#and obi-wan didn't realize that

[yunamiudon]

The crystal 💎✨🌟💫

(I can't believe it's been almost 3 years since I painted this! ↓)

[fallout-lou-begas]

star wars queer headcanons are really funny to me not in a "haha cringe" way but because anything you headcanon for anakin obviously applies to darth vader too and the sentence "darth vader is bisexual" is just really so hilarious to me. imagining darth vader in full armor drinking iced coffee, cuffing his jeans (worn over the armor), sitting weird, and other extremely online bisexual cliches

[acewizardinspace]

I think the 'the jedi use child soldiers' thing is stupid for a lot of reasons, but among those is that this is a complete misunderstanding of how children's media works. Kids want to see themselves doing amazing things and giving that an in depth analysis that boils down to 'all these adults are evil' is poor, bad faith, media criticism.

That being said, if you compare Star Wars to just about any other YA work, the jedi are miles better as far as child care goes. Canonly every single one of these 'kids in danger' has a dedicated adult who is ideally supposed to be with them to teach and protect them. Very uncommon for the genre.

So if people are mad at the jedi for this, I can't fathom what their reaction to other YA literature is. And if they hate YA literature, idk, maybe they shouldn't be reading YA. Just a thought.

[magnusbae]

Hi! What about "Can you stay with me?" (and if you'd like it my bonus prompt is "drunk") 💗

The initial draft was written while I was quite literally fainting late at night & the second one fully rewritten while I am dazed and out of it. I would say that I was method writing Obi-Wan who is indeed very much drunk in this one, dearest anon. Thank you for the prompt~ 😊💖

+++

Obikin || 4,004w || Drunk Obi-Wan is agonized by the prospect of his freshly knighted Padawan leaving him behind— and more. 😌 Some flavors of gentle lime in this drink, very light, very sweet. 🍋💖

▾▾▾

"Can you stay with me?"

Obi-Wan Kenobi sounds properly pathetic and he knows it. Grasping at Anakin’s Tabards as he is, mind swirling in hazy circles around the notion he was doing his very best to avoid thinking about for the past few months. It is not long now that Anakin would look at his Master and see him for what he really was. Perhaps even today. Inebriated as he is, he makes for a good serving of disillusionment. All Anakin needs to do is look, and see, and then…

It seems inevitable—his Padawan will leave.

Former Padawan. Anakin is no longer his Padawan, and that is the heart of it, isn’t it? The severed braid was the firs step. Them having each a battalion of their own, stationed light years away from each other with only the occasional joint mission, a second. The third and final step would be for Anakin to finally open his eyes and look, and see.

It won’t be hard to unveil the carefully crafted Jedi Master facade Obi-Wan had cultivated for the past decade. No, it won’t be hard at all. If Anakin were to stop glorifying him, stop shaping him to be what ever form of idol he had needed for while growing up, if only he were to take an unbiased look at him…

There will no longer be, Kenobi and Skywalker.

For the naked truth was, Anakin had outgrown him, had become more powerful and capable than his Master. There’s little left that Obi-Wan could still offer, still teach. He should be proud. The only one still refusing to see it, is Anakin himself. Once that revelation comes to pass however, it will be complete. A true break, as befitting the Jedi way. Obi-Wan finds no peace in the thought, no completion nor satisfaction in the successful completion of his Padawan’s training—a symbol of his own Mastery.

Not when it means losing him. Not then.

Given his state of drunkenness, words slurred and feet unsteady, he thinks that it’s worth putting to question whatever or not he was a good Jedi at all, least of all a Master. Try as he might, he finds it hard to ponder further. His choice to look inward is as always an avoidance, an escape. An easy detour from looking outward, from looking at Anakin. Anakin who’s eyes he can feel like a physical touch, boring into his very soul.

Obi-Wan’s avoidance is nearly as strong as Anakin’s natural magnetism. One is counseling him to avoid looking, save himself the pain of witnessing the exact moment in which the realization dawns upon the boy. The second, stronger still, demands his undivided attention on him, demands him to look. Demands him. 

Obi-Wan looks up, he meets those eyes, his demise.

Anakin’s eyes widen and he blinks, endless blue clearing as if coming out of some sort of shock.

“Can I—” Anakin splutters “—Obi-Wan, even if the council explicitly ordered me to go save the entire karkin universe just now, I wouldn’t be leaving your side— stars you’ve any idea what you look like right now?

Obi-Wan’s tongue is heavy but he parts his lips to answer, something clever to be sure, he always finds something to say.

“No, never mind.” Anakin cuts in before he could speak. There’s such decisiveness in his tone, such confidence. His former Padawan stands tall, his arms are strong and sure as he handles Obi-Wan closer, making him lean more of his weight against his chest. It’s broad and firm. Obi-Wan should not be noticing those things, should not be aware of those things. It is a further evidence that his Padawan is well and truly grown. Further evidence of his own failing as a Jedi, as a Master, as a…man. Obi-Wan should not be inhaling and smelling home. Should not be leaning closer, itching all over for more, more.

“You’re so wasted that I am surprised you’ve even recognized me at all.” Anakin continues talking, as if the universe is not shifting beneath Obi-Wan’s feet as it is him who finally looks with his gaze unbiased. “The drunken messages though, those you will be seeing tomorrow” there’s dark mirth in that dear voice. “I bet you wanted to send them to— someone else.” Anakin glances at him, eyes narrowed.

Obi-Wan’s offenses at Anakin’s assumption he could ever not recognize him dies over under his gaze, dark and rich, his eyes are captivating. Before Anakin, he did not know that a blue can hold such multitudes. Both the clear morning sky, and the moon lit sky. Beautiful. They loosens his tongue as well as any truth serum would. That or the bottle he had finished on his own finally soaked through.

