#and anakin

[r0gerr0ger]

I take back everything bad I’ve said about Ahsoka. This is show is so good.

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

After almost two years of war, Obi-Wan knew the chances of him making it out alive were low. He wasn't infallible, he wasn't unbeatable and with every campaign and every mission, bone-deep exhaustion plagued his every moment. That didn't mean Obi-Wan didn't hope. Hope that the war would end soon. Hope that he would be there when Ahsoka was knighted. Hope for a better future. Obi-Wan should have known those dreams weren't feasible. He had just never thought Anakin wouldn't be there with him as they fall apart. His padawan had so much to live for - Ahsoka, his men. Senator Amidala. He didn't deserve to have his life cut short so soon. None of them did. (His men were fighting for their lives on the ground; the whole mission had turned out to be an elaborate trap and oh Force, they were being slaughtered and where was Obi-Wan when they needed him–) Obi-Wan oft thought of himself as a realist, an idealist even. In actuality, he was a liar. And the person he lied most to was himself. As he crouched before his padawanchildbrother Anakin's fallen body, the Jedi Master couldn't help but wonder. Had there even been a future to look forward to? What was the point? The redhead shook off the intrusive thoughts, unwelcome and desolating as they were. This was not the time or place for such laments. As unfair and unwelcome as their situation was, Obi-Wan couldn't help but be grateful that they had left Ahsoka with the men on the ground. The thought both reassured him and very much did not. How similar to her Master, the Togruta turned out to be. (Obi-Wan hoped his men were fine, that his grand-padawan was fine. It was a pipe dream - they were at war after all - but it was one that didn't perish no matter how often it was proved wrong.) Obi-Wan heaved for breath, sweat running down his temple. One would wonder how they ended up here. In the middle of a battle, the two of them separated from their troops. They had successfully hijacked the Separatist dreadnought, which intelligence believed to be holding the captured diplomats when everything went sideways. And oh Force, how sideways it went. The information turned out to be a complete hoax. They had been ambushed by three squads of droids the moment they entered the prison brig. They had barely made it out before another squad joined the fray. After that, everything was a blur of running and fighting and even more running. And then - in the mids of it all - something had exploded. The strength of the explosion had sent them flying, the heat of the blast blistering the skin of his exposed neck. Obi-Wan's ears had rung and spots had invaded his vision as he skidded to a stop. The hall before them had filled with droids in the seconds it took him to regain his bearings. Anakin had had less luck than him. He had been by the corner when the blast reached him, throwing him into the nearby wall like a rag doll on stims. He was now lying a few feet away from Obi-Wan, unconscious, burnt and probably bleeding from the shrapnel wounds covering his body. The Force around him felt drowsy and his presence was threaded with a dull throbbing of pain. If Anakin was anything it was being frighteningly capable of hiding his pain. (Leftover from his past, a tiny part of his brain chanted as it always did when Anakin's mental stability was brought up. Shut up, he shushed it sternly. He didn't need any more distractions, his attention was already divided between the worry for his padawan and the droids that were trying to blast him to bits–) He twisted out of the way of a blaster bolt, raising his lightsaber just in time to stop another. They were forced into a literal corner and the droids didn't. stop. coming. There was no space for his usual acrobatics, no space to escape the deadly barrage. There was no space to simply breathe. Had Obi-Wan not been a master of compartmentalizing releasing his feelings into the Force, he would have been rendered completely useless by the bubbling panic in his gut. (He might have been a Jedi first but a liar came a close second.) Alarms rang through the air as the Jedi Master's eyes jumped from one advancing droid to another. His lightsaber thrummed in his hands, a blur of light creating an impenetrable barrier between the duo and their attackers. (No medevac would be spared even if Obi-Wan could call for one. And he couldn't. They were being swarmed before the droids received the orders for a suicide run. Before the kriffing pieces of scrap turned off the gravity and opened fire with the heavy artillery. They were on a ship outside atmo for Force's sake, there was no escaping this one–) Truth be told, Obi-Wan wasn't that better off than his former student. His energy was waning with every passing second and his muscles screamed in protest with every move. His guard was slipping; the only reason he hadn't dropped it completely was the dwindling warmth at the back of his head. (There was something truly terrifying in the fact he could tell it was dwindling. Not dimed, but dying-?!) Until the backlash of the broken bond hit him, Obi-Wan would hold the line. The redhead only wished the droids would stop coming. That way the task wouldn't appear so monumental. He didn't have the time to breathe, much less try and remove both Anakin and himself from this thrice-damned hallway. The less said about Anakin's state the better. (How Obi-Wan wished they could escape- that Anakin could escape, that his padawan would survive- but he had been prodding the bond every few seconds and all he could feel was the fuzziness of unconsciousness muddled with the pain, plaguing the younger man's body. It was a searing sensation, paralyzing any rational thought that might have traveled through the needle-wide bond. At one point even hope had to die in the face of reality.) Then something faded, something broke. A bolt passed through Obi-Wan's guard striking him between the ribs. Another followed. And another. There was a certain emptiness in his head. One less bright spot in the web of stars he was connected to. He felt like it should have been a nova - devastating in its destruction, but it wasn't. There were no black holes or white dwarfs left behind. The star was gone, taking with it the light that should have outlived him. ("Let go," whispered a voice almost as well-known to his psyche as his own. "Master, it's over, let go." And how Obi-Wan wished he could - but his padawan was lying behind him more dead than alive and he was not moving.) There was frantic energy humming beneath his skin, pushing him forward. He ignored it. ("I'm dead, old man," the voice choked around the words, the familiar fake smile obvious in his words. And the quirks he could hear, the expression Obi-Wan could imagine plastered on sun-kissed skin, almost brought the Jedi Master to his knees, because wasn't that the truth? "There is no saving me now. Let me go." The beloved voice was begging, where it had never done so before and wasn't that criminal? Obi-Wan Kenobi could bring despair even to those residing in the Force. He should put that in his file - it would surely endear him to the senators even more. If he lived to share the tale that is. "I'm dead. Let me go. Isn't that what you always tell me? Let go.") Obi-Wan's body took more bolts than the man deflected, and with every passing moment, the droids came closer to him them. The strange abundance of power dwindled as if muted by his own growing despair. There was something splintered in his mind. Obi-Wan decidedly didn't acknowledge it. (A small part of him did - his padawan was dead. He couldn't feel Anakin anymore. The last pieces of their bond were gone - erased from his mind as if the golden, unbreakable thread hadn't been Obi-Wan's lifeline. All that was left of it was ash and soul-wrenching pain.) (Everything was numb and distant. He was losing too much blood. And everything was too quiet. There was no blood-curdling scream, no never-ending cry of pure agony. The Force was silent. Obi-Wan wished he had the energy not to be.) And then, after several torturous moments, during which the Jedi's mind tried and failed to mitigate the psychic damage, Obi-Wan faltered. He failed to raise his lightsaber fast enough. Obi-Wan couldn't stop the blaster bolt before it hit him in the chest. Whatever power had been holding him upright vanished, leaving the Jedi Master to crumble to the floor. (It burned- oh, Force it burned- It was a moment and an eternity- An end, a definite end-) Obi-Wan Kenobi died. (That was how the 'great' Kenobi fell - not by the hand of another sentient being but to that of a droid programmed to advance until destruction- What a pity. It lacked a great deal of irony and had too little tragedy. What a pity indeed‐) He died. His body fell next to that of Anakin Skywalker, who had died mere minutes earlier. There would be no one to close their eyes seeing as the dreadnought they were on was already sailing nose down toward the ground. Days would have passed before their remains were found amidst the crash, buried among half-melted metal and twisted machinery. That was an end. Not the end perhaps, but an end nonetheless. It continued like this. Anakin Skywalker woke up.

