, Master Skywalker,” you say, doing your best impression of a Council-member. 

He chuckles, then nuzzles his cheek into the crown of your head. He lets out a long exhale, and all the tension from days, weeks, and months past escapes his body. You are together, you are safe, and you are grounded. 

You’re home.

[willowcrowned]

for the earth!anakin au: but what if time in a gffa and on earth move differently? so like it’s been a lot longer for anakin so when obi wan shows up he’s like prime aotc mullet obi wan and anakin is like... f*ck i Do Not remember him being this hot.

so normally i have zero feelings about obikin whatsoever, but this au was co-created with someone else, and apparently talking to her flips a switch in my brain so that I do have feelings about obikin (most of them because of sentences that start with “hey wouldn’t it be funny if...”), so I am happy to inform you that there isn’t just an obikin version of this au, but several.

Version One (Normal Earth)

 Obi-Wan crash lands when Anakin is twenty two and just out of college. He does not recognize Anakin. Anakin recognizes him. Because he’s a massive slut, his first reaction to Anakin is to try to sleep with him. Repeatedly. Anakin isn’t sure whether to be flattered that Obi-Wan wants to sleep with him, or hurt that Obi-Wan can’t recognize him. (Normally I’d say that Obi-Wan should be let off easy because he clearly has brain damage, but in this case... I mean jesus christ he could just keep it in his pants and it wouldn’t be a problem.) Anakin has a lot of old angst surrounding it— if Obi-Wan doesn’t recognize Anakin, does that mean he’s forgotten him? Does that mean he never cared enough to begin with? Anakin has many spiraling angst sessions. 

When Obi-Wan finds out, he panics. I’m talking breathing into a paper bag in a closet for three hours panicking. He does not stop. (That’s his PADAWAN and he doesn’t even RECOGNIZE him!! Has it really been so long? Is he really such a bad person? And Obi-Wan tried to have SEX with him, completely incognizant of any damage he might be doing. How could he do this? How could he hurt Anakin like this.) On the upside, seeing Obi-Wan freak out really lends Anakin some perspective on how unstable the guy is, and makes him feel a LOT better about... everything.

Version Two (Normal Earth)

Anakin is twenty two and just out of college. He’s dating a grad student. This grad student is ginger, is surprisingly ripped under his sweatervests, and has piercing blue eyes and an English accent. (It’s worth noting that in this AU Basic and English aren’t the same language. Anakin is just Like That.) When Obi-Wan shows up, he is immediately protective of his padawan, which he attributes to latent parental instinct. (It is not latent parental instinct, which, pardon me, Obi-Wan didn’t even have in the first place.) Neither he nor Anakin notice the fact that Anakin’s boyfriend is startlingly similar to Obi-Wan. They do, however, bicker about him constantly. While glaring passionately at each other. With full eye contact. While moving closer and closer together. 

Obi-Wan hits his breaking point around the time he sees Anakin meditating shirtless, at which point the lust he’s been suppressing finally overwhelms Obi-Wan’s ability to repress things, which he’s been perfecting for decades. Honestly, it’s almost impressive. Neither of them ever realize that Obi-Wan is apparently Anakin’s type to a T. Anakin’s boyfriend does, and before breaking up with him, he gives Obi-Wan a copy of a summary of Freudian theory. You know, just for fun. (He’s not above a little pettiness, and Obi-Wan quite frankly deserves the breakdown.)

Version Three (DC Earth— Anakin isn’t brothers with Clark Kent)

 Please bear in mind I know next to nothing about DC.

Anakin moves to Gotham after college. Instead of being a normal person, he decides to become a typical masked vigilante— he dresses up as a Jedi and goes around stopping crime like the rest of Gotham’s jamokes. When Bruce Wayne cottons on to the fact that there’s a young traumatized extremely athletic vigilante, he adopts him. Anakin does try to bite him. Bruce is still endeared. 

When Obi-Wan shows up, he has a lot of emotions. First and foremost— “Anakin, are those leather tabards? You know Jedi don’t wear leather, right?” “Shut up.” “I was just—” “No. Shut up.” He is also very... worried when he hears about Batman.

There’s two ways the ensuing conversation with Bruce goes:

1) Obi-Wan believes Bruce really has adopted Anakin, and is there to have a Dad Talk with him— make sure Anakin is doing alright, that he’s eating vegetables, sleeping enough, etc. Bruce, on the other hand, has seen Anakin drooling over Obi-Wan, and has concluded that Obi-Wan and Anakin are fucking (which, fine, whatever, Anakin is an adult), so the conversation for him is a shovel talk.

2) Obi-Wan believes Bruce is Anakin’s sugar daddy. He stalks over to the manor, hair resplendent, lightsaber out, ready for some... negotiations. Bruce believes he’s there for a Dad Talk. The conversation goes sideways immediately.

In both situations, Anakin is horrified, and also mildly turned on because Obi-Wan is clearly so into him. (Obi-Wan has not realized this yet. His brain explodes when he does.)

.

There are more than this, but these are the ones I feel qualified to recount. I don’t know enough about DC to talk about the other ones, but I think in one of them Obi-Wan joins a group of anti-heroes and he and Anakin become nemeses but in a fun way

[cluelessgurl]

One shot

A/N: This is literally something random that popped in my head lmao so here it is. Also if there are any grammar mistakes please let me know :)

Pairing: Vader X Female Reader

Summary: A mysterious sith reader follows the orders of her master to collect Vader from his failure at Mustafar.

Warnings: Descriptions of pain, burning, overall angst.

Vader laid there helplessly as his every inch of his body seared and charred, a pain that he knew would haunt him all his life if he somehow survived this. He felt weak, not only physically as he utilized his newly developed powers of the dark side to keep his now unfathomably pained body alive, but also mentally. He felt ashamed that he had been so vulnerable, left to rot and burn as though he were an old letter that held no more sentiment by the man he had once regarded his father.. his brother. He felt weak. Although his anger had reached a platform he could have never imagined, he felt weak. He had screamed and screamed until his throat had slowly eroded enough from the immense heat of the lava that he had no choice but to mute. He was left to sustain his life yet, he had no idea how much longer he could prevail, he felt no one was coming for him as he finally gave in and let his head fall to the scalding surface, letting out weary breathes.

Till he heard footsteps scurry, his initial thought was that Obi-wan had returned so save him, like he always had when they had be been brothers. But there was no sense of urgency in these footsteps. They seemed calculated, most importantly, it was not Obi-wan’s familiar presence in the force , but completely unknown to him. They approached closer and closer till they halted neatly to a safe distance. “Wh..who ar-are you” Vader muttered, yet again in a wretchedly weak manner. However, the stranger did not respond. Vader attempted to raise his head for his blurred eyes to see them yet he failed to do so. The stranger did not move , made no sound until they gently lifted using the force, wrapping around him until Vader shifted from the depths of fire to the ground Obi-Wan once held . Only then did they speak, with a conviction and depth Vader had not experienced before. “My master shall see you now” and when he heard those words he finally managed to lay his eyes on her. She stood there towering above his body, hands pinned behind her. She was dressed in black robes, a lightsaber clipped to her side as her dark hair cascaded down with a face that held no emotion. However Vader could not avoid her most prominent feature, her piercing yellow eyes of the sith. She emanated sheer strength, and power that he had never experienced before, he would have compared this power to himself if he had not been weak enough to end up in such an inferior position; pain was still striking his body from every part making him writhe in agony , she noticed this. With those same furiously yellow eyes looking down at him, she placed him on the med carrier, with no movement yet utilising the force when she abruptly turned around, hands yet pinned to her back and uttered no other words as she took him his fate.

[obiwanobi]

Ok but can you imagine a world where RoTS never happened, palps died during the battle of Coruscant, and Anakin left the jedi while in the midst of the war. Skip years later, and the war was ending or something, and padme’s invited back for treaties and such. Bail’s now the chancellor and everything.

With Bail as leader, you know the jedi would definitely have a representative aka Obi Wan. So it’ll be the first time in years they’ve seen in each other in person (anakin cut off contact cuz he was scared obi wan hated him. Obi wan did it cuz he thought he failed anakin and didn’t want to bother him). The years have been kind to Obi Wan, and he even has a new padawan. A smart, snarky, well-behaved human padawan, who looked at Obi Wan like he hung all the moons.

Cue Anakin getting jealous of a 12 year old

I love post-rots AU where Palpatine dies 💁‍♀️

I can see Anakin announcing his decision to leave the Order during a Council meeting after Grievous was killed, thinking that the war is almost over. The room is shocked, Obi-Wan, who has been back on Coruscant for half a minute and was certain that everything would start getting better now is stunned, and when asked what's prompting this Anakin casually says "I love my wife and we're expecting a child, so, you know" and it's a good thing Obi-Wan is already sitting down because, sure, he loves Padmé, no surprise here, but a wife? a CHILD??? DOES YOUR JEDI VOWS MEAN NOTHING TO YOU, YOU IDIOT

It's a bit of a mess after that, everyone is busy dealing with the end of the war, some weird Sith artefacts have been found at the late Chancellor's apartment, Obi-Wan is called to do a lot of clean-up in the Outer Rim, and they don't have time to talk about it. It's mostly a question of timing, really, because Obi-Wan leaves urgently in the night and Padmé is talking about going back to Naboo to give birth close to her family, so... Anakin ends up leaving the Temple for good while Obi-Wan is away.

Master Yoda makes it a small but almost nice event, thanking him for his service in front of the Council, and Anakin is actually quite touched to see all its members rise and bow to him before wishing him the best. Mace even puts a hand on his shoulder and gravely says "if your child is Force-sensitive, please, please don't bring them here, I don't think anyone can handle another Skywalker so soon," and even smiles when Anakin laughs at that.

Obi-Wan's absence doesn't bother them too much; they all expect him and Anakin to keep in touch anyway. Depa even jokes that she can already see Obi-Wan trying to bribe her to take his classes so he can go babysit for a day.

(When Obi-Wan comes back a few weeks later and asks for Anakin, it's Depa who has to tell him that he's already gone.)

(His face tells her that Anakin never talked about babysitting with him.)

Flash forward to a few years later, where Anakin comes to like, a Senate party or an official event as Padmé's husband with their children. He's been careful enough to avoid Obi-Wan all these years because he's certain that Obi-Wan is terribly disappointed in him, and also because he feels almost guilty for never trying to get in touch with him. Padmé has tried to get him to send a comm, really tried, but the only time Anakin accepts to talk about Obi-Wan is when he's telling bedtime stories to Luke and Leia, and that's it.

So it's a bit awkward when Anakin goes to look for his children who have suddenly disappeared in the middle of the reception and find them kneeling in a corner of a corridor, teaching what is clearly a young padawan a complicated hand-clapping game. They must have been here for a while now because the padawan has memorised most of the song, even if Leia keeps correcting her left hand on some of the gestures.

Anakin has to admit that it's a bit cute, that's probably why he asks if he can join too, even laughs and reassures the little Jedi when she looks a bit embarrassed to be caught in such a silly position. Anyone who can hold his children's attention for that long and stay patient with them is a gift from the Force.

He's so engrossed in the game that he's almost surprised when someone clears their throat above him.

He's even more surprised after raising his head up and finding Obi-Wan's face blinking at him.

Anakin can only blink back for a few seconds. He never expected that he would see his master again while sitting on the floor of an empty corridor, clapping hands with Luke and a padawan and singing about three little loth-cats going to the market.

It's a lot to take in, and Obi-Wan is still watching him, and it's his master right here, and he looks so composed and way more relaxed than during the war, and his eyes that he hasn't seen in years are still on Anakin, and oh Force, he really missed seeing this face, and—

"You have a lot of grey hair," Anakin lies, and immediately regrets it.

He can hear the Padawan gasping next to him.

Somehow, Obi-Wan doesn't look impressed.

[obaewankenobis]

for forever — obi-wan kenobi

pairing(s)  :  obi-wan kenobi x reader ( mostly focused on obi-wan’s character, not the relationship because i am a hoe for this man )

summary  :  after the fall of the jedi order, you can finally be together. alternatively, obi-wan needs therapy/deserves happiness.

word count  :  2.1k

warning(s)  :  character death, a bit of angst i guess but it’s mostly fluff.

notes   :  roughly edited so i apologize if things don’t make sense, i honestly came up with this on a whim and have No Idea what was going through my head when i wrote this. the povs also switch a lot but enjoy </3.

       The sand bit at his fair skin, the grainy winds of Tatooine ruffled through his auburn locks, peppered with strands of grey, as Obi-Wan Kenobi stood, rigid and grief stricken. Kind wrinkles framed his eyes, eyes weighed down by exhaustion and desolation, the memory of a thousand wars flickering in the brilliant blue reflection. Without speaking, the woman looking at him from afar knew he had suffered a lifetime of hardship and grief, his aching heart not given a moment to mourn the loss of those closest to him. The mahogany cloak billowed around his body, covering the burnt, tattered tan robes he wore, as the wind picked up, signaling there would be little time before the twin suns set and it was much too dangerous to be outside. Snuggled between the lone man’s arms, swathed in soft cream blankets to shelter him from the cruel and unforgiving weather, was a baby. With sea blue eyes and the sparse tufts of pale blonde hair, the newborn was the mirror image of his father — that in itself was bittersweet.

       Fire. That was all Obi-Wan could remember, the smoldering lava confining him and his enemy — once his friend, his brother — inside a tight circle of flashing blue and blazing rage. Now, things were blissfully quiet, as if the universe was trying to give him peace of mind after what it had taken from him. With heavy shoulders and hollow eyes, Obi-Wan was a shell of who he used to be: a great warrior and an excellent negotiator, all gone. His last mission was here, on Tatooine, to deliver the baby to his aunt and uncle: Owen and Beru Lars. Then, he would spend the rest of his years wasting away in a sandy prison, languishing in his defeat.

       “Is it true?” The woman from afar, who had taken to staring at him from a distance, finally approached him, awaiting his answer with bated breath — Beru. Is it true? The words reverberated in his head, as the reality came crashing down upon him. The woman in front of him needed certainty, she needed answers, answers Obi-Wan could not give her.

       “Yes,” came the final reply. Who knew a single word could hold such heavy meaning? Yes. An entire government who’s history spanned hundreds of years prior collapsed within a single day? Yes, that had happened. His religion, who he had devoted his entire life to and poured his soul into, gone? Yes, decimated without a sliver of mercy. The baby’s father, the hero of the galaxy, the crown jewel of the Jedi Order, killed? Yes, murdered in cold blood.

       Beru finally brought her attention to the boy nestled within the robes of the man. “Is he . . . ” She seemed to only speak in half questions, as if finishing the sentence would make it a harsh reality, and leaving the query to hang heavy in the air would somehow leave her life in a fairytale.

       “Yes,” he replied again, nearly choking on his words as the boy let out a tiny coo, as if he sensed they were discussing him.

       “Oh.” There was a pause, a flicker of hesitation, before the woman decided to continue her pattern of half inquiries to form her own story. “May I?” With shaking arms, Beruu reached forward to take the boy from Obi-Wan’s grasp and welcome the baby into her own warm embrace. Part of him didn’t want to let the child go, for once he did he would have no real connection to his past life. Letting go of the boy meant letting go of everything, from his first steps in the Temple, to his meeting with his apprentice on Naboo, to the countless, sleepless nights in a war torn galaxy, it would all be gone. The woman’s tender smile and patient gaze was nearly patronizing, she was trying to sympathize with something she couldn’t possibly understand. No one could. A wave of fury washed over him, trapping him in a cage of his own emotions. Obi-Wan had never felt such an intensity roll over his body, preferring to keep his temperament a tranquil, emotionless pit. But this raw, uncontrollable fury was soon washed out with an even more overpowering bout of sorrow, shaking him with such force it made his knees wobble and threaten to give way. For over thirty years he was taught emotions were the enemy, by being detached and aloof he would survive, and look where that had gotten him.  

      Another soft cry from the baby jerked Obi-Wan back into the present moment, as his tiny arms reached for the woman, drawn to her sunny kindness and comforting aura; he realized a place to call home or a comforting shoulder to cry on was never something he could offer as the baby grew older. The woman made a small clicking sound with her tongue, looking up at Obi-Wan with an expectant gaze, and yet his grip on the baby remained the same. Although his mind seemed desperate to listen to logic, to reason, his body remained motionless, following the dull ache and painful longing in his heart. The battle between his mind and emotions lasted a fraction of a second, and at last, as it had time and time again, his mind won.

       Like he had done all his life, selflessly sacrificing himself for thee good of the galaxy, he let go.

     The woman took the baby in her arms, and began her journey back to her homestead, pausing just slightly to exchange one last parting smile and a word of comfort. “I think someone wants to see you, Master Kenobi.” With that, Beru began walking, a happy baby in her arms, to her husband, just as the sky merged from clear blue to salmon pink and hazy orange, the twin suns beginning to disappear over the horizon rapidly. As the light dimmed and dusk settled in, the man could make out the shadowy figures of Beru and Owen Lars, holding Luke Skywalker in unmoving content.

       Here to see me? Obi-Wan frowned, reflecting on the woman’s words. This was not his home, his very identity was supposed to remain a secret, who could possibly want to see him? Unless . . .

       No, that was impossible. He had mourned your death just as he had mourned every other Jedi’s death the moment their own clones turned against them, and he would not allow even a tiny sliver of hope to crawl its way back into his heart. Because in the end, he could only cling to the belief that things would get better, and false hope in such a desperate time would be his undoing.

