#but for sure most of it will be from anakin&obi-wan’s pov

[renlyslittlerose]

Today's drabble is 'First Kiss'. This is a quick little drabble set in the Moonlight Serenade universe. This is from Padmé's POV during a visit back home. Takes place summer 1952~

---

Padmé wondered if Anakin knew about all the subtle ways Obi-Wan cared for him.

She wondered if he knew that Obi-Wan always stood to his right, their shoulders brushing, only a few inches of space between them as they navigated through crowds and public spaces. That it was Obi-Wan who protected Anakin’s injured side, blocking it from view and from touch, always mindful of where he was in relation to Anakin’s arm, keeping it safe within the shadows of his form.

Or how when Anakin’s manufactured bravado and fake cheer would wear down, instead replaced with weariness and irritation, Obi-Wan would tilt his head upward just to hear Anakin’s soft voice grow ever softer, and to breath in the words Anakin spoke. Obi-Wan never asked Anakin to speak up, to put on a show, to smile and laugh and coddle those he normally might disappoint. Instead he changed his own demeanour to fit that of Anakin’s, bringing his energies down until they swayed together like reeds in a lake.

Or when Anakin’s smile became tight, his shoulder tense, his eyes glassy with pain, Obi-Wan would grip his residual arm and hold. A friendly gesture, to the unknowing gaze, but filled with so much love and care it sometimes hurt to see. Obi-Wan would replace Anakin’s pain with something else to focus on - the stern yet still tender touch of a lover. The ache in his arm and the stinging in his skin would be replaced with the heat of Obi-Wan’s palm and the strength in his hand, grounding and steady as Anakin trembled through the memories of an agony not yet finished.

She knew, of course, Anakin noticed the most obvious things. Like how Obi-Wan would hold his plate at dinner events and pile it high with foods, asking Anakin what he wanted as they went down the tables, making sure Anakin’s belly was sated before he’d see to his own needs. Or how he tied Anakin’s tie and helped with the laces of his shoes when asked; how he styled his hair in the morning, and ruined in the evening; how he shaved along the curve of Anakin’s jaw and down the stretches of his neck; or how he cut the meats and vegetables for their dinners while Anakin did what he did best in the kitchen - make a mess.

And other stills, that Obi-Wan didn’t know she knew. Things more intimate that Anakin would confess over the phone, his voice bright with cheer as he detailed the latest night of passion, Padmé curling the phone cord over her finger as she laughed and sneaked glances into the living room to make sure no one could overheard the detailed descriptions.

Padmé wondered if he knew. Because she did.

“Padmé?”

Padmé blinked and turned to her mother. They were stood on the back steps of her parents estate, summer sun shining down on the backyard party. Vancouver had rolled out the nice weather for her visit, the skies clear and the winds gentle, the smell of roses fresh in the air. She’d missed this.

“Sorry, mother,” she said, and kissed her cheek quickly before venturing down into the party, a tray of cocktails in her hand that she’d offered to take out to the party.

The grass was cool on her bare feet, and she greeted those she passed by with a smile and an offer of a drink. By the time she’d reached Anakin and Obi-Wan, the tray was empty save for two glasses of gin and tonic.

“Fancy a drink?” she asked.

Anakin’s hand was occupied by a plate with the leftovers of cake on it, so Obi-Wan - as was expected - took both glasses and raised one to her in appreciation.

“Lovely party,” Obi-Wan said. He glanced around the space, his aviators sitting on the bridge of his nose, hiding away his blue eyes that Anakin had described to Padmé more times than once all those years ago. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re welcome, though I’m sorry I haven’t been able to chat much.”

“It’s been six years since your last visit,” Anakin said, the word ‘six’ sitting heavy in the air. “It’s natural people would want to spend time with you.”

His shrug brought Padmé’s attention to his shirt. It was a pretty green silk and short-sleeved, the lapels broad and the top few buttons opened. Padmé could see Anakin’s scars along his chest, and his residual arm poked out at the bottom of his sleeve, exposing it to the world.

“I like your shirt,” Padmé said.

Anakin smiled, though it seemed hesitant. “Obi-Wan bought it for me.”

Adoration filled Padmé then. Of course he had, because he knew Anakin wouldn’t buy it for himself. Because he still cared what others thought; still hid from the world despite it all; still faltered where confidence would be best.

But Obi-Wan knew how beautiful Anakin was, and made Anakin believe it. If only for a short while.

“Ani, I forgot my pocket mirror in my purse back inside. Could you go and grab it for me?” Anakin made move to leave, but Padmé stopped him to grab his plate, replacing it with the drink tray. “And take this back inside, will you? Give it to Samantha.”

Anakin rolled his eyes but did as instructed, his long legs carrying him quickly through the throngs of people. He still cut quite the image, broad shoulders and slim waist making him look more a model from one of the catalogs, than a mechanic with a penchant for hot-rod racing.

When she turned back to Obi-Wan, she didn’t have to see his eyes to know where he was looking.

“That shirt really does look lovely, doesn’t it,” Obi-Wan mused with a soft smile.

Padmé laughed and dragged him in for a kiss. It was quick and sweet, and when she pulled away the greys in Obi-Wan’s beard were painted in red lipstick.

“Padmé,” Obi-Wan mumbled, his cheeks a delightful pink that matched the ruby tones of her lips. He leaned a little in, voice low enough for her to hear. “Not that I’m not flattered, but I’m a married man.”

She giggled again, but when she gripped his arm and held she couldn’t help but squeeze down as she spoke, voice serious, her brows furrowed. “I just wanted to say thank you. For the things you do, the things you say. For who you are. Thank you.”

Obi-Wan’s smile softened, and he nodded quickly. “No need to thank me. But I cherish the sentiment all the same.”

When she pulled away she grabbed a napkin and passed it to Obi-Wan and took one of the gins from his grasp. By the time Anakin returned the lipstick had been wiped away, and Padmé watched as Obi-Wan quietly filled the empty space next to Anakin’s right side once more. She ended up keeping the gin and tonic, while Obi-Wan and Anakin subtly shared the one, lips placed over the spot where the other had drank, like a soft kiss shared between the pair, known only to the trio stood beneath the summer sun.

[padawanlost]

Is there a Star Wars book when anakin watches Shmi get beaten up in front of him and if there is what book is it

We don’t get much in terms of Shmi’s pov. Most of what we know of their time with Watto comes from unreliable narrators, mostly Anakin. So, no, I can’t think of any scene right now where we witness Watto physically abusing her in front of Anakin.

That being said, we do have proof that Watto was physically abusive to Anakin:

“He wasn’t sure how he would feel about seeing the slaver, even if Watto had nothing to do with bringing any harm to Shmi. Watto had treated him better than most in Mos Espa treated their slaves, and hadn’t beaten him too often, but still, it hung in Anakin’s thoughts that Watto had not let Shmi go with him when Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had bought out his slave debt. Anakin understood that he was probably just deflecting some of his own guilt about leaving his mother with Watto, who was a businessman, after all.” AOTC Novelization When Count Dooku flies at him, blade flashing, Watto’s fist cracks out from Anakin’s childhood to knock the Sith Lord tumbling back. [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith] Physical pain he could have handled even without his Jedi mental skills; he’d always been tough. At four years old he’d been able to take the worst beating Watto would deliver without so much as making a sound. [Matthew Stover. Revenge of the Sith] “Anakin wasn’t entirely wrong about him. He’d never been a slave. He’d never been beaten for making a mistake. Never crawled beneath threadbare blankets, starving, and fallen asleep with his mother’s tears on his cheeks. He didn’t remember his mother. He’d been raised in the Temple, safe and loved. I have compassion. I have empathy. What I don’t have are scars.” Karen Miller’s Star Wars: Clone Wars Gambit: Stealth

One could assume that a being who has no problem slaving people and beating up a little boy wouldn’t have any problem beating up his mom.

So, I can’t think of any factual evidence that it did happen. However, considering their circumstances, I do believe at some point in his childhood Anakin witnessed his mother being, if not physically, at least verbally abused. Sadly, we are talking about slavery here and there’s nothing good or positive about it.

[tennessoui]

Director's cut (for Foolproof, again, because <3): Council pov on Anakin during OWK's teen years, maybe? Or, like, Qui-Gon hiding in an empty Jedi Knight apartment post-Zygerria because he's too young to die, only to scream when Yoda pops up from behind the sofa to tell him the hiding spot is already taken.

let’s be honest the council probably meets with qui-gon once a month during obiwan’s apprentice ship and they’re just like so we may have fucked up a little bit about this whole not allowing anakin to be obi-wan’s master because we’ve noticed he’s being like….really weird about this whole thing

and qui-gon is like. well obviously. good thing I decided of my own free will to take obi-wan as my padawan or else you’d be dealing with anakin skywalker as the most violent and feral AgriCorps farmer in galactic history.

and the council is like whatever. what do you think we should do about anakin skywalker?

and qui-gon is like. Give him a padawan that isn’t obi-wan 🤷🏻‍♂️ and the council is like huh. maybe. okay. sure.

and both qui-gon and the council think the other one told obi-wan that anakin wanted to train him but was told he couldn’t and actually neither did lol

imagine the absolute devastation obi-wan feels when Ahsoka tells him she’s gonna be anakin Skywalker’s padawan and obi-wan’s gotta pretend that’s such exciting news, the poor boy

[battlekilt]

What is the meaning of one character... to any of us?

If anyone thinks it is cringe that I run my blog with an obvious theme, which is GFFA from my Clone King's perspective, I think they may need to reflect upon the things that they decide to judge others on.

If anyone thinks that Captain Rex is boring, then I am not going to change their mind. The fandom has plenty of people who are allowed to fixate on Cody or Fox, while I feel pressured to pick a different clone to be transfixed on. My apologies to these individuals, but Rex is just my favorite. By this point, he has remained my favorite for two years.

Sure, there are plenty of other characters I love and can talk about endlessly. I love Wolffe, Obi-Wan, Anakin, Cody, Fox, Plo, Fives, Echo—the list could go on and on and on and on and on, and it continues to grow as more people share the love they have for their own.

Yet, it is Rex who has entertained me and tickled my brain for two years. He has been an excellent litmus test for those that I want to humor as a friend.

I will tag things from his POV. I will talk mostly about ships with him; the fact that I do ship him with so many people is a huge development for me—I come from a fandom culture where OTP meant you shipped one ship, especially for either character. It took time to adjust to the idea that OTP can now mean a favorite ship.

No shade, but I just don't really have an interest in most ships that do not have Rex. Sure, there are a few mild exceptions, but none are ones that I am heavily involved in. Once I ship Rex with a character, I am not interested in seeing that same character with anyone else. This is likely remnants of the era when OTP was a hard-definition. I will follow and engage with people, and block the content I don't want to see.