this is the beginning of my force ghost au that I wanted to do; I am a sucker for whump and I wanted to see if I could write death scenes - the results are yet to be determined

Part 1 of hopefully more? we’ll see

[tragedy-for-sale]

Midnight Rain

'You were sunshine. I was Midnight Rain'

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

Rex didn't brood, he wasn't grumpy or angry. Well, he didn't carry those traits. He's had bad days, sure, he's yelled at people, been snippy, a jerk, he's been all those things. But he wasn't those things. He sure felt like he was. There he sat, brooding, angry, snippy, he was all the things he didn't want to be when there were people around. Luckily, there wasn't. There wasn't. But now there was. Anakin was a hummer, he sang messy love songs and almost danced when he did. Anakin, radiant, with a glimmering smile and dazzling laugh, came in, a smile on his face and a song fresh off his lips.

"Hey Rex! Closets are the place to be, ain't they?" Anakin smiled a witty smile, he didn't need to say more. He came in, a force to be reckoned with, a force to fear, but also, a force to laugh with, to give into, to love. Rex hadn't known Anakin that long, but he felt like he'd know Anakin all his life. He has. Rex wasn't alive until he met Anakin. "Your face looks like it's in need of stitches, Cap'n." Anakin didn't look at Rex, allowing him to hide in his shame. He continued on, looking at the files, "Probably should do somethin' huh?" He continued, pulling files from the shelf and skimming through them.

"Yes, Sir." Rex stood up, feeling something growing in him. A force he hadn't felt. Something deadly, but not death itself. A dark force clutching Rex's heart, whispering in his ear, "Run." Rex was going to leave, give Anakin a cold shoulder, disappear into a bacta tank for a week and act as if it would only be for his wellbeing. Like he wouldn't be hiding from him. Anakin.

