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ameliasstories · 2 years

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Mars - Chapter 5

The Jedi had sent a cadet to them. A “padawan learner” General Kenobi had called her. Her name was Ahsoka Tano, and Cody learned quickly from Rex that although General Kenobi had requested her, she had assigned herself to General Skywalker. He also learned that General Skywalker was not happy about this development, which was no surprise. In the short time he’d known him, Cody realized that General Skywalker took to responsibility like a tooka cat to bathtime. He was a brilliant fighter and an even better pilot, but he was still reckless and headstrong. Sometimes, he worried about how well-matched he and Rex were. He hoped they might calm each other somewhat, or at least support each other in their mutual madness.

Nat-borns were smaller than clone cadets were at the same standard age. Ahsoka Tano was fourteen, yet she looked more like what Cody had looked like at seven years old. Despite her protests, that she was old enough, that Master Yoda trusted, she was still so small in their eyes.

It rekindled his resolve to protect the Jedi, a directive he had only come to truly accept upon meeting them himself. Simultaneously, it brought back with it that veritable soup of emotions that seemed ever-present in him nowadays. Ever since he’d discovered the larger universe, and learned what childhood could look like, what it should look like, he’d carried a certain type of rage with him. It was a righteous sort of anger, and it was the greatest source of the conflicted opinion he had of the Jedi most days.

Being around him felt like being in a dream. It was perfectly realistic until you awoke. The Jedi still seemed so good, so much larger than life. They were, in his eyes at least, both competent and incompetent, naive and wise beyond what he could imagine. General Kenobi more so than most. Whenever he was away from him, Cody could not bring himself to believe that he was as righteous, calm, and perfect as he made himself out to be. But in his presence, he felt as though there was no way the General could ever be anything else. The fact that he could not consolidate these two images of the Jedi in his mind was in large part the cause of his alternating between frustration and defensiveness of them.

The General was a man cut from many different types of cloth, and Cody could not find the thread he need to connect them into a tapestry.

“Cody!” The General drew his attention with a shout of his name as he ducked behind the fallen debris Cody had slid behind in order to speak with him. The space was somewhat cramped but General Kenobi managed to crouch down beside him in relative safety, his lightsaber deactivating so the steady hum of it would not disturb them. “This isn’t working. I need to draw their attention some other way.”

Cody’s brows furrowed beneath his helmet, though the General had no way of knowing that, even if he did have an uncanny ability to read their emotions though their faces were obscured. “What did you have in mind, sir?” He asked, trying his hardest not to focus on the way the General’s body connected to his all along the side of his torso, or how both of them tilted their heads toward each other.

“I’m going to surrender myself, and stall for time,” he suggested, and Cody bit down on his protests until his tongue was bleeding in his mouth. “It’s not ideal but it’s our best option. We need to give Anakin and Ahsoka the opportunity to reach that shield generator.”

And despite the risks accompanying the plan, Cody could see the General’s thought process. Sending any trooper to stall would be suicide but the General could would not meet the same fate. He wasn’t known as the Negotiator for nothing, after all. In the short months Cody had known him, he’d seen him talk his way out of pretty much any situation, from negotiation with separatist planets to prodding Senators at state functions.

The General was just as reckless as his former padawan at the best of times. It was a lesson he’d learned the hard way. He was being reckless with his own life, as was becoming a veritable pattern. But Cody trusted him not to overplay his cards. And he understood, better than some, the urge General Kenobi must be feeling to protect General Skywalker and Commander Tano.

“Give the signal,” Cody conceded, “and we’ll cover you.”

General Kenobi put a heavy hand on his armored shoulder. “Thank you, Cody,” he said, and the earnestness of it lit a fire under Cody’s skin, warm and uncomfortable. But he shoved the feeling aside in favor of ducking out from behind their hiding place and beginning to fire at the advancing droids again.

Luckily for them, the ray shield came down just over a standard hour later. And a bloom of relief unfurled in Cody’s chest when he received a comm from the General, directing them towards his position. As expected, the discussion of his surrender had quickly turned into the discussion of General Loathsom’s surrender instead.

The entire time he was directing the troops around, Cody was itching to tell the General something. He needed to talk to him, to see him, though he couldn’t fathom what for.

But the bustle following a battle was hardly the moment for a conversation. First, he had to delegate squads to pick up General Skywalker and Commander Tano, pack up their remaining relief supplies, and pick a new base of operations.

In this work, he was usually alone. General Kenobi usually assisted in the supervision of their supply distribution, especially in or around the medical areas. No man could wrestle the General into a medbay in order to heal his own wounds, yet he stood beside the cot of any trooper, helping them calm down from a post-battle-induced breakdown. The shinies especially received his undivided attention during this time. It was something that made a knife twist inside of Cody’s chest every time his eyes caught on the General’s steady form hunched over beside one of his brothers.

The General seemed to care for them deeply, repeatedly sacrificing his time and energy to comfort the men under his command, even if they were clones. But he was a member of the Jedi Council. A Council which had direct influence in the politics of the Republic. Cody knew, logically, that they were probably trying to do the best with what they had to help the galaxy. But he couldn’t push away the nagging frustration at the fact that he thought they could be doing more for his brothers. They were a part of the Republic, were they not?

“It’s good to see you safe, sir,” Cody commented once the two of them finally stood alone beside each other. As always, his conflictedness melted away once he saw the General before him, saw that he was safe and whole, his features softened when he faced Cody.

He was glad to finally have caught him alone for a moment, and his words were earnest, just as the General’s had been during the battle. His words, his tone, were still rattling inside Cody’s head, though he pushed his thoughts of them away. General Kenobi was a good leader, even if his tactical prowess was still severely lacking . And Cody, along with his entire battalion, would be dismayed to see the General pass on.

The smile General Kenobi offered in return was tight with exhaustion, but genuine. “I’m glad to be safe, Cody.” His gaze followed the retreating figures of General Skywalker and Commander Tano, with Rex joining them along the way. “I’m glad their situation has sorted itself out as well. I had been worried.”

“They’ll make quite the trio,” Cody agreed, unsure of what to say next.

Luckily, General Kenobi had no such uncertainties. “I do hope I’m not quite as much a headache?” The question was accompanied by a wicked grin Cody had come to know meant he was instigating a lighter topic of conversation.

“Oh, not at all,” he smiled behind his helmet. “The migraine medication Kix ordered is entirely unrelated to you, I promise.”

many thanks to my (incredibly patient) beta @cassie-isms

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #obi-wan #commander cody #ahsoka tano #captain rex #kix #anakin skywalker #also on ao3 #codywan

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clonehub · 3 years

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silver earringss: cody, fox, wolffe, denal, sinker, bly, kix

gold earrings: howzer, gree, echo, waxer

black earrings: rex, hardcase, fives, boost, tup, boil

shitty little plastic clip ons: anakin

#CH posts #shitpost #askjfdhalskdf #also tho its canon #although whenever I draw anakin #i drwa him with black studs #all the bros

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highsviolets · 3 years

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waterfall inquiry: javier peña x reader

pairing: javier peña x young analyst!reader

summary: words should not make you feel so much.

warnings: age gap. kissing. and - the worst of all - f e e l i n g s. (soft ones)

a/n: [edited 10 June ‘21] this was supposed to be three parts...and now there’s more. I regret nothing :)

[next] [series masterlist] [main masterlist] * gif: @anakin-skywalker

“Bow swung finds tongue to fling out broad its name”

“as kingfishers catch fire” | gerard manley hopkins

Neither of you should be here. Strictly speaking, at least.

The Embassy maintains regulations about these sorts of things, you’ve heard in jagged claims that coat the walls in a sickly iridescent sheen. Not the pretty kind that makes glitter sparkle. No, it’s the perverse shine — pyrite and oil spills on tepid water and those cheap kaleidoscopes they sell at county fairs.

Everything, it seems, is whispered here. Here at the Embassy, anyway; Colombia itself is a messy, irreverent place. A dreamlike people, an altered state where God acts as the intermediary between man and demons, not angels.

Perhaps that is why the Embassy is always quiet. The shrill clang of a phone ringing makes everyone start, fearful of keeping demons at bay. Even the PR reps speak in hushed tones, the words soft and soothing like cotton balls dipped in baby oil gliding across skin — crafting press releases each word slotted for a specific purpose, hand-picked with evolutionary precision.

It harasses you, stinging pricks drawing blood from beneath the surface of your bronze skin. Words should move freely, you believe. Like the way the Mississippi runs in during the spring melt: coarse, unimpeded, roiling in caught light, caressing the riverbanks as it soaks up all the world gives it — thrusting forward after a winter fraught in immobility, reveling in flinty purpose.

There’s a difference between words of fabrication and phrases of culled authenticity — the ones that stream from bleeding hearts, bound tightly by shoves and glares and hands that can’t keep still. Hands that grasp for something tangible. Anfractuous reminders of why they must be so careful, why they must keep the truth of themselves limited to brief instances of throwing back light or heat.

There is one man, you know, who thinks like you do — and he laughs at the fact that your jobs depend upon other people being careless with their words. Bandying about locations, codenames, numerals, what to buy at the grocery store. You can almost hear him, that marmalade voice spreading over you, eyes gleaming in smoke and fervor: yeah, carelessness gives us both a job. But it hurts, too.

Tonight, though. When you both are here when you really shouldn’t, you really fucking shouldn’t, not when you’ve been dreaming about him for…for how long? How long have you been in this country that makes a mockery of verisimilitude? Long enough, apparently, for everything else to blur when you look at him, for you to have memorized the way his shirts pull tight over his back when he’s leaned over his desk.

Eyes climb up the length of his torso, the slope of it heightened by the way he’s bracing his weight on his hands. His palms are spread wide and god as much as you think you want to stop the way your mouth runs dry at the sight his large palm, you can’t.

A sigh leaks out. The man in question spares a glance your way, matching the twist of his neck to the cigarette he brings to his lips. “You alright?” he mumbles around the thing, and you grip the desk’s edge a little harder at the sound, at the sight, of him in his element. His exhale — a finely tuned purse of the lips, discreetly directed away from your work — should feel the same as your sigh, but it doesn’t. It washes over you instead, and you rock in the way his existence ebbs and flows in and out of your person. Easy. Like breathing. Like all you have to do is breathe, and he’ll be there.

There are stories about him. When you had been sent down to Columbia as a junior analyst after the death of Escobar, you had quickly dived into the mythos the man. How could you not, when he was everywhere, the scent and swagger of him drawing eyes from every corner of the barricaded building?

The others — the replacements, someone had once termed the batch of new personnel flooding the country to fight Cali — had told you the stories; where they had heard them, you weren’t sure. Huddled over tepid drinks in the bar after work, blazers shrugged off and shirtsleeves rolled up, you had let them regale you of how he fought for years to bring down Escobar, only to be in Miami when his partner did the deed. How he fucks his informants; although, one of them admitted with a sigh, he hadn’t been known to do that in a while. How he was ruthless in the pursuit of justice. A fucking legend, man, someone had crowed about the older man, tongue loose with overpriced alcohol.

And through it all, there was you, eyeing the man himself across the bar. The embrace of his hands against the whiskey glass, the way he barely shuddered at the consuming burn of the stuff when he tossed it back in a behavioral gesture. He seems sad, is what you had thought. Whatever opposite of sad existed in this opulent measure of time by which you both abided — that’s what you wanted to do for him. To make him not-sad. He is aged, perhaps, but not old, rather like someone who could be young if they could shed the pallid skin of responsibility.

But you can’t play God in this country of fallen beings. Being consumes you instead, devolving into an obsession, hanging onto the ledge of yourself — gripping humanity and slicing rocks and graphite that stains your skin even as it slides away, too smooth to be held in hands that ache, swollen, from typing up reports detailing the tumbled-gravel sins of humanity.

He likes you. You think he might, anyway. He consults you before any of the others, and once or twice he’s dragged some Columbian officer into your tiny workspace, asking you to confirm the intelligence on whatever operation he’s desperate to get approved so he can do something. He asks with words that curl up and over themselves like whitecaps, one hand resting on his hip as he nods along to your recitation.

But it’s really his eyes you watch in these moments, aching in fluttering hope whenever they rest on yours. Javier Peña’s eyes when he visits you in your workspace are pleading thermoses of life under sterile fluorescent lights. He likes to send you a half-smile and a nod when you’re finished, tossing them over his shoulder as he escorts the man back to the Ambassador’s office. You are both too good at your job not to love it in some sick & twisted way, and he knows.

Other times he simply drops by. Leaning against your cubicle, he fiddles with a cigarette and chats with you as you work, asking questions that he knows he’s the only one examining.

Talk to me about the families of la cartel de Cali, he mutters, the hoarse sound deep and aching in your gut. About their mothers, daughters, sons, cousins, in-laws. Is anyone sick? Do they want to go on vacation? What’s the drama of the week, no, don’t laugh, — he smiles, here, barely, the delicate minutiae of the expression an external revelation of his magnetism — there always is in families. They’re human just like us. And that’s when he sighs, and looks across the hall, where in his office there’s a diagram of the Cali bosses splayed over the wall. Yeah...they’re like us.

Javier makes a slowly forms a habit of it, of stopping by your cubical and wrapping you in currents of charisma and truth. He does you a solid, too, bringing you to the attention of your superiors when he mentions your diligence. And you repay him in kind, taking care to slip into his office with new intelligence before the brass gets word. You tell yourself it’s simple mentorship. Mere patronage. He’s paying it forward, helping the young analyst get ahead in their career. These meetings are nothing to him, and they ought to be equally as empty to yourself. It’s just exchanges of information. Conversation between colleagues.

Of course, that doesn’t explain why you look forward to his fingers touching yours when you lend him a pen, or, when he makes some half-whispered joke in Spanish, it makes you shiver. Or the pride that blossoms in your chest, embracing you all soft and balmy, when he considers your words. He handles them like he does his favorite cigarettes, rolling them between his fingers, palming their weight, letting the texture seep into his skin before he lights them on fire.

You drop your pen a lot; he brings a finger to his mouth in thought. You don’t see the way he smiles when you do that, grinning at the muttered curse and roll of your eyes. And he decides that he likes the way you laugh about it; poking fun at your own mistakes, the skin that matches his own gleaming in the warm sun.

He can never do that. Perhaps he should? But he doesn’t make mistakes like that, toss-away interruptions of intended action. The mistakes he makes get people killed. All the more reason to keep checking with you, he reasons, to double-insure the intelligence. Can’t have another mess. And he likes to hear your laugh. Nothing wrong with that, he says. Nothing wrong with something that makes his heart stir and entices the eyes hidden behind yellow aviators to trace the length of your neck a little longer than strictly necessary when you throw your head back in unmarked joy.

And tonight, in his office? Tonight he seems melancholic again, like the first time you saw him across the bar. He keeps shifting his weight, one hand on his hip, and then on the table, and then shrugging off both his jacket and his tie and tossing them unceremoniously onto the couch, limbs extending listlessly. It’s as close to careless as he gets.

Or maybe it’s just the exhaustion fusing into you both. You feel slow and hazy, torn between staring at him and bleary eyes glaring at the map beneath his fingers. if you just look at it longer, you think, you can will it all to fall into place. and maybe if you did he would kiss you, and maybe he would kiss you the way he has always wanted to live.

