#swcw fic

[moriaarts]

The Adventures of Trooper Wooley and Knitting!

Who is bby? He is bby and must be protected at all costs. Also i hc that his full birth number literally just says wooley

Edit: Here is part 2 for the Boil gurlies And also the fic that inspired this work

[iconicanemone]

In the midst of the Clone Wars, Hammer and Clip crashed onto a planet within wild space. They’ll make it back to their battalion, but what are they going to do with this child they’ve been given?

Alternate work title: Hammer and Clip obtain a child

Yeah, new fic! And hey! It’s 100% written! (Need to finish editing it though)

[ranger-jedi-knight]

Fic Art Dump 6

Ok, so here's two new characters that will be popping up(or have popped up). An outfit update for one character, and an outfit. There's also a dagger that is the inspiration for a vibro knife that will be appearing the next chap of 'Found A New Padawan'.

Chase:

Naak:

Iri's New Knight Look:

Ikoe's Alternate/Undercover look:

Vibro knife design:

IDK where this is from, I saw it on Tumblr ages ago and saved the image cuz I loved the look. And now it gets to reappear!

past art dump with links to other ones:

https://ranger-jedi-knight.tumblr.com/post/703680281667895296/fic-art-dump-5?is_related_post=1

[pinetreesandtea]

Y’all, is there any sw fics where Mace Windu isn’t written as jerk or them bashing Mace Windu?? 🗿🗿🗿🗿

[friendlyfaded]

I don’t think anyone’s realized what the acronym of my Milo/Lasko/Sweetheart fic series is the same as, and it makes me sad /lh

[dontgetsnippy]

In light of me being sporadic with updates with this fic, I will now be posting updates on my longass Star Wars Alternate Canon fic, Secrets of the Sith, on this blog. I’ll be posting under the tag #Secrets of the Sith AU regarding progress on the fic and when a new chapter might be up. Feel free to send me asks or chat with me about this, it’s always fun to talk about!

At this moment, Chapter 16 should be up (at about 100k+ words). Not sure when the next chapter will be, but it is mostly already written, just not edited and not in a state I’m happy with yet. Chapter 17 will be the end of Act II and after that it’s the exciting Act III.

For those who haven’t seen this fic yet, it’s an alternate canon to Revenge of the Sith, centering around Ahsoka and Anakin, but a ton of helping of Rex and Obi-wan as well. Written by me and edited by my cousin, SupremelySalt (thanks bro). 

Big thanks to everyone who has stuck around for the story so far and thanks for the patience between updates!

[codywan-ao3-library]

Love heals all wounds (so they say)

By: K_R_Closson

Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Jedi Apprentice Series - Jude Watson & Dave Wolverton, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types

Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Rated: Teen And Up Audiences

Other Tags:

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Fix-It

Obi-Wan is a healer and this changes his path

Planet Melida | Daan (Star Wars)

Planet Mandalore (Star Wars)

Battle of Naboo (Star Wars)

Planet Tatooine (Star Wars)

Qui-Gon Jinn Lives

Obi-Wan and Anakin have a healthier relationship than in canon

Obi-Wan does not take Anakin as his padawan

Medic Obi-Wan

References to Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008)

Canon-Typical Violence

Order 66 Didn't Happen (Star Wars)

Word Count: 36712 words

Language: English

Chapters: 13/13

Completion Status: Complete

Summary:

Vokara speaks before he can. “I didn’t come here for your permission. I don’t need it. I am a Master Healer, and it is my right to take an apprentice.”

“And you want Obi-Wan Kenobi?” Mace Windu asks.

“Yes,” Vokara answers.

Or, Obi-Wan is wanted, becomes a healer, and this changes everything.

Link to fic: AO3

[ccinagalaxyfaraway]

The continuation of don’t ask me if it was worth it.

Yes, I know it’s been two years.