—

       You wondered how long you could stand in the shadows before he noticed you, standing awkwardly by his dewback as he delivered Padmé and Anakin's son to his new family. Like Obi-Wan, you had suffered the loss of everything and everyone you knew, your entire life destroyed in the span of a second, and all you could do was stand there, watching everything burn. The Jedi robes you once wore with pride, robes that were once a symbol of humility and hope across the galaxy, now put a priceless bounty on the head of anyone who wore them.

       “Obi-Wan?” The name was dry in your throat, mouth parched and lips cracked due to the harsh Tatooine heat.

       Though he was always subtle, you could see his entire demeanor change, the way his shoulders became straighter, the way his hands, once balled up into fists of worry, were now relaxed and laying loosely at his side. In a moment, he had turned around and closed the distance between the two of you, caramel boots growing dull and scuffed as he stepped through the unforgiving desert surface beneath him. “You’re alive,” his voice came out in a hushed, cautious tone, disbelief still tainting the edges. “I thought — Yoda and I — the only ones left — ” his words grew more jumbled with each passing phrase that left his lips.

       “But I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” you cut him off, the calm gentleness of your tone making him stop in his tracks. Slowly, each movement pained and deliberate, you stepped closer, inching your way forward until he was right in front of you. Neither of you could look away; with the Jedi Order dead, there was no reason to hide in secrecy now.

—

       To realize he was not alone was comforting, but to know it was you he could seek company in was freeing. In that moment, with the distance so close between your bodies, Obi-Wan dared not breathe, his eyes fluttering shut as he let out the smallest of breaths — this was all he had ever wanted, and still, despite everything, it was something he believed he could never have.

       He wouldn’t allow himself to believe it. Not after he spent all those years repressing the desire that burned so deeply within him it began to rot within his heart, trapped with no release in sight. At one point, he had every reason to deny the yearning stirring within him, but now? Now there was no war, no Council, no code, no nothing to stop himself from unleashing decades of pent up turmoil within him.

       And stars, it was suffocating.

       He couldn’t do this.

       “You know you don’t have to push me away any more.” A suggestion more than a factual statement; voice thick and barely audible.

       Was this a dream, a fantasy meant to be chased after in his sleep? Or some sick, twisted premonition the Force was trying to convey to him? So many nights he had spent languishing in his loneliness, dazed in a delusion that remained but a figment of his imagination.

       “I know.”

       “What?”

       “The Jedi are no more. We . . . We don’t have to pretend we don’t have  — ” The words were bittersweet on his tongue; even with no one there to watch and scold him, he could not betray his way of life so easily. That everyone I have ever loved, I have watched die in my arms? And throughout all of that, I have never been tempted by the dark side, but if I lost you, I would be afraid of my own morality? Those were not easy thoughts to formulate into a coherent sentence — there were no words Obi-Wan could say that would even begin to describe how he felt.

       Instead, in a tender gesture of vulnerability, he reached out through the Force, and all at once it came crashing down on him.

       This feeling . . . it was all consuming, and he was drowning, struggling to keep his head above water and not surrender to its frosty depths. He was submerged in an endless stretch of icy ocean water so frigid and numbing, that he felt nothing and everything all at once. It was terrifying to think — and let you know — you held so much power over him, but in the same instance, he felt at peace, like a weight he had dragged around for decades was finally lifted off his shoulders. I love you, rang as bright as the city lights on Coruscant and as clear as a Nabooian waterfall. I love you.

       “I love you, too.” He heard your voice in a soft whisper, swelled up with emotion as you took in everything. Chills erupted down his spine; he couldn't quite tell if it was from the inky blanket being tugged across the sky as dusk descended into nightfall, or if it was the four word phrase that left your lips.

—

       “I cannot live without you,” Obi-Wan let out a shaky exhale, breath fanning across your face just slightly, your foreheads making contact in the lightest movements. You felt dizzy, in a dreamlike trance, for you had never been this close to him. You could see every horror he had survived in his glassy blue eyes, notice every perfect imperfection that blemished his skin and made him all the more real. In a moment, his face had become blurred as he closed the distance and finally, finally, his lips were on yours, and you connected in a long awaited, eternally sought after kiss. You could feel his hands, calloused but gentle, cupping your face, as your own fingers found their way to the nape of his neck, the kiss grew more fervent and needy, every rule you had ever lived by crumbling as you melted deeper into his touch.

       After a long moment, you broke away, breathless, your face still tantalizingly close to his.

       “I will never leave you, Obi-Wan,” your lips parted in a determined vow, a promise you would keep to your dying breath. The Jedi were dead, and yet you never felt more alive.

[helbertinelli]

Anidala on Mustafar

The Mustafar scene between Anakin and Padme is one of my favorite Anidala scenes (not in the way that I enjoy watching it, but I enjoy how much thought and details have been put into it). It’s extremely heartbreaking, but it starts out with both of them being very loving towards one another, and then that part happens and it rips your heart out. But the acting for it is absolutely amazing and there’s so many details that go on in that scene. There’s a lot of parallels between this and other Anidala scenes in the movies, I might get into that, or might not, depending on where I go with this.

The way the scene starts is so beautiful, with both of them running towards each other and embracing. Anakin is at this point full Sith basically, and he just killed everyone at the temple and everyone on Mustafar, and we see in previous scenes that his actions are tormenting him. But then he sees Padme and he’s so happy that he sees her and he runs to her and hugs her. This is similar to their first scene in this movie when Anakin comes back from rescuing Palpatine and he runs to Padme and hugs her. We still have Anakin very much in love with Padme at this point and I love that George Lucas had Anakin still be loving to her even after he turned. We see this both after the attack on the temple when he goes to her on her balcony, and then at the beginning of the Mustafar scene. From these we can see that Anakin isn’t all evil, that there’s still a good part to him. Looking at their Mustafar hug but from Padme’s perspective we see that she knows from Obi-Wan that Anakin is behind the temple attack (I’m not entirely clear whether she believes it at this point or not) but she’s still very much in love with Anakin at this point and she’s offering him to run away together. Despite everything that Anakin did, he’s not some villain or some Sith lord to her. He’s just her husband and she needs him in her life because she loves him so much. We see that despite Padme being rational and logical as a senator, she’s letting her emotions guide her whenever Anakin is involved. We see Padme as not just a politician (like we see Bail for example, who has already made plans on how to get the Republic back), but as a person, who is deeply in love and (like Anakin) is willing to give everything up to save that love. Padme going to Mustafar, shows that Anakin is her main priority. It’s not saving the Republic yet, it’s not helping anyone else, but Anakin.

Then the second thing I want to talk about is Padme (again). During the entire scene, she is constantly touching Anakin. She’s caressing his arms, his hair and she holds on to him as they talk. Both Anakin and Padme are very tactile with each other. They express their affection through touches, as we see in other scenes too. I can’t really remember specific scenes of Padme touching Anakin in the movies, but in the AOTC book, she does touch him a lot to express affection even before they are a couple. That’s her way of telling him that she loves him, so her constant touches on Mustafar, is basically Padme repeating to Anakin over and over and over again that she loves him.

Then there’s Anakin’s speech about ruling the galaxy with Padme and this is a contrast I guess, to their first scene in ROTS again. In their first meeting, Padme is worried about being pregnant and how this will affect them. Anakin smiles at her and reassures her and she’s happy again and smiling too. Then on Mustafar, we have Padme again worried about basically everything that Anakin did and everything else that happened too. Anakin starts his speech about not having to hide anymore (which is something they’ve discussed during their first meeting too... so there’s another callback to that scene) and he’s smiling at her as he rambles on about them ruling together and fixing things. I think his smile here is part Anakin giving in to his delusions and part him trying to reassure Padme that this is a good thing and she has nothing to worry about. However, unlike in their first scene, his smile doesn’t reassure her, but it actually pushes her away from him. It creates more worries and more pain to see him smiling about it. I’m going to go on a tangent here and basically summarize the last 24-ish (or maybe more or less) hours for Padme...

Palpatine, the person she helped indirectly to become Chancellor and indirectly helped him being awarded emergency powers, turned into a tyrant. Anakin killed all the Jedi and turned to the dark side, because of her (she knows this since Anakin basically tells her “I did this for you”). Then Obi-Wan comes out of her ship and as far as Padme knows Obi-Wan is here to kill Anakin and she’s basically responsible for what might happen to Anakin or Obi-Wan (and Anakin does accuse her of this, but I think she is thinking it too because she looks absolutely mortified to see Obi-Wan).

But anyway, ignoring the Obi-Wan parts for now and going back to the post. At this point, Padme probably feels responsible and guilty for what happened, both to the Republic and to Anakin because he said he did this for her (just to make a note here, I don’t think Padme is right in feeling guilty for any of these things because they were all out of her control). And it’s not what she wanted, or how she imagined things would go. She probably feels like she’s failed both Anakin and the Republic. Especially Anakin, because she could see the results of him turning to the dark side right in front of her. Anakin’s smile doesn’t soothe her like it used to, but it causes her pain because of what he has become.

Then we have Padme’s speech about Anakin breaking her heart and it’s very similar in a way to her AOTC speech to him on Naboo after he confesses his love for her. Both of them are basically Padme trying to steer Anakin off a dangerous path. However in AOTC, she’s basically trying to push him away from her and onto his current path as a Jedi. In this scene, she’s trying to pull him back to her and off his current path as a Sith. And at the end she tells him that he’s a good person and that she loves him. Despite everything he did and everything he just said to her (his speech that was so horrible to hear), she still believes he’s a good person and she still loves him. She’s not lying, she’s not telling him things he wants to hear or things she thinks he wants to hear, she never did that. She’s sincere with how she feels about him and she’s always seen him as a good person, even after her killed the Tusken raiders and even now. And she loved him then and she still loves him now. Her telling him she loves him (present tense) is also in contrast with Obi-Wan telling him at the end of their duel that he loved him (past tense). It shows that Padme’s love for Anakin isn’t conditional and she will always love him, regardless of what he does.

Now we can look at the Obi-Wan part and we see Padme looking horrified when she sees Obi-Wan on the ramp of her ship. She’s not just feeling betrayed by Obi-Wan for hiding on her ship to come to Mustafar, but she’s probably thinking that she’s really going to lose Anakin now because Obi-Wan will try to kill him... or that Anakin will try to kill Obi-Wan (although I don’t think Padme thinks Anakin is truly capable of killing someone who was so close to him) and then she will lose her friend and Anakin will lose his father (we know that she knew Anakin thought of Obi-Wan as a father).

Then there’s Anakin choking her and this is such a powerful moment. Because we know that Padme only loved Anakin and she’s trying to pull him back to light, but he’s too far gone. He doesn’t trust her anymore, he doesn’t believe her when she tells him she loves him. Anakin choking her is him basically crossing the point of no return because he claims he did all this for her (and there’s no doubt that saving her was his sole reason for turning to the dark side), but now he’s become so consumed by the dark side, that he turns against her and he hurts her.

Earlier in the scene, Anakin tells Padme something like “don’t you turn against me too“, but she was only there to help him, she wanted to be on his side and run away with him. She didn’t want to hurt him and she would have never tried to hurt him. She was just there to take him away from the Emperor and from Obi-Wan and from everyone else and she was there because she loves him. And it’s Anakin actually who ends up turning against her and hurting her.

The Mustafar scene is also very interesting because before this, we see Anakin throwing everything away to save Padme. And then her going to Mustafar, it’s Padme throwing everything away to save Anakin. She knows she won’t be able to continue living the same life she was living, or to keep her career, or anything else if she and Anakin run away together and she’s ready to throw all of that away because to her, none of that is as important as her being with Anakin. I know this won’t sit right with some people, but Padme was just as desperate as Anakin was to save their relationship and to stay together.

[penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories]

So We Refuse To Take it Tragically

A/N: I’ve just accepted my fate is to be obsessed with this man, so here’s yet another Obi-Wan fic. There will be a second part to this, and I’m thinking a mini series of in-between moments. I won’t give spoilers, but this is NOT my normal type of fic, but he’s an exception to every rule in my book, apparently. Thank you to @caffeine-in-an-iv​ for being my beta on this, I don’t know where this would be without you!

Thank you also to @beskars​ for her post here that birthed this. Always blessing us with fuel for the thirst. 

And to the one I know IRL that found my tumblr, one I will refer to as Top Voice, this is your final warning to gtfo before feasting your eyes on unprecedented filth and sap. 

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Force sensitive! Fem Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: SMUT!!!  Cumeating, hair pulling, Comfort Sex, ANGST!! (It has a happy ending later, I promise, but it starts after ROTS, so it’s par for the course) If you’re gonna write not-particularly-pertinent-to-plot-porn, might as well make it unnecessarily detailed, right? As usual, too many feelings for porn,  More warnings will be in the tags to prevent spoilers 

Title from one of my favorite quotes: 

“Ours is essentially a tragic age, so we refuse to take it tragically. The cataclysm has happened, we are among the ruins, we start to build up new little habitats, to have new little hopes. It is rather hard work: there is now no smooth road into the future: but we go round, or scramble over the obstacles. We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”

-D.H. Lawrence

Tatooine is no place for a baby.

 There are no soft surfaces, nor comforts, nor surplus of anything. It’s desolate and deprived and oppressive, but you watch as Obi-Wan shields the child from its harsh, sand-pelting winds with his whole body, despite the fact the child fits in the space between his wrist and elbow. It’s overzealous, but you don’t say anything of it.

 The past two days have ripped away nearly everything he held dear, insisting on devastating every tender place. Nothing sacred has been left untouched.

 He broke the code long before he met you, and you know part of why his love for you came so easily, why he had no qualms with breaking his vows, was because he’d long since loved the man that became his family in every way that matters.

 Love and Light so tightly knit together the fabric of his being one could not be separated from the other. 

 And you could take on the entire Force with your two fists for how it had rewarded him for it with Hate and Darkness coming from someone so close it shattered something foundational in Obi-Wan. 

 Yet even now, there isn’t Darkness surrounding his signature. There’s brokenness and his ever-present equilibrium has been replaced by jagged shards. But despite it all, those rugged pieces still reflect light erratically in their shine.

 It’s a loss and betrayal that spans many different planes: on one level, there’s nowhere you look in the galaxy beyond just the two of you that isn’t marked by the Empire’s rise in power, marking the end of the Republic he fought for and the fall of the Jedi, his community, comrades, and only home he’d ever known. And on another level, you’ve seen the weight of war and worse in Obi-Wan’s eyes, but nothing, nothing like this.

 The pain is panoramic, but it’s also profoundly personal.

 Even still, his attention isn’t on himself, but on the fussy bundle in his arms.

 You wonder: is it the galaxy that doesn’t allow this man time to heal? Or is it his own choice to throw himself into the need of others so he has a tangible reason to avoid his own torments?

 When he places the baby into the arms of the young couple, you know the times ahead will give the answer to that.

 Because there aren't the cries of the past few nights to wake either of you, there’s silence. 

 You long to fill it, to try to bridge this insurmountable void with something, anything you could say. But you know it’s bigger than you. So, so much bigger than you.

 Monumental obstacles and tremendous loss find themselves standing in the threshold of an abandoned hut smaller than your flat was on Coruscant. 

 “Well… it’s not much to look at, certainly. But the moisture vaporator seems to be in repairable condition, and we’re just far enough from town to avoid any curious neighbors. What do you think?” He turns to you, and his eyes, dark circles under and all, turn sharp in their assessment of your response. 

 “I told you. I’m going wherever you are so long as you’ll let me.” Your voice is gentle but adamant as you remind him. 

 He walks up from the living room to the threshold of the kitchen where you are, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist. “Be that as it may, I’m asking your input on where we’re going, or living, as your happiness means a great deal to me.” 

 There’s still no smile, but it’s the brightest his energy has felt since the last time you saw him before he came to your door in Coruscant days ago, whispering a rushed, heartfelt farewell, which you quickly countered with an emphatic, unshakable, “I’m coming with you.”

 You look up at him, gliding your hand across his cheek into the hair at the nape of his neck. There’s Darkness at the door of his soul that he’s fighting off every moment, and he has the audacity to speak of your happiness. 

 You don’t dare bring up his. It’s irony, at best. 

 So you smile, timid, knowing the gesture in itself might be blasphemous to the tone, but genuine all the same. “We can make a life here. I know we can.”  

 He scans your eyes, looking to find the authenticity in your statement. “Are you certain?” 

 He’s not asking about the hut anymore. Or, at least, not just the hut. 

 “Obi-Wan, I never had any delusion that any life I had with you would be easy. I thought I’d only ever be getting you in secret, sparse moments. Although I’d never, ever wish for it to be under the circumstances that it is, having you like this is better than I ever hoped.”

 There’s silence as he processes your words, then a wry twist of his features. “How I wish that your expectations needn’t be so low.”

 “No, no, that’s not what I meant.” You incline your head, trying to find the words to convey what you mean. 

 “Nothing any person or any planet anywhere has to offer me holds a candle to what I’ve found in you, nor will it ever. I’d never trade unshakable wholeness for the transience of materialistic happiness.”

 You know this has to resound with him. Is it not within the core set of values he was taught to forsake comfort in any avenue for something far greater? 

 His eyes flick between yours, gauging, and you can feel him reaching out to feel at your signature to solidify the truth. 