Maybe if you traced your tongue along his exposed collarbone, penning of licks of hope in the space where his words seem to get caught, where his perpetually open collar leaves him defenseless to an onslaught of physical impressions…maybe then, he’d exhale in blessed adoration, taken outside of himself for just one moment.

He’s asking you a question. You alright? He does that a lot, you realize. Checks in with you. When you answer, he laughs — those delightful eyes seeping warmth into your weary bones as they crinkle in a smile — and he reminds you to call him Javier. He — Javier — has rebuked you at least three times tonight alone, but you’ve yet to oblige his request. If you do, if you let your tongue caress his sacred name and rest in its life-sodden weight, you fear…

you do not know what you fear. you do not know how saying his name will shift the tides in your life. but you know that you will remain forever anchored to him, tethered to his lunar opacity.

“What’s this?” you ask instead, shifting to rest against the desk. You’re beside him now, hip adjacent to his as you look up at him. Latent smoke hovers overhead, and locks of his hair have come undone after the long hours of work and now rest over his forehead small waves. It looks like it aches, being so out of place, and yet so distinctly him. Caught. Destined to arch over his tanned skin, all the while lingering in a place where it should not. Not here, anyway. Not tonight, in his office, far after everyone else has gone home.

“What’s what?” Javier rejoins, distracted, still bent over the desk, still bracing his weight on those fingers.

Rustling papers catch his attention, and he twists to meet your gaze. “This.” You point to the unfamiliar word, stamped out in standard font. “My Spanish is decent, but I’ve never seen this word before.”

The wrinkles behind the shield of his fallen hair press together as he cranes his neck, adjusting his stance to read the word on the paper you thrust in his direction. It clears rapidly though — the visage sailing and unfurling itself when he absorbs the story hidden in-between letters on a page.

He repeats the word back to you, leaning into the sound the way he leans into you, inching closer in his explanation. You stare at his lips, completely captivated — his tongue catching between his teeth — the purse of his lips — the rearrangement of his jaw as it conforms to the aerodynamics of structured syllables.

“Strictly speaking,” he says, eyes roving your face, deep and dark, “it means elf, or spirit. Something ethereal. It’s used in stories a lot.” The words are smooth, smokey, whiskey-like as you let them drip down your skin, the insides of your thighs. “Entiendes?”

Your body temperature rises. You can feel it — the way your mouth’s run dry and the paper’s slippery in your grip. Did his voice drop lower when he used the familiar form of the verb, not the formal? You think it did. Oh god, he’s so close, he could just extend a hand across your body and it could rest on your hip. You had never really noticed his height either, always in heels. Tonight, though, the heels are in the corner with his jacket and tie and you realize that he’s inches above you, yet somehow still within reach.

“What’s” — you swallow thickly, desperate to remain professional despite your wide eyes, the tongue tracing your lower lip — “what’s the non-strict definition of the word?”

He gives you one of his trademark smirks. “It can also mean,” he says, “enchanting. Charming. For someone or something to be magical.”

Nodding slowly, you drop your eyes down to the paper again, desperate to avoid his gaze. It follows you, watching your eyes hide even as you adjust to be ever-closer, a bare foot extending outward and brushing against the fabric of his dress pants. “I suppose that makes sense.”

“Say it,” you hear him urge, your head bolting up, incredulous. And you try, you really do, but it’s so new and unfamiliar and you’re so goddamn nervous with him looking at you, that you fuck it up. Words are but the vessels by which emotions themselves are expressed, so maybe the act of speaking should not make you feel all by itself. But it does — oh, god, it does, and you feel like you’ve shrunk in the process, dwarfed by this man with rolled up shirt sleeves wrapped around muscular forearms, who grins impishly around his cigarette.

“Not quite.” He stubs out the thing, and to your surprise, brings hand to your jaw, cupping your chin in-between his thumb and forefinger. “Say it again.”

“No, I can’t; I..“ you protest, and for what? because you don’t want him near you? no, that’s not it, but you’re being branded by his touch all the same.

“Say it again,” he commands again, more gently this time, his words accompanied by an encouraging nod.

You comply readily, sounding out the syllables. His strong fingers manipulate your movements, guiding you in pronouncing the difficult phrase. It’s forceful and noble, a tender yet compelling influence that teaches you how to wrap yourself in the meaning of the word as much the word itself. You’re tingling; is it from the thrill of achieving or from his sturdy hand against your bare skin?

He doesn’t back away when you’re finished speaking, but holds your stare. Dimly, you register the steady crescendo in your breathing. He’s not immune to your proximity either: his Adam’s apple bobs as he pushes down the deficit of hope flooding oppressive maxim of his presence. Times stretches as you remain caught in his hold, coursing through you, carrying you downstream in brash, coarse recklessness. Are the emotions you swim in those eyes yours, or his, or some measure of both?

The pads of his fingers migrate, drifting to rest along your cheek and tumble into his touch like a moth to flame, or fish to water, or whatever trite phrase people use to make sense of such profound belonging.

Javier is mesmerized with the way his fingertips trace your cheekbones, the shell of your ear, along your jaw, returning to outline your lips.

“Tell me to stop.” His voice scrapes along your bliss, and you force your eyes open to see that he’s moved even closer, closer-than-close, so tight against you that you’re nearly leaning back over the desk.

“Do you want me to?” His eyes are dark and still now, but for the way they’re trained on yours as you whisper fate into existence.

“No — fuck — I shouldn’t, I —“ his jaw shifts again, this time in agitation, but it is you who does the deed, cutting him off, reaching out to tug on his collar. The action pulls him forward, pressing himself against you, caging you between the desk and the broadness of his firm chest. And you do know it’s firm now, at last slipping your hands underneath that truant fabric and gliding along his smooth skin. His hands find your waist, gripping your hips as he meets your lips in an open-mouthed kiss.

He — Javier, now — kisses you a single-minded intent, letting his lips slide over yours lazily, over and over, memorizing the imprint of you against his mouth. One hand drifts upward again, cupping your cheek as he tilts your head slightly, letting his tongue delve into your mouth and trace your teeth. It makes you gasp, and you retaliate with a gentle nip to his lower lip, silently begging for more. Javier moans into your mouth, the pressure sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

Tightening his grip on your waist, Javier lifts you, placing you firmly on the desk, feet dangling a few inches from the floor. You know what he wants before he even has to ask and you give it him readily, wrapping your legs around his waist. Javier’s weight conforms to your own, molding against your body as you press into him, back arching in your submersion to his touch.

He is so eager; his kisses drench you in a deluge of incubated affection interspersed with need. Grasping at his shoulder, you pull him even closer, your other hand anxiously fiddling with his buttons as you sigh, reveling in the storm of his attention. Slowly, painstakingly, driven by a clamoring need for oxygen, he drags himself away from you, parting slowly, ever-loth to break the kiss.

You can’t help the shy smile that dances around your lips when you look up at him, standing above you. His chest is heaving, out of breath, hair somehow even more mussed than it was before. You suppose you can touch it now, so you do, two fingers brushing aside the fringe on his forehead.

Time, and space, and whatever else this stuff is made of have prevented from this alternate reality. until now. it has broken through the dam and caught you up in its awakening, broad and unrepentant.

Javier captures your hand as it lowers, pressing a kiss to the side of your palm. He’s so tender it makes you ache, and you wonder if this is why he stopped fucking his CIs. He requires something more intangible than what they could give him. “Javier,” you whisper.

He hums a question, rubbing a thumb over your knuckles as he watches you consider him, emotion lapping at the shores of unkempt eyes.

“You asked me to use your name. Earlier, I mean.” Should you feel embarrassed? Kissing a man several years your senior? Maybe you should. But you don’t. There’s a cordial warmth spreading through you, bolstered by his gentle touch, the outward connection of him and you that’s been built through months of inanimate remembrances.

“I know.” Javier nods and leans in again, his breath rippling across your skin. “Can you say it one more time, princesa? They say you need to do something three times” — a kiss to your cheek — “to make sure you really —“ a kiss to your forehead — “understand” — a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

The words fall out of your mouth, splashes of unrestrained affection dappling each letter. “Duende, Javier,” you murmur against his lips. “Duende.”

javi tags: @frannyzooey @yespolkadotkitty @rentskenobi @goldenkenobi @goldafterglow @teaofpeach @justrunamok @huliabitch @cri-me-a-river @littlevodika @catsnkooks @themarvelousbear @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @ladytrashbird @princessxkenobi @roxypeanut @dracos-jedi-marvel @a-seeker-of-imagination // taglist link in bio!

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coexiising · 3 years

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Fade Into You - Chapter Six

SUMMARY ✦ Anger is a heavy subject.

WARNING(S) ✦ fluff

MASTERLIST ✦ Here.

NOTE ✦ I will now be updating weekly on Mondays.

“Why do you stay with the Jedi?”

Vader’s softer tone brought you back to the present, where you were once again sitting at the opposite side of the table, your fork poking into some type of fruit and bringing it up to your mouth. After the rather, how would you put it, lustful, encounter that you had with Anakin, you tried to keep your distance in fear that he could feel your emotions raging like fire throughout your body. That had been two days ago, but living in a building with one person proved harder than not to avoid them. There was truly no way that you could avoid him for too long. It was better to just act like nothing was wrong.

“What do you mean, stay with them? They’re my family,” You said, setting your fork down onto the table near your plate.

Vader shook his head. “You had family before then, you know.”

“Yes, but they gave me away for the good of the Galaxy. The Force gave me a higher purpose to protect.”

“And you truly believe that the Jedi taking you away from your mother and father was the best way to do so? Do you even know who they are?”

You shook your head. You didn’t. As far as you knew, they could still be alive today and maybe you have even been in their presence before, or on the same planet as them due to the many missions you were given by the Order. You never thought about that before, you never gave much thought to the family or the life you had before you became a Jedi. Almost your entire life had been dedicated to the Order and in some ways, Vader was right, they never gave you the choice to leave or not. You knew that you could leave if you really, truly wanted to, but they wouldn’t help you secure a home or a job. Your life was dedicated to the Order. “No, I guess I’ve never really cared who they were enough to go looking for them.”

“I don’t believe that,” Vader stated. “You do care. The Jedi simply tried to tell you to stop caring about those attachments.”

“Attachments lead-”

“-To the Dark Side, I know. You’ve only said it about a million times. It sounds like you’re reciting a drill manual sometimes.”

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed your dishes and brought them to the sink, dropping them in and giving him one more glance, turning on your heel to storm out of the room. He always knew how to get under your skin, making you fume with anger that you hated to feel, because you knew that it was what he wanted. Vader wanted to make you emotional and angry and sometimes he would win. You could feel a difference in the type of Force coursing through your veins when you were angry, a more powerful type that scared as well as intrigued you.

Vader stood up from his seat as well. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“Not sure, wherever you won’t be I suppose,” You shrugged your shoulders, stepping out into the hallway, hearing him trail behind you. You spared him no chance and continued to walk to Maker knows where. “Stop following me. I’m not trying to escape, you’ve ruined all chances at that anyways. You keep me here like I’m some kind of pet and aggravate me.”

Vader caught up to you and the moment his hand came in contact with your left shoulder, you spun around and caught him by the wrist, looking up into his eyes. Instead of fear that you typically felt whenever he would look down at you like this, you felt an unusual amount of anger. You wanted to kill him. You wanted to dispose of him so that you could leave and you wouldn’t be trapped here anymore. You had been stuck in this place and the two of you were making little to no progress on assessing the connection that you had with one another. Your other hand came and harshly hit into his abdomen, cutting him off guard and sending him flying towards the other side of the hallway. Once his back hit the end wall and he fell to the ground with a small humph, you gathered your thoughts and attempted to calm yourself down, realizing that you were never able to wield such power before with just one hand. Being here was changing you, and it wasn’t for the better.

Although at first you thought that Vader would become angry that his prisoner was fighting him back, he only stood up and held his hands up in surrender. “Now, I was not expecting that from you,” He stated, a chuckle running past his lips. When he made his way forward, you started to walk backwards, scared of what you would do next with all this power. It was as though your senses came back to you and you didn’t want to hurt him, or kill him like you previously thought you did. Where did all of that come from?

“Stop. Don’t come any closer,” You told him, balling your hands into fists. “I don’t know where that came from and I don’t know if it’s . . . Gone. What are you doing to me?”

“That’s what true power feels like. Isn’t it exhilarating?” Anakin asked you, continuing to take steps towards you despite your pleas to go away. All this emotion, you’ve never felt it this intense before. Instead of the level head that the Order had filled you with, you were left with only your bare mind, neurotransmitters working overtime to compensate for the complete lack of emotional security you felt in the moment. Is this what it felt like to succumb to the Dark Side? No, you couldn’t be, you had tried your hardest to remember the ideals you learned as a Padawan and later as a Jedi Knight. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “It’s not alright, you’re turning me into a monster! Someone who has a complete lack of sympathy for hurting others. I was just about to kill you just then, don’t you understand? Being here is changing me for the worse and we’re achieving nothing!”

Vader was standing in front of you now, a calm demeanor that was a direct opposite from what you were feeling in the moment. It was as if he was assessing you, like he wanted this to happen. Was this his plan all along? To turn you to the Dark Side so that they would win the Clone Wars and the Galaxy would succumb to darkness? That dark, brooding stare looked down at you as he said, “There was no way that you would gain that type of power here in the small amount of time that you’ve resided in the castle.”

“What do you mean?” You asked.

“That’s been in you this entire time, trying to unleash itself but the Order never let you do so. That’s your true potential, and there is probably more if you were to master it.”

“As I’ve said before, I am not succumbing to the Dark Side no matter how much you try to get me to.”

“This doesn’t seem like the Dark Side, for your Force signature hasn’t changed, can’t you feel it?” Anakin asked. His hand raised and grabbed onto your fist, placing it near your heart. From there you could feel your heart rate, grounding you back to reality and making you able to feel the buzzing of the Force that constantly surrounded you. He was right, it was the same as it always had been, the soft, inaudible whispers of the Force filling your ears. “And I feel more connected to you now, unlike before where there felt as though there was a barrier. And look,” He released your hand and you saw that there was no burn on either of your skins. “It doesn’t want us away from each other anymore.”

The closer Anakin was to you, the more the Force seemed to pull you towards him. It made you want to wrap your arms around him, but instead you grabbed onto his wrist, feeling the harmony surrounding you both. The moment your eyes gazed into his, you could’ve sworn that under those golden eyes you saw a swift sea of blue tint, drawing you closer to Anakin. Your eyes closed and you leaned closer, lips pressing onto his own.

And it felt like nothing you had ever felt before. His lips were soft and plush, inviting you in for more whilst they worked with your own. Your hand stayed gripping his wrist and behind your eyes, a burst of light appeared and you felt something burst within your veins and travel through every single millimeter of your body. You felt like you were on fire, but in the best way that made you want more.

When Anakin finally pulled away from you he only pulled a few centimeters away. Now his eyes were completely blue, a beautiful blue that reminded you of the sky on Coruscant or the diamond jewels that you have seen many Senators wear before. You only looked into them for a moment more before he was kissing you again.

#anakin skywalker fanfiction #Anakin Skywalker #Sith Anakin #clone wars anakin #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #suitless vader #suitless vader x reader

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anakinisvaderisanakin · 3 years

Text

Vader: There is a refugee camp the rebels have provided aid to in the past.

