#like if obi-wan ever had to wear anakins white and cream look | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

glimmerglanger · 4 years

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So I’ve been plagued by this since I read mirror AU. For your spice week, how would you feel about obikin sex with an audience? Can be purely for pleasure or a ritual thing or an accident, but like, thinking of Anakin staking a claim in front of Cody in agaptfaa may have awoken something in me? Ditto prime Anakin and mirror Anakin with either Obi-Wan. I know Obes would think it riduculous/primitive but maybe find it hot anyway?

Anonymous said:

hmm this isn’t particularly spicy on its own but it can be added to a spicy september fic? like ur prompts are the ice cream and this ask is the extra toppings haha. but like obi wan’s pale skin being marked up with finger shaped bruises and hickeys and his own flush? bonus points if he’s ‘pleasantly sore’ 🥺

Mmmmm, I like these ideas very, very much! I went with ritual sex with an audience because I’m legitimately so, so weak for that. Marking ended up fitting in very well with this particular plot bunny. Hey, if we’re staking a claim…. No reason for half measures. Established relationship set during the Clone Wars (close to the end, with Anakin’s mental state being frayed).

This is NOT SAFE FOR WIZARDS. No real warnings beyond that. We’ve wrapped up Spicy September Week with this fic! I hope you all enjoyed it! Thanks for all the wonderful prompts! I’ll be posting all the fics over on ao3 to make sure they don’t get lost etc. Hope everyone has a great rest of the week, time for me to get back to prepping for Whumptober!

~~~~~~~

They landed on Tuls on a clear, cool morning, with frost across the ground. Technically, Anakin wasn’t even supposed to be on the mission, but he’d been working with the 212th when Obi-Wan’s orders came through and…

Well. They’d had enough things go wrong for Jedi sent on solo missions from the Senate. He’d decided he ought to tag along, and Obi-Wan hadn’t protested. They’d even had some time to sleep, on the flight to Tuls. Anakin had hoped they might have time for a bit more than sleep, but Obi-Wan had still been recovering from...whatever the kriff had happened to him over Raydonia.

Anakin took one look at the fading bruises all down his ribs, and lost the urge to press the issue. It was more than enough to hold Obi-Wan close while they slept, to pour healing energy down into his skin, hoping to ease as much of the damage as he could.

By the time they arrived on Tuls, most of the marks had faded away. Obi-Wan had stretched that morning, when he woke, and looked down at his side with a surprise written all over his expression. “Feeling better?” Anakin had asked, dropping a kiss against his ribs, and Obi-Wan had smiled at him, looking soft and still mussed from sleep.

But that had been earlier, when it was just them. Obi-Wan looked nothing but professional as they set foot on Tuls soil, met by an entire delegation of tired, stooped humanoids, who looked at them and said, “Thank goodness you have finally arrived, Jedi. There is no longer much time.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said, after the Tuls delegation had hurried them along, out of the cold and into a finally appointed meeting chamber. There was a fire crackling in a large hearth along one wall, which was a relief. There was a bitter chill in the air, which seemed odd. Anakin was almost sure Obi-Wan had said that it was supposed to be late spring on the planet. “I was not informed we were on a time-table, but you mentioned--”

“We are very late to bring the spring,” an older man said, rising heavily from a chair by the fire. He was solidly built - Anakin guessed he’d probably been all muscle, once. Time had added a healthy girth around his waist. He wore a crown of dark stone cut through with pale lines.

Obi-Wan glanced at Anakin, and Anakin shrugged. Obi-Wan looked back at the man and said, “And you… require our help, to bring the spring?”

The man nodded. He said, “Forgive my manners. I am King Urtus. And, yes. We need your help, specifically, Master Jedi.” Anakin could feel the relief radiating off of all of these people, even as their leader spoke.

“Ah,” Obi-Wan said, shifting around, loosening his shoulders in a little movement that Anakin wasn’t sure anyone else would identify as the first step towards a fight. “May I ask why? I’ve not heard of such assistance being required before.”

Urtus grimaced, looked to the side, and spat into the fire. “We did not need outside assistance. Not before the Separatist attacked us. The Keeper of Seasons was killed in the attack. Her apprentice…” He gestured to a boy standing to one side; the kid looked to be in his early teens. “Is not yet of age to bring the spring.”

“I think…” Obi-Wan said, as a creeping feeling ran down Anakin’s back, “that you ought to tell us, exactly, how one brings the spring, here on Tuls.”

“Are you serious?” Anakin said, after Urtus finished explaining exactly what it was they wanted Obi-Wan to do. He felt a prickle across his shoulders as everyone in the room turned to look at him, including Obi-Wan, who raised an eyebrow for good measure.