“I will always—”  His voice comes out so thick that he coughs, starting Anakin from his dark contemplations, whichever those might be. His eyebrows furrow and he quickly snatches a cup of something clear off of a passing robo-waitress’s tray. Irritated with the distraction, Obi-Wan accepts it and drinks if only to make way for the words to follow. He will not let it go. Not now that he’d started. “I will always recognize you, Padawan Mine, drugged, beaten, or otherwise preoccupied— I will always—” “Drugged?!” Anakin cuts in again, arms tightening around Obi-Wan and strangling the annoyed huff at being cut again “You did not mention anything about being drugged, what the kark’ Obi-Wan?!”

Obi-Wan’s mouth is dry, similar to how being drugged would feel. His mind swims and all he sees is Anakin. There’s warmth in his chest, there’s a burn in his gut, there’s a tug in his— 

“It’s hard to tell” he says sheepishly, embarrassed, eyes straying away from Anakin’s strong jaw and up, up to the lights on the ceiling. He should not be thinking of how Anakin’s proximity is enough to replicate a strong drug. How out of orbit he feels around him as of late. “They all start the same, so…” 

Anakin is hardly listening. Instead he is surveying the club with a look of fury that is bordering on homicidal, freeing one hand to rest it on his lightsaber. There’s the distinct feeling of Anakin stretching his force signature out, covering the room, no doubt attempting to locate anyone within their proximity who might have dared drug his former Master. Oh if only he knew that he was the culprit all along. 

Obi-Wan snorts, finding an odd sense of humor in it.

Anakin’s gaze darts back to him, sharp and accusing. He looks so handsome under the colorful, dim lights. He looks so… 

“Ah-nakin.” Obi-Wan sighs out and shuts his eyes lest his spinning head forces him to sober up in the most un-jedi manner.  

“Stay with me,” the request comes so easy, what was it that he was so afraid of? It’s so easy, too easy. Frighteningly so, to reach and touch Anakin’s forearm. There’s skin beneath his touch, warm and human, tense muscles beneath. “Ah” Obi-Wan sighs out in realization. Anakin had rolled the sleeves, so very unofficial for a Jedi and yet so very Anakin of him.

Master Windu would have hated it. It wouldn’t surprise Obi-Wan if this was exact reason why Anakin did it to begin with, after all, he was most adept to handling heat and was not bothered by it even while all else were. Obi-Wan really should have reprimanded the boy more often, should have stopped Anakin from executing all those harmless little vendettas of his while growing up.

If only he did not find them to be so endearing, so amusing. If only he was a better Master, a proper Master. He would have. 

His brain is foggy and he had already forgotten what was it it that he had hoped to achieve by touching Anakin, only that his fingers are circling his wrist and touching the spot at which he can feel his life pulsing. What a terrible habit it is, being intoxicated while negotiating. You should only ever drink enough to appear drunk, never more. How is he to get what he wants, when he has no ideas what it was? 

Obi-Wan’s eyelids are heavy when he tries to blink them open and focus on Anakin. There’s the signature frown, so familiar Obi-Wan can’t help but smile. Anakin is chewing his lips, a compulsion he had never managed to rid himself of. He looks torn between the need to locate and deal with the ‘enemy’, and…. Obi-Wan. 

The way Anakin looks, that should not be reminiscent of the targets Obi-Wan opts for charm as the main form of negotiation with. Should not stir the excitement of a hunt, of a game to be won. Obi-Wan should not use his looks to achieve his goals, he should not use them to get what he wants, he should be a better man than that.

Obi-wan is not a better man. 

Licking his own dry lips, he let’s go off of Anakin’s wrist and reaches for Anakin’s cheeks. There’s a tremble in the touch, his, Anakin’s? He is not certain. 

“Dear One, you can chase your enemies tomorrow.” He speaks in a hushed murmur, he hopes he sounds soft and alluring “Tonight, will you guard this drunk Master of yours?” he looks up, through his lashes, breathing shallowly, feeling hot, hot, hot all over. 

Anakin let’s go off of the lightsaber. It’s an answer enough to what he had picked. It still is deeply gratifying to feel the boy’s hand cover his own, guide it until he wraps his arm around Anakin’s shoulders. It’s an awkward angle, with Anakin being taller than he— he cares very little for it when Anakin wraps an arm around his waist. 

“Let’s go.” He is tight lipped and determined, guiding Obi-Wan out and into a speeder that is parked not far off. If Obi-Wan was even slightly more aware, he’d realize just how much attention the pair of them had draw, how all of the eyes had followed them out. Sometimes he forgets, how famous they had become during this accursed war. Sometimes, he is glad to not remember. 

Anakin is terribly efficient at getting them to the Temple. One blink of an eye they’re flying through the busy highways of Coruscant, the next he is tossed unceremoniously onto a bed that feels and smells familiar. His bed.

They’re in his quarters. Their quarters until very recently. He is breathing harder and he does not dare to think of why. If he does not think, it does not exist. He is self aware enough only to feel how disheveled his robes feel on his body, how messy his hair is, how hot his skin feels all over. He is a mess. 

“Dear one?” he questions. He refuses to acknowledge how his own tone drops, refuses to admit he is rolling his vowels in a way he knows thickens his accent in the most attractive of ways. He doesn’t know why he is flirting with Anakin Skywalker when the boy is barely out of his knighthood and is Anakin. His Anakin, his Anakin on whom he just looked in a way he really should not be looking at, through his eyelashes, with a heavy, wanting gaze. 

The redness of Anakin’s cheeks is evidence enough that he hears and understands the situation well enough. That he is very much aware of what his Master is doing. That he is… perhaps affected. 

Obi-Wan swallows, trying to push himself up to his elbows. He needs to sober up, he must tell him that he is merely jesting, that it is all a little tease, a little laugh, nothing more, just….

Anakin cuts him to it. Before he can excuse, or joke, or explain.

“Not while you’re drunk.” Anakin bites, sounding frustrated, lips swollen red from biting. Obi-Wan startles, surprised. 

What did Anakin just say? Imply?

Blatantly threw straight into his face, more like. 

Yes, but not while he is drunk.

Absurdly, a swell of pride fills his chest to the brim. Anakin’s manners and chivalry surprises him, pleases him. He had raised him well after all, he did not fail him, at least not in this.