Kallus: Yes, Tarkintown they call it. You suspect the rebels are in hiding there?

Vader: No, but I want you to burn it. The compassion of the rebels is a weakness, one we will exploit.

This is honestly a very underrated little tidbit from Vader, taken from the Siege of Lothal arc. Despite the more child friendly tone Rebels was going for, especially in its earlier seasons, you can see Vader’s ruthlessness clearly on display here. He’s not above burning an entire innocent, unsuspecting town simply for personal gain. He knows the rebels are compassionate, and thinks destroying the town will draw them out - rightfully so.

It’s just jarring in all the best ways, to see Anakin willing to help and save every last person in TCW whenever the war comes knocking on civilian doorsteps - only to do a complete 180, and pay little to no heed for humanoid life. It goes to show just how far Anakin has fallen, and how he (despite of course not being overtly sadistic like Palpatine) sees no issue in violent or dishonest actions, in order to further his own interests.

Vader doesn’t care for himself, and with no one whom he loves left alive or in his direct circle to benefit from his being kindhearted and compassionate - he throws it completely out the window. Goodness landed him where he is now, he doesn’t realize that his self centered way of suffocating his dear ones with love is not kindness, as much as a toxic sort of codependency. He doesn’t realize that he was never really selfless as much as self serving, and this is why Anakin’s relationships to Padmé, Obi Wan and Ahsoka were all doomed to fail - he expected them to give all of themselves unto him, as he did for them. This is bound go south, as people can never live up to expectations from their peers when placed up on a pedestal.

The typical mindset of Anakin falls back on, “if I give everything I have to you, you’re going to give me everything right back. What do you mean you can’t? That must mean I’m not enough, I’m never enough for you to give me all you’ve got! How dare you think of yourself when you should be thinking of me, because I put you before myself.”

Vader in a sense believes that if no one can be what or who he expected them to be, he might as well surrender that strategy. Anakin being just and good, and a hero, got him nowhere. It failed to produce him the results he desperately wanted. It failed to save Shmi and Padmé. He listened to the Jedi Order, and his mother died for it. He listened to Obi Wan and Yoda, and to a larger degree that he won’t admit to Palpatine - only for Padmé to abandon him anyway. For Padmé, Obi Wan, and eventually also Ahsoka, to turn him down.

Vader is jaded at this point, and he has the Empire to show for the fact that his new heartless, cruel tactics are bearing fruit. The Imperial persecution of naysayers and Jedi sympathizers has been working, they have successfully scared their people into silence. Killing them with kindness didn’t work out, and thus, Vader goes in the opposite direction. By intimidation tactics, by dirty tricks and schemes, he makes sure that he is not respected but feared. Because if people are afraid of you, they won’t dare to take a stand. If people are afraid of you, they won’t turn down your presumed authority. If they fear for their lives, or even more important the lives of those whom they love - you can bend them to your will every which way.

This is what Vader has picked up from Palpatine - although he was always leaning a bit in that direction - and it may be a skewed and distorted world view, but it has proven itself to be working. Hence, Anakin who was never a truly compassionate man to begin with as much as he stuck up for those he loved, for fear of being abandoned or betrayed, has shed his skin. He has abandoned the pretense and the attempts to please everyone, to always be subservient to others. Of course, he is in every sense of the word still a slave to Palpatine’s whims - but that comes down to his disregard for his own person, as well as the underlying guilt that has him thinking continuously that he deserves nothing less.

Whatever you may say, or think, of Rebels - it did do Vader justice.

The developers made him frightening, reiterated the fact that he is a villain - something that has been expanded upon by the comics, Rogue One and Fallen Order. Vader cares for no one and nothing except serving his master, as Palpatine is the sole surviving person he has left in this world to attach himself to. Anakin, and thus Vader, cannot exist without a person to be obsessed with, or to depend entirely upon. This is why he allows himself to be manipulated by Palpatine, and used as a pawn. He has no one else, and he doesn’t trust himself to know what to do if he were to be entirely free.

Vader is a tragedy, but he is also a menace. And this is one of the brilliant little moments in which Rebels manages to remind us of that fact.

(Repost from old acc)

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silverflqmes · 3 years

Text

໒⦂ 𝐃𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂 𝐇𝐂𝐒.

notes. yes i’m in my feels && i really just need this baby to wrap those strong ass arms of his around me while he whispers sweet nothings into my ear please🥺

genre. fluff + college au!

notes. istg if i don’t stop crying about this man🧍‍♂️

tooru oikawa x fem!reader.

⌗ you two share a playlist together on spotify that you both add to every now and then

⌗ a lot of the songs on vary between really upbeat / vibe ones and then lofi / mellow ones; y’all have it organized so it’s split in half😭

⌗ you mainly keep it for when you’re away from one another and just need comfort without having to ask the other if it’s too late into the night or they’re busy

⌗ STAR WARS MARATHONS 24/7

⌗ oikawa likes the prequels a lot and the clone wars cuz anakin’s his favorite and he feels inspired by him🥺

⌗ “y/n-chan he’s just so cool!! did you see the part when he jumped off his speeder to find that bounty hunter?!!”

⌗ “tooru-san.. we’ve seen these movies at least a million times each-”

⌗ “y/n-channnn🥺”

⌗ “.. okay fine!! yes, i did see it!”

⌗ his inner fanboy really comes out😭

⌗ the two of you can manage cooking- but tooru usually offers to cook more for the two of you

⌗ in return, he expects homemade baked goods from you cough, milkbread.

⌗ HE LOVES CUDDLING DHDJSKS LOVES ANY KINDS OF HUGS TOOOO

⌗ his favorites are back hugs cuz he just loves suprising you with his arms around your waist, chin resting on either your head or shoulder. he also nuzzles a lot eeeeek

⌗ likewise, you often give him back hugs too. like whenever he cooks and you just walk up to him and place your head by the center of his back- or well, wherever your height reaches him😭 and you just hug him so tightly.

⌗ honestly you both just find comfort in these actions. sometimes one of you could be down and you don’t wanna say it so you just do this to make things easier <3

⌗ in bed though, he’s the bigger spoon! but he doesn’t mind being the smaller one every now and then- he likes when you just cling onto him like a koala bear 🥺

⌗ usually oikawa��s the first to wake up since he goes for early morning jogs

⌗ for awhile he’ll just sit and admire your sleeping features before eventually getting ready for his jog

⌗ on occasion though, he’ll sometimes do a late night jog so he can sleep in with you the next morning-

⌗ on these days, the first to wake up is you😃

⌗ just like he admires you in your sleep, you’ll do the same to him. maybe brush a few strands out of his face and bring yourself close to him

⌗ i feel like tooru would be a heavy sleeper, so he won’t really wake up so easily; he might stir a bit or pull you closer to him❤️

⌗ although- sometimes he does wake up and just fakes it to tease you hxjskskskdk

⌗ BATHS TOGETHER DHDJSK

⌗ it can either be sexual or non sexual- but since this is sfw i won’t go into much detail abt the nsfw one unless y’all want that👀

⌗ ANYWAYSSS- usually one of you would draw a bath for the other if they had a long or rough day. like if he lost a match or you came home after receiving a bad grade ( or him- he’s in school still so it’s possible )

⌗ you’ll put scented salts, light a few yankee candles, add bubbles, dim the lights a bit, and just sink in together

⌗ if the mood is a little more upbeat- you’ll put music on as well <3

⌗ but yeah, the two of you would usually just sit together for a bit, talk, wash the other, kiss, cuddle; cute stuff like that y’know?

⌗ afterwards, usually the two of you just plop on your couch together and watch a bit of tv before passing out together

⌗ GHIBLI MOVIES!! oikawa loves ponyo the most😭 from up on poppy hill is also a favorite of his eeeek <3

⌗ sometimes your resting on his chest- on top of him basically

⌗ other times it’s him resting on you, which you oddly don’t really mind🤲

⌗ he’s naturally really warm so either works for you as long as you’re close to him <3

⌗ LOTS OF HAND HOLDING

⌗ tooru feels so comforted by holding your hand omg- like wherever you are or even at home, he’ll just randomly slip his fingers in between yours and squeeze your hand- and you’ll squeeze his back as a reassurance that you’re there for him.

⌗ honestly he just feels comforted knowing that you’re there and he can be close to you whenever

⌗ he’s naturally really clingy and just yearns for touch and your love

⌗ he’s very cheesy😭 always calling you by cutesy nicknames and trying out typical romantic tropes, but you love them😋

⌗ when he comes home sore from practice, you’ll offer to massage him or help him stretch a bit if his muscles are tense

⌗ you hate seeing him hurt so you try to help him in any way possible ++ scolding cuz he’s gotta stop overworking himself👨‍🦯

⌗ sometimes you gotta call iwa over to talk some sense into him🐕

⌗ “what did he do this time?”

⌗ “he sprained his knee again.”

⌗ “rude y/n-chan, rude! i told you not to tell iwa-channnnn!!!”

⌗ hajime’s not as gentle as you are with tooru.. he’s more of the tough love kinda guy oop-

⌗ the two of you help each other with school! sometimes you practice together for tests or help one another with homework and assignments

⌗ he’s honestly happy to help you whenever; he somewhat gets an ego boost.. but he just adores when you come to him asking for help, you’re just too cute for him!!

⌗ of course if you’re gonna be with oikawa, get used to taking pictures every five minutes🧎‍♂️

⌗ stargazing!! tooru loves sitting under the stars where it’s just the two of you and the deep ebony sky blanketed in all sorts of stars, planets and constellations❤️

⌗ “y/n-chan, do you think there are aliens up there? OH- do you think naboo is somewhere up there too??! we can go to the lake country like the movie and fall in love all over again!! we can get married there too!”

⌗ ugh he’s so cute hdjsksksks

notes. yeah❤️ i dunno gurl he put me in my feelings last night and after i found this cute playlist on youtube called “falling in love with oikawa tooru” i just melted😭

↳ return to main masterlist . request rules . send an ask

#— ; 🏹 ) haikyuu fics.#— ; 🏹 ) aoba johsai.#tooru oikawa #missing oikawa hrs❤️#oikawa x reader #hq #haikyuu #oikawa headcanons #oikawa #tooru #i love him so much ugh #oikawa fluff

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starwarsimagines1105 · 3 years

Text

Loving Memories AS

Requested by @scarlettmistress :Request with a Jedi reader and sith Anakin where order 66 is executed and he spares her. And while he’s leaving he thinks of their past relationship?

Warning: Cursing

You sprinted out of the Jedi Temple’s library, holding a hologram of Master Yoda in the palm of your hand. “What do you mean, the clones are going rogue?” you interrogated.

“Turned on us, the clones have. Orders from sith, they are taking. Protect, you must, the young Padawans,” Yoda ordered.

“Yes, Master,” you obeyed.

“May the force be with you, Knight Y/N.”

“May the force be with you, Master Yoda.” You saw him nod before you turned off the hologram. With your hands now free, you sprinted as fast as you could to the young Padawan dormitories. There you saw Master Helbon. “Master Helbon!” you called, running towards him. “Master Yoda has informed me the clones are turning on the Jedi. he suspects it’s being prompted by the sith and that we need to get them to safety.” Helbon nodded, turning to the doors on the right side of the hallway, while you turned to the ones on the left. You opened each door, finding young Jedi in their bunks. “Get up, get dressed, and when you’re done, stand outside your door and stay quiet,” you emphasized the last part. You said that as you opened each dormitory, quickly closing it to move onto the next one.

Soon enough, there were young Jedi lining the halls, ready to go. Master Helbon stood next to you, his nearly seven foot frame towering over you. It surprises most people when they learn that this giant of a man loves children, but he’s very good with them. “Everyone get into two straight lines, we’ll be going to the Council Chambers,” his booming voice ordered.

“I’ll take the back, you take the front and lead the way,” you said to Helbon. He nodded, leading the way with his saber drawn while you stepped to the back, also drawing your saber.

As you and a group of 10 Padawans walked through the Temple’s hallways, you realized just how quiet it was. Most Jedi masters had gone off to fight, and you suspected many of them were already dead. Then you remembered the one person you should have been thinking of the entire time, Anakin. You and Anakin had been involved for nearly a year, and you had no idea where he was or if he was even alive. Had the sith who killed Windu killed Anakin too, or was he on the battlefield getting shot at my clones? You pushed those thoughts away as best as you could, continuing to look around for any threats.

The group made it to the Council Chambers, where you and Helbon ushered the children in. “Now you, go. I’ll stay and guard the doors,” Helbon ordered.

“What? No, either come in with me or I’ll stay out with you,” you countered.

“Y/N, it is my sworn duty to protect them and I can do that best out here. They need someone to comfort them and I need you to do that,” he reasoned.

You sighed, “Yes, Master.” You walked into the room, sealing the doors after giving the older Jedi a nod of reassurance.

You had no clue how long it had been. Maybe an hour? But the kids were getting antsy, and you had heard nothing from any other Jedi. You had briefly entertained them with training and you lifting them into the air with the Force but nothing lasted long. You had even told them the story of how Anakin and you had taken out 50 or so battle droids, of course omitting the part where Anakin kissed you and told you he loved you for the billionth time.

Finally you heard something, but it wasn’t good. You heard Helbon yell something before a lightsaber was ignited. Then, silence. You ordered all the young Padawans to get behind you as you ignited your saber and the doors were thrust open. “Anakin?” you interrogated. You were so glad to see him alive and you thought he was coming to help you, but then you caught sight of Master Helbon’s body in the background. “Anakin, what are you doing?”

“It’s Darth Vader now,” he informed you. “Now, Y/N, move aside. I don’t want to kill you, but I must complete my destiny.”

“No, Anakin. What is wrong with you? You joined the sith? An,” you used his nickname, “they’re evil and they’ve blinded you.”

“The Jedi are evil. I’m sorry,” he said simply before casting you into the wall. You hit the glass, fortunately it didn’t crack and send you falling to your death. You hit the floor, but before you could get up, an unseen force pinned you to the wall. You watched in horror, screaming the entire time as Anakin sealed the chamber door and slaughtered all the young children.

You sobbed when Anakin was done. He approached you, dropping to his knee and taking your chin in his hand. “I love you, Y/N, come with me. You and I can rule the galaxy together,” he offered.

“This isn’t love and I don’t want to be a sith,” you spat the last word.

Anakin’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line. “Very well then,” he said, standing up. “I guess this is goodbye,” he spoke in a dark voice.

That was the last thing you remembered before your world went black.

Anakin’s POV

When I first entered those Council Chambers, the love of my life was there, standing in between me and my destiny. Y/N was simultaneously the first and last person I wanted to see. She’s the light in my darkness and my favorite person, the person I wanted to cuddle and be with. But she was also the worst person for me to see today. She’s my light, the light that needed to be smothered by darkness for me to fulfill my destiny. “The Jedi are evil,” I told her, “I’m sorry,” I said before throwing her into the window, pinning her there so she couldn’t stop me.

Looking into her teary, E/C eyes was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I offered her the chance to rule with me and told her I love her, but she still said no. My heart cracked when I knocked her out, knowing she’d wake up the only survivor surrounded by the bodies of children.

As I made my way out of the chamber, I thought about our relationship. How we met.