"Nah, sit down, Rex." Anakin shook his head, pushing the file back in and wiping his hands on his tunic. Rex glared at him and sat back down, crossing his arms and leaning back. Anakin smiled, there was a flicker of light, Anakin smiled as he grabbed a med kit off the shelf and knelt in front of Rex. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for Rex to nod before reaching up and gently lifting Rex's face to get a better look at the cuts on his face. "I think," He mumbled softly, "You'll just need a few stitches and then some bacta patches."

Rex didn't say anything, looking at the shape of the door. His eyes watered as he tried to keep that anger festering. He couldn't hide anything from a Jedi, he couldn't hide anything from Anakin. Rex closed his eyes as he felt fresh stings and a chill against his hot cheeks. Anakin worked quietly and didn't say anything, but Rex was saying everything. He was uncomfortable, in pain, tired, and hiding. Soon enough, he'd spill or crack a little more. Anakin knew this. Only Anakin knew this.

There had been days. There had been moments, Rex trailing after Anakin, yelling, there had been a day, Rex threw his helmet to get Anakin to hear him. And he did... Hell, he did. There was a day, Rex choked and fell into Anakin's arms, forgetting rank, duty, and all other boundaries. He remembered crying in Anakin's arms. Anakin Skywalker. A brilliant, fearless hero, heart of gold, reckless to a fault. And Anakin, for all his proclaimed vanity and ego, held Rex in his arms and let him cry. They never spoke and that's when Rex realized he never had to talk again when it came to Anakin.

Rex let out a sigh, he was so tired. Being angry took up so much energy. He opened his eyes, the world was blurry, but Anakin wasn't. "Hey Rex." He whispered, glancing up with a smile, "Almost done, buddy." Rex didn't make a sound and allowed himself to think past this moment. He didn't always do that. Think about a tomorrow.

"-'m tired" He mumbled as he felt the bacta patches. He lifted his head when Anakin put his hands down, got up and sat next to Rex. Silence was Rex's favorite thing. It was always so loud, Anakin was always so loud. But there came a calm with the storm and Rex lived for those moments. Rex didn't know when Anakin learned to read his mind, but the Jedi simply, leaned back, closed his eyes and begun to drift off. He'd keep his Captain company. Rex sat there, staring at the floor as he fought to keep his eyes open, fought the urge to leave.

But he wasn't exactly on top of his health. He didn't have the energy. His stomach hurt from nothing, his head was pounding and his body was aching. So he closed his eyes. He closed his eyes and soon enough, Rex became lost from the moment. He had closed his eyes and fallen asleep. Which of the two fell asleep was not a question to be asked. But when Ahsoka went to grab a mop, she found the two of them, leaning against each other as they slept, she smiled fondly but closed the door, letting the moment become lost, for it wasn't hers. It was Rex's and it was Anakin's. The two of them, who never thought of moments like this, except, during

Times like these...

─── ❖ ── ✦ ── ❖ ───

[foggysirens]

look okay hanleia fics with little ben are actual so precious cause you know they'd both just be such good parents like even if their busy you know they would have made time cause han likes to hide it but he loves so deeply and is terrible at hiding it and leia is just so genuinely dedicated to her family and like them raising a big, himbo idiot son who tries and fails to be super cool and suave like he thinks his dad is while simultaneously just using the force to grab himself snacks and cheat at sabacc is way better than whatever the fuck disney did with this kyle guy

[weapn]

There's a total of 5 people she'd share her snacks with.

[bisexualvader]

what my notifs look like currently

[roselilies]

[hexgirling]

“that character is a war criminal” that character is from a fictional fantasy world and did not attend the geneva convention

[itsybitsybatsyspider]

i want that slut covered in blood and traumatized by his actions

[reevesartisse]

SITH! OBI-WAN & ANAKIN SKYWALKER | WHAT IF? STAR WARS BY ME. I always liked the idea of Obi-Wan corrupted by the dark side, so i made this. Star Wars really needs a what if show.

[dumb-djarin]

so what if I sucked his dick. his knuckles were split and bloody from defending my safety and my honour what else was I supposed to do

[spiderbae2319]

We don’t talk about Leia killing Jabba enough. Her grandmother and father were born into slavery. Her blood was that of the desert sand and the shackles of bondage. Leia was never more a Skywalker than the day she strangled her slave master with the very chains he used to bind her. The daughter of Anakin Skywalker was the one who killed Tatooine’s most notorious slaver, and I find that really beautiful.

[itshelia]

Taking anti-depressant pills?? Seeing a therapist??? Journaling???? No need babe, my fav writer just dropped another x reader fic.

[poltoreveur]

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

[aphrcdites]

the bond between a girl and their favorite fictional man is both an unstoppable force and an immovable object

[victoriartdrawings]