Rex is the narrative mechanism I explore GFFA. I don't do reader or self-insert; I am not an interesting character, nor would I want to engage directly. I'd rather be an omnipotent puppet-master that pulls at strings, and quite obviously... I have a favorite puppet, and that remains Rex. Look how well he dances on these strings.

So, love and support from me to other fellow fans that have a One True Character—thank you to the person who introduced that term to me—and hold fast to it.

PS. Fans with other One True Characters are great. Their energy and vibe are so wonderful to be around, especially if they will sit and share the love they have with their character. They are some of my favorite fans. They are a wealth of knowledge about their special characters. Their love and devotion is infectious, and enlightening. They make great friends because it is like being an academic of one specialty, and having the benefit of an expert in another specialty.

Some OTCers*/** that I think deserve some love:

Obi-Wan: @ninjigma Anakin: @spacingstars, @husborth, @vaitiara, @jebiknights, @anakinsafterlife Thrawn: @blackmonitor Bo-Katan/Satine Kryze: @isaakandreyevs Boba Fett: @acatalystrising, @galozima Cody: @patchmates, @delicateclouddetective Echo: @ann-i-inthestars Bacara/Nova Corps: @floatingvampire

(besties are emphasized.)

* If you feel I got your OTC wrong, let me know! Though, this is just the one true character I associate you with.

** If you would like to be on this list, let me know!

There are plenty of others that I talk to on Discord, and just don't know how to credit them here.

[missshezz]

Monster

Link: Monster

Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008), prequel trilogy, all media

Warnings: None Apply (canon character death is mentioned)

Ratings: All ages

Word Count: 1000

Tags: Obi-Wan Kenobi whump, Obi-Wan dealing with Satine’s death, past Obitine, Anakin has issues, Anakin introspective, Anakin POV, Anidala, parallels drawn between how Obi-Wan deals with loss versus Anakin, foreshadowing of events, grief, anger, guilt, loss, mourning, Jedi Code, attachment being forbidden, post-episode 5x16– the Lawless

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is hailed as the Hero With No Fear. He’s the Chosen One. The greatest Jedi of his generation. Only he has a secret…

Obi-Wan Kenobi did not return from his mission to Mandalore as the man Anakin spent nine years apprenticed with.

Nor was he the same man he fought beside for the last two.

His former master was everything a good Jedi should be: calm, patient, wise.

Things Anakin, himself, was not.

Those core traits were there but shadowed by an air of despair and defeat he had never felt before in Obi-Wan.

Grief, guilt, and a fragment of anger were etched into a face that appeared far older than his former master was.

A wealth of things — deep, dark things — burned in the depths of eyes as familiar to Anakin as his own.

It was clear Obi-Wan bled from a wound invisible to the naked eye.

One which would not heal even with help from the Temple’s healers.

There was only one thing that could have happened that would bring about this change in the typically stoic Obi-Wan: the death of the Duchess Satine.

Anakin’s stomach twisted with a mixture of horror, dread, and fear.

Things good Jedi were not supposed to feel.

Along with anger.

Hatred.

Love.

Anakin wasn’t a good Jedi, however. Not in the same way Obi-Wan was. 

Or that Yoda, Windu or Plo Koon were.

Sure, the HoloNet hailed him as the Hero With No Fear.

From the time he was nine he had been told he was the Chosen One.

Prophesied to bring balance to the Force.

Many considered him the most powerful Jedi of his generation.

Of any generation, in fact.

His skills as a pilot made him a legend. Even he admitted there was none who could touch him on land or in the air.

He even rivaled Master Yoda as a swordsman.

Only, he had a secret.

A terrible one he had told nobody — not even Padmé — about.

There was a monster inside of Anakin. He once likened it to the krayt dragon. Only, this monster was far more dangerous than the krayt for it chewed away at the walls around his heart, infecting him with its venom, and clouding everything he believed in. He suspected it had always been there inside him, rearing its head at various times while he was still a slave but not gaining dominance until after his mother’s death at the hands of Tusken Raiders.

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have punished the ones responsible for his loss, however.

No, his former master would do as a good Jedi was taught: first, by relinquishing his attachment to the Duchess Satine, and next, by allowing his emotions to pass into the Force.

Unlike him.

Who slaughtered the entire Tusken village without pity or remorse.

And then married Padmé in secret. 

Something that would see him expelled from the Jedi Order should it ever be discovered.

He didn’t regret his choice.

Either of them.

For now, though, Anakin focused on Obi-Wan. He started to cross towards him but stopped when a figure materialized in front of his former master. Anakin’s eyebrows arched as he recognized the petite general who helped save his former master on Savareen.

I didn’t know General Kazzarin was here at the Temple. 

Or on Coruscant for that matter.

Normally, she stayed in the barracks with her men.

Yet there she was.

Almost as if she had known she would be needed.

As she had known on Savareen. 

No words passed between the general and Obi-Wan.

Not aloud, anyway.

Anakin was positive the two communicated with each other.

How he had yet to figure out. 

The only explanation either one gave him about their closeness was they were crèche mates.

Friends.

Anakin believed their relationship went far beyond that.

Was much deeper than either was willing to admit.

There was an intimacy between the two that simple friendship did not allow.

The kind only people in love shared.

Like he and Padmé.

Anakin watched as the general placed one of her small hands to Obi-Wan’s cheek.

A gesture meant to settle and soothe.

One Anakin was, himself, quite familiar with as Padmé tended to set her hand against his cheek whenever he found himself out of sorts.

Which was far more often of late than he liked.

General Kazzarin stroking Obi-Wan’s cheek did not surprise him any. Not after what he witnessed on Savareen. What shot his eyebrows nearly to his hairline, however, was how Obi-Wan did not immediately step back from the general, offering one of his gentle smiles, and a polite, but stilted thank you for her kindness.

No, his former master turned his face into her palm and closed his eyes.

Not only accepting her touch but actively seeking more of it.

Something Anakin had never seen Obi-Wan do before.

No, the man who returned from Mandalore was not the one Anakin spent nine years apprenticed with.

Nor served beside for the last two.

Because his former master would never allow such an open display of affection.

From within the caverns of his heart the monster whispered a reminder about how he would have received a stern lecture if it were him standing there with Padmé.

Who he couldn’t so much as hold the hand of in public.

He wasn’t allowed to kiss her cheek.

Stroke her hair.

Accompany her to any of the events she was required to attend as a Senator.

Their marriage was forbidden, after all.

As were emotional attachments.

His duty was to the Order and the Republic, after all.

If it were Padmé murdered, he would be expected to continue on.

Never stopping to grieve her death or avenge her.

A ripple — the same one he felt while searching for Obi-Wan on Savereen — flowed around Anakin, fluid as the waters surrounding Varykino.

The monster hissed as it slid back into its dark cavern.

Soothed, but only for the moment.

Obi-Wan Kenobi was everything Anakin Skywalker was not.

Patient, calm, wise.

His former master had twice defeated the monster inside of him.

Anakin had yet to defeat his.

He doubted he ever would.

[cypanache]

For the WiP Ask: Trap (Obidala) 👀

Oh thank you for asking about this. This fic is so dear to me pardon me while I ramble a lot.

A Trap of Your Own Making for anyone who is unfamiliar with this fic, is my canon-compliant obidala gap fill. Yes. Really. It is, as strange as it sounds, my love letter to OWK and tries to write a backstory for this pairing that could still allow OWK to happen unaltered but provide as much emotional weight behind the way Obi-Wan talks about Padme in that show as possible. The general premise explores how Obi-Wan and Padme’s relationship and the way they feel about each other throughout the arc of the prequels (good, bad and ugly) plays out within and contributes to what we see happen in canon.

The story starts smack dab in the back half of TPM establishing a connection between these two that while essentially platonic (at least for Obi-Wan) is still complicated and intense. I’ve completed the Naboo arc and am currently working on the next chapter which picks up during the 10 gap between TPM and AotC. We will eventually work all the way through AotC, TCW and RotS, taking into account everything that happens between these two and Anakin at least within on screen canon.

It does have a trigger warning for emotional infidelity in upcoming chapters (again canon-compliant), but it is honestly the most ‘faithful’ emotional infidelity I can write. Like these two love Anakin so much. But they also love each other, no matter how much they refuse to call it that or wish it were otherwise. They will tear themselves apart in order not to betray him and still somehow make choices that while understandable and rooted in the best of intentions will from Anakin’s POV legitimately feel like a betrayal. Hence the title. (Also my unofficial subtitle: “or how Obi-Wan and Padme fell in love and accidentally broke the galaxy”)

Okay with that really long intro/pitch and as a reward for sticking with me while I rambled about the fic that is definitely closest to my heart here’s a very obidalay excerpt from the upcoming chapter behind the read more cut for spoiler protection (as if I haven’t already done that)

FIC SPOILERS

- First meeting post the Naboo arc. Set a little over 2 years after TPM during Nute Gunray’s first trial -

He knew Padme would be there. But the knowledge doesn’t prepare him. Maybe it’s the way this trial has dredged up everything about that time and brought it close to the surface. Or maybe it’s the fact that after that moment with Master Billaba he’s become adept at shoving every thought of her into the far back corner of his subconscious so quickly he could almost convince himself he doesn’t think about her at all. Or maybe he has simply missed her more than he let himself realize.

Whatever it is, the first time he catches sight of her, tucked in among the handmaidens, it feels like he’s been hit by a Gundark, and all he can think as he takes his seat across the courtroom from the Queen’s retinue is it's a good thing he didn’t see her before he testified.

She looks exactly the same and completely different and he can’t make himself look away.

The hood pulled up around her face somehow does more to accentuate her features than obscure them, giving him nowhere to look but the newly sharpened line of her cheekbone, the deep brown eyes that catch his gaze and won’t let go, the way her mouth curves in a small, secret smile that he can’t seem to stop himself from returning.

He wasn’t sure what he expected when he saw her again. Had determinedly done his best to have almost no expectations at all. Not after the way they parted. After he had used her terribly and then tossed her aside. Nevermind that he’d done it for Anakin, who had always been her first priority. Nevermind that she had agreed to the exact scheme. Or how little he had wanted to, how many hours he had waited on that bench hoping for the chance to explain himself, to apologize. The end result was the same. The sin was his. She has every right to be angry with him at least. Indifferent at best.

The fact she seems to be none of those things feels life altering. A grant of absolution he didn’t know he needed.

He’s not entirely sure what to do with this unexpected absolution, but that turns out to be okay because Padme decides for him.

So apparently some things haven’t changed.

“Knight Kenobi,” Sabe’s voice carries well across the antechamber.

He turns and bows low at their approach, “It is good to see you again, your Majesty.”

“And you. You spoke well on our behalf. Naboo is grateful for your continued friendship.”

