#but please understand that i have heard this a thousand times before from aromantics and alloromantics alike and i am very tired

[arotechno]

thewholesomecat replied to your post “Nonamory as Curse: Aromanticism and Amatonormativity in Tumblr...”

I actually like to think that soulmates don't have to be romantic and can even include pets. Most of the popular soulmate AUs don't explicity state that it doesn't work that way so it should be possible. But then again I'm alloromantic and don't experience society's heavy focus on romance as bad most of the time or at least not like an aro person does. So, I do understand that a lot of aros can get tired or pissed off by the concept of soulmates

This post I made a long time ago explains why saying soulmates don’t have to be romantic is not comforting to me, and I would suggest you give it a read if you are able. My issue with soulmates is not just the heavy focus on romance, but also the fact that as a nonamorous person (someone who does not form committed partnerships of any kind, romantic or otherwise) this idea does not make space for me. As I said in the post you’re replying to, “Amatonormativity is so prevalent in tumblr’s soulmate culture that even platonically, aros are expected to form life-long, committed partnerships with Someone Special, and the consequences for not measuring up to that expectation are often damaging.”

And so it doesn’t matter to me if they don’t have to be romantic. I do really love my friends and maybe that would “count” but that isn’t universal to every aromantic person, and even if it was I still believe that soulmates are a generally harmful concept.

I would also ask that you not give your opinion on aromantic issues unprompted if you yourself are not aromantic. There is plenty of writing out there from a ton of aro bloggers (including myself) about why these ideas are harmful; in the future, please take the time to read more of our perspectives before presenting your own idea, as chances are we’ve already heard it a thousand times before.

[lawslessons]

Daylight Dreaming (Zoro x Luffy)

“He’s all I can ever think about, it’s always been him, hasn’t it?”

Letter Z from the Soulmate AU list. I wanted to explore the possibility of Luffy not reciprocating any feelings or any possible attraction to our swordsman based off of a theory I heard about Luffy being aromantic/asexual. And at the same time, I wanted to see if I could intermingle platonic and romantic soulmates at the same time! I hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Suggested ace/aro Luffy, One sided love, angst

Synopsis: The light burned his dreams, but then that light became a person, and then a feeling, and then his everything. Zoro was confused about why Luffy was suddenly showing up in his dreams, and then one day he wasn’t. Was he doing something wrong?

Zoro lethargically looked up at the burning sun in front of him. He flexed his hands into a fist and looked over at both of his hands in his crucifixion pose. He was almost free, he had been there for so long, he felt the world around him beginning to spin. The sun beat down on him and left him feeling drained and empty, it was beginning to hurt, his stomach was empty and his throat was dry, but he was not about to quit. Not now, not when he was so close…

That thought lingered in the swordsman’s mind as he drifted off to sleep again. His dreams have been rather odd his whole life. He had adventure dreams where he was the protagonist of his own story. And with him, he had a companion made out of light that seemed to follow him everywhere. He always enjoyed hearing what the light being had to say, but when he woke up, he could never seem to recall what was said to him. This process went on for ten years, and like today, it was no different. He went on his adventure with his light friend before he woke up and faced the burning reality in front of him. A bead of sweat dropped down his face and onto the sandy ground helplessly. It was almost time, he knew he could wait longer he had to. He had to finish this and go back to his goal of becoming the worlds greatest swordsman for him and his friend. For her.

Zoro sighed and closed his eyes, things felt easier when he was asleep and he could hear his voice again. That soft laugh, it brought a smile to his face. But wait. He wasn’t asleep. His eyes shot open when he saw a shorter male with black hair and a straw hat smiling up at him.

“Join my crew!” And with that, Zoro’s life had changed. When he slept next, he was on the ship with his captain, Luffy. This time, he didn’t see his light friend, instead he saw his captain smiling at him and going with him on the adventures just like the light being did. Zoro didn’t understand what that meant, but he also didn’t think that much into it. These dreams went on for weeks, and then it was months and before he knew it, he was on the Thousand Sunny exercising with Robin in the room and talking to her about his dreams.

“Have you ever had the dreams with a person of light in it?” Robin asked as she flipped a page in her book. Zoro grunted and thrusted his arms down with the absurdly large weight on it.

“The light dreams? I did for a long time, but that light person isn’t there anymore,” Zoro explained as he continued with his set. When he noticed how silent Robin was, he paused his exercise and looked over at her curiously. “Why?”

“Has that light been replaced by someone else?” She asked as she looked at the swordsman with a soft but excited smile on her face.

“I think? I’m not sure. I don’t remember when the light started to go away,” Zoro admitted as he went back to his set, he still didn’t understand why Robin was asking him all these questions. “What about you? Do you have a light person in your dreams too?” Zoro asked her. Robin smiled and shook her head.

“Not anymore, mine went away rather recently,” Robin shared as she glanced back at her book. That was where their conversation ended but this was when Zoro began to think about some things. He didn’t understand why Robin asked him that, was this normal? That was when he decided he needed answers. When he was about to ask the woman about this, Robin stood up and softly smiled at Zoro. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” She said as she walked away. What did that even mean? Zoro put down his weight and frowned, he didn’t understand what she was going on about anymore. Zoro decided it would be easier to just ignore it and go about his workout.

When he went to bed that night, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep in the boys cabin. He laid awake, staring up at the ceiling before he glanced over at his captain who was curled into his blanket and softly snoring. Zoro looked at him for a small moment before he took in his features. His black hair falling over his face, the small scar on his cheek and the way Luffy’s lips were parted as he breathed in the cool night air. Zoro rubbed his face after a second and went back to staring at the ceiling, that would be easier to explain than staring at his captain. He didn’t dream that night, or the night after that, or the one after that. In fact, this continued for weeks and confused him even more. During this time, Zoro found himself having more restless nights where he would watch over Luffy or go walking around the ship to make sure everyone else was safe.

During the day, he would work out and fall asleep in the crow’s nest, but no dreams would come. Just the fact that he wasn’t having dreams wasn’t the only thing bothering him. The other thing that frustrated him was how soft he was becoming towards his captain, one of his closest friends. Were his eyelashes always that long? Was his skin always that smooth? Zoro felt his mind beginning to swim the more he thought about it. And the more he stared at his captain, the less innocent his thoughts became. When Sanji passed by him with a tray of drinks, Zoro grabbed one off the tray and poured the sticky drink over his face to snap himself out of it.

“OI! Asshole! That was for Nami and Robin!” Sanji began to scold, but his words fell on deaf ears. No matter what Zoro tried, his mind couldn’t get off his captain. When he trained, the music in his ears was Luffy’s laugh. During dinner, he didn’t feel like he could drink alcohol since he was drinking in Luffy’s smile. God, when did he become like this? Was he always like this? The swordsman looked frustrated with himself the longer this went on.

He needed help.

There was only one person he knew he could ask about this.

“Robin, please. What does the light in my dreams mean? And why am I not getting dreams anymore?” Zoro asked with his tail between his legs. His pride faltered, his emotions were beginning to get the better of him and he needed the help of Robin before he lost his mind. Robin looked over at him and chuckled. She knew he needed help, but she didn’t expect him to stake her out in the ship’s library for it.

“You’re not getting dreams anymore?” Robin asked as she put her book down and rested her hand on the bookcase. She brushed her long black hair away from her tanned skin and sighed. “That happens, don’t worry. You’re close to realizing it, there’s one more step until you can see your dream person again,” Robin explained, and to her surprise, Zoro was listening to her with intent. He pursed his lips together and nodded, he needed to know what to do to get his mind back to normal again. He wanted things to go back to the way they were, but he supposed it was maybe too late by this point. “You need to kiss the person who used to show up in your dreams,” Robin grinned. Zoro’s face bloomed red at that and he took a couple of steps back in shock.

