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addij69 · 2 years

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Wisps Of Fire [D.D]

Part One

Summary: She runs, constantly— It’s almost like a game at this point. Run because you have to, because you want to find something worth finding when you’re done. Then, She meets The Mandalorian, whose hunting someone. She isn’t very subtle. Kenobis never are.

Din Djarin x Kenobi!Reader [No Y/N]

Warnings: Violence, Running away from home, Mentions of weapons, blood, Allusions to death, Me being a lover of Obi and Din, The reader having red hair and that being her only predetermined characteristic and that’s just for me to have fun with I apologize. Slow Burn, Pining, ‘Enemies’ to Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 1.8K

A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head for a while! I think it could work, and I have some plans for it, but let me know if you like it!

She always knew she was different. Maybe it’s the orange wisps of hair against the greens and dark browns of the trees as she runs through the jungle on her way to the beach. Maybe it’s the way she catches things when she isn’t even paying attention. Maybe it’s the way her father and everyone in her village has this defining gray that is always straight, while her hair, those orange whisps, looks like it catches on fire when she watches the sunset. But most of all, it’s the dreams he has.

The dreams of a man, five foot ten in stature, graying hair and beige clothes. He smiles at her. His accent is funny. For years, from the time she’s old enough to always know where the keys to various rooms are without seeing them, he comes and sings her lullabies in her dreams. This man, the one with the funny accent, almost looks like her. And then, when she turns 19, they abruptly stop. He’s grayer and more tired then, but he still has his charm. Soon after the visits stop, she hears whispers in her fathers office of a planet destroying weapon, and how it was itself destroyed.

She imagines the man is a hero.

And she knows he’s her real dad.

They pretend that the man who raised her is her father. He’s nice, and he makes good pastries. But there’s someone else clouding her mom’s mind. Someone five foot ten in stature, graying hair and beige clothes.

And everyone knows it. They know that she’s not the true heir to the throne that he sits on, made of winding twigs, vines and lilies. She runs through the jungle anyways, hearing the whispers of whoever came before her. It’s been three years since he stopped visiting her dreams, and she misses him.

But she’s getting a handle for all these traditions that the villagers all love. Their island is the only one for miles, surrounded by water, the only way out is a monthly ferry that delivers them supplies, in the dead of night, so that no one is tempted to leave, And every month, She gets a little closer to running to the boat.

Yet she goes to the festival today, to celebrate one hundred years of their tiny community. The one that, time and time again, she is reminded she is not a part of. And she stands there as the man who is married to her mom, tells the story of his great, great, great, grandmother.

She was a hero. She came here to hide her family from the dangers of wars, of people who were hired to hunt them, and how they came here to build a community. And others came with her, and they built this home. She was someone the girl with the orange hair admired. She understood why all these people idolized her. It was the way she idolized the man who visited her in dreams. And it was at this festival that she heard about the fall of the empire last week. And then, that night? A man, her age, barely a man, more like a boy, tells her that his name is Luke. He has this sandy blonde hair, and a nice smile.

So she listens when they mention the empire. An ominous force in an otherwise quiet village. But there’s a relief in her father’s voice now. And she’s happy, because there's a new sense of calm within her house. And she waits to fall asleep each night, always feeling the increase in her heart rate when she hears a ship soar across the sky. But Luke visits more and more, and she doesn’t know how to respond when he tells her to wake up. That the boy who drives the boat is waiting for her, that she has to move quickly.

And so she wakes up that night, in a cold sweat, before changing into her day clothes, running once more through the jungle. All the way to the beach. The saltiness of the water reaches her nostrils before she sees the waves, but there it is. The little ferry, with its bright light in the cabin. She ran once more, greeting the sailor, who handed her a robe. It smells of whiskey and vanilla, and is big on her; But she recognizes it anywhere.

It’s his.

And she smiles, having something of her fathers after years of longing. But as she holds it up to wrap it around her torso, something falls out of it; A metal rod, with crevices and curves, red buttons on the side. It’s then that it occurs to her that her father was a Jedi; An army she thought weren’t even real. But Luke must be one too, that's why he was able to find her.

The sailer only looks back up to her after staring at the lightsaber hilt on the ground. He bends down, looking at this young girl, afraid and nauseous from anxiety. Her sunset colored hair curls her face, and the cloak of her father hugs her, protecting her.

But it makes him smile, and reminds him of an easier time. So he hands her the saber, and she takes it, wanting to thank him over and over again.

Thank you for picking it up.

Thank you for saving my life.

Thank you for letting me off of this island.

But she just nods to him, the thanks getting caught up in her throat.

“Kenobi.” He smiles, nodding back, and then to the ship, telling her to get on, or get away.

She keeps the hood hung over her face, shielding herself from the guilt of running away.