“I merely spoke the truth. And as for my friendship,” his eyes slide over to where Padme stands just at Sabe’s shoulder before he can stop himself, “Naboo embraced me in an hour of great need. I can think of nothing that would change the affection I hold for it.”

“Then I wonder if I might impose upon you for a favor.”

“Of course.”

“My handmaiden,” Sabe turns to direct his attention to Padme, which is good because his eyes haven't left hers, “has an errand I need her to run for me. Coruscant is very large and we are all still finding our way. Would you be willing to escort her on your way back to the Temple?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

—

They are halfway to the transport platform before his brain catches up with him enough to pose a critical question. “Where are we going?”

Padme bites at her lower lip. “Would you be terribly cross with me if I told you there is no errand?”

“Absolutely.” Obi-Wan deadpans, ignoring her small gasp of indignation, as he continues, “Because now I have to admit I’d been planning on getting lost.”

He’d almost forgotten how much he likes making her laugh.

[purplefangirl42]

Crossing Worlds

Summary: Two women are whisked away from their own lives to a strange place where they meet a mysterious force and receive a special mission.

Relationships: Hunter/OC (Kimber Sallaros), TBB & Kimber, TBB & OC (Lena Orim) (implied romantic undertones for Crosshair/Lena).

A/N: This is part 1 of a 2 part birthday gift for my lovely friend @photogirl894 💜 sending you all the love in the world Morgan! Kimber belongs to Morgan and is from her wonderful story Sun and Rain. Lena is my OC and her relationship with Crosshair (the beginning of it so far) can be found in my story Bad Timing.

AO3 Link || Part 2

Tags/Warnings: Alternate Timelines, Multiple POV

Darkness surrounded her as she fell through what felt like nothingness. There was no rush of air passing by her as she fell, no indication that she was approaching any destination. Suddenly, she came to a stop on what felt like ground, landing in a heap. With a groan, Lena stumbled to her feet and took in her surroundings. There was absolutely nothing around her. No structures, no wind, no source of the strange light that surrounded her, no ground; just nothing. 

Where am I?

The absolute absence of sound was unnerving, but what shocked her more was how alone she felt. Her entire life, Lena had been able to sense the universe around her. Every form of life had a connection to the Force, every person had a cloud of emotions and thoughts following them everywhere. Now there was no sense of anything, no brush against her mind, no wave of emotion. It scared her more than she cared to admit.

Lena sat down on the “ground”, crossing her legs and closing her eyes. Maybe if she focused, she would be able to sense something. She wasn’t sure what kind of place she had ended up in, but there had to be some way she could connect to what she was familiar with.

Keebo was the first person she tried, hoping their bond as teacher and student would still be accessible. No such luck. She tried Obi-Wan next, searching desperately for the presence that had been constant for most of her life. Nothing. In a last effort, she reached out for her grandfather, thinking the ties in their blood would allow her to reach him. As she grasped at empty space with her mind, Lena let out a frustrated shout and opened her eyes to the nothingness around her.

Just as the sound left her mouth, there was a flare of light. Lena lifted her gaze to see a hole open in the space above her. A few seconds passed before, just as she had, a figure fell from above and landed in a heap. Suddenly, Lena didn’t feel alone. There was another mind, full of confusion and frustration.

The figure sat up, a feminine voice letting out a string of expletives in Huttese that Anakin would have been proud of. The person was wearing red and gray armor that looked like a combination of trooper armor and Mandalorian armor, fitted to her form perfectly. A long brown braid hung over her shoulder and flopped against the ground as the woman pulled her helmet from her head.

“Who are you?”

Kimber had no idea what had happened. One moment, she was talking to Echo. The next, she found herself falling through darkness. Even though she was wearing her armor, helmet and all, hitting the ground hurt. She was not proud of the words that left her mouth at the sensation. As she sat up, she pulled her helmet from her head, trying to get a clearer look at her surroundings. She found herself staring at another woman sitting on the ground a short distance from her.

“Who are you?” Kimber asked.

The woman stared at her with a slight tilt of her head. As Kimber looked her over, she noticed that she was wearing the brown and beige robes of a Jedi. Like herself, she had a long braid hanging over her shoulder.

“My name is Lena. Who are you?”

“I’m Kimber. Kimber Sallaros.”

“You’re wearing armor. Are you Mandalorian?” Lena asked.

Kimber laughed softly and gestured to herself.

“Maker, no. I’m part of a squad of clone troopers. Gray and red are their colors, which they graciously let me use when I joined their squad.”

Lena looked like she was deep in thought as she looked Kimber over. Eventually, her gaze settled on one of her shoulders and she raised her hand as if to touch the plate there.

“The skull…99…” she paused for a second before looking back up to meet Kimber’s eyes. “Are you with the Bad Batch? Clone force 99?”

Kimber smiled in response.

“Indeed I am! Do you know them?”

“They helped me on a mission. Crosshair saved my life more than once.”

Kimber felt her heart constrict at the mention of Crosshair. She wondered if this woman knew what had happened to him, if she knew about the things he had done.

“When did you join them? When I met them not too long ago, there were only four members on their team.”

“Four?” Kimber asked. “When did you meet them?”

“A few months ago, I think?” Lena said. 

Suddenly, it all made sense. Wherever this strange place was, it seemed to have pulled them from different points in time. Kimber didn’t have time to say anything else before there was a loud noise that surrounded them, making further conversation impossible. A large portal opened a short distance from them, bringing a ship into the mysterious emptiness of this realm. A ship Kimber recognized.

“Speak of the devils,” she muttered.

Lena looked over at her with a puzzled expression.

“Do you think they were dragged in from wherever you were taken from?”

“Hard to say,” Kimber said with a shrug. “Let’s go find out.”

Crosshair cursed as he got back to his feet from where he had fallen to the floor of the Marauder. While Tech’s flying was sometimes questionable, it rarely knocked him off balance.

“What the kriff is going on?” he asked as he made his way to the cockpit.

“That is an excellent question,” Hunter said as he came up alongside him. “Tech, what happened?”

Tech spun around in his chair to face them, looking more confused than Crosshair had ever seen him in their whole lives. 

“I’m not sure what happened,” he said. “One second, we were flying through space and I was calculating our jump to hyperspace. Next, we were crashing here.”

“Let’s go check things out,” Hunter said, pulling his helmet down over his head. 

Crosshair and Tech did the same and followed Hunter down the lowering ramp, Wrecker hot on their heels. Crosshair scanned the area around the ship and was surprised to see absolutely nothing. Well, not exactly nothing. 

“There’s two figures over there,” he said, pointing across the vast expanse of darkness before them.

The four of them started walking towards the figures he had spotted. As they got closer, Crosshair pushed his viewfinder down to get a better look. With the enhanced view, he could see the people more clearly. Two women stood together, looking like they were waiting for something, or someone. 

“It’s two women,” he said to Hunter. “One is wearing armor and the other looks a bit like a Jedi.”

“Let’s hope they know what’s going on.” Hunter said.

When they were a short distance away, Hunter stopped, indicating for the rest of them to do likewise. Crosshair looked the two women before them up and down. Though he had never seen either of them before, something seemed eerily familiar about both of them.

“My name is Hunter, and this is my squad,” his brother said. “Do you ladies know where we are and what’s going on?”

Crosshair noticed the facial expression fall on the taller woman in armor. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she looked heartbroken. She seemed to gather her wits quickly and schooled her expression back into a more neutral one.

“I’m afraid we’re as clueless as you, Sergeant,” she said. “Neither of us are sure how we got here either.”

Crosshair saw Hunter tense in the corner of his vision at the woman’s mention of his rank. He hadn’t said what his rank was when he introduced himself, so the fact that the woman knew it was suspicious.

He narrowed his gaze and gave her a thorough lookover. His gaze landed on her armored shoulder, seeing a reflection of his own armor in the paint. The 99 and the skull painted there were too similar to the ones on his and his brothers’ armor.

“Do you know us?” Tech asked, saying what was on both his and undoubtedly Hunter’s minds.

The two women exchanged a glance before the shorter one stepped forward to offer her hand to Hunter, no doubt expecting him to shake it.

“I am General Lena Orim of the Jedi Order. This is Kimber Sallaros. We seem to both know your squad, but separately.”

Crosshair had no memory of either of these women. His confusion must have been prevalent, as the woman that had introduced herself as Lena turned to look at him.

“I know it sounds unreal, but somehow we have all ended up here together. I know your names, you helped my battalion on a rescue mission, and escorted me back home once the mission was over.”

The other woman stepped forward, closer to Hunter. She reached out her hand to touch his arm and Hunter visibly flinched away. Crosshair’s hand drifted towards the blaster on his hip, ready to act if Hunter called for it. The order never came, however. 

“Kimber…I remember…”

Kimber’s face lit up with a look of hope. Lena seemed to realize something and surged forward, grabbing Crosshair’s wrist. He moved to pull away, but stopped when a wave of memories hit him.

A smile bright as sunlight. Warm skin under his fingertips. His arm around her waist as they sped away from danger. Attraction, warmth, protectiveness. 

Lena released his wrist and looked up at him expectantly.

“Sunshine?” he whispered, almost to himself.

Both women looked at him in shock at that single phrase. Before he could move, Kimber stepped forward to touch his hand and he was hit by another wave.

Sunsets. Sniper practice. An exhausted and worn form beneath two suns. Affection, anger, betrayal, forgiveness.

Crosshair ripped his helmet from his head and threw it to the ground, trying to get fresh air into his lungs. These memories didn’t belong to him, they were foreign. 

“What did you do?” he heard Tech’s voice echoing beyond the rushing sound in his ears. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He’s remembering,” Hunter said softly.

When Kimber had touched his arm, Hunter had felt a shock like a lightning bolt go through him. Images of things he had never seen flashed briefly before his eyes. He didn’t see much before he pulled away from her touch and the images vanished. All that was on his mind was a name.

Kimber.

“Kimber…I remember…”

Watching Crosshair’s reaction to first Lena’s touch and then Kimber’s brought the sensation that he had felt back to the front of his mind. It was like they were downloading memories of their other selves. The helmet flying from his brother’s hands as he drew ragged breaths startled him and he sensed Tech surging forward on his other side.

“What did you do?” he shouted. “What’s wrong with him?”

Before he knew what he was saying, Hunter answered his brother’s question.

“He’s remembering,” he said softly, pulling his helmet from his head and dropping it to the ground.

“Remembering what?” Wrecker asked from behind him.

Hunter glanced at the two women before him and held out his hand to Lena. She seemed to understand his request and gently laid her hand in his. He felt the shock once again, not as powerful this time. He didn’t seem to have as strong a connection to Lena as he did Kimber.

“You need to touch,” he said, gesturing to Tech and Wrecker. “That’s what activates the memories.”

