#Also if any of these are considered bandom it’s news to me. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

-------------------------

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,” the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

-------------------------

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

-------------------------

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

-------------------------

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

917 notes · View notes

afro-elf · 4 years

Text

fine, i’ll elaborate on my thoughts about tylor sift but they will be disorganized

disclaimer: i know a few people will read this and be like “op is a hozier fan can she really talk about the cultural obsession with mediocre white art?” and the answer is yes because a) i’m black and i have an english degree so can do whatever i fucking want, b) hozier is a better artist than taylor objectively, like his mediocre tracks would be considered her great ones, and c) the comparison of taylor to hozier is part of the problem Genuinely because i don’t even think white people like half the music they listen to, they just don’t wanna be left behind, we’ll get into this later. i’m sorry to everyone who is tired of hearing about him but hozier will be returning later in this post jsfglsjlgldsjlfd

second note: read this

i don’t just dislike taylor because she’s white. i don’t dislike taylor because she’s a woman. i don’t dislike her because she writes mean and petty lyrics about past relationships and people who wronged her. i don’t dislike taylor because her public circle of friends is almost exclusively blonde white celebrities with their own laundry lists of issues that includes ryan reynolds and blake lively who are poster children for white privilege and pseudo-excellence if i’ve ever seen them. i dislike taylor because the amalgamation of all of those things is so exemplary of a huge problem i have with the music industry in general but also like american society

fuck it, numbered list!

1. taylor swift consistently releases the same mediocre album but in different colors. every album is the same lyrically and tonally. her body of work rarely goes very far above “good for taylor swift”. folklore as both title and musical aesthetic is irrelevant to the actual content of the album, which is just every taylor swift album except set to folk pop and with a bit more cussing, congrats for baby’s first swear. i’ve seen folklore compared to much better bodies of work and even propped up by stans as album of the year, a distinction that rina sawayama and chloe x halle will be battling it out for if there is any justice in the world at all. the fact that she is allowed to do this and still be considered great when this is something that even white male artists are butchered critically for... astounds me. like we all know how well received all of coldplay’s similar sounding albums are.... Come on.

2. i don’t think taylor or her work is particularly feminist and yet for some reason every time she frowns an army of white women brings her kleenex. i’m not saying taylor’s anger has always been unjustified, but her feminism to me has always felt like “i can do whatever a man can do” feminism, which is utterly fucking useless to me as a black woman. it’s only useful to her because as a wealthy, white, straight, cis white woman her ONLY obstacle in life is her gender. and if she just didn’t have that tricky little bitch then maybe people would take her seriously. like, just think about her music video for the man... what was the thesis of that? what was the point of that? with all of her privileges she’d just be gaining a single extra privilege. she’s a blonde blue eyed thin white girl, the world kisses her feet. i have no interest in proving myself any better or any worse than white men, they are not the standard for how a person should be treated, they’re cautionary tales, and white women are too. i think taylor capitalizes off of white woman victimhood, and it’s all over her writing style. even when she’s trying to be empowered, like in mad woman for example, there is this tone to it of victimization, poking the bear, unleashing the beast if you will. she invokes the imagery of salem witches and even more boldly chooses a noose to write about in the song which is..... surely going to be a white tumblr staple for many gifsets to come but holy shit is it hollow. she also tends to come back to teenage memories in her music and she’s thirty. i don’t think about being seventeen unless i’m being held at gunpoint but she seems to think about it All The Time. and part of this is to keep herself young, at least in her music, which only further ingrains this image of fragile teeny bopper taylor into the mind of the listener, fueling her victim image. this imagery and language means nothing because the world always rallies around taylor. even when she was the butt of jokes for not being beyonce (which she is not and never can be) and writing about her exes (which she does), she was largely supported by the industry and by critics. look at how many fucking awards she has!

3. folk and indie and alternative music is in a moment of transition, where musicians of color are getting the chance to really speak about how they’ve been treated in these overwhelmingly white circles and create their own standards and their own voices. and for taylor swift to swoop in with aaron dessner and jack antonoff fantano and almost reassert that mid-2010s indie sound as The Sound of folk pop in the popular consciousness.... it makes me violent! it! makes! me! violent!

4. back to hozier! finally, i wanna talk about white standom, fandom, bandom, and womandom. i often see these very superficial comparisons between hozier and taylor (and hozier and florence and hozier and stevie nicks and hozier and whatever other white woman in fashion) and they frustrate me for more than one reason. i know that hozier has met taylor and said she’s cool, which is nice of him and he’s a nice man, but i’m not a nice man so i’m going to just say it: none of the people who have made those posts have listened to more than four hozier songs and it shows. the reason why this matters is because these posts catch on and create an image and preconception of hozier’s music that is divorced from reality and divorced from his influences and most importantly divorced from the deliberate and reverent blackness of his musical style. hozier has his white male privilege in the industry for sure but he’s not as towering of a giant as taylor and taylor’s music is an unsalted chicken, plain oatmeal, white paint drying on a white wall, a stick of unflavored gum. her music is so white it told me that its dad is a cop. i am, as a black hozier fan, exhausted with having to share space with white women who don’t know why hozier’s music kicks me in my lungs sometimes and think that taylor mentioning a tree ONCE in her 3 minute acoustic guitar slog about whatever suburb is the same when it simply is not. i swear some of you are pretending to love taylor because your friends love her and you don’t wanna be left out of the hot new musical discourse but she’s only the hot new musical discourse CONSTANTLY because she’s a white woman, she’s almost the Perfect white woman. like if someone asked me to describe a white woman, it would be taylor swift. her position at the top of the musical pyramid among people who eclipse her musically, vocally, and lyrically is only allowed because she’s The Perfect White Woman. she’s an ideal. white girls relate to her immediately because of it and now we have this unshakable mob of unbearable white women who think that the world has wronged someone who literally wrote fanfiction about the rich oil heiress white woman who owned her rhode island mansion before her aklghlghdhlgs it drives me fucking NUTS

anyway that’s all. if you made it this far, listen to adia victoria, kaia kater, samantha crain, valerie june, kelsey lu, corinne bailey rae, brittany howard, kimya dawson, japanese breakfast, cold specks, left at london, rhiannon giddens, aisha badru, shea diamond, nadine shah, xenia rubinos, karen o, mirel wagner.... Anyone

#me #taylor swift meanie hour #long post

7K notes · View notes

generalobi · 3 years

Note

the one where jaster adopted obi-wan was precious... could you please write some more?

“Obi-Wan,” Jaster knocks on the doorframe, “We’re coming out of hyperspace, you need to get strapped in.”

Obi-Wan closes the book he’d been reading and replaces it on the shelf, and slips past Jaster on silent feet. He follows the boy into the cockpit, where he’s strapped himself into the too big straps again.

“Can I tighten those for you, ad?” Jaster asks, and Obi-Wan regards him with serious eyes.

“Okay,” he finally whispers.

It’s only slightly better than before, but Jaster will take what he can get. He straps himself in and pulls them cleanly into real space.

“Manda’lor to Sundari Palace,” he hails.

“Copy Manda’lor, platform is clear to land. Welcome home.”

The kid, Obi-Wan, is even smaller than Jango expected. The tiny Jedi follows his buir down the ramp, a strange mixture of skittish and defiant. Next to him Myles snorts. When Montross tries to greet Obi-Wan, he glares at him and shrinks away. Jango supposes that’s a valid reaction to being near a new, slimy looking stranger on hardly any sleep.

Finally, the two make their way over to where Myles and Jango are waiting, in the shade cast by the palace.

“Buir,” Jango says, nodding at him, “Verd’ika.”

Obi-Wan frowns at him, little hands clutching at Jaster’s vambrace, “I don’t speak Mando’a, it’s rude to talk to someone in a language they don’t understand.”

Jaster rolls his eyes slightly, and pulls Jango into a keldabe kiss. The gentle bump of his forehead to his buir’s calms the last of his jealousy. A new vod’ika doesn’t mean Jaster is replacing him.

“It’s good to see you, ad,” he says, smiling gently, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, buir.”

A little hand taps Jango’s, and he pulls away from his buir to see Obi-Wan staring at him intently.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says, “What does verd’ika mean?”