—------------

She decides quickly that she has two goals.

Find information about her father, people who knew him, find Luke, find something that can give her absolution.

And stay alive.

The first makes the second rather difficult. It’s how she finds herself running again. She really just wanted to go to the market and get something fresh to eat, but No, things had to be made difficult. But she moves quicker now, quieter. Instead of wisps of long red hair, it’s more likely to see the fleeting ends of a jedi knight’s robe. In fact, her hair is messily cut, an impulse decision she made while homesick one night.

It's one more reason to keep her hood on, really. But escaping these troopers doesn’t seem nearly as viable as usual. She’s struggling, and it’s evident. The swings of her lightsaber that she keeps lit only when necessary are sloppy; There’s no one to train her except run-ins with death. She’s better at it than she was five years ago, but she can’t help but feel as if Obi-Wan, she learned his name and she loves whispering to him in the dead of night like she is nine years old again, is not nearly as proud of her as she wishes he was.

She misses him terribly.

And then she’s shot in the arm and she is reminded of what’s going on. She curses the stars and promises to apologize to them later, and fully focuses on running. She runs so fast that jumping becomes instinctive– And terrifying. She’s jumping over ten foot piles of rubble, ones that only the foot soldiers can follow her through. Another shot, one to the shin this time, causes her to tumble over, eating dirt as she feels the burns.

Storm troopers leam over the panting runaway, and one slaps her face with the but of his gun,causing her to grown, and upon seeing this, the soldiers begin kicking her torso, her legs, her arms, and she’s thankful they’re all too caught up in their own pride to reach for the saber, but not too thankful–

Her nose is bleeding, probably broken, and she has other cuts causing blood to run down her chin. She cannot feel anything but pain. And then, the troopers stop, glancing to her right, before everyone of them is shot, and falls, before they can even respond.

And that’s when she starts to lose consciousness. Her vision is blurry and it’s hard to keep her eyes open. The last thing she sees as she passes out, is a man covered head to toe in Baskar armor; A Mandolarian. And a tiny, green goblin. That part confuses her. They both lean over her, and in her blurry vision, she sees a blue version of her father, who is not staring at his daughter, but the tiny green goblin, amazed by him.

Thanks for the concern, Dad.

—-------

When she wakes up, everything hurts and she cannot move her hands.

Then she worries about her lightsaber, and her cloak, and she isn’t quite thinking straight, so she calls for the only person she knows might answer.

“Obi-Wan?” Her voice is hoarse, and it’s only then does she realize the reason she can’t move her hands is because they’re handcuffed to a pole, and she’s in some sort of basement. A ship basement. Something is covering her left eye– It’s throbbing. The hum of the ship is keeping her awake. Obi-Wan does not respond.

But the Mandalorian climbs down the ladder, his armor clanking, causing her head to feel like it’s bursting out of her skull.

“Stop being so loud.” She snapped. “Where am I? Where are we going? Where’s my stuff?” She has many questions, and he just stares at her for a moment. He’s carrying her robe, wrapped carefully around her lightsaber and lays it next to her. His movements are calculated, and not at all impulsive.

She’s sure he’s not used to someone being able to detect his stare; Mandalorian armor is designed that way, to keep any random prisoner in the dark; but she is no random prisoner. She is the daughter of a jedi knight, and a queen of a small island village. And his eyes burn into her skin like lasers.

She looks at him. All she receives is another few minutes of silence, before he answers her. “You’re a bounty, I’ve been chasing you for a while.” There’s any number of people trying to find her. But she shushes him, listening to her thoughts.

“There’s someone else on this ship. Someone special.” She says, using that strange thing they call the force to detect a young soul– young for his species.

He closes the hatch to the ladder, and his eyes narrow into a glare. It burns more than before. “You’re a bounty.” He repeats. “Your mother sent me.” This peaks her interests, and she furrowed her eyebrows, leaning her head back against the wall.

“Figures. She never wanted me to leave.”

“Your mother sent me.” Again with his repetition. “So let me make this very simple for you. You’re going back home whether you want to or not, Princess.” She meets his eyes – what She assumes are his eyes, before he speaks again.

“And I can bring you in warm, or I could bring you in cold.”

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addij69 · 2 years

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Just saw the videos of Mando in Disneyland’s Batuu and my yearning for that man has returned tenfold. 😫😫😫

I know for a fact that if I was there and he was in front of me I would be blushing and gagging and vomiting and puking the whole fucking time, I-I can’t.

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addij69 · 2 years

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My Jedi Prince

Another Obi-Wan Fic!! When Obi-Wan is assigned with finding the bounty hunter he is also requested to ensure the safety of a princess named Y/n L/n. The jedi master lives by a code but he can't help but feel attracted towards the girl. Will the pair be able to keep their relationship professional?

