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celynsdream · 2 years

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Initiates | Wards

Below is the brainstorming I've created as to give more development for the Initiates of the Order of Jedi. Feel free to use in your writing, but please make sure to credit back to this post or tumblr. If not, I will not hesitate to remove all resources.

Overview:

A Jedi Initiate, Jedi Trainee, Youngling, or Ward referred to a Force-sensitive child who was undergoing the early stages of Jedi training or currently residing in the Créche, at a Jedi Academy. Initiates are found at early ages, typically a few months to up to three years, by Jedi Recruiters and Finders, such as in the case with Master Koon’s Finding of Padawan Tano and Master Kenobi, and are brought to the Coruscant Temple for initial placement and care.

Initiate Clans:

All Initates are placed into Clans within their third year of life, and placed into care of various selected Créchemasters until they become Padawans. It is typical for a Clan to remain close even throughout adulthood and Padawanship, interchanging Padawans for training, and relying on each other for missions over other Jedi. Below is a list of known, and current Initiate Clans:

Bear Clan

Bergruutfa Clan (Most librarians/archivists come from this Clan)

Boma Clan

Clawmouse Clan

Dragon Clan

Heliost Clan

Katarn Clan

Savrip Clan

Soaring Hawkbat Clan (Most pilots/Aces come from this Clan)

Squall Clan

Thranta Clan

Tra’cor Clan

Wuulf Clan

Vorpaak Clan (Notorious for producing the Disaster Crew)

Education/Training:

Once an Initiate is placed into their Clan, they started their education, typically around the age of five-six standard years. Those aged three-four years are introduced to ideas necessary for their future education, such as numbers and alphabet, and are more play-orientated than the older Initiates. They also start learning the basics of the Jedi Code and the Three Pillars of the Order between various games.

Initiates aged five-eight are considered Junior Initiates, and follow a set schedule, varying days based on Clan, but it rarely changes. Upon waking, the Initiates are led in morning exercises, including a fifteen-minute meditation session. In the mornings, Clans engage in Force studies, usually games meant to help them develop control, such as the “Feather Game”, or “Catch”, under the watchful eyes of their Créchemaster and Padawans doing Créche duty. Before lunch, the Initiates settle down for a fifteen minute meditation session, led by one of the Junior-Créchemasters. Around midday, the Initiates head to the refectory for lunch and story-time, usually about a Jedi of old, then shift into physical training under the watchful eyes of the Initiate Battlemaster, Jardin Eldil. They learn the basics of the six accepted forms of Lightsaber combat, followed by another fifteen-minute session of movement mediation. Once they return to their Clan-room, they engage in crafts or games for an hour, before they return to learning the history of the Order. Around five-six o’clock is dinner for the younger Initiates, then they return to their room to do one final relaxation meditation session, followed by a short story, then get tucked into their beds.

Initiates aged nine-twelve are considered Senior Initiates, and follow a little bit of a less intense schedule than the Juniors. In the mornings, they wake up on the call of an alarm clock, versus being individually woken by the Junior-Créchemasters, as the Junior-Initiates get. A Junior-Créchemaster leads them through morning exercises and meditation, then the Senior-Initiates head to their classrooms for history, mathematics, science, political sciences, including one elective class they choose. Around midday, like the junior-initiates, they head to the refectory for lunch, but while the juniors are having their story time, the seniors are working on their assignments from that morning. After lunch, they attend classes taught by the Initiate Battlemaster, switching over to actual lightsaber work over the six accepted forms, then doing a movement meditation session after their physical training. Once returning to their Clan-room, they help out with the care of the younger initiates because arts-and-crafts can stress anyone out, then finish up their assigned assignments from that day’s classes. Around six-seven o’clock is dinner for the Senior Initiates, then they join the younger initiates for their evening meditation, but while the juniors get tucked into beds, the seniors are given thirty minutes to do what they want before lights out.

At the age of twelve-thirteen is when things start to change for their schedules. The initiates turning twelve that year are given the date of their Gathering, then are permitted to attend classes and seminars in whatever order they want. There’s no set schedule for these initiates anymore, due to them preparing to take the Initiate Trials at the end of the year, hoping to move onto Padawanship. These Initiates spend most of their days studying to prepare for their Trials, knowing that their results will forecast their future path in the Jedi Order. Before these Initiates take their Trials, they participate in the Gathering, a ceremony that had been passed down through the Order for centuries. They are escorted by a Jedi of a higher rank, typically a Master or Senior-Padawan, and travel to Ilum, where they would undergo unofficial trials of trusting their instincts and overcoming inner and outer obstacles in search of a kyber crystal that is fully theirs, in both Force and physical being.

Wards:

Wards are Initiates that are not Force-Sensitive, but live in the Temple. They’re taught the same as the Initiates, usually coming from Corps families or those killed in action, or are even Temple-stork babies. However, the difference comes that when the senior-initiates shift over to preparing for their Trials, Wards change their focus to their future adulthood paths.

Wards are taught the Jedi traditions, and even as adults, they’re common sights at ceremonies all over the various Temples. Most of the staff, or senior members of various organizations, celebrities, radio hosts, etc, are Wards from various Temples, and sometimes… there can be a decade or two old rivalries between certain Wards that always lead to interesting meetings.

Wards filter into branches and careers all over the galaxy, and are certainly not held to the same behavioral standards/oaths of the Knighthood, so most Wards do end up having families throughout their lifetimes. The Jedi temples, all across the galaxy, are known to provide a safe place for children to grow up and learn and become strong good adult figures, even in war-torn environments, but the High Council strictly regulates how many Wards to Initiates are accepted each year, unless there’s a particularly good reasoning that the regulation limit won’t work.

The typical regulation numbers are 25-30 Wards, 30-50 Initiates plus their staff and instructors, at any one time.

Uniform:

The Initiates aged eighteen months or less wear cream-colored onesies, done in patterns to handle their developing forms. The amphibious babies wear waterproof cream-colored onesies, also to handle their developing forms.

The Initiates aged twenty months to eight years wear cream-colored tunics, brown leggings, and soft kidskin leather boots, with a brown leather chest harness for the Crèchemasters’ leash usage to clip onto.

The Initiates aged nine years to thirteen wear cream-colored tunics, brown leggings, brown leather boots, and a colored belt that corresponded with their future path.

Crèche Life:

The Crèche is the full name for the Initiate Wing, though it is more commonly referred as the Initiate Hall, and the term Crèche is used in reference to the nursery. In all Initiate rooms, except during nap times, the sound of cheerful voices and playful kid-voices can be heard from even outside the rooms. There’s always some sort of activity going on down in the Initiate Wing, which contributes to such a permanent joyful atmosphere for all those even walking past.

Caretakers/Instructors:

Crèchemasters:

Junior-Crèchemasters:

Instructors:

Trivia:

Jedi Councilor, and Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is the youngest known initiate to ever be brought to the Coruscant Temple. He was rescued from Stewjon by Councilor Plo Koon at the age of a month, and quickly enfolded into the Vorpaak Clan.

The most chaotic Clan in all of Crèche-history is the Vorpaak Clan, though they have produced some of the most skilled Jedi of the age. Notable members included Shadow Quinlan Vos, Ace Garen Muln, Healer Bant Eerin, Peacekeeper Reeft, and Knight-Ambassadors Luminara Unduli and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Temple-stork babies are those that were dropped off at the closest temple’s front door, much like the image of the stork bringing babies to their true families.