Hunter watched as both Tech and Wrecker held out their hands for Lena and Kimber to touch, trying not to flinch as they shuddered in reaction. His worried gaze landed on Crosshair once again, who seemed to still be experiencing the aftereffects of the transfer.

“Are you alright?” he asked his brother.

Crosshair looked at Lena and Kimber for a moment before standing up straight and meeting Hunter’s gaze.

“It’s a strange feeling, but I think I’ll be alright.”

“Strange is a good word for this situation,” Tech said. “We all seem to come from different timelines and dimensions. The concept is fascinating.”

“Yeah, but how do we get out of here?” Wrecker asked. “There’s nothing here!”

“One thing at a time, Wrecker,” Hunter said. “Kimber, can I talk to you?”

Kimber was unsure how to answer Hunter’s request. He had only asked to talk to her, but she wasn’t sure if that was wise. She had already let it slip before that she knew him by calling him by his rank. With how quickly he pulled away from her touch, she wasn’t certain that the memory transfer had been complete.

He wasn’t her Hunter.

Deciding it was probably best to just get it over with, she accepted his request and the two of them split off from the rest of the group to speak privately. When they were out of hearing distance, Hunter stopped and turned to face her.

“I think we need to do the transfer again,” he said. “I have vague memories and a connection to you, but that’s all. I don’t know what our relationship is like.”

Kimber was conflicted. Maybe the memory transfer had been a mistake. Granted, she had done it by accident at first. Lena had only taken her lead and completed the process on Crosshair. There was no way of knowing what the long lasting effects would be.

When this Hunter returned to where he was from, would he remember her? Would she essentially be abandoning another version of her beloved Sergeant to pine after her from a different dimension?

“That might not be the best idea,” she said. “I don’t want to change your life by doing this. Not when we’ll have to go our separate ways afterwards.”

Hunter held out his hand to her, a determined look on his face.

“I’m willing to take the risk.”

Kimber sighed and flexed her hand at her side before making the leap, lifting it to rest in Hunter’s. She watched him shudder as the memory transfer was completed, his grip on her hand tightening so much that it was almost painful. When the process was over, his grip softened and a gentle, loving expression replaced the one of agony. 

“That’s what you were going to keep from me? That you’re my sweetheart?”

“Except I’m not,” Kimber said softly. “You’re not my Hunter.”

Hunter’s expression fell and he released his grip on her hand.

“I guess that’s true. All the same, it’s not an unpleasant feeling. Even if I have to say goodbye to you later and live with this knowledge, I am content with it staying.”

Kimber gave him a small smile and nodded in the direction of the group.

“Should we rejoin the others?”

A/N: Give this a like, comment, and reblog and let me know what you think! Keep a look out for part 2!

[lilredghost]

OH WAIT HI????? I"M STUPID???

I just saw a post you made about the plot twist in the most recent chapter of Their Fragrance Came From You (which I commented on, same username) and I just realized. Wen I got to the twist (in the fic) I went "huh. Did we know that? guess I forgot" and just MOVED ON, and even your author's note didn't clue me in. Genuinely thought I'd forgotten about it. Hopefully that gives some context as to why my comment wasn't freak-out-spectacular lol.

(Referring to this post about emperor obi-wan au)

Dude this is HILARIOUS. I've had people go "oh wow I wasn't expecting that at all" and people go "hah I knew it!", but I was NOT expecting anyone to go "did we know that? guess I forgot" 😂

But tbh I don't blame you. I did try to set up the scene in a way that the reveal was somewhat unremarkable to the narrator (since obviously from Obi-Wan's POV... this is a fact he knows.... It was only a dramatic revelation to the reader)

There's so many scenes I HAD to write from Anakin's POV, or even skip entirely, just to avoid Obi-Wan's narration revealing that he's an omega. I've actually been considering going back to write some missing scenes, but I'm not sure which ones... 🤔

[firealder2005]

Whumpcember 2022 Day. 20 “IT’S TOO LATE!”

Featuring: Part 2 of Leia, Luke, & Vader! Vader POV this time!