 If you knew him any less, you might be insulted at his questioning of your trustworthiness. But it’s not you he doesn’t trust. It’s something good willingly giving itself to him that causes his wariness. 

 The Force can have your middle finger along with your fists. 

 Then he’s relaxing into you, letting out an exhale that seems heavy with more than just air, and burying his nose in your hair for his next inhale. 

 ****

 By the end of the day, you’ve gathered enough supplies for basic necessities and to start on the repairs of the hut. You both snarf down a ration bar before shortly thereafter clearing the blown-in sand off what must have been the bed of the home. It’s a half circle indenture in the wall, and it has a dip obviously made for a mattress or cushion of some sort, but as all that’s available are the blankets bought in town today, you set to fluffing them to some semblance of comfort. 

 Fatigue pulls you into it far sooner than the suns setting. Last night was your first night without Luke, spent in a room you rented in town. Today was spent traveling to and from the hut, discussing details on what needs to be done, and you? You are absolutely exhausted. You can only imagine what he must feel like. 

 Obi-Wan secures the lock on the door before sitting on the side of the bed, looking off into nothing for a long, long moment. 

 You push up to your side, placing a hand on his back. “Obi…”

 His shoulder nudges toward your hand, but he cuts you off. “It’s going to get quite cold when the suns set, and since the stove isn’t properly ventilating yet, we’re going to have to work with body heat.”

 “I’ll try to mask my reluctance,” you retort.

 He turns his face to you then, and just a smidge of humor sweeps across his eyes before he sheds his cloak, followed by everything else until only his pants remain. You’ve long since stripped down to your own sleeping comfort level, so before he can fold his cloak along with the rest of his discarded clothing, you take it and cover yourself with it. 

 He shakes his head a little at you once he’s done, settling down next to you, throwing the covers over both of you. 

 “Tell me what you need.” You’re face to face with him, but his expression is unreadable. 

 “I… I don’t know.” He considers you as if you held the answer to the question you just asked him.

 “What about want, then? What do you want, Obi-Wan?” You wish he didn’t have his shields perpetually raised these days. It’d be so much easier to just read his energy. 

 His hand reaches up so he can stroke your cheek with his thumb. “You’re tired, darling. Rest.” 

 Ah, there it is. If the answer to the question of desire is him counter offering his own response with the fact you’re tired… 

  “So are you. But you still want.” You press your body fully against his, dropping your voice down to a whisper. “And so do I.” 

 You won’t push anymore than that, letting him take or leave the invitation. For you, it’s not even a question. It’s been four months since you last saw him. Since you’d last felt his touch.

 You’d spent the last few nights in each other’s arms, but between Luke's shrill cries and the deafening devastation of the events of the days prior, it’d been just that: sleep. Or, what tousled, disturbed counterfeit the circumstance offered you both.  

 For him, though, there’s an abysmal weariness that digs far beyond lack of sleep, and you don’t dare infringe upon him in any way.

 But there’s still a longing present, and even without his Force signature to guide you into his feelings, he can’t hide his eyes. 

 You watch the moment he makes a decision solidify across his countenance right before he presses his lips against yours. You sigh into it, letting the draw of his skin on yours pull you into orbit.

 Because that’s exactly what happens. It’s a kiss for a kiss’ sake, for flavor and fervency and the fullness of each other, but it quickly gains its own momentum when his tongue parts your lips truly. 

 It’s an acute absence. Not having his energy surrounding you with his shields so far up. But it also gives sharp attention to the press of skin against skin, makes it an anchor and an outlet for all that is still too tender to even acknowledge.

 You find grip in his hair, purposefully running your hands the opposite of the way he combs it as he takes your face in both hands and pulls you into him all the more. 

 When you both need to breathe, he only moves so far away that his lips still brush against yours on every exhale. “I..” he starts, then stops. 

 The hand still in his hair rakes through it gently, scratching your fingertips against his scalp as you wait for him to complete his thought.

 “Let me taste you,” he says at last. You know it's a question from the way he stills, waiting for permission, but it’s phrased as nothing like it. 

 You raise an eyebrow. “Is that a rhetorical quest…”

 “Oh, hush.” He’s already nudging you over onto your back, situating his body over yours, claiming your lips again. You allow yourself to sink into it, cherishing his weight over you, his hand roaming your ribcage, before pulling back to speak. 

 “I’m sorry, are you now getting on to me for my sass? Because… oh!”

 He finds a nipple through the thin fabric of your shirt, pinching softly with a small tug. 

 “By all means, continue. I was most intrigued.” His smirk is back, but it fixes you with a tinge of worry when it again proves to be a smile only skin deep.

 You place two fingers just shy of his forehead, but he catches your wrist in an almost painful clasp. The alarm casted by his expression quickly is washed away by a carefully constructed impassiveness, and your heart sinks. 

 He has to see it, because he bows his head in apology. “Not tonight.”

 And before you have any room to respond, he’s shifting himself down as he lifts your shirt up, placing a single taunting, wet kiss on each nipple before moving even further down, nipping at the skin right below your belly button. 

 He’s distracting you from what he’s not allowing you access to, and you know it, and you let him anyway. That’s what this is, isn’t it? Distraction from the barrage of the mind. If that’s what he needs, that’s what you’ll give.

 As he toys with the hem of your underthings, and you lift your hips to assist their removal, you realize it’s exactly what you need too.

 Except he apparently isn’t planning to remove your underwear at all. With a casual flick of his hand, your legs are parted and held like that with a no-nonsense sprout of Force energy. Then he’s simply pulling the cloth to the side and brings his mouth torturously closer, but stops just before contact. 

 You push up to your elbows to tell him you can’t take much of those teasing breaths he’s taking, blowing hot air against sensitive nerve endings. But when you hear his breath stutter as he just looks, unhurried in admiration, you decide against it, even as you flush at the undivided attention. Sprawling his palms out over your inner thighs, he dips down to press his mouth between his fingers, sucking not-so-gently into the soft skin, sending the flesh into tremors before he’s even really done anything to you.

 He says your name as he opens you up with his fingers, parting your folds so everything is bared to his view. You start to squirm, the exposure starting to feel a little too heady, and you’re starting to appeal with the beginning of his name when he leans forward, straight away connecting his lips to your clit. You try to thrust up into it as some shameful noise leaves you, but there’s only so much movement you have with your legs still pinned. 

 He loves to tease, so you don’t expect him to retract the energy that constricted your legs at the first resistance. Instead, he slides his hands under your ass, pulling you on to his tongue and lets you push your hips into him unchecked.

 He hums at your enthusiasm, the reverberation sending your hands into his hair again, which gifts you with even more noises from him. 

 It doesn’t take long at all, and you’re coming undone on his tongue, biting into your forearm to dampen your cry. 

 He doesn’t stop until you push at his shoulder, signaling your tender surrender. He obeys, looking up at you from between your thighs, absolutely besotted, eyes shining a shade brighter than before. 

 Then. Obi-Wan Kenobi keeps his eyes on yours before dipping his head and tilting his jaw, running his beard right where you’re still open and vulnerable, abrasion grating in a way you know you’ll be feeling all day tomorrow. 

 He licks his lips as he moves back up to kiss you again, letting you taste yourself on him. 

 He goes easily when you gesture for him to lie on his back so you can straddle him, carefully avoiding any contact where he’s throbbing for you. His hands fall right to your waist, stroking gently as he waits for you to initiate. 

 You focus your study on the section of his hair that’s fallen in his face, twirling a finger in it, happy to have anywhere to look but his eyes. 

 He’d normally at least be in your mind by now, and even though you understand it, well, the drought of it is as appropriate for the planet as anything. 

 You remember too late to raise your own shields against any accidentally too-loud thoughts, as Obi-Wan cups his hand on your chin, forcing your gaze to his, saying your name quietly in calling.

 “You have to know, it isn’t anything to do with…”

 You interrupt him. “No. No. I won’t have you addressing my insecurities of all things in light of…”

 “Please listen, love. I need you to know, it hasn’t anything to do with the love I have for you. That hasn’t changed and never will. I think I need… “ He pauses, solemn in thought. “Time,” he finishes finally.

 You knew this already in the pit of your stomach, but hearing him say it, hearing him affirm that it isn’t you insufficiency… you hate that you needed it as much as you did. 

 And if he needs time? That’s what you’ll give. But he also has a want, evidenced by the brush of him against you when you scoot yourself down his torso. 

 You take the hem of his pants with you when you continue down, ridding him of them and his shorts. But when you wrap your hand around him and begin to lower your mouth, he grips your chin again, shaking his head. 

 “I can’t… please, just.”  It’s always an anomaly when he’s at a loss for words, usually ever-so articulate.  

 A gasp chokes out of you when you feel the phantom of his mind. Not in full, no. With barriers, and it’s projected out, not at all the same sensation to being within it. 

 It’s desperation. For how long it’s been, for how drained he feels, how he’s not sure how long this will last, and how much he yearns to be inside you.

There’s not even a second of debate in your mind as you take your position on his lap again, lifting your hips, intention apparent. He takes his cock in hand, holding steady so you can start to seat yourself onto the thick push of him. 

 The hitch in his breath is your only warning before he seizes the undersides of your thighs, halting you from taking him any further.

 His eyes are tightly shut, and you know from watching him before that his facial expression is an attempt at borderline meditation, except it’s several long seconds before he achieves anything resembling calm. 

 It’s as good a time as any to push his hands off you and squirm around to take him a little deeper. You plan on rubbing your victory in, but your smirk is wiped away with a whine at the elation. Instead of stopping you again, he almost imperceptibly thrusts up, and it’s your turn to falter, slamming your hands into his chest, nails digging in, working against your weight trying to pull you down onto him. 

 It goes on like that, until you’re both bordering on hysteria before you’ve even fully taken him. You can’t figure out if it’s a worse torment to keep delaying or continuing. 

 Obi-Wan seems to have come to his own conclusion to that, as he finally opens his eyes, locking them with yours as he places his palms flat on the tops of your thighs and pushes down until your skin is flush with his.

 You pull a hand up, biting on your fist, trying to stifle the exclamation in your throat.

 He pulls it away, voice ragged as he speaks. “I want to hear you, little one. We needn’t hide anymore.”

 It’s a dimensional statement. For one, no one is around for miles, a stark contrast to your quarters on Coruscant where you at least attempted to be considerate of your too-near neighbors when it came to noise. For another, it’s the irony of being in hiding from the Empire, but being allowed to be open in your relationship with each other finally.

 And the deepest irony is that you both have your barriers up so firmly right now all you can concentrate on is bared skin.

 Oh, but what a beautiful spanse of bared skin he is. Freckled and almost luminously pale, bending and curving with the strength of the form underneath.

 He sits up slowly, generating a breathless plea from both of you at the new angle. A search of your eyes asks you a question, and you’re nodding, kissing him with the full brunt of your craving. 

 You slide up and then down again just as he drives up, and you’ve found your rhythm, just like that. 

 His hands push you onto him every time you pull up, and his tongue laves your breasts, sucking and biting along your collarbone, as you rake your nails down his chest, over the backs of his shoulders, his scalp, anything you can touch. 

 It’s enough to send him into a chorus of groans, shoving himself hard up into you.

 He doesn’t even speak it aloud, just projects the apologetic warning that he’s on the edge.

 When his thumb finds your clit, everything in you goes tense despite the relief. You clench around him, hard, and he instantly moves his hands to your shoulder blades pulling you flush against him as he lets out an unrestrained sound against your breasts. 

 You push his thumb away from where it’s stilled against you, replacing it with your own. His fingers twitch in their bruising grip, and you can feel him throbbing inside you.

 You stay like that for a moment, just letting him ride out his bliss, whispering sweet affirmations into his hair.

 When he looks up at you again, his eyes are glassed over. You wonder if it’s ecstasy that is the cause, or something from the bedrock boiling to the surface. 

 He doesn’t give you a chance to elaborate, flipping you over on to your back. The moment he withdraws, you can feel the mess dripping down your inner thighs. 

 It takes everything in you to not come at the sight alone as Obi-Wan dips further down your body, parting you and lapping his tongue right where you’re weeping evidence of desire. 

 You know you have to be making a mess of his face and beard, but he certainly doesn’t seem to mind, indulging on his own spill infused with yours. 

 When he adds two fingers in you and curls them strategically, searing heat shoots through your lower stomach as you arch against his mouth, his name a high whisper with absolutely no suppression, echoing across the empty stone walls of the home. 

 He leaves a final tender kiss against you before lying down next to you, pulling you into his arms, and you pull him into yours right back when your limbs remember how to function.

 His head drops against yours, and his eyes flutter shut, taking a deep inhale, like he’s trying to fill his lungs with more than just oxygen. 

 Nothing is fine, and the world is crumbling. But right now, as the suns finally leave the house in dark, as you clasp each other in tight embrace, as sleep pulls you under, you can pretend it’s fine. If only for a moment.

 *******

  There’s a flash of feeling that startles you awake and into the disorientation that comes from waking in a new place. The sensation worsens when you feel the reverberations of the equivalent of a slammed door in the Force. 

 You sit up quickly and look over to Obi-Wan, who sits on the side of the bed, head in his hands, fingers brutal in their grip.

 You move toward him, and he turns around at the sound. “Go back to sleep, darling. it’s nothing.”

 When you fix him with a gaze that essentially translates “bantha fodder,” he just lies back down, pulling your back into his chest, and you doubt the fact you can’t see his face like this is a mistake. 

 The rhythm of his breathing betrays the fact he is nowhere near sleep, but you find yourself fading off soon again anyway.

 ****

 When you wake in the morning, you’re alone in the bed, which is no surprise. He’s not one to lounge, and if the height of the suns peaking through the window has anything to say, he’s already been up for a while.

 His cloak is still tangled in the blankets, though, and you wrap yourself in it, padding outside after doing something about your morning breath. 

 The hut is situated on a cliff, overlooking a barren valley. The suns glare with their unrelenting eyes of heat even so early in the day, and you stare back as best you can without squinting, daring them to do their worst. They know nothing of the misery that’s already visited this home. They have no hope of competing. 

 You find Obi-Wan cross-legged near the edge of the cliff. Cross-legged and levitating. 

 Of course, you know he can do things like this. It’s just such a different thing to see him doing it . You’ve never had a proper morning with him like this, seeing his routine. He was always up before the sun, you with him, gathering moments and soaking them in before he had to leave again.

 He looks almost peaceful now, not at rest, but peaceful. 

 How?

 How does he still have so much trust in the Force? 

 A more lighthearted thought emerges through the grim train, as you notice he’s opted to not put his tunic back on yet. 

 It doesn’t matter out here, you suppose, there isn’t any other living being for miles around. For that matter, you wonder why he even left the pants. 

 His voice damn near startles you, not even opening his eyes to address you. 

 “Although that may be the case, there are some locations more bearable to get sunburn than others.”

 You blush at being caught, and gently ensure your thoughts aren’t accidentally projected again, but he doesn’t give you much time to dwell on it.

 “Join me?”

 As he opens his eyes and descends the couple inches down back onto the ground, you feel your heart do the same. He’s taught you little things, here and there, and you’ve enjoyed it, learning to tap into that constant humming you never had the tools to channel before.

 But now? 

 What interest do you have with The Force that failed the man who served it without fail? You could burn it down for the atrocities it’s committed even in negligence against the man you love.

 But there’s been enough burning.

 Obi-Wan won’t speak of what transpired on Mustafar, but you’ve caught glimpses. Last night wasn’t the first night you’ve had him back, and it wasn’t the first you’d woken to a severe troubling in his aura. 

 You’re still not sure if Luke is a fussy baby or simply a very responsive one, as it seemed Obi-Wan was already awake before Luke started crying. 

 It was only mere seconds before his shields came slamming down, firmly in place, every time. 

You can’t tell if he’s trying to shelter you from his feelings or blockade them away from himself.

 Maybe both.

 But those seconds? They’re long enough. For just a flash of a charred, severed body. Of hateful, pleading, golden eyes. 

 There’s been enough burning. 

 “I can’t ever be a Jedi, Obi.” 

 “That’s not what I’m asking of you.” 

 He knows your criticisms as well as your compliments over the Jedi. You’ve both discussed it at great length many times, always over a firm understanding and respect, but you’ve never really had long enough to have a conclusion. But you’re not going to push now, not with the fall of it all still so close behind him. 

 “I should think our relationship itself is testimony that I don’t inherently agree or adhere to all Jedi teachings.”

 You drop your eyes, trying to ignore the sweat starting to trickle down your skin from the relentless heat. “I thought maybe you were with me in spite of your better judgement.”

 His brow furrows. “At first, that’s what I may have thought too, but it made itself clear that although what transpired between us was forbidden by the Code…” he trails off for a moment, almost hesitant. “...the way Light was and is exemplified any time I have you in my arms presented a solidified case that not always is the Jedi way synonymous with the will of the Force.”

 He says it wholeheartedly, but you can tell it pains him. It’s easy to never speak ill of the dead, either of individuals or groups. To glorify and wipe away any transgressions to ensure their memory sparkles as you grieve it. 

 The harder thing is to grieve everything, both the good you lost and the bad you experienced from the same source.

 And there’s another level there. Something that has him patting the spot beside him and giving a heartbreakingly forced smile.

 Even through it all, wariness of aspects of his own religion included, he seeks unity with the Force without reservation or resentment.

 You don’t fight him anymore. 

 The war is over, but the battle has just begun, and so help you Maker, you’re going to fight for him to have the chance to heal. 