“Little soldier,” Jango replies.

“I’m not a soldier, though,” Obi-Wan says, spinning to stare up at Jaster, “You didn’t bring me here to be a soldier, did you?”

“No!” Jango says quickly, drawing Obi-Wan’s attention back to him, “It’s a nickname, an affectionate thing. Buir, Jaster, told me you were very brave. I won’t call you that if you don’t want me to.”

Obi-Wan considers that for a moment, then nods decisively, “I don’t mind, but most people called me Obi. And my friends called me Imp, but you can’t call me that.”

“Okay,” he draws the word out slightly, “Would you like to see your room?”

“Okay, but Jaster has to come with us.”

“Of course,” his buir says, “I won’t leave you alone until you want me to.”

“Alright,” Obi-Wan tugs on his vambrace, “Let’s go.”

Obi-Wan runs his hands over his new bedspread. It’s nice. It’s really nice actually, but it kind of makes him miss his bed in the Temple. He’s never had a room and a bed all to himself, not really. In the Creche he slept in a Clan pile, and as an Initiate he slept up in a dorm also with his Clan. On the ship to Bandomeer, he slept in communal quarters. In the mines, he didn’t sleep much. On Jaster’s ship, Jaster was always right there.

It’s becoming apparent the longer he sits in his too comfortable bed in his too quiet room that he can’t sleep at all when he’s alone.

With a sigh, Obi-Wan throws the duvet off and slides to the edge of the bed. He slips his feet into the slippers Jando had pointed out when they left him at bedtime. He doesn’t really want to bother anyone, but he can’t sleep. And Jaster was always there when he needed him on the ship.

He creeps into the hallway, and knocks on the door Jaster had said was his. When there’s no answer, he pushes it open quietly. Jaster is sleeping peacefully, snoring slightly. Obi-Wan shuts the door as silently as he can, and tiptoes his way towards the bed. He curls up into a ball on the end of the bed, just out of accidental kicking range.

He’s asleep in minutes.

#dadjaster #bandomeer #jango fett #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi needs a hug #and a nap #obi-wan kenobi needs a nap #jaster mereel #he's got two sons now #mando'a #myles #gotta love myles #i literally always add myles #if there's jango there's myles

282 notes · View notes

thiefofstars16 · 4 years

Text

Right so I have a lot of Obi-Wan-centric ideas that will not leave me alone, but here's one that I wanted to write down the start of (and also Maz Kanata deserved more screen time):

Where Obi-Wan gets taught by Maz Kanata to deal with his overwhelming visions, questionably nice-ish Sith and frankly vicious Jedi holocrons, and somehow unexpectedly (or maybe predictably?) falls in love with Jango Fett, the future Mand'alor. Along the way, he royally fucks up the thousand-year-plan-to-rule-the-galaxy made by Darth Bane's idiots, saves the Haat Mando'ade and Mandalore as a whole, and gives the Jedi Order a collective kick in the ass to get their shit together.

----

Obi-Wan Falls while on Melida/Daan, and he's just...furious. Wants to rail at the injustice that he's suffered, at the injustice that the Young had faced, that he had faced on Bandomeer, on Phindar, at the Coruscant Temple itself, at his own Master who didn't even want him in the first place. But at his core, he's still the same even having Fallen, he knows this - he still wants to do good, still wants to help people. It's just...where does he go from here?

----

Obi-Wan Kenobi, cast out from the Order after the latest clusterfuck that was Melida/Daan, somehow ends up at Dex's Diner, alone, with no braid, no 'sabre, and honestly, no idea what to do next. He didn't even realize that he was in the diner that his Master - former Master - had taken him to in their brief time together.

Dex, though, sits across from this pint-sized former-Padawan, remembers that at one time the baby Jedi looked at him and decided that he'd save Dex because it was "the right thing to do " (the baby Jedi's words, not his). And Dex could not let this kid go out on his own, so he goes to his collection of interesting things - which was usually information - that included items which were supplied by a former pirate, who so happened to be quite knowledgeable in weird Force things.

Which is entirely the reason I'm entrusting Ol' Kanata with this kid, Dex thinks, a bit bemused, Though who's to say it's not Maz trusting me to lead Obi-Wan back to her? Considering she probably saw this coming in the first place.

So, he discreetly hands Obi-Wan the things he'd received from Maz for safe-keeping (who had given Dex a knowing look and said she'd be seeing these items again) - which, obviously, include a few holocrons (of slightly questionable nature), many spare credit chips, and (maybe not-so-suprisingly) two khyber and one adegan crystals that sing in the Force loudly enough to startle Obi-Wan from the daze he'd been in since he sat down.

"What's this?" Obi-Wan quietly asks, slightly wary, but intrigued at the hum of the crystals now in his hands.

Dex laughs. "Don't you worry, kid. I got all of this from a reputable source! In fact, that source could be your next stop, as from what I understand you ain't got no one to go back to?" Dex says, not unkindly.

A sharp sting of sorrow cuts Obi-Wan to the core, but he nods, somewhat confused.

"Well then, I can get you on a ship headed out to Takodana to stay with Ol' Kanata - she can get you settled real quick-like," he pauses, shrugs a little, "she'll also be able to help with any funny Force things that your kind get up to, Dark or Light."

The thing is, even only knowing Dex for a short while, Obi-Wan is one hundred percent sure that Dex knows an entirely illegal amount about what happened even if the larger populace remains unaware.

With this knowledge at the forefront of his mind, Obi-Wan is a bit wary. If he were a bit less numb, he'd probably be in tears at the suggestion that there might be someone actually able to help him deal with his recent trip into the well of the Dark. He knew that if someone were truly aware of how far he'd Fallen - because not even the Council knew the extent - then he would be in major karking shit.

But he counted Dex as a friend, and with a little questioning nudge to the Force, knew with certainty that Dex only wanted to help him, even if that meant skirting Republic law.

(He knew he Fell, he knew that he had killed people, though the memories of broken bodies and blood were so blurry that he couldn't remember their faces.

Their screams, on the other hand? Oh, he remembered those.

He couldn't stop remembering those.

A small part of him - the part that had raged at the Republic's refusal to get involved, at Master Jinn's own karking attachment to Master Tahl, at the Elders murdering each other, at the Elders killing their own damned children for the sake of war and death and blood - that part bared sharp teeth in savage triumph at the justice he had handed out and purred at the memory of those screams.)

Shaking himself from the direction his thoughts had taken, he looked at Dex and with a tremor in his voice, asked, "You think she could help me-help me get rid of my Darkness?"

The Besalisk sighed. "Kid, no one can ever truly get rid of their own Darkness. Hells, I know I'm not fully clean anymore and won't ever be," Obi-Wan slumped, and hastily wiped away the frustrated tears that had started to form; Dex leaned down to put one of his hands on Obi-Wan's shoulders, "But that doesn't mean she can't help you. Ol' Kanata knows a thing or two about Light and Dark, and she'll give you a space where you can sort things out for yourself, safely, and away from prying eyes. She knows quite a bit about staying off the Republic's radar, and she can give you a place where you can do all things you need to do. I know you, kid - I know that you won't want to stop helping people."

Dex paused, and said with warning, "It won't be easy, kid. There's all sorts hanging around her den - bounty hunters, smugglers, even Mandos - but she'll do right by you. And I have a sense that you need her. So. Whaddya say?"

The mention of those types of people, of Mandalorians, caused Obi-Wan to pale. But he frowned, opened himself up to the currents of the Force and tried to think this through, because really what choice did he have?

On some level he wanted to say no, to go crawling back to the Jedi Order and beg to be accepted again, to be a Jedi, he knew he was supposed to have been a Jedi Knight, he knew that war was on the horizon and that Darkness clouded the Force and that he needed to do something -

He stopped that thought in it's tracks. Because. Because...what was stopping him from doing something about what was coming? Truly? What was stopping him from being a Jedi? Yes, he wouldn't be a part of the Order, and maybe he wouldn't have a Master, but isn't the Code just a philosophy? Couldn't he strive to do good, to help others, to do as the Force willed on his own?

It was almost heretical. To be a Jedi that didn't bow to the Order. To be a Fallen Jedi that, that...that could work in the Dark to serve the Light.