#sw_resources #sw_meta #sw_writing #jedi_culture

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ao3feed-obikin · 9 months

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Obi-Wan Kenobi and Little Padawan

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52754128 by GGGG23 AU where Anakin Skywalker didn't fall and the Jedi prevented the destruction of the Republic by switching off the Clones during their attack. However, before they managed to do so, many Jedi and younglings had been killed anyway. And because all of the Créche Masters died during that fateful night protecting children, the remaining Jedi – although most of them not equipped to deal with younglings – had to take care of the ones who survived. That’s how one 3-year-old ended up in the care of Master Obi-Wan Kenobi. The Jedi also revised the Code and because Anakin's attachment to Obi-Wan was one of the main reasons he didn't fall, their approach toward attachment became more lenient. Mostly hurt/comfort in the beginning and fluff in later chapters. Words: 5140, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Clone Wars (2003) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Original Child Character(s), Anakin Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Yoda (Star Wars) Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Original Child Character(s), Jedi Padawan Character(s) & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master Character(s) & Jedi Padawan Character(s), Jedi Master Character(s)/Jedi Padawan Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Jedi Children & Anakin Skywalker, Anakin Skywalker & Original Child Character(s) Additional Tags: Fluff, Padawans (Star Wars), Jedi Younglings (Star Wars), Jedi Initiates (Star Wars), Protective Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Crèche Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Temple Crèche on Coruscant (Star Wars), Order 66 Happened Differently (Star Wars), Post-Order 66 (Star Wars), Order 66 (Star Wars), Jedi Order Survives Order 66 (Star Wars), Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Ahsoka Tano Gets a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Gets a Hug, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Turn to the Dark Side, Anakin Skywalker Doesn't Kill Younglings, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gives a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gives Good Hugs, Children, Toddlers, Obi-Wan Kenobi Takes Care of People read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/52754128

#IFTTT #Obikin #AO3feed #Star Wars

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sshewonders · 2 years

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ACROSS THE STARS (04/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x fem!reader

summary: Nearly two years had passed since you arrived at the Jedi Temple. Your bond with Qui-gon's Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, became stronger but a challenge leaves you in confusion and sadness.

warning: The Council (as always), fluff, my knowledge of the jedi order, angst if you squint, blood and nightmares?

a/n: hello there! i've finally decided what will y/n look like! if you want to see it, just look at the main masterlist. anyway, thank you so much for the people who are following this crappy story! even though there's only five people who'd follow this, i'm always thankful. i love you <3

word count: 4k lmfao it took long, i know

(gif not mine but obi-wan is)

Two years ago, Jedi Master Qui-gon Jinn brought you in the Jedi Temple after you stole his lightsaber then there, in the deepest part of the forest of the planet Daith, he met you and discovered all about you; how strong you were with the force, how mischievous you are, just like him, and how you and his padawan's force bonded.

You were thankful that Qui-gon did that. And you were certainly thankful that you stole his lightsaber.

Exactly two years ago, you had become the council's favorite youngling as each of the members of the high council, watched each of your movements. They had decided to hide your personal information, with of course your permission, such as your real name and birth planet. They did not give you a surname, though. It was just Y/N, the name you had told Qui-gon when you met him, thenceforth, every Jedi in the temple called you that. You lived alongside with the other younglings in the Jedi Temple Créche for nine whole months before Mace Windu decided to move your chamber, near the chamber of the Jedi masters.

The council treated you with such care that they were even afraid of letting you go outside the temple and it had absolutely saddened you. You couldn't stand the council, they were being so protective to the point that it was sucking the life out of you.

And of course, Qui-gon didn't approve to it and told the council that they should allow you to be a normal child before going to face the challenges that'll happen in your future. Master Plo Koon was the very first one to agree on Qui-gon when he said that he'd always feel your sadness whenever he'd go to meditate with you.

You liked Master Plo Koon. He was rather a perfect Master that anyone could ever wish for. He was respected for his level-headed analysis of events and unflappable calm. He has a reputation for making simple, clear decisions based on his own sense of right and wrong, often disregarding any consequences that may have come with his decisions. Master Plo Koon definitely was, though, and he was also known for his incredible kindness to those around him.

Once, when he found you on the top of the temple: staring at the orange colored sun of Corustant with your knees on your chest, he knew how cruel of the council to not let you be a child just like the other children in the temple. So, instead of telling the council about how you feel, he had snuck you out of the temple by putting you on his back as he swiftly guided you out of the temple without anyone noticing it. He then brought you to a theater where you spent the rest of the evening without thinking what'll happen in the next day. And thankfully, only Master Yoda discovered it and hid it from the council after giving you and Master Plo a wink.

On your seventh birthday, Obi-Wan Kenobi brought you to the very center of the Corustant to where he had brought you after you successfully made your own force signature to wrap with him, with a gift on his hand. It was a kyber crystal that was carved out of a wood, a japor ivory wood. He had told you that he made it when he was young and now he'll past it onto you because he reminds you of him, he said. And from that day on, you wore the necklace around your neck but kept hidden underneath your inner tunic. Obi-Wan was always the one who'll volunteer for your meditation class with or without his Master's permission. You and Obi-Wan had a strong connection to each other that you would often talk within your minds without uttering a single word out of your mouth. And two months being with him, you had discovered something that can be frowned upon by Qui-gon: when Obi-Wan's in pain or feeling something, you'd feel it too.

And now, two years later, the strong bond never ceased. It had become your habit of talking with each other using your minds every single day and you'd always tell him how your day went on. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, would just tell you small details about what he and his Master's mission to keep your innocence. How in the name of maker would he tell a little girl about a bloody incidents? And that's why, Obi-Wan Kenobi kept it himself.

In your training, he's always right there with you whenever he and his Master doesn't have an assignment that was tasked to them. Obi-Wan explained everything you needed to know about wielding a lightsaber, though it's only the training sabers every younglings have, and fighting against a training remote. But everytime, you'd always find a difficulty welding your training saber but Obi-Wan had said that the training sabers were actual lightsabers that possessed a highly intensified electromagnetic containment field which was far more difficult to penetrate than that of a standard lightsaber.

Not long ago, he had taught you about the different abilities of the force. One was the force jump: an ability of the Force that allowed its user to leap huge distances. You had read it in the archives and knew that it's a Jedi Knight's level two of their learning and training so you had asked Obi-Wan why he knew that and he said: “I spent most of my time as a youngling in the archives, little rebel.”

It's funny, though, that Master Yoda allowed you to practice force jump even though he knew better. You were the youngest youngling that joined the temple and your créchemates were far more older than you. They were at least two or three years older than you.

And now, it's the time where you and your créchemates are going to find your own kyber crystal to build your own lightsaber. You were both excited and nervous. Excited because you wouldn't use the training sabers anymore and will have your own but nervous because you always wondered what color you'd get. So, instead of meditating to calm your nerves, you went to Qui-gon, who was in the garden ── talking with Obi-Wan.

“Qui-gon!” You called, running towards them and stopped in front of them, you had refused to call him Master as what Qui-gon said that it's fine to call him by his name. Obi-Wan offered you a smile but your focus were on Qui-gon.

“Yes, young one?” Qui-gon wondered, looking down at you.

“We're going to Ilum today and we're going to find our own kyber crystal,” you trailed off as Qui-gon and Obi-Wan nodded, “I'm nervous about what'll be the color of my lightsaber and what if I won't find my own crystal?”

Qui-gon gave you a soft smile, kneeling down at your height and gripped your shoulders, softly. “Whatever color you'll get, it will not change you, young one. Don't be nervous, keep calm. You're strong with the force, be one with the force to find yourself and with that, you'll find your own kyber crystal.”

You nodded with a soft smile before wrapping your arms around his neck and engulfed him with a hug. Qui-gon chuckled and looked up at his own Padawan who smiled back at him. “Thank you, Qui-gon.”

“Nothing I wouldn't do for you, young one.” Qui-gon said before standing up, breaking your warm hug. “Now, I need you to look after and take yourself, can you do that?”

There was a hint of sadness in his voice and his face clouded with a mixture of contentment and sadness. You and Obi-Wan looked at each other: mirroring the confused look at sudden words of Qui-gon.

“Of course,” you reluctantly replied. “Where are you going, anyway?” You asked, looking at the bags draped over Obi-Wan's shoulders.

Qui-gon and Obi-Wan exchanged looks. The Jedi Master looked at you. “We were tasked to be an ambassador to seek a peaceful negotiation, young one,” he said, hiding most of the informations.

“When will you be back?”

“We'll be back before you know it, little rebel,” answered Obi-Wan, winking at you.

You nodded. “Fine,” you said as both men smiled at you, “Be safe, though. I've been having these nightmares for a few days now,” you added with a shrug.

Qui-gon and Obi-Wan exchanged looks of worries. “Could you describe it, young one?” Qui-gon asked.

“Red and gold eyed man?” You said, looking at the two with a confused look. “What? What is it?”

Qui-gon smiled. “Nothing to worry, young one.”

Obi-Wan knelt down in front of you and poked your nose, “Boop,” he said and you giggled. “Don't do anything stupid, alright? I will not be around to look after you, little rebel.” Obi-Wan said softly.

You smirked, quirking an eyebrow. “No promises,” you said as Obi-Wan smiled brightly. “Besides, Quinlan will be here. He'll keep me company.”