 So you sit, mimicking his position. 

 When he smiles again, it’s much smaller but not at all fake. 

 “First, clear your mind.”

 *****

 The days are afflicted with an underlying gloom, full of work that busies the hands but leaves the mind to wander, which wasn’t at all a luxurious thing. 

 But the nights are filled with unclaimed time, time in an abundance you never had with each other before. 

 Sometimes it’s shot with silence from the weight of the day, reveling in the presence of another as you work together on the supper dishes.

 Or sometimes there’s almost an excitement, despite the labor ahead, of the plans for the place that’s now your home. 

 “Wouldn’t we have to have some sort of larger equipment to hoist that over the cliff edge?” You wonder aloud to Obi-Wan, speaking of the replacement unit for finally getting some very basic temperature control for the hut. “The way around back is too rough and would scratch it up, and I, for one, wouldn’t want to try pushing it up manu…”

 You stop at his smirk he’s trying to hide with tilting his tea cup higher over his lips. 

 “...Or there’s a Jedi solution to this problem that requires neither, and you’re just letting me ramble on anyway.” You punctuate the end of your statement by tossing a pillow his direction, which just stops. Midair. 

 There’s so much legend surrounding Jedi, you haven’t really been sure what’s factual and what’s fairytale. 

 You certainly knew of some of his abilities, but he didn’t tend to elaborate on details of his missions before, and you never argued, knowing it was a liability for you to have that kind of information if anyone ever found out what you meant to Obi-Wan.

 He chuckles, not even trying to look a little guilty. 

 Once you remember to shut your mouth, you get back to planning. “And that same principle just applies to objects of any size?”

 He nods. “Same principle, just more concentration required.” 

 You tuck your feet under you on your chair as you think on that for a second. You’ll have to ask him to teach you that one next. Mediation alone could get rather dull.

 “So, for instance, if a great amount of concentration is being spent Force-lifting an object up the cliff, it would leave a Jedi vulnerable to, say… projectiles thrown?” You throw another pillow at him, which just as easily halts next to the other, gravity defiant. 

 He could have lowered the first one by now. You raise a brow at the knowledge he’s putting on a show for you. 

 “You’ll have to do better than that, I’m afraid.” 

 More often than not, the time of the evenings are spent loving and lounging in sheets, savoring the difference of unhurried lovemaking, with no heart-wrenching farewell on the horizon.

 But every time you gently ask to reach his mind, he pushes the request and your hand away.

 *******

 Obi-Wan’s visits to see Luke are met with a level of hostility. The man, Owen, seems wary of him, doing everything he can to cut the visit short as you and the woman, Beru, if you remember correctly, look silently to each other for some relief in the tension.

 They already likely know his actual name, but you’re careful to only address Obi as “Ben” here, along with everywhere else that isn’t your hut. It’s precautionary, but if it’s for the sake of protecting Luke and Obi-Wan himself, you’ll do it without any further questions.

 But Luke seems to be doing well, and that is ultimately what matters most. It’s hard to believe how quickly he’s grown in the mere weeks that you’ve been here.

 The boy might be by far Obi-Wan’s greatest purpose being on this planet, but it’s not his only. 

 Master Yoda had given him Jedi texts, yes, but also another task for his time here. 

You’re thankful to talk about either, as it seems to be one of the few things he’ll open up to you about as it pertains to himself. 

 But when he goes to meditate alone, calling for his mentor, his father in every right of the term, he comes back more empty than he left. 

 When you look at him with a too-knowing look, too infiltrating for his comfort, he easily slides into a quip.

 “My old master, it seems, won’t appear unless on his own terms. I’m not sure what else I expected, honestly.”

 ******

 You also learn that the man does not cook. Not that you consider yourself an expert, but at the very minimum, you know how to use spices, which on Tatooine come as hot as their weather.

 “Is it a Jedi thing to have tasteless food, or is that just you?” You tease as he dices some sort of root at your direction while you sift through the cabinet. 

 His eyes are full of mischief when he’s quiet for a moment before speaking up. “I would argue there’s concrete evidence that I’m quite happy to indulge in the pleasures of taste.”

 You can’t help your blush as his very pointed look. 

 Dinner is long forgotten after that, but the night is delectable all the same.

 *****

 Something has shifted in your own Force signature. Something you can’t put your finger on. 

 It doesn’t seem harmful or threatening in essence, but it makes you wary in a way that makes your skin itch with more than the dryness. 

 You try not to think much of it. After all, there’s plenty to do between tending to the vaporator, hunting, fending off the Sand People, and your learning to wield the Force.

 After rumors of Tusken raiders being nearby, you ask Obi-Wan to teach you combat.  This would be starting long before he normally would teach someone, he explained, but he does it anyway. It’s not exactly using the Force at first, having to start with how to even move your body in the event of attack, slowly enhancing those skills with the Force as you become more confident in them. 

 You look forward to it more than any other task. It gives you a strength you haven’t had before, and it’s a whole different level of connection to the Force when you trust it physically, not just in your mind. 

 It’s also another level of trust with Obi-Wan, knowing he’d never hurt you even as he enters the role of a potential threat, guiding you through how to handle it.

 So you don’t know why today your stomach won’t agree to the way you want your body to move. You push through it anyway, despite Obi-Wan’s concerned questioning. 

 You lose your lunch into the rocks, and you really wish he wouldn’t pick you up to take you back into the hut, because the shift of what’s up and what’s down doesn’t help at all. 

 And you wish he wouldn’t dote over you the rest of the day, as if you didn’t feel useless enough already, as if the illness didn’t leave as quickly as it came. 

 You make a mental note to ensure you don’t let yourself become dehydrated again to that point.

 *****

 The trips into town are kept to a minimum, trying to keep curiosity away from the new couple. Also, there wasn’t much to do except barter and spend credits, something you both tried not to do a great deal of. 

 Obi-Wan was sent off with enough Republic credits to get you started here, but it was hit or miss if the vendors took them that day, and he also didn’t want to spend too much at once.

 Nothing was more suspicious than surplus here.

 The woman you brought the limited produce available from seemed… different this trip. 

 Obi-Wan was a couple of stalls down from you, negotiating with a man who had obviously jacked up the price on the items needed. Poor man didn’t know what he was in for. 

 You turned your attention back on to the woman in front of you, and tried to decipher what was different this time and why it felt so familiar. 

 As you pointed to a basket of hubba gourds, inquiring of the price, she gave you one that you knew for a fact was higher than last time. 

 You counter offered the same price as last time you were here, and she firmly stated her price again. Ready to stand your ground, you go to state your price again, she puts her hand to her belly, bringing her skirt in around, revealing a small bump. 

 “Can’t afford your low-ball offers with this one on the way, understand?” 

 The sky suddenly falls around you in thunderous clamor as the physical realm around you moves on, unaffected and unreachable. Almost mechanically, you place the credits she asked for on the table, not even capable of addressing the obvious manipulation.

 Understanding drenches you in its brutal weight as you realize the source why she felt so different this time. 

 Your hands shake in their clasp on the basket as you pull yourself into a side alley, heaving your breakfast up. 

 Because you recognize the same difference in her is the exact same one that has changed your Force signature.

 It’s because there’s a flickering light of another being’s Force signature within you. 

  Tagged as requested: @maybege​

[starwarsaddiction]

Emotions, yet peace

This is my entry for the Jedi June, I hope I’ll be able to contribute more in the next weeks... be gentle with me, I am not a native english speaker and I’m sadly insecure about my written english.

You can also read it here on AO3. 

Summary: Anakin loves his life as a jedi. He loves teaching to the kids in the creche, and training with Obi-Wan and meditating in the Room of Thousand Fountains.

Anakin was heading to the refectory, hand in hand with a small youngling of about 7 years of age. A female twi'lek, her lekkus swinging on her back while she was happily bouncing by his side, happy as a puppy. He was the war hero, an idol for all the kids in the creche. Anakin accepted a bet, just an hour ago, with all the classroom of kids, on who would be better at meditating while keeping a pile of little rocks levitating in front of them in a geometrical shape. The young twi'lek kept the little rocks in the shape of a flower, arranged like a small daisy, for almost all the hour long of meditation, so Anakin decided that she was the obvious winner. And what better reward than a nice ice-cream? They chatted and the youngling asked him so many questions that he felt his head spinning, at some point. He wondered how it would be with his own children, one day, if he and Padme would ever have one of their own. He shook the thought, it would mean that he should leave the order, and he didn't want that, for sure, not for now at least. Maybe in the future, when the war ended, but it was a distant thought. He loved being a jedi. There was no other way to live, and they were his family.

More than Padme? He wondered. No, not more. Different, surely. Sometimes he wished that she was a Jedi too, to share all this beauty with her and be a couple inside the Order, like many of them, without the secrecy and the difficulties of having a wife outside the order with so much duty to keep them apart. It would be easier, if they were both jedi... or weren't both, but he really couldn't imagine a life outside of the Order.

He loved the time he could spend with the younglings... it was something that all the knights did, every week for some hours, when they could spare time from other duties. Educating the children was a communal duty for every one, and he remembered very well the time Obi-Wan spent with him and his classmates when he was a kid, teaching meditation and the jedi history, that he knew so well, with his soothing voice. Anakin was more capable with technology, and he teached the basics of droids repairing and building in a class that was usually very varied in age, from the younglings to older padawans, and sometimes teached advanced engineering to older padawans and even knights, for he was the best in the field. He studied it along other jedi, and he was renown for his incredible connections with starships and droids in general, as if they were sentient beings.

After returning the child to the creche, he went to find Obi-Wan in the dojo. They sparred for a couple of hours, gently bickering all the time. They used wooden swords to train and Obi-Wan knocked his sword out of his hands a couple of times, but he did it almost the same, when he was able to distract his former master enough. He wished he could spar with Ahsoka too, but she had two class to attend, that afternoon, so after a quick shower, he went to the Room of Thousands Fountains to meditate until dinner. He felt tired, his muscles sore, but it was a nice feeling, he loved to train and explore the limit of his body, outside the enhancement of the force. And anyway, that sensation didn't last long, after all he was young, healthy, fit.

It was early spring on Coruscant, but only in the Temple you could see that in all its beauty, or at least, it was easier to see in the Room of Thousands Fountains. There were other parks and gardens in the higher part of Coruscant, but this one was the largest and the most diverse, like all the people living in the Temple. It was built with the idea in mind to show all the diversity from the Galaxy, and it was beautiful and peaceful, a perfect mirror of the life inside the Temple, with all the species from around the Galaxy living in harmony and cooperation. Some plants were older than Yoda and the small master used to meditate under the older one, so he could feel young again, he joked with the younglings. By that time of the year, all the plants were full of  flowers, the sweet scent of them all mixing in Anakin's nostrils like a large orchestra of life. Butterflies from different planets were flying gently from flower to flower, little birds singing on the higher branches and other small critters running around. That day the breeze caressed his skin and hair like the hand of a lover, and the sun, not too hot, warmed him like the hug of a mother. He sat on his favourite bench, under a large tree that smelled of honey and spice, put his hands on his knees and closed his eyes, breathing slowly and centering himself in the now and here.

He felt so happy, and yet he felt so calm and complete.

“Emotions, yet peace”, he thought with a smile.

That was the Jedi way of life, and nothing could be better.

Anakin opened his eyes. There was a large, white cocoon around him, ticking like a clock. He could hear his breathing, heavy and mechanical. His view was blurred, the injuries from Mustafar had left him half blind on his right eye, and only with the visor of his helmet he could see as once, even if he saw through a red light, that gave the same color to everything, from faces to things. His body wasn't the same athletic and young body he remembered, but was crippled, weak, hurt, still flashing his conscience with pain, the air stank of decaying flesh. He was in the bacta tank, where the med droids scrubbed the dead skin from his body every month, and the Jedi Temple was now the Imperial Palace. The Room of Thousands Fountains was still there, full of plants, but empty of other living beings. The Emperor didn't step a foot in it, he just left it to itself, and the plant were rotting or just growing out of control. Anakin himself didn't dare to step in it, when he was on Coruscant.

He hissed in pain, while the armor was put on him again, needles pinching his flesh and the tight armor fitting his body, while his prosthetic limbs were put in place by the droids. All the peace from that memory, unwillingly awaken up in his mind by a brief sleep in the bacta tank, was gone, replaced with grief, guilt and anger.

He knew that it was gone forever, and he had to live with it. He remembered very well that small twi'lek, the horror in her face just before he cut her head off, that day in the creche. He did it to her, and to himself. When he slaughtered all of them, he killed a part of himself that he didn't know he had, and that was his point of no return.

No more peace, forever.

Only anger.

And fear.

[rentsturner]

Sweet Dreams | Obi Wan Kenobi

Request: A lil’ request since I imagined my 4’11 self with Obi-Wan who can easily carry me to my quarters after a long day while training with him, and he just lays me down onto my bed, kisses my forehead or cheeks while he strokes my hair, saying “sleep now, little one, I love you” 🥺🥺🥺 // @chogisss

warnings: nothing really, just some tooth rotting fluff and a dash of pining can you tell I’m touchstarved and lonely , a tiny bit of angst

word count: 1.7k

a/n: I wanted to get this request done and I did really enjoy writing it, but be warned it was fueled by my insomnia hence the constant references to being tired 😂 I apologise for any mistakes and I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think..

‘Concentrate!’

Obi-Wan’s voice cut through your breathless haze, the sharpness of his tone jarring you into reality. Your eyes widened as you sensed the fist flying towards your face, steady, calculated; a classic manoeuvre from one Obi-Wan Kenobi.

You managed to duck just in time and roll across the training room floor, away from the attack.

‘You're not concentrating! This is why you need more hand to hand practice, my love.’

Obi smirked teasingly as he stalked towards you. He was relaxed, languid almost, but you knew that behind his nonchalant demeanour Obi was coiled like a spring, always ready, always thinking of his next move. He was an experienced warrior and it showed. Your late night training sessions with him had improved your skills massively, despite only having had them for a week so far.

Obi was a harsh training partner, wanting to get the best out of you with every practice. You appreciated his efforts, you really did. But it was hard work, and the late nights were beginning to get to you.

You clashed again. Jab, duck, kick, jab, parry, roll, the cycle repeated over and over again, the exchange of blows like a conversation between your bodies. You knew each other well, inside and outside of the training room, every curve and plane of your body ingrained in Obi’s brain, just as the give and feel of Obi’s skin and muscle was imprinted in yours. You could predict the familiar pattern of your partner’s attack, able to read each other’s actions like a storybook, blocking’s punches before they were even thrown.

You held up Obi’s attack well, neither of you able to gain the upper hand. A strong hit sent you reeling suddenly, and you both pulled back to catch your breath, panting and sweating.

Obi circled you, prowling, cat-like, but still ready like a coiled spring. His tousled hair had fallen into his eyes and he pushed it back quickly with a steady hand, the action second nature to him. How he looked this good after hours of training you would never know, auburn hair darkened with sweat, a glint of something dangerous in his eyes, yet that easy grin was always there, showing a questionable amount of teeth. But he looked good. The man was a god, that was the only explanation.

No, you thought, no distractions.

‘Give up, Obi, you’ve had enough, I can tell.’

His chuckled lowly, his eyes shining, completely comfortable in the heat of a battle, even if it was just training.

‘Oh, darling, I could do this all day,’

That dreaded smirk crept across his face again. ‘You really have no idea.’

His eyes flashed with mischief a split second before he lunged forward. Your sense through the force had let you down and, for once, you didn’t have time to react before Obi crashed into you, hands gripping your waist and his weight pushed you to the floor. Oh no.

Now his thighs were straddled over your hips, pinning you down securely. Bastard. He’s beaten you again.

The bastard in question looked down at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across his face as the realisation of his victory sunk in. Delight sparkles in his bright eyes and you smile before you could help yourself. The happiness radiating off him was just infectious.

‘What’s it like down there, little one?’

The smile was immediately wiped off your face as you worked to look annoyed, huffing loudly.

‘Shut up, Obi.’

‘I bet you love it.’ You could feel his hot breath tickling your neck as he leaned closer.

Well you were enjoying it actually, the position was warm, comfortable and it was unsurprisingly pleasant to have Obi’s muscled frame hanging over you, his chest almost brushing yours as he took in deep breaths. But he didn’t need to know that.

You reached and pushed his chest back so he was once again perched upright over you. He frowned slightly, searching your face for any signs of playfulness, but there was nothing there.

‘You’re tired.’ he hummed, pushing the strands of auburn hair back from his forehead again.

‘I’m really tired.’ you confirmed with another sigh.

The pale skin around Obi’s eyes crinkled as he smiled fondly down at you. All traces of competitiveness had disappeared now that the session was over, replaced by a warm feeling of content that filled your chest and bubbled in your throat as you hazily took in the man above you. Your eyes locked with Obi’s and you could feel the same emotions running through his body too, the sensation pulsing steadily across your force connection.

The temptation to kiss him there and then flashed through your mind, but as you leaned up to get closer, the muscles in your back screamed in agony, hours of use and wear catching up with you now.

Obi noticed the grimace of pain appear on your face and he frowned again, smoothing your hair back from your face in a comforting manner.

‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he chuckled softly, ‘I think I may have worked you too hard.’ There was still a subtle teasing lilt to his voice, but you chose to ignore it, the fatigue and pain dimming your awareness slightly.

‘No, no, I think it’s just my back, let me see,’ you countered, not willing to admit too much weakness. After such a simple defeat, that would just be adding insult to injury.