“We are quite serious,” Urtus said, as though he had not just suggested that - that Obi-Wan come down to some - some kind of ritual chamber and take off all his clothes and--

“Getting kr -- engaging in intercourse doesn’t make the seasons change,” Anakin said, feeling his cheeks getting far too warm. He, abruptly, didn’t like the way any of the people in the room were looking at Obi-Wan.

Urtus shrugged. “It ever has on Tuls,” he said.

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, hoping for support on how mad the entire suggestion was. He got a shrug, instead, and a thoughtful look, as Obi-Wan said, “I can feel the Force flowing through the core of this world. It is possible the seasons have become tied to… rituals, of a sort. And carnal relations are often tied to the advent of spring.”

Sometimes Anakin wanted to shake him. Not everything had to be a science project.

Urtus cleared his throat, before Anakin could point out that now was not the time to get curious about the ecosystem of some new world. “Please,” Urtus said. “It should be nearly summer now. We beg for your assistance with this matter.”

“Why does this have to be Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, shifting to put himself between them and Obi-Wan, just in case they got grabby.

“We can feel his connection to the Force,” Urtus said, straightening and meeting Anakin’s gaze for the first time. “The planet responds to him, already.” Anakin figured he’d have to take Urtus’ word for that.

And Anakin knew damn well there was no way Obi-Wan was actually going to decline. He’d be full of concern about the fate of the planet and the safety of these people and if it meant him getting fucked on an altar to set things to rights, then so be it. So, it wasn’t much of a surprise when Obi-Wan said, “Of course, I will assist in any way I can.”

Urtus sagged with relief. Anakin felt the emotion vibrating through the rest of the crowd, and fine, he supposed they could make this work. He could help and they’d just get this over with, and-- Urtus said, “We will prepare you and arrange the melee immediately, then.”

The back of Anakin’s neck prickled, even as Obi-Wan asked, “Melee?”

Urtus nodded. “Indeed. To determine who shall have the right to assist you. So you may remove winter’s veil and bring the spring.”

Anakin tightened his grip on Obi-Wan’s arm; he felt Obi-Wan’s emotions shift, some hint of worry entering his feelings for the first time. None of it came through in Obi-Wan’s tone when he said, “Surely, I select who has the...right?”

Urtus shook his heavy head, making a deep humming sound. “No. It must be whoever is touched most deeply by winter, as decided by the Force,” he said, “it has ever been thus.”

Anakin looked over the crowd in the room. He really disliked the way they were eying Obi-Wan, and wondered, if he picked Obi-Wan up and bolted, what his odds were of getting to the ship. Probably not high, if Obi-Wan decided to fight him. Which he almost certainly would.

Anakin blew out a breath, instead, and said, “Is anyone allowed to join this melee, then?” Because, kriff, if it was a fight they wanted… Well. He was more than happy to give it to them.

In the end, the Tuls were agreeable to the idea of Anakin joining the melee. He had no idea what they meant by ‘touched by winter’ and he didn’t really care. He was taken to a chamber to prepare with all the rest of the entrants, while Obi-Wan was spirited off elsewhere. They were only to use weapons with blunted edges, apparently, but that was fine. Anakin had long ago learned how to fight with whatever was to hand.

He cracked his neck side to side, selected a weapon that fitted his hand, and waited, ignoring the chatter around the rest of the room.

It seemed to take an age and a half before the doors were opened again and they were led out, across a frozen expanse of ground, and into a small entryway, directly into the earth. It was dark inside, and warmer. There were steps, leading down, and Anakin followed the figure in front of him, flexing his fingers in and out until they, finally, reached the bottom.

They were… in a large, open space, ringed with seats stretching upward, many of them filled. The walls glowed, faintly. Anakin barely noticed any of that, because, in the center of the… well, the arena, there was a familiar figure.

Someone had taken Obi-Wan’s tunics and left him wearing…pieces of white fabric, tied in bands around his body. His eyes and mouth were both wrapped. There were more bindings around his arms and hands. He was standing in front of a tall lump of stone. Anakin assumed, with a hot lurch of his gut, that this was the altar.

Which meant the Tuls fully expected someone to fuck Obi-Wan right there in the center of this arena and, well. There was no way Anakin was going to let anyone else touch him. He took a breath, adjusted his grip on his weapon, and waited while Urtus made some kind of speech that he didn’t care about.

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting for the moment when the melee started, and then springing into action. The Tuls were determined, he had to give them that. And they seemed to have decided that they didn’t actually care who won the right, as long as it wasn’t him.

They swarmed him, and Anakin snarled. Even with numbers, they were not a match, and he knew it. They had not a fraction of the practice and experience he’d gained, and he knocked them aside, one after another.