His pleasure must bleed into the Force as Anakin regards him with a dark, baffled look. It’s so dark, most would find it intimidating, but for Obi-Wan it’s… dear. He can see the gentleness in that look, the care. There’s warmth in the force when Anakin insist on tucking him in, fingers methodical in the short, careful gestures. Tucking him in as if he was a child. Him, his Master. Former. 

Obi-Wan was tucked in only once in his lifetime, at least as far as he can remember. His first night in the Jedi Temple. So tense he was, so out of his depth, that the he was taken pity of, tucked in with a quiet promise of everything making sense soon. It helped.

It had never happen again. 

“Ahnakin.” he tries to protest, tries to pull a face of offended indigence. It’s hard to do when he is practically shining within the force. A single look from his apprentice is enough to quiet him down. 

“Master.” Anakin replies, and there’s a little eyeroll there. His cheeks are still flushed but he seems as determined as Obi-Wan to not address the Bantha in the room. “You really should be more careful” he lectures him in a way Obi-Wan can distinctly remember doing a few years back, when Anakin had gotten drunk for the first time. 

He leaves then, without a word. Obi-Wan’s throat closes and there’s a pang of pain in his heart. No this. He remembers now. Him. Leaving. That was the whole reason, that was why—

“Master?” Anakin sounds concerned, a glass of water and a container of what looks to be painkillers in his hands. “Are you sick?” a few strides and he is by Obi-Wan’s bed again, placing he glass and container at the bedside table. He looks well and truly worried. 

Unthinking, Obi-Wan sits up. So sudden that he does feel sick from the motion. He ignores it. He reaches for Anakin’s face with both hands, cupping his cheeks with a grip that is too strong, too desperate. A Jedi should not hold onto things with such fervor. 

All it takes for him to lean is to Anakin, is to stop resisting if only for a moment. Anakin’s pull was always there, stronger and stronger until it had become a daily challenge to ignore it, to pretend he does not feel it. All it takes is to stop resisting and his lips find Anakin’s, pressing against that plush softness, inhaling his exhale and finally, finally feeling anchored, inside the orbit he was always meant to circle.

He tilts his chin, leans in, knowing his beard will scratch pleasantly against the smooth jaw, kisses in deeper—

“Mahster—!” Anakin gasps into the kiss, a pang of shock and uncertainty clouding the force around them, sipping through the open nerves of their broken bond.  He does not want to take advantage of his Master, does not want him to end up hating him, does not want him to wake up and be disgusted, appalled— but he wants, he wants so badly. 

“Oh, Anakin.” Obi-Wan breathes out, unsure if it’s endearment of relief that fills him up with warmth, with lightness. One thing he is certain of, no one had ever been, or will be, as sweet, as kind, as dear as Anakin is to him. “I could never hate him.” There’s a drunken lisp to his voice, he needs a moment to correct himself. “You.” He manages, meeting Anakin’s eyes and not blinking, not wanting to miss a single moment. Wanting to see the exact moment in which Anakin realizes he is serious, that he is the most honest he’s been in years. 

Anakin seems to be realizing it too, his eyes widening and cheeks coloring a deeper red than before, he bites his lip.

“I might be…” Obi-Wan’s gaze drops to Anakin’s lips and he thinks about… “intoxicated…” he forces himself to look up, away from temptation, away from sin. “Drugged, possibly.” He is still not fully certain if he is, or it truly is just Anakin with a touch of alcohol. “But I am very much aware that…” he smiles before completing the sentence, it widens so much further with the words to come “…my Padawan simply cannot take advantage of his Master…” there’s really no need to be using this many terms of belonging, especially when they are outdated and irrelevant, but he just cannot… “On the contrary, I am the one who should be deeply ashamed for…mnnn-” 

Anakin’s lips quiet him up, he was never a patient listener, never could hear his Master finish a thought. This is the most effective he had ever been at cutting Obi-Wan’s line of thought, by far. He kisses him in a way Obi-Wan would have never guessed him capable of— it’s soft, sweet, patient. A tender thing, careful, loving. Obi-Wan gasps. Thinking, dazedly of how Anakin will grow to be an amazing lover, so attentive, a beast holding back his fangs in favor of gentle lips… 

The thought sets a burning coil of arousal deep in Obi-Wan’s gut.

Not good. Beyond not good. He should…. 

The thought is present and yet he licks at Anakin’s lips, asking for permission. He is granted one without resistance, without hesitance. Anakin’s lips part and he can taste him and oh, oh. Obi-Wan groans, muscles tensing as he shifts to sit straighter, moving a hand to Anakin’s nape and pulling him closer.

He nearly chokes when the boy sucks on his tongue, arousal shocking him into near soberness. 

“Anakin…” he knows, there’s not enough alcohol in the universe to convince him that this is not going too far, he knows and yet… 

He kisses Anakin again, a little hungrier, a little more wanting.

He must stop this madness. To think that he had started it, to think that he had taken advantage of his trusting, sweet—

“No, Master.” Anakin answers, and Obi-Wan wonders just how much of his shields is truly left if his thoughts can be read so easily, so plainly. “You’ve asked me to stay, and I will stay.” That assuredness is back, firm and leaving no space for argument. This is the same man who leads men on a battlefield, who commands, who leads. Obi-Wan finds it impossibly, undeniably, devastatingly attractive.

“You will sleep.” Anakin decides then, tearing his eyes away from Obi-Wan long enough to gesture at the lights, turning them off with the force. “And I will stay with you.” His eyes land back to Obi-Wan, dark mirth dancing in what Obi-Wan can still see of him. “To keep you safe, Master.” He is teasing him, the little devil.

“How will it even…” Obi-Wan doesn’t want to mention how narrow the bed really is, Anakin would know, with his constant complaints about how leg room and… 

“Don’t worry about that.” Anakin answers, confidence so cocky, so boyish that Obi-Wan huffs a surprised laughter, breaking into giggling when Anakin practically falls on top of him. They struggle like that, laughter mixing, limbs tangling, hair in a mouth and fingers against sides— Anakin captures him then, they’re on their sides, Anakin’s back is firm as he pulls Obi-Wan all the way to himself, forming….