“Kiss? I have to kiss Luffy?” Zoro blurted out before he covered his mouth with his hand and stared down at his feet. Robin’s laughter filled the room and it made the swordsman that much more embarrassed.

“So that’s why you’ve been staring at him, I knew it, I was just teasing about kissing him, don’t worry,” Robin smiled, Zoro looked over at the woman and rose a brow, silently asking her to elaborate what she meant. “The only way you can get him back in your dreams is if you’re honest with yourself and him,” she said, “Remember how I said if I told you back then that you wouldn’t believe me? Well, I feel like now you may believe me. Maybe,” she said as she picked up her book again and began to leave the library with Zoro trailing after her. “He’s your soulmate,” she casually said before leaving the room. Zoro was left standing in the room, stunned and confused. It felt as if he was hit by a cannon ball. Not only was Luffy potentially his soulmate, he had to kiss him. Maybe. Right? Just thinking about doing that to his captain felt wrong to him, after all, how on earth could someone like Luffy reciprocate the feelings that Zoro was experiencing?

But before he could even think about kissing his captain again, Sabody happened. Then instead of it being days, it was weeks. And months. And then years. Zoro believed that time would fix his affliction, it would make him not be so distracted over his captain but he was proven wrong. The longer he was away from his captain, the more intense his feelings became. He distracted himself with his training, and before he knew it, two years passed and he was physically a lot stronger and mentally too in all things except one. Him. Zoro was ten days early to their meeting spot. Every day was filled with dread, anxiousness and excitement as he waited for his friends and captain. When the day finally came that he saw Luffy again, he didn’t even have time to take him in because of the fight that occurred on the island. But when they were all on the ship again, Zoro watched as everyone had a proper reunion. He said his greetings to his friends, but ge actively avoided Luffy until he was forced to confront him in the night.

“Oi, Zoro,” Luffy said up to the swordsman. Luffy had his arm’s crossed over his chest and stared up at Zoro and looked him over. Zoro had a scar over his eye and seemed to be sporting some new clothes. Nice. “I missed you,” Luffy said before he hugged onto the swordsman and laughed. Zoro gasped and felt his entire face turn red when he felt his captain’s cheek against his rapidly beating heart.

“I missed you too,” Zoro managed to say before he cautiously hugged Luffy back. And when his hands met the small of his captain’s back, his entire body flooded with warmth and his pulse steadied until it felt like his and Luffy’s hearts were in sync. “So much…” Zoro said as he tightened the hug. He felt like they were the only people in the world. He didn’t mind having to wait longer for Luffy if he had to, he would wait his whole life for him.

That night when Zoro slept, he found himself looking into a colorful ocean, and being on a bright ship. On the bow of the ship sat his captain with hands stretching out towards the swordsman. Zoro took his hands and moved to be sitting next to him as the dream Luffy babbled about nothing and everything. Even if Luffy didn’t feel the same about him now, or ever, Zoro was alright with that. At least he would always have his dreams.

[gabriel4sam]

Reluctant wedding bells, a Obi-Wan/Satine story

When Duchesse Satine learned that the Senate would force the Jedi to marry, she immediatly sent a proposal for General Kenobi's hand, fearing every world would try to snatch him. Asking Obi-Wan before would have been a nice idea, perhaps... Now, two people who thought they would only have their duty until the end of their lives must learn to navigate married life. And that's without the proud Mandalorian tradition to try to murder their leader!

The story under the cut . 

It was with swearing that Obi-Wan learned of his nuptials to be. Swearing so colourful, so original, that Anakin covered Ahsoka’s head with his hands, protesting:

“Master!”

“That’s not where my ear canals start, Master,” Ahsoka informed him helpfully.

“No, really?” Anakin asked, distracted for a second.

“Also, when I will be fully formed, the part of the montrals where you have your hands will become an erogenous zone.” Anakin took his hands back with a horrified squeak and Ahsoka giggled.

“Snips! Is this…are you pranking me? Please tell me you’re pranking me.”

“Really, Anakin, do you need to go back to interspecies sensitivity training?” Obi-Wan quipped and Anakin suddenly remembered how it had started.

“Don’t swear around my Padawan!”

“Your Padawan have been on battlefield. And in the Senate. I’m sure she had heard worst.”

“Master!”

“But I will make an effort to express myself with the proper decorum of a Jedi Master.”

With a sigh, he seated down heavily next to Anakin. His former Padawan nudged him with his shoulder.

“Would it be so horrible? To be married with Satine? You are very close. And as the Jedi expert on marriage –“

“Because you’re the only married Jedi. Because you wed in secret against the old rules without even inviting your poor Master.” Obi-Wan snapped in answer.

“- yes, that, well, I’m still the only married Jedi you know. And I can affirm married life is awesome. Especially since you won’t have to hide and lie like Padme and I had in our first years.”

“Once again, because you wed in secrets breaking your vows and didn’t even tell me!”

“Do I sense a little rest of animosity about that? Snips, stop giggling right now or you’ll do laps around the Temple with me chasing you with a training saber.”

“It’s been long since you stopped being capable of running faster than me, Master mine.”, the Tortuga answered immediately.

“I get no respect, why, but why, you used to be such a nice Padawan,” Anakin tipped his face up, studying the high ceiling of the room of the Thousand Fountains and the sky outside like it would answer his question.

Obi-Wan grinned, all saccharine sweetness.

“I feel avenged,” he remarked and Ahsoka had another fit of giggle and leaned down over Anakin, offering a high five that Obi-Wan took, with a glee totally unsuitable for a serious and stern Council Member, in Anakin’s opinion.

Peace had been good for them, Anakin thought. For the entire Jedi Order, in fact, and laughs were now a common sound in the Temple. “It’s like dodging a bullet,” Captain Rex had remarked, “you can be angry people shoot at you, or happy they missed. And all of you are happy you’ve not been brutally murdered by brainwashed violations of your slavery laws.”

At that time, there were a few grimaces, but Captain Rex had no intention to relent or to care about other people feelings until his brothers had full sentient rights. Something that shouldn’t be too long: in a week the new Chancellor would be sworn in and he was a smart man, understanding they would all have been doomed without Fives.

The new Chancellor still couldn’t work miracle and he had a choice to make: push for the clones’ right or derail the idiotic laws some dumbass Senators had passed during the chaos after Sidious’ death, a law that called for Jedi’ s marriages, as a way to integrate them better into society.

With a sigh, Anakin let his head against the trunk of the tree behind him, his thoughts running in his head. A moment later, Ahsoka remembered her remedial courses in Galactic history and flew to her classroom in a hurry, with a choice of words that made Anakin cringe.

Against him, he felt Obi-Wan’s warmth and in the Force, he felt the inner peace of this former Master struggling against the news of his impending marriage.

“There are exceptions in that law,” he said to cheer him up.

“Yes, but it would be disrespectful to pretend I’m something I’m not. I’m not going to tell the commission I can’t marry because I’m asexual, or aromantic, or anything in those lines, when it would be a lie. And I hope the Senate will relent a little if a Council member is married. Let the other Jedi have more time…or even let them alone.”

“But you aren’t obligated to be the one taking the fall”, a new voice intervened and Mace Windu came to sit near them.

“Master Windu,” Anakin said with a nod, when the “Mace!” of Obi-Wan was much warmer.

The Korrun Master searched for his words for a moment then he pointed out: “Just because Mandalore offered a…” He seemed lost already and Anakin completed:

“A dowry, like it’s the dark time of bought and paid for brides? Not that Obi-Wan wouldn’t be delightful in white satin.”

“I think I would be much more a lace man,” quipped the red head.

