randomaliha

[randomaliha]

I wish I knew the exact time and date that harry told snape ‘there’s no need to call me sir professor’ so that I could take a moment of silence to remember the moment each year

[randomaliha]

ficbit

So I’m going to try kick starting myself to finish this fic by posting bits of it now and then. I’ve had it sitting around half finished for so long, partly because I was trying to do Plot, and I am not so good at Plot, but I realised I was overthinking it and just needed to simplify. So... we’ll see :p

Star Wars, AU for the last part of RotS (after Mustafar), Q/O eventually.

Padmé went into labour in a barren part of space, a long way from Naboo.

Obi-Wan had sat motionless in the cockpit, mentally shutting out Captain Typho's anxious questioning — where do we go; we need somewhere safe — and remembered words he had heard a long time past: feel, don't think.

Feeling was dangerous too, at this moment, but he had dug down past the anger, the grief and the horror that was threatening, like an approaching tidal wave, to crest and tip and sweep him clean away. Beneath all of that, beneath Obi-Wan himself, there was the Force. He let it guide him as he reached forward to tap coordinates into the nav computer and then turned to look at Typho's bewildered face.

'Nowhere is safe,' he said, and went to check on Padmé.

She gave birth to twins, two small, squalling infants who were red-faced and uncoordinated. Obi-Wan held Padmé's exhausted hand and watched her attendant gently clean the younglings. Hours ago he had left Anakin to die, and now he was looking at Anakin's illicit newborn children.

'Obi-Wan?' said Padmé. 'Are you alright?'

He looked down at her in surprise. 'I'm not the one who just gave birth.'

A complicated expression passed over Padmé's face. It was amazement of a sort, a smile that glowed and faded, followed by the grief he knew was pulling at his own insides.

'They seem healthy,' he went on, returning her tight grip.

'He must never know,' Padmé said then, gazing at her younglings as they were wrapped in clean cloth. Their cries had begun to settle. 'Obi-Wan, we must hide the children from him.'

'Padmé, Anakin's injuries were severe. I do not think --'

'I will take no chances with my children's lives,' she said, her voice steely and sure. Obi-Wan had heard that tone in the Senate many times. 'We will go into hiding.'

'Very well. Do you have a place in mind?'

'I have friends on Alderaan. Bail and Breha Organa. I feel sure they will protect us, if we can reach them.'

The attendant brought over the younglings then, one at a time, and settled them in Padmé's waiting arms. Their eyes were closed. One of them rubbed a tiny fist against its own face. Obi-Wan looked away.

'What will you do?' Padmé asked after a moment, looking at the younglings.

Just thinking about it was a bit like launching oneself into a void. The Temple was destroyed. The Jedi Order had fallen. Many of his brethren had been murdered. There simply wasn't anything left that he knew. Except Anakin, he thought pointlessly. But Anakin was dying on Mustafar.

'You know you would be most welcome with us on Alderaan.'

'No,' Obi-Wan said reflexively, and a second later knew it to be the right choice. 'I must assume the clones will be hunting me, and all remaining Jedi. We should part company as soon as we reach Alderaan.'

'Will you go into hiding?'

'I don't know.'

'I'll have Captain Typho send a message to Naboo informing them that I did not survive. It will be safer. Only the people aboard this ship and my friends on Alderaan will know the truth.'

'Agreed.'

With that decided, Padmé's strength seemed to leave her, and she sank back into the pillows looking wan. The attendant came and gently took the younglings.

'I'll tell the Captain of our plans,' said Obi-Wan.

'Thank you,' Padmé said quietly, and closed her eyes.

Obi-Wan made his way back to the cockpit and sat down, glancing out at the dull starfield. They were indeed 'nowhere', an ancient system whose planets had been reduced to rubble and dust long ago. The name of the system and the civilizations that had once lived here were recorded in the Temple archives, but the galaxy itself had long forgotten them.

'All well?' Typho asked.

'Yes. The Senator is well. As are the younglings.’

'Younglings, plural?'

'Yes. The Senator is resting but she wishes you to send a message to Naboo.'

Typho was not particularly happy about sending the message but he performed admirably. He recorded an official report of the Senator's death for Queen Jamillia, and a personal one for Padmé's family.

'Won't they be suspicious when I don't go straight back?' he asked afterwards. 'They'll be expecting me to return her for the funeral.'