“Absolutely not!” Obi-Wan’s voice raises and breaks a little, attempting to wriggle out of the trap he inadvertently fell into. There’s still some pride life in him. He will not permit this Jedi Knight, his former Padawan no less, big spoon him, 16 years his senior and former Master. Force be his witness, he will not allow it.

Anakin makes a suffering, exasperated exhale when Obi-Wan manages to slip out of his grip— only to be yanked back by the force. All he manages is a choked gasp of protest before the air is knocked out of him, his back hitting a firm chest a little too hard. There’s a vindictive sort of satisfaction in hearing Anakin chokes out a surprised exhale too, clearly, he did not account for the impact being this strong.

“Karkin’ hell…” he hears the boy muttering and snorts out, laughing even while Anakin wraps his mechno-arm around him, pulling him back into the not-as-offensive as before little spoon position. Fine, he thinks. He’ll allow it, just for this one night…. 

His eyes close and he shudders when Anakin’s nose press against his nape, he can feel the slow, deep inhale— can feel the content exhale that follows. 

“Finally.” Anakin breathes out, as if he was waiting for this moment longer than the few minutes  just now. Like he needed it, himself. Like it was not Obi-Wan, pathetic and alone, messaging his former Padawan while drunk beyond reason that led him here, but his own needs, own wants. Like he needed this too, him. Like he needs him. Obi-Wan. 

“Oh Force…” Obi-Wan calls upon it without realizing, without meaning it. Only the force can stand witness to this moment, judge it, measure it. Guide him, tell him right from wrong. “Force.” His voice trembles with it, realizing for the first time that Anakin does see him, in truth, does and still…

“It’s fine with it.” Anakin remarks, nonchalant, amusement coloring the timbre of his voice. “You don’t have to shout at her, I don’t think she like it very much” Anakin refers to the Force differently every time, Obi-Wan suspects he does it simply for the joy of throwing off the younglings.

It unsettles Obi-Wan as well, he will not admit that much, though. Anakin’s connection with the force was always stronger, always different than anyone else’s. If he’s saying that the Force is not finding this offensive…. Obi-Wan will trust him. Anakin enjoys messing around at times, stretching the truth about how the Force works, but he’d never lie about this, not to him. 

Obi-Wan’s body relaxes so completely that he practically sags into Anakin, relief, so much relief. It feels…. Good. There’s rightness to it that even without the Force humming pleasantly in his ears, he’d recognize. Like sharing a sleeping cot in the war zones, minus the blood and gore and pain… it feels secure, it feels…good…. 

He feels himself being lulled to what he suspects will be a long and restful sleep. Such a luxury as of late. “Mnh..” He jolts a little when a hand moves across his side, resting at his hip bone and then back up to his side. He should not permit Anakin this much leeway with him and yet…. He likes it… oh he likes it.

So he doesn’t comment it, allowing him to continue, to stroke him and care for him, and hold him. He is not leaving. 

Sleep comes ease, as easy as an inhale. One moment he is aware of all that surrounds him, the scent and warmth, the weight and touch. The next he is sinking into the open embrace of rest. Distantly, he feels the touch of a Force Signature he knows as well as his own. It is the only half of it, after all. Accepting it, is as easy as breathing too. 

There’s a distant shift, even in sleep he can feel the bond snapping back into place, like moons falling into a familiar route, circling a singular sun. Maybe it was not Anakin who was the sun around which Obi-wan was circling all along, but their shared….

[tennessoui]

if you feel like it ever, i would LOVE to know wtf qui was thinking sending obi undercover in the playmaker au

did he think he could handle it? did he think it would be a dose of reality? did he just want him out of sight out of mind for a bit? or like??

i love this au so much!!!

hello hello here is ~2k of playmaker vader having a conversation with qui-gon jinn about the one thing they have in common (obi-wan)

this snippet takes place after this ficlet but before this ficlet, so obi-wan is currently in jail, being held before his trial begins because he killed a man in self-defense and will be sent to prison

i think to have the real, detailed answer to your question, the scene would have to be qui-gon talking to obi-wan (after his release from prison), but i really wanted to write anakin antagonizing qui-gon and goading him and taunting him because i missed writing playmaker!vader

(2k)

Truly, Anakin is showing a level of restraint here that they should write heroic ballads about. 

He is unarmed and alone, though he knows that the man in front of him knows that both these things can change within a second. He is being cordial. He is being kind. He is being open and showing good faith here, all to the one man who deserves his kindness as much as he deserves his son’s forgiveness.

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon Jinn tells Ahsoka as she places a heavy, covered dish down on the table in front of him. Ahsoka’s mouth twitchces, but she keeps her face expressionless. She knows her role in this exchange. She knows what Vader needs her to be, which is a silent member of the waitstaff, posted at the edge of the room, hands behind her back holding a knife.

It’s Rex that lifts the dome cover from the plate in synchrony with three other members of the staff doing the same up and down the table. It’s all so much. Too much food for two men who did not sit down to eat.

Anakin leans back in his chair at the head of the table. His usual spot. His usual table. The noise of the restaurant below them leaks through the mahogany doors as the wait staff slip through them. All but his men remain, dressed as they are to blend in amongst the other servers.

“Ah,” Qui-Gon Jinn says, looking at the dishes on the table. Bone-in fish, eye staring up. Coq au vin, sauce still bubbling. Boeuf bourguignon, sitting closest to the police chief. Lamb chops, further down, meat a perfect pink, red juice staining the white dijon sauce around it.

“You should try the coq au vin, sir,” Anakin says, snapping his fingers. Throwing him a deadly look of disdain, Ahsoka strides forward to scoop a serving of the dish onto Qui-Gon Jinn’s plate. Likewise, Rex takes his plate silently and ladles out a scoop of mashed potatoes, covering them with the bourguignon before setting it back in front of Anakin.

Rex knows the importance of appearance. Ahsoka, unfortunately, is still not quite sure why they bother. All this, for a rat. 

Because he is fond of her, Anakin will do his best to educate her once more. Later. 