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, he'll definitely look after you,” he said sarcastically. “Because the last time he'd watched you, you got a bruise on your knees and is now a healing scar.”

“Because, Quinlan said I could drive a single speeder!” You defended. “Besides, the scar looks awesome! It's like a thunder bolt!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Obi-Wan nodded playfully, “Promise me you won't get yourself hurt this time?”

“No promises.” You winked at him as he winked back.

“That's my little rebel.” Obi-Wan proudly said, poking your nose one last time, “Boop.”

And you did the same to him, twice, and said, “Boop, boop.”

Obi-Wan chuckled before standing up, turning to his Master. “I should get on board, Master. I'll wait for you.” Obi-Wan said, walking away from you two.

“I've never seen him act like that,” Qui-gon exclaimed, looking at the the figure of his Padawan walking towards their ship.

“You've known him for what? Years? And you still don't know him?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest in disbelief.

“That's not what I meant, young one. I know my Padawan like tha back of my hand.” Qui-gon chuckled, shaking his head, then his smile faltered. “And yet, I feel like there's something more of him that I had yet to know.”

You smiled softly at him. “Obi-wan is intelligent and thoughtful, but impish and often uses his intellect to form sarcastic quips. He doesn't fancy flying, though I considered him an accomplished pilot.”

“That's what──”

You interrupted Qui-gon, “That was his outside character. That's what everyone else sees in him, including you, Qui-gon.”

Qui-gon, interested, quirked an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

You sighed heavily. “If you'd spent time knowing him, you'd know him as a rather calm, sweet, and not afraid to put face his problems. Yes, he is a bit hard-headed, and often takes the harder of two paths just for the thrill of it. But when it comes down to the people he...” You stopped. You couldn't say the word because you couldn't find the right word to say. “I think you're going to be late.” You said, slowly walking backwards. “Goodbye, Qui-gon. May the force be with you.”

Though hesitant and wanted to hear your intelligent words, Qui-gon nodded. “And may the force be with you, too, Y/N.”

After eating lunch and securing that you and your créchemates were ready for the trip, Master Yoda gathered everyone in the main hangar then watched every youngling enter the ship. However, you had discovered that Quinlan only left a note saying: “Good luck for the lightsaber hunting, squirt.” And found out that he, too, was sent on a mission to Tatooine. And yes, you did not find it funny when he had said the night before that he'd come with you.

Looking around, you saw everyone with their friends talking with each other. You, on the other hand, only had Obi-Wan, Quinlan and a few Padawans that aged the same as Obi-Wan, to be your friends.

So, you had decided to kill your time by meditating, clearing your mind to ease your nerves. Then, you felt another familiar presence joined you, meditating as well.

You know that presence, very well. Without opening an eye you smiled, “Hello, Master Plo Koon.”

“Hello, Initiate Y/N.” Plo Koon greeted back.

“I thought you wouldn't be able join us because of your mission, Master?” You asked, recalling the day before as he said that ge wouldn't be able to join you because of his mission in the outer rim.

“Oh, and miss the crystal hunting of my favorite youngling? No, I don't think I will.”

Minutes later, the pilot landed the ship onto the snowy ground. You had wore your thick clothes as what Master Yoda said that cold and snow should be expected in the planet Ilum. Master Shaak Ti and Master Plo Koon lead the group of yours outside as both Yoda and Kit Fisto decided to stay in the ship.

When the cold wind began to nip at your face, you hugged your clothes tighter, walking behind Master Plo Koon. The other older younglings had told you that you should be in the front seeing thet you were the youngest of them all and should be kept safe if anything were to happen, and you flushed at the kind thought of them.

You and your créchemates stopped walking in the middle of the circular mark. Confused, you and your créchemates looked at the two Jedi Masters for an answer, but instead of giving all of you an answer, they simply took a step back and stood beside each other then nodded once.

“Um, so, what are we going to do, now?” One of your créchemates named Cassius, a human just like you, asked. Yeah, he was the one whom you made cry and he ran out of the cantina.

“Oh, I'm freezing.” Another one of your créchemates, a bothan boy named Vak, said.

“Yeah, no kark, Vak. We all do.” Cassius replied, rolling his eyes.

As your créchemates began to talk with each other, suggesting what should they do ── you, on the other hand, stared at the giant stone cave before you. Then, you heard it:

Luna.... Luna.... Luna.... A disembodied, breathy voice of a woman called you.

You looked around and saw that none of your créchemates, not even the two Jedi Masters, had heard it except for you. Head tilting, you looked back at the cave with curiosity.

You can hear me. It's all right, Y/N. Come. Come. The woman said once again but this time, it was much clearer and eager. “Use the force.”

Bringing your right hand over your face, you looked at it before looking at the cave, then looked back at your hand again. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes as you outstretched your hand, then used all your might using the force.

“Might as well eat some snow ──”

Plo Koon and Shaak Ti interrupted Cassius, “Hush, Initiate Vekarr,” said the latter while the first one said, “Focus on the force, younglings.”

A rumbling sound from the cave caught everyone's attention and as they all turned to see it, they saw you in the front of the cave with your hand in the air as you used the force. When the stone grinds against another stone, you doubled up the strength of the force with a grunt, and when you opened your eyes, the stone moved and opened.

With a sigh of relief, you smiled and turned around only to see the surprised expression of your créchemates and the two Jedi Masters.

“I know that punch I got from you, two years ago, was worth it,” mumbled Cassius with wide eyes.

All of you entered the cave and was met by a dark room. There was no light at all and the silence was giving you a bad feeling.

Plo Koon stood in front, looking around, then back at you and your créchemates. “Allow the force to guide you and you will find the crystal that you're looking for. The crystal will call you but it won't give an easy challenge for you to take.” Plo Koon said.

“How much time do we have, Masters?” Cassius asked eagerly.

“Once you found your crystal, do not linger around and be quick to return here. As the daylight ends, the door will freeze again and you will be trapped here.” Shaak Ti warned.

You and your créchemates swallowed. Anxiety creeped into each of you and the thought of not finding your own kyber crystal at the right time.

“Do not take the crystal that doesn't call you.” Shaak Ti added.

It happened so fast, you ran away as soon as Shaak Ti ended her speech, leaving everyone behind. You allowed the force to guide you, as what Plo Koon had said, and you found yourself in a dimly narrow part of the cave. You began to doubt yourself whether you were in the right place but the Force reassured you by dancing around you, allowing your mind only to focus on the crystal you were looking. On the smaller part of the cave, where you had to lower your head, you entered it and was met by the two kyber crystals glowing brightly in the dark. But, you wondered why both crystal were calling out for you. Had you missed something Plo Koon and Shaak Ti said? Or had you missed something in the archives that should read about?

The right crystal glowed brighter than the left crystal. You swore you had seen it glow yellow while the left one glowed red for a second, had you not blink.

Hear me... Hear me... Luna. Come and get me. The right crystal called to you, softly.

Take the path where your heart desires, Y/N. Come and get me. The left crystal said, almost begging.

You looked at the right one and thought, ‘Why does this crystal know my birth name?’ then you looked at the left one, ‘I could ask the same question?’

“Y/N.”

Turning sharply around, you clutched your chest in surprise and saw Qui-gon standing in front of you, frowning. “You belong to the dark side!” Qui-gon yelled, making you jump in surprise, then he vanished into thin air.

“I- , what? I am not!” You exclaimed and frightened, you took a step back only to be collided with someone's chest. When you turn around, you couldn't help but to scream in surprise and tears started to form in your eyes at the sight playing before you.

Obi-Wan stood in front of you, blood all over his tunic and was holding his blue lightsaber in his right hand. Blood dripping down the side of his head, he looked at you and clenched his jaw. “Y-you did th-this to me,” he said, blood coming out of his mouth as he said each word.

“No, no, no!” You cried, shaking your head in disbelief, slowly taking a step back.

“You killed me!” Obi-Wan yelled, raising his lightsaber to strike at you but stopped when a menacing sound of a lightsaber plunged into his back, then the tip of the glowing red lightsaber was seen on his chest. Then, his lifeless body dropped on the ground.

“No!” You yelled, crying at the dead body of Obi-Wan on the ground.

“Pathetic, isn't it?”