You stood shakily, reaching for your water, but your legs were like jelly, muscles protesting at the movement and you stumbled as the pain shot through you. But Obi’s hand was already steady on the small of your back, the other skimming your shoulder, supporting you so you wouldn’t fall.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just your back. Tiredness was creeping up on you, eyelids beginning to droop and a yawn forcing its way out your mouth. The effects of a whole week of intense late night training were finally taking their toll on you.

Obi whispered in your ear again, but this time the tone was caring, not teasing.

‘Here, my love. Let me help you.’

He gently scooped you up in his arms. The fatigue had come over you like a tidal wave and you were too exhausted to argue, instead wrapping your arms around his neck and allowing yourself to melt into his warm tunic.

He grabbed your cloaks from the corner and headed towards the door.

‘I really am sorry if I’ve worked you too hard the past few days, love.’

‘S’okay, Obi, don’t worry ‘bout it.’ you mumbled faintly into his chest.

He was so soft and warm and Maker he smelt amazing: an intoxicating mixture of cinnamon and pine.

‘Hey, don’t go falling asleep yet, I’ve got to get you to bed first.’ Obi whispered.

There was no reply from you, only a quiet sigh and Obi rolled his eyes fondly. He moved down the corridors as quickly as he could. The temple was fairly quiet at this time of the night but there was still that lingering worry in the back of Obi’s head, the fear of being caught. He was almost sure that the sight of you half asleep and clinging to his torso would be seen as attachment.

Which of course it was. How could his love for you not be. This burning hot love, so tender yet so strong, this love that consumed him like a wildfire and flooded his mind like a tsunami, how could this not be attachment?

In fact it was more than that, more than just a connection, physical or emotional. It was like you were part of each other, two sides of the same whole, predicting each other’s thoughts, ideas. Obi had noticed it more than ever during the training sessions, how you would know were his leg or arm was heading before he even moved. It was something powerful. You two were a force to be reckoned with. If only you could concentrate, Obi mused silently.

He reached your quarters and nudged the door open, pushing his elbow firmly against the light switch in an attempt to chase away the darkness without jostling you. Obi crouched by your bed and lowered you gently onto the soft sheets.

‘Let go, sweetheart.’ he murmured, as your arms were still clinging to his neck. When no response came his way, Obi delicately pried your hands away, placing a soft kiss on each of your knuckles before laying your arms down.

He leant back, causing a small whimper to escape your mouth, a reaction to the loss of contact. Obi hushed you gently, pulled the sheets around your shoulders and tucking them in securely.

His lips glided over your forehead, pressing a chaste kiss there, before moving down to your cheeks, placing a gentle kiss on each one, his eyelashes brushing your skin as he leant down. A peck on your nose, each touch a silent ‘I love you’ and then finally his lips on yours, tender, gentle, comforting.

You hummed softly, drifting in and out of consciousness as your mind dipped beneath the waves of sleep.

A hand stroked your hair carefully, drifting down over your shoulder, brushing featherlight over your forearm.

‘Sleep well, little one.’

Obi backed slowly away from your bedside, quietly flicking off the light. He looked back at your sleeping form. Should he stay? Should he curl up with you until the morning and kiss all of your aches away? He wanted to, with every fibre of his being.

But he couldn’t risk it, as much as he wanted to. You looked peaceful and he wanted to keep you that way.

‘Sweet dreams.’

He turned away and the door clicked shut.

{tags : @doublesunsets @afogocado @corellians-only @stardancerluv @rosionis @kuailiangs @goldenkenobi @karasong @mcgorgeous-ewan @crazycatladyjenga @thespareoom } pls tell me if you do/don’t want to be tagged 💞

[starculler]

Based this on the cool ROTS concept art where Padmé goes to Mustafar intending to kill Anakin and some good old Padmé Lives AU goodness. @flashfictionfridayofficial

Padmé’s hands clenched around the smooth, stone banister — cold and rough under her palms — and stared at the still, star-studded stretch of lake Varykino’s terrace overlooked. Her eyes burned as she soaked in the beauty this small part of her home planet had to offer, but there were no more tears left to shed. There was only the hollow ache left behind her ribs, a staggering pain to rival the vivid, throbbing, blue-black bruises around her throat. The last gift her husband had left her.

She sighed, breathed in, and tried to imagine the taste of Naboo’s sweet, summer air instead of the thick coat of ash that had laid on her tongue since Mustafar. Her fingers curled around the bannister’s stone edge, already ruined nails grating on the texture even as she felt them wrapped around the hilt of the knife she’d held to her husband’s throat. The moment was clear as a holo, imprinted on the backs of her eyelids for her to see every time she’d closed her eyes since waking those few, too-long days ago.

Her arms around Anakin’s neck, pulling him down into a hug she’d shared with him a thousand times before. The sleeves of her red robe bunched around her elbows, its hood tugging at her loose hair as it fell back enough that she could see his face clearly. His thinned lips and a too-familiar pinch in his brow, sweaty and pale with too-dark rings under his eyes. He’d pulled her close, his hands finding the curve of her waist even through the voluminous fabric, and she’d curled her fingers into his curls with one hand as the other slipped the knife free. Anakin’s eyes had always been such a beautiful, bright blue, even shadowed and haunted and lit with the glow of Mustafar’s churning flows of bubbling lava.

“My lady.” Padmé blinked, dragged out of the memory by Sabé’s quiet voice, and turned to find her last handmaiden standing in the shadow of an elegantly carved column. “The preparations are complete.”

“They’re—” Padmé started only to choke on the words, but Sabé nodded regardless.

“They’re safe,” Sabé said, so softly that Padmé had to step closer to hear her better. “There’s been no reason to suspect they’ve been found or followed,” she added and Padmé could have collapsed from relief.

“Good. That’s good.”

It burned to be separated from her children no matter how much she’d agreed with Obi-Wan and Bail that keeping them together — keeping them with her — was dangerous. She breathed in, ignoring the slight hitch in an otherwise smooth breath, and curled her hands into tight fists on the exhale. When her eyes met Sabé’s again, there hadn’t been any need for her to so much as open her mouth to ask her next question.

“Your funeral went as well as a televised, closed-casket event could. You’ve been laid to rest in Theed with a simple, but elegant memorial to mark your tomb, and your former handmaidens have, respectfully, secluded themselves to mourn you.”

“How are they taking it?” Padmé asked, unable to resist, and felt the guilt rise like bile in her aching throat when Sabé winced.

“They—” she started, stopped, and Padmé watched Sabé clasp her hands together in front of her to keep her hands from shaking. Silence settled thick between them, heavy and uncomfortable, until Sabé settled on a shaky “They’ll understand. Less so, however,” she added, forcefully lightening her tone, “if you’re caught here.”

Padmé swallowed, stomach churning, and nodded. She let her eyes slide closed once more — watched herself hesitate on Mustafar, the knife’s edge pressing on her husband’s throat, knowing as she’d looked in his eyes that she didn’t have the strength to kill him — and breathed in, long and slow. When she opened them, there was only Naboo, Sabé, and the faint impression of the many small moments she’d stolen there with the people she loved.

“Give Captain Typho my thanks,” she said as she strode forward, Sabé falling neatly into step just behind and to her left. “He didn’t have to do this. Any of it.” She turned her head enough to meet Sabé’s eyes, shoving every ounce of gratitude she could muster at her. “Neither of you did.”

Sabé’s lips curled up in the small, familiar smile she always wore to express her fond exasperation, though it was marred now by the worried furrow in her brow and the uncharacteristic shadows under her eyes. She didn’t dignify Padmé’s sentiment with a response beyond a nod and a roll of her eyes that made Padmé wish she’d had the energy left in her to laugh. To pretend, for one moment, that this was just one of many a stroll the pair had taken through the villa.

The time for such silly sentiments, however, was long passed, and the pair wasted no time hurrying through the dark, unlit halls to the hangar with only Sabé’s lamp to light the way. The hangar, when they arrived, was lit with only a few stray lights and empty save for a pair of spare speeders and the single, old ship meant to smuggle Padmé and its pilot off-planet.

Sabé walked her to its ramp, both hesitating to take the final step that would, possibly permanently, separate them. There was so much still that Padmé wanted to say, but every word died on her lips — none of them enough. She managed only a watery “Be safe” when Sabé sprang forward to wrap her in a tight, clinging hug.

“I should be telling you that,” Sabé said, laughing even as a few stray tears wet Padmé’s shoulder.

“Sabé, I—” Padmé stopped, frowned, and pulled away just far enough to meet her former handmaiden’s eyes. “I have one more favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

Padmé closed her eyes, saw her husband and the burning landscape and the footage of the Temple no-one knew she’d managed to get her hands on after everything was done and her children were gone and all she’d had between then and now was time. When she opened her eyes, when she made her request, it was every inch Amidala — Queen and Senator — who spoke.

“Burn it,” she said, voice even and smooth even as the shift in tone startled Sabé. “When” — not if, because monster or not, she knew her husband almost better than she knew herself — “he comes, burn this place to the ground.”

[littlespaceporgs]

Inevitable

Leah! Congrats on your follower milestone! 🥳💕 May I request 5. a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss for Anakin Skywalker? Thank you, love! 🥰

A/N: Hey! This is my first time writing for Anakin, I tried to make him not as whiny as he is in the movies, so I ran with tcw! *cough* this is also my longest one somehow *cough*  So spoiler alert! It does have references and is set in the Zygerria arc in tcw, just a heads up, though it makes sense still if you haven’t seen the arc. Also fair warning, if you want it to stay fluffy at the very end, I recommend you don’t read the final paragraph. Anyway, enjoy :D

Want to Request? See Here.

Inevitable

Prompt: #5 - a gentle “i love you” whispered after a soft kiss, followed immediately by a stronger kiss

Word Count: 1.9k Pairing: Anakin x Jedi!Reader  Warnings: slavery, torture, hint of depression Description: Post-Zygerria, you contemplate your feelings for Anakin.

Tags for the fam: @anakin-danvers @fractiouskat 

It hadn’t gone well to say the least. Mind, it was rare that this type of thing went well. It was supposed to just be a trip to check on the Togrutans. Naturally, you had walked onto Kiros expecting a fight, after all, the last thing the Jedi had heard from them, a separatist fleet had entered the atmosphere. But this was by far the worst thing you’d ever gotten yourself into.

Kiros itself was a beautiful planet. The art and architecture was something to marvel at, and the landscape was vastly different to the cold grey of Coruscant. You found yourself hoping that one day you’d be able to holiday there, it was nice climate, there hadn’t been any traces of the war due to their neutrality until recently. The lack of habitants however was quite frankly disturbing.

Between Anakin, Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, the troopers and yourself, you all had made quick work of the droids. When you received word that the Zygerrians had a part to play in all of this, Obi-Wan went to meet up with the separatist leader, you stayed behind to comfort Anakin. Said Anakin was currently sitting in front of a speeder, looking highly volatile. The best way to approach Anakin when he was in such a mood was with quiet and a steady hand, so you started by placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Ani? Are you ok?” While he didn’t turn to look at you, his hands did stop fiddling with the machinery. He exhaled heavily through his nose and went back to modifying the speeder.

“Yeah. I’m fine.” You sat down next to him, and snatched the wrench out of his hands, which prompted a noise of protest as he turned to glare at you.

“See you say that, but there’s this thing called a ‘facial expression’ which says otherwise.” Using the force to snatch the wrench back, he went back to using the wrench. “Ani, you know you can talk to me right?” He sighed and stopped once more.

“Yeah, I know,” you reached over, and took one of his hands in yours, “this is just digging up some memories I’d rather not think about.” He twisted his hand over, so that his fingers locked in yours, and squeezed gently.

“I’m really sorry that you went through that, Ani, truly I am. I can’t even begin to imagine what it was like,” you paused and took a breath, “but what I do know, is that you’re one of the strongest people I know, and I know that because of that you’ll move past this.” Though not seeming totally happy, one of the corners of his mouth pulled a little, he shook his head and looked directly into your eyes before they flicked to your hands.

“Honestly, what would I ever do without you?” The jedi in you wanted to recite the code, say that he would be perfectly fine without you, that he’d have to find a way to move on and accept it, say that he shouldn’t be saying such things. But the utterly human part of you felt overly fuzzy, and affection reared its head in your stomach. Ignoring the trepidation, you smiled back at him.

“Probably something stupid, or make more poor decisions.” He snorted out an airy laugh and squeezed your hand a little tighter. The moment didn’t last however, as the tone of a comm rang out from his wrist from Obi-Wan.

That was what led you to Zygerria, attempting to find the Togrutans. With quick assurances and a look that seemed to be forlorn, you and Anakin separated. He went with Ahsoka to find the Queen, while you, Obi-Wan and Rex went on the hunt for the missing people. You should have listened to the awful, rotting feeling in your stomach, then maybe, you all wouldn’t have been taken.

As a jedi, you relished in the feeling of freedom. With a connection to the force, you could feel everything around you, feel the flow of energy between all if you will. It made you feel light, like a small breeze could carry you away, like every breath of fresh was your first. Down here, that was all taken away from you. The walls combined with the heat made you suddenly feel claustrophobic and the collar around your neck weighed you down. Between you and Obi-Wan, it normally would’ve been easy to break out. A tiny twitch of a finger, and the collar would be crushed. A swipe of the hand would smack the guards into a wall. Then you’d both be able to grab Rex and go. If Anakin were here, maybe you’d be able to achieve that.

It wasn’t a normal situation however.

There were others involved. If either of you even threatened to do something, they would torture a civilian, possibly even drive them to death. In your current state, you wouldn’t be able to take out the sheer number of guards quick enough before lives would be lost. They had realised that there was little in the way of physical torture that would cause a jedi to break. This, however, felt hopeless. Your hands were tied. You were hungry, exhausted, and felt overwhelmed with the sadness that practically poured out of their force signatures.

When the slaver was finally dead, you couldn’t help the sense of sick satisfaction that came with it. He deserved to die for what he did, and the subtle brush of a force signature told you Obi-Wan felt similarly. Despite being able to breathe without a collar for the first time in days, your lungs couldn’t seem to get any air, and your knees were aching, and your back was pounding with angry pain. Vaguely you remembered your knees slamming the ground and Obi-Wan kneeling near your head and calling your name.

Out of habit from the past few days, you woke up abruptly, although things were different. You started hyperventilating, and suddenly the world felt too small again. No matter what was actually happening, you couldn’t see anything except the dirty halls of the mine, the faces of the Togrutans who were tortured because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. And then blue eyes. There was a hand stroking your hair, and another trying to get you to keeping looking into the eyes. And then a whisper. It wasn’t loud, but it was comforting, soft. The words steadily became clearer and you finally noticed your surroundings. For one, instead of the smell of coal and grime, it smelt like a forest on Naboo. Instead of a metal bench, there was a mattress and a soft blanket covering your legs. The light was low, but you could see the glow of hyperspace speeding past. And Anakin.

The glow was luminating his face, which looked both soft and concentrated. You could see the shadows under his eyes that you likely mirrored. As he stopped speaking, the foggy feeling lifted, and you realised that he had been trying to force suggest you to calm down. Now that your breathing had returned to some semblance of normal, his hand moved from your face, though he didn’t stop stroking your hair.

“Are you ok?” You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“Yeah. Yeah I think I’m ok.” It was silent for a minute before Anakin moved to sit in front of you on the bed. You sat with your back up against the wall with a pillow wedged between and your legs crossed. The meaning of the silence was clear. “I just – I don’t think that I want to talk about it yet.” You turned your head to your lap, and watched as he placed his much larger hands over your own.

“It’s okay, I understand the feeling.” The silence swept over you, the words got caught in your throat, choking you. Your eyes and throat seemed to burn. He only moved his thumb over your hand, acting as an anchor. He shoved your knee slightly, getting your attention.

“Y’know, as a wise jedi knight once told me, ‘you’re the strongest person I know, you’ll get through this’.” You laughed despite yourself, and Anakin’s hand beat yours to wiping the tears from your face.

“Thanks, Ani,” you sniffled, and you couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your cheeks when he didn’t move his hand.

“Of course, you know I’d do anything for you right? I was really worried when Obi-Wan had to carry you back here.” Your heart skipped a beat, and your stomach churned. If that wasn’t attachment, you don’t know what was.  You couldn’t bring yourself to point that out however. You knew that you’d do the same for him. You sighed.

“Anakin-I” you started, but you couldn’t seem to string together the words. Your heart raised in your throat, and he gave you a momentarily confused look. “You’re amazing, you know that? You-just-I- you always seem to ‘get’ me and I really appreciate that you’re always here for me and I-um” It was something that you’d never said before. You’d felt that way for him for the longest time, but you ignored it for the code. So instead of saying it, you closed your eyes, and pushed your signature out to brush his, hoping that it carried the years of longing, and the warmth that just looking at him brought you. And then a wave of the same feeling washed over you. It made your heart jump and you almost cried at the pure joy that came from him.

And then you could feel his breath on your face, and the most cautious of kisses. It was barely there, almost just a brush of the lips, but the feelings were all there. Foreheads pressed together, two hearts racing. Cautious, because of the code, because you both knew what could happen it you strayed, because of all the secrets that would have to exist. A whisper, like he was afraid that if he said it too loud, someone else might hear him, despite it just being the two of you.