“It is your son’s favorite,” Anakin adds, holding up a hand to dismiss Rex and Ahsoka back to their positions against the wall.

“My son is a vegetarian,” Qui-Gon Jinn says, skin around his eyes tight as his hands clench together in his lap.

“No, sir,” Anakin replies, resting his chin on his knuckles as he looks across the table at his guest. “You are a vegetarian.”

“Ah,” Qui-Gon says, one eyebrow arching. “I wasn’t sure if you knew. I suppose then that the notable lack of any dishes I am able to eat should be taken as a snub? A power struggle? I am at your table, Mr. Skywalker, as a guest.”

“Your son,” Anakin murmurs, leaning back in his chair, “simply adores that recipe. I ask my chefs to make it almost daily for him. He enjoys sitting in my lap and licking the wine sauce off my fingers.”

Jinn’s jaw clenches momentarily before he seems to calm himself. He takes his napkin from the table and unfolds it carefully in his lap.

“Why do you think that is?” Anakin asks before Jinn can speak. “If he is a vegetarian.”

“I could not say.”

“Answer me this, then,” he says. “Was Ben supposed to be a vegetarian?”

Jinn’s eyes cut to his own. They’re dark and narrowed. His jaw bunches.

“You can’t blame me for being curious, you know,” Anakin murmurs. “I have yet to untangle what parts of your son belong to Obi-Wan Kenobi, and what parts are Ben Lars. I thought, as his father, you may be in the best position to help me.”

Jinn’s nostrils flare. “Why would you think I would be inclined to do that?”

“Well, you seem so disinclined to help him,” Anakin says. His hand finds the knife to the side of his plate and he flicks it between his fingers idly. “You can’t blame me for trying to better understand your motivations.”

“I am helping him,” Jinn says. His tone is short, his lips barely moving. “Getting him as far away from you as possible, that’s helping him.”

“You are single-handedly ensuring that he will spend months in a prison cell,” Anakin bites back, fury rising at the very thought. His little mouse. Alone in a cell. Worse, sharing a cell with someone else.

“Better than spending any more time with you, Skywalker!” Jinn snaps, and he finally turns his head to face him completely. There is something so furiously smug about his expression that it makes Anakin’s teeth clench, his control slip. “You may have half the city in your pocket, Vader, but I only need one judge, one warden in mine, and you won’t be able to see him at all.”

Rex shifts at his post against the wall. He knows Vader well enough to know that nothing good can come from a threat like that. A threat to take his little mouse away from him before he’s finished playing.

Vader’s knife thrusts cleanly through the wood of the table as his face twists into a snarl. Jinn must die. He is the one man in all of Coruscant that could ever challenge Anakin Skywalker’s claim on Obi-Wan Kenobi. He is the one man stupid enough to.

But Jinn cannot die. Not here. Not now. So Anakin carefully unfurls his fingers from the hilt of the knife and rests them on the table next to his plate. Carefully. So carefully. 

Obi-Wan has been held by the city police for the last week and a half. A trial will begin in just a little over a month. There is very little doubt that the trial will end with a prison sentence for his little mouse, though his lawyers assure him that no sentence can be issued for a period of time longer than a few months, given that Obi-Wan’s murder of Savage Oppress had been in self-defense and the worst thing he’d done was try to cover it up, thereby obstructing justice.

The city feels empty without him beside Anakin. He still flicks on the lights of his penthouse, expecting Obi-Wan to be waiting for him, but all that greets him every time he returns are morose children, crying and pleading for him to bring their Ben back.

And here is the orchestrator of it all, sitting at his table and not touching a single dish, sneering at him as if he really truly thinks he is saving his son. As if he truly thinks there is such a thing as saving his son anymore.

As if he truly still thinks he has a son. As if that son did not die so that Anakin can have his little mouse. It’s pathetic.

It’s dangerous, too.

It’s the reason why Qui-Gon Jinn is here, in Anakin’s restaurant, in Obi-Wan’s seat. Because someone has to tell him. Someone has to disavow him of the notion that any part of Obi-Wan still belongs to Qui-Gon Jinn. He had his chance and he lost it all. He lost him all.

The thought and the truth of it calms Anakin’s breathing, and he leans back in his chair to study Qui-Gon Jinn.

“May I ask you a question?” he asks, head tilted to the side so he can prop his chin on his closed fist once more. “Father to father.”

Jinn’s eyes narrow, but he inclines his head. He must know that one must sometimes walk into a few traps to get anywhere at all.

“Hypothetically,” Anakin murmurs. “Let’s say you’re right. Let’s say that there is a man in the city, powerful and cruel and monstrous. Clever and wicked and terrible. Let’s say he controls half the city. No, let’s be generous. Let’s say this one man, who isn’t a politician, who isn’t in government or business, let’s say he owns the loyalty of three-fourths of the city. Judges in his pocket. Policemen too. Politicians. Other powerful men from other cities.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rex twitch, and Anakin’s lips curl up into a smile.

“Hypothetically, we’re talking about a very dangerous man. One who could theoretically kill and get away with it. One that sells drugs, sells sex, sells weapons, sells whatever he wants, right under the city council’s nose. As the police chief, your job is to bring him down, isn’t it? Bring him in. Bring him to justice. Hm?” He sets his elbow on the table, tilting his head as he studies the man before him.

“My question is, if you really think a man like that exists, one that has all that power, one that can make people just…disappear without a word, without an investigation…why the hell do you send your son to find the evidence? Bring him in? Shouldn’t that be your job? Shouldn’t you want to keep someone so soft and so precious as far away from that monster as possible?”

Qui-Gon Jinn’s eyes darken. His nostrils flare. “My son is an accomplished detective. He—”

“He was,” Anakin corrects lazily. “He was an accomplished detective, but he resigned a year ago, I believe.”

“He had the top scores in his graduating class,” Jinn bites out. “A face no one would recognize. He knew to be careful. He—” Jinn’s jaw clenches, bulges out, and then he is quiet.