He could do it, he mused. He could go to this 'Kanata', take the offer of shelter and learn from the artifacts given to him by Dex, learn from those who walked a different path. It would be dangerous, especially if there were Mandalorians involved. Though...if he did this, he wouldn't be a Jedi anymore, would he?

What else did he have to lose? He's already lost his chance at being part of the Order, at being a Padawan, at proving himself to the Masters that thought him too arrogant and brash and un-Jedi-like.

Well, Obi-Wan thought with a bit of self-reproach and no small amount of growing excitement, if I was already un-Jedi-like while actually being in the Jedi Order, then I suppose I really don't have anything to lose, do I?

With a nod of determination, a tight grip on the newly aquired items, and something of a new hope unfurling in is heart, he accepted Dex's offer of a haven with Maz Kanata and her possibly-not-so-legal den of wandering spacers.

Obi-Wan had no idea that in doing so, he changed the course of the galaxy.

(Somewhere, a bit later on, Palpatine feels a shiver of not-quite-unease crawl down his spine. But, he dismisses the absolute absurd idea that something had changed, that something had caused the galaxy to shift to the Light.

If he had looked into it, he would have found that one Maz Kanata, along with a former young Jedi by the name of Obi-Wan Kenobi, had a curious little run-in with the bounty hunter and Mand'alor Jaster Mereel.

Arrogance, as per usual, would be the downfall of the Sith of Bane's Line.)

#yikes that was longer than anticipated #a thought - the song playing on repeat during writing this is awakening by unleash the archers #i want to continue this but i am decidely tired af atm #maybe I'll post another bit again next week or so #idk if I'll finish this #but if i do #ill tag it as something that i can come back to #theifofstars fic - awakening #jangobi #sith obi wan #or really morally gray Obi-Wan #maz kanata #not really qui-gon jinn friendly #obi-wan is a bit fucked up #and a lot sad #sw fanfic #star wars #good gods I've edited this so many times lmao #lemme know what yall think?#also anyone catch the assassins creed ref #and sw pun?#i figure there'll be flashbacks to just before this and melida/daan #awakening: pt 1 #actually the song that fits this is 'the wind that shapes the land' by unleash the archers now that im thinking about it #obi wan kenobi

158 notes · View notes

myquadratur · 3 years

Text

I’m currently being overrun by SW plotbunnies. Lots of them dealing with Obi-Wan’s childhood and him getting a new master. Or finding a different one right from the start. So, I’ve been doing some research and rereading the Jedi Apprentice books. Bandomeer and Melida/Daan are just the gifts that keep on giving, aren’t they?. Anyway, Star Wars world building is a catastrophe, isn’t it? So much stuff doesn’t make any sense. Granted, the JA books are now Legends and no longer Canon, but still in what world does a system make sense, where kids have to chase after Knights and Masters to ask them if they want a padawan? There’s so much wrong with that. Anyway, on to the Councils. Which ... make even less sense. So, there’s the Council of Reassignment and the Council of First Knowledge. Both Councils have five members each and some of these council members also sit on the High Council. Considering that there are roughly 10.000 Jedi, and probably at least 1.000-2000 kids, that’s a very small number. Especially if some do double duty. I mean, my current home town as roughly 3.500 citizen and we have twelve people on the city council, plus the major and his staff. The Council of First Knowlegde is responsible for the Jedi Academy, the Temple Archives, the Holocron Vaults and the eradication of the SIth and all Sith articfacts. And the Shadows. Acording to wookiepedia, as part of their duties regarding the Jedi Academy, they not also handle the education of the younglings and padawans, but also offer advice and help to knights and masters in need.

Five beings handle all of that. Really? Just the Academy would require more if one considers the age-range covered. And the various species found in the Star Wars universe.

They must have a massive staff in the background. Which makes me wonder if Jedi Knights make up that staff or if they recruit their staff from the various corps. Why is there no Administration Corps? Or a Kitchen Corps? Someone must provide all these Jedi with food. Which, considering the wide array of races, sounds like a momentous task.

The Caretaker of First Knowledge has their position for live or unless they decide to step down. That puts way too much power in the hand of one person for a long time. Master T’un, who sits of the Council of First Knowledge has been

Again, according to Wookiepedia most members on the Council were from long-lived species. Supposedly because they had the experience and the knowledge to advice and guide knights and masters asking for their help. Maybe that’s a personal thing, but I’m a fan of term-limits for elected or nominated positions in government or the judiciary.

Then there’s the Council of Reassignment. They handle the Service Corps and ... Jedi younglings unable to find a master.

So, initiates and their training and education is handled by the Council of First Knowledge, but when they can’t find a master (by chasing after them and pestering them?), they are somehow somewhere handed over to the Council of Reassignment? Who then finds them a place? Somewhere?

Reading through all of that, I also ended up wondering if masters wanting to take on a padawan were in any way of form screened or tested for suitability. Or if they had to classes on pedagogy?

Lots of stuff to consider and lots of fodder for fanfics.

10 notes · View notes

buaibai · 2 years

Text

I got the book yesterday afternoon, and finished it 5 am this morning. It was a pretty good/easy read. I had wanted to write down my thoughts about the story when I finished it, but it was 5 am.

**major spoiler alert**

(also English is not my native language but I’ll do my best to be intelligible.)

For a long time I had been reluctant to read any of the new “canon” of Obi-Wan’s padawan years, because I had grew up with the Jedi Apprentice series, which is fundamental to my understanding of Obi-Wan’s character. The arcs with Bandomeer, Melida/Daan, Xanatos/Bruck, and Zan Arbor were pretty much ingrained in my brain. Personally, it is still a little unsettling to read stories that contradict the JA storyline, but I suspect that, with the help of some mental gymnastics, I might manage to meld the old and new stories into a semi-coherent head canon.

While the apprenticeship described by the Padawan is more TCW compliant, there are quite a few things in the book that are consistent with the JA series:

Obi-Wan as a teenager struggled with self-doubt, despite excelling at saber work and a lot of his studies.

A major part of it was due to Qui-Gon’s mannerism as a teacher (more on this later).

And part of it was likely because (allegedly) Master Yoda had been the one to push them together. Obi-Wan was never chosen.

Obi-Wan, even as a teen, was always, always ready to give his life in order to save others (*unhappy Cody and Anakin noises*).

The new characters as Obi-Wan’s fellow padawan (in particular, Bolla) were quite interesting. I was a little disappointed at the lack of Quinlan, but Siri has made it into this story with a less annoying (sorry) personality (I wonder if she is still a Tachi and if Adi is still her master). The author made it sound like they have different initiate friends than padawan friends, which is an intriguing concept (like going to different elementary schools and middle schools).

And I can’t help but find Padawan Kenobi extremely… cute, for the lack of a better word. In the beginning of the story, he was essentially a very polite ball of anxiety. His interactions with Aces (Aces! He nicknamed his droid Aces!) and the younglings on Lenahra were so endearing it melted my heart. His interaction with animals, plants, and the planet gave me warm, fuzzy Ghibli vibes. Obi-Wan’s realization that the core reason for his struggles were that he cared deeply about everyone and everything, and him making a mental list of useful skills to learn once he’s back in the Temple (and evidently he did learn them), made me smile because they were just so in character of Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The part that everyone is talking about - the implication that Obi-Wan might be biromantic and asexual, or at least questioning - I don’t find all that surprising. At least in my head canon, Obi-Wan has always been somewhere on the ace/aro spectrum (though I do love a good ship story, and there are A LOT of those in the fandom), and I consider him more of a pan, in the sense that gender matters little to his attractions, than a bi. But it’s nice to have my head canon more or less confirmed. Also Anakin kinda gave him away in RotS.

The book has also done quite a bit of foreshadowing:

Dooku’s statement that Qui-Gon would’ve joined him if he’d been alive, and Obi-Wan’s conviction that no, actually, he wouldn’t, all made more sense now (the author had also wrote it in a way that suggests that Dooku and Obi-Wan were destined to not meet until AotC, which is interesting).

Upon meeting the inhabitants on the mysterious planet, the first thing Obi-Wan said was hello there and the first thing Obi-Wan did afterwards was losing his lightsaber.