One almost cracked him over the back of the head with a cudgel, only to slip on nothing a moment before the blow could land, falling into one of his fellows, instead, and Anakin half-laughed at the feeling of Obi-Wan’s presence against his skin.

The Tuls woman in front of him balked at his laughter, and Anakin took the opportunity to elbow her in the gut, listening to the sound she made as she folded up, flinging himself back into the fight. There was no real strategy to it, it was nothing but a brawl, fierce and vicious, devolving, finally, into a bare knuckled scrap between the last contenders.

Anakin had something of an advantage in that area, and grinned fiercely at the sound his fist made hitting the jaw of the last Tuls standing between him and Obi-Wan. The man had a half a head of height on Anakin, but went over backwards with a satisfying thump.

Anakin stood, for a moment, in the midst of the groaning fallen, breathing hard. His clothes were torn and bloody, he noted. He throbbed from a dozen different places, wounds aching. He tasted copper on his tongue and turned his head to the side, spitting, even as drums started around the room.

He distantly remembered being told about the drums, and grinned, because they meant he’d won.

He met Urtus’ eyes across the arena, nodded, and stalked towards the center of the space. Obi-Wan hadn’t moved, standing there still as a statue. There were, Anakin noticed, as he got closer, clothes wrapped around his knees and ankles, too. His feet were bare on the stone and there were strange tendrils of light winding away from him, out through the stone.

Anakin decided he didn’t care about the light, right at that moment. His blood burned in his veins, his gut full of fire from the battle. He was already hard, when he stopped in front of Obi-Wan and reached out, grabbing the wrap around his eyes and pulling it away.

Obi-Wan blinked open his eyes, so clear and blue, and did not look surprised to find Anakin before him. Anakin grabbed the wrap over his mouth, hoping he was doing an adequate job removing winter’s veil, and Obi-Wan said, quietly, something tense in his expression, just for a moment, “I knew it would be you.”

Anakin shivered and could not stop himself from sliding a hand back into Obi-Wan’s hair and leaning closer, kissing his mouth, aware he was leaving smears of blood behind and - and liking it, liking the way it marked Obi-Wan’s clean, perfect skin. “I think I had some help,” he murmured, against Obi-Wan’s mouth, and felt Obi-Wan smile.

“Maybe a little,” Obi-Wan agreed, and Anakin kissed him again, pleased to know it had been him Obi-Wan wanted with him, here in the middle of an arena, here at this crude altar.

It made his pulse beat faster, instructions for what he was supposed to do jumbling together in his head. The Tuls had been specific about some things, but it was hard to focus on what they’d wanted. He’d needed to - to take Obi-Wan out of these bindings, definitely.

Anakin could do that, He kept one hand in Obi-Wan’s hair, aware of all the eyes on them. He expected a prickle of anxiety across his nerves, he even anticipated, in a flash of worry, that he would not be able to maintain his current state of interest, not while knowing so many people were watching.

But these people had thought they could have Obi-Wan. Thought they could just use him for their ritual. And he, abruptly, quite liked the idea of showing them all just how wrong they were. He slid his mouth to Obi-Wan’s neck, nipping at the skin and then sucking, hearing Obi-Wan make a loud, surprised sound.

He slid his other hand down, tearing at the white wrappings, careless and rough. He just wanted them off.

“The altar,” Obi-Wan ground out, his hands freed to come up, to grip at Anakin, pulling him closer. “We need to--the stone is Force-reactive, we need to be on--”

Anakin got the idea. The altar was the size of a large table, rising directly out of the floor. It came up to his thighs, he noted, even as he pulled the last of the wrappings away, grabbed Obi-Wan’s thighs, and lifted him.

The stone lit up beneath Obi-Wan, when Anakin turned and put him down on the altar. Veins of color shot through it, so bright they were almost blinding. A murmur went up through the crowd, relief and joy, but Anakin barely noted it.

Obi-Wan lit up, as well, and that was far more interesting. Trails of light stretched under his skin, glowing. He looked like something out of a dream, something magical. But then, he always had. Anakin groaned and crawled onto the altar, falling forward to kiss him, hands all over his skin, warm and soft and perfect.

He left behind smears of blood, marks that showed where he’d touched, and groaned at the sight of it. Everyone on Tuls had wanted Obi-Wan, but he was the only one who got to have this, the only one who got to touch, and he wanted, suddenly and fiercely, for them all to know it.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan panted, tugging at the closures on Anakin’s tunics. They were hanging off of him already, and Anakin yanked the outer tunic off, tossing it aside. He cared little about the under tunic; it wasn’t in his way. He slid a hand down, curled his fingers around Obi-Wan’s cock, and watched the light beneath him shift, spreading away from the altar, out across the arena.