“You two are a menace. But yes. Just because Duchesse Satine seemed determined to not let another planet snatch you, you’re under no obligation to answer it. We have other allies who would offer their hands to a Jedi in some sort of white marriage to protect us from rulers trying to snatch themselves a Jedi as if we are some sort of pet. Let one of us handle it.”

“But,” Obi-Wan observed, red rising on his face, “ Satine… I love Satine.”

It was the first time Anakin heard him speak the words and it was still a shock. Mace himself didn’t seem surprised and only touched Obi-Wan’s shoulder in support.

“I know. But wouldn’t it better if you were to wed, to go to that point on your own? To not be strong-armed into it. I fear what it would do to your relationship.”

It was a good thing Anakin was already seated, he would have fallen on his butt listening to Master Windu. Not for the first time, he asked himself how much the Sith had tainted his vision of the other Jedi.

Obi-Wan smiled, and even in this circumstances, there was real happiness in his eyes.

“I will contact Mandalore myself to accept. I will become Satine’s husband.”

 *****

Obi-Wan had meet a lot of officials in his life, so much that they had a tendency to blur into each other. He was still pretty sure he would have remembered the obnoxious Umbaran, an envoy from the Republic Senate, which was currently having an aneurysm at the idea that the wedding of the first Jedi could be something other than a lavish affair, complete with ambassadors from three thousand words, fireworks and more protocols than a coronation.

On the other side of the table, Satine smiled to him. They hadn’t succeed in meeting without half her court since the two days Obi-Wan had arrived and conversation in public were stilled and awkward, empty of their usual banter. It was more difficult that he thought and his meditations had become a struggle, only helped by Mace’s presence, the older Master playing the role of a calming anchor in their joined meditation. Something Anakin, dear Anakin, could never do, no matter his desire to help. Meditating with him was like trying to swim in a flooding river.

Obi-Wan touched his beard to hide his smile, the Umbaran’s words more a background than anything. He was blessed, he thought. Blessed by friendship. So many Jedi had been lost and he had grieved for friends, but he still had Mace, who was playing statue on his right, the perfect picture of a Jedi Master, and Anakin, who wasn’t even trying to muffle his yawns on his left and had insisted to come, even if Luke and Leia were only two months old.

Whatever would happen, his friends would stand with him.

He had the Force and his friends…and soon, soon, perhaps Satine? He looked at her from the corner of his eyes. If he could only have two minutes alone with her, a real discussion…

Satine suddenly stood.

“This is ridiculous. Ambassador Deechi,- and Obi-Wan wanted to face palm because of course that was the Umbaran name, he had met him a few times already and once Ahsoka had earned herself lapses around the Temple by falling asleep during a meeting with him- “Ambassador Deechi, Master Kenobi and I will be married at the new moon-”

“In two weeks, really, your Majesty…”

“-And if the ceremony is not ready to the Republic’ specifications, I will kidnap him and marry him with Mandalore’s old laws, in the mountains, with only my sister and a wise man, as it was done in the time.”

The sister in question, who had seemed as bored as Anakin, punched the air with a cry of triumph. The officials, Mandalore and Republic alike, had paled, and were still spluttering when Satine walked around the table and offered her hand to Obi-Wan who raised from his chair to take it obediently.

The fire in this woman….He was smiling like an idiot, he was sure of it.

“Come,” she said and he followed unquestioningly, his hand in hers.

Bo-Katan Kryze turned to the Republic officials and smiled, with too much teeth for her specie.

“So, with the happy couple out of the way, if we talked about details? Like money?”

More spluttering from the officials but she found an unlikely ally in the quiet strength of Master Windu.

“After all, it would be against all civilized behaviour to exile Master Kenobi here, far away from his way of life. A Jedi contingent would be logical and since the Senate quite insisted about Jedi marrying, it wouldn’t be fair if Mandalore payed for said contingent.” He explained.

Mace Windu wasn’t the sort of man who took pleasure in making people pay for his frustration and anger, even in something as temporary as money. But the Jedi were his to protect and the Senators would have happily thrown them to the Rancors. And Obi-Wan had learned more about the diplomatic game from him than from Qui-Gon. The dear man had been has discreet as a Bantha in a state dinner, trampling around on people’s pride in the name of the will of the Force. Mace was much more discreet in negotiations than poor Jinn had ever been. And much more lethal.

“Her excellency Kryze is well within her rights,” he continued, very matter of facts.

“Oh please,” smiled Satine’ sister, “call me Bo-Katan.”

And together, they extracted every cent they could from the Republic, Anakin watching and cheering them on.

During that time, Satine had taken Obi-Wan into her apartment, deep into the palace, into her quiet rooms arranged around a small garden.

“Satine?”

“I wanted you to see them. I…You need to decide if you want to share them with me.”

“Aren’t married people traditionally living together?”

She touched his cheek and he closed his eyes in the caress.

“When I heard about the law…the idea that they could ship you to a foreign world like a prize made me so furious…”

“So, you offered for me.”

“I jumped into decision guided by my anger, without asking you. And I never, ever, would force your hand. You’re not a prisoner. If you want to never see me again after, never think I would impose myself.” Her sharp blue eyes were scrutinising him so fiercely that for a second he asked himself which one of them was really into the mind reading business.  

“You could never.”

Feeling bold, he took the small hand on his face, kissed her wrist. Were they not engaged? He shuddered at the idea that old rules didn’t apply anymore and kissed her wrist again, eyes closed too tight. She smelled of some flowers he couldn’t identify.

“Obi-Wan, look at me.”

He obeyed. She was so close, alive and breathing and smelling so good.

“May I kiss you?” she asked, breathless, and he nodded and closed his eyes again when he felt her mouth on his. Something painful, so usual that he didn’t note it anymore, loosened up in his chest. The second their lips touched, a good part of his worries vanished. With Satine, there was nothing he couldn’t face.

It was only the third time they shared a kiss, and it was so different from the first one, a terrified Padawan and the young Duchess he protected, or from the second, a Master Jedi incognito and the Duchess he had rescued from Maul. It stayed chaste and tender but it was enough to make him weak in the knees.

“I will never ask something of you that you don’t want to give”, Satine whispered against his ear and he shuddered again.

“And if I want to give you everything I am?”

“Then, I will treasure it. I can be greedy, my Obi-Wan. I will keep it and treasure it and claim to the entire world that you’re my beloved.”

Obi-Wan felt a shiver along his nerves and something must have passed in his eyes.

“I will be yours and you’ll be mine,” Satine swore and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed and so thankful.

“Kiss me again?” He asked.

Her lips crushed against his again, less chaste this time, with a hunger he didn’t totally understood. She certainly knew what she was doing and it was a relief: that one of them had more to guide them that two kisses years apart and the stories told by Quinlan!

That third kiss was followed by a fourth, and a fifth. He felt desire rise in him and immediately send it in the Force, an old habit, before remembering he could now embraces it. It was almost too much and he broke the kiss and hid his face into Satine’s neck.

“Will you marry me?” She asked and he smiled and whispered his yes.

“Were you serious about marrying me in two weeks, without all that pump?”

“Would you prefer it?”

He made a face.

“I could do without all the politicians trying to earn points by being invited,” and they were so close that he felt her laugh inside his ribcage.

They couldn’t escape the pump, of course, it would have been too nice. He suspected Bo-Katan ran as much interference as she dared, because she liked the idea of her sister stealing herself a Jedi, in the old ways, but at the end, there were politicians and holoreporters and too much people.

He knelt in front of her, dressed in a Jedi uniform in Kryze colours and felt the weight of the circle of gold she placed on his head like an oath. All his friends had come. Dex and Anakin were crying tear of joys and Bant’s colour around her gills was almost ruby, her skin tone reacting to a strong emotion. Padmé was trying to cover her yawns because the Senate was working fourth time more that it had under Palpatine. Quinlan was wearing his most formal attire, something Obi-Wan would have deemed deeply suspicious if the attire hadn’t the highest collar possible and Quinlan a tendency to like lovers who marked him….