It’s quite clear that Obi-Wan already had a propensity for negotiating (even when the opponents were trying to kill him) and inappropriate comments in life/death situations. As well as his future skill in animal bonding and mind influence. Obi-Wan was also already masterful in finding faults in himself and finding ways to self-recriminate (*frowning in Cody*).

The rumination about the Jedi Council (“they were old” lmao), and the disbelief that Obi-Wan could possibly have an apprentice “worse” than him… Oh he had no idea…

Obi-Wan giving himself to the Force instead of trying to use it reminds me of Dooku’s observation of him in the Force in RotS - a vessel of the Force, a window where light shines through. The part where Obi-Wan let go, is also reminiscent of him letting go in the midst of his fight with Vader on Mustafar, allowing the Force to dictate his actions.

Obi-Wan’s decision to dedicate his life to following the Force regardless of his status as a Jedi, his desire to help everyone in the galaxy, and his love of the Jedi, the Temple, and Coruscant… I didn’t know it’s possible for me to feel even sadder about his fate...

(Speaking of which, I was also curious about the ominous financier who had wanted to harvest the Power to use against the Jedi - was he Darth Plagueis?)

Okay. On the topic of Qui-Gon Jinn (apologies in advance for the long rant ahead). I severely disapprove of his attitudes and decisions in the JA series, but I didn’t hate him as a character, because we were made aware the underlying psychological trauma contributing to his flaws. Though it does not exonerate his mistreatment of the one child dependent on and looking up to him, I at least understand him to be emotionally compromised. The Qui-Gonna Jinn in Padawan, however, even though it was later attributed to Obi-wan’s misunderstanding, seemed just inherently (and frustratingly) inscrutable, without any good reasons beyond his personality and teaching style. There were indeed some good moments (and Obi-Wan was apparently secure enough to find him annoying (lmao), unlike the JA Obi-Wan), but there were also points at which I wanted to tell him to please just talk to your kid. I do get the let-the-child-work-out-their-own-issues method and even some of its potential benefits, but at least provide them with the assurance that they will have a place by you even if they do not succeed for the moment? So much of Obi-Wan’s anxiety and insecurity (and the resulting downward spiral that blocked him from the Force in the first place) were simply because he’d felt misplaced due to his perceived failure to connect with his Master - are they really necessary to teach Obi-Wan to trust the Force? After all, the two years of temple-bound meditation administered by Qui-Gon had done Obi-Wan no good, and he would’ve been stuck still if not for this self-imposed rebellious mission. It just seemed like lazy teaching. Also, had he no concern for the kid’s safety? I kept thinking that it was entirely feasible for Qui-Gon to track Obi-Wan to the planet; he’d told him which trial to follow and it would only take a trip to the Archive to find out. It seemed like Qui-Gon trust the Force so much that if Obi-Wan ended up dead, it would be the Will of the Force and therefore fine with him. And to think that, when faced with certain death, the two thoughts on Obi-Wan’s mind were 1) hoping his last act would help his friends, and 2) hoping Qui-Gon wouldn’t feel guilty about his death after he’d found out… I guess Qui-Gon did canonically enter a nine-year-old Anakin in pod race, so there is no way around his disregard for the safety of his charges. I don’t know if I like this version of Qui-Gon any better than the one from the JA series.

And a (major) part of it was because I severely dislike tardy people.

On the bright side, I like this version of Dex and Obi-Wan first meeting much more - a friend from a shared adventure and not just a friend of his master’s. I don’t remember if Dex’s former occupation as a weapon dealer was canon, so I was a little confused by him identifying as a miner in the book (though he was responsible for handling the mining bombs). I hope to read more of Obi-Wan’s adventures involving Dex because I really enjoyed his character.

The part of the story where Obi-Wan reflected on the power the Jedi were given, which necessitated the structure and rules they were bound by, I thought was really good. I know many people dislike the Jedi for their rigidity, specifically the no attachment rule, but there were practical and historical reasons for their implementations, namely to make sure the Jedi use responsibly the power they were given instead of wielding their privileges freely. No attachment simply means no attachment above duty, it does not equate forbiddance of love and compassion. And if one chooses something else over duty, they are free to leave and welcome to visit, just as what Qui-Gon had said about Dooku (which is another part of the story I really liked). It’s only when someone (*ahem*) secretly keeps a marriage vow on top of the Jedi vow that it becomes a problem. The downfall of the Jedi, in my humble opinion, had much more to do with its ties to a corrupt senate, than any one of its restrictions.

Overall, I liked the book. It’s well-paced and insightful in places. I think the most prominent and lasting impression I will have of the story is OBI-WAN INTERACTING WITH DROIDS AND YOUNGLINGS AND ANIMALS AND PLANTS AND A WHOLE PLANET OMG HE SO CUTE!!!

(sorry life is just really stressful rn.)

6 notes · View notes

raith-way · 3 years

Text

Fic Writer Tag Game

My first AO3 fic was posted back in June, of this year, so some of these answers are going to be embarrassing. Most of my AO3 catalogue is oneshots and drabbles, but let’s do this! Thank you @asirensrage for the tag!!

How many works do you have on AO3?

What’s your total AO3 word count?

78,540

How many fandoms have you written for, and what are they?

6 – Bandom (My Chemical Romance, Avenged Sevenfold, Falling In Reverse, Taylor Swift) / Buffy The Vampire Slayer / Fast & Furious / DC Extended Universe (Batman V Superman, Justice League) / (The) Suicide Squad / Marvel (The Avengers)

What are your top five fics by kudos?

Keeping Us Down Is Impossible – The Suicide Squad (2021) / Rick Flag x Reader / Oneshot / Summary: You’re on a mission with a new team, thinking about your original team, only to find out part of that team is here. One thing is clear: You are going to survive this mission, and so is Rick Flag. / Kudos: 42

Things Are Getting A Little Hazy – Buffy The Vampire Slayer / OFC x OMC / WIP / Summary: Grace Blackburn’s great destiny was to give Angel a choice, and his decision sets the future for Sunnydale. With visions of the end and the formation of strange friendships, Grace navigates the new direction her life has taken while trying to convince her new brooding vampire bestie that he can be happy. AU after BTVS Season 3 & ATS doesn’t exist. / Kudos: 5

One Step At A Time – Fast and Furious / Jakob Toretto x OFC / Oneshot / Summary: Everything around them is being destroyed, and all they have is a moment. Just this one moment. / Kudos: 3

Memento Mori – DCEU (Post Justice League) / Bruce Wayne x OFC / WIP / Summary: Ryan Lopez should be six feet under, or at least be reduced to ash along with her former life. Instead she was trapped in the corporate world of Gotham, with nothing but cryptic messages from a grandfather she never knew and a soldier who acted like her butler. Not to mention that there was something very wrong with that Bruce Wayne guy. / Kudos: 2

Mistakes – Suicide Squad / Rick Flag x OFC / Oneshot / Summary: Rev waits at Belle Reve for Rick to return from a meeting, and not just because she wants to see him in his too-tight suit. (But also so she can see the way he looks in his too-tight suit.) / Kudos: 2

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, because I like letting readers know that I read their comments and appreciate that they took the time to leave a comment.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

That would be a oneshot, Washing Away Reality, in the DC (Batman) fandom.

Do you write crossovers? If so, what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Not really? Two of my fics crossover, but they’re both in the same DC Universe so I don’t think that counts.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I don’t have any posted, yet, but I do write it. The kind depends on the fic and the character perspective I’m writing in. Sometimes it’s more vague, some scenes focus more on the emotion of the moment, and others are more graphic.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope.

What’s your all-time favorite ship?

I’m not even sure how to answer that. Out of all the fandoms? I definitely can’t choose. Out of my current fics? My all-time favorite ship is probably Grace Blackburn (OFC) and Eliot Greenwood (OMC), from my BTVS fic Things Are Getting A Little Hazy. Their relationship is practically destined.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish, but don’t think you ever will?

My band fic, Soundtrack Of The Revolution. It’s planned out, all 400 chapters of it, but I’ve been working on it for a decade. I’m not giving up, but we’ll see if it ever gets completed.

What are your writing strengths? What are your writing weaknesses?