Obi-Wan’s hands clenched at his belt. He made a sound, thick and pleasure-drunk, as Anakin stroked him, setting a fast, brutal pace. He had not patience within him, at the moment, he just wanted. Wanted to watch Obi-Wan’s eyes flutter, wanted everyone in the arena to see what he got to do.

He bent forward, kissing Obi-Wan deep and filthy, the drums pounding around them, almost drowning out the sound Obi-Wan made when he spilled all over Anakin’s fingers.

“Force,” Obi-Wan panted, and Anakin grinned, rubbing his fingers together and considering. They’d not given him anything to ease the way. He shrugged, decided to make do, and slid his fingers back, between Obi-Wan’s legs.

He found Obi-Wan slick already, slick enough to slide two fingers in at once, and the revelation punched a groan out of him. “I thought,” Obi-wan gasped, deliciously flushed and glowing, “I’d better, ah, be ready.”

Anakin nodded. He felt quite beyond words, aching with so much want it felt hard to think. He wanted, so badly, to stretch out over Obi-Wan like this, to touch his glowing skin and let all the Tuls see how good he could make Obi-Wan feel, show them his beauty, the light of him--

The Tuls had warned them both that they might be...affected by the ritual. Anakin was willing to blame the hot jump of his pulse on whatever the kriff the Force was currently doing, whatever was making Obi-Wan light up, the glow off of his skin chasing away all the shadows in Anakin’s head, leaving him… singularly focused.

The urge to make everyone see swallowed him. Anakin took another kiss, hard, and then rocked onto his heels, batting Obi-Wan’s hands away - he’d gotten Anakin’s slacks open, that was more than good enough - and gripped at Obi-Wan’s hip.

Obi-Wan made a thick sound, surprised, when Anakin dragged his fingers out. His gasped beautifully, his skin all aglow, brighter spots of light at his freckles. Anakin ran a hand over his chest, awed, and then settled his hands, pulling Obi-Wan’s hips just so, gripping tight.

He heard the sound Obi-Wan made over the drums when he pushed in. Around them, the light started picking up colors, purples and pinks and blues, greens, spreading around the room, spreading across Obi-Wan’s skin, like an aurora, a celestial event, right in front of him.

Anakin jolted at the feeling of being in him. It was always amazing; he could have happily fucked Obi-Wan for the rest of his life, but-- Sinking into him on the altar felt like something else, the sensation spreading out to each nerve, clearing his head, leaving nothing but want and need and desire behind.

Anakin needed to fuck him, needed to drive into him, needing to make him gasp and cry out. Anakin gripped him, hard, keeping a hold on him, knowing he was leaving marks behind and - and liking it. He wanted marks, his marks, all over Obi-Wan’s skin, wanted everyone on Tuls and all the other worlds in the galaxy to know that Obi-Wan was--

Obi-Wan’s trembled, light spreading out from him, through the stone, the colors getting brighter, sharper. And Anakin wanted everyone to see, deeply. Force, he loved the way Obi-Wan looked when he was getting fucked, loved the way Obi-Wan’s mouth got soft, the way he flushed all across his cheeks and down his throat.

Every inch of him was beautiful, and Anakin groaned, driving into him as the light curled and flowed around them. He wished he had another hand, to curl around Obi-Wan’s cock, and in that moment saw no reason not to utilize the Force.

Obi-Wan jerked, full-bodied, when Anakin curled tendrils of the Force against his skin, pressure and sensation. Anakin thought he heard his name - it was hard to tell, the drums had gotten louder and his blood was pounding in his ears - and he took it as encouragement.

It felt like encouragement, through Obi-Wan’s emotions, overspilling into Anakin’s head.

He touched and touched and groaned when he felt Obi-Wan quake, come spilling across their skin and the altar and--and something shifted in the air around them, in the presence of the Force through the room. Anakin felt like lightning grounded down through his spine, pleasure and primal want swimming up through him.

He lost himself, for a moment, aware of nothing but pleasure, but needing to fuck into Obi-Wan, desperately, but the sheer joy of spilling within him. Anakin groaned, cock pulsing, and slumped forward, over Obi-Wan’s glowing form.

He held Obi-Wan - almost limp - and buried his face against Obi-Wan’s throat. He sucked hungry kisses against the skin, wanting to leave more marks, wanting to stain the pale flesh, wanting to leave no room for doubt that Obi-Wan was--

Was breathing shakily, trembles moving through him.

Anakin swallowed, hard, wrestling back control of all his riotous wants. He was aware, distantly, of cheering and the brilliant lights filling the chamber. But that all felt far away as he stroked a hand comfortingly across Obi-Wan’s stomach, pressing softer kisses to his skin, and holding him, there on the altar.