We were just kids when we met. I joined Y/N’s class for my first few years of a Padawan before Obi-Wan began to train me personally. She was the only one to make me feel accepted. We ate together and played together and whenever we could, trained together.

We didn’t see each other for a while, both of us off with our own Masters until we were about 16. I remember doing a double take. She had grown so much and become so beautiful. Of course when we were little kids she was beautiful by little kids standards, but now she was drop dead gorgeous.

I remembered our first mission together.

We walked through the small village on Axins, searching for a slave trader. Y/N and I were paired together while our masters did the same. Y/N and I walked past a stand when she spotted our trader standing in a booth. She elbowed me gently, before nodding subtly at him. I nodded back, going behind the booth just in case.

She had done so well. She ended up jumping over the stand and running through the entire village trying to catch the guy and when she finally did it was so badass.

The first time we kissed.

It was when she had been injured. A droid got her in the shoulder. When she arrived back at the temple, she assured me she was fine and that she had been patched up. I was still panicking, pacing around wondering if something went wrong and she’d drop dead any second. And she calmed me down.

“Anakin, I’m fine,’ she had repeated for the millionth time.

“But what if the medical droids missed something or if that was a directed attack and they’ll come back and try to kill you again,” I suggested for the millionth time.

She just rolled her eyes and stood up, placing her good hand on my jaw and connecting her lips to mind. I was astonished, but I quickly regained my senses and pressed my lips to hers while placing my hands on her hip and waist, enjoying every second.

The first time we said ‘I love you.’

We were laying in my room on my bed. I was laying normally on the bed while her head rested on my stomach and her legs dangled. I felt bad as I laughed because her head was bouncing every time my stomach moved, but she didn’t seem to mind. She was also laughing hysterically. “I love you,” I said through my laugh.

She stopped. “What did you just say?” she interrogated. She flipped off my stomach and moved so she was laying next to me, propped up on her arms.

“I said I love you, and I’m not afraid to admit it,” I stated boldly. Although I was a little scared she’d run out of the room screaming.

Then a smile graced itself on her face. “I love you too,” she admitted. She leaned down, pressing her lips to mine while I pulled her on top of me.

My mind was haunted with these memories as I made my way out of the Jedi Temple. When I arrived on an Imperial Ship, my mind was plagued with these memories. These memories of us and my love for Y/N L/N plagued my mind until the second I took my last breath.

Taglist

@algentforthewin @fanartcollectorwriter @randomfangirl7 @amberash05 @elizzysnow13 @vikingqueen28 @rhiannon-russo @mackycat11

#star wars #star wars imagines #Anakin Skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

feelin’ like a woman

pairing: hardcase / reader

word count: 4322

summary: you’re desperate to go somewhere where proper conduct isn’t expected, and you perk up at hearing about a clone-friendly bar called 79’s. fox gets protective over you and his worry only increases when the object of your affections is a member of the five-oh-first.

warnings: implied smut, the reader and hardcase are thirsty af, that along with the drinking makes me think rated m is most accurate for this fic

“come on, padme! i need someone to come with me!”

“you seem to forget that i’m painted on the sides of several of their ships, any clone would pick me out from a crowd just as quickly as my husband could.”

“then let them enjoy a night with the highly esteemed senator fighting for their rights as people!”

“that’s why you’re going, is it not?”

you groan in defeat, flopping onto padme’s bed theatrically. that was the exact opposite of why you were going. you were indeed an avid fighter for the rights of the clones, but you didn’t have the notoriety that padme did. no, you were planning on going to 79’s to let loose and drink people under the table without shame and have enough fun to satiate future boredom at the upcoming senator’s gala.

“you can have a disguise, or claim to be a body double for the former queen of naboo!”

padme rolled her eyes at the idea. “any member of the coruscant guard will see through that immediately. and speaking of, aren’t you going to need one of those disguises you’re so keen on making me wear?”

“nah, i’m not as popular as you, my friend. i don’t think i’ll be picked out as quick as you would be, or even at all.”

“but i’ve heard that anakin and his men have returned from their last campaign. surely some of their men would recognize you after your rescue from separatist lines a few months ago.”

“lucky for me that the men in blue aren’t snitches.”

--------

you were mostly right about not being widely known.

fox, when he saw you in a dress much tighter and shorter than anything he’s ever seen you wear, nearly had a stroke. at first he tried to blame the glass of unknown substance shoved into his hand by someone in the 327th for making him hallucinate stewjon’s senator wearing a scandalous dress while drinking at a clone bar. then he heard your voice when you asked for stewjoni scotch, and he knew for certain it was you.

his steps were fast and wide as he approached you, a hand gripping your arm almost vice-like to keep you from pulling away. “senator, what do you think you’re doing here?!” he spoke through clenched teeth akin to the way parents chastised their children in public.

“what i’m doing, foxy boy,” you smirk as the bartender sets the bottle and two glasses before you, “is getting shitfaced.” he filled both glasses, extending one towards the commander of the coruscant guard. he didn’t pick up the glass (which you expected) so you picked up yours, clinking the transparisteel against his chestplate with a wry smile.

fox does not approve of this, not at all. but he loosens his grip slightly because he’s aware of how that could possibly be twisted against him if the wrong person saw him. “do you have any idea how dangerous it is for you to be here, senator? you could have been murdered or kidnapped on the trip here, and a drunken senator would be quite easy to take advantage of after half a bottle of this scotch.”

he was worried about you, which was really sweet of the overworked commander (although quite unfounded because you were surrounded by soldiers of the republic, you’d be fine). you had enough faith in their morals to know if anyone got too handsy, clone or otherwise, one of them would defend your honor.

“my friend, you seem to forget that i was born and raised around this stuff,” you raised the drink to your lips and downed it in record time as you continued. “it might as well be in my blood at this point, foxy. but could you do me a favor and refrain from exposing my position? it’ll ruin my chances of any fun, and that would mean i’d have to leave the relative safety of dozens of soldiers.”

fox was resigned to his fate. you did have a fair point, he can monitor (protect) you much better when in a clone-friendly bar than he could in a place where he wasn’t even allowed inside because of his clone status. guess you were staying here.

“well not every brother in here has the same respect for women, sena-“ he cuts himself off and is unsure of how to address you without the title. fox was rightly worried about addressing you by your name. names were near-sacred to him and his brothers, and they held the same power to those in high positions of power like you were. would you be comfortable trusting him with something so precious as a name?

you pick up on his trepidation and immediately give him permission to call you by your first name (again), your other hand grabbing the untouched scotch and downing it with practiced speed. it isn’t like you haven’t been friends with fox since the first time he was assigned to float with your protection team, and you trusted him with your life. he wouldn’t take it lightly and most definitely would be professional whenever decorum was called for.

“alright y/n,” fox’s mouth wrapped around your name with calculated hesitance, almost doubting whether you had even given him permission in the first place. “from now until tomorrow, or as long as we’re in this bar, i’ll only address you as y/n, a random civvie that came to drink with a few soldiers.” the second time he spoke your name it was with a bit more confidence and a twinge of humor.

you brought a hand to the bar top with two rapid hits, drawing the attention of the bartender. the man took the hint and refilled the glasses in front of you both. before he could walk away, you grabbed one of them and gently slammed it back onto the bar, the bartender once again refilling it with the amber liquid.

it was almost comical, the way fox’s eyebrows shot up at the speed with which you took the third helping of scotch. “oh i’m here to do a lot more than drink, my friend,” you grin widely and rest an arm on his shoulder. “i’m here to party!”

the words had been out of your mouth for mere seconds when a clone with blue paint on his armor and inked onto his face approached your right side that was unoccupied by your favorite member of the coruscant guard.

the geometric blue on his armor clearly distinguished him as five-oh-first material, but you had never met this particular soldier before. he had a wild side to him, that much was obvious with the loud confidence he used when he invited you to hang out with him and his group toward the back.

there were a couple familiar faces occupying the booth he gestured to and you grinned at the sight of a cog-headed man downing a shot of something purple. it had been too long since you had seen jesse and co. and you figured that since you were here to party, who better to do it with than some of the rowdiest clones in the gar?

this was another thing fox didn’t like, and the list seemed to only be growing. many of the men under rex’s command had a well-known reputation for being something far less than tame. the idea of his friend (apparently you considered him a friend and it would only be fair of him to do the same since he was now given permission to do so) getting “shitfaced” with the loud men worried him.

they were vode, there was no reason for him to fear for your safety.

your manicured hand came to pat his cheek with affection, bidding him a farewell and directions to find you if he needed you. the other trooper grinned as he offered his hand, lacing his fingers with yours as he guided you to where his closest brothers sat.

fox grabbed the remaining glass of scotch and downed it the same way you had. it was gonna be a long night.

--------

when hardcase returned to the booth with you as his plus one, every head turned (echo and rex choked on their drinks as well) once they identified you.

“jesse! long time no see!”

“y/n! wouldn’t have pegged you for a 79’s kind’a girl, good to see ya!”

“senator y/n! you look stunning as always!”

“why thank you fives, but you know that flattery won’t get your hands anywhere closer to where you wanna put ‘em.”

laughter bounded from everyone around hardcase as you slid into the booth next to jesse, your interlaced hand pulling him next to you.

he was stunned. he had just invited a senator to his table with that much confidence and she actually followed him? a senator?! that knew his brothers?! how did she recognize fives and jesse (and presumably everyone else) in the first place?! part of him hoped the honorific was an inside joke he wasn’t privy to but common sense paired with the way echo and rex choked at the sight of you told him that you actually held that title.

it didn’t take a genius to know where exactly fives wanted his hands to go and the fact you didn’t lose your shit at the implications had hardcase reeling. what kind of senator were you? apparently a fun one, if the finesse you held when downing the scotch earlier held any weight to the idea.

“you know me too well, gorgeous.”

“knowing you at all is too much for anyone, fives.”

your laugh at echo’s snarky comment was loud and without inhibition and hardcase loved it. you were a breath of fresh air, something warm and bright amidst the murky, choking cloud that was the war and he wanted you to stay next to him as long as you were willing.

kix returned to the booth loaded down with drinks and was pleasantly surprised to see you laughing it up with hardcase and the others at something said that (what he correctly guessed) was at fives’s expense. you greeted the medic with a grin, quickly extending a hand towards him that he quickly filled with a brown bottle.

before you could open it and take a sip, jesse gently nudged your side with an elbow. an eyebrow quirked up as he gestured to his bottle and then to yours, and you quickly understood what he wanted to do.

“you’re on, jess.”

everyone else at the table (minus hardcase and tup, the only other man at the table you didn’t know prior to tonight) knew what was going to happen now. with an amused sigh, kix resigned himself to having to deal with an insanely drunk jesse later tonight as the latter opened his bottle and set it in front of him, waiting for the countdown. being the designated vodsitter was a necessary nuisance because they clearly couldn’t be trusted to get themselves back to the barracks safely.

fives began the countdown at three, a hand smacking the table with each number before shouting “go!” you and jesse quickly snatched your drinks from the tabletop and began chugging at a speed hardcase hadn’t seen a civvie (well, non-clone) drink with.

hardcase couldn’t help his eyes from wandering down your body as a couple drops escaped the corner of your lips, slowly making a path down your exposed neck and chest and disappearing into your dress. there had never a been a time he wished he was a tiny droplet of beer, but tonight had him thinking that he’d be content with such an existence if it guaranteed him gliding down your body the way your beer did.

damn his mind was weird sometimes.

he was pulled from his thoughts at a victory yell emitting from your throat, an empty bottle banging against the table. jesse’s head was in his hands, a playful groan making itself known at his now apparent loss.

you beat jesse?! he was the champion!

guess not anymore.

you playfully half-bowed at the cheers of the rest of the table’s occupants before wiping the corner of your mouth with a thumb. what he didn’t expect was the way you licked the tiny bit of beer away from the tip, or the way he felt something stir in his abdomen at the sight of your tongue flicking out for a brief second. did you know you had this affect on him?

conversation came back for a few minutes, everyone joking around and having a great time. you were going on about something to do with the ryloth senator’s bothersome lack of ability to shut up when you cut yourself off mid-sentence, seeming to notice something the others didn’t.

“y/n, what-“

you hold a finger up to silence him and after another couple seconds, your eyes light up at the familiar tune beginning to play from the music box in the corner by the dance floor.

“hardcase, move your ass! i love this song!” he quickly does as you ask, secretly relishing the way it feels when you lightly push him out. what would your hands feel like on him without his pesky armor in the way?

you’re barely out of the booth when a female waitress approaches you with another brown bottle the same as the one you finished off a while earlier.

“the three gentlemen from the three-twenty-seventh enjoyed your little show earlier, wanted to see if you’d do it again.” you could hear the eye roll in her voice, seeming a bit bothered for you at the gall the men she pointed to had.

you shot her a sympathetic smile before sending a flirty wink towards the men who bought you the drink, taking it from her hands with a flourish. she seemed to visibly relax when you were nonchalant about the whole thing, turning to go back to work.

if they wanted a show, they’d get one.

it took a tiny hop on your part to get yourself sitting on the table, being careful to avoid spilling the drinks of your blue-painted friends. you crossed one leg over the other as you sent a small salute with the bottle toward the table before bringing it to your lips. the liquid sent a warm burning sensation to your throat, and you tilted your head back with an almost seductive elegance.

another couple drops escaped your lips and followed a path similar to the prior bottle’s contents, and hardcase was once again enraptured at the sight. when the bottle was empty, you hopped off the table and set the bottle down. now that you had a few drinks in you and a great song was playing through the bar, it was time to dance.

hungry eyes burned into your body as you made your way to the dance floor. you knew there were a couple five-oh-first boys eyeing you as well as the three men who gifted you the last drink. disguising your curiosity as a flirty twirl to the song, you spun and took a head count of your admirers.

at least eight soldiers’ eyes were glued to you, the men having varying motives as to why you had their attention.

fox was casually nursing another glass of scotch at the bar but that nonchalance didn’t fool you. if you gave even the tiniest indication that you were less than comfortable with something, the guardsman would immediately come to your aid. it was the calculated calm that one would see in predators in the wild and you were thankful fox was on your side.

you didn’t pay much mind to the three-twenty-seventh members that sent the second bottle your way outside of knowing that they were watching you. the battalion was familiar to you only by name and paint color, and you weren’t looking to get chummy with men from a group whose commanding officer you weren’t well acquainted with.

tup, who you had discovered was the youngest of the blue men group you were drinking with tonight, was in absolute awe. he’d seen plenty of women who were able to fake a confidence like yours, but yours wasn’t even the slightest bit artificial. your name has popped up among the men with stories of how you were shooting down clankers right along with the five-oh-first during your rescue from seppie space. the fact you were as wild as the stories led him to believe was startling and quite validating.

most of your blue-clad companions were watching your departure the same way they’d watch a commando kick ass: with excitement and barely-contained anticipation. it was entertainment to them. they knew that you knew about the lingering eyes on you. you were just playing the part of the naive but sexy party girl that wanted nothing more than to drink and dance.

what you pretended to want was mostly true, but you had a more concrete goal in mind now than you did when you first arrived: your new goal was to jump the bones of a certain tatted heavy gunner.

a blind man could see the heart eyes hardcase has been throwing at you since he approached you at the bar. the trooper was everything but subtle in his enthusiasm to please you. the lust in his eyes as they roamed your body reminded you of the drought you’d been stuck in for far too long, senator work not leaving much time for the finer pleasures life has to offer the bold.