Someone who’s read my stories would have to tell me my strengths, because I have no clue. I just ramble sentences onto a word document and hope that it makes sense. My weaknesses would probably be my descriptions. I overly describe things and occasionally go off on tangents, which causes my chapters to be ridiculously long. I consider that to be a weakness.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I try not to do it, because I’m only fluent in English, but I will write dialogue in another language with the help of Google Translate. If I get it too wrong, hopefully someone will correct me. When I can though, I prefer to just mention that the character is speaking in another language without having to actually write the other language because I don’t want to butcher it.

What was the first fandom you’ve written for?

This question hurts my soul. The very first fandom? It would have to be a band fic, probably Avenged Sevenfold, way back in about 2006. Thankfully, all of those fics have been lost to time and will never be read by anyone ever again. Knowing that helps me sleep at night.

What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

This is such an unfair question, because how do I pick just one? My favorite fic, that I have personally written, isn’t posted under this name so it’ll have to remain a mystery. My favorite fic that I’ve written under this name, has to be Soundtrack Of The Revolution. Yes, it’s a band fic even though those stopped being popular over a decade ago. I also realize the irony of my favorite fic being the fic that I'm not sure if it'll ever be completed. It’s the most self-indulgent fic that I have ever written, and I’ve been working on it off-and-on since 2009. Seeing how it’s changed and what has remained the same over the years is mind-blowing, and I truly love the story and the characters. So, yeah, it’s my favorite.

Tagging: @wordspin-shares @thecharmedburrowspn-files @lokitrasho @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle @darknightfrombeyond @stanshollaand @captainrcgers @jinxsflame @jewelswrites-ish @hiddenqveendom

#fic writer tag game #tagged by siren #thank you!!#i know it's a rambling mess #but it was fun to answer!#also #if i tagged you #you can completely ignore it

19 notes · View notes

meantforinfinitesadness · 3 years

Note

Hey Kali!!! Any chance you’d be down to make a Sith!Obi-Wan rec list? Obvs there’s a ton of fics from this past Codywan week, but just curious if you’ve seen any other Sith!Obi fics! :) Thank uuuu!!!

Hello Anon!!!! I'm sorry to say that I accidentally deleted your other ask about what ship you wanted, but don't worry! I did read it before I deleted it lol.

Also, I wanted to get this up yesterday, but I...had kind of a rough day because of work. I'm not very rested, but I'm feeling much better and I now present to you your list!!!

Oh, you've probably read all of these. I don't have too many codywan sith Obi-Wan fics at the moment. LMAO JUST REALIZED THE REASON I DON'T HAVE VERY MANY IS BECAUSE I NEVER GOT TO BOOKMARKING ALL THE CODYWANWEEK SITH AU FICS SO THERE'S THAT

That being said, I did rec a few of this years fics, which I realize you mentioned in the ask....lol whoops. I'm also saying that you should read all of the sith au fics from the event.

There are also a few that aren't codywan at the very end. I listed the ship (if it has one) if you're interested.

Oh, and I didn't put any spicy fics in this rec list!!! If I did, and didn't realize it, I'm so sorry.

A Beast Among Bookends; or, How to Domesticate Your Feral Librarian by @the-writing-mill A separation and a tumble on a mission leads Obi-Wan Kenobi down a different path in life.

Years later, during the clone wars, the 212th is sent to take out Darth Libri after failed attempts by both the CIS and Republic to sway him to their sides. The mission does not go well.

But if Cody choosing to stay with the vode's nightmare for a bit can spare his brothers, well... that's not really a choice, is it?

Limited By The Light by @wanderingjedihistorian After watching the missile come so close to killing Cody, Obi-Wan is done. He welcomes the Dark and all the power it brings. He won't be limited by the light any longer. It is time for the war to end.

What came after by @galateagalvanized “Are you all the Council sent, then?” Bo-Katan asks, swinging one leg over the speeder’s seat. Her voice is raspy, and Cody wonders if it’s from smoke inhalation. “Considering they wouldn’t help with the first Sith, I guess I should be glad for any help at all with the second.”

It's the first time he's heard someone use that word to describe Kenobi, and he bristles.

“We’re not here on behalf of the Council, Miss Kryze. We're here for our general.”

Or: Everyone has a breaking point. That includes Obi-Wan.

That includes Cody.

No End in Sight by TreeOfTime Commander Cody serves under General Jinn in the Clone Wars. Since the very beginning a mysterious Sith has been plaguing near victories of the Republic and ripping them out of their grasp. Commander Cody isn't sure what his purpose is or what his intentions are but when they finally meet on the battlefield, things go wrong and he must face this opponent alone.

oh how unreasonably in love I am by @buckytheboss “Hello there,” Obi-wan Kenobi said to him, not even looking in his direction. The Sith was laying in the grass, hands behind his head, and copper hair spread in the grass around him. He turned to face him, and somehow it surprised Cody that his eyes were yellow. That’s just how Sith were, he’d been told. But it seemed…. wrong.

On Reasonable Terms by @wanderingjedihistorian Prince Cody of Mandalore captured the Sith Emperor's interest the first time he saw him in battle. Obi-Wan is only mortal and can't resist making Cody return to Coruscant with him as part of Mandalore's surrender. It is perhaps both the best, and the most foolish, thing he has ever done.

Fallen (series) (jangobi) by @thebisexualmandalorian

Polaris (series) (rexobi) by @bluemaskedkarma What if Obi-Wan Kenobi never went to Bandomeer? What if, instead, he got on a different ship? Those steps set into motion an entirely different future, one where he takes on different names until an unlikely friend gives him one that sticks--Red. All he wanted was to help those in need, but somewhere along the way he became the one who needs. Who will help him?

You Shall Become (Me) by jedipati The Guardian of the Sith Temple doesn’t particularly care for the new breed of Sith, for all that they’ve been around for 1,000 years. But they’re the only Sith the Guardian knows about. Until one day…

Alternately, "How to accidentally join the Sith without really trying."

Changing Fate (quiobi) by @robinasnyder Obi-Wan is the worst Sith in history, only kept alive because of his close relationship with Darth Maul. He begins getting visions from a young age where he became a strong, upstanding Jedi, everything he ever wanted. So when he comes face to face again with the Master who rejected him and sent him off to the nightmare he's been trapped in, Obi-Wan is willing to take a chance. After all, even if he died, his life couldn't get any worse.

#kalis rec list #kalis fic recs #sith obi wan #fic rec list

50 notes · View notes

lo-55 · 4 years

Text

Tilt The Hourglass Ch. 11

Forget putting a bell on Maul, Maul was going to put a leash on Kenobi.

The foolish boy had made the executive decision to leave before dawn with no more than a note.

Maul handed the piece of flimsi to Jango, his jaw set tight.

Dear Mr. Fett and Maul,

I went back to the Agri-Corps dome to get another look at the secret room in case I saw something I missed before that might help Master Jinn. I will return with lunch around midday planet time. Thank you for last night, and I apologize for the inconvenience.

Sincerely, Jedi Initiate Obi Wan Kenobi

Jango didn’t look any happier to see the note than Maul felt. He knew Kenobi was impulsive and foolish but this was truly ridiculous.

How was it possible that this was the same man who had consistently beaten Maul through his lifetime?

Maul paused.

Well. Kenobi had charged a Sith head on after his vaunted master had fallen to his hand. He’d taken only a single other Jedi to confront that same Sith when he had back up. He’d left the Jedi with no help at all to try to rescue Satine. Maul had seen him fight on full battlefields and loose his lightsaber. And, he was also the one who had raised Skywalker and Tano.

What was that saying about Neti falling from their branches?

Maul realized with no small degree of horror that Kenobi had mellowed with age, and this one was twice as rash as the one he’d known.

Well fuck.

Maul had been busy in his room in the morning after breakfast, and Jango had been off talking to someone on a private comm that he wasn’t allowed to eavesdrop on, and in the middle of all that Kenobi had just. Vanished.

“I should have kept a better eye on him,” Maul scowled at the flimsi, quietly willing it to light on fire. He’d never gotten the hang of spontaneous combustion, and it didn’t work now either.

Jango shot him an unimpressed look over the edge of the parchment. It was small, hotel issued.