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43602351

```

Vader kept a tight grip on both Luke and Organa, not taking any chances with them escaping.

Well. He wasn’t taking any chances with Luke escaping. He didn’t really care whether or not Organa got away - then again, she wouldn’t leave without his son, and that would kick up another round of trouble that he couldn’t afford.

He had detected someone following them during his chase of his son and Organa, before he had lost contact with the Force once they entered the Force-dull forest.

The darkside rolled with danger danger, they’ll take what’s yours, you’ll lose what’s yours again, and Vader would not allow that to happen.

Now, if only Luke and Organa would stop struggling.

Growling, he wrapped an arm around Luke’s waist and lifted him up, ignoring his indignant yelp as he did. Luke’s arms were now dangling down, and he was wriggling and pounding on Vader’s chestplate.

“Put him down!” Organa demanded, and Vader would’ve scoffed if he wasn’t in such a hurry.

“You are in no position to demand anything, princess.” he responded, still ignoring Luke’s furiously pounding fists. “And you should know by now that I won’t be letting my son go.”

Luke’s fists, midway through another pound against Vader’s armor, froze as Organa nearly tripped, like her feet had suddenly molded into the ground but Vader’s strength had yanked her out.

“ What did you just say? ” Luke whispered, his aura flaring with horror.

Vader felt a mild twinge of irritation - curse Obi-Wan for poisoning his son against him! - but Organa was the first to speak.

“Lier!” she accused him with a brown glare. “We know what really happened, you monster! You killed Luke’s father - don’t you dare try to tell him otherwise!”

Vader turned on her, Luke still clenched tightly in his grasp, not noticing the pained gasp that left Luke’s mouth.

“I dare , princess,” Vader growled threatenaly. “Because I am his father. I did kill Anakin Skywalker - destroyed him completely, to make room for a stronger, more capable person - me.”

“You realize that makes no sense , right?” Organa growled right back. “You claim to have killed Anakin, but you also claim to be him! Which one is it!” The latter sentence wasn’t a question, it was an order, and Vader felt infuriated.

“I owe no explanation to a rebel traitor!” he extended his presence out, letting even the force-null Organa feel his angry, no incensed aura, and she flinched away, eyes widening in surprise.

Ah, yes, slowly but surely, the Force was coming back into his control. He couldn’t yet use it to move objects - or irritating princesses - around, but he could use his aura.

“But you do owe one to me,” Luke’s whisper was so quiet Vader almost didn’t hear it. He slowly turned his helmet towards the boy still trapped in his hold.

He contemplated for a while as the edge of the forest came into sight, then spoke.

“Obi-Wan told you that Darth Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, and you took that literally.” Like Organa, it wasn’t a question. Luke mutinously nodded, vivid blue eyes narrowed with suspicion that, if Vader bothered to acknowledge such a thing, made his heart squeeze with despair.

“From a certain point of view,” Vader felt his voice take on a mocking tone, and he intentionally softened it, knowing his son was still fond of Kenobi - something that shall be fixed with time, but now was not then. “That is correct. When the Jedi turned traitor, I shed the weakness of Anakin Skywalker and became who I am today-”

“A murderer.” Organa muttered.

“Powerful.” Vader ignored the princess’s interruption, irked that he’ll have to keep her locked up now too. He couldn’t kill her, not yet, for that would only alienate Luke from him. But he also couldn’t let her go now that she knew his most kept secret, the secret he possessively and jealously guarded within even the confines of his own mind.

Luke’s bangs covered his eyes, hiding his expression from Vader as he turned his face away, and Vader could still feel the denial, the hurt, the anger his son felt over the truth of his father.

While he detested the denial his son felt, the latter two could be well-served in the darkside.

Organa was still glaring at him through narrowed eyes.

“It’s too late for that,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “You know. Being a father.”

“And why would you think that?” Vader mocked, letting Luke back down onto his booted feet, but kept a grip on his shoulder.

“ Fathers don’t hunt their sons across the galaxy to use them for their own personal gain.” Organa’s glare deepened as Vader threateningly tightened his grasp on her upper arm. “Because that’s why you’re so interested in Luke, isn’t it?” she accused. “You’re only interested in what he can give you, not in who he is. You may “care” about him,” she made quotations when she said “care” with her free arm’s fingers. “But in reality, you only care about what you gain from him!”

“How dare you-!” Vader was too enraged to notice the slinking figures drawing closer. Organa was just as infuriated and fearlessly met Vader’s mask as the Sith Lord loosened his grip on Luke’s shoulder, allowing the young Jedi to take a few steps away and take a breather, eyes darting between his arguing friend and his father.

Organa had raised a finger - was that the middle one she was going for?!?! - before a blue ring slammed into her back and she pitched forward, face-planting into the forest floor.

Stunned, Vader stared in confusion at her inert body, before a scuffle broke out behind him, and he had enough time to see Luke being hit across the head - instantly knocking him out cold - and being dragged into a ship that had silently landed at the forest’s edge.

Vader ignited his saber and took a few steps forward to intercept the ship before it took off - but he was too late.

As the ship flew off, Vader was left staring, stupefied, after it. He slowly turned around and stared at Organa’s limp body.

And that’s when Vader saw that it truly was too late.

[renlyslittlerose]

Do you have any thoughts or ideas about obi-Wan’a pov or thought process when he and anakin met in moonlight serenade?

The entire time i was just squealing. They’re too cute 🥰 that part where obi-wan was rubbing the patch on anakin’s shoulder just 😍☺️🥵 lol

I can do you one better, peach 💖

Catullus, or Ovid? - (2k)

---

“You’re bluffing.”

Obi-Wan glanced up from his set of cards to look at Vos from across the table. Next to him Koon fussed with the buttons on his cuff, cards already abandoned. A small pile of peanuts lay in the centre, lint stuck on a few shells after they rolled in the sticky drops of beer that accumulated across every surface of the messy pub. Nearby a group of American paratroopers started singing a rousing rendition of ‘Glory, Glory, What a Hell of a Way to Die.’

Koon started humming along.

“I thought bluffing was part of poker,” Obi-Wan said idly.

“It’s an American tradition,” Vos said.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“The problem is you’re a Brit - you’re not supposed to be good at this game.”

Despite Vos’ cutting words, he was grinning.

“I could be telling the truth,” Obi-Wan remarked. He sat back in his chair, finger tapping the back of his cards.

Vos shook his head and tossed a few more peanuts into the pile. “You’re definitely bluffing.”

Obi-Wan shrugged and added to the pile. Another moment passed before they both set their cards down on the table. Obi-Wan couldn’t help his laugh when he saw Vos’ expression.

“I believe this is what you American’s call a ‘flush’,” Obi-Wan said.

“It seems he wasn’t lying,” Koon said. He started cleaning his glasses, a small quirk to the corner of his lips as he rubbed the white cotton against the dense lenses.

Leaving Vos to his griping, Obi-Wan grabbed the peanuts and pulled them toward his already substantial pile. He’d only just learned the game a few months ago when the American’s started arriving, bringing their gambling and music to lighten the somber mood of the motherland. He couldn’t say he was particularly fond of poker, but it was a fright better than billiards - a game that Obi-Wan was decidedly terrible at.

“Another round?” Vos asked, voice rising above the sudden burst of sound coming from another corner of the pub. Obi-Wan glanced over Koon’s shoulder to see someone - he wasn’t sure which branch - had fallen from their stool and was receiving quite the ribbing.

“I should head out soon,” Obi-Wan said, counting his peanuts. He had a meeting early in the morning, his Lieutenant Colonel not understanding the term ‘leave’ unless it was his turn to offload his duties on to others.

“You can’t quit now - not when you’ve got all my peanuts!” Vos cried out.

Obi-Wan was about to tell Vos he’d just have to win them back another time, when a gust of air hit the table. He glanced up from his winnings to see two airmen walking into the pub, shoulders hunched as they tussled their way toward the back corner toward a fellow airman who’d been guarding his table for the last fifteen minutes. Obi-Wan was about to go back to his peanut counting when he caught sight of the slimmer one of the group.

He was tall and broad chested, filling out the Russian blue uniform like he’d grown up in it. The sharp angles of the material wrapped around his waist and draped across the swell of his behind, crisp and neat trousers dropping down to well polished black boots. Looking back up, Obi-Wan caught sight of the man’s profile, and almost dropped his peanuts when the man took his cap off and tossed it carelessly on to the table.

Obi-Wan was immediately struck by how classically beautiful he was. His profile was elegant, as if it belonged on a coin from ancient times, his nose regal and lips plump and full, pressed into a pretty little pout that Obi-Wan wanted to study further. His hair was a beautiful honey brown, curls barely constrained by the pomade he’d applied, the firm gel making his hair shimmer beneath the yellow light of the pub. But perhaps most beautiful of all was his eyes - a deep blue that sparkled when he smiled, his attention fixed on the men at his table as they tucked into their pints that had begun to go flat.

He looked like he’d been plucked from the Iliad and dropped into Piccadilly, refined and elegant but still human, still slightly bent.

“Kenobi?”

Obi-Wan blinked and looked back at Vos. He quirked a brow and sat back, peanuts abandoned.

“Are you alright?” Koon asked.

Obi-Wan smiled tightly and coughed behind his hand. “Just had a revelation, nothing to worry about. How about another round, hm?”

They played a few more games, Obi-Wan keeping his attention half on his cards and the rest on the man in the corner. He was on his second pint, and there was a delightful shade of pink to his cheeks that poked out from beneath the bronze of his skin. Obi-Wan wondered what it would be like to press his nose against his temple and feel his curls tickle, or what it would be like to hold his narrow waist beneath his hands, tugging, pressing, pulling him in closer.

Obi-Wan then wondered if the man had ever been to the sorts of parties that Obi-Wan attended, held in the halls of permanent bachelors, a copy of Plato’s Symposium left on a table, rich spirits thick on their pallets, cigar and cigarette smoke heavy in the air with the sound of male voices carrying through the space. He then wondered if the man would like to attend such a party.

Eventually the man rose from the table, elbowing his way toward the counter. A spike of excitement shot through Obi-Wan then, quick and jittery, the same sort of sensation Obi-Wan felt just before he squeezed the trigger on a rifle.

“I’m feeling parched,” he said and rose from his seat.

“You’ve still half a glass,” Koon said.

Obi-Wan waved him off, attention fixed on the man as he leaned against the counter. Slipping up next to him, Obi-Wan bumped their shoulders together, dragging the man’s attention away from the bartender. Or rather, the boy’s attention. He was younger up close, skin perfectly smooth and unblemished, cheeks still a delightful shade of pink. There was a little beauty mark on the corner of his chin, a beautiful little thing that marked him as something other than an immortal trickster god, come down to tempt and tease and pleasure.

“Terribly sorry,” he said.

For a moment Obi-Wan almost regretted approaching him. He was young, Obi-Wan feeling his greys just looking at him. But then their eyes locked and that little jolt hit him again, and he wet his lips before speaking again. “Are you alright?”

The boy hesitated, plush lips parted in surprise. And then he spoke, and Obi-Wan felt his chest squeeze at the sound of his voice, soft and delicate and so terribly rapturous.

“Yeah, sorry. I was just… caught of guard.”

Obi-Wan leaned in closer, wanting to hear more of the tone of his voice, feel it against his cheeks and lips, suffuse his breath with his own. His accent was light and clean, charming in a way that Obi-Wan had come to appreciate after hearing it for the last several years. Obi-Wan had never visited Canada, but he wanted to now - wanted to go and see where this marvelous creature had been crafted, his body formed from bronze with gold for lashes and inset with lapis lazuli for eyes. He wondered if the boy held the same figure as the statues of old - with strong thighs and a soft belly, still supple from youth.

Qui-Gon had once told Obi-Wan he was a terrible romantic, his head stuck in the ancient agora. At the time Obi-Wan had been offended - he was nothing if not practical, grounded, chained to the earth. But seeing the airman before him, primped and polished in his uniform, cheeks pink with merriment and drink, lips still parted in a soft pout, Obi-Wan was beginning to realize that perhaps Qui-Gon was right about him all along.

The boy’s beauty was only heightened by his impertinence, his remarks quick and sharp, followed by his humility as he stuttered out an apology. Obi-Wan pressed in closer as they waited for their drink, and couldn’t help but raise a brow when the boy presented his assortment of coins to him, trying to play coy.