He managed to ask, as he got his breath back, “You think that did it?”

Obi-Wan laughed, tilting his head further to the side in what Anakin took as an invitation, and said, “Darling, you may have overshot us right into summer.”

#obikin #glimmer replies #ask me anything #Spicy September Week #public ritual sex #marking #spicy #not safe for wizards #established relationship #seriously thank everyone for all the prompts and support through this week #i was very nervous about doing so many spicy fics #i still remember that comment i got about my writing being good even if the sex is bad #so #thank you all of you #see you next year for another spicy week?#or maybe we'll do one in the spring #WHO KNOWS

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astudyinimagination · 7 years

Text

third Obi-Wan & Mara chapter

New chapter at last! I'm afraid, tho, this chapter is a tiny bit filler-ish. I'm not thrilled with it, but I want to get it out there, especially with everybody eager to see more. Hope you enjoy!

FFN || AO3

Chapter 3: Ethics and Logistics

Obi-Wan very quickly realized that there would be logistical problems to housing anyone else in his small house, let alone a child who owned nothing other than the clothes on her back. Clothing was a good start; until he went in to Anchorhead to buy her some new clothes, she would have to make due with his tunics, which fit like much-too-wide dresses on her. He would have to buy more food, too, which meant spending more money… no, leave those thoughts for the morning. There will be time in the morning.

And tonight, he would be sleeping on the floor, as there was only one bed.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Mara protested. “I don’t mind.”

“My dear, I have slept in far worse places than on the floor of my own house, I assure you.” The bed was none too comfortable anyway, as she’d soon discover.

Mara sighed in resignation and gingerly touched her red face. “Ow.” On the way home, the suns had burned her very pale skin, but she hadn’t begun to feel the effects until after supper.

“You can use the sonic shower—” he nodded at the closet-sized refresher in the back corner of the house—“and I believe I have some cream for that burn; we can do apply it after you shower.” She nodded. “And I have a tunic you can wear to bed; it will be big on you, but you can wear it until I clean your clothes. That is, if you want them to be cleaned, and not get so dirty that they stand up on their own.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, please. I’m not an urchin, Ben—I’m used to changing my clothes three times a day.”

“Yes, well, I’m afraid we don’t have that luxury here. In the morning, I should probably go out to Anchorhead and see about buying you some new clothes. That is, unless you want to wear those for the rest of your life.”

Mara shuddered and shook her head. “Yeah, no.”

Obi-Wan chuckled, and handed her the tunic. “I’ll go outside, and you can call when you’re done.” The house had partitions, but it was still all one room aside from the ‘fresher, and she’d hardly have room to dress herself in there.

“Thanks,” she said somewhat shyly.

He nodded, turned, and left the house, the door hissing shut behind him. Out here, Tatoo I and II hung low in the horizon, the desert that was mostly yellow and brown by day now bathed in orange and red. In the other direction, the moons were rising, crescent and pale. He took a deep breath of the blissfully cooling air.

I’m really doing this. I’m taking in a child. He smirked to himself. Qui-Gon must be so proud.

“I am,” said a deep, gravelly, infinitely-familiar voice behind him.

Unsurprised, Obi-Wan turned and raised an eyebrow at the transparent blue form of his departed Master, who was smiling warmly. “I was wondering when you’d turn up.”

“I thought it best not to alarm the child just yet.”

Obi-Wan snorted. “What do you know about her?”

“No more than you, Obi-Wan. Don’t forget that I’m not omniscient, not existing in the Force like this.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “I remember, I remember.”

Qui-Gon’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “You’d best watch your step, my old Padawan. That one is a firecracker. Once she feels safe and comfortable with you, you’ll have no end of trouble.”

Obi-Wan groaned. “...I thought you said that you’re not omniscient. How do you know she’ll stay?”

“I don’t know in any quantifiable way,” Qui-Gon shrugged, “but I do feel very strongly that she will.”

“Good,” Obi-Wan murmured. She was just a child, absolutely no older than Anakin had been when they’d first met. She needed someone to take care of her.

“And train her, if she wants it,” Qui-Gon added.

Obi-Wan frowned. “I wish you’d stop doing that. Reading my thoughts.”

The ghost chuckled. “I’m sorry. It’s just very easy.”

Ob-Wan rolled his eyes. “Go bother someone else. Go bother Anakin.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he wished he hadn’t said them. How could he have been so callous to his Master and the memory of his former Padawan?

Qui-Gon’s craggy face had creased further with pain. “I do,” he said softly. “He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t realize that I’m real, and not a dream.”