[boonki]

written for @find-me-with-orion as part of the prompt: selcouth - unfamiliar, rare, strange, and yet wonderful

this wasn’t as long as i initially thought it would be 😅but still super soft. i have this headcanon that anakin builds obi-wan cute little droids all the time the same way other couples would leave each other cute sticky notes and then this prompt took that thought and ran away with it

enjoy!! thanks for the ask my dear ❤️❤️❤️i hope you’re having a lovely day

__________

Anakin can count on one hand all the times he’s witnessed Obi-wan voluntarily work on a droid. And yet, however unlikely, the scene before him in the dim evening light of their quarters is undeniable:

Obi-wan is hunched over their kitchen table, a grease stain swiped across his forehead as he fiddles with screwing a wheel back onto a mostly dismembered droid. His eyebrows are furrowed together in violent frustration, an expression he usually saves for only the most aggravating enemies, and when the wheel pops off and its bolt bounces off the tabletop and onto the floor,  something that sounds eerily like a curse huffs out of Obi-wan. Anakin’s heart clenches; it’s so pathetic and endearing all at once.  

Anakin gives a gentle push to the door behind him, letting the noise of the latch clicking into place act as a hello. Obi-wan’s head jerks up.

“You weren’t supposed to be home yet.” Obi-wan greets him, an oddly nervous—and guilty—glint in his eye.

Anakin lifts an eyebrow, lips quirked down in an amused smile as he sheds his outer robe and mindlessly throws it on the counter. “Hello to you, too.” He takes a few steps towards the table, standing next to Obi-wan, and looks down at the mess. “What are you doing?”

Obi-wan glances down at the contained junkyard and back up at him. “I’ve picked up your habits, it seems. I’m building something.” Obi-wan lies through his teeth and Anakin spots it a million miles away.

“Wait, is that—“ Anakin leans in, recognition sparking his movement, “—is that M6?”

Obi-wan stiffens.

“It is M6!”

About a year prior, on the evening of their first anniversary, Anakin had gifted Obi-wan an MSE-6 droid—a mouse droid—that was repurposed to trail after Obi-wan and tell him I love you in Anakin’s voice every few minutes. The initial intention had been a joke, something to make Obi-wan laugh, but as the days, and then months passed, Obi-wan grew oddly protective of it, swatting Anakin’s hands away whenever he offered to junk it.

A small sigh escapes Obi-wan, defeat evident in the slump of his shoulders. “I tripped over him earlier, and sent the poor thing straight into the wall. I think he’s broken.” He casts a downtrodden gaze at the scattered parts, looking like a kicked loth cat. His tone is sheepish, apologetic, and it takes everything in Anakin not to burst into laughter immediately.

“Why didn’t you wait until I got home?” Anakin asks, gently running a hand over the back of Obi-wan’s head, smoothing down his hair.

Obi-wan looks up at him with big, worried eyes. “I didn’t want you to be upset.”

Anakin can’t hold back his laughter then; it bubbles up out of him involuntarily. The whole situation is so endearing, and Anakin is so endlessly fond. It’s rare to see this side of Obi-wan, who tenderly cares for a droid just because it was a gift, the gesture reeking of attachment, and who visibly frets over the state of Anakin’s heart. Given the situation, Anakin would’ve expected Obi-wan to blame the will of the force and throw it into the trash chute without second thought. This—this uncharacteristic display of love—is strange and wonderful, an unanticipated treasure.

Anakin had always guessed the droid meant more to him than he let on, and this only confirmed it.

He leans down and delicately cups Obi-wan’s face, smudging the the grease stain further across his forehead in an attempt to clean him off, and kisses him, trying not to let his enamored smile ruin their embrace. Obi-wan tugs back at first, but softens, worrying Anakin’s bottom lip between his teeth.

Anakin gingerly shifts back, holding his face inches from Obi-wan’s. “I’ll fix him for you, okay?”—knowing Obi-wan’s history with droids, he can’t help but tease him a little—“I think you’re more likely to kill him right now.” 