You stopped crying when you heard the voice. It was your own voice. More mature, stronger and menacing. Heart pounding hard, you looked up to see a hooded older figure of you. Though you couldn't see the face, the golden eyes clearly made you stood still as the older you, twisted the red lightsaber as though it was some kind of a toy.

“You see, Y/N...” the older you trailed off, then started ti circle you around like what a predator does its victim. And all you could do was to stare down at the dead body of Obi-Wan. “We don't belong in this pathetic world. Light side? Tsk.”

Then, the older you stopped in front of you, looking down. “You're, we are, more powerful than any Jedi could ever be. And if you embraces the dark side ──”

You interrupted her. “I would never!”

Older Y/N let out a manically laugh. “Oh, Really? We'll see about that, my love. But for now, I'll let you have fun with your beloved Obi-Wan,” she said with an evil smile before it faltered, “Oh wait, he's dead!”

“This- this isn't real,” you mumbled to yourself and looked around. “This is not real! It's just a test from the kyber crystal! This is not real!”

Older Y/N tilted her head, the very same thing you do whenever you're asking or curious. “Is it, though? Do you want to see the reality?”

Suddenly, you were not in the cave anymore but in a room. An all white colored room that only the...the blood stained mirror in front of you was the only thing that has a color. In the reflection, you saw yourself. Terrified, frightened, afraid. It was you. But then, your own reflection suddenly vanished as the older Y/N took over. She was copying your movements, though, the evil smirk was still shown on her face.

“The time will come, Y/N,” older Y/N trailed off, “Everyone you cared deeply will throw you away just like your parents did,” when those last words came out of her mouth, a single tear rolled down onto your tear strained cheeks. “Oh, you didn't know?”

You gathered the courage to ask, “Know what?”

Older Y/N smirked. “The reason why your mum and dad and perhaps will be the reason why everyone you care will leave you is because you are...”

Gritting your teeth, you punched the mirror and gou watched as it broke. Older Y/N's reflection can still be clearly seen despite the shattered glass.

“Dangerous.”

#star wars #ewan mcgregor #star wars imagine #obi wan kenobi #qui gon and obi wan #obi wan angst #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan spoilers

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maxkillertart · 3 years

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i forgot 2 do this for sw culture week but im gonna yell about languages

it makes no logical sense for humans within the jedi temple (i'm not accounting for aliens, as they may have different biological factors playing into it) to have different accents.

if you took a Créche of let's say, 10 younglings, ages 3 to 5, all of them speaking a different language, by the time they became padawans, they all shouldve adopted a "Jedi Temple" accent. it's only logical, considering all the jedi have been raised in the same place for thousands of years. generation after generation, most of the human jedi should speak the same form of Basic.

so heres my headcanons for Human Accents if that were true:

the Coruscanti Accent is varied between the levels of Coruscant. it's huge, so there's gonna be all sorts of languages and such, but i'm referring to Human Coruscanti Basic.

There's two I can think of right now, High Corscanti, which is a lot like like the (now pretty much extinct) TransAtlanic Accent with stronger traces if of British. it's used by people on the upper levels, who tend to be politicians or upper class business people, aka, The Rich.

Then there's Inner Coruscanti, which sounds a lot like a standard American accent. this one's varied within itself, as i think Humans who grow up in sectors of coruscant with a majority alien population may pick up their alien dialects or accents. this one's harder to pin down. it's used in the lower levels of coruscant and is thought of as a very informal dialect.

then there's my more canon-divergent idea of the MidRim Accent, which tends to sound like something between many different american accents and a mexican-english accent. depending on the planet and native species, the humans may adopt new words from other languages.

The Jedi Temple Accent is what we would know as British. of course, like real british accents, there's a lot of variety within it. i think some human younglings even end up mixing it with other accents depending on their Crechemates' or Creche Master's species (such as a mostly Twi'lek Creche having a Human who speaks in a faux Twi'lek accent, aka french)

Anakin got a lot of "why do you talk like that?" from other younglings growing up. he's got what many call a "Outer Rim Accent" when he's young. an Outer Rim Accent uses a lot of Huttese words and phrases, with a lot of rising inflections at the ends of sentences. this changes as he gets older, and he adopts parts of the Jedi Temple Accent and the Coruscanti Accent, and ends up with a "Trans-Galactic Accent" that sounds a little funky, with a mostly monotone form of speaking minus strange inflection patterns on certain words.

Padme has a High Coruscanti accent, despite being from Naboo, mostly because she was trained in Politics from a young age, and was quickly taught to speak in a way more similar to that of the people of Coruscant.

#star wars #swcultureweek #linguistics #sorry this is late lmao #long post

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jaigeye · 2 years

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all the other Jedi are having deep meaningful disputes about what they should do about the war. meanwhile the raucous tune of Cha Cha Slide is echoing through the temple halls from the créche where Bernie and the younglings are jamming out

#bernardeau namya

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thechaoticfanartist · 2 years

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How old is Grim when she joins the order? I’m trying to figure out if she knows my oc Anaata, because she works in the crèche <3

Grim's 14 when she joins the Jedi Order because she ended up appearing in Star Wars in the beginning of The Clone Wars. So probably not unfortunately, however I do like to imagine Grim sometimes goes to the créche to spend some time with the younglings or Obi-Wan sends her there so she can learn something

#grim kennet

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Secretly married obiwan x quinlan

(thank you all so much for your patience on this one! still figuring out my routine around my family and who i am as a person, but prompts are back to sunday and monday uploads!

i guess i just like the idea of quinlan and obi-wan gettin’ hitched really young? it certainly sounds like smth quinlan would do. HOWEVER can you just imagine them not getting into a relationship until the clone wars? (ノ*´◡`) maybe they’ve been dancing around it since they were padawans and finally decide to just say fuck it like anidala.

that is not this story.)

The greatest injustice of it all is that Quinlan and Master Tholme had just left the Temple when the council had sent him and Qui-Gon to Melida/Daan, just as Quinlan had not been there when Obi-Wan had been sent to the Agricorp. Quinlan had almost strangled him for that, when he’d shown back up from Bandomeer trailing behind his new master, and, honestly, Obi-Wan hadn’t blamed him.

When the contingent of Jedi and their padawans arrive in the capital city of Zehava to help negotiate with Neild and the Young, Quinlan hugs him instead.

And Obi-Wan hasn’t eaten properly in weeks, he’s been sleeping in the sewers, and Cerasi’s blood is still caked under his fingernails, and Quinlan nearly knocks him over with the force of their collision. He wraps Obi-Wan up so tight it almost feels like they’d never even left the créche — he’s always felt more like home than the Temple, anyways.

“Let’s not do that again,” Quinlan says, surprisingly in control of his voice for how wrecked he’d sounded after Bandomeer.

With shaking hands, Obi-Wan hugs him back, twisting his fingers into the back of Quinlan’s robes until he can’t feel them anymore. “I’ll say goodbye properly, next time,” he promises hoarsely, feeling Master Qui-Gon prod at his mind in concern before Master Tholme leads him away.

Quinlan makes a distressed noise and hugs him tighter. “Or you could stop kriffing almost getting killed every mission, yeah? I swear by the Maker that if Master Yoda has to sit me down one more time to ‘break the news’ to me that you've gone awol, I’m going to throw you into a sarlacc.”

Obi-Wan does suppose it’s a little unfair to do this to his friends nearly every time he leaves the Temple, but with a galaxy so big and so full of need, he knows he can’t promise that.

So he presses his forehead into Quinlan’s collarbone, releasing his hands just long enough to tuck himself into Quinlan’s robes instead, and nods against him anyways. “You’d have to find a sarlacc first, Quin,” he says, like making a joke of it will excuse that he’d almost gone and left Quinlan alone again.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just stick you on a desert planet, and with your luck, the sarlacc will find you.”

The greatest injustice of it all is that Obi-Wan knows before Qui-Gon even opens his mouth what he’s going to say. No one ever looks at someone like that with good news.

They excuse him from his last lesson so he can find a private meditation room to process, but Obi-Wan goes to Master Tholme’s apartment instead. He leaves the bedroom doors closed, the quartermaster will send someone to sort through their belongings later, and he settles on Quinlan’s meditation stool in the main room. He knows Quinlan has more belongings than is typically appropriate of a Jedi, but Tholme keeps the living spaces clean and bare, neutral colours blurring together until the white walls stare back at Obi-Wan in accusation.

He should have known he wouldn’t be able to meditate, anyways.