For a moment, Obi-Wan’s heart hurt so much that he could have clawed it out of him just to stop the pain. “I’m sorry.”

Qui-Gon smiled sadly. “I’ll let you get back to your new charge. I’ll go ‘bother’ Yoda, instead.”

Obi-Wan smiled faintly for his master’s sake. “Please give him my regards.”

“Of course. Relax, young one, and trust the Force.” Qui-Gon’s image was already beginning to fade. “It is with you right now.”

The tunic turned out to be huge on Mara’s tiny frame. She seemed to enjoy it, however, all but nestling into its folds like luxuriating in a bathrobe. “I feel so clean,” she said happily. “I don’t even care that it wasn’t a real shower.”

Obi-Wan chuckled. “I’m afraid a real shower is too expensive on this planet.” He went to his small medicine cabinet for the skin cream, one he hadn’t needed to use in years as his skin had tanned enough to the point where it rarely burned anymore. He found the right tube and brought it out; Mara reached for it, but he said, “Allow me.”

And she did, taking a seat on the bench again and folding her hands in her lap. Obi-Wan leaned down and began to gently smear white cream on her hot, chapped skin. “That is an impressive burn you’ve got,” he teased.

She stuck her tongue out at him, and he chuckled. “I never got out much.”

Obi-Wan nodded, lightly running his finger down her small nose, making her squirm reflexively. “I’d imagine.”

“I’ve never had sunburn before in my life.” She sounded so offended that Obi-Wan couldn’t help chuckling again, and her resulting glare made him laugh harder. “You mock my pain,” she said flatly, and he realized she was deadpanning.

He made himself sober instantly. “I would never do such a thing,” he said solemnly.

She gave a slight laugh, and he smiled, basking in the warmth of the sound. He had lived alone for so long, after being a part of tight-knit communities—first the Jedi and then the GAR—all his life. And it felt so good to spend time with someone—anyone—without the secret of his being a Jedi between them.

She let him finish rubbing the cream, eyes closed in contentment, no doubt relieved at the cool freshness seeping into her skin. “Did you burn a lot when you first came here?”

“A little,” Obi-Wan admitted. “My skin eventually tanned enough that the suns hardly burn it anymore.”

Mara pouted. “Lucky.”

He chuckled and put away the cream. “There we go. That should help you heal overnight.”

“Thanks,” she murmured, giving him a small smile.

He returned it, heart warmed by the knowledge that, whatever Palpatine had done to her, he hadn’t stolen all her softness. “You’re most welcome.” He nodded at the bed, a shelf jutting out from the wall with a mattress atop it. “Are you ready for bed?”

She nodded and yawned. “I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

His smile softened. “Then get some sleep, little one. You’re safe tonight. And make sure to wrap up well with the blankets; the nights are cold.”

Obi-Wan was not a lucid dreamer, but he could almost always distinguish his dreams from reality, and he had had versions of this dream many times.

Ahsoka had never left the Temple, never been accused of being a terrorist in the first place. She was a Knight now, and might take on a Padawan of her own soon, being much better and more experienced with children at as a young adult than Obi-Wan had ever been.

The Temple had never fallen. Anakin had never Fallen. Darth Sidious had been defeated, and Order 66 was a bad dream that had never come to pass.

Anakin was still a Jedi but openly married now. In the logic of dreams, that was never properly explained; Obi-Wan just accepted it. It was easy to, seeing how happy and Light it made his old Padawan… seeing Padme alive and happy again. Her heart had never been broken. She had served as Chancellor for the term after Palpatine, and then Bail Organa had been elected after, leaving her with much more time to raise the young, good-natured hellspawn that were Luke and Leia. The twins were running around the Room of a Thousand Fountains, and Anakin and Obi-Wan were lounging on a bench, watching them while Padme was off on some errand or other, no longer a Senator or Chancellor but instead the director of a relief program for victims of the Clone Wars.

“I don’t know how you ever managed me, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said wearily. “They’re exhausting.”

Obi-Wan snickered. “What goes around, comes around.”

Anakin groaned and sighed. “What about you?” he said after a pause.

“What about me?”

“You could take on another Padawan. It’s been—what? Thirteen years? Fourteen? You have to have recovered from me by now.”

“Sadly, I do believe the trauma has scarred me for life.”

Anakin snorted lightly. “You could take on the little redheaded girl. What’s her name… Mara.” Obi-Wan started, nearly jerking himself out of the dream, which had lulled, by now, his grasp on reality. “Always hanging out with the twins,” Anakin continued, unperturbed by Obi-Wan’s reaction. “She seems like she’d be a good fit for you.”