Slipping out of Anakin’s hold, Obi-wan stares down at the jumble of parts, pouting. “You better. I’ve grown quite fond of the little thing.”

“Who’d have thought the great Obi-wan Kenobi would ever like a droid?” Anakin chuckles, and presses one more kiss onto his forehead, right on the grease stain.

Obi-wan holds up the stray wheel. “Get on with it, then.”

[cruisercrusher]

So uh. Hahaha 🤡 here you go!

[mr-gallows]

The Errant Knight, Chapter 3 is posted!

[katierosefun]

Oh MAN Caroline the whump prompts,,,,maybe either ✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention +: being led back to bed with patient whispers For obi wan and Anakin?

both?? both!!!! thank you for the prompt, kasey!! 

send me a whump prompt

Anakin woke up to hearing a dull crash in the kitchen.

For a second, Anakin could only roll over on his side and try to block out the sound with a pillow. But then instead of a pillow, Anakin’s hand hit something hard and sharp, and that was when Anakin remembered that he wasn’t actually in bed.

Anakin snapped open his eyes. Couch. He was on the couch—and he had hit his hand on the edge of the table, of all things, and—

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin said, sitting up. “’s that—” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence. He pushed himself off the couch and made his way into the kitchen, where, sure enough, he found Obi-Wan carefully picking up the shards of what could have only been a mug.

Obi-Wan looked up. His hair and clothes were oddly rumpled, and his eyes weren’t quite focused, but all the same, he smiled. “Good morning, Anakin,” he said almost happily. He blinked a few times and then, staring up at Anakin, he said, “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“It’s…” Anakin glanced at the chronometer. Inching a little past three. Technically morning, but not—

“It’s fine,” Anakin said, looking back down at Obi-Wan. And then looked down at the broken shards of the mug, and the puddle of what he guessed was probably (knowing Obi-Wan, most definitely) tea. Reaching for a towel, Anakin said, “I can take care of this—you, go back to sleep.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m perfectly awake.” He looked up at Anakin expectantly, and for an instant, he looked so genuine that Anakin would have started laughing if he wasn’t more concerned about Obi-Wan’s fever.

Anakin crouched down next to Obi-Wan and, one hand toweling up the mess of tea and mug shards, he reached for Obi-Wan’s forehead.

“Oh, hello,” Obi-Wan hummed.

“Hello,” Anakin replied, ignoring the little jump in his chest at the blistering heat against his hand. “Okay. Obi-Wan? Why don’t you…sit down somewhere?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “I’m already sitting.”

“Right—you are—but—” Anakin dropped the towel and stood up, tugging Obi-Wan along with him. He rocked back a half-step to catch Obi-Wan’s swaying form. “Right—why don’t you sit down on the couch? And then I’ll…get you your tea.”

Walking around the mess on the ground, Anakin led Obi-Wan over to the couch. He sat Obi-Wan down, and Obi-Wan, to his relief, didn’t argue. He leaned back a little, blinking up at Anakin with the same mild confusion that he had worn just a few minutes ago. “Anakin?”

“That’s right,” Anakin said. His hand was still warm from where he had pressed it against Obi-Wan’s forehead. “It’s me.”

“Wanted tea…”

“I know,” Anakin said. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Obi-Wan nodded, his eyes closing briefly.

Anakin let out a breath. And then he walked back into the kitchen, cleaned up the mess the best he could. He couldn’t see any more pieces of the mug, at least, and he figured that was good enough. He tossed the towel onto the counter and threw the broken mug into the trash receptacle. He got out a new mug, looked around for a tea bag.

Anakin was wondering which tea would probably be best to get Obi-Wan back to sleep when he heard sudden footsteps, then the rustle of cloth—

“Obi-Wan—” Anakin dropped the tea bags he was holding and rushed to the door before Obi-Wan could. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Late,” Obi-Wan said. “I think I’m late for—”

“You’re not late for anything,” Anakin said wearily. He tugged off Obi-Wan’s cloak, ignoring his former master’s little cry of protest. “Okay? I promise.” I look away for one second, and this is what happens…

Anakin hung the cloak and looked at Obi-Wan. “Now come on—let’s get you back.” He took Obi-Wan’s arm, and letting Obi-Wan sink into him, walked not back to the couch, but instead into the bedroom. If Obi-Wan was about to go any other fever-adventures, then Anakin at least had more time and more room to catch him.