“I get all mixed up trying to figure out your coin system. Mind helping me out?” he said, voice still just as soft, just as pretty.

A moment passed where Obi-Wan thought he was just oblivious to the tone of their conversation and the heat in his gaze. Maybe he wasn’t curious about Catullus, but was more partial to Ovid. But then they locked eyes, and Obi-Wan knew that this was an attempt. Perhaps not the most graceful, but still enticing - exciting in a way that made Obi-Wan’s heart beat a little faster.

“I’m quite sure you know which ones are which by now.”

He touched the boy then, fingertips sliding across his palm, collecting the appropriate coins. The boy watched his movements, and Obi-Wan noted the pinkness in his cheeks had gone even darker.

So Catullus it was…

“I’m a slow learner…” the boy said, as if Obi-Wan would fall for another lie.

“Not if you’re a pilot, you’re not.”

Their drinks arrived and Obi-Wan grabbed his, grateful for something to hold on to. The boy sent him a small smile that threatened to uproot him from the very ground. It was as if a Jerry’s bomb had gone off nearby, Obi-Wan’s ears ringing, the very basis of his being shaken. For a second he thought he might pitch into the bar, but he steadied himself with the drink and thanked the boy for it, before going back to his table.

He ignored Vos’ lingering looks.

“Are you alright?” Vos asked.

Obi-Wan nodded and drank half his pint in one go. The bitter malt grounded him further, but it also emboldened him. He needed to know the boy - needed to touch his skin and feel the fine downy hairs along his thighs. He wanted to taste the sweat on his skin, along his neck and down his collar. He needed to see and admire the hallowed places of his body, touch and mark and bite the supple flesh on offer.

He needed to know him in all his glory.

With that final thought Obi-Wan pushed up from the table and grabbed his cap.

“It’s been a pleasure, gentleman, but I’ve really got to go,” he said.

“Pleasant evenings,” Koon said.

“You owe me another game when we’re both in town,” Vos said.

Obi-Wan nodded and slipped out the door, catching the boy’s intense eyes from across the way as he did so.

He didn’t have to wait long - just long enough for his nerves to settle and his heart to beat faster, a thunderous thing against his breast that made him feel like a young man all over again, inexperienced and hopeful. When the door opened, spilling light into the darkened streets, Obi-Wan thought for a moment it would be someone else coming through the door. But then the flash of blue and the peek of golden hair from beneath an officer’s cap caught Obi-Wan’s eyes, and he couldn’t help but smile as the boy stepped into the dark to join him.

He held his hand out, and sighed softly as their hands locked, palms flush together.

“Glad you came,” he said, and he realized he sounded out-of-breath. “I realized I never properly introduced myself. I’m Major Kenobi, but you can call me Obi-Wan.”

The boy smiled, Obi-Wan catching it in the dark. “Flying Officer Skywalker. But most call me Anakin.”

Anakin.

He could feel Anakin - his name, his presence, his very being - sink into the very marrow of his bones, and in an instant Obi-Wan knew that Anakin would be a touch he’d never forget; a sound he’d never lose the tune of; an experience he’d never grow tired of.

“Shall we go for a walk?” he asked, their hands still touching, still locked tight like both were afraid they’d slip away if they did.

Anakin nodded. “I’d love that.”

[tennessoui]

hi kit! I was rereading your playmaker au (I absolutely love it btw!!!) and I have soo many questions! Like? How does qui-gon react to obi-wan showing up to the ball/gala/thing(?) with anakin? is he angry? upset (probably not lol)? does he talk to obi-wan/anakin or does he just ignore them outright? does anakin provoke him (of course he does but howwww???)

also, obviously your writing is amazing and I love literally everything you do!!!! <33333333

here is what happens at the policeman's ball! told from mace windu's pov (in this au he was like obi-wan's supervisor)! i think qui-gon is definitely furious, but after this night he also pivots to try and get obi-wan's loyalty back -- but before that, there's the anger

(2k)

Mace Windu has a headache and a terrible feeling about this whole thing. He never likes anything that has to do with the City politicians, especially the Mayor, and the annual Policeman’s Ball is probably the thing he likes the least. 

It’s opulent and gaudy and uncomfortable to have so many eyes on him, on their work, as if they care about him and the department any other day of the year. But he knows as well as any of the detectives that this Ball is the bed they must get into with the politicians, the city’s most wealthy. Here is the night money slides across palms, deals are struck and good men leave their morals at the door.

Just for one night. Just for the sake of their offices, their men. Those who schmooze the best, woo the most politicians, the most wealthy elite, are the ones who get the better budgets, the newer equipment. And Mace is Coruscant born and bred: he, like everyone else, knows that morals are the first things to go when lives are on the line.

Maybe it wasn’t always like this, but Mace cannot remember another way. Not in this city where even the politicians don’t have the actual power nor the funds or means to oust the men who do--the men and women who cut through the crowds with sharp smiles and rough palms, heads high and proud, draped in diamonds and pretty things, suits clean-cut and perfectly tailored.

Members of mobs, inside the city and out. Leaders of far-reaching crime syndicates, the kind Mace has committed his life’s work to fighting, to rooting out of Coruscant.

Everyone knows who they’re climbing into bed with when they shake Asajj Ventress’ hand to seal a deal, when they laugh too hard at Rush Clovis’ comment, when they fall over themselves to give Anakin Skywalker their attention.

No one admits it. 

Mace has lost men—good men—in the pursuit of justice against the mobs of Coruscant, sure that with enough evidence, he can put at least one away for life. It’s a dream he and his captain, Qui-Gon Jinn share.

Tilting his head, Mace finds his superior in the crowd, the man’s tall and unmistakable hair making him stand out as much as his stony silence and refusal to play along this year.

He wonders if Jinn feels the same exhaustion as Mace does. The dream has never felt farther away. The price has never seemed so steep.

Jinn lost his son, not even six months ago. The boy had been bright and clever, and Mace had looked at him and felt hope for the future of the city, all bundled up in Obi-Wan Kenobi’s soft smile.

He never should have been sent undercover. Mace shouldn’t have allowed it when Jinn passed down the orders. Kenobi was too young, too willing to prove himself, too naive for the mission.

And Vader took him, made him into just another bright young light snuffed out before its time.

Mace downs the rest of his drink and cuts through the crowd to reach Jinn’s side when he notices the mayor approaching. Jinn had insisted on coming—truly, he couldn’t not attend as their captain—but he will not be at his sharpest, at his most willing to play along tonight.

Jinn has always had the strongest morality of any guy Mace knows in the force, but he’d been willing to say what he had to say in the past to look out for his men, play nice with the politicians for the better budgets, the new supplies.

Losing his son changed something in him though. Made him colder. Made him cling even tighter to his morals. 

With a dead wife and an estranged son, his convictions were all he had left—save for his job.

“Mayor Palpatine,” Mace says easily, holding his hand out to shake the mayor’s hand. “You’ve outdone yourself this year.”

The mayor smiles at him with a sick sort of grin, but his attention is almost completely focussed on Jinn. “You know how much I enjoy the Policeman’s Ball. All of Coruscant’s best and brightest in one place for one night…a marvelous opportunity to strengthen our friendships, build trust, and honor those who protect us.”

Jinn’s returning smile looks stretched far too thin across his face. Mace closes his eyes in silent prayer that Jinn will hold his tongue.

“All of the riches of Coruscant in one place,” Jinn says, “and those who are bound by duty to protect them.”

“And what a noble calling that is,” the mayor smiles and there is something wrong about it, something terrible. “Only few are truly cut out for such a path, Captain Jinn, and we thank you for your stalwart service.”

He pauses and his face shifts into one of regret. Mace feels on edge.

“In fact,” Mayor Palpatine says, “I was just chatting with your son, and he—”

“He’s here?” Jinn straightens his shoulders, posture becoming ramrod straight as his eyes leave the mayor to roam around the rented room. “How?”

“Oh?” Palpatine raises both his eyebrows in mock surprise. “You didn’t know?”

“My son is no longer with the Force,” Jinn bites out, voice filled with more venom than Mace has ever heard before.  “He should not have been allowed to come tonight.”

“Ah,” Palpatine says. “I see there’s been some confusion. Your son is attending as Mr. Skywalker’s companion for the evening, not as a member of the police force. Though—there they are actually. I do hope I did not ruin a surprise visit!” 

Mace, with a feeling of dread welling up in his gut, turns his head to look at the two men Palpatine is now gesturing forward.

Anakin Skywalker prowls towards them like some great beast returning from a hunt with prey already dead between his jaws, or like an emperor returning to his city fresh from a conquering.

He looks neat and pristine, eyes crinkling with the force of his smirk as he guides Obi-Wan Kenobi to meet them with a hand pressed to the boy’s lower back.

Still some paces away, Skywalker leans down to whisper something into Obi-Wan’s ear, and the boy snaps back with a scowl, voice soft so as to hide his words.

The boy’s hair is short and rather awkwardly cut, but it’s the same strawberry-blonde Mace remembers seeing the boy’s mother wear. His eyes are hers as well, clear, light blue, though they have none of the softness Mace recalls him having before they sent him undercover.

He looks well-fed at least, and he holds himself close to Skywalker’s body, as if he truly feels safe in the claws of a dragon.  

Since the last time he saw the boy leaving the precinct, on his way into Skywalker’s arms, he has wondered how Obi-Wan liked his new life. If he felt like it was worth it, to lose his job and his father and his future for the mobster who would never be capable of loving him back, not truly. 

Looking at Obi-Wan now, dressed in expensive, soft-looking clothes, and carefully held in Skywalker’s arm, Mace can’t deny that the boy looks fine.

Healthy. Happy, if not for the current scowl marring his features.

“Gentleman,” Skywalker says when they reach them, holding out a hand for Jinn to shake.

Jinn does not move.

Skywalker’s eyes flash like flint sparking, and he adjusts his grip on Obi-Wan, pulling him fiirmly into his side and slightly in front of him, even as he drops his hand.

The tension in the air chokes any sort of conversation starter Mace can think of before it leaves his lips.

His eyes, without his conscious permission, remain stuck on the face of his biggest regret, unable to overlook the way Obi-Wan turns into the line of Skywalker’s body, as if taking comfort from his touch—as if Mace and Jinn are the lions and Skywalker Obi-Wan’s champion.

“I hadn’t realized you—” Palpatine starts to say, but he is cut off.

“Obi-Wan,” Jinn says suddenly, tone harsh, every inch the captain of the police. The tension in the air increases exponentially. Mace hadn’t realized that was possible. “You cut your hair.”

Something dark flashes across Skywalker’s face, and Mace watches as he moves his hand up to brush over the collar of Obi-Wan’s shirt, the exposed back of his neck.

“It’s in regulation,” Obi-Wan replies, looking for the first time this evening at his father. “Are you proud?”

The question is heavy, weighted: it always has been with Jinn and his son. Obi-Wan always did care less about if his father liked something he did and more about if he was proud.

“That your hair is in regulation?” Jinn’s lips are tight, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Obi-Wan, you have not spoken to me in six months. And you come tonight, to this event, on the arm of that monster, allowing him to move you about and speak for you, wearing clothes he bought you with money soaked in blood, and you ask if I am proud that you wear your hair to police standards? You have made a mockery of my life’s work, and you have lost yourself completely.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes look wet, and his hand is tangled in the pocket of Skywalker’s pants, seeking out connection. Mace closes his eyes and barely resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He has been witness to more fights between Jinn and his son than he cares to remember. 

Jinn always finds the worst words to say. 

And Obi-Wan learned how to fight from his father’s example. 

They’re ruthless and they’re cruel, and they fight each other like they’ll accept no survivors. 

“You are no son of mine, Ben,” Jinn says, even though Mace knows how much the loss of Obi-Wan has affected the older man, knows he misses him, knows he loves him still.

Obi-Wan blinks rapidly, hurt naked on his face, before he wipes it clean off and raises his hand to tuck a short piece of hair behind his ear. The motion is slow, pointed, and Mace’s eyes catch immediately on the angry red lines circling his wrist.

Handcuff marks. 

Mace takes a fortifying sip of his drink when he hears Jinn’s sharp inhale at the sight.

“Daddy,” Obi-Wan says, “can we go home? It’s close to the twins’ bedtimes, I don’t want to miss it.”