After Qui-Gon goes to bed, leaving Obi-Wan with murmured words of assurance and a ruffle of his hair, Obi-Wan slips out of their quarters in his darkest robes. He meets Luminara and Bant in the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and they know it’s impossible that their little escapade has gone completely unnoticed, but no one stops them from winding through the different fountains until they reach the one modeled to resemble a spring on Kiffu. None of them had ever been to Quinlan’s home planet, but Obi-Wan had come here often with him even in their créche days, and dropping to sit in the yellow dirt doesn’t hurt as much as he thought it would.

Luminara sets a simple clay incense burner on the edge of the fountain wall, lighting it as Bant lays out a small offering plate with Quinlan’s favourite sweetcake; they don’t make Obi-Wan help as they go about fixing an altar with little bits from all their cultures, the water-filled quiet between them heavier so heavy it reminds him of those nights on Melida/Daan.

“Did—” Obi-Wan swallows even though his mouth is dry. “Did you all do this for me, before?”

His friends exchange a look before nodding. “Both times,” Bant says softly, lighting the last candle before joining him on the ground and for once not worrying about laying out a blanket first.

“Quinlan almost didn’t come to the second one,” Luminara admits, standing over the altar with her eyes closed as she breathes in the incense.

Obi-Wan simply nods, because that does sound like Quinlan, and he feels horrid all over again for making Quinlan go through this, twice. Inhaling a sigh, Obi-Wan finds the holodisk hidden away in his robes and sets it next to the incense.

None of them can bear to turn it on.

The greatest injustice of it all is that, for some reason, Master Tholme did not contact the Temple before hitching a ride back from the moon where the unhappy locals had bombed their ship. And Obi-Wan knows Master Tholme didn’t tell the council they were in fact alive, because then the council would have told Obi-Wan.

He feels it the moment their ship docks, Quinlan’s presence flooding his mind until his fingers tingle with it, and he shoots to his feet.

The class of senior padawans stare at him in surprise, and Master Prweex stops mid-lecture, chirping in concer. “Is everything alright, Padawan Kenobi?”

Breath caught somewhere in his throat, Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, and instead scrambles from the classroom, opening the door with the Force before he can slam into it.

Despite popular superstition, Jedi cannot teleport, but Obi-Wan honestly couldn’t say how he made it from the lesson halls to one of the main hangars, where a small group of Jedi masters stand next to a shamble of a ship that spews smoke from several panels. And, there, Master Tholme looking ragged and tired, robes still stained from the explosion and with a cast on his right arm, but Obi-Wan’s eyes snap immediately to the padawan on his side.

Quinlan is a little worse for wear, and his braids hang around his shoulders instead of pulled up, not that Obi-Wan cares as he sprints the last few yards and launches himself at his friend. The masters step cleanly out of the way, likely having sensed his approach from a few hallways away, but Quinlan clearly hadn’t, yelping as he stumbles to catch him. It isn’t until then that Obi-Wan can accept that, yes, he had mourned him, but for some reason the Force had decided “not yet”.

“Obes?” Quinlan asks softly when Obi-Wan doesn’t pull his head away from his chest.

“Hmm,” Master Rancisis chuckles, the sound edged in saddness. “Perhaps Kenobi needs a moment, Padawan Vos; it has been a long few weeks in your absence.”

And Obi-Wan is more than content to stay there the rest of the day, even though Quinlan smells like he hasn’t bathed in a week – and he probably hadn’t. Quinlan still hugs him back and bleeds worry into the Force, as Master Tholme gently runs a hand over the back of Obi-Wan’s head and sighs.

“I know what Melida/Daan did to my padawan, so I can imagine what you’ve been through the last few weeks.” When Obi-Wan still doesn’t pull away, he continues, “You know, now that I think about it, during their clan wars the Stewjoni had a special marriage rite, when one thought dead returned to them.”

“Master?” Quinlan asks in confusion, but Obi-Wan grips his robes tighter. He does remember Master Nu mentioning something...

Master Tholme laughs, only a little rough, and steps away to join the other masters who have started slowly making their way from the hangar. “I suppose I thought it funny, padawan,” he says, “that, if I recall the ceremony correctly, you’re both halfway there already. You will meet me in the Halls of Healing when you’re ready? I’d like to get the cut of yours looked at.”

“Of course, master. Gimme a few minutes.”

“Of course, padawan.”

Tholme sometimes did that, dropped little bits of trivia any time something jogged his memory, and he didn’t often mean anything by it; even with this in mind, Obi-Wan can’t help but hope.

Quinlan waits until the masters’ footsteps recede, before gently tugging on Obi-Wan’s nerftail until he looks up. “I’ve got an idea,” he says with a roguish grin, and Obi-Wan is young and stupid and scared, and knows exactly what he’s planning.

“You ready?”

“This is probably illegal, Quinlan.”

“Not according to Master Nu, it isn’t.”

“Well, I’m probably going to Stewjoni hell anyways, I guess.”

“Before we do this, I need you to promise me something, Obi-Wan.”

“...”

“We can’t let this get in the way, we can’t... We’re almost knights, Obi, we’ve worked too hard to lose that now. We’ll always have to come second to the Order, you understand that, right?”

“Quinlan Vos, are you backing out on me? This was your idea.”

“And you agreed! Stop laughing, I’m serious.”

“I know you are, Quin. I’m somehow more ready now than I was ten minutes ago.”

“Good. Because you know I would follow you anywhere.”

“And I would follow you into this.”

“Good. Now shut up and light the candle.”

It’s Kit that brings Obi-Wan the datapad with all the forms for his induction onto the council, along with advice and a smile that makes Obi-Wan think maybe accepting the position had not been a mistake.

Unlike either his master or his own padawan, Obi-Wan is efficient with his paperwork, he knows the quicker he gets it done, the more time he can spend not doing paperwork, just as he knows that to be thorough the first time is to avoid having to do it a second.

Only one question on the forms gives him pause:

Is the inductee married in any culture(s)’s customs, accidental or not?

Well, it had been fifteen years since Quinlan had knotted a scrap of his own robes around Obi-Wan’s wrist, as Obi-Wan had done the same, and the Jedi Order is not made of fools, so he checkmarks the Yes box and adds Stewjoni below it, because he can’t imagine that at least the masters haven’t noticed by now.

(He would come to find that, no, they had not.)

i got a little carried away with this one, and didn’t entirely follow the prompt oops

#quinobi #quinlan/obi wan #prequel trilogy #au #secretly married au #i don't.... hate how this came out #obi wan kenobi #quinlan vos #tholme #qui gon jinn #crispy writes #fanfiction #prompt #prompt fill #ask #anon #ask box is always open!#angst with a happy ending #obiquin

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revenant-lineage · 2 years

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fun fact: the one trait in common that bernie, leonie, and lock all share is their love of dancing. lock never learned on kamino but it's a great outlet. bernie taught leonie, just like he taught all the other younglings in the créche, because what is a lightsaber duel if not a form of dance? so when the three of them meet and actually work together, in the small moments in between the battles, when they're in camps together or enjoying rare downtime... somebody's always going to start playing some music. usually leonie.

when Bernie and Lock secretly eloped, they returned to camp that evening and, under the guise of celebrating their most recent victory, threw a little party in camp. everyone danced, including the other jedi present. it was wonderful, if bittersweet, to be able to celebrate with their family even if they couldn't tell them honestly why.

#bernie and lock #revenant lineage

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cosmik-homo · 3 years

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New Nawah content I'm not sure if I should make canon for em or not: their second middling attempt at the Trials was right around the first months of the clone wars, and while it may not have been said outright- or maybe it was, the council and the code care about honesty and integrity- part of the reason they were nudged towards joining the service corps is so their master could be more focused on the war rather then teaching and preparing them specially. After a few weeks he was assigned a new Padawan and they fought together till the end of the war. Nawah is trying to accept the situation and move on, and they're happier in the créche with the kids, more then they were on long battlefield weeks, but they still harbor some resentment for essentially being sidelined and replaced- both resentment towards their master, which is complicated by the natural feelings of love and respect, and ends up closer to abandonment tham anger, but also towards the New Favorite Child, especially their closeness with Nawah's former peers and with the cones- both their regiment but just, clones in general, cuz Nawah has been distanced from the war effort and that aspect of Jedi life that has become central during the clone wars.