there was a tall and vibrant pitcher of water in blue paint that you hoped would be more than willing to flood your desert later tonight. maybe if you played your cards right and made your intentions known things would go your way.

only one way to find out.

among the cards was a little extra sway to your hips as you walked and a half-spin, urging him to follow you to the dance floor with a wink.

his brothers were encouraging him to get up and go, but he was suddenly nervous about you for the first time tonight. did you really want to dance with him? he didn’t think so. you were absolutely phenomenal and he wasn’t even an arc trooper, what would you want with him?

doubts were shoved away from his head when you went back to the booth and pulled him from his seat, a wide smile gracing your features. fives, tup, echo, and jesse drunkenly hollered in celebration of his good fortune as you laced a hand in one of his and he swore to the maker that he could never forget the way your hand felt in his.

once you found a prime spot on the floor, you turned to face hardcase and pulled him closer to you. your hands made their way to the nape of his neck and your hips began to sway. the trooper took the hint and his hands moved down your body and came to rest comfortably on your waist.

did all clones have such large hands? if so, how did you not notice that pleasant physical feature earlier? more importantly, would they feel as large as they did now when spreading you open for him before absolutely railing you the way you hoped he would?

the song continued and with it went what little structure your dancing had. hardcase was right on board with it, the two of you dancing like fools just enjoying each other’s company. you laughed as he playfully twirled you out of the blue and wow, his smile is dazzling. he was laughing right along with you and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make him more attractive than he already was.

then he pulled you closer, chest flush with his. callused hands returned to your body and traveled lower and lower, one resting on your ass while the other pressed into the small of your back. his eyes became softer as he lowered his head, whispering a question of consent, whether it was okay for his hands to have gone so far down your figure.

it was endearing you even more to the mirthful soldier and if you weren’t careful- oh who were you kidding? you were too far gone to contemplate what it meant for you to have something so intimate with a trooper and frankly, you didn’t care now the same way you wouldn’t in the morning.

he was flesh and blood and dazzling smiles and playful jokes, and you wanted to continue being the reason he smiled so wide. you had half a mind to send a holopic of your lips on hardcase’s to the longneck senator burtoni just to piss her off because look at this man, he was spectacular and you dared anyone to imply that he was anything less.

you were snapped back to the man in front of you when his hand kneaded your ass in the most heavenly way possible, not even bothering to conceal the soft moan that worked its way out of your throat. there was no way hardcase didn’t hear it, not with how he tensed for just a brief moment before doing it again with both hands just to see what you’d do.

another moan added emphasis to your growing arousal, slightly louder than the last one but still quiet enough that the dancing strangers on almost every side couldn’t hear.

hardcase grinned like a loth-cat at the sound. he couldn’t believe his night was going so wonderfully and for a brief, blissful moment he forgot that he’d have to leave 79’s before the end of the night and in three days’ time, return to the front lines.

the harsh slap of reality obliterated what little jitters and anxiety he had about you on the spot. he tightened his hold on you before asking for permission to kiss you the way he’d wanted to since you sat down next to him.

the reply you granted him was simple enough and got the point across with zero chance for it to be twisted the way some fellow senators would twist the words of themselves and others. honesty and openness were rare in politics but they were abundant when hardcase was this close to you, and they only grew in size as your lips collided with his.

you could taste the beer on his tongue and something else you didn’t recognize that had you hungry for more. it was sweet and strong and distinctly hardcase and oh fierfek, if his mouth was this good right now, imagine how skilled it’d be when-

rough kneading elicited another moan that wasn’t as private as the others, your mind storing away the humorous sight of a couple veering their path away from you and hardcase’s affection in thinly veiled disgust.

“is there somewhere we can go for a bit more privacy?” the aroused timbre of his voice was something you weren’t prepared for and if he hadn’t been holding you so tight against him, you were confident in the assumption you’d have melted to the spot.

but the implications didn’t lose their intended effect; in fact, quite the opposite. you pulled him in for another kiss and this time, decided to push yourself against the codpiece of his armour, see how he’d respond.

there was something almost primal in the noise he made and you were desperate to hear it again. you repeated the motion and received the same response, deciding to answer the pressing question he posed as he relished in the pressure you were giving him. “i can get us into a hotel in the middle levels where no one would know me, see what happens from there.”

the confidence in his next words struck you like lightning. “i think we both know what’s gonna happen from there, sweetheart.” his lips began setting a path along your jaw and down your neck, pausing only to lightly bite the soft skin resting above your collarbone.

“what are we waiting for, then?”

hardcase’s tongue lapped at the spot his teeth just released for a moment before lifting his eyes to yours. “a cab to get us the kriff outta here.”

he (almost unwillingly) detached himself from your body and intertwined his fingers with yours, smiling as you guide each other towards the exit and right by your former table. as predicted by hardcase, his vode that were still conscious drunkenly shouted their congratulations and reminders about protection.

you laughed right along with them for a moment, bidding them a good night and safe trip home.

before getting to the bar doors you paused. fox would want to know that you were safe, and you’d feel immensely guilty for letting your friend needlessly worry. scanning the bar, he wasn’t at his previous spot and you cursed for a moment before finding another trooper with red paint, telling them to pass along a message.

they nodded and turned to do so, at which point you pulled hardcase closer to you and emerged from the doors hand in hand.

a speeder cab nearly passed you up, jerking to a stop at the loud whistle of hardcase. another thing his mouth could do. interesting.

the cabbie asked where you wanted to go, your answer sounding almost out of breath since hardcase thought that mid-conversation was the perfect time to slide his hands up the exposed skin of your thigh. never had you been grateful for the solid divider that isolated cabbie from passenger before this moment.

at the end of the night, you both had predictions turn into truths; hardcase was correct in guessing what exactly would transpire between the two of you, and his hands did feel as large as you hoped they would as he split you open with calculated ministrations before nailing you to the hotel bed.

#clone trooper hardcase #hardcase x reader #swtcw #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #clone trooper hardcase x reader #hardcase imagine #hardcase #clone trooper imagines #clone trooper x reader #fives is a shameless flirt #inspired by 'man! i feel like a woman!' by shania twain #guys i love hardcase #jj writes

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ilonga · 4 years

Text

The Phantom Menace in my Avatar Au

posting it separately for organization purposes!!

here’s an overview of the avatar au:

https://ilonga.tumblr.com/post/626261708362727424/star-warsavatar-au

you can find snippets, asks, and more info under the tag “star wars/avatar au” on my tumblr!!

anyways, here it is:

So Anakin lived with Shmi in a poor Earth nation village filled with workers like them and more or less owned by the earthbender Watto. The workers (farmers, for the most part) only got to keep a little of their share for themselves and were basically terrorised by Watto day and night. Watto considered the workers below him and enjoyed lauding his power over them and making them suffer. He used his earthbending to intimidate and terrify them (pinning them down in the Earth when they displeased him, on one notable occasion throwing a rock down on someone’s arm and crippling them for life). If he was displeased with someone, he’d often pin their arms and legs in rock and leave them there, with no food or water, until his whims were satisfied and he let them out.

One of Anakin’s earliest memories was trying to sneak his mother food and water the countless times it happened to her (it happened to him once, too, and he’d never been so terrified in his life).

Save Anakin and one older woman who was an airbender, there were no other benders in that village. Both hid it for fear of what Watto would do to them if he found out (they could have been separated from their families, maybe, or used for much more dangerous or difficult tasks. On a much darker note, if Watto was in a particularly bad mood, he might have tried to cripple and kill them so they couldn’t inspire or help the workers fight back).

Watto, raised in a rich family, had decided against joining Raava’s Order at a young age, a decision that his father (who also tyrannised the workers in a similar way) supported. He enjoyed the fruits of his workers labor and lived rather lavishly if anything.

So that was their early life.

Padme Amidala, a nonbender and daughter of Jobal, a leader of the Northern Water tribe, was about twelve or thirteen years old when the vicious spirit Maul began terrorising her people. She was a talented archer and hated feeling helpless more than anything. So when representatives of Raava’s Order Qui-gon Jinn and Obi-wan Kenobi came to aid the Water Tribes and track down and defeat the spirit, she snuck along with them as they were tracking Maul. Obi-wan was around nineteen or twenty at the time and considered a tremendously talented waterbender, and Qui-gon Jinn, just like in canon, was quite unorthodox and independent. The two had a healthier relationship than in canon (Qui-gon had accepted and wanted Obi-wan as his apprentice right away rather than the somewhat cruel back and forth that happened in canon).

When they figure out that Padme snuck along, Qui-gon’s rather worried and Obi-wan rather annoyed, but she really is a talented archer and a talented diplomat, and she wins them over quickly enough. Qui-gon can’t help but think she reminds him of a young Obi-wan, and Obi-wan himself at the very least admires her determination.

So. They’re tracking the spirit Maul, who eventually leads him to the isolated village where Anakin and his mother live. They lose track of him (he probably disappears into the surrounding forest) and they seek lodging at the village until they draw Maul out and defeat him. Anakin, who is about ten or eleven at the time, notices them first and takes them to his mother, who in turn directs them to Watto. Anakin doesn’t reveal his bending to them immediately, although it’s clear they suspect something, and once he realizes that they’re from the Order, he has a heated discussion with his mother about it.

“Mom, they could help us,” he says, thinking of Watto and how if anyone would be able to subdue him, it’d be benders of Raava’s Order. He’s cautious, of course, but they’re not earthbenders so they can’t be that bad, can they? And that girl, Padme, was really pretty…

“No,” his mother says, thinking of how Watto’s family has been in power for generations and they always manage to escape the suspicion of outsiders, “but they could help you.”

Watto, on the other hand, is simultaneously thrilled that such important people are visiting, but worried at being found out. So he makes no secret of his earthbending but curbs his visible cruelty and covertly threatens the workers not to let a word of it slip.

So Qui-gon, Obi-wan, and Padme find lodging within the workers’ huts (Watto kicks some workers out of there and moves them into others’ huts because of course he does, which they’re not aware of) and Anakin reveals his bending to them. And they’re excited because a new possible member of Raava’s Order!! But also, alarm bells are going off in their heads because why is this kid so secretive about it and why does he feel he needs to hide his firebending?

They talk to Shmi, and they notice that both her and Anakin avoid talking about Watto entirely, although Anakin’s facial expressions and body language are a lot more expressive. But they notice Shmi’s bruises, and they notice the way both of them tend to subtly flinch whenever Watto, work, or even bending is mentioned. So now they have two things they’re worrying about: Maul, and the condition of the workers in this town (none of that “I didn’t come here to free the slaves” stuff this time around; they’re openly worried, and if there’s something wrong, they want to do something about it). And also, they start to care about the two. Obi-wan takes a liking to Anakin more or less immediately, and Shmi is so kind and so steadfast that the three of them can’t help but admire her.

The next day, Obi-wan and Qui-gon start tracking Maul again. Padme stays behind in the village to observe. Anakin and Padme bond a bit (in a friendly way, definitely not romantically (although maybe slight crushes are involved?)–they’re kids!! ok!! and since there’s way less of an age difference they can just be kids together, enjoying each other’s company). Anakin shows off the tricks he’s managed to teach himself in secret over the years. Padme shows off her archery. They bond over the whole “I hate feeling helpless” spiel and caring a lot about their moms. And although Anakin doesn’t explicitly say it’s Watto he hates being helpless against, they both know who he’s talking about. Padme resolves to do something. That something, she decides, is talking circles around Watto until she can get him to admit to something so that her, Obi-wan, and Qui-gon can move against him openly.

In the meantime, night has fallen once Obi-wan and Qui-gon finally track Maul down. There’s a quick skirmish and they realize Maul is much more dangerous than they anticipated. Then the battle starts in earnest.

It’s long, and messy, and they’re exhausted and still fighting when the sun comes up. They’ve also been slowly getting closer and closer to the village as the battle goes on, and eventually they reach the village proper and now the workers are in danger too. There’s a lot of commotion and Watto comes out of his house (mansion, practically) to see what’s going on.

The three are fighting and Maul lands a hit on Qui-gon that knocks him out of commission, so now two things happen at once:

1) Anakin reveals his bending to the whole village (+Watto) when he steps in to ward off an attack from Maul

2) Maul’s next hit kills Qui-gon

So now, again, two things are happening at once. Obi-wan, furious, finishes off the duel with Maul and kills him (for good). Watto, on the other hand, having seen a demonstration of Anakin’s bending, is furious out of his mind. All thoughts of hiding his cruelty from the outsiders gone, he tries to hurt Anakin, probably alongside mad ravings about Anakin “threatening him”, “defying his power”, “how dare he”, and all that jazz.

It all happens so quickly. Watto throws a rock or something aiming for Anakin, Shmi pushes him out of the way, and Shmi gets trapped under the rock in Anakin’s place. It’s clear she isn’t going to survive. There’s a lot of yelling and reactions, from the village, from Obi-wan who’s still in shock from Qui-gon and Maul’s deaths, from Anakin who’s horrified and furious out of his mind. But Padme’s the one who acts first. She shoots an arrow at Watto, almost as soon as she sees what he’s going to do, and it lands through his heart right after Shmi is crushed.

So now they’re all in shock, yay!

Anyways, Shmi’s last words to Anakin are to go with the benders and Padme and to go learn from Raava’s Order, and that she’ll always be proud of him and loves him dearly. She also tells him to make sure Beru is taken care of and make sure Beru knows Shmi loved her.

Anakin promises.

Qui-gon’s last words to Obi-wan are that he’s proud of him, he loves him, and please take care of the people they’ve found that he’s leaving behind.

Watto has no last words. He dies alone and in shock at being defied for the first time in his life.

The next two days pass in a strange haze. The village is now free, for once in their life. They rebuild and heal, and they form a new leadership where everyone has a voice and no one will be abused again. Padme offers them refuge, should they want it, amongst the waterbenders, but most of them refuse. Beru tells Anakin he should go train with the Order, but that she’s staying here, at the village, with Owen and the others. He tells her to take care of herself and that Shmi loved her like her own daughter. There are tears.

Obi-wan, on the other hand, is grieving. Mostly for Qui-gon, but also for Shmi, the kind woman he’d only known for a few days. Anakin is the one who helps him stay sane and not spiral into his grief and guilt at not being able to defeat Maul before Qui-gon was killed, and Obi-wan helps him in turn with the same. The two bond, and Obi-wan swears to himself that he’ll take Anakin back to the Order and train him himself. He’s not leaving this kid behind.

So they have their funerals, and begin to head back (the shock’s still in place for the three of them, really). Padme and Anakin agree to stay in contact as much as they can, and Obi-wan takes Anakin to the order as Padme heads back home and reunites with her mother (who definitely has a lecture in store for her but is also rather proud). Obi-wan formally takes Anakin on as his apprentice, and though Raava’s Council certainly has questions about what the hell happened in that village, there isn’t so much of an overt objection to Anakin joining as there was in canon. The more traditionalist faction of the council is all “this isn’t how it’s done!!” because usually kids come to the order much earlier and have been partially trained in their element before becoming a padawan, so there are some protests there, and there are some people who are like “isn’t this kid pretty traumatised?? are you guys going to be ok?”, but for the most part they’re like “yeah, train the kid. have fun.”. There’s also mourning rites for Qui-gon, of course.