It’s Skywalker who responds, because it’s Skywalker Obi-Wan was looking at when he spoke. It’s Skywalker who wraps his arm securely around Obi-Wan’s waist and presses a kiss to his temple, dark eyes never straying from Jinn. “Yes, of course, sweetheart,” he tells Jinn, smirking like the cat who captured the canary right under the birdkeeper’s nose. “Gentlemen,” he says to Mace and the mayor. “Apologies for leaving early, but family calls.”

They are only half-turned around when Jinn recovers his tongue. “They are not your family, Obi-Wan,” he says. To Mace, he sounds as if he is begging. He wonders what Obi-Wan hears in his voice.

The boy turns his head to the side, posture perfect and nose pointed slightly up in cold disregard. “I would hardly call you an expert in family, Captain Jinn. You do not even have a son.”

Jinn moves sharply forward at this, reaching to touch his son’s arm. But before he can touch him, Skywalker intercepts him and grabs his wrist so tightly that Mace can see his hand flexing with the effort. Jinn’s bones must be grinding together. “Do not,” Skywalker says lowly and darkly, every syllable dripping with implicit violence. “Do not try to touch what is not yours, Captain.”

“Ani,” Obi-Wan murmurs, turning in his hold so as to rest his hand lightly on Skywalker’s chest. Mace tenses, wondering if Obi-Wan will be treated with the same violence, the same dark look for having the nerve to try and tame the beast. 

He is not.

The moment their eyes lock, Skywalker lets go of Qui-Gon’s wrist in favor of tucking a piece of hair behind Obi-Wan’s ear once again. There is nothing performative about the action now—just a man who cannot help but touch his—his lover.

The thought sickens Mace, and he knows it must be worse for Qui-Gon, who is still standing where he was left, hand halfway reaching out to his son and far, far too late to ever catch him.

[exonerin]

WIP WEDNESDAY

The third chapter of In Your Dreams! is almost finished. So, that one will go up later this week. Without further ado, here's a preview of chapter 3, which starts with Obi-Wan's POV:

Also, I'm aware this makes no sense whatsoever unless you've read the preceding chapters on AO3, but you really don't want to read my unedited trash.

"We should probably turn on the lights," he decided. Although this didn't look like a medical emergency, Obi-Wan wanted to confirm Anakin hadn't suffered some rare medical condition with a rapid onset that would soon kill his former Padawan. The dim blue glow from the swimming pool obscured all details, casting the pool into dark shadows. Although magical, Obi-Wan needed some actual light to gauge what he was dealing with, and knowing Anakin, anything was possible.

Using the Force, he flicked the lights on, bathing the swimming pool in cold, white light. Although the magical atmosphere was disturbed, Anakin was still a… well, a merman -- a rather smug one, too.

"That was a trivial, arrogant misuse of the Force!" Anakin accused. "Does that mean I have permission to do the same?"

"Has a lack of permission ever stopped you?" Obi-Wan asked.

"I'll take that as a tacit agreement," Anakin gloated, looking so triumphant that Obi-Wan decided to drop the issue altogether. If improper use of the Force brought his former Padawan joy, he would gladly overlook it. Instead, he focused on the tail.

It was gorgeous, the most majestic thing Obi-Wan had ever seen. Long and sleek, the tail was draped over the tiles. Thin as a membrane, a long caudal fin crowned the tip of Anakin, painted in a dark shade of russet -- almost blood red, as was the dorsal fin. These dark hues only emphasized the blazing red scales on the tip of Anakin's tail, which tapered to a pretty pink near his waist, where the scales grew sparser. The pale shade of pink looked vulnerable compared to the intense red near the tip, so exposed, sensitive, and soft that Obi-Wan itched to reach out and stroke over the smooth scales.

He lifted a hand slowly, giving Anakin time to jerk away or show discomfort. Anakin didn't react at all. His fingertips touched the vibrant red first, glidingly smoothly over the slimy scales, which were as soft as Obi-Wan had imagined. In wonder, he pressed his palm against the red scales, stunned by the contrast between his skin and the scales.

Stars. Anakin was beautiful.

Languidly, his hand trailed higher over the center of Anakin's tail, taking his sweet time to marvel at the glide. The scales grew paler as he traveled further until he reached the tea rose and dusty pastel pinks. Somehow, these scales were even softer, almost bending under Obi-Wan's soft touch, dipping under his fingertips. Enchanted, he rubbed over the scales, keeping his touch light to avoid hurting Anakin. His calloused fingers looked rough compared to the fragile scales, and he discovered that the pink scales had veins running through them, barely visible due to their pale color. The scales were thin, Obi-Wan judged, barely providing any protection, unlike the thicker scales near the tip. Intrigued by this discovery, he brushed his thumb over the scales, noting minute differences in color and saturation. Some scales were almost pearly white. As he rubbed his thumb over the scales, they seemed to split in a thin line several centimeters below Anakin's belly button, which was exposed since his tunic had rucked up at some point. Probably when Obi-Wan had deposited him on the tiles. He hadn't noticed, too immersed in Anakin's tail.

And then we stop because I'm not sure how far I can go with explicit content on here. Needless to say, Obi-Wan will indulge some scientific curiosity. Anakin's a willing victim of said research.

[galactic-pirates]

Liveblog of episode 5 of Ahsoka. In which I have many feelings.

Ahhhh I’m so glad Huyang found Sabine’s helmet I was worried about that haha. His “I told them to stay together” and yup and because of that we doubly all saw this coming. I feel really bad for him as he might think both Sabine and Ahsoka are dead and obviously Huyang survived Order 66 (and is so much older as well). He has seen generations of Jedi from helping to craft their first lightsaber. He will have seen them die, most of them far younger than anyone would hope. If only they stayed together, there is safety in numbers. But Order 66 split the Jedi across the Galaxy - took them away from each other - and they fell one by one. Oh it hurts.

I find it interesting that Anakin is still wearing his “almost but not quite Sith” outfit he had in the third movie. I mean it was also his Clone Wars outfit. It was how Ahsoka knew him but it’s not the outfit he was put in for the replacement end scene in Return of the Jedi which was the stereotypical Jedi robes (identical to Obi-Wan).

I gasped with the “I won’t fight you” line as that’s what Ahsoka said to him in Malachor. “I’ve heard that before” - yes! And I remember when. Can you imagine that fight from his POV as suddenly a stormtrooper just yanks Ahsoka through a portal that came out of nowhere and boom she is gone.

Senator Organa!!!! I am screaming. Oh I love love love love that!!! Yay Leia covering for them. Oh that is so awesome! I know, I know, I am easily pleased but yay I am smiling so hard.

I love that Hera didn’t dismiss Jacen. She got Chopper to check, there was nothing, but she still listened and followed Jacen in listening. Did she know it was the force or was she just showing him respect? He might be a kid but he’s still a person. OMG OMG OMG they mentioned Kanan!!! Jacen has abilities - yes! Baby Jedi and I love that Carson is just like “whelp ok Jedi weirdness have to roll with it” and immediately snapped to it. I wonder why Hera didn’t taken Jacen in the Ghost. I mean if he can hear the fight, might she not think he could sense it and find it? Also leaving him alone on a planet, even with Chopper, seems risky.

Oh wow live action Clone Wars and baby Ahsoka. Oooooh and they remembered to give her a green lightsaber. So sad all those hurt and dead troopers :( I know Ahsoka is a baby Jedi but that is still a lot to put a kid through. Star Wars doesn’t seem to care about that though. I mean Padme was Queen/leader of her planet as a teen.

I’m not sure if that Clone Wars was a memory/flashback or not. The Anakin that talked to Ahsoka about war, said that he had to train her to be a solider. There seemed to be Anakin’s usual attempt to connect but then a failure with the joke “teaching isn’t all it’s cracked up to be” to lighten the mood but Ahsoka wasn’t there yet. He then got defensive and grumpy “what do you want from me?” because really Anakin chafes under orders but can’t exist without them. He needs to be told what to do. It feels very realistic like this might actually have happened. Right up until the “what if I want to stop fighting?” “Then you’ll die” as they aren’t in the middle of the battle exactly. Yes it’s close but there is the injured men behind the frontline, there’s the Walkers etc. I don’t know my gut feeling says Clone Wars Anakin would have let Ahsoka step back from the battlefield. He didn’t want to lose her, he wanted her to stay a Jedi, and in those times that meant the war, but would he have made her fight if her head wasn’t there? He absolutely didn’t want her to die. Is this part of the tunnel vision that Anakin saw no other options but the lie of hiding his marriage? Staying a Jedi, fighting the war, and the fight was all there was? That shot with the smoke and then flash Vader, flash Anakin, sure was something. Stunning and impactful.

I wonder did Hera hear the lightsabers? Did Jacen somehow share that with her? “You do things your way because you care. This is why people like you” - I put on another tag that it must be hard to stop being a rebel, as that was years of living to conscience not the rule of law/government authority. So the New Republic is leagues better than the Empire but it’s still an organisation operating to the Greater Good, and people will get lost/hurt in the shuffle. Hera always understood the cost of the mission but she was also free to choose the priority based on conscience. She did right by the Rebellion but she also did right by her family. This wasn’t a case where she had to choose, as it didn’t hurt the New Republic to come help Ahsoka and Sabine.

I hope Huyang put Sabine’s helmet in her old room on the Ghost. Reunion for Sabine and her helmet in the finale.

Oh blink and you miss it live action Rex. Siege of Mandalore explains the Ahsoka face paint clone, also the Mando enemy and not separatists droids. Also her now blue lightsabers which I had thought was just the light not showing right in the smoke. I also had initially thought it was a Bounty Hunter as it was the same battle, and it looked like there was a blue twi’lek in the earlier one. I had thought perhaps that was Aayla Secura but she had what looked like a blaster rather than a lightsaber.

I’m not sure what Anakin is trying to teach Ahsoka here. These flashbacks, not flashbacks? back to the war. It’s like Ahsoka is saying Baylan was right, she is a soldier, a bringer of death - and the battlefield scenarios support that - and also Anakin is saying she is a fighter. But then it’s there is more to the legacy? And she has learned nothing? and he’s going all Sith eyes. I am confused. Man Anakin striding forward and the flash to Vader, the show is really bringing it with the artistry. Wow she disarmed him. A true reflection of her skill? Or was the point to make her choose life rather than death? Anakin’s eyes are back to normal. “There’s hope for you yet” and he’s gone.

I wonder… so much about Ahsoka. So much about any Jedi post-Order 66 is the trauma of survival. Being stuck alive but dead in so many ways, of having lost a lot of what made them who they are, of not being allowed to be themselves. Having to hide their abilities, beliefs, deny their history etc. it’s like Ahsoka died on that Venator and she has been a Ghost ever since. Ha! I kinda just got that with the whole Ghost + Spectre thing. I mean also haunting the Empire, elusive and hard to catch but yeah the enemy they thought they had buried - the Jedi.

I read a meta. I think it was probably Gffa but it might have been someone else, wondering if Ahsoka only took Sabine as her padawan because she wasn’t force-sensitive. She could teach lightsaber techniques and not have to worry about the call to the dark side. Sabine could have emotions and it wouldn’t be Anakin. Now I’m not 100% sure if I buy that completely but it’s a plausible read. Ahsoka definitely feels stuck. So the whole “I choose to live” thing isn’t just a way out of this “world between worlds” force-willed safety net, it’s also potentially a release of the death and the chance for a new beginning? Maybe that was the point of the Clone Wars flashbacks, to face where it started and to say “I don’t live here anymore”.

Impressive job making the orange make-up waterproof. Ahsoka looked different without the headdress. Jacen playing with Chopper is so pure and I love that he ran over to give Ahsoka a hug. Sad though that he’s not been in her ship before, indicates they aren’t hugely close. But I love how indulgent and warm Hera and Ahsoka looked as Huyang answered Jacen’s questions. I still love that Ahsoka can sense force echoes like Cal Kestis can.

Chopper’s “uhoh” was awesome. And naturally Hera is like ugh politics, Sabine is family and my priority. Hera knows what it could cost her Ahsoka going after Sabine but it’s a price she will willingly pay. It’s not just her career, it’s her place in the world, it’s the ability to be part of things and keep making a difference. But what difference can she make if she sacrifices her integrity? Hera is so awesome. Never losing sight of that when arguably so many others (like perhaps Mon Mothma) has.

Small things I do love seeing Ahsoka’s ship next to the Ghost. I am still unnaturally happy everytime the Ghost is on screen.

I love Carson bullshitting to protect Hera. I mean he was a fun character in Mando season 1-2 but has really come into his own. I love characters who show loyalty like that. Awwww man Hera and Jacen, my heart can’t take it it’s so sweet “just like the stories you told me”. Ezra has never met him but I super adore that Jacen knows all about him.