#Flunking comes with baggage! when you suddenly militarize what was an educational system and a community?? you get BAGGAGE #star wars oc tag #nawah

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bornesorrow · 3 years

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to touch the force meant to send cascades of fire down one’s veins, the aftermath of deaths unmeasurable, more reverberating each day. not since the babes so carefully wrapped against her chest screamed their first breaths had she more than brushed against it, shielding the pair against the trauma. but not herself. for the first time since the créche, she sobbed herself to sleep each night upon the barely legal passenger ship, sound muffled by her fist, containing the emotions behind a durasteel wall lest they wake the twins.

the wounds upon her arms still healed, burns which threatened to fester if she was not diligent. her body ached, screaming for rest after repeated ordeals. and her spirit weighed under the losses, the betrayals, the life now utterly out of reach.

every gram of her being mourned him.

not for one moment did she believe she would stumble across anyone so quickly, let alone anyone she held even semi close to her heart. but the flash of a ginger beard, eyes saddened from within as deeply as her own was unmistakable. weaving through the market crowds, she nearly believed him lost... until she whirled about a corner and practically straight into a waiting kenobi.

the edge of a scarf dropped from her features, relief, even tears pooling in her gaze, hands returning to cradling two tiny heads nearer. ❝ you survived... ❞

@dutyfcrged liked for a jedi!padmé starter

#dutyfcrged #· replies ╱ debates on the senate floor.#· arc ╱ the inherent tragedy of peacekeepers mutated into warriors.#:))))))

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irrfahrer · 3 years

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Actually!! Pretty and soft ball of fur, what do you think of the grey jedi? Do you feel they succeed in their synthesis of sith and jedi techniques and thought, or do you feel they have merely achieved an analysis in the physics sense, that is to say an atomization of two differing ideologies into a whole which will never be able to work long term as the two extremes are too diametrically opposed to ever be morphed together in such a way?

Grinning Ziv fluffed the fur on her cheek, her tail wagging as if she was a happy pup: "Finally someone with good kriffing taste!"

Happily and content she gave the following question a bit more attention, before she eventually understood and her grin dropped off her soft, fluffy face like a mask. "What the Kriff is a Grey Jedi? Like, hey, I know what a Grey Jedi is, I read those krififng steamy Jedi romance novellas everytime I need to fall asleep, but do you actually think that is a kriffing thing? There are no grey Jedi- there are kriffing Jedi that are part of the Order and those who had been teached in the Order but had left it, but still follow the teachings. And then there are Sith and all the other little krififng groups of Force-Users scattered around in the kriffing galaxy, but if you want to be a jedi, you will have to follow that kriffing philosophy and that philosophy is the simple kriffing manner to not be a kriffing asshole and be a decent person to help other people while also making sure that you are healthy yourself in body and mind. Beeing a Jeid means to serve people and if you are not able to do that you are very welcome to leave, thank you for trying. You can not be selfless and kriffing selfish. Like, its not kriffing possible, its-" Ziv let go of a deep breath, huffed, breathed in again, smoothed her as pale a ssilver whiskers, held her paws in a triangle before herself before coninueing with a quiet harrumph:

"You do not just kriffing stumble into the kriffing dark side, scratch your knee open and than stand up again as if nothing the Kriff had happned- it needs a kriffing willing jump, it needs kriffing hard work. You can not stand and fall in the same time for Kriffs sake, the Force is not a Schrödingers-Loth-Cat! It needs the actual kriffing thought to forsake everything you know is good and just to do something you know is against that- its not just letting go, you can let go in the force and shatter a few scuttles and teacups, believe me, I grew up in the Temples Créche, if you want to know how letting go in the Force looks like, watch the toddlers five minutes before mealtime or when its kriffing vegetable day for the poor kriffers that are omnivores. Like - thats normal, thats healthy, and when you grow up you learn to control yourself and when you have to let out the emotions you go for a kriffing sprint from the highest point of the temple until down to the catacomb while screaming bloody murder, or go meditating, or throw around a few teacups- and done, you let go of your own emotions and your mind is free for some little talk about what had been going on in your head to keep your mind healthy. Even after that you are a Jedi, a SIth however does not let it out, they krififng hold it like a little, ugly pet. So nah, there is no inbetween of beeing a well-adjusted person who is well aware that they could rip appart everything around them with their thoughts and chose to stay calm, take a step back and choses to calm down before they act so they do not hurt anyone, and someone who just choses, willingly choses, to be that nasty kriffer who decides to not look after other people and instead just kriffing rips apapart anyone and then complains that people did not warned them that letting go as someone who is able to rip apart everything around them with a mere kriffing thought of any restraints would hurt people when this is what they had willingly decided to do and of course it is never their fault because if it would be their fault they would need to face the fact that they knew kriffng better, like KRIFF, this is so stupid."

#headcanon #GREY JEDI DO NOT EXIST #irrfahrer #Ziv Odiz' zee

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ao3feed-obikin · 9 months

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Obi-Wan Kenobi and Little Padawan

#IFTTT #Obikin #AO3feed #Star Wars

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dreaminghour · 3 years

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Star Wars OC Ship Week

Eyaf is a lilac Twi'lek Jedi. She first appeared in The Calling. You can also read about Master Eyaf meeting youngling Obi-Wan. Or about youngling Eyaf meeting Padawan Qui-Gon.

Last I did, and which I enjoyed so much I recorded a podfic for it, was Master Eyaf talking to Padawan Obi-Wan when he's not doing so well.

Day 4: Action/Adventure (EC & OC... it's complicated)

“I like your hair,” she said, tugging on a long strand. “Do you remember the first rule?”

“No touching,” he repeated. His face was flushed as well, she noticed, now that she’d turned to face him again.

“But is it all right if I kiss you?” She settled on his knees which he’d parted slightly as she’d continued to dance.

“Yes,” he whispered.

She leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and beneath her hands she could feel his chest rising and falling.

4091 words / original character & qui-gon jinn / bittersweet / mature audiences: vulgarity, allusions to sex and violence

An Unexpected Dance

When Eyaf was the one drawing attention on a job, she avoided connecting to the Force. She left it as a soft lull at the back of her mind, like hearing the distant roar of the tide coming in, reassured that if she absolutely had to, she could pull from that source.

When she was on the floor of the Hips & Whips between sets, she knew it was risky to rely on her Force sensitivity on the slight chance someone could sense her doing it. Eyaf caught the hand reaching to grope her instinctively.

“No touching!” She flashed her fangs as she smiled at the patron, just bordering on predatory. She didn’t want to get a complaint.

“Masha!”

Eyaf turned to Kirest, the floor manager, who looked sternly between her and the Correllian. She'd gotten good at responding to her alias.

“Any problems here?” he asked.

“No, sir.” She looked back to the table of rougher-than-usual spacefarers and winked as she continued: “Just answered some questions about the establishment rules.”

That seemed to realign his concern. Kirest was fairly short for a Human, but could glare with the best of them. She might not have given him her real name when she began working here four months ago, but she knew he had her back.

She tilted her head back as she walked on, her lilac lekku swaying, well aware that her outfit was as much an advertisement for the establishment as the flashing neon signs in the window which stated “Dancers! All types!” in cursive Aurebesh and two other galactic scripts.

The wall was still stained from where an older sign, the silhouette of a Twi’lek woman with conspicuously suggestive anatomy had previously hung. “Former management,” she’d been told when she’d been hired.

Eyaf had been raised in the Créche of the Jedi Temple, so she had been spared most of the stereotypes of Twi’lek women growing up. But she had become aware of them during her teenage years, once she’d begun striking out on missions as a Padawan. Master Ibban had never condescended to her, in general, it didn’t seem to be a particularly Jedi trait to shy away from the harsh realities of the galaxy. Though he had instilled in Eyaf several idealisms about how the galaxy should be.

Ibban would probably have something to say about Masha, she thought, and quickly brushed that thought aside.

She couldn’t use the Force without giving herself away, but she’d studied closely with her Master who had not been as reliant on the Force as other Jedi. He’d encouraged her to use all her abilities, to blend in among the general population and use her other talents in order to do what needed to be done. She could draw on the meditation techniques she’d been taught, she could do real damage with her bare fists. Months ago, she’d left her lightsaber in a safehouse, blocks away from her fake apartment.

She was graceful, she’d have told her former Master. So she became a dancer.