“He was your son,” Anakin says, because he has spent a rather lengthy amount of time thinking about this. “And you knew how much he loved you. How much he wanted to prove himself to you. You thought he’d be cautious. You planned to whore him out and you didn’t think his loyalty to the cause would waver?” Qui-Gon stands abruptly, tossing his napkin over the food. The red of the sauce stains the white of the fabric.

“Did you hope I would kill him?” Anakin asks, remaining in his seat. Rex coughs. “Hypothetically,” Anakin adds. “If I killed him, he would be a martyr to the cause. If I killed him, you could drag his corpse in front of the city council, tell them that it was time to do something about the monster in the woods. Did you hope he would die? Do you really love your son so little?”

Jinn’s chair skitters back from the force of his movements. It teeters on its back two legs before falling to the ground with a clatter. “I love my son,” Jinn says quietly in a voice choking with rage, “more than you ever could understand. More than you could ever love anyone.”

Now Anakin stands, carefully placing his napkin on the table beside his plate. “Not according to your son, I’m afraid,” he tells him. A parting blow. “I will see you in court, I’m sure. After all, you are the lead expert for the prosecution, yes?”

He smiles and dips his head in farewell as he waves Rex and Ahsoka forward to escort Jinn out.

It had not been the most informative luncheon, but it had left him feeling rather accomplished for no other reason than that he had not seen Jinn so shaken since the first policeman’s ball Obi-Wan had attended on Vader’s arm. 

With no one to warm his bed but the cruel absence of his little mouse, Anakin takes great joy in whatever victories he is allowed.

[kenobky]

do you think he likes being tied up?

[thechaoticfanartist]

Do you think Grim ever thinks about the fact she's training her childhood hero?

[queenlucythevaliant]

I'm watching Star Wars with my roommate, she hasn't seen any of it and she is completely unspoiled I am LIVING

[callmevexx]

Satine as Zelda WIP✍️

[agirlunderarock]

Jedi General

Summary: After the events of Geonosis, Obi-Wan is facing a lot of different changes in his life and is doing his best to not feel overwhelmed.

Pairings: None

Warnings: canon typical references

Read on AO3

A/N: I jus really wanted to write a scene about the first time Obi-Wan had to put on the armor and was told he was going to be a general. I had wanted to get this out before Tales of the Jedi came out but you know that never works out lol. Anyways hop you enjoy!

For once in the thirty-five years Obi-Wan had lived in the jedi temple, the Coruscant traffic wasn’t the loudest thing in the temple. Within the last few days the temple had been buzzing with the news from Geonosis. Fallen jedi were brought in and prepared to be laid to rest each day. He wondered how much of his fallen family  had to stay behind in  the red dust  of the desert  planet. He hoped  he wouldn’t be attending more funerals for fallen jedi soon. The silence that engulfed each ceremony felt too heavy and brought with it memories of the first one  he had attended ten years ago. 

Obi-Wan looked down at the duraplast armor set neatly at the foot of his bed. He himself had set it there only a few moments ago, but it felt as if he had been staring at it for ages. If he were honest, it had felt rather flimsy, not nearly thick enough to really stop a blaster bolt from burning a hole in his chest, much less a lightsaber. After all thats what the armor was for, right? Wearing the flimsy armor made about as much sense to him as being at the center of the Republic’s civil war. 

It had only been a few days since the fighting broke out on Geonosis, a good portion of it he had actually missed after his spectacular failure to capture Count Dooku, and yet Obi-Wan felt the weight and the loss fall heavy on his shoulders. He sat on the edge of his bed and rubbed his hands over his face, still trying to process what had exactly led him to this moment. Of course he could recall the sequence of events that led to him fighting for his life in an arena for the amusement of hundreds, possibly thousands, of Geonocians, but his mind struggled to make the jump from Jedi Knight to now Jedi General.

General.

Just the thought of the words made his stomach churn. He could tell himself that it was just because had probably spent just a little too long in a bacta tank after his duel with Dooku, that the motion of the liquid had given him some kind of vertigo, but he knew better.

He stood up abruptly, and paced over to his window, as if just being near it would somehow let him breathe better. His stomach churned, his throat closed up, and the weight of an army sat on his shoulders. His lightsaber felt heavy on his hip, and it slowly dragged him down to sit on the floor. 

This was ridiculous.

It was just a few pieces of duraplast. A flexible material. Anakin had said it was fairly light and easy to move in. Realistically, it wouldn’t be protecting a whole lot of his more…delicate areas, but none of the other jedi he had spoken to seemed overly concerned about it. At least not openly. He should be able to move and fight in it just fine. Maybe that was the problem. Not so much that the armor would stop him, Obi-Wan was sure that if he put on the chest piece it would fit just fine and wouldn’t hinder his movement. Maybe it was more that no one else seemed so concerned about it, at least not in a way that made sense to him. Jedi were peace keepers. They were meant to defend innocent people from the horrors of the galaxy.

Peace keepers? Do you keep all the peace for yourself?

The memory of the woman’s accusation twisted painfully in his chest. She had made that comment before she had gotten to know him or Anakin, and truthfully it had been made just to distract him at the time, but now he felt the weight of that question pounding painfully in the back of his skull. Or maybe it was just the lack of sleep catching up to him. He took a deep breath and sat up a little straighter, crossed his legs and let out his breath slowly. Maybe that question was the place to start.

Peace Keeper.

What did that mean? When Obi-Wan had been a young initiate he had painted this picture of himself as a jedi sweeping into dangerous and daring situations and single handedly saving the day. There were clear lines between good and evil, and he always understood which side was which. A solution was just a smart quip away. If he were honest, he was glad that he realized the world wasn’t that simple. As a padawan training under Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan had experienced many planets and met different people toiling under different kinds of conflicts. He thought of his adventure on Lenarah, and later Pijal. 

Lenarah had been a lesson for him about learning balance and being adaptable. He couldn’t bring his friends peace until he dealt with his own fears. Pijal was a reminder to him and Qui-Gon that things aren't always as they appeared. He supposed that was a lesson worth learning several times, the most recent coming from the woman on Zolan. On both Pijal and Zolan, Republic indifference had been contributing to the problem on both planets. As far as he knew on Zolan, it was still an issue. Being a peace keeper didn’t necessarily mean upholding every ruling the republic had, sometimes it meant stepping in where the Republic had failed.