'I don't think they will suspect the truth,' Obi-Wan answered evasively. There were many possible reasons why Captain Typho might be waylaid returning to Naboo. 'And it is of no use to speculate. We must get to Alderaan.'

'I can plot a route that avoids all the main hyperspace lanes,' Typho said, typing commands into the computer. A hologram appeared above the dashboard showing multiple paths being calculated, thin lines that shot through one holographic system after another. 'But it will take longer to get there.'

'Keep us away from all major systems, known smugglers' routes and trade traffic.'

Typho nodded. 'We won't even disturb the space dust as we slip by,' he promised.

Obi-Wan watched him checking data and re-running the flight paths. 'Will you stay with her on Alderaan?'

'Always,' Typho said immediately.

It was a weight off Obi-Wan's mind. Padmé could look after herself, of course, but Typho would be something more than a guard. He was a friend from home.

'You won't be joining us?' Typho asked, glancing over at Obi-Wan. Diagnostics began to run on the screen beneath his fingers, casting them in green light.

'No,' Obi-Wan said. 'I have business elsewhere, I'm afraid.'

He tried to decide what that business might be but it eluded him. What he wanted, more than anything, was to lay down his head on his annoyingly-thin pillow in his rooms on Coruscant, and to listen for the distant sound of the old Temple bell signalling sunrise, and to go to sleep cradled by the chorus of a thousand Jedi living in the Force.

When he tried to let that thought go it was merely replaced by another, and another, none of them staying long enough in his mind to fully form.

'Do you think there are others?' Typho asked, as if picking up one of Obi-Wan's stray thoughts. 'Other Jedi that survived?'

'Yes. I hope so.'

'Where will they go?’

'There are many places a Jedi may go in times of trouble,' Obi-Wan said, feeling as though he were repeating a lesson. Perhaps he had said these words to Anakin once. 'They are scattered throughout the galaxy and used as safe haven when required. I am not sure how many will continue to be safe, however.’

'Can't really believe it,' Typho said, sounding stunned. 'The Chancellor — and all the clones turning on you like that. It's an absolute --'

'Yes.' Obi-Wan stood and ran a hand over his mouth. 'I am going to get some rest. Please alert me if there is a need.'

'Will do, General.'

That made Obi-Wan pause on the threshold. 'Not a general now, I think.'

Typho nodded grimly, and turned back to his dashboard.

Obi-Wan made his way to his guest quarters aboard the small ship and lay on his pallet staring at the ceiling. He reached out with his mind and sensed Padmé on the deck above, sleeping soundly. He could sense the younglings as well, as though they were tiny points of light in a dark, shifting sea.

He found himself thinking of his fellow Jedi, trying to calculate who may have survived. There was no way to know, of course; so many had been out in the field and surrounded by troopers. Many more had been slaughtered in the Temple.

Yoda was alive. Perhaps if Obi-Wan could make it to a safe haven, he may learn more, he may find others. Hope tugged at him restlessly, but he would not give himself over to it. He hardly deserved it.

He lay in the dark a long time as their ship cut silently through the vast mirror of space.

[randomaliha]

mutual pining fanfic is the best fanfic simply because it requires the characters to be at their most romantic and the height of their stupidity at all times

[randomaliha]

There are enough fox trotting young ladies in this town. You taught them to demand justice instead. And no doubt they’ll all become firebrands in their own right and try to change the world, God help us.      — Queen of the Flowers

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 @brontes requested Persuasion + water color theme (blue and sea greens)

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This is a neutral post

Feel free to stop here and rest before journeying to the posts below.

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“Light”

Painted on Procreate [2020.06] 1hour 1 layer challenge. Have a lovely day!

Art Shop / Commission / Instagram / Tip Jar

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The South Ledges, Appledore, 1913, Childe Hassam

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i hate those times when i’m in between obsessions.

like what do i daydream about? what character’s personality do I steal? what do i dedicate all my waking hours to?

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“Kenobi was luminous, a transparent being, a window onto a sunlit meadow of the Force.” -Matthew Stover

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even when i had nothing, i had bucky

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"Qui-Gon Jinn would never join you."

-- Obi-Wan Kenobi spittin' straight facts at Count Dooku.

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Saw this on Twitter last night and it's a big, big mood.

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good morning to these talented husbands who are both called david and wear the same outfits and to them ONLY

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Stucky + Ao3 Tags

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Posters for the “Star Wars” trilogy 1977 - 1983. 

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Long live the king.