“Here we go,” Anakin said. He pulled back the covers, nudged Obi-Wan into bed.

“’kin—” Obi-Wan craned his neck to look back at Anakin. “Think I’m…ill.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” Anakin said. He sat down next to Obi-Wan, and even though he already knew that Obi-Wan had a fever, he set his hand on his former master’s forehead again anyways. This time, Obi-Wan didn’t seem as confused. Now that he seemed to understand that he was, in fact, ill, whatever strength he had left seemed to seep away. Anakin felt Obi-Wan sag a little against his hand.

“There you are,” Anakin said, managing a small smile.

Obi-Wan mumbled something unintelligible.

Anakin figured that meant that Obi-Wan didn’t really need the tea to go back to sleep. Anakin would make some later, but right now…

“Come on,” Anakin said quietly, lowering his head. “Sleep?”

Obi-Wan nodded a little.

“Okay,” Anakin said. He stood as Obi-Wan lay down.

For a moment, Obi-Wan didn’t close his eyes. He was still looking around the room, not quite as confused as before, but still…distant. Not quite there.

And then, weakly: “Anakin?”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.”

Some shuffling, and then: “Good.”

Anakin wasn’t really sure what to make of that.

When he looked again, Obi-Wan had fallen asleep.

[ofyoursilentreverie]

“Good luck”

Master Kenobi always said there’s no such thing as luck; “If you’re in control, luck has no effect.” Bantha dwang. Luck came at you no matter how much control you thought you had. How else could you explain the lack of buzz droids on her ship but the excess on Anakin’s? How could you explain Anakin having a droid who’d saved their lives more times than she could count? How else could you explain her crash landing into Trace’s? How else could you explain her finding them again? Luck followed her always. Luck had filled her life, luck had given her Master Kenobi, luck had given her Anakin. But luck hadn’t kept them together. And luck hadn’t saved them.

“We’ll have to catch up another time”

Always another time. Always pushing things off. A habit she’d learned from her master. They’d both always been the disappointment of Obi-Wan, on the subject of reports anyways. It hadn’t been uncommon for Obi-Wan to find them both in the sparring room, discarded holo-pads on the floor and enough sweat in the room to suggest they’d been there a while. He’d sigh, shake off his robe, and join in until they all collapsed on the floor. She’d always rolled onto her back, tips of her montrals brushing hair. In and out. In and out. They’d just breathe.

“I have to sort this out on my own, without the Council… and without you.”

She’d turned her back on him. Left him alone. Hadn’t told him she knew about Padme, hadn’t told him she loved him, hadn’t told him the million little things she’d always thought she would have time to say. But she’d thought she’d have another time. She hadn’t thought it’d be the same. She knew she could never really go back. Not to the same pair they’d been. Not to the past that’d made her. Not to the family she’d gained. Not to the friends she’d lost. The hurt in his eyes proved that. The experience in hers ensured it.

“When I was out there, alone, all I had were your training”

Hadn’t that been the truth. ‘Skywalker Academy.’ If only Trace had known that was the closest to the truth Ahsoka could have let her get. He’d been the one who led her from a youngling to the not Jedi she was now. Sure, she’d done a lot on her own, but he started her on the path and he kept her on it. Even after she left. He and Master Kenobi had kept her alive out there. Their teachings, the knowledge that they were out there, the memories she could never forget. They followed her everywhere.

“He always says, ‘Your lightsaber is your life’ ”

And yet you always lose yours, she’d wanted to say. She knew now. Losing hers had taught her that. But he’d kept them. He’d saved them. He’d turned them blue, but that was forgivable. He’d saved the last part of her old life, and he’d given it back. She could feel them in her hands now. He was nowhere to be found.