“I’m pretty sure you’re younger than him,” Jango said patiently, “so if anything he should have been watching you.”

He didn’t even bother with Maul’s bristling pride this time. Jango wouldn’t snap at him, of that Maul was certain, but he was clearly irritated by Kenobi’s lack of forethought.

It didn’t help that a moment later the door swung open and Clat’Ha strode in, her eyes white around the edges, with Jinn in tow.

Maul blinked at the white bandages plastered to the normally dignified Jedi’s nose. Was Jinn getting in bar fights now? At this point it wouldn’t surprise Maul.

“What-”

Jango was cut off by Clat’Ha, who had gone pale.

“It’s Obi Wan. He’s gone missing.”

Maul’s blood went cold. His face blanched to grey-pink. “What?”

Missing? Truly missing?

Maul’s mind went to Xanatos. He was the only other threat they had encountered on this journey. Well, the only one that still lived. The draigons were gone, the pirates were space dust, only the washed out Padawan was left.

“He went to the AgriCorps dome this morning,” Jango said, showing them the note. Jinn’s mouth thinned into a line and his brows pinched together.

“Si Treemba said he saw him there, but he vanished. They heard shouting and fighting near the annex they found the other day, but when they got there Obi Wan was gone,” Clat’Ha shook her head mournfully.

“We have to find him,” Jango spoke for all of them.

Jinn held up his hand.

“We must be patient,” he counselled, and Maul knew he wasn’t the only one who wanted to strike the Jedi in the face. “If we rush in with haste, we run the risk of putting him in further danger.”

“Funny to hear that from the Jedi,” Jango snapped.

Jinn narrowed his eyes. “I wouldn’t expect a man like yourself to understand the subtleties of bidding ones time and gathering information-”

“It’s hard to gather information when you hoard cards to your chest like a hutt on a losing streak-”

“If you needed to know I would tell you-”

“Like you told Obi Wan? Listen you-”

“Enough!” Clat’Ha snapped, stepping between the bickering men. It was enough to get them to cut it out, at least momentarily. “Arguing helps no one, now shut up. Our first priority needs to be looking for Obi Wan. I’m going out to the dome to see if I can find any leads. And you two are not going to go after eachother the second I’m gone, got it?”

She looked pointedly from one man to the other, until both were bowed to her will.

Maul would have been impressed in any other situation.

“Kenobi isn’t dead,” Maul said with certainty. All three looked at him, startled. Maul met their eyes defiantly. “He’s not weak enough as to roll over and die just like that.”

“...The kids right,” Clat’Ha’s shoulders relaxed and she slowly eased into a smile. “We’ll find him. I’m off, I’ll comm you if I find anything new.”

“I’m going to go to the dockmaster,” Jango said finally. “I’ll find out if there’s a ship that’s left Bandomeer that might have him on it. Maul, you should come with me. It’ll be dangerous.”

Maul shook his head. “I’ll find you later. I wanna check on a rumor I heard first.”

Jango eyed him suspiciously, but Maul had proven himself resourceful and dangerous. Reluctantly, the Mandalorian agreed.

“Just keep your head down, okay? I’ll be very upset if I don’t get the chance to adopt you properly.”

Maul kicked his boot. “Cut the sentimental Banthashit,” he scolded. “You’re supposed to be a Mandalorian, a fearsome warrior!”

“And there’s nothing Mandalorian’s value more than our ade, Maul’ika. Children are our future, and you are mine.” Jango patted his head lightly, minding his horns. “Meet back here tonight, or I’m coming to find you.”

Maul rolled his eyes. As it he hadn’t noticed the tracer Jango had slipped into his poncho pocket. He would leave it be for now. If he went somewhere he didn’t want Jango following he would take it out and attach it a tooka for Jango to follow after.

For the time being, he left the apartments and headed to the Offworld admin building in Bando.

It wasn’t hard to sneak in through the vents. It was one of the only good things about being this small again, was how easy it was to slide through buildings and ships. He had to carefully rerout a few cleaning droids, but besides that he didn’t have any trouble finding Xanatos’ office. He did, however, notice that the door was hidden behind the same opaque wall that Kenobi had found in the dome.

Certainly Xanatos’ work.

Maul briefly considered kicking out the grate and ripping Kenobi’s location from Xanatos’ screaming throat, but the building was situated between an actual mine and a smelting facility. There would be guards, miners, and a hundred other workers in the building, and if it went into lock down Maul had seen laser grid generators in the vents on his way in. He didn’t fancy fighting an army of disgruntled Offworlders or getting cut in half again, thank you.

There was always window, he supposed…

But Maul was patient. He had to be.

He hated it.

It went against his very nature. Still, he was rather good at lying in wait.

He watched Xanatos work. It was hard to see from this angle, but in the reflection of the window Maul caught his fingers moving, and the input of codes. He watched the pattern that formed. The computer showed only a code, and while Maul didn’t have the key he had enough to work it out.

He even got the password.

Crion.

When Xanatos made for the door Maul carefully lifted a familiar lightsaber off of his hip and set it gently aside. As soon as Xanatos left Maul slowly eased his way out of his hiding place. He grabbed the lightsaber, one he had once thrown into the plasma generators in Theed, and searched Xanatos’ correspondences for any mention of Obi Wan in his little code. He found a few, but they were vague and brief.

It told Maul just enough to know that Obi Wan was alive, and had been sent a mine in the seas.

Maul copied as many files as he could and saved them a data stick in the desk drawer before he made off for the vents and the outside world.

By then it was nearing dark. The miners had traded shifts, and the office workers had gone home.

Maul was sneaking around the side of the building when he heard something very interesting.

Jinn.

The master was sneaking around the shadows like a common thief. Like Sith. Maul nearly laughed. The Jedi hypocrisy would never cease to amaze him.

"If you have plans for Bandomeer, you should know I am here to stop you," he said, his voice low but full of Force. It really was his intention to put a stop to his former Padawan’s ploy here.

Xanatos flung one side of his cloak behind him dramatically, and Maul could see the lines of lineage. Kenobi had a habit of stripping himself of his own cloaks, as did Tano. His hand rested casually on the hilt of a lightsaber. A familiar lightsaber.

Xanatos patted the lightsaber. "Yes, I still have it. After all, I trained for all those years. Why should I give it up like a thief, when I deserve to carry it?"

Maul was beginning to think he was going to have to write down when he knew about Jedi traditions and cross check it. He had been raised to kill them, which meant he needed to learn how they fought and how their sentimentality made them weak.

He didn’t know there were rules about keeping lightsabers after leaving an order.

To be fair, a sith never would have been given the chance.

"Because you deserve it no longer," Jinn answered. "You shame it."

A flush spread over Xanatos' face. Jinn’s comment had hit him. Xanatos still cared what Jinn thought of him.

Good.

Maul could use that.

He was stiff, and angry, then he relaxed, smiling. Maul tracked his emotions carefully. Weaknesses. Everyone had weaknesses.

"I see you are still a hard man, Qui-Gon. Once that bothered me. Now it amuses me." Xanatos began to circle around him. "We were friends at the end, more than Master and apprentice."

"Yes," Jinn said, taking careful steps to keep up with Xanatos. Maul tensed when he turned so he could have seen him if he were looking. He didn’t.

"We were."

"All the more reason for you to betray me. To you, friendship is nothing. You enjoyed my suffering."

"The betrayal was yours. As was the enjoyment of suffering. That is what you discovered on Telos. Yoda had already seen it. And that is why he knew you would fail."

"Yoda!" Xanatos spat the word. "That knee-high troll! He thinks he has power. He hasn't dreamed of a tenth of the power I know!"

"You know?" Qui-Gon asked mildly. "How do you know such power, Xanatos? A mid-level manager of a corporation, sent to do the board's bidding?"

"I do no one's bidding but my own."

"Is that why you're here? Is Bandomeer a test of your abilities?"

"I don't take tests," Xanatos snapped. "I make the rules. Bandomeer is mine. All I have to do is reach out my hand and take it."

He circled closer, his cloak swirling and brushing against Jinn. He was a viper waiting to strike, but his fangs weren’t out. Maul knew Xanatos’ words. He had heard the same himself.

