#hey this is technically my first 'real' oad too! so that's fun

[alabama-metal-man]

here’s a prompt to hopefully help get your creative juices flowing! “i hope that’s not what you’re planning on wearing” with obidala or oad?

thank you for the prompt, jeka!! here's something from a "never master and padawan/left the order/royal naboo/everyone lives and is happy" type au. it's a little more obidala than intended but oad is definitely there!

I wrote the boys' outfits with this in mind. Padme's didn't have a direct inspiration but something like this with colouring like this works as a general visual.

“I hope that’s not what you’re planning on wearing.” “What, you don’t like it?” She is royal resplendence in pale gold makeup and gossamer sleeves. Radiant, warm, like summer incarnate. His appreciative eyes take a quick journey along the soft drape of the dress, the delicate cling of fine Naboolian silk to her body. Dormé’s work is, as always, breathtaking. “You’re lovely, my dear. But if this is your outfit, I dread seeing my own.” “Obi-Wan, it’s been—” she mutters a quiet curse as she fumbles with the final clasp at her back, always left undone by the Handmaidens until Padmé decided she was finished, “—five years, and you’re still not used to this?” “Oh no, I’m quite accustomed to your elaborate ideas of what constitutes fashion for you.” His fingers take the place of hers and he deftly fastens the clasp. “Which means I know the ideas you come up with for me.” “This is hardly elaborate.” “Perhaps not, but it isn’t your typical choice.” She raises a challenging brow at him, and points him to his own clothes that hang just inside her wardrobe. “Anakin liked his.” “Anakin also likes podracing and that disgusting stew Master Yoda used to make.” At the wardrobe, he groans. “Are you equating my fashion sense with swamp slop?” “Of course not. But Padmé, really—” he lifts the sleeve of his shirt. “It’s entirely transparent.” “Not entirely. The pants are solid.” “Padmé.” “It’s on trend.” “It’s absurd.” “It’s summer.” “I’d rather sweat.” Her smile is a fond, secret thing; the kind she reserves only for himself and Anakin. “You’re impossible.” “As are you.” He allows a smile of his own, fingering the appliqué along the collar. “You already gave Anakin his?” “Yes.” “And you’ve been keeping mine from me because—?” “Because I knew you’d be stubborn about it.” He sighs, reluctantly slipping out of his robe.  “I am not a prideful man.” “I know.” “But if Mace or Qui-Gon or, Force help me, Quinlan say one word—” Her laugh is sudden and bright, like the chime of crystal bells in Theed’s cathedrals. “Then I suppose you’ll just have to wear the overcoat.” He pauses, shirt half on, and turns to her. “The what?” She grins, slips behind her dressing screen and returns with a simple overcoat. Pale green linen threaded with scattered flecks of gold and silver. He shakes his head at her. “You’re cruel.” “And you’re easy.” She laughs again and leans in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. He turns his head to catch her lips instead. She pulls back after a long minute. “You'll smear my makeup.” “I have half a mind to do much more than that, wicked wife of mine.” “Promises, promises.” She hums quietly. “They’ll just have to keep until after.” “Are you two ready yet?” Anakin strolls in, in the same overcoat ensemble Obi-Wan holds. He takes Padmé’s hand, brings it to his lips. “Beautiful.” “As are you.” She grins, tossing a pointed look to Obi-Wan who smirks back at her. Anakin looks him over, tilts his head at his half-open shirt. “Love the casual look, but can you get a move on? Guests are arriving and you know I’m no good with this delegation crap.” Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Some King Consort you are.” “Hey, we can’t all be gifted with your ability to entertain  even the most brainless politicians—” “Ani—” Padmé half scolds, half calls, gesturing vaguely at the light cape she’s trying to secure around her shoulders. “It’s true, you’ve said so yourself.” He fixes the cape around her. “Maybe so. But they’re our guests and it’s best to practice politeness now so we don’t insult anyone later.” “Like how you called the Zigyu delegate a— what was it, Obi-Wan?” “A 'half-witted bludfly larva.'” “Yeah, that.” Anakin bites back a laugh and Obi-Wan grins. “Not your finest moment, my love.” “Which is why—” Padmé glares at them, “—we should practice civility now.” “Well, it’s gonna get uncivilized pretty quickly if you leave me to my own devices out there much longer. So hurry up.” Obi-Wan shakes his head amusedly and finishes dressing.

#hey this is technically my first 'real' oad too! so that's fun #obidala #obianidala #my writing