1 - His Assignments

2 -

3 -

????

Comments really appreciated ❤️

Tag list - just ask to be added

@oldmanwithashield @hatter-and-hare

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addij69 · 2 years

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(gif not mine)

Sweet Tooth - Gabriel x Reader

|| part 4 || the archangel p2 ||

word count: 948

warnings: typical supernatural violence, language

summary: hunting with the Winchester lead you to experience a lot of things, but you never thought you'd meet a sweet tooth Trickster.. or should i say archangel.

5 - The Archangel (part 1 cause its to long again)

A man lies on the ground with a gruesome stomach wound. Crime-scene markers surround him and cameras flash. You, Sam, and Dean are standing outside the crime-scene tape, watching various extras do their job.

"What do I think? I think go screw yourself, that's what I think," Dean glared.

"Uh, could you give us a sec, please? Thanks," Sam smiled, the officer doing what he was told. "You need to calm down."

"Calm down? I am wearing sunglasses at night," Dean yanked his off. "You know who does that? No-talent douchebags. I hate this game. I hate that we're in a procedural cop show and you wanna know why? Because I hate procedural cop shows. There's like three hundred of them on television and they're all the freaking same. It's ooh, plane crashed here—oh shut up."

"Hey," Sam interrupted, pointing to an officer who was sucking on a lollipop. "Check out sweet tooth over there."

"You think that's him? The Trickster?" you asked, suddenly getting a thought in your head.

"Just, um, follow my lead," Sam whispered, taking the lead over to where he was.

you followed Sams lead but your mind wander off trying to come up with possible explanation why a Trickster wanted the Winchesters to play there roles for Michael and Lucifer.

Why would the Trickster be interested in Michael and Lucifer? What business does he have that he can create a TV land to live in forever while the world burns out there? Why does he care so much about something that he has no business caring about?”

Unless he isn't the Trickster at all, but something more powerful just like Castiel was trying to say.

Your mind wander longer until Dean snapped you out of it, "You good?" Dean muttered.

Your focus was brought back to what was happening and you nodded silently.

"Good one, guys," the lollipop-sucking officer laughed at something Sam said.

He got up to leave when Sam came behind him and stabbed him in the heart with a bloodied stake. The officer struggled to breathe and collapsed on the ground.

None of the other extras were paying attention except for one, and he morphed into the so called ‘Trickster’

"You've got the wrong guy, idiots!"

"Did we?" Dean asked with a smirk.

Sam came up behind him giving him the same treatment as the other officer.

Your heart sunk for a moment as you watched the Trickster get stabbed, an odd feeling rising in your chest.

You watched the man sink to the ground like a lump, the illusion around you all seeming to fade, as the three of you were back in the warehouse area staring at the body of the Trickster.

"Come on, let's get out of this town," Dean declared heading out the door of the warehouse.

You followed the boys out of the warehouse and into the car.

—

When the morning came, you exited your motel room to enter the boys room and you noticed Sam was nowhere to be found which was odd, but you didn't say anything until Dean started to notice. When he was finished brushing his teeth, he spit out the rest of what was in his mouth.

"I'm worried, man. What that son of bitch did to Cas. You know, where is he?"

"Sam isn't in here," you called out from your spot at the motels small table.

"Where the hell is he?"

"I don't know. I came in here and he wasn't here. His bed wasn't even slept in," you pointed out.

Dean put on his jacket before pulling out his cell phone. He grabbed his keys, and you both walked to the car as Dean called his brother.

"Sam. It's me. Where the hell did you go?" Dean left a message just as you two got in the car.

"Dean? Y/N?" Sam said, his voice a bit strange.

"Where the hell are you?" you asked since he clearly wasn't in the car.

"I don't know," he said.

Noticing the flashing red light on the dashboard, it lit up in time with Sam's words.

"Shit," Dean sighed.

"Oh shit. I don't think we killed the Trickster."

"Is it too early for an 'I told you so'?" you asked.

"Save it," Dean sighed.

Dean put the car in drive and peeled out of the parking lot and down the road.

"Okay, stake didn't work. So, what, this is another trick?" You asked.

"I don't think it's a Trickster," Dean announced.

"What do you mean?" You asked again.

"You heard Cas. He said this thing was too powerful to be a trickster. And did you notice the way he looked at Cas? Almost like he knew him. Also how pissed he got when you brought up Michael and Lucifer." Dean went on

"He's also so obsessed with us saying yes, it's getting suspicious. Did you know that there are currently and only has been four archangels? Michael, Lucifer, Raphael, and—"

"Gabriel," you finished for Dean.