Obi-Wan looked, and, sure enough, there was a flash of red-gold hair and a pale face, running around with Luke and the less-defined image of Leia (who looked exactly like a young Padme when she stood still, though Obi-Wan somehow felt sure that image wasn’t correct). “A good fit?”

Anakin shrugged. “She reminds me of you. Pragmatic, sarcastic, stubborn…” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes and elbowed Anakin in the arm, and the younger man doubled over giggling. Giggling. One would have thought a grown man and father would have picked up some dignity by now.

“I don’t know,” Obi-Wan sighed. “I… did not do so well with you. I would not like to give a repeat performance.”

Out of the corner of his eye, the image of Anakin flashed. Flashed into the form of the man—the thing—who’d replaced him. The black helmet and ensemble that he had only seen in HoloNet images.

“You can’t do better,” Anakin said quietly, “if you don’t know what you did wrong in the first place.”

Obi-Wan woke feeling more stiff and sore than usual, and why was he on the floor—oh. On the bed above him, a small form was snuggled up inside the blankets. Sighing, he cast aside his spare blanket and pushed himself up with difficulty; apparently, he was not as young as he once was. A glance at his chrono told him it was well after sunrise, and Mara showed no signs of waking. Well, he’d leave her to her sleep and see about fixing breakfast.

The kitchen light did not disturb her, nor did the sounds of his making tea or cereal. By the time, though, he had finished eating, she was beginning to stir. “Good morning, Mara,” he said genially.

She jerked upright in bed, eyes wide, body tense, then relaxed as memory came to her. “Morning,” she said sheepishly, stretching and pushing the blankets off her.

“Did you sleep well?”

Mara padded slowly into the kitchen, yawned, and nodded. “I don’t think I’ve slept that deeply since Imperial Center.”

“Coruscant,” Obi-Wan corrected with a twinkle in his eye. He got up and handed her a bowl and the cereal box.

“Insurgent,” she grumbled, lips twitching.

Obi-Wan chuckled, also producing a cup of water for her.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

“You’re welcome. I’m afraid, however, I don’t have anything for you to amuse yourself with while I’m gone; not unless you’re willing to read my notes.”

“Your notes?” Mara said around bites of cereal.

“I’ve been writing down notes for the past few years about the Jedi Order,” Obi-Wan explained. He’d been thinking about it in the silence before Mara had awoken; he had written down no secrets that he felt he couldn’t share with her. “What the Temple was like, what the Order was like, the lessons we taught and the philosophies we held, how to build a lightsaber, what individual members were like…”

“Anything that you can remember,” she murmured.

He nodded, a lump having risen inconveniently in his throat.

She frowned. “You’d be willing to share that with me?”

He shrugged and smiled faintly. “Can’t very well have you sitting here in boredom for hours.”

She smiled fleetingly. “Yeah, I guess.”

It was his turn to frown. “Mara, is something wrong?”

She shook her head slowly; he could see her try and discard different ways to say whatever it was she was thinking. “I still don’t understand why you’re doing all this for me,” she said at last.

Ah. “Because you need help,” Obi-Wan said gently. “Because it’s the right thing to do.” Her face twisted—oh, a misstep. Of course she would have been raised with a very different set of ethics. “Because it’s… kind.” She looked up, brow furrowed. “And everyone needs a little kindness in their lives.”

She seemed to turn that over in her head. “You must have made a very bad Jedi,” she said after a minute, clearly trying to lighten the mood.

He couldn’t respond in kind. “I’m afraid I was a very good Jedi,” he said, rising from his chair to prepare for the trip. “And that was probably the problem.”

#the Obi Wan adopts Mara AU #Obi Wan Kenobi #Mara Jade #Star Wars #sw fic #SW AU #Sky writes stuff #The Family You Choose #The Hermit and the Orphan

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philcoulsonismyhero · 8 years

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I got tagged in an ask meme! I got tagged twice, and I’m lazy, so I’m not going to come up with my own questions or tag anyone, but if you want to answer these questions then go for it and say I tagged you!

Tagged by @hanchewie (Thanks!)

1. Do you have a favorite book? (Or book series?)

I have A Lot of favourite books, but the first series that comes to mind is the Scarecrow series by Matthew Reilly. The best technically-military action thrillers I’ve ever read, with ridiculous actions sequences and some excellent characters.

2. What is your favorite type of weather?

Cool, clear and bright. (And by ‘cool’ I mean in the vicinity of 8-12 degrees C. Not cold enough to actually be cold, and still well below 15 degrees, which my family designates as “officially warm enough for ice cream”.)

3. Coffee, tea, or hot chocolate?

Hot chocolate. I don’t actually drink coffee or tea.