A Sith does not wait for opportunity. He makes opportunity, and then he reaches out and takes what is rightfully his!

The lesson, like many, was accompanied by pain. Maul had limped for a week afterwards, but only where Sidious could not see it.

Power. What did this wash out know of power? He hadn’t even made it to Jedi Knight.

"It's a tiny planet. Galactically insignificant. Yet it pours forth wealth into my hands. If you would only lose the tiresome rules of the Jedi, it would do the same for you. But no, Qui-Gon is too good. He is not tempted. He is never tempted."

"Bandomeer is not yours to own! You were always overconfident. You have gone too far

this time."

"No." Xanatos drew his lightsaber. "Now I have gone too far."

Maul cocked his head. He could feel the Darkside swirling around him, brushing his skin, searching for its place inside him. His body was too small to house much of it yet, but it was not he who called it, merely he who had a true hold of it. He who was its child.

“Those who accept the power of the dark side must also accept the challenge of holding on to it.” Maul startled. He didn’t recognize the voice of his memories. “By its very nature the dark side invites rivalry and strife. This is the greatest strength of the Sith: it culls the weak from our order. Yet this rivalry can also be our greatest weakness.”

Xanatos laughed again, breaking Maul away from his thoughts and the voice.

"You destroyed everything I loved," he accused, his lightsaber barely missing Jinn’s shoulder, so close it singed the fabric of his tunic. "You destroyed me that day, Qui-Gon. Yet I was reborn. Stronger, wiser. I have surpassed you."

Maul snorted, and started to leave. He decided he didn’t care about the rest of the fight. He needed to find Kenobi and he actually had a lead. He would come back and finish cleaning up Xanatos’ mess later.

Kill him, maybe. Offer Kenobi his head for recompense.

Well.

Maybe not that exactly. Kenobi could be squeamish,

"And where is your new apprentice?" Xanatos sneered.

Maul didn’t stick around to hear the rest of it. He knew the answers already. A deep sea mine. There were only a few close enough to the shore for a control freak like Xanatos to send Obi Wa- Kenobi to.

Maul did stop long enough to send the information to Jango. He figured he might like to know where he was going, and where Xanatos and Jinn currently were duking it out.

Meanwhile Maul found a small transport to take him out to see. He knocked the owner out cold, stashed his body, and stole the ship. He kept it low to the waves. In the darkness of the night any guards would be hard pressed to see him approach.

He wasn’t met with blasterfire when he stopped the transport underneath one of the high legs of the rig. Maul secured it and spidered up the sides until he was sneaking on board. His come flashed with an incoming message from Jango, one that he soundly ignored.

When he reached the top of his rig Maul pulled out his (finally finished) weapon.

Maul held what looked like a S-195 blaster pistol, with slightly longer than average barrels.

They made a perfectly functional blaster, with only slightly weaker bolts than a regular one would have.

Maul was still working on that.

It would work for this.

Carefully, he snuck into the mine.

He had to ride on top of the turbolift, out of sight of the hulking, but stupid guards. They would be easy to mind trick, but tricks only lasted so long and he had seen slave collars like the ones on the sentients he passed. Those would be rigged with explosives. He rather liked Kenobi with his head on his shoulders, thank you.

Once he was further down he could feel it.

Kenobi’s light.

Something was keeping it dim, but still there. A suppressant?

Xanatos was really getting annoying. Maul was killing him when they got back to the mainland.

If Jango didn’t beat him to it.

Maul should have answered him comm so he could call dibs.

Too late now.

He hopped off the turbolift when he reached the floor where Kenobi’s presence was the strongest. It was till a phantom thing compared to what it had been before, nevermind what it would be.

Maul kept his hood drawn firmly and made his way further inside.

Deep in the undersea caves the slaves were kept in bunks. There were no bars to keep them in place, for their collars and their emaciated state did that just fine by itself. Maul could tell at a glance that most of them were half starved, or more, and beaten on the regular.

The collars around their throats stood out over standard, tattered jumpsuits. The guards were lax beings, and with a simple command the two playing dice outside the bunks fell asleep.

Maul picked his way through the slaves.

It reeked of unwashed beings, blood, and sickness.

Maul found his way to Obi- Kenobi, who was resting uneasily beside a spindly limbed being. Phindian. Weak joints, and a particularly pronounced jugular. Maul considered fourteen ways to kill him before he turned to his target.

Maul tapped Kenobi lightly on the shoulder with his boot, startling the little Jedi awake. Maul touched his mind lightly, minding the darkness inside of him and keeping it careful. Just enough that Kenobi recognized him in his frightened, sleep addled state.

Blue eyes stared up at him, Kenobi’s mouth dropped open in shock.

“Maul?” he asked quietly. Hope trembled in his voice and Maul’s stomach twisted unpleasantly.

People weren’t supposed to feel hope around him. They were supposed to fear him! Maul scowled down at him and tossed his lightsaber at Kenobi’s gaping face.

Kenobi caught it on reflex alone, the weapon calling to him. It had felt utterly wrong in Maul’s calloused hands, his anger not mixing with the righteous light and the burning hope that lived inside Kenobi’s crystal.

Kenobi cradled it to his chest.

“This weapon is my life…” he whispered, a sentiment that was shared between Jedi and Sith alike.

“Then you can owe me twice,” Maul said derisively. “Let’s go. “

“I can’t!” Kenobi touched his collar. It was buzzing faintly with electricity. Maul scowled.

“Can’t you use the Force to turn it off?” Maul asked irritably.

Kenobi shook his head miserably. He was a sorry sight, his clothes tattered and, now that Maul was close enough to see, his back burned with familiar marks of electric whips.

Maul had a veritable tapestry of those same scars across his own back.

“They’ve cut me off. I can barely feel it anymore,” Kenobi’s voice cracked.

Maul winced in unwanted sympathy. He knew the feeling well. It was one of his masters favorite punishments.

Maul knelt before Kenobi and reached for his throat. The little Jedi twitched but didn’t fight against him. He tilted his chin to give Maul better access.

The metal was sturdy, it would be hard to cut through without killing Kenobi along with it, and the electric charge was near to the tiny explosive. Not small enough to blow through a wall, but it would do plenty of damage to soft human skin.

It would be easy to turn it off. Getting it off was another matter.

Not to mention the rest of the slaves that lay around them.

Maul looked down to find the phindian watching him through slitted eyes.

“...You’re not going to let me leave the rest of them here, are you?” Maul asked, exasperated.

Kenobi startled. “What?”

Maul pulled his hands away and stood up to brush off his cloak.

“Show me where they keep the spare parts for the equipment,” Maul ordered shortly. Kenobi frowned.

“I don’t know where those are.”

Maul gave him an unimpressed look. “Haven’t you ever escaped from a prison before?”

Kenobi frowned at him. “Why would I have had to do that?”

“... Jedi really don’t teach anything useful, do they?”

“Hey!”

“Obawan,” the phindian finally gave up his ruse and sat up. “Your friend will free us.”

Maul quirked a brow.

“Not so!” The phindian waved his long arms. “He will cause us trouble.”

“I’ll definitely cause you trouble if you don’t quiet down. Who knows here where the spare parts are kept?” Maul demanded shortly. He pulled his hand back to reveal the blaster holstered at his side. The phindian paled and Kenobi smacked Maul on the leg.

“Don’t threaten him! He’s my friend, Guerra!”

Maul rolled his eyes. “Then he should be helping. I won’t ask again.”

The phindian, Guerra, stood up reluctantly. He looked dead in the eyes. Yet, in the furthest depth, there was hope.

Maul bit back the urge to stomp it out. He needed this being’s help, for the time.

Guerra looked to the sleeping guards warily. Maul rolled his eyes. “They aren’t waking up soon. Get going.”

Other slaves stirred around them. Eyes watched them through hooded darkness. Maul breathed in the despair and fortified himself. It was going to be a long night.

Guerra lead him into the tunnels, down the hall to locked room of spare parts. It took Maul less than a minute to pick the locks. They were old school and not very advance to begin with.