It was a nice ceremony. It was something he never knew he would have. He swore to himself he would do his best to become a good Mandalorian’s consort and stood back, taking her hands in his, smiling so hard it almost hurt.

He was her husband.

And then the problems started.

When you marry a ruler of Mandalore, the problem is that with the marital life came a full planet of Mandalorian….

*******

  Bo-Katan had been happier that she could have imagined at her sister wedding, despite the years of bad blood and silence between them. She was quite proud of them, mending their relationship like that, working together to make their planet united again. She was also so proud of Satine, taking her man out of Republic’s hands and making them pay for it, too. She would have preferred an old ceremony, traditional, in the mountain with only as elder as officiant and herself to represent the clan, but perhaps for her own wedding, if she ever found a man wanting to be kidnapped by her from his clan?

The Jedi thing was clearly unfortunate, really couldn’t Satine have chosen someone a little less controversial with the Jedi-Mandalore history, but nobody was perfect. Most of the Jedi contingent which had accompanied him seemed bearable. She could come to like Kenobi, if he made Satine happy. She had been less convinced at the beginning by the addition of the clones of Jango Fett, but it was evident that even heavy artillery wouldn’t separate them from their former General.

She was whistling when she went around the corner in the familial wing of the palace, ready for bed, already in a nightshirt after a moment in the private sauna….and found a fully armoured Mandalorian wearing gold for revenge, kneeling on a ventilation shaft exit. There were only dark possibilities for that being presence there, and most of them was of the murder of Satine and/or her brand new consort sort. Yelling the Clan Kryze traditional war cry, which hadn’t been used in the palace since some good fifty years, Bo-Katan charged.

She was of the punch first, ask question later Kryze-model, like Korkie father and a long list of ancestors had been and what followed was an epic brawl. She regretted she hadn’t worn her jet pack and full weapon set to bed. The small knife strapped on her tight was clearly not enough as a Beskar'gam opener, even if she cut a tendon successfully, just at the knee, where one of the weaknesses of this type of Beskar'gam was.

A machete. If she survived that one, she would go to bed with a machete strapped to her tight and a blaster under her pillow!

Despite her disadvantage, she was winning, when in a desperate move, the other started his jetpack and thrown the two of them through a window.

That was it. She was dead. That Jedi better protect Satine and Korkie or she would haunt his Coruscanti ass. She closed her eyes against the vision of the ground coming …and opened them a few seconds later because it took too long.

Apparently, because she was floating.

Floating in direction of another window, a little to the right, which opened like it was holocommanded.

She touched the carpet and almost fall down, her knees weak, but strong arms helped her. Strong arms dressed in Jedi tunics.

Come on, a death protecting her sister, even in her nightshirt, would have been better than being saved by one of those…

“Are you alright, your Excellency? Can you stand?”

There was more real preoccupation in the words that she would have thought, and the voice was female. She looked up and her saviour was a Moon Calamari with enormous black eyes and a tattoo around one eye socket, which she was sure had been clone-designed.

Even if the Jedi was keeping Bo-Katan standing up with a strong arm around her, her other hand was extended in direction of the open window, where the would-be assassin was still suspended, too far away to grab anything, head down, trashing like a fish on a hook against the strength of the Force gripping him.

“What’s your name?” Bo-Katan asked, without moving from the Mon Calamari’s arms. The other was smelling salty and was running colder than Bo-Katan, but even then, the red head felt like she had burrowed under a warm blanket and for a second, she asked herself if the other was using the Force to comfort her after that near death experience.

“Bant Eerin, your Excellency.”

“Bant, you definitely should use my first name.”

*****

To the new lovers, intimacy had come naturally. Obi-Wan had been raised in a chaste culture but Jedi took to chastity like a way of life, not like a moral judgement. Once he knew he could look, touch, share… And with Satine? The woman he loved guiding him, he had taken to physical love in her arms like he had been clay shaped to be the perfect lover for her.

They had waited decades for that, in a way, and at the beginning, it was difficult to let go of each other.

Mandalore was too unstable for them to take a honeymoon, but Bo-Katan and the officials were supposed to take care of the planet for them for five days and they had every intention to use those five days.

So, when Satine woke up from their latest session of love making and let her gaze embrace the room, she didn’t immediately realized what had woken her up. The moon was high and letting see every details but she was pretty sure she hadn’t slept more than one hour, so why was she awake? She looked at her bedside. Her holocom was an angry red, a muffled sound coming of it. She looked at her message, then immediately woke up Obi-Wan.

“Someone tried to murder my sister,” she explained, “help me”. With awkward fingers he zipped her, tied, and buttoned, struggling against meters of taffetas and so small ties that he cheated and used the Force, his fingers too big.

“Do you really need all of that stuff?”

“She’s alive and will stay that way if she knows what is good for her. I can’t take the time to dress. I can’t appear weak, and running to her bedside without all that stuff, as you said, that would appear weakness. But I can’t appear too long after, or her own position would be weakened. I never should have given the week to all my handmaidens…Tighter, darling.”

“Tighter and you won’t breath!”

“No, but I will stand straight and proud. Not every Beskar'gam are metal, cyare.”

 *******

There was a delightful small garden, deep in the palace, which had been the late Duchesse, the mother of Satine and Bo-Katan, personal domain. Here, she had escaped the dangers of the court and most of his intrigue, which she hadn’t been really built to endure. The two sisters more precious memories of their parents and their dead brother, Korkie’s father, took place in that garden.

It had been destroyed during the civil war but when it had been possible to use credits for something other than urgent matters, Satine had it remade. That had been the first renovation work in her familial wing.

Not her apartments, not the throne room, not the gallery of old Kryze portraits and holos, that frankly she found creepy, but this garden.

And now, it was only used for family and very close friends. A place without the cutthroat politics of the palace, without the constant need for Satine to watch her tone, her words, her posture.

Satine was half sitting, half reclining in a deep ottoman, Obi-Wan sitting on the floor on a thrown pillow, his feet in the small fish pond. To her great pleasure, he had immediately loved this place and they were already in the habits to come here when they had a little free time.

Obi-Wan was leaning against his wife’s legs and had such an expression of peace on his face, he probably would have purred if he had been physiologically capable of it. He was wearing some tunics in the Jedi’s traditions, but he wore them in Kryze colours, and she loved how he marked himself as hers in this small way. They were still exploring, slowly, the wonders of their newly found intimacy. Satine was finding in herself more joy that she could have believe possible in this exploration. She loved how Obi-Wan slowly unfurled under her guidance. He had come to her curious and a little cautious, deeply unaware of the reality of a relationship.

And she had been, so, so careful, realizing more than him how he could have been hurt in his naivety, how she could have taken from him pieces he didn’t even realize he was losing before it was too late.

The reward of their relationship growing stronger every day had a sweetness that made her heart sing. Every day it deepened, brought them closer and closer. There were so many things to explore together and she wasn’t thinking of sexuality, even, if yes, that would be fun too, to offer to Obi-Wan the multiple nuances of human sexuality and to explore them with him.

They would be so happy, she was sure of it, like they couldn’t have been if he had renounced being a Jedi for her. They would be so happy, like they already were, but every day a little more.

She put down her datapad. Right now, her mind was busier with the wonders of her dear husband than it was with their social life. They needed to choose between the celebrations on Coruscant of the latest Chancellor’s elections, or the second Jedi wedding celebrated since the war, which would happen on Saleucami between a clone Commander and his Jedi. She was sure Obi-Wan would prefer the wedding and if the former would have been more politically smart, making Obi-Wan happy ranked higher than scoring political point.