4. What would be your dream job?

Does Starfleet science officer count?

5. Do you prefer writing in pen or pencil?

Pen.

6. Cats or dogs? (Or neither?)

I love dogs, but cats.

7. What character(s) do you most relate to?

Oh boy. This is a complicated question. Because the truthful answer is Eobard-Thawne-as-Harrison-Wells and also Eobard just in general, and it’s a weird concept relating to a villain. But the way that Eobard processes the world is very relatable, and I’m 110% sure that he’s autistic in a very similar way to me. Imagine Eobard’s personality, but attached to a much better set of morals and with fewer reasons to be angry, and that’s pretty much me. It’s marginally spooky.

8. Do you read more fiction or nonfiction?

Definitely fiction. I should probably get in the habit of reading more science literature, though.

9. Do you have a favorite holiday?

Not particularly.

10. What was/is your favorite subject in school?

Look. I was that kid that loved school. I did six subjects in a year where you’re only supposed to do five, because I liked maths, English, chemistry, physics, history and Latin too much to consider dropping one of them. I don’t think I could pick a favourite from that list.

11. What are some of your favorite music artists?

I’m not generally big on artists. I’ll like specific songs, sure, but I’m really picky about lyrics so it’s rare that I can genuinely claim to like an artist properly. That said, there’s this band called The Mechanisms who do sci-fi re-tellings of myths and legends and fairytales, and I’m very fond of them.

Tagged by @squireofgeekdom (Thanks!)

1. Favorite place in your home?

My bed, to be honest. But my bed back home is really cool, because it’s a loft bed, ie. basically a top bunk without the bottom bunk. Yup, that’s right. I’m 20 years old and I still climb a ladder to get into bed. It’s great.

2. Is there a book you’d love to see adapted into a tv show/movie/play?

There’s loads of them. But the first one that comes to mind is for slightly petty reasons, and that’s Star Wars: The Approaching Storm by Alan Dean Foster. I first read it more than ten years ago, and it’s always been one of favourite Star Wars EU novels. I’d love to see an animated adaptation of that story in the style of The Clone Wars, but only if it’s faithful to the characters. Because (and this is why this is slightly petty) it’s got Barriss Offee in it, and she was always one of my favourite EU Jedi. In fact, I’d call her a childhood hero. So I was Deeply Angry when the version of her that showed up in TCW was only her in name only, and was not only the wrong age and had a different personality, but also lacked literally everything I loved about the character. So I want to see her done justice in animated form, and adapting this book (which is awesome, and also has Obi-Wan, Anakin and Luminara as main characters) would be a great way of doing that.

3. Country you’d most like to visit?

New Zealand for the scenery, America for the friends.

4. What’s something you’re really excited for this upcoming year?

All the superhero TV shows and a whole bunch of movies.

5. Do you have a favorite piece of clothing?

I have a Reverse Flash t-shirt that I wear slightly too often, but my ultimate favourite has to be my Captain Marvel hoodie. It’s obnoxiously brightly coloured, and I wear it literally every day. It’s great.

6. Favorite place to vacation?

Up north, in the Highlands. It’s really pretty, and also it’s quiet. And there are big rocks that are good for climbing on. I have a huge fondness for both rocks and climbing things.

7. What superpower would you like to have?

Telekinesis. Let me be a Jedi, dammit.

8. Talk about your #aesthetic?

Spaceships. Dragons. Space. Robots. The night sky in places with no light pollution. Superheroes drawn with realistic proportions and practical suits, especially when they’re women. Brightly coloured and unashamedly nerdy graphic t-shirts. Green-brown hills dotted with exposed rock. Small rocky countryside streams. Greyscale drawings in graphite pencil. Sky blues and light greys and white. Platonic hugs. People who aren’t blood relatives referring to each other with family words.

9. If you could steal the wardrobe of a fictional character, who would you want to dress like?

Well, I already own several t-shirts entirely because Cisco wore them on Flash, so it has to be Cisco. I’m actually genuinely using his wardrobe as a vague guideline for finding slightly more formal clothes that I’m comfortable with. Unfortunately, one apparently can’t wear t-shirt and jeans for every situation in adult society. Who knew?

10. Any goals for the new year?

Draw more and write more. And figure out what the hell my plans for the future are because I currently have no idea.

11. What’s a song that always cheers you up?

Probably ‘Love is Gonna Find You’ by JD Eicher and the Goodnights. It’s just nice, and also it gives me warm feelings because it’s relevant to the story arcs of several characters that are important to me.

#i got tagged #this is me #personal stuff #hanchewie #squire

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