So now Anakin, who’s been hiding his bending all his life, begins his training with Obi-wan, his new pseudo-older-brother-figure who he’s growing increasingly reliant on and who’s growing increasingly reliant on him to cope with their respective losses of parental figures. Anakin has a lot to unlearn, especially with the whole showing my bending = bad bit, and also has to learn basic control and stuff, which Obi-wan, a waterbender, has to figure out how to teach him (usually padawans have already learned the basics by the time a master picks them, especially since their master will bend a different element). But Anakin’s powerful and a quick learner, and Obi-wan is nothing if not stubborn, so they get there, slowly (and by enlisting the help of other firebenders in the Order--Master Dooky being one of them).

On the other hand, Palpatine takes notice of this new addition to the Order, especially the kid’s… unique (haha more like ripe for manipulation and grooming) circumstances. Because yes, Anakin’s a bender, but he’s a bender who has strong cause to be traumatised and afraid, and distrust, other benders. Plus he just lost his mother in one of the most traumatising ways possible, so he’s emotionally vulnerable for sure. This makes him perfect for Palpatine’s purposes, because he’s a firebender (which Palpatine, a firebender who has been hiding his own bending for nefarious purposes, favors), he’s reliant on emotional support, and he’s in a unique position where even as a bender, if Palpatine plays his cards right, he can be turned against other benders (especially if he’s convinced that other benders will use their powers to suppress or hurt others).

So Palpatine reaches out, slowly at first, and how could one say no to the Firelord?

And such, the story’s begun.

#star wars/avatar au #star wars/avatar crossover #my writing #star wars fanfiction #star wars #avatar the last airbender #the phantom menace #anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #padme amidala #obi-wan kenobi #qui-gon jinn #watto

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mxndoscyarika · 4 years

Text

Home (Mando x female!Reader)

Requested by @karnita-mexicana: “Since requests are open what would you think of a padame and anakin type of relationship with mando and the reader where the reader is the queen of a planet and they have a secret relationship going on and it’s super fluffy 🥺👉🏾👈🏾”

Author’s note: It’s finally done! Sorry this took so long, I wanted to make sure I did it justice. Enjoy!

Summary: After weeks of anxiety, you return home to find a new addition to your life.

Warnings: none

Like my writing? Here’s my masterlist.

The Razor Crest was silent as it approached the planet of Garamonde, a planet with lush green forests spattered with some of the most advanced cities in the system. As they entered the atmosphere, Mando picked up the child and placed him on his lap. “You ready to meet someone very special, ad’ika?”

Large dark eyes looked up at him curiously.

“You better behave once we get down there,” he teased. “Ok?”

The child smiled and let out a coo.

———————————————————————

“The mines will cease operation for the time being,” you declared, seated in your throne. “It’s no longer safe for the workers. Many jobs in the development sectors will open as we continue to develop more energy efficient devices; we’ll transfer them as appropriate.”

In front of you stood royal advisors, each carrying datapads with reports on various sectors. Although they were capable of handling everything with little input from their queen, you had made it a point during your time as ruler to remain as involved as possible.

The most recent problem seemed to be the state of Garamonde’s mines. The increased snow over the recent winter meant much more snowmelt once the weather warmed up. Mines set up near the base of the mountains were at risk of being covered by mudslides and collapsing.

“But our exports-”

“Will be fine,” you reassured. “We have much more to offer than metal, and we have a duty to protect and support all workers. This is not up for debate.”

“Yes, your majesty,” they all said in unison, bowing.

Standing up, you said, “Well I guess that settles things. You’re all dismissed.”

Your gown of purple and gold flowed behind you as you strode down the hall, guards trailing slowly as usual. You never quite understood why you needed protection in your own palace.

“Your majesty!” a voice called out. You turned around to see it was Javonor Talbri, one of the advisors who’d brought up an issue with taxation. “I have the reports you wanted on this datapad. Would you like me to give them to you now, or-”

“Leave those in my study,” you quipped, continuing to walk once he caught up. Just a few more feet, and you’d be free of all the formalities and gowns “I’ll go over them later.”

“O-of course, your majesty,” Talbri replied, gripping the tablet tightly.

“I’ll be sure to have a look soon,” you said absentmindedly, entering your chambers. Closing the door on him, you finished, “For now, I have other things to attend to.”

“Of course, your majesty! Forgive any pressure I may have put upon you. I simply just-”

Sighing, you pressed a button on the control pad by the door, which blocked any sound from entering your room. Talbri was dedicated and competent, but he never shut up.

The first thing that came off was the large pin holding together your hair and jeweled headpiece. Even after years of wearing heavy headpieces and hairstyles, you never quite got used to them. At least, not enough for them to be comfortable.

You then changed into some soft pants and a long-sleeved top, both made from stretchy but durable fabric. Stiff heeled shoes were exchanged for worn-in boots with quiet soles. Digging through your wardrobe, you found your favorite cloak, a remnant of a visit to Nevarro. Well, before all the commotion began. Thankfully, it had died down since then.

In less than half of an hour, you were standing by a blue lake. Trees surrounded you, towering high and providing shade for the warm day. Spots of light littered the forest floor, much like how the buildings in the kingdom glittered during sunset. It was peaceful, but something was missing.

You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the nagging in the back of your mind. Where was he? Did he make it out of Nevarro?

The snap of a twig behind you sends your reaching for your blaster, pointing it in the direction the sound came from. This forest wasn’t known for harboring dangerous creatures, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

“Hey hey hey don’t shoot, it’s me!” a modulated voice shouts. It’s Mando, and he’s got one hand flung out, the other occupied with a bundled up...blanket?

Letting your arm drop, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and placed your blaster back in its holster. You took him in, as if the mandalorian standing there could’ve been a figment of your imagination.

Fallen leaves and twigs crunched under your feet as you ran into the mandalorian’s arms, nestling your face against his neck. He still smelled like leather and the metal of the Razor Crest. The only difference was that he had new armor. Yes, finally, your Mando had come home. It was your Din. You pulled away. “I should shoot you for not sending a message to me for the past three months. Where have you been?”

“I’m sorry, I had some business to take care of,” he replied, holding you close. Well, as close as he could with the child on his other arm.

“You didn’t come home,” you murmured, placing a hand on the side of his helmet, where his cheek would be. “I was so worried. I flew all the way out here and waited for you. You never came.”

“I-I know,” he said, voice strained. “It’s a long story.” The bundle in his arms squirmed a little, drawing his attention back to it. “There’s someone I’d like you to meet, cyar’ika.”

You gasped softly as the child poked its head out of the blanket, big eyes looking around at everything. The sky, the trees, Din, and you. Your heart melted as it smiled up at you and reached out. Tucking yourself to his side, you asked, “Is this what kept you away for so long?”

He nodded. “It was one of my bounties. But it’s just a kid. I couldn’t live with myself if I turned it over and walked away. So I broke it out and we’ve been on the run since.”

You frowned. “But your creed...that means it’s...”

“It’s a foundling in my care,” he answered. “And according to the creed, I’m its father now.”

You laughed softly, stroking the child’s ear with a finger. “I never thought I’d see the day that the big bad Mandalorian settles down with a baby of his own.”

“Neither did I,” he replied softly. He looked down at you, taking in your smile and the child’s newfound fascination with your jewelry. “But here we are.”

There you were, indeed. You and Din had discussed having your own children before, but recent years left both of you stranded in your own ways. Transitioning into being a queen had drained you mentally and physically, and Din’s occupation didn’t leave much room for settling down.

“You could stay here,” y/‍n offered. “This place is pretty well hidden, and in all our years of coming here, no one has followed us.”

Din sighed and pressed his forehead against yours, keeping you close with a hand on the small of your back. Even through all the layers, you could feel his warmth against your spine.

“I wish I could,” he said, voice breaking. “But I can’t put you in danger by staying here longer than a few weeks at a time. Not until I know for sure that no one is after our ad’ika.”

Humming, you asked, “Our?”

“Yes. Unless you don’t want it? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have just sprung it on you-“

“I’m just teasing, cyare,” you interrupted, pressing a kiss to the side of his helmet. You reached over and let the child grab onto your finger. Smiling, you continued, “I always knew you had a soft spot for foundlings. Remember when you gave me that idea to reform the foster care system?”

“Every child should have a home they can return to,” he rasped, looking down at the child in his arms. “Even if they’re not related by blood.”

“Well, this foundling is very lucky to have you.” Noting the setting sun, you added, “We should get inside, you must be tired.”

The cottage was small, but it was enough for both of you. No amount of luxury or extravagance could replace the intimacy of living with loved ones. Din immediately spotted the satchel of cooking ingredients sitting on the counter, no doubt containing everything needed to make tiingilar, a traditional mandalorian casserole dish. You knew what your riduur’s line of work entailed, and home-cooked meals were few and far between. So, you and Din had eventually formed your own tradition of cooking a meal together whenever he returned to Garamonde. The only difference was that, this time, you would be joined by the child.

You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the thought of it; that is, the fact that your Din now had a child of his own. Did that mean you would be as its mother? Or would the lack of marriage vows mean you would simply be an outsider to his new clan?

Once the food was ready, you two would sit back to back, a way of dining together while respecting Din’s religion. Until you and he were officially wed, you were forbidden to see his face. Part of you was disappointed at that, because you didn’t know how long it would be until you and Din were married; if you would ever have the chance to at all. But above all else, you respected him, and understood the gravity of the exceptions he already made for you. Sitting back to back while eating? He didn’t have to do that; he’d had to take his meals in isolation pretty much every day. But for you, he risked having his face seen. All so you could savor each other’s presence for as long as possible.

As you ate, you could hear the child’s squeals of joy and Din’s soft chuckles coming from behind you. He would say something in mando’a and imitate the sound of a speeder before feeding the child yet another spoonful of tiingilar.

“Your mother is a great cook, isn’t she?” he mused, mostly to himself. You were glad he couldn’t see you, because you felt your cheeks burn hotter than the two suns.

When it came time for the child to sleep, you two gathered blankets and pillows to line a woven basket. “I’ll have a proper bed made for him once I return to the palace,” you said quietly, not wanting to disturb the drowsy baby. “But this will work for now. Cuun ade je morut’yc.”

Our child is safe.

“Cuun ade je morut’yc,” Din repeated, his heart swelling with affection when you claimed the child as yours.

After washing up and taking off his armor, he slid under the blankets, lying on his back. The sheets rustled as you followed him onto the bed shortly. Although you both couldn’t see, you easily fell into comfort. His presence was familiar and soothing as you practically melted under his touch. You could feel his entire body relax underneath you, weeks of tension leaving him.

“You should stay,” you said softly, head resting against his chest. He was so warm and gentle, a stark contrast from the beskar armor he donned. “It’s safe here. You and ad’ika would have my entire military’s protection.”

“Even if we didn’t have our ad’ika, you know I wouldn’t be able to,” Din said, his unmodulated voice sending shivers down your spine. “Your people wouldn’t approve.”

Lifting your head to face him, you asked, “Do you really think they won’t approve?”

You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the stubble lining his jaw. The curtains in the bedroom were drawn closed to block out any light, giving Din the safety of removing his helmet. Your thumb pressed lightly against his plush lips, feeling his warm breath against your fingertip. Kissing him between each word, you pondered, “Do you really think they’ll disrespect their queen’s choice? Disrespect their king and their child?”

Din groaned softly, his hands wandering south. One arm remained secured on your hip while the other pressed you against him, sliding under your shirt. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Me as your king, and ad’ika as our heir.”

#the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #baby yoda #star wars #my writing

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jonathananubian · 4 years

Text

Te Dralyc Kar Ch 6 [Star Wars Fanfic]

Synopsis:

Jango isn’t quite sure how he came to adopt a blonde slave boy after a job on Tatooine went sideways, but he honestly couldn’t complain. The boy is a little genius, brimming with compassion and a willingness to learn. The only hiccup, as far as Jango is concerned, is the fact that his boy is a naturally powerful force user. Someone the jetii would want to get their hands on.

Of course- he’d just like to see them try.

[This story isn’t linear. More like a series of snapshots. At least until later chapters.]

Chapter 6: Haran

In his secure base on Rorak 4 the red Nikto lounged inside his luxury apartment. The new shipment was already being processed and he could already envision the wealth of credits he’d be swimming in once the sale went through. Sipping at the alcoholic beverage in his hand he leered over the datapad at some of the merchandise. Opening a channel he called down to the guards and ordered them to bring him a specific product from the new shipment. A thrill of anticipation ran through him as he waited.

And waited.

Calling down again he cursed at the guards and demanded to know what was taking so long. But there was no response, only static. An explosion rocked the very foundation of his base and K’tharsin cursed vehemently as he flicked through different channels, trying to contact any of his guards. No one was responding.

Behind him the door to his expensive apartment blew off its hinges and he scrambled toward the panic room he’d had built into the place since day one. From the smoke and haze of debris a whipcord zipped through the air and latched onto his leg. The owner of the whipcord grabbed the end and yanked, hard, slamming the red Nikto into the ground with enough force to daze him.

Storming into the room, fierce like a stalking predator, was a Mandalorian in silver armor with a blue flight suit. Terror swamped K’tharsin as he immediately recognized the famed bounty hunter. “Wait! Please! I-I’ll pay you double whatever the price on my head is!” The Mandalorian stopped, black visor staring down at him coldly. Before he could even think to offer more credits two blaster bolts seared into his skull and three more through his torso.

“Who said anything about credits?” Jango said to no one as he untied his whipcord, turned on his heel, and left the dead Nikto behind.

[Shiona]

Helping Maav load more of the kids into the transport the purple Twi’lek felt her stomach roil in disgust and chest burn with rage. When Jango had come out of nowhere, asking for a favor, she’d punched him in the side of the head before hugging the daylights out of him. They’d heard tales there was a possibility he was alive and had learned about the bounty hunter sharing the name of their lost Mand’alor but hadn’t wanted to believe, in case it was just some trick to draw them out of hiding.

What she learned of the aftermath of Galidraan set her blood to boiling. Now, after years of thinking their king was dead, he returned asking for a favor? There had to be a pretty damn good reason for it.

Lo and behold there was, and his name was Anakin.

The picture Jango showed her was one that had been taken by someone else, a candid shot if ever she’d seen one. The blonde was sitting on Jango’s lap holding up a little flag with a racing logo on it, a wide grin on his face and eyes sparkling with joy. The gentle smile on Jango’s face as he watched his son was enough to make Shiona’s heart melt. It was obvious how much he cared for the boy.

So when he explained that someone had nearly kidnapped him to put him back into slavery, that the one responsible was purposefully targeting kids to sell, she gathered a few of the Haat Mando’ade she’d kept in contact with and got them in on the raid. When they learned they were saving kids from slavery none of them even asked if their was a contract or reward. Kids were precious, regardless of whose kids they were. Not to mention the inherent disgust at slavery in general.

Their reaction to Jango had been a mixed bag of joy, grief, anger, and disbelief but in the end they all accepted that he was, in fact, the Mand’alor- and that their Mand’alor was calling them to action.

No one cared that it was out of revenge for messing with Jango’s son. No one cared that they had been divided for years after Jango’s reported death. The Haat Mando’ade weren’t going to sit back when someone was dealing in kids. Especially if they’d attempted to try and snatch the Mand’alor’s son. That was a very deep and personal offense none of them were about to let slide.