"Yeah. We know who Michael and Lucifer are. Sam and I met Raphael when Castiel needed him. That leaves Gabriel left. This isn't a Trickster. He's an angel, and he's hiding. And I know just how to get him to admit it," Dean grinned, looking at you.

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addij69 · 2 years

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Gardener Figment

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addij69 · 2 years

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My Horribly Written Essay On Figment and Disney

(this is my first post so please cut me some slack, I am also not a writer :P )

I remember Fifth Grade for a plethora of reasons. My Grandpa’s passing, the year I watched one of my classmates descend into becoming the weird fetish kid, and the year my favorite Pokemon card was stolen and returned, but to me, the most impacting part of who I am now was my trip to Disney World. Now for all my life, I was a Disney kid, I had all the movies, all the toys, and even the Barbie Disney Rapunzel Castle that you could put water on the walls to make her paintings appear. And now looking back at my life as an 18-year-old college student, I think Disney did the one thing I couldn’t do for myself as a kid, create a focus. Since childhood, I’ve always wanted to be a princess, live in a castle, and meet my prince but I never could due to the housing market and Democracy of course. Now I’ve had ADHD forever, and to anyone who knows me, this isn’t a surprise. I’ve always been the kid in the class who can’t stop talking or moving or drawing pictures in the margins of my work and all over my work and generally not doing my work. And when I was home; I was the same. Never had a clean room, constantly playing and making stories with my Barbies and Monster High Dolls. And it was an escape, I didn’t have a solid group of friends in Fifth Grade, It was a time when who liked me and could tolerate me would jump around from kid to kid till I had no true idea who was really a friend. I still don’t know how to separate a friend from an acquaintance. But one day it changed.

I had gotten home from school like usual, and there was a white box on the counter. I didn’t notice the excited looks peaking from my parents most likely exhausted faces(they had two kids who wouldn’t be tired) as my mother alerted us that they had a surprise. I will attempt to describe the following as dramatically and flourished as I can, she lifted the sagging white box off the counter carefully holding the bottom. As she lifted the flap, words started to appear seemingly alerting we were going somewhere. Disney World. How I couldn’t contain my excitement I remember crying in joy, though my memory of back then is mostly a blur due to getting older and just general brain fogginess. During April break, peak tourism time which proved to be a good idea at the time later proved to be a not-so-great time, we were off. Now we stayed in a rental home about 30 to 40 minutes away from the park, I had a tv in my room and would only watch Disney Channel cause why wouldn’t I, it was Disney Radio season. I remember a few details of the home, a pool, a little lizard that seemed to follow me from window to window from outside the home, and a nearby Walmart with so much Disney stuff I as an adult would have wept from how empty my wallets would have been upon leaving. On the second day, my life would change.

Epcot, which is home to attractions like Drinking Around the World and Test Track is by far my favorite Disney park to this day. In one whole day, I got to travel around the world, go to space, and see him. Now looking at the large sort of wacky-shaped building from the outside you wouldn’t expect to find such a large assortment of wonders inside. Journey into the Imagination is possibly the one thing I’d want to relive other than seeing Phantom of the Opera a year prior(which I wore the same shirt to by the way), the ride takes you on a tour of the senses before Figment interrupts. At the time I didn’t think anything of Figment, he was some old dragon that had a funny voice and at the time that's all he was. But looking back at my young self I see a lot of me in Figment. I was a creative outcast who wanted to find my way in life and help but usually was yelled at or ignored. And Figment goes through a similar journey on his attraction. And I think that's what's drawn me to him all these years, once I hit Highschool I had a hard time finding myself and fitting in. Luckily I had good friends at that point but I didn’t feel complete. I remember the day, it was early December of my freshman year. I was watching Disney Ride POV’s to pass the time when I stumbled onto the recording of Figment, and I was obsessed. I spent hours of time over the next year coming back to the videos, even during the height of Covid I was still finding comfort in a memory. I received my first stuffed Figment from my friend on my 17th Birthday, at the time it was the only merchandise of him they sold out of parks and I cried upon receiving him. Then for my 18th Birthday, I spoiled myself with custom horns to match him, a huge 2ft stuffed Figment and custom earrings. And the same dear friend had gone to Disney that year and came over while I was bleaching my hair and delivered such a special gift. A Figment that magnetically could sit on your shoulder from the parks. I almost lost my mind but kept composed to not seem like a psychopath.

I might be crazy, but I know I sure sound it. But I hold this little Purple Dragon so close in my heart. Disney in particular has always been my comfort anything, and I don’t think it ever won’t be. As time goes on more and more stuff is thrown at me like how a toddler throws a birthday cake and I am so happy. I am so emotionally invested in the company I get excited for the panels at D23, and when news is dropped about company workings. It's special for me, and so is Figment.

#figment #disney #writing #essay #core memory

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