Haha going in the whales mouth. I feel like there’s a reference here. Jonah? I mean chasing the white whale of Thrawn I guess. I’m not sure I like Ahsoka being so zen about “better than going nowhere” given Sabine’s in danger. But I guess even Ezra couldn’t tell them where to go, he just got to them to take Thrawn’s ship along for the ride. I love how the purgills just went around the fleet. Proof they only hit ships accidentally maybe? It’s a shame Hera and the Ghost isn’t going but a leap into the unknown like that would be crazy with Jacen so fair and I guess someone has to fill out the paperwork.

Wow what an episode. Shame Sabine didn’t appear but I think that would have been too much. There was a lot here without the third plot line and my usual complaint is that they rush stuff, so the delving into the Clone Wars flashback/memory things and giving them the time and weight they deserved was good. The sheer artistry.

I still don’t agree with some of the story points like the ridiculous ancient map (as how can they know that’s related to Thrawn and Ezra’s location?), or Sabine as a non-force sensitive Jedi? (Seriously it makes no sense) but I can’t deny this show has been made with an obvious real love for the franchise. I have a real love for Star Wars too so it’s great to see.

[tremendouskoalachild]

Chapter 7. We get an inquisitor POV!!! Fuck yeah.

Fifth is so lame. I love him.

Probably a good time to remember what I know about the guy. This is pre-Rebels and the Obi-Wan show, so... the 2017 Vader comics? I know Fifth was already an established inquisitor pretty early post-ROTS. Vader cut of his hand in their training exercise and some time later he was part of the team stealing Koth's newborn kid. That's it right?

And he's stupid also. My darling boy.

Masochistic inquisitor, what else is new.

Not to get into a whole pro-Jedi anti-Jedi debate but literally what are the Jedi supposed to do to "step in", my guy.

Oh and now he's kissing the ground. How much kinkier is this phonecall gonna get?

I actually kinda enjoy Jedi-bashing from darksiders but I like to know what the author's actual thoughts on the issue are. Let's not get into another Traviss situation, yeah?

Also who thought it was a good idea to send him alone. There's a reason they pretty much always show up in teams of at least two, and it's not just that their superiors love their petty rivalries as much as I do. Well, at least we know he's making it out of this book.

😏

This is I think the second time Greez got called the best pilot in the galaxy. Pretty sure that's just what everyone in sw says to pilots on the regular because I don't even remember him doing anything special. Sorry Greezy.

Merrin, my love, the whole "this is not a movie" cliché does not apply here. An intelligence operative's defection being in doubt is pretty reasonable.

Not posting the page or so long seduction scene between Fret and Merrin in Cal's room for some reason but I will complain about the term "Dathomirian". Why can't we just use "Dathomiri"... :(

Ok but girls, you literally have your own cabin. Are you actually gonna fuck on the psychometric kid's bed?? That's all kinds of inconsiderate.

Back to Cal! Greez, Fret is sus af but literally not a stormtrooper.

We get another confirmation that Cal def has a crush on Merrin. That's gonna be awkward when you go to sleep. Maybe he can get a place to lie down that isn't in the loud as fuck engine room??

Cal I'm loving the confidence but you are hardly the most wanted fugitive out there. For fuck's sake we're still in Anakin's Obi-Wan obsession era, and even without him and other surviving Jedi I'm sure there are bigger fish than a teenage dropout who broke into a prison and barely got out with his life 5 years ago. (Yeah I know he could be in his early twenties in the book. The lack of confirmed ages vexes me greatly.)

But also. Merrin apparently got plenty of bitches and she's been on the run with you the whole time. And she's much more recognizable than a random white boy. Just die your hair dude.

(Greez is totally right btw. For such a handsome guy Cal got no game.)

Um. What?

That's not how it works, Greez.

Cal living in solitude for most of his childhood sure is news to me. Where did that line come from.

Nooo not the attachment discourse.

[phoenixyfriend]

Now I want a fic where Anakin realizes he's accidentally brainwashed his wife, fears he's brainwashed EVERYONE ELSE who loves him, and decides he has to ask a Mature Adult to help him undo it, but it has it be someone who's proven immune to his bullshit affection mojo

Yoda is too nice to him, in his opinion. He decides to go to Mace, because Anakin's pretty sure that even when Mace is being polite to him, it's only out of professional courtesy.

(It's not, but Anakin POV is famously unreliable.)

Mace is. So tired. They're eighteen months into a war and Skywalker is having a mental breakdown (again) about free will and love.

And despite the war eating all Mace's time, this is somehow legitimately more urgent.

Anakin fully intends to go entirely no contact with Everyone. He is going to do solo missions and receive instructions by comm and stop influencing people because he'll wear FORCE CUFFS when MEETING WITH THEM.

Mace tells him to dial it down a bit, they can start with just the cuffs as a specialist undoes whatever Anakin thinks he did to Obi-Wan or Ahsoka, first (the cuffs are so he doesn't accidentally redo what the specialist undoes), and once they have more information on what and how, they can go from there.

I think that with most people who like him or find him charismatic, the Force Vibes are only as strong as like... subconscious messaging (like wearing makeup, a nice suit, body language, etc).

Mace just thinking "Well... at least his intentions are good, even if the solution is a bit... much..."

(And, hey, at least he's avoiding Palpatine now!)

And from @jebiknights:

It's also ironic though because aside from Padme where it happened in relative isolation in a short period of time, most of the other people he could influence either like, straight up don't like him/are neutral to him, or like... in reality like with Obi-Wan where even though they had a Force Bond, Obi-Wan is known for having good shielding and resisting suggestion so like, Obi-Wan's probably fine but also Anakin would once again be turning over the fact over and over again that Obi-Wan only took him on because of Qui-Gon, and that he got Obi-Wan essentially repudiated by his Master- the only reasonable explanation when he thinks about it is that he had been influencing him the whole time! You also have to wonder though if the people who do actually dislike him also weren't picking up subconsciously on his own insecurities? (not everyone but yaknow, also a possibility I guess) I feel like it's likely though that random people that he doesn't have a lot of contact with probably do pick up on his "please please please like me" vibes and that could influence the random people who end up looking up to him as the chosen one

[obi-wkenobi]

I’ve missed writing from Obi-Wan’s POV, so I knocked this out fairly quickly. The story becomes vaguely spicy, but that's it.

---

He and Anakin were stationed on Rith for what Obi-Wan had to reluctantly admit was the most absurd mission they had perhaps ever received. The Rithan’s were a luxurious, but traditional species, and so unlike the other Mid Rim planets neighbouring them. They were very much like the elite of Coruscant, in that they revered the sophisticated and lavish, though they differed with their need for conservatism. They had heard his accent, prim and distinctly lilted, and had immediately presumed that he was like those found on the upper levels of the Core World—privileged and of assumed value. They hadn’t cared for his disagreements, nor the lightsaber that hung from his belt that should have immediately made them re-evaluate their assumptions. 

Obi-Wan stared at himself in the gilded silver mirror and grimaced at his reflection. He was wearing a suit. Not the garish modern ones he saw on the front page of Courscant Weekly, or even the ones he saw in the underground, ill-fitting and worn. It didn’t look like anything that had been worn by any species in the past few centuries. It looked stiff, like it had been kept from prying hands with the hope that it would one day be worn by someone the Rithan’s deemed as worthy.

He wore a crisp white shirt, long-sleeved and carefully ironed, that stuck to the faint dampness of his back. Over it, there came a rather dreary brown tie, followed by a navy waistcoat, not made of the silk or rich cotton that was typical of such garments, but made out of tweed. It wrapped around his waist tightly and pulled itself together by five perfectly spaced buttons at its front. Then came the tweed jacket, falling to midway down his arse and stretching across his shoulders so that they looked broad and strong, cinched by two buttons and accessorised with a pale blue handkerchief kept in the upper left pocket. The patterned trousers were perhaps the least unassuming, though they also fit him flawlessly, hugging his thighs and arse more than anything he had ever worn before.

Behind him, he heard Anakin enter the room and then sensed the sudden flare of surprise in his Force signature, followed by a sharp jerk of molten heat that his former Padawan hid quickly. He flicked Anakin a confused look in the mirror and went back to trying to do up the cufflinks of his shirt, which shouldn’t have been so difficult, especially considering the numerous times he had undressed others with far more tricky configurations of clothing.

Hasty hands suddenly joined his own, one flesh and the other mechanical. 

“Let me,” Anakin breathed, oddly strained.

Obi-Wan grumbled a noise of concession and watched as Anakin threaded the cufflinks with strangely unsteady hands.

“This damn suit is so tight that I’m worried what will happen when I sit down.”

He raised an intrigued eyebrow when Anakin only swallowed thickly, his breathing unusually shallow as he moved on to the second sleeve. As always whenever Anakin ignored him, Obi-Wan had the abrupt urge to grab him by the curls of his bowed head and force him to meet his eyes.

“It looks good being so well fitted though,” he eventually replied, reedy and thin.

Obi-Wan eyed him as he pulled away and forced down the exasperation that always came at Anakin’s lack of focus. He pulled the bunched silk handkerchief from his pocket and passed it to the younger man.

“Try and fold this up for me, I couldn’t get it right.”

Anakin obediently began doing so and Obi-Wan marveled at the prompt compliance, so sure that Anakin would have teased him for his incompetence rather than immediately accede. He took the moment to observe Anakin, the peculiar demureness hit Obi-Wan hard, both by the frantic thud of his heart and the deep and low drum below his belt, sparking adrenaline in his veins like the crackle of an electroblade. 

“Are you okay?” Obi-Wan asked, worried. “I hope you're not offended that the Rithan's didn't give you a suit too, Anakin. In all honesty, I think it’s slightly ridiculous that my accent has caused such hassle.”

Obi-Wan allowed Anakin to place the handkerchief back in his pocket, now neatly folded, and turned back to the mirror, running his hands through his hair and pushing back the loose strands that always tried to pry themselves free from their place.

Next to him, Anakin made some curious high-pitched sound, almost a whine. “I don’t care about that,” he croaked.

Anakin’s eyes caught his in the mirror, dark and heady, and he felt a jolt of want tug in his gut, followed swiftly by fond exasperation. He let out a deep laugh. “Really, Anakin? You like it that much?”

Anakin came to stand before him and reached out a hand to press against his chest, before slowly moving it down so that it came to rest on Obi-Wan’s hip. It felt as scorching as a brand and almost as intoxicating as the scarlet that had bloomed across Anakin’s cheeks.

This close, Obi-Wan could hear the shaky exhales of his breath, could see the bobbing of his throat as he swallowed thickly, and he felt as if nothing but the two of them existed in that moment. 

“You look—” Anakin began, before ducking his head shyly.

“Yes?” Obi-Wan prompted, both baffled and amused.

“Powerful,” Anakin murmured, licking his lips. “You look powerful.”

Obi-Wan huffed out a surprised sound. “And you like that?”

Anakin pressed himself closer to him, and Obi-Wan very nearly groaned aloud—he could feel exactly how much Anakin liked that. “Yes,” he breathed, high and wanton. “Stars, yes, especially on you.”

Anakin’s hand moved to his belt, attempting to unbuckle it before Obi-Wan’s stopped him with a firm grip. “Not right now, the Rithan representative is due any minute.”

A whine definitely sounded this time, and Anakin’s expression turned frustrated and petulant. “I’ll make it quick, Master.”

“No, Anakin,” he said sternly.

“I won’t be able to go out there like this and act like nothing is wrong when you look like that. Please, Master,” Anakin begged. 

Obi-Wan straightened his tie in an attempt to regather his composure, only to feel himself throb heavy in his trousers when Anakin’s eyes latched on to his hands and greedily roamed across his chest and shoulders.

Obi-Wan breathed deeply. “On your knees then, dear one.”

Anakin dropped to them with an eagerness that made Obi-Wan huff out a laugh. He soon fell silent when Anakin blinked up at him, blue eyes heavy lidded and desperate. He was waiting for instruction, Obi-Wan realised with a shock of excitement down his spine, his own hands trembling as they undid the buttons of his jacket. He moved his stance so that he stood wide, accommodating Anakin’s place between his legs and the ache hanging thickly between his thighs.

“Go on then,” Obi-Wan rasped, hips twitching forward as Anakin’s hands settled on them once again, “let’s see if you can make me come in the few minutes we have.”

Unsurprisingly to either of them, Anakin took to the challenge and succeeded, and even finished with some time to spare.

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Here’s the suit that I used as inspiration. Obi-Wan would look good in it. 🤤