“That’s the last of them, Captain. We’ll meet you at the rendezvous and head toward our destination from there. Safe travels.” Shiona waved the man on and got back into her ship. Maav, seeing she had things well in hand, quickly headed to the cockpit to start up the ship.

“Captain, got a present for you.” Catching the datachip out of the air she looked it over then raised a brow at Zermot, their most talented slicer.

“What’s this?” The man grinned at her.

“Proof.” Her eyebrows rose and she eyed the man curiously.

“Proof of what?” She asked him, fondly exasperated.

“Of why you shouldn’t mess with Mando’ade.” He paused. “And that Jango’s back. Our comrades are going to want proof.” She nodded and slipped the datachip into one of her waist pouches. She knew just the person she could send a copy of whatever Zermot had cooked up.

[Roz]

Watching the scene play out again the pink Toydarian chuckled with dark amusement. Trust Jango to take his revenge in the most daring, competent, and vicious raid anyone had seen in years. It was a neat military operation the likes of which could only be accomplished by a tactical mind and a trained mercenary force. The bounty hunting guilds couldn’t even fault him for it, either. Not only was he freeing enslaved children, which no respectable guild would dare disagree with, but the organization had tried to steal his own child. Roz knew the guild would look the other way on the matter.

“What’s so funny ba’vodu?” Clicking off the video she smiled at the blonde head that was peeking into the room, smudges of grease across a pale forehead and nose.

“Nothing, sweetheart. Just a silly video a friend sent me.” Anakin’s nose scrunched up as he scrutinized her and she smiled. “What are you working on now? I hope you didn’t take apart one of my expensive appliances again without asking.” Blue eyes went wide and darted toward whatever it was before coming back to rest on her.

“Uh… naas. Dar’baati, ba’vodu.” ‘Nothing. Don’t worry, auntie.’ Roz let out a sigh. Jango was going to have to teach the boy how to lie better, he was absolutely abysmal at it. Especially since he always slipped into Mando’a whenever he tried. It was a dead giveaway for anyone who knew him.

“Anakin.” She said sternly. The boy blushed and chewed on his bottom lip.

“Okay, but… you looked really busy and I actually know how to fix it this time! It was leaking anyway and I thought it would be nice to do something for you…” She wanted to be cross with him, she really did, but she just couldn’t bring herself to be. Not when he was trying so earnestly to do something nice for her.

“Fine, I’ll overlook it this time. As long as there’s no mess and it actually works when you’re finished.” A smile like a sunrise crossed his face and he was quickly nodding.

“Lek ba’vodu!” ‘Okay auntie!’ Roz sighed as the boy darted off, he was always so full of energy it was a wonder Jango could keep up with him. She honestly never thought she’d learn to speak Mando’a either and yet here she was helping a little Mandalorian child to learn his basic letters and how to hold simple conversations. It was something she knew Jango had once thought to leave behind him, to keep to himself and never speak about with her, but his son just had a way of bringing hope and light to everything he touched… except for her washing machine. That poor thing looked like it someone had stuffed a frag grenade inside by the time Anakin had finished with it and tried to turn it on.

The comm on her desk chimed and she flew over to answer. “Yes? What is it?” There was a request for docking from five ships, none of them with familiar transponder codes and all of them clearly of Mandalorian make. Roz smiled and granted them access. She had no doubt that Jango wouldn’t be far behind.

“Anakin!” She called. The boy came running into the room, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

“Yes auntie?” Landing beside him she smiled and ruffled his hair, which made him pout.

“Go get cleaned up, quickly. There are some guests in the hangar and your buir should be right behind them.” Anakin whooped and ran off to get cleaned up, leaving Roz to smile warmly at his retreating back.

[Anakin]

Once he was properly washed and changed into the nice tunics his buir had bought him he followed Auntie Roz to the docks, feeling as if he was going to explode with excitement and joy. He was so happy that his buir was back and if he wasn’t heading straight for the medics it meant he wasn’t hurt! Anakin preferred when his buir came home in one piece, since he hated to see him hurt. It reminded him too much of the last time he saw his mom and then he got all sad and anxious…

When they reached the docks his buir was standing with a group of people, although Anakin didn’t really pay them any mind. He wanted to make sure his buir was there, real and whole. Running as fast as he could, ducking around the workers and other guests, he barreled right into his buir’s side, clinging to him as if he could be taken away at any moment. “Su’cuy buir!” ‘Hi dad!’ His buir let out a chuckle and pried him off, making him pout, before he was being lifted into the man’s arms for a proper hug.

All the conversation stopped and he could feel the curious eyes of the people his dad had been talking to. “Anade, ner ad Anakin.” ‘Everyone, my son Anakin.’ Smiling he waved at the group of armored individuals, staring at their armor in open curiosity and awe. “Anakin, anade.” ‘Anakin, everyone.’ Jango made a few hand motions that Anakin didn’t yet understand, since his buir said he needed to learn Mando’a before he could learn the Tigaan, or Mandalorian Hand Signs. After a moment of hesitation the other Mandalorians removed their helmets, except for one of them. They made a few small hand gestures at at his dad, who nodded respectfully back. The last Mandalorian kept their helmet on.

“Su’cuy gar, anade!” ‘Hello, everybody!’ Anakin said with a wide grin, happy that he could talk to them in Mando’a at least. The first Mandalorian, a purple Twi’lek, smiled at him.

“It’s nice to meet you, An’ika. Your buir told us all about you.” Anakin looked at his dad, eyes wide. His dad just chuckled and ran a hand through his hair to soothe his sudden embarrassment.

“Mand’alor, I’m sorry to interrupt but we need to talk about the ade.” His buir frowned and he could feel his mood turn from content/amused/joy to rage/sadness/determination. Flinching back slightly he looked the man in the eyes for a moment before giving him another hug.

“What are they talking about, buir?” Jango hugged him back, arms protective rather than smothering.

“Remember the hut’uune that took you?” Anakin nodded solemnly, his eyes going hard at the memory. “They took other kids too. We went to rescue them.” Anakin’s eyes widened and he began to shake slightly as he gripped his buir’s armor.

“D-did they have chips too? Can I go see them?” Buir felt hesitant and defensive in the force but his expression became calm and contemplative so he stayed still, almost wanting to hold his breath waiting for the answer.

“You can come with me to see them. But if I think you’re in danger and I tell you to go you will listen to me, An’ika. Tion suvarir?” Yes, he nodded, he understood. Buir set him down and took of his helmet, clipping it to his belt before taking Anakin’s hand.

They had some former slave children to help and Anakin would do his best to make them understand that Mandalorians were nothing to be afraid of. Mando'a Translations; Hut'uune- Cowards Tion suvarir?- Understand?

#fanfic #fanfiction #star wars #mandalorian culture #adoption #mando'a #young anakin skywalker #mandalorian anakin #true mandalorians #mandalorians ocs #rozatta #slavery #past slavery #jango fett #found family #genius anakin

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jedi-order-apologist · 4 years

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hey you seem to know a lot about the jedi, i was wondering... how do you think they deal with potentially having to kill as part of their duty? i don't know if it's ever mentioned anywhere (i only know the movies and swtor ^^) but i thought they maybe have lessons for their younglings/padawans to prepare them for the possibility? you think there are jedi psychiatrists? group therapy? we do see ahsoka kill people at like... a pretty young age, so that had me thinking~

Well, I wouldn’t say a lot - I base most of my view of the Jedi on the films themselves, and to a lesser extent The Clone Wars, and I’ll draw in expanded material as it suits me/whenever I think it captures the a similar interpretation (which uh...it doesn’t always do that). Though I’ve by no means exhaustively consumed the expanded material - there’s a lot of it out there and I don’t think I could ever get around to reading all of the novels or all of the comics, or playing all of the video games (although actually that last one sounds like it could be a fun goal...). So I wouldn’t consider myself an expert. @gffa certainly knows more than I do, especially with regards to the current continuity’s expanded material, and has put together this lovely reference guide if you’re interested in reading a lot of meta about the Jedi.

But I’d like to think I have a solid conception of the Jedi, yes, and a decently good offhand memory for what happened in the films/TCW :)

As for your questions, I don’t think it’s specifically addressed, so it’s up to interpretation/headcanon. Though we do see a healer in TCW, she specifically says that she can only evaluate Yoda’s physical health, not his mental health - though clearly that is an acknowledgement of mental health having value, so there very well may be Jedi healers who do focus on mental health (they’re probably swamped with everything going on with the war, if so). Though, as gffa has posted a few meta posts about, Jedi practice/philosophy is itself therapeutic, so there may not be a need for a formal psychiatric practice since they are supposed to turn to their teachings, to their Masters, and to their peers for guidance and support.

Specifically for killing, I think they must go over it at some point - Anakin specifically shows guilt for killing the Tuskens and for killing Dooku, because it wasn’t the Jedi way, but shows no guilt over killing Geonosians in defense. He’s definitely aware of the difference of killing out of defense/necessity, and dishonorable executions/slaughter (even if that awareness doesn’t actually stop him, it's still there). So I think it’s reasonable to assume that conversations take place about when and why it’s acceptable to kill, and while it should be a last resort, going to extremes to avoid taking a life or being too hesitant can be harmful to the people you’re protecting, too.

Whether that’s a formal lesson, it may be, but most likely it is at least reiterated by an individual Padawan’s Master - because there’s always a difference between theory and actually dealing with it in practice. Ahsoka and Anakin do kind of talk about it in the end of TCW episode “Brain Invaders”, though in that case it’s also wrapped up in Ahsoka having been reluctant to kill her friend, rather than having to kill in general, and Anakin dances around an answer to the question Ahsoka was really asking (what if the situation had been so that killing her was the right choice to save everyone and I still couldn’t bring myself to do it?) by saying that, well, Barriss thought you had to kill her to save everyone else but you knew better so it’s all fine and you did the right thing by sparing her.

But I’m sure it’s not uncommon for Masters to help their Padawans work through it after they first take a life in the line of duty. And the lesson of letting go is certainly part of that, because it’s not just about letting go of those you care about, but letting go of things you cannot change in general, like the choices you made in the past.

#i hope this answers your questions adequately #discussion #on mental health #on jedi responsibilities #Anonymous

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cassatine · 4 years

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The Heirs, A Novel Of Incestuous Legacies?

My baby, and hopefully an actually novel-length weirdtastic take on Imperial Reylo - it’s a romcom crossed with a mystery novel on a background of political intigue in which they share a grandma and the Empire had better PR (but not better policies). I’m pretending it’s a genre-bending trashy romance written by an historian about their fave guilty historical rpf pairing so I can overcome my cringe reflex at the cognitive dissonance between ‘evil romcom lol’ and ‘they’re fucking imperialists Jan’. Which turned out to be a great pretext to draft a fake essay about the historicity of the fake novel and the bias of its author, as you do. (I’m going hard on the fake novel idea and if I want to make it fake a centenary anniversary edition of a cult novel with fake essays I will.)

All in all it should turn out like a weird pile of tropes no one sensible would try to make work together and also an affront to taste, which is a pretty good program if I may say so.

Extract from the first draft of the second chapter, although I think I may have shared that already? I’ve mostly been working on re-doing the outline recently and my outlines are... not shareable (for many reasons, but mainly because they’re in an unintelligible shorthand frenglish), but i really like the Squid Lake discourse:

It’s awkward, the three of them gathered around a too-small désserte piled with finger food and a pot of hot, spicy kaf accompanied by ridiculously tiny china cups, privacy screens drawn so that Ben can dispense of the helmet. He misses it as soon as it’s off and he has to feign interest in Grandfather and Rey’s discussion of Birche Lixx’s directorial choices - a perfect, pure example of the classical Mon Cal genre in Palpatine’s eyes; an unimaginative rendition steeped in nostalgia according to his cousin.

“The classicism is purely aesthetic,” she argues, distaste curling her mouth.“Lixx’s posturing around authenticity, coming back to the original libretto - it doesn’t change the fact that his staging is designed around the limitations of a non-aquatic space and the music adapted for a human hearing range.”

Tut-tut goes Grandfather, shaking his head with exaggerated disappointment. “You’ve read Peluls’ treatises, dear; you know as well as I do that such things were never considered important - unlike choreographic codes and respect of the classical unities.”

“Because it went without saying,” Rey bursts. “Outworld interest in the genre only took off two centuries ago -”

It all sounds very Quarrel of the Ancients and Moderns to Ben, but he doesn’t know Birche Lixx from Shul Peluls or Charron Dio, so he has little to contribute. The argument is heated enough that it doesn’t seem to be wholly about ballet anyway, and he’s probably better off pretending he’s listening in silent interest and not just watching his cousin furiously nibbling on tiny biscuits, wondering if it’s his neck or Grandfather’s she thinks of whenever she elegantly snaps one in two.

Grandfather, he decides after a particularly vicious twist sends crumbs flying as the old man starts quoting Sistros of Dwartii on the role of cultural institutions in maintaining stability. “How will the Empire stand if my own blood doesn’t understand the importance of continuity?” he bemoans. Rey crushes another biscuit, fake smile turning brittle.

“Some would Sistros’ stability stagnation,” Ben points out, drawing a surprised look from his cousin and an exasperated one from Grandfather. “No institution can persist unchanged for any length of time - Lanius’ third axiom, right?”

“The second one,” Rey corrects. “But -”

“Lanius,” Grandfather interrupts, mouth pinched the way it always is when someone mentions Sistros’ main critic, “was a barely literate fraud and a sophist. None of his arguments hold up to scrutiny, and certainly none of his half-baked axioms -”

And there he goes, wound up for at least a good ten minutes. Ben learned the trick from Anakin, but if provoking the old man to frustration over political philosophy spared him from more personal sermons, it hasn’t endeared him to Palpatine before and it won’t now.

the meme

#ask meme thing #cass writes #tobermoriansass #ask

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a-dorin · 4 years

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Yay! Could I get a Star Wars one please? I'm 21, brown eyes, shoulder length light reddish-brown hair, very short (5'3), I used to do martial arts and I workout a lot, not too slim (think Florence Pugh) but can get pretty insecure, I have a short temper but I try to meditate to keep calm, I love cooking and baking, drawing and enjoy being by myself for the most part, I tend to get snippy but also will cry over the dumbest things 🙈 thanks!

i ship you with..

anakin skywalker

the two of you are a perfect match, falling in love with one another at first sight.

anakin finds your height cute, always teasing you about it. sometimes when you’re being a little sassy, he’ll throw you over his shoulder, laughing as you beg to be put down.

the two of you enjoy meditating with one another, centering yourselves whenever you’re stressed or anxious. anakin likes giving you massages, and when he’s upset you’ll run your fingers through his hair.

another pastime of yours with anakin is working out. since you know combat skills, anakin finds competing with you attractive, especially when you give it your all.

he’ll wipe your tears when you’re upset, even if you find those things to be insignificant. he understands your anger, telling you that it’s okay to express your emotions.

although the two of you have not been together long, you both love another endlessly.

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rosepetals-flyingbirds · 4 years

Text

Tortured Souls. (9)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader.

Warnings: Mention of sex, language.

Word Count: 3,544

The prior days were amazing.

The cliche love story was happening and everything was calm and serene.