“I love you.” Both your hands flew to his cheeks and pulled him closer again, and one of his drifted from your cheek to the back of your neck to hold you there. When you kissed this time, you threw caution to the wind. He kissed just as hard as you did, and stole your breath as he did.

When you pulled apart, the look you shared said everything. You smiled and breathed out a short laugh. To hell with the kriffing code.

“I love you too.”

                                                            <>

You supposed it was inevitable, you were the one he went to when he was mad at Obi-Wan, when he was so overwhelmed that he could barely think, when a mission hadn’t gone well and he needed to calm down. Therefore, this meant all the secret moments you were to share in the future were inevitable. You hadn’t even considered the possibility of what would happen in the future when you threw out caution. Was it inevitable that you were at least partly at fault for everything going to shit? Had that meant his fall was inevitable too?

[jasontoddiefor]

As Lightning to the Children Eased Chapter 5

In which we are still not back on Naboo but Anakin has a Force-breakdown! Read on AO3!

Padmé hadn’t been sure what to expect of their Jedi protectors when she had first met them. They had certainly protected them well against the invading droids, but they had still come too late. Her planet had been invaded, her people hurt, beaten, and forced to endure whatever cruelties she didn’t even dare imagine.

And all of that because the Jedi had been too late and hadn’t been able to talk to the Trade Federation.

For the first few minutes, adrenaline rushing through her veins, fear clinging to her heels and guilt squeezing her throat shut, Padmé had been angry like a child. She had been so incredibly frustrated at them and her own helplessness, even though intellectually she knew very well that it was not the Jedi’s fault that Naboo’s situation had come so far. If anything, she should be glad the Jedi had come at all.

Without their aid, Padmé would likely be rotting away in a cell now, or perhaps even be tortured, or be forced to watch her best friends be hurt just so that the Trade Federation would gain whatever advantage they were aiming for.

For the first time since she had been made Queen, Padmé truly doubted her chosen path. She wondered if any of the other candidates would have done better than her, but when she looked at Eirtaé she only saw the same worries staring back at her. In that split second Padmé was glad that it was Sabé acting as the Queen and that she as Padmé, the Handmaiden, could allow herself a moment of weakness where she didn’t have to hide her emotions.

It had been easier to be Queen when she was a mere representative of the government and not its whole body. The emergency laws now in power gave Padmé much more power than she should carry. They had been created when entertaining the possibility of an invasion, not because they had actually thought it would come this far.

Naboo was a part of the Republic – what use was the Republic if it could not protect its own?

She was bitter and exhausted and she wanted to go home. Not back to the suit in the palace, she wanted to go home to her family. She wanted to hug her parents and play games with her sister and leave this all behind and for once let somebody with more experience deal with it.

Unfortunately, this was not meant to be.

And whatever she had hoped to achieve in the Senate had also crumbled to dust with the Trade Federation once more speaking out against her. Bastards that they were, Padmé wanted to take out her hairpin and stab it right into the representative’s chest, see how he liked it when his heart broke as his people suffered and starved.

“Do you think going back is really the wisest option?” Sabé asked her as they got dressed. Padmé became the handmaiden once more as Sabé took on the appearance of Queen Amidala. It was really been a miracle and a blessing to have Sabé at her side. The Naboo were skilled in hiding their faces and their intentions, but Sabé and her had a special connection, or so it felt at times.

They were closer than sisters. Padmé would even go as far as to call them soulmates, two halves of the same mask.

“I’m not sure,” Padmé replied. She ought to be lying, to be reassuring her friends, but they would all just see through it. They had been taught to read her entire mind by the curl of her painted lips. “But what other option do we have?”

“Think the Jedi will come with us again?” Eirtaé asked. “They were useful, even little Ani.”

Rabé snorted out loud and tugged her hair beneath her hood.

“'Can I fly the ship? Do you know what planets are in this system? Have you ever had Alderaani pudding?’” Rabé’s voice was a little high pitched as she tried to copy the voice of the boy. “’Do you know what makes a star collapse?’”

They all sobered up at that last question.

Anakin had truly chattered endlessly during the whole trip, seemingly untouched by the events that had taken place around him. While his sunny demeanor had been nerve-wracking at first, Padmé had come to enjoy it. It was nice to focus on something that wasn’t politics for just a few hours at a time. Besides, Anakin had been so sure that they would manage to save her people. He had looked so serious as he had said it then, as if it was a fact already. Something about that had just made her want to believe him.

Truth be told, Padmé hadn’t thought that Anakin was old enough to be accompanying them, he was so young for such an undertaking. The Naboo were known for getting their children involved in politics at an age most systems wouldn’t even consider doing such, but he had still looked so much younger than them. Nevertheless, Master Kenobi and Jinn had treated him as their full mission partner.

But who was Padmé to judge the Jedi for their practices, especially after they had helped them so?

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t hurt to ask,” Padmé replied. “And Sabé never did get to share her famed pear pie recipe with him.”

“Oh, don’t remind me!” Sabé groaned. “I’d kill for one of those now!”

The group of girls descended into blissful laughter, the death threats hanging over their heads fading into the background.

X

Anakin was distracted, Qui-Gon was exhausted and Obi-Wan had to prove to the Council that he was a capable Master and that this mission had gone as well as it could have. From the way the other Jedi Masters were staring at them, he got the vague impression that he was not being as convincing as he could have been.

“-and that was when we landed here,” Obi-Wan finished his statement. “Anakin has proven himself capable and followed my directives exceptionally well.”

The slight joke hit its mark as it did make many Masters smile, if not outright grin. It was well-known that Anakin Skywalker was a little stubborn and all too willing to do things his own way if he thought he knew better. Oftentimes, that ended in utter chaos, for all that Anakin had the knowledge of the entire galaxy stored in his head somewhere, he was still a nine-year-old boy and kids his aged tripped and fell.

It was Obi-Wan’s job to ensure he would also get up again.

“The Queen wants to return to her planet,” Qui-Gon added after he’d been silent throughout the entire briefing.

Obi-Wan barely managed to hide a wince. He had taken over leading their mission briefings a couple of years ago, preparing for his Knighting. Qui-Gon only really spoke up to add to it or, in the cases that had them all stuck up here for hours, to argue about whatever conclusion he had reached and attempt to convince everyone of his opinion. In that way, he was very much Anakin’s grandmaster. “She has called for a vote of no confidence after her Senator’s urging.”

And that move was more than just a little shady. Destabilizing the Republic leadership now was not exactly the smartest move, but Obi-Wan was not a politician and chances were that whatever upheaval would come, it wasn’t going to do much to the Jedi Order. The Senate leadership had become stagnant over the years and their relationship with the Order hadn’t changed much. With every changing terms, the Order maybe got some more requests from Senators that were usually talked over as everybody else was busy gearing up for a campaign. Involving Jedi in your political campaign was always a risky move as public opinion of the Jedi tended to vary a lot. It was a safer bet to keep them out of politics.

“They have requested that we accompany them again,” Qui-Gon finished.

“A wise course of action you think this is?” Master Yoda asked. “Tired Padawan Skywalker is.”

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both looked down at Anakin. He was exhausted, yes, reaching to somewhere far away, zoned out right up until Yoda addressed him.

“I need to go,” Anakin insisted, back straight. “It’s important.”

Obi-Wan actually wouldn’t mind handing the mission off to another pair of perhaps a more experienced Knights, but he knew that expression on Anakin’s face better than anybody else. He was determined to see this through and there was no telling what he’d do if he wouldn’t return to Naboo. Perhaps sneak onto the ship of the ones who would go.

“Are you sure?” Obi-Wan asked.

Anakin nodded, his sun-kissed face oddly pale. “Something’s coming. I need to be there.”

His tone of voice was ominous, his words dripped from his lips like a poisonous prophecy. The Force called and Obi-Wan heard its echo.

And with that their decision was settled.

X

They made a small stop at the crèche to greet Ahsoka. The excited youngling lit up as soon as she saw them and excused herself in only a short few words before she rushed into Anakin’s waiting arms. From there she quickly climbed upon Obi-Wan’s back and let herself be carried throughout the temple. They didn’t have much time here, not for more for a meal which they had to eat in the cafeteria as Shmi was apparently not in the temple.

“Where is Shmi Skywalker?” Qui-Gon asked the nearest Jedi, a Nautolan Master only a few years younger than himself, as he got something to eat for himself.

“Padawan Skywalker you mean?” the Knight asked, their eyes twinkling with amusement.

Qui-Gon stopped shoveling fruit salad onto his tray. “Padawan?”

The other Jedi Master grinned. “Oh, yes. Haven’t you wondered why Yaddle didn’t attend the Council meeting? She decided to take on Shmi as her Padawan. It was the most brilliant thing.”

Obi-Wan turned to Anakin, who had been caught up in a silent conversation with Ahsoka, miles and two realities away from where they were. “Did you know?”

Anakin tilted his head at the question and closed his eyes for a brief moment, concentrating. When he opened his eyes again, they were a kaleidoscope of colors, a thousand worlds within his sight.

“Yes,” he said his teeth just an edge too sharp in Obi-Wan’s vision. “The kyber’s whispering to her now. She’s going to bring the cleansing fires.” Anakin’s eyes faded to their usual blue color, though the flicker of sunlight didn’t leave them as he reached for Ahsoka’s hands, holding them tight. “It’s not going to like it.”

“It? Who?”

But Anakin stayed silent.

X

After their meal, Qui-Gon got the notification that the Queen’s departure was delayed and so they had another two hours to relax. As expected, Qui-Gon was dragged back to the Skywalker’s rooms where Anakin and Obi-Wan repacked for their mission. Qui-Gon spent that time napping on the Skywalker’s sofa with little Ahsoka sitting on his stomach, rambling about what she had been up to since they had left the temple. Qui-Gon was fairly sure that when he had been her age, his teachers hadn’t let him even touch a training saber, but the child described in detail how much fun she had had training with one. Saying goodbye to her again hurt a little and silently Qui-Gon vowed not to abandon his lineage or active mission duty until he got to see Ahsoka fight and grow into the terror she was bound to be.

They took a speeder to the hangers of the Senatorial suits where the Queen’s party was already waiting for them. Qui-Gon was glad to see that all the girls were accounted for and visibly perked up when they spotted the Jedi approach them.

“Master Jinn, Master Kenobi, Padawan Skywalker,“ one of the Handmaidens greeted them formally. “We are glad you’ve decided to return to Naboo for us.”

“Of course,” Qui-Gon retorted. “That’s what we are here for.”

“Still,” she replied. “The Queen is aware that you are doing more than we can ask of you three.”

Qui-Gon inclined his head and opened his mouth to speak when suddenly the world shifted-

Pain ripped through him, through the Force, sharp as a lightning strike. A sudden nausea overtook him and Qui-Gon felt as lost as he never had before, not even after Thal’s death. He thought he was drowning, lost in a storm, suffocating endlessly. Something was pulling him into the dark depths of an endless ocean. The void engulfed him and no light from the surface fell into his eyes, leaving him not just blind, but deprived of all sensations. Ice froze his flesh, broke it to pieces, chipped away more and more of himself until only his very soul was left and even then, sharp claws dug into him, pressed intensely into his mind like needles. His consciousness began to bleed, red drops of innocent compassion dropping to the floor like raindrops, becoming muddled with darkness and dirt on the ground.

He vaguely registered Obi-Wan next to him, Anakin too, his shields frayed and bleeding out like a body on a surgical table. Qui-Gon could feel Obi-Wan reaching out, tugging at his own light and crafting bandages out of them, helplessly wrapping them around Anakin’s very being in hopes of mending the never-ending number of cuts. Where he succeeded, the shields that had always been a little like mirrors, transparent glass reflecting your self in the Force, became durasteel walls of protection, cutting Anakin off so rashly that Qui-Gon was caught off balance. Anakin’s presence in the Force was near unbearable when they had first met him, but his absence was even worse, leaving Qui-Gon a starving man in the desert. On unsteady feet, Qui-Gon stumbled after Obi-Wan and Anakin, whom he thought to see running into the ship, fleeing from the monster they had uncovered.

“Master Jedi?” He thought he heard the Handmaiden ask.

He wanted to reply, and perhaps the words ‘security check’ did leave his mouth, but he couldn’t be too sure, caught in this cruel spiderweb where every move only entangled him more, a prey ready for slaughter. He just walked forwards, hand pressed to his mind, clinging to the cool walls of the hsip, trying to stitch together what had been ripped wide open.

When he came to, he found himself rushing towards the fresher.

Obi-Wan sat there in the small room, looking so much like the boy he had taken as his Padawan in the aftermath of a terrifying trial he shouldn’t have had to go through in the first place. Qui-Gon had been so blind then and now he found himself struck with the same blindness, except the image that was starting to unravel was even worse.

Obi-Wan had collapsed against the wall and Anakin was half in his lap, clammy fingers holding onto Obi-Wan’s robes while his head was lowered above the toilet, vomiting up the few greens he had eaten for their last meal. His whole body seemed to twitch unnaturally like there was something hidden beneath his skin which was even paler than before. Anakin appeared like a ghost only inhabiting this shell for as long as it served its purpose, something much too grand pressed into this small body and rebelling against its constraints. Anakin kept throwing up until only acid burned his throat. He cried, tears running over his cheeks as the cold got closer and closer, so much that Qui-Gon expected to see his own breath as a hazy fog.

“Sssh,” Obi-Wan tried to calm his Padawan, his own eyes bloodshot, the afterimage of a night terror. “All is well, I’m here, we’re warm, we’re safe, all is well, I’m here…”

His ramblings were almost meditative, repetitive, drawing the same pattern, guiding Anakin towards steady breaths as much as they grounded Qui-Gon.

It took another few minutes, or perhaps hours, time slipped away as easily as the light of stars already dead thousands of years, Anakin managed to calm down. He was still a shivering mess in Obi-Wan’s arms, but he was no longer vomiting up his guts or crying uncontrollably.

“What-“ Qui-Gon couldn’t speak. He didn’t know how to describe it, this pain, this agony, the-

Poison, darkness, decay, tor, burn it, BURN IT, IT IS KILLING ME, US, EACH AND EVERY ONE OF MY CHILDREN-

“There was nothing,” Anakin mumbled his soft voice a contrast to the screeching in Qui-Gon’s heart. “It was nothing, just the absence, the end of space and of time and of life and he will deplete us of everything and there will be darkness and there will be no death, there will be nothing!”

Anakin’S voice grew more frantic, louder until Qui-Gon wasn’t sure if Anakin was truly speaking anymore or just carving his words into Qui-Gon’s mind.

“It’s infecting us, I’m sick, sick, bilious, and all that bubbles up my throat are decaying orbits. It’s devouring my flesh and I will leave and the fractures and bigger and bigger and it’s ripping me apart and I can see my heart beating!”

At this Anakin began to curl into himself, placing his hands on his heart. His eyes were glassy, seeing a world Qui-Gon couldn’t perceive and he couldn’t shake this double vision off. “It’s awful, take it away Obi-Wan, I don’t want to be here, I want to go, I want to go, it’s hurting me, I don’t want to be bound anymore, help me, Obi-Wan, please-!“

Anakin began to cry again, scratching at his own skin, deeper and deeper until the scratches turned red.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, his voice in a realm beyond panic. “Anakin, no, no, no, dear one, don’t do this.”

He took Anakin’s hands in his own, so he would stop harming himself, but Anakin only began trashing, resisting. They needed to sedate him and they needed to do it now.

“Sleep,” Qui-Gon ordered, focusing on Anakin.

He’d always been good with mind tricks.

Slipping into another’s mind, finding cracks where to insert your own thoughts and demands. His Master had been worried about it when Qui-Gon had been young. It was an ability easily misused, an ability that made him quite valuable in the right circles if word got out about it and his Master had been keen to protect him from it.

Qui-Gon would be the last to claim that he didn’t rely on it a little too often, but he was also one of the Jedi often sent into the worst of the worst situations. He had never dared to use it on another Jedi, would never think of using it on Anakin whose mind was an uncomfortable place to reside in even when he was peaceful.

There were certain boundaries in every mind. They shifted ever so slightly in every person depending on what you had experienced, but with Anakin, it was simply as if they had never been there in the first place. Qui-Gon didn’t want to look at what rifts ran through Anakin’s mind because he wasn’t sure they wouldn’t lash out and pull him in and swallow him whole. He’d be entrapped in the universe, in the melting point of a star, the heart of existence and he wouldn’t be able to escape.

But what other choice did he have?

“Obi-Wan,” he said, his Padawan’s name command, prayer, and apology all at once. Obi-Wan was the only one so deeply connected to Anakin that he could bear to stand in his revelation. He understood Anakin as much as anybody ever could, to a degree that was foreign to even Shmi and would likely also never be within Ahsoka’s reach. The bond Anakin had forced upon Obi-Wan when he had been driven more by instinct and need than wisdom and control sang with power.

Qui-Gon begged for the same strength.

There was no gentle way of doing this with Anakin.

Qui-Gon took one last breath of sweet air, then he stepped into the wildness of space. It was freezing, but not the all-consuming cold of before, that took from him until he had nothing left, not even his mind. This was cold of existence, the contrast between the endlessness and points of existence near stars that were just ticking bombs, waiting for their final explosion.

All of this was Anakin and Qui-Gon didn’t know what to reach for.