“I know he’s alive! I can sense it!”

That’d been the first real time she’d see the full extent of her master’s rule-twisting tendencies. Ever since then, she’d always expected him to find a loophole in the rulebook of everything. The Council. Piloting. Fighting. Life. Death.

“Have a little faith”

She’d never been good at that.

Ahsoka let her life fall from her hands.

[findafight]

I’m not really a fan of Korkie Kenobi headcanons for a few reasons but the one that sits funny with me the most glaringly is that he’s mandalorian. the society that holds children in high regard and protecting/raising them is an important aspect to their culture so much so that their adoption vow is on the same level of gravitas as a marriage vow?? Maybe satine has more than one sibling, or he may be an extended family member (bio or adoptive) that calls her aunt bc I imagine due to the adoption happy nature of Mando’ade family structures might be a bit confusing so calling older relatives aunt/uncle/pibling/etc is easier than trying to translate exactly your relationship to them actually is. (my family does this!)

Idk I just feel uncomfortable with the whole “oh he has red hair and his age doesn’t make sense for Bo-Katan to be his mom so he MUST be a love-child” stance that disregards the culture surrounding him

[ranger-jedi-knight]

So, this is Ikoe Kryze after she fell to the dark side at 16-17 years old. I was originally going to wait to post this till she fell in ‘Found A New Padawan’, but I’m writin a crossover fic that happens after her fall so I’m posting it now so that way I can link the image for people to view what she looks like currently along with her lightsabers.

[kyber-ghost]

at night, we meet, like lovers

Modern and vampire AU with Wolffe and other clones being vampires. This legit started as an insane crack idea but has grown into a legit fic. Don’t know how we got here but let’s see what happens. This will probably be the first chapter.

Tagging @ccinagalaxyfaraway. Thanks for putting with my insane idea in the beginning and giving me all the filler headcanons for this thing. Check out their blog for more plo/wolffe fics.

Heads up, there’s blood drinking and a kind of graphic description of that in here. 

Wolffe doesn’t like to hunt with his brothers. Lone wolf, they tease, but they know it’s how he likes to do it. The only reason more than one of them would go out for a hunt is as a precaution. Wolffe remembers when there were rumors of a hunter around Coruscant. They had to use their emergency stash of blood, and when they did go out to hunt, they went out in pairs. That had been a rough time.

Wolffe prowls around the dark alleys of Coruscant, eventually picking a spot next a couple of dumpsters that sit behind to a restaurant. In order to look less conspicuous, he takes out a cigarette but doesn’t light it. He doesn’t have a lighter anyway; it’s just a ruse. He sees a couple pass by and hears loud whoops in the distance. Probably drunk college students. Wolffe takes a look at his watch and sighs. Just past midnight. If it doesn’t die down, Wolffe might be waiting longer than he wants. He moves off the wall and starts heading farther down the street, closer to the edge of the city, where the less than savory characters tend to live. Perhaps he’ll get lucky with some thief or criminal.

Taking the bus would have been faster, but after his meal, Wolffe will have no trouble running back home. The lights of downtown soon fade, and the street is littered with more trash and potholes than should be legal. Cigarette still in hand, Wolffe is about to turn down a corner when it hits him. 

A smell, wildly unfamiliar but so tantalizing. It’s sickening sweet, like liquid sugar, but with the hint of blood lying underneath. Wolffe feels his fangs slip out unwillingly, and he clenches his jaw tightly in order to make them retract as he searches for the source. It grows stronger from a dark alley, only lit at the opening where it meets the sidewalk. There, even in the dark, Wolffe can see a figure walking towards the light.

Wolffe tries not to run towards the figure. He knows that the person cannot make out Wolffe’s features; he is too far for anyone other than his kind to see. Wolffe, however, can make out the odd shape of the person’s head and the tusks that protrude from the person’s face. Kel Dor. Probably male, judging from the lack of curves. Now that’s not something you see everyday in the outskirts of Coruscant. 