Once inside he found a power pack for one of the big drills they used in lower levels, a wire coil, and disemboweled the locking mechanism for the doors. The circuit boards were kept carefully intact while he fetched a small tool box, conveniently equipped with a soldering iron, and set to work.He attached his wire coil to the capacitor for the door, and connected that to the big battery. While he was at it he found a heavy magnetic coupling splitter. He wished for Daleen. She’d already have the whole place turned on its head electronically.

With his girls, and his brothers, Maul could have done anything.

He would get to them soon enough.

“What are you doing?” Guerra asked nervously. “This is fun! Not so. I do not trust your friend, Obawan.”

“I’m making an EMP generator,” Maul said shortly.

Kenobi’s face split into a startled, hopeful smile. “You can do that? Where did you learn? Did Jango teach you?”

“Hmm? No. Now hold still. The collar’s going to tingle and then all the lights will go out. Stay close to me. Humans have terrible vision.”

“Hey!”

Maul ignored Kenobi’s indignation and pushed the ‘lock’ button. The door fizzled, the battering flickered faintly with electricity, and everything went dark.

Maul relished it.

“Let’s go get your friends, Kenobi.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Obi Wan stayed close to Maul as they prowled through the darkness.

He couldn’t understand how he could see so well, his gold eyes glowing faintly in the darkness like embers to an unseen fire. Maul was one mystery after another.

Obi Wan had thought him to be a Mandalorian, like Jango, but he wore no armor and he didn’t speak with the same accent. He fought viciously and without mercy when it was needed. Kenobi could not forget the grim comfort he had taken during their fight with the draigon’s to have someone as skilled and determined at Maul at his back while they battled off their death. His every shot was perfect.

Even before that, he’d felled two hutts in the span of a breath.

Maul was unlike anyone Obi Wan had ever met before.

Admittedly, he had mostly met Jedi. Obi Wan had never been out of the temple, and it showed sometimes now. In the temple he had never been hungry. In the temple he had never hurt so badly for so long.

Obi Wan swallowed those thoughts and followed Maul in the darkness. He could sense him through the Force, his presence dense and heavy. There was a gravity to Maul, in his sharp teeth and gleaming gaze. His ferocity was frightening, but as Maul had said, he did not allow his anger to control him.

He controlled it.

Obi Wan could not say the same thing.

It was his own temper that had resulted in him being sent away from the order, and his own impulsiveness that had lead him to leave behind the safety of Jango and Maul to investigate on his own. He just wanted so badly to impress Master Jinn he thought-

They would have come with him, he realized now.

Fett was a good man. Even if he was Mandalorian, and Obi Wan had only hear horror stories about them, he had held Obi Wan’s shoulder when he’d felt like he was drowning in his despair and spoke kindly to him when he didn’t have to. He offered to help with no chance of recompense.

And here Maul was, guiding him through darkness. Saving him.

Saving all of them.

Shame welled up in Obi Wan’s chest.

How could Obi Wan tell Maul that when he’d come to free him he’d been so relieved he barely thought of the other prisoners? He had thought only of the weight being lifted off himself, in the scant seconds before Maul brought up the idea of freeing everyone. How could he call himself a jedi when he was so self centered?

When he’d opened his eyes and found his friend looking down at him, half hidden in his familiar poncho, he’d been confused. But the Force whispered of Maul, of bright eyes and vicious determination, and he hadn’t been afraid for even a moment.

Maul was comfortable, in the same way a nexu would be to those familiar with it. He was dangerous to be certain, but he’d never hurt Obi Wan. He’d only ever helped him, from the moment they had met on the Monument, when he’d been thrown into Mauls arms.

Obi Wan grasped Maul’s poncho as he trailed after him. His other hand held his lightsaber.

“If you throw up, I don’t have anything to clean your mouth with,” was the only warning Obi Wan got when they returned to the slave bunks. Maul pulled a knife from his boot, the movement something Obi Wan felt more than saw, and slit the guads throats.

Obi Wan should have mourned their loss. Any good jedi would have.

But his back stung, and Guerra’s haunted words whispered through his mind, and the pain of the miners and the death that permeated the air choked down any grief he would have for the slavers. Obi Wan was sickened to realize he would have killed them too if he could have.

“The light, Little Jedi.”

Obi Wan, somewhere between grief-sick and warm whenever Maul called his that, lifted his saber and ignited it.

In the pale blue glow hallowed faces watched the three of them.

“We’re leaving,” was all he said.

“The collars,” started one slave, a human who had lost his eye fighting the other day.

“They’re off,” Maul said shortly. “And if you’re that worried, here,” he held up something shaped vaguely like a wrench. Obi Wan stayed still when Maul reached for his collar again. The soft leather of his gloves ran across Obi Wan’s throat before the wrench found its way across a seam he hadn’t noticed. There was a click and the collar fell off in two pieces.

Silence fell. Then, one by one, starting with Guerra, the rest of the slaves approached. Maul unlocked their collars. He set them all free.

“What is your name?” One of them asked at last, their voice hoarse and rough.

Obi Wan’s companion regarded him carefully.

“...Maul,” he said at length.

The word spread through the slaves in the whisper. Maul hunched his shoulders and shoved the wrench into a togruta’s hands.

“It’s a magnet lock,” he said gruffly. “Fit it around the edges.”

He stalked away, and was followed by the rest of the newly freed slaves.

A young twi’lek women, one scarred across her face, stopped them. There were tears in her eyes. A single one fell from the left and she wiped it away before touching it to Maul’s cheek. Maul twitched away from her, his hand flying to his blaster, but he didn’t draw.

“You have broken our chains,” she said quietly. “May water find you in the desert, and the sun find you in the snow.”

Obi Wan didn’t understand, and the look on Maul’s shadowed face said that he didn’t either, but he inclined his head all the same. For someone who boiled with anger all the time he was remarkably patient.

Obi Wan had never seen him take his temper out on someone who hadn’t wronged him first.

They make their way through the darkness. More than once did Maul had Obi Wan extinguish his saber before guards rounded the corner. In the shadows he draw his knife and snuffed their lives out. He didn’t fire his blaster once. It would have made too much noise, and given away his position.

Where had Maul come from, if Jango had not taught him these things?

The finally reached the surface. The clear air of the night blanketed the newly freed sentients.

There was no way to call for a ship to pick them up, but within an hour one came to investigate the silence from the mine. The Offworld insignia blazed on the side.

Obi Wan helped Maul take the ship by force. Together he guarded Maul with his ‘saber while Maul blasted through their attackers.

The climbed on boards.

It was a good sized ship, and once they were further in Obi Wan understood why.

The ship wasn’t just sent to investigate. It was sent to reinforce them. New slaves took up cages in the cargo hold, and across from them were exotic animals. There were monkey-lizards and glittering vulptex. He saw colorful kiros birds fluttering around one cage. Obi Wan found a tiny varactyl in a cage that squeaked at him when he came closer. It was no bigger than a tooka, and it payed through its cages, as if sensing safety from him.

Obi Wan broke the lock and took out the little lizard to cradle in his palm. He turn to ask Maul when he thought and paused.

Maul had stopped in front of a small crate where shadows moved within.

It took Obi Wan a minute to realize that the shadows were three slim, young creatures that hummed with the Force. Tails lashed through the crate and tiny clawed paws lashed out. Maul growled, something low in the back of his throat. Obi Wan felt it then. The hair on the back of his neck prickled with anger, hurt, sorrow and grief. It swelled the room before reached a crescendo and falling again.

The fighting from the animals was over.

Maul opened the crate and three small vornskr, two males and female with a chopped ear and a crooked tail, went tumbling out.

They circled Maul, rubbing their cheeks along his legs and chirping up at the startled looking boy.

The moment was ruined when a human woman came back from the front of the ship. The togruta with the locking device followed after her.

“We’re going back to the mainland,” the human said. “You should buckled in.”

“Thank you,” Obi Wan said with a short bow.

She nodded once at him and left.

Obi Wan looked Maul, who finally gave him a crooked, gap toothed grin.

“Through victory our chains are broken,” he said, the words slow and solemn despite his smile. There was something familiar to them, and the Force hummed its agreement.

Maul had set him free.

#Darth Maul #Maul #darth maul time travel #time travel #star wars time travel #obi wan kenobi #jango fett #qui gon jinn

9 notes · View notes