Like he had heard her thoughts, Obi-Wan turned to her, kissing the hand that had been playing with his hair. Adoration was making his eyes shine. She leaned down for a kiss and perhaps she would have initiated more, cajoled him into going into their bedroom, if not for a noise on the other side of the garden.

The Darksaber had always held a special place in Mandalorian history. It had go from families to families, a symbol of power and duty. In some periods of history, it had also been seen as cursed. The Jedi who had meet their demise by it, less numerous than Mandalorian pretended of course, because trying to kill a skilled Force user with a proximity weapon was a terrible idea, those Jedi were supposed to jinx the saber and those who bear it.

It had been almost six generations since a Kryze had possessed it and Bo-Katan had taken to it with great pleasure and the over eagerness of a murderous Aak puppy.

Nevertheless, even if the Dark Saber had been possessed by the Kryze before in his history, it was certainly the first time it was used that way. To teach a Mandalorian lightsaber combat techniques.  

Bo-Katan lost her footing and she would have fallen into a bush, if Master Windu hadn’t caught her with the Force, and with half a smirk. Her opponent today was Anakin and he was without mercy in training. Around them in circle, Mace, Ahsoka, Bant, Quinlan, Aayla and Siri were commenting and offering advices. Siri was leaning on a crutch, she was just coming back from a hard mission, but the rest of them seemed more rested that they had been in years.

“For a woman who profess to despite Jedi, your sister likes to collect them,” Obi-Wan remarked to his wife, “ and I’m pretty sure your security officers will soon resign if she doesn’t stop asking the Jedi for help in testing their security measures.”

Satine had a smirk and she drawn in his head against her legs again. He had come to bed late all week, negotiating with some exiled Mandalorian structure, one of many, to reinstate them in Mandalorian society. He was a fine negotiator, he was after all THE Negotiator, but Mandalorian had hard skulls and he was pretty tired.

“Bo likes dangerous people,” Satine admitted, starting again to pet his hair,“I think it was only a question of time.”

On the other side of the garden, Bo-Katan had asked for a respite and was drinking some energy drink, as Bant fussed over some minor graze the red head had received.

Satine put her head against the back of the ottoman and closed her eyes, savouring the last rays of the sun on her face. Tonight, there was another dinner with too much small talks and too many people she despised. Tomorrow, there would be politics, internal to Mandalore and also on the galaxy scale, there would be the problems of the latest extremists and their refusal to join Mandalore again unless it burned on their terms, but in that moment, with Obi-Wan safe and happy against her, and Bo-Katan with her again, as happy as she could be, Satine could savour peace.

  A few months after Satine and Obi-Wan had tied their lives together, a bomb went off in their apartments in the middle of the night.

The bombers were good bomb makers, but terrible gossips readers. When the Duchesse’s rooms were gutted by an explosion, said Duchess and her husband were on Coruscant for the wedding of Master Ima-Gun Di and Captain Keeli, a fact that had been announced on every tabloid on Mandalore. In fact, the exact minute the bomb went off, they were cheering with the rest of the assistance as the happy couple kissed for the first time as married couple.

There wasn’t any loss to deplore and the couple found the message when they came back to their rooms in the Mandalore embassy late in the night, and immediately contacted Bo-Katan.

“Don’t change your plan,” the young woman advised, “I’m more than enough to handle that and you rushing back here would be read as you not trusting me enough to kick their asses.”

“Please, don’t maim anybody,” Satine asked, then seeing her sister’s expression, she corrected “please, don’t maim anybody too much.”

“Do you think we should still go back?” Satine asked her husband after, while he was busy with her corset. He had developed quite a talent with her complicated clothes, he would do a good handmaiden. And if sometimes, she loved to see him in said corset, it was between them.

“Let’s take a decision tomorrow,” Obi-Wan said. He kissed the newly unveiled skin of her shoulder, before adding:  “We’re tipsy and tired, it’s not the best moment for that. And Bo-Katan isn’t alone, the Jedi contingent on Mandalore will offer its help in her search of the guilty party. And…well, they will stop them if she try to execute people in a moment of anger. Perhaps there is even some she likes enough to listen to them.”

“She respects Knight Eerin,” Satine admitted.  

“Is that was the kids call it now? Respect? Because I’m pretty sure we used another word when I was a Padawan and you the newly crowned Duchess. I hope your sister is serious. Bant is a serial monogamist.”

Without answering, she turned in his arms, “Enough talk about Mandalore for tonight. Do you know it’s traditional to have sex on a wedding night?”

“It’s not even our weeding night,” Obi-Wan remarked, amused.

“Will you let that stop us?”

“Certainly not.”

When Obi-Wan and his beloved wife were on Ryloth for the weeding of Knight Secura and Commander Bly, Bo-Katan cracked open like a nut a small cell of nostalgic Mandalorians who thought Satine had nothing to do on her throne since she hadn’t killed anyone for it. Fortunately, Anakin was with her to stop the arrests of becoming illegal, which they would have become if she had bashed them on the heads enough to make them spit the names of their sponsor, as was her first idea.

“You shouldn’t do that to me,” he had half-whined to the red head after, “I can’t be the voice of reason, it’s too much pressure!”

Despite his words, he followed her everywhere in her long search. His former Master had never been happier, the shadows in his eyes had never been lighter, and if Bo-Katan needed to play nice for Satine to be happy and safe, then she would play nice, even if Anakin had to follow her everywhere like an overgrown, well-armed puppy.

It had brought about a slight problem between him and Padmé, who couldn’t understand why he couldn’t give that job to a Mandalorian officer, or to another Jedi.

How couldn’t she understand that Obi-Wan’s happiness couldn’t be in the hands of just anybody?

“Pretty sure it’s supposed to be in the hands of the Duchess,” Ahsoka remarked when they talked about it, “Or best, in the hands of Master Kenobi. Because he’s, you know, an adult and even an adultier adult than anybody else we know. Except perhaps Master Windu.”

“Adultier adult?” Anakin had asked, an eyebrow arched, “Should I send you into remedial grammar class, and she had stuck out her tongue, in a childish moment that he saw less and less frequently in her. His heart had squeezed painfully in his chest. His Padawan wasn’t anymore the young Tortuga of their beginning. She was an adult. Soon, very soon, she would be a Knight.

An awesome, awesome Knight, but it seemed to Anakin that Yoda had send her to him only days ago, and now she almost towered above Obi-Wan.

Surprising her, he kissed her brows in a paternal gesture.

“Master?”

“If anybody try to throw that stupid marriage law at you against your will after your Knighthood, we’ll run away together and become pirates,” he simply answered.

“Padmé wouldn’t like it.”

“Sad but true. Doubly sad, because she would make an awesome pirate Queen.”

Bo-Katan and Anakin were on the same opinion about one fact: the ducal couple was safer away from the planet. They insisted, very logically thank you even if later Obi-Wan would pretend they had whined, for them to continue their trip, since it’s was wedding season in the Jedi Order, and to let Anakin and Bo-Katan handle everything else.

Since Obi-Wan didn’t seem convinced, Anakin used his last card and swore he would ask for Cody’s help. The Clone Commander had refused prestigious postings to follow Obi-Wan to Mandalore and was now a member of the Ducal guard, it wouldn’t be complicated to bring him into the investigation, it would even be logical. Of course, it was also a little like offering to bring a baby-sitter with them, but he wasn’t above the slight embarrassment of it, if it kept Obi-Wan safe!

So, Cody, Anakin and Bo-Katan investigated, and Satine and her husband went from wedding to wedding, from worlds to worlds.