He followed a path of broken glass, sharp emeralds, kyber, dug into his bare feet, leaving cuts all over. Every step was agonizing, depriving him of his strength and taking more than a century. Around him planets were born and destroyed in the same breath as Qui-Gon moved past them into the tangled cadences of orchestras, strings tugging him in different directions, asking him to follow their tune. His vision swam with colors repainting the world he saw.

And still, despite it all, he carried on. The temptation was sweet, he knew he could be home here, in this place where he had been born and where he would go once he ended.

He was one with the Force and the Force was with him, always.

But Qui-Gon refused that they truly wanted him to remain here. This was like Ilum, the innermost sanctums of the temples he had visited, a trial to prove himself.

And Qui-Gon would not fail this child who needed him.

He pushed through another door and found himself embraced by the most humbling of experiences.

“How cruel they were,” Qui-Gon muttered, gazing upon eternity imprisoned in a mortal mind. “Forcing you into this.”

Anakin wept and tried to tear at the chains pinning him down, keeping him constraint in the body that had been crafted for him. He was a mess of blood, stars, nebulas, stories written in languages that had never been spoken and never would again.

Anakin hadn’t been meant to possess a consciousness, Qui-Gon realized. He hadn’t ever been supposed to exist at all. The Force had pushed a scalpel into itself to carve out something that could eradicate all its other infected wounds, but, as with all self-inflicted injuries, this action too had damaged it.

It was the utmost cruelty, to themself and to the being they had created. This task was too much for one person. The entire galaxy was a bleeding, festering wound and Anakin couldn’t be enough to clean it, never mind do all the stitches to close it afterward.

And here Anakin was now, trashing because he had become aware of the darkness growing right beneath their noses. He was panicking because he had glimpsed upon his purpose in this world and had understood down in his very core that he was lacking despite all the gifts he had already been given.

Anakin cried and cried, and Qui-Gon had to watch as the same gentle feathers he sometimes saw flickering outside his vision on his Padawan’s back were trying to cover Anakin’s many all-seeing eyes, take away that horrible truth he had choked on.

But Obi-Wan, for all that he likely understood more of the Force now than Qui-Gon had up until now, was still so young and not strong enough.

Qui-Gon didn’t know if he would be strong enough, but what kind of Jedi would he be if he didn’t at least try?

“Let me teach you one last thing,” Qui-Gon muttered.

Messing with memories was a delicate task. Qui-Gon had read as much about it as the temple archives had permitted him too. He had been terrified at fifteen that he might overpower his hold on another’s mind and would erase their self completely. That in his demand of obedience the Force had gifted him with, he wouldn’t heed its gentle encouragements and push beyond all reasonable requests.

The Jedi were skilled when it came to the manipulation of ones’ self or mind. Revan came to mind, a Jedi made Sith and forged into Jedi again. It hadn’t been perfect, hadn’t been stable, but this needn’t be either.

It just had to be enough.

Qui-Gon laid one hand on the first chain tying Anakin down and tugged at the Force and the way they bound the world together. He just had to reshape it, turn cold metal into warm blankets, not keeping him chained up, but giving Anakin a place to rest and retreat to. If Anakin forgot that these chains were meant to bind him, then perhaps he would cease struggling against them.

One by one Qui-Gon reworked the chains into sweet comforts and watched as Anakin closed his eyes, returning to a peaceful slumber. The child, so much larger than Qui-Gon in his own mind, impossible to entirely understand his beginnings and endings, didn’t grow any smaller. He nevertheless calmed, stopped struggling so that Qui-Gon had to worry less and less about Anakin accidentally cutting himself at these manipulations.

Only the future would tell how long these would hold him back and grant him peace of mind.

Or if Anakin would ever forgive him for this once he discovered how Qui-Gon had warped his reality just to keep him tied to them a little longer.

“It is done,” Qui-Gon announced, his voice echoing in the small fresher.

His knees buckled under him and he caught himself on the washbasin only in the last second.

Anakin was asleep in Obi-Wan’s arms, dead to the world.

“Is he- is he alright?” Obi-wan asked, clinging to his Padawan as much as Anakin was holding onto him.

Qui-Gon observed the steady rise and fall of Anakin’s chest, then sighed only tiredly. He felt much older than the years he had counted, the millennia within Anakin’s heart not fading away as quickly as he’d like them to.

“He will be,” Qui-Gon promised.

He didn’t know if he was lying, but he knew he was not speaking the truth either.

[himboskywalker]

Hey, i read your fic This was Obi-wan and it was great, i loved it! I loved seeing how Obi-Wan thought that Anakin would never want him and when he found out he did he was just so !!!! Eager! Happy! Ready to go and nodding his head. Can i pretty please have some headcanons or a fic or even a 6 sentences scrap of SOMETHING. I’m such a sucker for these two and i love not seeing 100% obi-wan being guilty and needing convincing. I’m convinced that when their older he would be exactly how you wrote

Thank you I’m glad you liked it!I just adore the concept of Obi-Wan sort of swept along and helplessly besotted as Anakin just barrels through any romantic moments between them,beside himself just from Obi existing.

Here’s some tooth rotting fluff because Clone Wars got me mad sad right now.

They sit in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, among the lush and fragrant grasses. He feels the life and soothing coolness beneath his palms,smells the sweetness of the plants and the running water.None of the surrounding tranquility soothes him now.The melody of the force does not gentle his thundering pulse,the chirping of the birds and warmth of the sun through the domed ceiling do not lend him the inner calm they normally do.

Obi-Wan peers at him,face pulled into worry as he sits cross-legged across from his own folded knees,as if he is meditating.He isn’t though,they are both waiting.

“Are you sure you want me here,dear one?”He asks.”It is an intensely...private moment.”

He shakes his head,sweat dampening the baby hairs curling against his temple.”No--no I can’t imagine you not here,master.After all,you will always have to tolerate my soulmate and they you.”

His master smiles soft and fond and they fall into peaceful silence.Or well,it is peaceful for Obi-Wan,Anakin sweats and continues to feel his heart hammer against his ribs like it might crawl out of him at any moment.He waits for the numbers on his commlink to blink twice more,for the minutes to align exactly to the moment of his birth,for the universe to recognize he has lived and breathed for eighteen years and grant him the ink on his skin to find the other shattered half of his broken soul.

It blinks once...and it blinks twice.His breath catches in his throat,like the force itself is squeezing his lungs in its tight fist,and Obi-Wan leans forward to pull his flesh hand into his,squeezing reassuringly. 

“I’m with you my padawan,just breathe.”

His skin burns,along the inseam of his flesh forearm,hot and aching like the singe of a practice saber.It isn’t terribly surprising,the arm is the most common place for a soulmark to appear.He is only grateful it is his flesh one.It was his only anxiety when he lost his hand to Dooku,that he might have been losing his soulmate as well.

It burns and burns and then ink blooms across his pale skin,cerulean blue and thick.Obi-Wan still holds his hand,with his arm stretched between them and Anakin blinks,dumbfounded.Because he knows these lines,knows the curls of the ink splatter and drips of pigment.He has known this particular splotch of color for nine years,known it better than he knows his own face,for how many times he traced its contours longingly with his gaze.

“Oh,”he gasps in wonder.He finally flicks his stare from his blue stained arm to meet Obi-Wan’s equally blue eyes.His master looks blindsided,lips parted on a silent gasp.

“It’s you,”he says,voice shaking.

Anakin reaches between them and twines his fingers around the inner bend of Obi-Wan’s elbow,slotting their twin tattoos to press together.It ushers no deep physical spark like he expects,but it makes his insides feel like they are melting into boiling syrup all the same,makes some throbbing wound in his soul flutter suddenly whole,as if the rip inside him his entire life, from half of himself torn away,were never there at all.

There are tears in Obi-Wan’s eyes and they glimmer over the blue of his irises like moonlight on the tide.He lifts their woven arms and drags his lips along the seam of their pressed skin,before gently pulling just Anakin’s arm to his mouth.He kisses the blue stained skin with reverence,like he is something to be worshiped,something to write psalms and prayers to.Maybe he is,because the matching ink on their skin feels like a miracle,like a benediction. 

Tears gather in his own eyes as Obi-Wan drags the softness of his lips up his arm and then presses the silken petals of his mouth to Anakin’s.

“Oh my darling,”he says,”I can’t believe the force gave you to me.”

[knightotoc]

I can't really rank the SW movies, but I can sort of put them in categories. I wrote a bit about each one because I've never seen a list in an order like mine, though if you're asking me to be rational that is something I know I cannot do.

(This is really long)

1. The ones I love the most: 

Attack of the Clones

🍐 favorite characters, favorite planets

🍐 my soul is anchored to early naughts high-key cheesy emo, à la Raimi Spider-Mans

🍐 most Jedi per square inch

🍐 it's pretty and it kicks ass

🍐 the romance is the A-plot for ONCE

🍐 AND it's a "dark middle chapter" that pulls no fucking punches, the whole Tatooine sequence is just hnnnnggrhhh BRUTAL

🍐 the only "dark middle chapter" in which the person explaining the Jedi way (Anakin) doesn't believe in it and the person listening (Padme) doesn't want to join but just cares about him

🍐 morally ambiguous organized religion/monasticism/chivalry are interesting and personally important subjects to me, a Catholic feminist who majored in Medieval Studies

🍐 the hinge between two time periods I love, "Obi Wan trains Anakin" and "the Clone Wars"

🍐 sets up both Clone Wars shows and both KotORs

Return of the Jedi

🐻 SO much fun, SO much imagination

🐻 like RotS, both the silliest and the most tragic in its trilogy (and imo it pulls it off)

🐻 the ending -- Luke tossing his lightsaber, Palpatine killing him, Anakin saving him -- I just -- gahhhh that's what it's all about, dude😭😭😭 It makes me love the Jedi SO MUCH!

🐻 Luke's plan to rescue Han is as bonkers as Dooku's plan to begin the war and I'm obsessed

🐻 Leia's hair down and Luke in black👌

The Last Jedi

🍸 absolute masterpiece of tragedy and hope

🍸 it's so SMART and has this wisdom that brings me so much comfort facing personal failures and societal horrors

🍸 "That's how we win -- not by fighting what we hate, but saving what we love" -- Rose the Queen of Themes

🍸 the cave scene in which Luke summarizes the prequels and Rey summarizes the original trilogy is so validating

🍸 "Where's Han?" [cut to Kylo]

🍸 all the transitions but that one ^^^^ especially

🍸 best visions in the movies (Rey's mirrors and Luke's twin suns)

🍸 Yoda is the best ghost and wisest teacher as he deserves😭

🍸 Leia Vader parallels are my biggest weakness

Revenge of the Sith

🔥 I can't handle this one

🔥 it's straight up Camelot and Lancelot is my favorite invention in all of fiction, and here he is as an evil space wizard

🔥 I literally can't listen to this soundtrack and drive because I get too sad

🔥 they hate each other SO MUCH ahhgggg, NO other characters come close to this level of emotion

🔥 the Matthew Stover novelization is even more beautiful

🔥 this meta-level tragedy, the dramatic irony of a guy who has been evil since 1977, a name similar to the Greek goddess of inevitability, the swirling destiny of his "prophecy" and his doom, but still I'm like "DON'T DO IT ANI" as if he ever had a chance

🔥 they play the fucking ANH medals theme at the end of the credits and it blows my mind. Absolutely brilliant

🔥 can you believe that only RotS and TLJ have shirtless scenes in them

2. The ones I also really love:

The Phantom Menace

😈 best soundtrack. All the prequels have the most thoughtful and interesting music in my opinion, but I could go on forever about TPM's.

😈 my favorite musical piece in all of SW is the Baby Anakin theme. It's so terribly sad; it sounds to me like rivers and waterfalls. They use it several times in AotC, too. The end of the melody transitions into the Imperial March😭

😈 Duel of the Fates is the actual star of the movie, of course; the words are a Sanskrit translation of a medieval Welsh poem. Ask me about how the lyrics apply to the fates of Qui-Gon, Maul, and Obi-Wan because I've FIGURED IT OUT

😈 also the cleverest piece in SW is Augie's Municipal Band, the parade theme, which is the Emperor's theme from RotJ in major key and sped up

😈 speaking of Palpatine, this is his best movie and I've basically sold my soul to him so👏👏👏we stan

😈 I've probably thought and written the most about this movie and the time periods around it, the training of Maul and Anakin. If you can believe it😅

Empire Strikes Back

☁️ it's the best one

☁️ the "dark middle chapter" that sets the standard for AotC and TLJ

☁️ "Luminous beings are we"😭

☁️ Bespin Leia is the best look in the movies

☁️ "The evil lord Darth Vader, OBSESSED with finding young Skywalker"😂 Ani has a reason to live again, oh no

A New Hope

🤖 the only one you need

🤖 an actual piece of magic on Earth

🤖 Old Obi-Wan is heartache personified

🤖 bow down to Tarkin

🤖 best droid movie

Solo

🎲 the other kissy movie

🎲 SO much fun; John Powell puts so much energy and excitement in his music

🎲 how does this random movie have the best character designs after AotC

🎲 GIRL DROID!!!

🎲 really different point of view on the central theme of family

🎲 that cameo tho

🎲 where's my sequel

Rogue One

🌠 the most visually beautiful SW movie; it fits into the tradition of beautiful 70s sci-fi movies like 2001 and Star Trek TMP, which focus on the hugeness and wonder of outer space

🌠 can Cassian and Rose please overthrow the government

🌠 I have a real theater poster of this one in my room :D (I also have one of TLJ)

🌠 does so right by Vader

🌠 makes the Rebellion more complicated, just like the prequels did to the Jedi Order

3. The ones I don't like:

The Force Awakens

The Rise of Skywalker

I want to like them, especially TFA, but I find it difficult. I feel like they lack confidence as stories, and they don't take things like death and faith very seriously. Many planets explode, but they are grieved even less than Alderaan is in ANH. And if you just pray hard enough, God will help you out. It bothers me that THAT was the culmination of Rey's spiritual journey, versus the more relatable and dramatic endings for the male Jedi protagonists Luke, Anakin, and Ezra.

I have rewatched TFA a few times and I like parts of it, like the scavenging setting in the beginning and how handsome everyone is. Some of Maz's lines justify the borrowed plot in an interesting way. And I've thought of some headcanons to make TRoS more okay, because they did so wrong by Palpatine but not necessarily by "the Sith" as a Borg-like force of evil that, I guess, consumed him. So despite JJ's best efforts, I'm trying to make this work.

[butchgwenwhyvar]

“And all the stars that scream” “there are no happy endings” “what endings find us happiness”

OW FLAIM WHYYYY 

ok here we go

“And all the stars that scream” would be a codex fic where Rex finds out what happened to Cody on Utapau and the aftermath, and ends in Rex going to Kamino in a royal snit to try and de-brainwash his husband. Unbeknownst to him, Cody’s no longer under the influence of the chip and is training the latest batch of stormtroopers. He’s bitter and lonely and depressed and hates what he’s doing. Sure, there was no glory in war, but he was fighting for a cause, fighting for honour and safety. There’s none of that in the Empire, and now he’s just training a bunch of kids who are freshly kidnapped and scared and he has to show them how to fight and he just can’t take it anymore. The Empire gets hold of Rex and tortures him in front of Cody, and Cody can’t do anything but watch and scream as his husband is slowly killed in front of him. 

Eventually, the rebellion (and Ahsoka) comes to rescue them because Rex got a distress beacon out before he was captured and they get to a safe planet, but it’s too late to save Rex. He gets his happy reunion with Cody, but he dies in his husband’s arms. His last words are probably something sappy like ‘the stars were never as beautiful as you’ (because I like tying fic titles into dialogue for some reason), and Cody joins the rebellion and fights for all that Rex tried to save him from

(and now I’m sad and I want to write this. It’d probably be a multi-chapter epic with a giant playlist and fanart or something)

I thought about turning “There are no happy endings” into my usual obianidala with Obi-Wan moping post RotS but I’ve written three and posted two of those and it’s utterly fucking typical for me, so I’d say this would either be Vader reminiscing about the war and how happy he was and how he fucked it up, or it could be force ghost! Padme looking at Vader and Obi-Wan moping and murdering. 

If we went Vader, it would start with Anakin and Obi-Wan and Padme waking up together and having a peaceful morning with the twins and Ahsoka dropping in and it’s all happy. And then Vader wakes up feeling slightly unsettled, like something from his past’s just come out of his head and whacked him on the helmet, but he ignores it and goes about his day. He keeps seeing things in the corner of his eye though, like there’s a kid following him around the ship. He just shrugs it off because there’s stormtroopers to intimidate and a death star to build, but it keeps him wondering about what really happened to Padme and Obi-Wan and their kids (he can’t be certain, but in those last dreadful moments before Padme’s force blinked out entirely he felt two children). Eventually he confronts Palpatine about it and Palpatine goes all torture-dark-lord-etc on him.

If we went Padme, the fic would open with her death, and seeing Qui-Gon in the force. He’d probably tell her what’s going down and she sits and watches over Luke and Leia and Obi-Wan (she can’t make herself even think about Vader in the early days, can’t think of the man he used to be and the monster he’s become), and eventually figures out what Ahsoka’s doing and helps her set up fulcrum. She’d appear to Luke and Leia a few times, she’d try to talk to Obi-Wan but he’s probably crawled into a bottle or something at this point and is therefore passing off her messages as hallucinations and ignoring it. Vader, on the other hand, is so desperate to hear from anyone from his family, so he imagines Padmé everywhere even though she’s not. Padmé sees what’s going on and tries to snap Vader out of the dark but it doesn’t work, and she tries to help Obi-Wan but it doesn’t work either and the fic ends with her bemoaning her husband’s fates and being sad I guess (thus the title, ‘there are no happy endings’. If I was actually gonna write this fic, it would be called ‘(there are no) happy endings’ just to drive the angst home).