Jedi

Ten years ago Obi-Wan had thought he fully understood what it meant to be a jedi. That he had been ready for the trials and whatever new challenges he would face as a new jedi knight. Ten years ago, Obi-Wan also thought he would have had more time with Qui-Gon Jinn. That he would have had his guidance when things became overwhelming. To say that he had felt overwhelmed was an understatement. Even now- 

No. He couldn’t give in to that spiral.

Being a Jedi came with its own set of challenges, many of which he did not choose for himself, and others he had quite forgotten if he chose them or if they were thrust on him. Training Anakin fell into that line of thought most days. Even now as he had seen Anakin through to his knighthood, and despite feeling immensely proud of his young friend, it pained him to know that he couldn’t say if training him was a choice he would have made himself if Qui-Gon hadn’t died. 

Obi-Wan took a deep breath and slowly let it out.

It was easy to say now that he knew how it ended, Obi-Wan would go back and make that choice for himself. That he would train Anakin, or at the very least help with his training had Qui-Gon still been alive. Saying that now was the easy part, but if only because he was still trying to wrap his mind around everything he learned while teaching Anakin and was still learning from him. That was something Obi-Wan really never noticed as an initiate or a padawan, that a jedi was always learning and teaching. Yes, being a Jedi Knight meant that he was a protector, and defended innocent life, sometimes in daring rescue attempts, but he was not without compassion or empathy. His lightsaber was rarely the first tool he reached for. His greatest ability as Jedi, and from what he had seen of the other masters, was their compassion, and sense of duty to serve the Galaxy, not just the Republic. Being a Jedi Knight meant that he was constantly trying to live out the lessons that he learned, let go and grow from the things that troubled him.

Accepting change was likely the hardest lesson Obi-Wan had to learn, and one he was still attempting to master. He lived in a constant state of motion. If he chose to continue to meditate on this issue for another hour or two, it would do nothing to change the inevitable fact that he was being tossed into a war, or that he was now to be a Jedi Master on the council, or that Anakin was no longer his padawan. That change would still be there when he opened his eyes. He had to accept that. He had to accept that he would now be a Jedi General.

Sometimes upsetting the ‘balance’ is the only thing that can bring peace. Living quietly under an unjust status doesn’t mean a planet is at peace.

Though the memory was an abrupt intrusion to his mediation, and at the time when the words were spoken to him he was very upset with the woman, Obi-Wan leaned into that thought. It was an interesting idea she had proposed. Breaking peace to bring peace. Upsetting the balance to bring equality was surely a baffling contradiction that made as much sense as Jedi General. At the time he hadn’t been sure it was something he agreed with, but after experiencing and reflecting on many of the conflicts he came into he felt there was some truth to it.

He had to wonder if this was the kind of mentality that many of the Sepratist political leaders had. After spending years trying to have their voice heard by the Republic Senate and the Chancellor, they’ve decided to upset the balance of a system they felt was corrupt. It made sense to an extent. Their separation was merely a symptom of a corrupt system. The droid army would then be a precautionary measure, a means to defend themselves. But there was more to it. Planets who had not chosen to leave the Republic were being invaded and occupied by Sepratist forces. That wasn’t defensive. Not in any way that made sense.

“Why didn’t you join him? I would have thought you agreed with everything Count Dooku said,” Obi-Wan had asked the shapeshifter from Zolan as they were chained to the pillars of the Geonocian arena.

“I probably chose wrong huh?” She had laughed, despite the fear in her eyes. “I actually did agree with what he said,” she admitted, “Too much of it actually. It was like he was getting in my head and saying exactly what he thought I wanted to hear. I don’t know if he’s being truthful or not. But you didn’t trust him, and I trust you. I trust your judgment. ”

Someone he had once thought was an enemy, gave up the chance to take everything she wanted for her planet. He felt the corners of his mouth twitch upward as he leaned more into the memory. It was easy to recall their talk in the infirmary. She had made it clear, it wasn’t just because he didn’t trust Dooku that made her take her chances in the arena, that made her give up what even to him, sounded like an easy way to help her people, but because Obi-Wan had taken a chance to trust her and took the time to understand what was happening on her planet. That he understood exactly how she wanted to help her people, and that if the Republic had people like him and Anakin serving it, then it couldn’t be beyond hope.

Perhaps that was why the Chancellor proposed the Jedi lead the Republic armies. Not for any strategic military purpose where being trained over the course of a lifetime to not let emotional responses guide ones actions would be extremely beneficial. Perhaps it was as simple as this was an opportunity for them to teach the Republic, and learn from their mistakes. When the battles ended what would become of the innocent people caught in the crossfire was important. The best people to decide how they wanted to be governed would be the people of those planets. Though the jedi would be military leaders, they could also be mediators, repair the broken trust between these planets and the republic. It happened before, this civil war might just be the result of things being unresolved for so long. 

Perhaps that was a bit arrogant to think that the jedi could do all of that. That they should be accepting that responsibility, but they weren’t doing it alone right? There was a place for the jedi to work alongside the troops, but also individual planets, they could still be mediators in this war right? He had to believe that. It would be foolish to think that would be how things would stay, the galaxy was in a constant state of motion, but it mattered how he adapted to it. He just had to be mindful when making those decisions as they came.

Obi-Wan slowly opened his eyes and took another deep breath, his eyes focused on the point where his wall and ceiling met above his bed. The weight of these new responsibilities didn’t feel any lighter, but he felt that he could at least face them now. He could tread water for a little longer before feeling overwhelmed again. He lowered his gaze back onto the duraplast armor sitting neatly on his bed. The sunlight streaming in through the window behind him reflected off the white chest piece, as if shining the light on the final solution to the fog still lingering in his mind. 