Some of those weddings happened between clones and Jedi, most of the time on the worlds of their first missions together, something Satine found half romantic and half creepy, since a lot of those first meetings had included explosions, battle droids and a body count. Some of those weddings happened between officials and Jedi, some in the Senate, some meet in missions, all of them people who had meet the Jedi before that infamous law, and who had saw them leave for another assignment with sadness in their hears. Now, they had a second chance and Satine was happy to see Obi-Wan’s face at every of those weddings. His quiet joy at seeing his friends and brethren found, if not the love the two of them had, but strong, good pairings, full of respect and trust. He even cried a little, when Mace Windu married Bail and Breha Organa.

They let all those celebrations of love lure them into a dangerous sentiment of safety. It was quite a shock when a Rhodian tried to stab Satine, during the ceremony of Garen Muln’s wedding.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan snarled, his knee on the back of the would-be assassin, his lightsaber, turned off, just pressing against the Rhodian’s neck as a very successful warning to stay down, “We’re going back to Mandalore. I’m going to handle those factions myself.”

     In most people’s minds, dangerous beings are supposed to dress in black and lurk in the shadows. An exotic name/past/dead lover whose soul need revenge and / or an interesting scar help.

Obi-Wan Kenobi fit none of those criteria. Force Healing and bacta had stopped the multiple wounds of his past to scar. He was happily married, and not mourning a long dead princess/stripper with a heart of god/ childhood sweetheart for who he had sworn to clean up the world, as classical romance holodramas tropes demanded. Obi-Wan was the most common first name on Stewjon for a male human of his generation, and Kenobi the third most common last name of the archipelago in the Northern hemisphere of Stewjon where he had been born. He left the black to Anakin, preferring traditional Jedi colours, or more and more, Kryze colours, all blue and grey. His past wasn’t more exotic than any other Jedi, and for lurking in the shadows, he wasn’t a drama queen like Xanatos, may the Force have misery of his soul, had been.

So, Obi-Wan looked mild mannered most of the time, and exasperated by the world’s attics the rest of it.

He didn’t look dangerous, or perhaps just for people’s pants when he went full flirting in the name of the mission. But not dangerous, could remove limbs at the smallest provocation, dangerous.

Which definitely prove people shouldn’t be judged on their appearance, because Obi-Wan was probably the most dangerous Jedi.

Oh, he wasn’t as powerful as Anakin in sheer puissance. He wasn’t as skilled with a lightsaber as Master Windu. Not as apt to mind manipulation as Master Mundi, or as good in diplomacy as Master Gallia.

But he was good, very good at all those things, and it was because he was powerful and at the same time pretty good with a lightsaber and pretty good with mind tricks and so good in negotiations they gave his name to some new ideas in that field, that he was the most dangerous.

Also, he reached a point, sometimes, when he was out of fuck to give and just broke things in his path until he reached his goal, no matters the collateral damages.

Mace blamed Qui-Gon. The man had been a horrible influence and a young Jedi could only spent so much of his formative years using ruffians’ methods and horrifying protocol officers before bad habits took hold.

This is why Mace wasn’t surprised when, a month after his weeding, he was woken up by his private communicator. Extracting himself from his spouses’ arms was quite a challenge: Bail was quite the octopus in bed, and Breha liked to use his shoulder as a pillow. He was forced to cheat and to use the Force to be sure they continued to sleep. Ruling a planet was a challenge, when you wanted to do it well, and marrying the Master of the Jedi Order had only put more problems on the Organa’s plate: they needed all the sleep they could have.

“Skywalker?” Mace asked, once he was out of the bedroom.

“Oh, I forgot about the difference of hours with the capital of Alderann, sorry Master” Anakin said when he saw he was shirtless. Even in the blue of the holograms, Mace could see him blushing. The younger Jedi had been married for years, what did he expect exactly, Mace sleeping in full Council regalia?

“Now that I’m awake, tell me why you called.”

“I’m so sorry, Master!”

“Anakin!!”

“Hem,yeh, hem, it’s about Obi-Wan, Master.”

“Force, did something happen to him? Why didn’t you start with that?”

“No, no, he’s fine, totally, I mean physically. Not that I think he isn’t fine mentally!?”

“Skywalker! If you don’t start telling me why you called, I’m going back to bed. What happened to Obi-Wan?”

“Nothing happened to him. It’s more that he’s the one happening to people, Master.”

Mace pinched the skin between his eyes. He had a better relationship with Skywalker now, no that the bar was very high before, but that didn’t mean being waken up in the middle of the night by a hysterical Chosen One who didn’t make sense was a pleasant experience. In the Amidala-Skywalker household, the Senator was definitely his favourite.

“Start at the beginning.”

“People are trying to kill the Duchess.”

“Not to sound blasé at the idea of murder, but people have been trying to kill the Duchess for longer that you have been alive. Most of them are dead, and she’s still ruling Mandalore. And probably half the Neutral Systems underhand. And she would rule half the Republic if she didn’t fear it would annoy Obi-Wan. My money is on her.”

“I know, but I think Obi-Wan has reached a tipping point! He crashed a ship on a Death Watch’ stronghold on an abandoned moon. It was evacuated, but you could still see the fire from the other end of the solar system! He cut three arms this week! He made four Judicials officers and the Education Minister cry yesterday! Even Bo-Katan thinks he’s perhaps going a little strong and I spent three months stopping her from decapitating people in public as an interrogation technique! Master, I’m very bad at being the voice of reason, I don’t know how he did it all these years. And the Duchess seems to think it’s all fun and game and he’s in control, only I’m not so sure and if he kills someone accidentally, pretty sure they will get divorced and he will be infinitely sad. Please, come to Mandalore, Master Windu, you’re my only hope!”

  ****

That morning, Obi-Wan woke up way later than he had planned to. He searched, still half asleep for the chrono on the bedside table, because there was way too much light in their bedroom for really be the time before the damn thing was supposed to woke him up, and discovered it had been totally disconnected.

Surprised, he tried to roll over, but couldn’t, because someone had tied his other wrist to the head board with a long silk scarf. His first reflex was to tear the thing down, and only the colour stopped him. It was Satine’s colour, and he was in their bedroom, so the culprit was probably not another Death Watch murderer.

He half-turned and here she was, in a chair in a corner of their bedroom, in that long dress of lace almost totally transparent that had made him cross his eyes the first time he had seen her in it.

“Not very prudent tying down a Jedi during his sleep,” he remarked.

“Even if your sleep, you know I’m not a danger,” she answered and he gave her a little nod. He liked that. That despite his nightmares and the hair trigger and the PTSD, his subconscious would let her tie him down. That even that part of him knew he was hers, that everything she wanted to give her, he would take it, and that everything he was she could take and use, and he wouldn’t fear, because he was hers, hers only, and Satine always took care of what was hers.  

Satine stood up and made her way along the bed, her gaze a pleasant weight on his skin, then the lace dress was abandoned on the floor and she knelt across his legs.

“The Death Watch,” he said, because she was beautiful and he adored her, but the sun was high in the sky, and he needed to go and make sure she was safe:

“It is handled,” the Duchess, “And now, I just want to hear Yes, or Stop.”

The answer was easy and the untied hand of Obi-Wan went to join the other one obediently on the head board.

Satine said it was handled, and too contradict her wasn’t in Obi-Wan’s power, here, in the safety and warmth of their bed. Not when she was there, the light of her eyes burning every dark thought and doubt.

Satine had said it was handled, so he could let go into her arms.

“Yes,” he said, arching up against her and she smiled at him and leaned down, pressing his wrists against the mattress in an order for staying there and everything else disappeared around them.

 *****************

Let’s observe some nameless Death Watch goon. He was middle aged, with beautiful blue eyes, currently covered by his helmet. Good people don’t have the privilege of beautiful eyes, certainly a sad genetic problem in the human species.  He had been a sweet child, a faithful friend, and if his parents had been dead for years, he scrupulously visited his aging grandfather.