Dancers at Hips & Whips were well paid and taken care of. Too bad it was the secret front for Hutt smugglers. She’d never had believed it herself if she’d been merely shown in through the front door, but months of observation and playing just-dumb-enough had made it pretty clear. The beings who danced and the clients who paid were not as vital to the business as the spooks who came in through the backdoor and never seemed interested in the near nudity going on in the greenroom at all hours.

Eyaf took a leisurely stroll around the floor and picked up a few glasses. Technically there were bussers for that, but it didn’t hurt to remind the clientele who was working, she’d been told. Better for her mission as well. If she lingered, she could keep an eye on who came around from the backdoor and got sloppy. She’d gleaned quite a bit since working here, but not enough to take back to the liaison she’d been assigned to track down Beroo the Hutt. No one had seen head or tail of him for almost a year.

“That’s what the Hutt told me.”

She whipped her head around and nearly smacked a drink off a waitresses tray with one of her lek. It was as though someone had been listening to her thoughts. The Geonosian waitress clicked at her in irritation.

“Ah, sorry,” she said, ducking her head a bit and wincing.

Playing up her natural emotions was always the hardest part. She was concentrating so hard on how long it was reasonable to be abashed that she didn’t immediately notice someone staring at her. She turned, readying a solicitous smile when she met familiar eyes and her expression froze.

“Eya—” Qui-Gon gulped when he realized she was indeed who he’d thought.

She felt him reach out with the Force, the equivalent of a handshake, and she rebuffed him. If he said her name he would potentially do damage to her cover story, let alone his. If she used the Force with so many eyes on her, someone would ask questions about Masha.

Masha would never judge a client’s outfit if it was clean and the credit was good. Eyaf thought Qui-Gon’s outfit was ridiculous. It was like something you could buy from Jawas who’d just looted a laundry line. If it wasn’t tunic and robes, he still couldn’t dress.

You could take the boy out of the Temple, but apparently couldn’t take the Jedi out of the boy.

“Eyyy,” he tried again. “You there, what’s your name?”

She felt her face go pale. Did he have any idea what he was doing?

“Masha,” she said, trying very hard to remember that flirtatious tone she had long-ago perfected, even though it was her old friend doing the soliciting.

“Masha, how much would it be for the night?”

Oh shit. He really didn’t know what he was doing.

“You mean for a dance, handsome?”

“Yes?”

Fucking hell.

“A private dance?” she suggested.

“Uh. Yes.”

That got a chuckle from the Wookie sitting beside him. “Don’t let her fleece ya,” the Wookie growled, leaning in as though in confidence, but it wasn’t said quietly enough for Eyaf to misunderstand.

Her floor manager was allowed to scowl at that. Masha couldn’t because it was bad for business, and Eyaf wouldn’t have deigned that remark with even a cool look. It was testament to Qui-Gon’s adaptability that he picked up his hat and smiled easily at his companion.

“Hopefully I won’t see you womp rats again too soon.” He winked.

Eyaf resisted the urge to punch him, even as she looped her arm through his and recited the rules which Masha was supposed to remind every client of.

“So I know you already know this,” she spoke in that half-quiet, lilting voice which carried just far enough to catch the ears of those not otherwise engaged. “But while you can give me permission to touch you, you can’t touch me. Understand?”

“Uh, yeah.” Qui-Gon sounded like a water-farmer fresh off the dunes, but he wasn’t actually looking at her when he responded, glancing just over her shoulder.

She ran over the rest as quickly as she dared, ending with: “Asking me to take my clothes off is extra.”

He did look at her then, and he seemed mildly concerned.

“Not all the dancers strip, sir,” she said, trying to affect that same lightness in her tone.

“But you do,” he said, it wasn't really a question.

“I haven’t had any complaints yet.” She caught the eye of an off-duty Urabellion officer and fluttered her eyelashes before turning back to Qui-Gon.

She was sure he knew how public their journey across the club floor was. He had to. She knew he wasn’t stupid. This was part of their cover, too. ‘Dancer takes inexperienced yokel into a dark corner.’ They had parts to play here.

She let him lead her into one of the smaller booths and drew the curtain once he had sat down. Immediately Qui-Gon seemed to relax and become a bit more like himself, but when he met her eyes she shook her head. This easily transitioned into a move which she and the other Twi’lek dancers did to make their lekku sway in a languorous movement. It was awkward, much easier for the beings with long-hair, but it was popular and had the desired effect on clientele — usually.

“What are you doing?” Qui-Gon asked, stiffening as she sidled up to him and reached out a hand to touch him.

“May I touch you?” she asked.

“What are you doing?” he seemed to be getting uncharacteristically stern with her.

“May I touch you?” she repeated.

She couldn’t get away with using the Force while being watched, so she hoped he could understand her meaning when she made a modified gesture to indicate the holocams which were placed inside all the dance booths.

“I’m dancing,” she said. She spoke in that soft sigh of a voice which was meant to put a client at ease, and she hoped it had a similar effect on Qui-Gon. “You might enjoy it more if I was allowed to touch you. You did ask for a private dance after all.”

Neither of them commented on the fact that he had accidentally asked for something very different at first, and that she was the one who had suggested the dance.

“Yes,” he sighed. “You can touch me.”

“Lovely.” She grinned wolfishly and straddled his hips.

They didn’t speak for several tense moments. Her usual dance routine involved quite a bit more physical contact. She wasn’t worried with Qui-Gon, she trusted him, knew that he would never do anything to her that she hadn’t asked him for. There were few at the Temple that she knew who had as much control over themselves as Qui-Gon.

The majority of the time he didn’t seem to take anything seriously, but because she’d seen him grow from impetuous teenager into rebellious youth and into the man she knew now, she could tell better than most when he was being serious and just pretending to laugh something off. It was more often than other Jedi might have suspected. It was his style. She appreciated that about him. It had actually been on her mind as she’d been curating the persona of Masha.

“You know my name, handsome, what’s yours?” She dipped her hips in a circuitous motion and spoke softly, not hiding from the person listening to make sure she wasn’t being hurt, or that something profitable was being kept away from the backdoor. It was faux-intimacy for clients.

“Uh. Kreg.”

“Akreg?” She put one hand on his shoulder and dipped lower with her hips, barely brushing his thighs.

“Kreg.” He cleared his throat. “My parents were Revisionists.”

“Oh,” she smiled, liking how his conservative backstory overlapped with appearances. “Your friends showing you a good time?”

He scowled a bit at that. “Masha—”

Eyaf could tell from his tone that he wanted to tell her something. She tucked a bit of his hair behind his ear and leaned in to whisper: “They’re listening.”

“I know,” he replied, still scowling the barest amount. “I won’t touch you.”

“Good,” she smiled, and even though it made her queasy, she asked: “You ever been with a Twi’lek before?”

“Uh…”

It wasn’t a pleasant look on his face, and Eyaf was quickly tiring of this version of role-playing they’d stumbled into. But this was her routine, so she laughed as she always did, no matter what the client answered. “I meant for a dance.”

“Right.” He was flushed a little at the neck.

She knew that looking the way she did, moving against him the way she was, that a physiological reaction was not out of the question. It didn’t mean anything, and she wasn’t just saying that. The body had reactions that the mind would want no part of. A man who was known for having control over himself at all times might feel some measure of shame at that. She didn’t know what to do for him.

She twirled and danced with her back to him, hearing the music that was piped in to give each little area privacy, but she could also hear just beyond the curtains anyway. She knew that some of the dancers were more lax with the rules than they should be. Not that any of them would sleep with a client. At least not on the premises where the rules applied.

She’d been counting the minutes since they’d set foot into the curtained space. Most private dances last fifteen minutes at least, and if she was unlucky, someone would be listening that whole time. Most of the time however, once things turned slightly more intense, when the client was well and truly involved with the dancer, the managers would relax enough to let the dancers work.

“I like your hair,” she said, tugging on a long strand. “Do you remember the first rule?”

“No touching,” he repeated. His face was flushed as well, she noticed, now that she’d turned to face him again.

“But is it all right if I kiss you?” She settled on his knees which he’d parted slightly as she’d continued to dance.

“Yes,” he whispered.

She leaned in slowly and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, and beneath her hands she could feel his chest rising and falling.