Wolffe waits until he is closer to the man to call out to him. The smell is overpowering now, so much that Wolffe can already taste it. His mouth salivates as the man walks closer. “Hey,” he says, voice a touch softer around the edges in order to not seem intimidating. “you got a light?” 

He realizes, too late, how stupid of a question this is, even before the man laughs. Well, now he knows it’s definitely a guy. “No,” the Kel Dor says, in a smooth voice that is slightly muffled with the mask. “I’m afraid not. Apologies.” 

“It’s alright,” Wolffe says, still moving closer to the man, though he notices that the Kel Dor has not taken a step since Wolffe asked him if he had a light. “Probably should stop anyway, since it’ll kill me or all that.” 

“Perhaps, but I hardly think it’s my place to tell you that,” the man says. Wolffe eyes him up and down. He looks too put together to be a junkie or someone unsavory. He’s wearing fitted dress pants with a sweater underneath his loose leather jacket. It doesn’t look genuine, but definitely not something just anyone could buy.

“No,” Wolffe says, as he feels his fangs slip out again, “it’s really not.” The man takes a step back, and Wolffe lunges, grabbing the front of the man’s jacket and slamming him into the wall. He hears the man groan in pain, and all Wolffe can think of is the smell, the sickening smell that Wolffe wants to bathe in. 

The man is taller than Wolffe by a couple inches, but he has nothing against Wolffe’s strength. Kel Dor have claws, and this one is trying to slash Wolffe’s face with them. But Wolffe spins the man around and shoves him face first. He hears the mask impact and worries that he’s broken it. Drinking a corpse’s blood isn’t the same as drinking it fresh. But as far as he can tell, the Kel Dor isn’t suffocating, just trying to push Wolffe off of him. Wolffe pins the man’s arms behind him with one of his hands and inhales the scent of him deeply.

“God,” Wolffe murmurs, as a shudder wracks his entire body. Up close, it’s even worse, or better? Worse, because it’s all Wolffe can sense now, in his nostrils and in his mouth. It’s like sinking into a warm bath, the water filled with sweet scented oils and whatever those things that Bly likes to use. Better, because it’s the most delicious thing Wolffe has ever experienced. “What is with you?” he asks.

The only answer is a grunt and a valiant effort to shove Wolffe off. He’s strong, for a non-vampire. “Yeah, that’s not going to get you anywhere,” Wolffe says. He reaches up to pull the man’s head back to drag his fangs against the rough skin. The Kel Dor stops struggling, and he takes in a breath, as if he means to say something. But before that can happen, Wolffe rears his head back and bites down into the curve of the Kel Dor’s neck.

It’s tough, at first, and Wolffe has to bite down harder than he normally has to. He feels the man’s body stiffen, then relax, as Wolffe’s fangs break through the skin. The first pulse of blood enters his mouth, and Wolffe lets out a deep groan. The taste is better, so much better than the smell. It is sweet and rich all at the same time, and the warmth of it fills Wolffe’s entire body. He closes his eyes and relishes the taste, almost letting the man pull him down with him as his knees buckle under the loss of blood. Wolffe lowers the Kel Dor down gently, still drinking from his neck. He takes a moment to stop drinking, gazing at the sight of the Kel Dor’s cut up throat. The man lies almost motionless on the ground, no sound coming from the mask. Wolffe bends down just to make sure he’s breathing.

A flash of metal glints in his face before Wolffe is leaping back, right side of his face burning and vision totally gone from from that eye. He lifts a hand and presses it into the pain, and it comes back warm and wet. Wolffe looks back at the Kel Dor, who, surprisingly, is already sitting up against the wall. Most of the people Wolffe drinks from are barely able to move, let alone attack him. 

Wolffe bares his fangs at the man in a snarl and slams him against the wall, knocking him out cold before he begins his trek back home in the heart of Coruscant.