(Oh no I kinda wanna write this one as well)

“What endings find us happiness” would be an au where Anakin didn’t fall, Padme didn’t die, Obi-Wan didn’t go off moping in the desert, and (most of) the clones listened to Rex and Fives and took out their chips. Fives survived because Fox had his guns on stun (like they were supposed to be) and so he was only knocked out; he was around for Anaxes and getting Echo back. 

Mustafar plays out differently, with Obi-Wan and Anakin fighting a fallen Barriss, and as they’re barely escaping with their lives, Padme goes into labour. They end up at Polis Massa with Bail and Yoda etc, when the truth comes out about obianidala’s relationship. Yoda tells Anakin that Ahsoka is most likely dead, but Anakin insists that he can still feel her in the force. There’s an epic screaming match between Obi-Wan and Anakin, who are all for going off and looking for survivors, and Yoda, who wants everyone to go into a nice quiet exile. 

Anakin ends up pinching a ship with his spouses and tiny children (Bail offers to look after them for a while and they very nearly take him up on it) and heading to the Mandalore system to try and find Ahsoka and the clones. Padme suggests that they check Utapau to see if Cody’s alive (and not under the 66 trance as well) but Obi-Wan can’t face it and Anakin’s freaking tf out about Ahsoka so they ignore Utapau for now. 

Once they get to Mandalore, they find that Rex and Ahsoka have gone missing (and possibly the fake grave that they set up in the Ahsoka novel), as well as a dying Kix and a freaking out Jesse, with Fives and Echo nowhere to be found. Everyone freaks out and grabs the two survivors (despite the two clones involved in the chip debacle being 501, not many listened to Fives. A few removed their chips, and tried to protect Ahsoka when 66 went off but were gunned down. Rex and Jesse barely escaped with their lives, and Kix was shot several times while trying to save a brother) and they go off on a massive road trip, looking for everyone else. Kix recovers slowly in this time, but Anakin has to build him a prosthetic leg and he’s still in a lot of pain. Jesse usually refuses to leave his side. 

They’re about six months into the ‘road trip’ (complemented with newborns, injury recovery, and the usual PTSD and nightmares combo that they all have) when they find Rex, who’s laying low somewhere in the outer rim. Rex has no idea where Ahsoka went after they parted ways, so they start methodically checking all the planets near Mandalore first, and then they get to Thabeska and find her there, about to head back to Raada to save Kaeden and Miara (they also find out about Bail’s rebellion at this point). Raada plays out pretty much the same. Ahsoka still gets her sabers, and Bail ends up hiding them on Alderaan until the proper rebel base is set up. 

Once the base is set up and they’re monitoring Imperial chatter, they hear reports about two renegade clones causing trouble in the outer rim territories. They start to monitor those frequencies more carefully, and eventually hear of an attack on Kamino by these two. Obi-Wan and Padme, who become the commanders of that particular base, send Anakin and a squad of X-Wings to Kamino to extract the clones and help them out. 

The clones turn out to be Fives and Echo, trying to rescue Cody and Wolffe, and any other clones, dechipped or not (Wolffe’s chip was damaged when Ventress took his eye, he managed to pull himself out of the 66 trance just after Plo was shot down). Anakin and his squad get them out with a couple casualties (Bly is still on Kamino when Fives takes out his chip, he sacrifices himself so that the others can escape because he can’t live with the fact that he killed his General, his riduur) and head back to the base. 

There’s lots of tearful reunions when they get off the ship. Ahsoka immediately launches herself at Fives and Echo. Rex and Cody refuse to leave each other’s sides for ages, and there’s a very emotional conversation had along the lines of ‘I should have listened to you’. Cody and Obi-Wan have their reunion as well and that’s sad as hell.

Life goes on in the Rebellion, Kaeden and Ahsoka get married when they turn 20, and the twins grow up with X-wings for playgrounds and the sounds of air-raid sirens as a lullaby (some nights, when Padme’s waiting up for Anakin, who’s in an X-wing far above, engaged in desperate dogfights with the TIE’s that Palpatine sends, and Obi-Wan’s in the control room, she wishes she’d left her children with Bail or Mon. No child should grow up in a war zone. And then 3 year old Luke starts snoring in the bed beside her and Leia’s hair is in her mouth as her daughter does the octopus on her shoulder, and she thinks that she can never leave them no matter what). Other surviving Clones and Jedi make their way to the rebellion as well, until there’s a thriving community on an outer rim planet full of retired Clones and Jedi and their families. 

A New Hope plays out differently: the twins have been trained (by Ahsoka and Obi-Wan and Anakin) and they know what they’re doing, and Luke and Ahsoka waste no time in grabbing some random smuggler off of tatooine and dragging him out to the death star, where Ahsoka and Barriss fight as Han and Luke rescue Leia. The twins help their older sister and get her (injured, but alive) onto the ship, and Luke joins the death star run while his parents and sisters are chewing their nails to the quick down in the war room. 

Empire Strikes Back is much the same, including Luke heading to Dagobah because Obi-Wan,  Anakin, and Ahsoka decided they needed Yoda’s help to deal with Barriss. The Han and Leia arc plays out the same, and Luke still goes to rescue them and fights Barriss again. 

Return of the Jedi is also pretty much the same as in canon, but it’s Ahsoka and Luke who go up to the Death Star and fight the Emperor and Barriss. There’s an emotional scene between Barriss and Ahsoka at the very end, where Barriss comes back to the light and apologises for what she did. There’s a party on Endor which turns into Wedge and Luke’s impromptu wedding; Han and Leia get married a few days later. 

Everything is happy and nice and calm, no one dies, and nothing bad ever happens to them ever again the end.

(I also want to write this one as a full-blown au like what I planned modern au to be)

[staringatthetwinsuns]

On writing Luke Skywalker as a character with a disability (meta thoughts)

Inspired by this post and the immensely thoughtful reblogs that go with it, I am going to try to consolidate my thoughts, advice, pet peeves, and feels about writing Luke Skywalker as a character with a disability (and perhaps touch a bit on Anakin/Vader). This is something I've actually spent a lot of time thinking about, and I don’t see it talked about very often, but now that I know I’m not the only one who thinks about it, I thought I'd try to share my perspective at least and start a conversation. Please feel free to add to, question, or outright argue with anything here.

First, a disclaimer: I am not an amputee, a doctor, an occupational therapist, or anyone else with relevant personal experience. I have personal reasons for caring deeply about this, but the most important ones are probably just wanting to see my favorite character written well and wanting to see diverse characters represented in fiction in general, so. Take this as you will.

Also, I will say in advance that I mix person-first language ("person with a disability") and identity-first language ("disabled person") here, because I know there are people who prefer both.... apologies/warnings in advance if you strongly dislike or are triggered by either.

So, first things first, and this is really just general writing advice that could apply to any disability or ANY aspect of a character's appearance… to what extent is is even necessary to address Luke's prosthetic hand in fic? The post I linked to above was really talking about art, and in that case, I suppose you do have to make some sort of choice—to draw Luke with a natural-looking hand like he had in ESB, a black glove as in ROTJ, or a metal hand like in the sequel trilogy. In fic, however, it doesn’t always need to really be addressed at all. Again, this goes for ANY aspect of a character’s appearance, and the golden rule is: Would the POV character (the character whose point of view we are in at the moment) notice or care at this particular moment in the story? You know how it feels weird when you read a bad YA fantasy novel and the narrator says something like "I looked at him with my brilliant purple eyes, which perfectly accented my flawless ivory skin"? That’s unnatural because actual people (even teenagers, shock! horror!) don’t really go around thinking about their own eye color or how flawless their skin is (unless they're incredibly unlikable, and then why would we want to read about them?). They’d be slightly more likely to be thinking about it if their skin WASN'T flawless and that zit they found this morning was bothering them, etc. Cardinal rule: don’t mention anything the narrator or POV character wouldn’t logically be thinking about at the time.

So, whether you even need to mention Luke's hand at all probably depends on a number of factors: Whose POV are we in? When does the fic take place? (Luke's going to be more aware of his new hand between ESB and ROTJ, for example, than decades in the future.) Does anything specifically happen that reminds the POV character of the fact that his hand's a prosthetic?

Which brings me, I suppose, to the next thing: Whether it even counts as a disability at all and the fact that, EVEN IF IT DOESN'T, you still can't really ignore it as if his hand just magically regenerated.

So, first. Is having an amazing cybernetic limb in the Star Wars universe a disability? I say a cautious yes… or at the very least, it's a medical condition on the same level with say, wearing glasses or contacts or having a hip replacement or something in the real world?

I do think it depends on a lot of factors though, and movie canon, at least, doesn’t give us a lot of answers. We don’t really know how much feeling Luke has in his hand… pressure/pain is established, but what about heat or cold? Does it hurt at all (aside from pain sensors)? Is it stronger, weaker, less flexible (more flexible? That's a bit hard to imagine?) etc, than his other hand? I think it PROBABLY counts as a disability and at least counts as something that would affect his daily life in AT THE VERY LEAST small ways. More on that later.

I don’t actually remember what Legends had to say about any of this but again, movie canon doesn’t give us a lot. Here are some of the things I appreciate fanfic writers thinking about, though. (For the record, I am GUILTY AS HELL of overlooking some of this stuff myself in certain fics though, so don't feel bad if you have too… just suggestions for things we probably SHOULD be considering!)

1. How different is the sense of touch or the range of movement in Luke's prosthetic right hand, compared to his left hand? Does it affect the way he does things? Does he favor one hand over the other in certain situations because of this? Does this change as time goes by and any differences become his norm? (I'd personally think there'd be some difference… not necessarily better or worse, but different, and that over time it would definitely start to feel normal.)

2. How different does it look or feel to other people? 1980s-era special effects aside, look at the rest of the technology in the universe. Look at your own hand for goodness' sake. I can’t imagine it’s a perfect replica. Like, I can see the bones and veins in my hand. My fingernails get too long and split and have ragged cuticles. There's no WAY that anyone would even WANT a prosthetic hand that realistic, so. There's got to be some difference. Especially in a romantic or sexual situation, especially fairly soon after ESB, it seems weird not to mention this. I HAVE seen fics that addressed the body temperature issue, either by having the other character be surprised that his hand WAS warm or stating that it wasn't? I guess I personally don't think that heating would be a priority and that it might therefore be cooler than his other hand? Again, definitely not always necessary but, in certain scenes might be important and gets sometimes ignored.

3. There is no f-ing way that Luke’s hand actually ages, so… while I agree that the "Oh all the skin just fell off" idea is stupid, what DOES he do as he ages? Go for the metal model because it doesn’t look the same anyway so it doesn't MATTER if he ages? Get the skin updated to look more like whatever age he is now? Just… have a random 22-year-old-looking hand even though the rest of him is 50?

4. Regardless of whatever you go with for #3, either the entire hand or some of its parts must need replacing over time. Anyone who thinks people use the same prostheses for 30 years doesn’t know anyone who actually uses one (or hasn’t known them for very long, anyway), and even if you play the "advanced technology" card.. want to show me a 30-year-old car, airplane, or space shuttle that has NEVER HAD A PART REPLACED EVER? Can he do the maintenance himself (one-handed? Well, at least he has the Force?) or does a medical droid need to do it, etc?

5. What does the REST of the galaxy think about this? The only canon instances of ableism I can think of are Obi-Wan’s "more machine now than man" in ROTJ, and Dooku's not-so-nice thoughts about Anakin's arm in the ROTS novelization (although Palpatine obviously feels differently in the same scene), but… on the whole is there any stigma attached, or not? If so, is Luke more like "screw it," or is he somewhat self-conscious? What do Leia, Han, Chewie, Wedge... whoever else is in the fic, think? I mean, seriously... imagine a loved one losing a limb. You might not CARE (you shouldn't CARE, in the sense of loving them less or differently, and I don't think any of the above characters would either) but it would still be a thing to get used to?

6. Back to technical stuff, just how much of his arm IS mechanical anyway? Definitely seems to be more than he actually lost to Vader. (This Quora post is fascinating.) Again, usually not relevant since Luke never wears anything but long sleeves after ESB (which is a travesty; look at those ARMS on Dagobah), but… might be relevant if he’s naked in your fic? ;)

7. Related to #6, how obvious is the point where the synthskin meets his natural skin? This could probably be barely noticeable (theatrical makeup experience FTW?) but, might not be? Is this the reason he always wears long sleeves? XD I can't imagine synthskin can tan or grow hair or anything, right???

Okay, so assuming you've put the thought into your headcanon for the above (I… really hadn’t either until recently though, and my fics are all inconsistent so… no judgment either way), let me come back to this "minor thing that affects your life in small ways" thing.

I don’t really get the impression that, with Luke anyway, this particular fandom pays TOO MUCH attention to his prosthetic hand to the point where it feels like a fetish. I have read a COUPLE of fics that felt icky that way, but many more involving Anakin/Vader. If anything, it gets kind of over-ignored as a perfect replacement that is exactly like his biological hand in every way.

That's just not possible. It's not. And even if it WERE scientifically possible (in a very cyberpunk-ish world, no less) would anyone BOTHER to make a cybernetic hand with ugly veins, scraggly cuticles, and age spots?

So. Even if you don’t consider it a disability, it’s a THING. I don’t think my wearing contacts is a disability, but I still can't open my eyes underwater, and if I nap in the afternoon my eyes get dry and gunky, and if I drive somewhere and lose a contact I legally and literally CANNOT drive home (never happened but, anxiety FTW?), and don't forget that one time I lived through a major earthquake and all the supermarkets ran out of food because the roads were closed, you better bet I was worried about what would happen if I ran out of One Day Acuvue before the courier services opened back up (actually go to an eye doctor and get that awful glaucoma test? *shudder*). Similarly, someone who can walk normally on an artificial hip or knee isn’t disabled in the same sense that someone who uses a wheelchair is, but they still set off metal detectors and can’t sit comfortably in certain positions. It may or may not be a major thing, but it is a thing… and it does seem weird to me that a lot of writers seem to treat Luke’s hand as a perfect replacement when it CAN'T BE. For example:

1. It's metal in his body. I’ve translated enough medical documents to know that THAT IS A THING. Metal detectors, MRIs, whatever… there are times when metal vs. organic material is a thing.

2. He can't possibly have the same fingerprints, if he has any fingerprints at all. It MIGHT be possible for a planned amputation but… that hand was lost. Any biometric-type military clearance Luke has now has to be reset/redone. Finger vein identification etc. is probably a no-go period. (NEW THOUGHT: Unless the Alliance had his fingerprints on file... doesn't REALLY match up with the rest of the technology of the world, but... cool possibility?)

3. Maintenance. Especially considering if he’s going to live on a water planet with exposed mechanical parts with no one else to help him do maintenance if needed *side-eyes Rian Johnson*

4. Ongoing pain? This is a headcanon of mine anyway. From what I understand, phantom pain comes from the brain sending out signals to a limb that is no longer there, and getting no response. Since Luke’s hand DOES have feeling, I don’t think he’d have that kind of ongoing issue, BUT. I do think there’d be pain right after he got it (again, talk to anyone who’s had a joint replaced?) and I kind of imagine his hand aching whenever he was reminded of Vader or of losing it. Not a necessary thing to work in, I suppose, but that’s a headcanon I use a lot.

5. Identity as a disabled person? I have seen this addressed in some fics, and I agree that it might not have a place one way or the other in a story that has nothing to do with disability, but… I do sort of see Luke being especially compassionate to other veterans or victims of the war, and to people with disabilities in general, maybe especially because he now knows that’s something he shared with his father? I also like it when fics address the fact that not everyone in the galaxy has access to what I assume was the top-of-the-line model for the Alliance’s biggest hero, at that Luke might feel guilt about that, or at least a desire to help others?

6. Vanity/self-esteem? Luke doesn’t seem like a hugely vain person to me but… would he be at all self-conscious about meeting someone new and getting the awkward questions? Does he tell the truth, and if so how much of it? Or does everyone just already know? (That wouldn’t necessarily be LESS awkward though?) Like everything else, this probably depends on when the fic is set.

7. Is there anything he’s not supposed to do, like get wet (especially without the skin, oh dear sequel trilogy)???

I guess on the whole I see Luke as a not-vain person who probably wouldn’t care THAT much about appearances (except everyone does a little, right?), but I do think his hand would be a constant reminder of Vader, for better (after ROTJ) or worse (between ESB and ROTJ). I don’t think it would be as life-changing as losing a limb in the real world today, but I also don’t think he’d go months (or even a day really) without even thinking about it, with zero changes to anything whatsoever.

I think it’s really important that the technology in Star Wars is shown to be helping and healing people, rather than just blowing things up. I LOVE that people have taken that ideal version of a prosthetic limb and made strides toward actually creating it in real life. But I also think that just ignoring the fact that Luke IS a character with a disability (however rendered-minor it is by said technology) does a huge disservice to the character and to diversity in pop culture in general.

So… long story short, I’d love to see more fics that did address this, even if it’s casually and in passing. While there are certainly situations in which the best choice is "it doesn’t matter in this scene," if anything I see Star Wars fics going too far in the other direction… not really considering this as a part of the character and the world?