With different choices, he could even have been considered a good man. But the current situation was that he had made the wrong choice, and then the wrong one again and again and again. The current situation was that he imagined himself for superior, for horrible reasons that could be resumed to the fact that he considered himself entitled to more than other people, and for less efforts.

Greed was the seed of our nameless Death Watch goon’s fate.

So, as he opened the door of another Death Watch’s stronghold, not to go and do evil, but simply for a supply run, nobody in the galaxy should feel sorry for nameless Death Watch goon, as he suddenly felt against his neck the shining blade of a purple lightsaber.

“I have questions,” the man on the other end of the lightsaber said, “And you will answer them.”

“Death to the Jedi!” the nameless Death Watch goon immediately yelled, activating the self-destruct of his pack. Suicide in case of capture had never really been his plan, but to be known in the Death Watch history as the man taking down Mace Windu himself, such things could be supportable.

Sadly for the Death Watch, but to the Republic’s relief, the charge didn’t explode to kill the Master of the Order, no, the buckles on the goon’s torso opened themselves violently and the suicide bomb threw itself far enough than only a whisper of his power passed on them. Mace Windu hadn’t moved a finger, because apparently fear for their lives was a thing that happened to other people. The goon jumped two feet in the air at the voice behind him.

“Like he said, we have questions,” Anakin Skywalker smiled with too much teeth.

“And some official protestations,” a green Nautolean Jedi said behind the Chosen One.

“We heard you weren’t nice to our brother,” a human Jedi in pilots suits added.

“And since the war is done, we have more time for individual planets problems,” a smaller Moon Calamari Jedi said.

“So, we’ve come to kick your ass,” a Kiffar one finished, and he gave our nameless goon a smile even more terrifying than Skywalker.

  ****

Here they were, again,

In the Temple, in the Room of the Thousand Fountains, just the three of them sitting down at the feet of one of the biggest tree, observing people. But the atmosphere was so different from one year ago, when Obi-Wan had been lost between his love for Satine and his anger at the violence the Senate inflicted on them in forcing Jedi to marry. One year ago, they still had been reeling from the war, still hesitant in their footing in a galaxy where not everyone wanted to kill them. One year ago, Ahsoka was still unsure of her place in the Jedi Order, which she had only joined again when she had understood Palpatine had organized her fall to isolate Anakin a little more. One year ago, Anakin was still angry, lost between the reality of Palpatine’s machinations and years of habits to blame others, especially the Order, for the universe’s problems.

Today, they were in the Temple for a celebration: a little less year after her sister, Bo-Katan was marrying a Jedi too. Somewhere in the Mandalore’s necropolis the two sisters’ fierce-Jedi-hating ancestors, were probably spinning in their graves fast enough to power a small turbine….

Today, there had been no pressure, no hesitation: the law, if not repelled yet, had been buried by the new Chancellor under enough red tapes to protect the Jedi until he could definitely kill it.

No, Bo-Katan had come to the Jedi Temple only for the smile of Bant, because her Moon Calamari lover would live on Mandalore now, and the young Mandalorian had found fair to marry then in Bant’s home.

Today, Obi-Wan was wearing House Kryze’s colours, like he was doing more and more, and slightly tipsy on sparkling wine. His gaze searched regularly Satine, busy cornering a poor politician about the Force only knew what, without shame. And every time, like she knew he was looking, she let her victim a few seconds respite to turn and smile at her husband.

Anakin himself was more than slightly tipsy. Padme had left just after the ceremony for Naboo with their children, where he was supposed to join them the next day, and he had celebrated a little too much the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be a role model in that moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a role model to me too?” A very amused Ahsoka had asked, at the third cup of wine.

“Nah, it’s been long since I had anything left to teach you, Snips.”

Ahsoka raised up from her crouch against the tree. The flowers adorning her montrals had slipped way off their careful arrangement, giving her a strange dishevelled air, even without hair.

“Then why didn’t you present me to trial?” She protested. Between them, Obi-Wan smothered a giggle. He remembered quite well a teenage Anakin, his voice still craking down sometimes from puberty, with exactly the same question, the question outraged Padawan believing themselves ready had asked since the dawn of the Order. Obi-Wan himself hadn’t asked, but Obi-Wan had known he wasn’t ready. Despite what Qui-Gon had told the Council.

“Because then, you would go on missions alone,” Anakin protested, “And you could be hurt.”

“You threw me at a Death Watch Death Squad the other day. Threw me! Like a missile!” She retorted.

“And I knew you would kick their asses. And you did!”

“And you think I would do different if you’re not there to watch? You didn’t help! You just gave points to their efforts to escape me.”

“Well, some of them made a good effort. Even if they failed, efforts should be recognized.”

“It doesn’t-“

It was the laugh that stopped their bickering. A full-bodied, irrepressible laugh. It was simply a laugh, but it was Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan who took his boots off before climbing on an exam table when he had taken a blaster shot to the belly, Obi-Wan who never let more than a small dry laugh escape his lips, because it wouldn’t be proper, or conform to what he believed proper Jedi decorum should be. Obi-Wan was laughing, grinning like a loon, without a care in the world, shoulders shaking with the force of it.

“Master?” Anakin asked, then he squeaked when the other man pulled him closer with an arm around his shoulders, doing the same to Ahsoka with the other arm.

“Master?” the young Tortuga asked in turn.

“We made it,” Obi-Wan said, his face hidden his Anakin’s hair, “We made it.”

And there was such relief in his words. Anakin’s surprise face eased and he put an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist, another around Ashoka, who did the same. He wasn’t exactly surprised. The Death Watch and the attempts on Satine’s life had simply delay the crisis in Obi-Wan, a crisis Ahsoka herself had cried on Anakin’s shoulder and Anakin in Padmé’s arms, a crisis every other Jedi had to confront a day.

“We did it,” he confirmed, his voice comforting and easy, “We did it and you can let go, Obi-Wan. We’re safe, all of us, now.”

And, hiding their Master between them, Ahsoka and Anakin let him laugh and cry.

In a few minutes, Anakin would go fetch Satine, and she would help Obi-Wan find a path for the rest of his life, but for now.

For now, just the three of them, their lineage, their family, was enough.

[fuzziekins]

It used to be so easy for Marianna. If only she could go back to that time….

She was open. From a young age she knew she was ‘different’. She didn’t experience crushes like her classmates. When asked who she likes or thought was cute Marianna would say she didn’t like anyone and proceeded to make up a silly story about someone. Everyone seemed to enjoy that. And, although she didn’t have the word for it at the time, no one seemed to mind or care.

She was confident. She knew what she was good at and unafraid to hide it. Math? Her hand always went right up. Basketball? Even if she wasn’t very tall she could speed past her opponent without a problem.

She was comfortable. Marianna was who she was. She felt there was no need to change nor would she want to. There was hardly, if ever, a need to lie about anything or cover something up. When everyone else was trying to fit in or give into peer pressure Marianna would never follow the crowd.

She had talked to her friends about bottled emotions before. For the most part she assumed it to be a lie. Or perhaps an exaggeration. When one friend spoke about saving up to buy some courage to talk to his crush, Marianna attempted to talk him out of it. She said he didn’t need to buy it; it was inside of him all along. A couple of weeks later her friend strutted right up to the crush, tapped them on the shoulder and said he liked them. It was such a drastic change from the shy, sensitive, pessimistic guy she knew.

Marianna continued to see such instances over the years.

In college she met a premed student who was miserable. They didn’t want to be a doctor, rather an engineer. A few days later they practically danced into class, overjoyed to be in the medical field.

At her first job after college Marianna had a boss who was preparing to be a father. Surprisingly he wasn’t nervous at all. That in turn made his wife more afraid. The boss couldn’t understand why; he wished so badly he could relate to her. Instead of therapy, the boss went out and bought some fear. He became as freaked out about his wife - even about the labor.