Another deep breath in and out, and Obi-Wan was back on his feet and holding the armor in his hands. He still did not like the uncertainty that came with the title General, and Jedi General still felt like the biggest contradiction he had ever come across, but this was what the galaxy was calling him to be Jedi, and a General.

Slowly Obi-Wan unclasped each piece of duraplast, checking each piece for flaws or damage before putting it over his robes. He quickly found that not all of it would fit with his normal jedi attire, nor would his boots be as sturdy- For as long as he had been staring at the armor set, he was only just realizing that he had been provided with new boots, and fitted black pants and a matching shirt. He supposed that was supposed to fit under the armor. Before putting anything on, or taking anything off, Obi-Wan laid each piece opened up and laid out for him to look over. There was a lot more than he had realized.

First he put on the undersuit. It hugged his body more firmly than he cared for. He imagined it would be easy to suffer heat exhaustion in such clothing. He would need to make sure the men in his command always had water. Next came his boots. White durables was layered over sturdy but flexible leather and he found that he didn't fully dispise the way they fit him. They didn't seem to breathe as well as his jedi issued ones, but he supposed he would get used to that, as well as the weight. The smaller pieces that made up armor along his arm. He would definitely need to learn to tune out the odd plastic scraping sounds. It was much more the same when he put on the pieces around his legs, and thighs, the chest piece, something he could only assume was to protect his neck and collar bone and sat awkwardly underneath the shoulder pads.

Even as he looked at himself in the small mirror above his sink, Obi-Wan couldn’t be sure he had it all on correctly. It felt awkward to move. Pieces rubbed awkwardly against different parts of his body. He reached for his lightsaber, practicing the movement as if that would help. But he didn't feel like himself. He guessed that was part of the point. He wasn't just a jedi knight anymore, he was a general and everyone expected a general to look a certain way. He supposed that with the complete armor on, all traces of his jedi training hidden under it or only present in his lightsaber, he did look like a military General. Someone who could be on the front lines with their men charging through enemy forces.

Obi-Wan internally cringed at the thought. His younger self would have been delighted with that thought. Only his long hair brushing his shoulders seemed to break that image. He found that satisfying. A small piece of himself still poking out through the armor. Obi-Wan continued to study his image a moment longer. He was sure that if Anakin had walked in at that moment he surely would have poked fun, but this wasn't for the sake of vanity.

It felt wrong. Of course it would probably always feel wrong, but this was something outside his frustration with the contradiction of Jedi General. Or maybe it wasn't. He definitely looked like a general, but not a jedi. He decided to remove some of the bulkier pieces, the chest piece, the parts on his thighs poked into his hips, and he slid part of robes back under his shoulder pieces. The only thing missing was his belt. 

He took a deep breath once he had it on and looked back to the mirror. Of course his chest and other more fragile bits were more exposed to blaster fire now, but he at least seemed recognizable as a jedi. The parts of his robe made him feel like he would stand out more. Maybe that would be detrimental when on the battlefield, but if he was going to die in this war, and he likely was, he wanted the first thing for anyone to notice about him was that he was a jedi. No matter the circumstance, whether in the heat of battle or delivering relief aid, he wanted to be known as a jedi first above any other title he might have.

[pandora15]

it kinda just hit me that the kenobi series makes what luke says about obi-wan in tlj 10000% sadder because. we see exactly how difficult it was for obi-wan to overcome and find himself again, and that luke himself had a big part to play in that, especially since obi-wan climbed out of the rocks in the final episode when he thought of leia and luke.

but then luke says that darth vader was obi-wan's fault in tlj and i'm —

sad.

especially when you think about the fact that force ghost obi-wan was probably watching him when he said that and we know exactly how much he struggled with his guilt over what had happened to anakin and i just.

i've been meaning to write a fic centered around obi-wan reacting to luke's comments and i outlined it but never got around to it. hm.

anyways, star wars is pain, thanks for coming to my ted talk

[hauntedorpheum]

Hughie saw that his role was that of "the canary", and he accepted it but considering how he has always wanted to be seen as stronger, powerful, etc. I wonder how he really feels about it. If he resents the fact that that's the role he was given and I wonder if now he will openly reject it

[dykefaggotry]

I think the age of prequels stans is rising as gen z reaches adulthood bc today me, a customer, and my new coworker all started discussing star wars and were like "okay but the prequels are the best ones. like everyone says the ot but we grew up on the prequels, those are OUR star wars" like yes!!!!! the age of original trilogy elitism is DYING it's time for prequel supremacy as we reach the age of adults who hold up the star wars fandom.

[tennessoui]

Goddddd I want Anakin to never quite forgive Obi-Wan for that stunt. Yeah his mind is broken, yeah Obi-Wan will give him a nice cocktail of genuine remorse and expert manipulation, yeah he’s endlessly devoted to him and wants them to live happily ever after, but ohhhh he’ll never get over it… and Obi-Wan becoming aware of it years later… delicious

i have to be honest it took me at least a few hours of quiet contemplation to figure out which au this was for i was completely torn between either 'lost to a sea of troubles' or 'vowbreaker' and obviously it's vowbreaker because we were JUST talking about vowbreaker but i was like 'mind breaking could definitely vibe with knocking on the wrong door au for sure for sure'

anyway

i feel like there eventually has to be some sort of unhealthy forgiveness or moving past it, but who knows how long it takes. i feel like months after obi-wan comes back, he wakes up one night to anakin straddling him with a knife to his throat, crying, and anakin is like 'i should kill you for what you did to me'

and obi-wan is like 'i know.' and hes like 'would you at least do me the honor of killing me with your hands, darling, so i can feel your skin against mine one last time?'

and obviously anakin can't do it but it keeps happening, every few months, a wound so deep and wide obi-wan wonders if it can ever be fully patched up and what the scar would look like if it were

[friendly-jester]

not me just now realizing solo and obi-wan kenobi take place around the same time

[thechaoticfanartist]

Grim being determined to change fate in TCWGANV to the point that she refuses to accept that she can't save everyone even when she fails vs Grim not trying to change the ending in ALATL but that doesn't mean she's not going to stop saving who she can, even if it isn't everyone