Yet you were still worried about the crimes so you tried to call your friends seeking for new information,

Fury said it was better to wait a few days, before going back home. Just to have the opportunity to intercept another video or phone call by Artem or “you”.

Bucky made sure you were happy and treated you like a princess.

You two spent days doing nothing and everything all together. In one moment you two were taking care of the animals giving Jordan some free time, and on the other inside the house dancing, relaxing, training to make sure both bodies burned some steam without training or having sex.

Along with the worry about Artem you were also worried about Tony's reaction, he surely wouldn’t take well you being with Bucky. And you couldn’t blame him, Bucky was a victim and used as a marionette to commit murder, yes, but you wouldn’t act differently if he had killed your parents. Well, that if you had lovely parents.

Nor Tony or Fury appeared again, the only visitor you had was Thor apologizing saying he had a big problem to deal with in Asgard and you couldn’t make him stay, it was his kingdom after all.

He apologized like he was really sad he couldn’t help you, but he would keep an eye.

You just hugged the tall god and said it wasn’t a problem and everything was okay, you wished him luck on his issue and he smiled seeing you actually taking the information well, he nodded his head to Bucky saying for him take care of you, Bucky agreed with a smile and Thor summoned some lightning leaving the place and a black circle with runes around the floor in the process.

After dawn, you were in the pool with Bucky, swimming and talking, when your phone rang.

You ran to its reach and saw Clint's name on the screen, Clint said he found another video coming from an old Stark Industry where two men were discussing over the phone and the voice on it belonged to Artem. He told you he wouldn’t tell Everett because it would be better to make sure if anyone was compromised inside the SHIELD they wouldn’t know.

You thanked him, and walked back to the pool. Sitting on the floor and placing your legs in the water, Buck swam to your reach and asked what was wrong.

"Clint intercepted a call and he saw two men talking in an old industry of Tony, and... and hopefully that story will end soon."

Buck looked confused. "And that is a good thing right?"

"It is, but, I don't know what will happen when we get back home."

His eyes filled with understanding, he knew you meant not only to whole Artem thing, but your relationship with him.

"It will be okay." He gave you a smile and you held his hand giving a kiss on his palm. You entered the pool again and swam until you got tired enough to sleep.

…

Fury gave you the green signal to go back to New York.

Steve came with the quinjet to pick you and Bucky, and while leaving, you gave the house a second look memorizing the amazing moments you spent there in the last days with Bucky.

You said goodbye to Jordan, his father and brother. And took care of the animals for the last time, the dogs almost felt like you were leaving, their eyes were sad.

Bucky and Jordan said goodbye as well, somehow both got real friendly with each other and you felt good about it, Bucky wasn’t the type of making friends easily, he ended up being yours and the rest of the Compound because of the routine, but if it wasn’t the living together situation, surely he would only be Steve’s friend.

So it was nice seeing him speaking with someone new. Someone... normal.

Steve landed the quinjet and the intensity of the turbines caused a massive wind swinging in the trees in the process.

Steve smiled and came to hug you, you surely missed your dear friend, he hugged Bucky as well and looked at you like he knew something you didn’t. You hadn’t said any intimate detail to Steve, just a text when he asked how things were going and you answered. ’Pretty good, we are okay.’

Although you have no idea if Bucky texted him or called, either way, the priority was going back home, grab some evidence and head to Washington to SHIELD and finish the whole soap opera drama.

In the Compound you were smiling seeing the big place up while the jet was still in the clouds, Wanda and Sam were in the hangar and you ran to their reach.

Steve didn’t even fully land the quinjet when you jumped out of it and ran to your friend’s approach, you hugged Sam almost knocking him to his ass. “I missed you guys so much! How are you? Any news?” You asked excitedly and sensed Steve and Bucky walking past you carrying the bags you and Bucky had taken to the house.

Sam opened his mouth and something told you he was going to say something about your situation, but it wasn’t that you wanted to know, not yet. “Please news about you guys, I feel terrible for running away and leaving the mess for you guys deal with, please feel free to curse me.” You laughed and Wanda hugged you, it wasn’t the same thing without you in the Compound.

“Actually everything is okay, no news I guess,” Sam said.

You nodded and walked inside happy to be home.

You texted Tony, Clint, and Fury saying you got back into the City and were in the Compound.

Tony texted saying he was in the physiotherapy with Rhodey and he would head there at the moment the session finished, and Clint texted you back saying he went home to spend a few days with his family but he would be back in a couple of days.

You went to your room and saw your personal belongings there, you tried to not get much hold in objects but a few things that adorned the place always brought you good memories, you opened the safe box you had under your closet and saw a few things around.

Inside had the picture of you and Tony back in 2008, the first picture together, a drawing Steve made years back which you adored so he gave it to you.

And then you saw your favorite creation over the years, the perfect replica of a lightsaber, you grabbed the thing clicking on the button making the hot light appears.

You loved Star Wars and one day you were in Tony’s lab helping him with the suits and you saw how his repulsor held energy, you tried to make a lightsaber and with the help of Tony -and at least twenty fails- you two created the perfect Anakin’s lightsaber the world could ever dream off.

As the repulsors of the suit’s, you made the unit connected through Tony’s Arc Reactor so the plasma blade could be powered just like in the movies. You used some material that conducts energy, like an electrostaff, Z6 riot control baton, and some rare metals that could be considered as the kyber crystals, the junction of the materials concentrated the reactor’s energy in a unique manner resonating with it. You thought of doing one like Kylo’s since the last movie was released -and his lightsaber was pretty awesome- but Tony said it would be unnecessary which was true.

You couldn’t go on a mission with a lightsaber and cut people’s hands and necks with it, too many politicians laws around the missions protocols, so the thing was almost... a toy.

A deadly one as that.

Someone knocked on the door and you looked at Bucky, he saw the dangerous weapon in your hand and remembered when you made him watch the whole saga. “I still can’t believe you made one of these.”

“Well, nothing is impossible.” You replied and he sat beside you on the floor, he looked at the picture and sighed almost soundless, you knew what he was anxious about, Tony would never allow the two of you together.

Bucky knew you could not keep a secret from Tony so it was just a matter of time. “Don’t worry, we don’t have to tell him yet.”

He propped his arm encompassing your shoulder and kissed your hairline retaining you adjacent his chest, you kept looking at the things.

Bucky wondered about your words previously, the words that explained you were scared that you two were just some ‘vacation thing’ that in real life you two would go in separate ways and ignore each other again like in the day you get hurt on a mission.

“Tony is here." Sam yelled from the halls and stepped into your quarters seeing you and Bucky snuggled. “I knew it!” He shouted with an ear to ear smile.

You smiled at his reaction. “Okay okay but spare Tony’s anxiety a few more please, let’s fix this whole Artem thing first and then we tell him.” You kissed Bucky’s cheek, making the tough big super soldier blush, and stood up storing your things inside the safe box. “Let’s go.”

Bucky stood at your room, he couldn’t see Tony so he would hide until he left.

Tony was wearing one of his expensive suits you wondered where he was earlier. “Finally!” Tony said and hugged you. “I can’t wait to kill the bastard and have you back home again.” You lived in the Compound but also in the houses around the world, and when Tony needed some time to breathe you always went with him. So ’home’ meant whenever he was.

“It’s good to see you. Tell me how is Rhodey?”

“He is okay, doing well… but he won’t be able to walk alone ever again, just with the midsection part of the suit we created for him.” You could sense Sam tensing in the corner of your eyes, the poor man blamed himself for Rhodey’s paraplegia, but it was just an unfortunate accident. “Fury told me you two fixed everything, I’m glad he finally realized.” He let an exaggerated sigh of relief.

You smirked. “Yeah, me too. But okay, what do we do now?” You wanted to take your gear or maybe one of the Iron Man’s suits designed for you and end it all.

“Calm down Butch Cassidy, can we spend some peaceful moment for now?”

“No.” You answered immediately and Sam chuckled. “I just want to finish this.”

“Trust me kid, me too,” Tony said. “But we can't go look for them and finish it all we can’t go all Peter on them.”

You looked at him surprised and confused, “Peter? As Peter Parker?” He nodded and shook his head biting his tongue surely regretting his words. “What Peter had to do with all of this?"

“He might or might not have gone after Artem and spoke with him.” Tony replied staring downward, you kept quiet and he looked at you and scoffed. “I got mad too okay?! But I wasn’t the one told him.” He looked to his right seeing Sam.

You followed Tony’s gaze and shouted at Sam, who had a very guilty face. “You told Peter?”

“Okay calm down, he saw in the news and came here looking for you. I didn’t actually tell him anything.”

It was true, the boy had seen the news on the TV and got crazy worried about you. “Okay it makes sense, but what do you mean he talked with Artem? When had that happened? Artem hurt him?”

“No and no. Don’t worry, he is okay.” Tony replied.

Sam shook his head. “Apparently the kid saw his face in the news and started webbing around the town searching him, he found him talking with other two men and a blond woman.”

“Blond? Maybe it was the bitch that is pretending to be me.”

“Probably,” Tony answered but saw how your face lightened up probably planning to call Peter and grab the information. “Calm down.” He warned.

You sighed in frustration. “Come on I need to fix this! I love you all but I hate feeling like people are doing things for me, please please let me fix this.” You stated.

Tony nodded but sucked his upper lip. “Tomorrow. Tomorrow we call Fury and plan an attack. But now let’s eat something and talk.” He said and invited Sam too.

You waited for Tony to walk a few steps ahead and looked at Sam silently imploring him to not let any sort of information related to Bucky escape.

Bucky.

The man was in your room looking at the cozy place that screamed your name in every aspect. Steve walked in and saw the worry on his friend’s face. “What happened in Oregon?” He asked fully aware something had occurred, crossing his arms and giving the known look.

Bucky chuckled and looked down before darting his eyes at Steve. “What I ever wanted.”

Steve smiled knowing you two would take care of each other, but Bucky’s face remained sad. “What is the matter then?”

“I don’t deserve her Steve. I feel like she is pitying me.”

“Y/N? I’m sure she would never pity you especially like that.” He answered but Bucky didn’t show a reaction, just quietness, and gazes over the room. “I know you worry about our friendship, that I expect you to be the same Bucky of the 40’s and not the Bucky of now.” Bucky stood silent, it was truly what he feared, that Steve wouldn’t like the new Bucky, just the remembrance of the old one that died the moment he fell off the train's wagon. “But you’re my best friend. You were the friend of the skinny troublemaker Steve Rogers and of the Captain America. We both changed Buck, but we are still friends and we always will be.” He sincerely said and Bucky smiled at him. The words held a giant meaning for him.

“She told you that right?” It would surely be one assumption of yours.

“A time ago yes, I just didn’t know what to say.” Steve replied honestly. “What I’m trying to say its that she really likes you and I know you feel the same way. If the hidden on her house made it real then make sure it won’t end, I know Y/N from years now, and I know she doesn’t let people in, and if she let you in making sure to take good care of her.” Steve gave him the speech.

Bucky would surely take care of you, he would do anything to keep you safe. And leaving, was one of them. “What about Tony?”

“Give him time.” Steve answered and both walked out of the place to spare and train. Nothing like two supersoldiers fighting to get a good amount of endorphin.

Y/N.

The following day you received a message from Clint ordering you to wait for him come back before you tried anything, you asked if Tony had said something and his answer was ‘No, I just really know you.’

So you waited for him and made strategies over your head while tried to spend some time with your beloved friends.

You kept the video Clint had tracked and followed his instructions. You thought about the possibility of having an ear-bug in the Compound and someone listening what was happening, at least you wanted to believe that was the explanation and not that someone close to you was betraying you so wickedly.

When Clint arrived you two met out of the Compound or any other place someone would presume, Bucky was confused why you left the bed so early but you just said you needed some time and asked him to trust you.

You texted Tony saying you would hang out with Bucky so in that way he wouldn’t come and worry about your whereabouts.

Clint met you on a bench in the central park, that way you two could blend into the crowd and make sure no one else was listening or watching. You wearing jeans, black t-shirt, white converse and a baseball team hat. He was wearing sunglasses and a walking stick trying to pass himself as a blind man.

You two made sure the place was safe and started to talk. Clint smiled at you and you wondered what he was thinking about. “I missed you, the kids do too.”

“I missed you too, man.“ You replied truthfully, Clint was a good friend and a great partner on missions. “I hate that I ran off and let all the stress to you guys, is not you guy’s responsibility to protect me.“ When Steve and Tony told you it was better to hide and let Artem show his face again you grew mad because it wasn’t fair letting people clean up your mess, but you did so and gladly Steve was right after all.

“We are family, of course it’s. But let’s talk about strategies. Me and Sam have been tracking some cameras and keeping an eye on anything that could lead us to Artem or the fake you. The video I sent you gave me a lead. Sam was busy with Steve so I made sure no one else knew about that.”

“I believe someone planted a bug inside the Compound, I mean I rather believe that than consider one of you guys are betraying me.” You sighed.

“I would prefer too kid, but try not to get your expectations up. It will hurt, yes, but let’s keep our heads up.” He said calmly.

Clint was a grown man that lived great adventures over the years of his life, but could he be the one behind all of this? You shook your head and blinked trying to erase those thoughts. “My plan is, we prepare and go to that place and analyze their agents and if Artem is there.”

A dog passed by you and you caressed the big animal, Clint smiled and the girl asked if you two had any, assuming you were a couple. “Yeah, she chooses the dog, of course, but he is the best creature, he actually it’s a great guide when I need him;” Clint said and the girl believed completely he was a visually impaired, you two smiled and saw the girl leaving, the people around were busy with their own worlds and with that addition you and Clint made the best cover.

“Do you know where is Nat?”

“She and Bruce traveled somewhere, I truly don’t know where. Why? Do you think she is the one behind it?” He asked not fully blaming you for assuming things, after all, it could be anyone.

You took a deep breath. “I choose not too, but there is a chance. Peter said a blond woman was talking with Artem but… I don’t know.” The woman was surely wearing a Y/H/C wig on the footage, it wouldn’t be hard to buy a blond one.

“I don’t believe she would do so Y/N. But whoever it’s we will make sure will pay for all of this.” He promised.

A smile adorned your features, your friends were surely the bests. “Thank you, friend. So, you said the place was an old Stark factory?”

“Do you remember when Tony shut down a lot of fabrics around the world?! So that one is located in Greenbelt-Maryland close to-”

“To Washington.” You replied by cutting his words. “So he is not only here but in Maryland too… Actually, it makes sense, if someone of SHIELD is working with him it makes complete sense, but why is he here too?”

He shrugged. “To make people believe you’re actually behind this? To privately attack us.” He suggested, but he knew what you were thinking. “Or because someone from here is doing so.”

You laughed in mockery, you were so tired of all the mess. “You know what Clint? Let’s invade that place and travel to Maryland if necessary. I won’t let some stupid guy and some crazy bitch screw my life. I’m scared of who is behind all of this? Maybe. But I can’t live with that doubt anymore. I won’t.”

Clint closed his eyes and nodded positively. “Yes! That is what I like to hear! So what do we do first?”

You looked at the green place surrounding you two and glanced at him with a smile. “We attack the old factory.”

…

Sorry if the allusion of the lightsaber wasn’t something you related to, ignore it if you want. And to anyone who liked please agree with me that Tony is completely capable to create one. Thank you for reading and leave a comment if you fancy. ^^

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x me

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