The older she got the more she saw people relying on these emotions. Surely though, they weren’t real. They were forced. Not genuine. It was like all of these people were lying. They were giving up a part of themselves. Marianna swore she would never be like that. That she’d never resort to it.

That is, until her mother passed away. 

It came out of nowhere. No one could have predicted it. Maybe that was why it hit her so hard. Maybe that was why she felt so broken. Maybe that was why she gave up. She couldn’t focus on her job. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to anyone. She barely left the house. How could this happen now? She was still so young. So inexperienced. How was she supposed to continue living without her mother? The one person that was always there. Who encouraged and supported her. That she could talk to about everything.

A few months passed since the funeral. A distant cousin came to check on Marianna. She knew something was wrong. That Marianna couldn’t go on that way. This cousin, too, had gone through a devastating loss. She recommended the bottled emotions. Supposedly it was the happiness she bought that got her through, until she found real happiness. Before, Marianna wouldn’t have thought twice about it. But now? Truly, what did she have left to lose?

So she went to the mall, the nearest location that sold those things. Emotion Potions, the store was called. How uncreative. She arrived early, shortly after the store opened so there were no crowds.

“Good morning,” the pleasant saleswoman greeted. “What can I help you feel today?”

She sounded genuine, but somehow it still felt so fake.

“I…I don’t know,” Marianna confessed softly.

The associate pursed her lips, pausing. “Hmm…you seem like you could use some happiness. I can offer you a trial size for half off. Try it for the week.”

Marianna shook her head solemnly. “I don’t think anything can make me happy right now.”

“Don’t worry, you don’t need happiness specifically,” she promised. “We have plenty of options that can lead to happiness. I’ve got some motivation that can get you up and going in no time. Or, if you’re more of a creative person, we have a sale on inspiration this month. It’s a bogo!”

It remained unappealing.

The woman clicked her tongue. “You’ve got it pretty bad, don’t you?”

“I mean…. I just lost my mom. So….” Marianna confessed.

“Oh! I’m so sorry to hear that!” the associate gasped. “I didn’t realize it was that traumatic. If I had known…”

“It’s fine. You couldn’t have known,” Marianna sighed.

The blonde leaned up against one of the displays. “Do you want to talk about it? It’s ok if you don’t. But I’m not exactly busy right now.”

Marianna shook her head. “I don’t know,” she admitted softly. “I guess….” She paused. Was she really going to talk to this stranger? Let everything out? Sure she…whatever her name was…seemed understanding. But did she really care? Would it be worth to actually share with someone? Marianna shifted her gaze to the name tag. Eloise. Her stare was unchanging. Marianna took another glance at the woman. Eloise had her head tilted, flecks of concern twinkling in her eyes. Maybe…. What harm could it really do? What else did Marianna have to lose at this rate?

“It happened so quickly. We were in the store…. I went to another section for two minutes….” She hesitated and looked down, arms folded across her chest. “Then…I heard a scream. I ran back and…and she was down. Surrounded by people. And….” She shook her head. “And it was too late.

Eloise grasped her chest, hand hovering over her heart. “I’m so sorry…. I couldn’t even imagine…. That’s definitely an experience.”

“That’s one word, I suppose,” Marianna sighed.

“And your family? Are they…?” the blonde wondered.

Marianna shook her head. “Some distant relatives. They’re scattered. But…it was just her.”

Another pause ensued.

Eloise let out a breath, muttering to herself. “I picked a good day for some empathy.”

Marianna glanced up. “What was that?”

The employee blinked. “Oh don’t worry about me! I’m just talking to myself. You have a lot more on your plate.”

Any other day, any other time, Marianna’s suspicions would have risen. Today? Let alone recently? She just didn’t care anymore. “Oh….”

Eloise licked her lips, her bright nails lightly tapping against the table. “You know what?” she spoke after a minute. “I’m going to find something for you. On the house.”

“You don’t have to…” she started.

Eloise held up a hand. “I insist. And I’m even going to give you my card and a coupon. If what I give you helps, come back any time. Use my name. I’d be a fool to let you continue on this way. I want to help.” She signaled Marianna to follow her to the back. Extra storage, no doubt. Surely that proved to be an understatement. There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of bottles. It wasn’t until that moment Marianna realized why others relied so much on this method. Maybe, just maybe, there was something to it after all?

“So!” Eloise’s voice broke through Marianna’s thoughts. The blonde was already climbing a ladder, looking through the stash. “Tell me a little more. Please. Are you back at work? Can I get you a pinch of focus for it?”

“No, I…no I’m not,” she sighed.

Eloise nodded and relocated to another shelf. “Do you have any close friends? I’ve got some extra courage around, if you need help talking to them.”

“I’d rather not/ They have their own problems. Kids and families and all…” Marianna answered.

“And you? Do you have a partner to lean on?” Eloise inquired.

At that, even Marianna couldn’t fight back her typical reaction. “Please. I’m aro. And anyway, boys have cooties and girls are catty.”

“Well you’re not wrong,” Eloise shrugged. She continued shifting through the bottles until she came to a halt. She blinked, tilting her head to glance at the customer below her. “Wait…you’re aro?”

Marianna groaned. “Yes. It’s a word. An actual thing.”

To that, her eyes widened. “Of course! It’s perfect!”

For once, a distracting response. Marianna blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

Eloise jumped down. “Aromantic! Of course! Why didn’t I realize?” She pushed the ladder, leapt onto one of the steps and rode it down the aisle. Once she stopped, she climbed to one of the top shelves.

Marianna put her hands on her hips. “If you got a problem with it…”

“I don’t!” Eloise called. She continued while moving some jars out of the way. “Aros don’t feel romantic love right? But the love they feel for everyone else in their life is so powerful they don’t need romance! If your mom was your best friend and the person you shared all that love with, then you have a void. What’s all that love good for if you don’t have anyone to share it with?”

“So what, you’re gonna give me a love potion?” Marianna asked doubtfully.

“No,” the employee scoffed. She jumped down and returned to her client. “As if! This is a romantic feeling. Specifically, attraction.”

Marianna took a step back. “Wait…are you trying to change me? You can’t just take my orientation away!”

“Attraction affects everyone differently. Just like how people can show happiness or sadness differently,” Eloise explained. “All this is gonna do is let you redirect that love you lost to someone else. It’s meant to help you get through this hardest time. It’s not going to replace or get rid of anyone or anything.”

“And how would you know?” Marianna questioned with disbelief. 

There was a moment of silence. Still, Eloise’s face remained the same. Comfortable. In so few words she seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. Then, with a gentle stare, she offered the bottle to Marianna.

“You don’t have to take my word for it. You can try it or you can dump it. Either way, it’s yours now. And I really hope you can find what you’re looking for.”

Marianna stared at her. She looked at the bottle, taking in its appearance. It looked like a regular perfume bottle. The liquid inside was salmon colored. There was a faint aura surrounding it…maybe a scent of lavender? Marianna couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She tapped her fingers lightly against the glass and, when she looked up, Eloise was gone. Marianna’s hazel eyes skimmed the storage room. It was just her.

Her gaze returned to the attraction. Curious, she twisted the cover. A nozzle was revealed underneath. Was it a spray? Did it work like perfume? Or did she work it like a can of whipped cream? She tilted her head. Marianna did often rely on her mother a lot…. When she had no one else, she still had her mom. She didn’t realize how empty she could feel otherwise. How alone.

Was Eloise right? Was it really a replacement, albeit a temporary one? Would it really not change who Marianna was? Would it help? Would this pain, this hole, be fixed that quickly? And then she could move on with her life? It sure seemed to work for everyone else so far. Could it have been possible they were right all along? That Marianna was the one missing something?

There was only one way to find out.