Qui-Gon wasn’t celibate like some Jedi, had in fact been praised to a nearly-nauseating degree by a courtesan he’d had the honor of working with once, not that he had said anything. As far as she knew, he had never been terribly inclined toward any particular beings. He had not ever had any interest in her, either, which had made spending so much time in close proximity to him easier when they’d both been young Knights. The physiological reaction to her costume, her dance playlist, this place, was not an indication of anything. She would never have kissed a client like that. Instead she was softer, she kept her distance and pressed her lips to his ear to tug on his earlobe with her teeth eliciting a shiver from him.

“What are you doing here?” she spoke as quietly as she dared.

He let out a ragged breath, and she could see him gripping the chair cushion tightly.

“I followed an assassin to the backdoor, but didn’t think they’d let me barge in as I was.”

She giggled, a bit more playfully than probably appropriate, but she still had a role to play. “That explains the clothes.”

He remembered himself just as he was opening his mouth to reply. “Oh. I guess you see guys like me all the time.”

She leaned in again to nuzzle at his neck, her arms looping over his shoulders, and she leaned into him more, her breasts pressing against his chest.

“What does the assassin want?” she asked.

“They’ve got a grudge with Beroo apparently. You’re aware that…” he pulled his head back slightly to look her in the eye and she nodded.

“Not here,” she said happily, as though speaking about anything else.

“I think that means they’re out for revenge.” He did not match her smile.

Something cold splashed on her that even the close air of their little oasis couldn’t keep from chilling her blood.

“What will they do?” Eyaf asked.

“Go after his assets.” His voice was barely above a breath and he leaned in, just slightly, as though he was going to kiss her himself. “They’re wanted for arson and are an incendiary specialist.”

“The backdoor let them in?” she asked.

He nodded, the barest movement. “Not without some trouble. There was disagreement. Maybe an old code.”

“An accomplice could easily help hide a device to blow this place,” she said. “We should evacuate if I can’t find it. Can you take care of the guests?”

“If you take care of the dancers.” He pressed closer, speaking into her ear directly. “I’ll wait for your word.”

“I’m due for a break,” she said, a little more loudly, disentangling herself. “But I’d love to dance for you again, Kreg. Will you be around for a while?”

“If I got to see you dance again, Masha, I’d stay all night.” The words were cheerful, but he looked much paler than he had while she’d been dancing.

“I’ll be back,” Eyaf said, and just as Masha would, she ran her fingers along his face.

There was something going on in his expression, but she didn’t have time to think about it. The assassin could have been in and gone already thirty minutes ago. She nodded at Kirest, who was glaring holes into Qui-Gon’s back.

“I just need to piss,” she said with a grimace. “He said he wants another dance when I’m back.”

“Oh!” Kirest raised his eyebrows. “I know you’re good, Masha, but still. Nice job.” He nodded and moved on to check on a dancer coming out of another booth.

All noise was swallowed as soon as Eyaf stepped across the boundary into the backrooms. She spent most of her time in the green room, but as far as she knew, she’d seen the entirety of the back area. There weren’t any rooms that were technically off limits to the dancers or any of the other staff, but it was always better to have a reason to be somewhere. Like anyplace one worked, shirking was not a good look.

The backdoor was attended by a Quarren with a scarred eye, who was busy watching a holodrama with his good eye as Eyaf walked past him. He didn’t even look at her. In the kitchen, she found some mail sitting on the table beside a box of donuts from the corner-bakery. She snagged one and moved on to the next room. A holo-screen was playing the main theme of the drama she’d just heard on the Quarren’s device, but the couches were empty. The only ones in the green room were the Twi’lek Twins who were just applying each other’s makeup. Eyaf didn’t like to spend much time with them if she could help it. Despite the fact that they were also keeping a secret (they were not in fact siblings) she didn’t find any comfort in their presence. They didn’t know she was keeping a secret as well, after all. She also found the steaming mug of kaf that signalled that one of the Humans had come in as well. Riz was one of her favorite co-workers, his jokes and his stories about his toddler were some of the highlights of her nights. She had to make sure he got out if there was a bomb. They all deserved to live long lives as far as she was concerned.

She found Riz coming out of the showers, something off with his expression, and when she saw the other backdoor manager, a Thisspiasian, come out of the refresher after him with a smirk, she felt a quiver of disgust. That was something about money, then. She moved on. She liked Riz, but he didn’t know her from Prime Jedi. All she could do was see if there was a bomb and make sure he got out with everyone else if there was.

She came back through the kitchen, and paused. She looked at the little stack of flimsi-letters, nothing unusual there, and then looked at the package sitting beside them. As far as she knew, that courier didn’t work in this part of the city. No one else was around but still she hesitated to reach out through the Force, instead lifting the package to listen for the tell-tale buzz of a carbo-tikar bomb. Her heart clenched into a fist and her skin seemed to contract in on itself, making her dance-loosened muscles begin to cramp. But she heard nothing. She didn’t have time for this. After another beat, she took a deeper look, closing her eyes to feel the contents within, ghostly sensations rippling across her fingers as she touched them like smoke. It was a memory stick.

Her thoughts whirred for a moment, because what if this was a lead that she could not afford to let slip away? But she remembered that a known arsonist had been in these rooms, and if she didn’t find what they had left behind, more than a lead might be lost.

She hadn’t dropped her connection to the Force, and that’s why she could smell the faintest trace of chemicals that were unfamiliar to her, carried on the air which had followed Riz and the Thisspiasian out of the refresher. She went back, and actually went inside this time. The room was empty, but steam clung to the walls and mirrors, the white tile making the air seem misty still.

The smell was stronger. Her gaze honed in on the garbage pail beside one of the toilets. It was smoke.

Without thinking about it, she dropped to her knees and suffocated the chemical fire in an instant with her power. Her head went light for a moment, but she drew from the Force and then stood, barely a waver in her step. As she turned, she was Riz in the doorway looking at her in concern.

Had he seen her?

“Oh, honey,” he said, snagging a wet towel. He handed it to her.

At her look of confusion, he gestured to the corner she’d just been kneeling in.

“To wipe your mouth,” he said. He smiled. “I know this work isn’t always sunshine and rainbows. So if you ever need to talk, just know that I’m here for you.”

He left her alone at that, and briefly she wondered what he’d come back into the room for. He’d assumed, what? That she’d been throwing up? That she’d been spitting something out? The steam warmth of the room had dissipated. She needed to find Qui-Gon.

She saw the shaving kit beside the sink and snagged it. On her way back to the Green Room, she saw that the package on the kitchen table was gone. When she handed the shaving kit to Riz, she didn’t see evidence of the package, but she had closed herself off from the Force again, and was sliding her best ‘Carefree Masha’ impression back into place.

“Thanks,” he said, and she kissed him on the forehead, a silent thank you in return.

Out on the floor, the thumping music rose to a crescendo the chorus of a hot new hit pulsing against her temples — the party goes off like a carbo-tikar bomb — and she smiled as she caught Qui-Gon’s eye.

“Oh, good! You’re still here, Kreg!” She reached out for him, catching the lapel of his vest, even as the others at the table seemed to stiffen at her approach. Without the Force her best guess was jealousy rather than suspicion. “Still want another dance?”

“How about you dance for all of us, little lady? You’re wasting it on this one. He’s fresh out of the tank.”

Eyaf didn’t spare the other one a glance.

“Is that what you want?” Eyaf asked.

“That might be best,” Qui-Gon said. “No hard feelings, but I have an early shift tomorrow.”

He seemed genuinely worried about her, and still rebuffing the sense that he was reaching out to her, she could only plaster on that fake smile and shrug.

“No hard feelings, but you owe me. You said you wanted to see me dance all night.”

“Another time, perhaps,” he said, suddenly sounding more like himself. She hid a moment of confusion. “I’m not sure this is my kind of place. As long as you’re OK?”

Yes, the threat was neutralized — but she couldn’t say that.

“I’ll get over it,” she winked, and pressed a hand to his cheek, feeling the rough skin where he’d done a bad job shaving. “But I’ll hear about it if you buy a dance from someone else.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Qui-Gon said with an aw-shucks bob of his head, putting the ugly hat back on. “See you around.”

She didn’t watch to see if he looked back, instead turning to the others still at the table.

It twisted in her gut to not have closure, to know if things were all right, that he had given her money. All she could do was hope to see him again soon in clear air.

#star wars oc ship week #starwarsocshipweek2021 #qui gon jinn #prompt fill #fanfiction #my oc #eya'fiwu

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