#jedi ash designs

[random-thot-generator]

Don’t Leave Me Hangin’

MANDO x FEM READER

Summary: Reader gets stuck aloft in one of the Kom’rik’s cargo nets and has to call out to Mando for help. Filthy Mando smut ensues.

Warnings: explicit language, swearing, explicit sexual content, porn without plot, well, maybe a tiny little hint of plot, oral- f receiving, PiV, squirting, cum play(?), it’s messy- nuff said, Kom’rik sex, improper use of a cargo net, reader is an idiot who should think things through, Mando is an opportunist, no use of Y/N, maybe? bondage - Mando doesn’t help her out of the net like- immediately, but reader ain’t complainin’

(N/A: The brain fog has FINALLY lifted, and I wanted to write about my most recent random filthy thot. This is the result. It’s a long-ish, smutty one shot. Reader & Mando are in a situationship - friends-with-benefits type deal. I’m picturing like a live-in nanny/housekeeper kind of thing, but I don’t think I ever specified. This is post-season 3, and Mando’s living his best life on Nevarro. He and reader are in a Kom’rik, because I need room for my smut to flourish, and I didn’t want to resurrect the poor old Razor Crest from the ashes. If I missed any tags, let me know. And I hope you enjoy.)

Word Count: 4280

You really should have thought this through better.

That was your first thought after the cargo net stopped swinging, and you regained a modicum of composure. You winced at the sound of the net’s straps creaking under the strain as you tried to shift your weight and then froze. You remained completely motionless, afraid to even breathe, for several more moments.

“Shit...” you whispered in a quaking voice, peering down at the floor of the cargo hold several meters below you. You then glanced up at the winch mechanism above your head, praying it held. How in the hell were you going to get yourself out of this?

It had seemed like such a good plan at the time. You had just stepped out of the Kom’rik’s small ‘fresher, having showered and changed into your sleep shirt before bed, when you’d felt the ship drop out of hyperspace with a small lurch. You heard something clatter in the cargo hold below and blew out a tired sigh, knowing it was probably nothing but also knowing you wouldn’t be able to rest until you checked it out.

Grumbling under your breath, you had climbed down into the hold. Only the emergency lights were on, the ceiling and corners hidden in shadow, but you spotted something lying near a tier of shelves attached to the hull’s interior wall. It was one of the kid’s favorite cookies, the teal ones with the creme filling. Peering up into the gloom, you spied an opened foil sleeve of cookies perched on the edge of the highest shelf.

“How the hell did he even get up there?” you said aloud, shaking your head. Jedi training aside, the kid was far too much like his dad, a little risk-taker. You heaved a sigh, with no small amount of exasperation. 

Stars only knew what else he had left up there. Come to think of it, you had given him your datapad earlier to watch cartoons and hadn’t seen it since. Sighing in frustration, you began looking for a way to reach the top shelf. The propulsor lift was still charging, so that was a no-go, and you didn’t see a ladder of any sort that wasn’t attached to the ship already.

And then you had spied the cargo net.

It was dangling by its hooks from a mechanized winch and pulley system attached to the ceiling. It was used to keep extra containers suspended above the floor to free up space, its track running the entire circuit of the area for maneuverability and convenience. Designed to hold several hundred kilograms, you were certain it could support your own weight. You could use it to lift yourself up to the shelf, retrieve whatever was up there and then lower yourself back to the ground. Easy peasy, jogan squeezy.

Detaching the control pad for the winch from the wall, you climbed inside the net, lacing an arm through the holes for a better grip, and then planted your bare feet on the cross sections of the heavy straps. It was a bit shaky at first, but once you gained your balance, you quickly ascended until you were at eye level with the top shelf. Tucking the control pad under your chin, you reached up to feel your datapad under your fingertips and sniffed in amusement. You’d have to give Grogu a good talking-to in the morning, but for now you at least had your datapad back. Slipping it and the sleeve of cookies off the shelf, you shuffled the objects around, your grip on the net slackening.

It was then that the Kom’rik made another jump into hyperspace, making the ship jolt with the transition. You shrieked when the net began to swing wildly, feet slipping out from under you as you let go of everything in your hands to hang on for dear life. Panting for breath, heart thundering in your chest, you clung like a monkey-lizard to the straps and prayed the net didn’t break.

So, there you were, hanging above the hold like a piece over-ripe fruit, arms and legs entangled in the net with no way down, because, of course, you had dropped the winch’s control pad when you dropped everything else. You could see it lying on the floor below you, right next to the broken casing of your datapad.

“Shit!” you repeated, leaning your forehead against the straps and huffing out an angry breath. Could this situation get any worse, you wondered. You’d have to yell for Mando to come get you down, which you weren’t looking forward to, but who knew how long it would take before he even came back this way? What if decided to just sleep in the cockpit? Would you end up hanging there all night?

The thought made your awkward position in the net feel even more uncomfortable. Your feet had slipped through the holes, so your legs were now dangling under you, the straps cutting into the tender meat of your thighs. One of your arms was still threaded through the net while the other one was pinned close to your side. You could feel the cold air of the hold settling into your bones and making you shiver, the thin material of the tunic doing little to stave off the chill.

You knew that the longer you hung there, the colder you were going to get, the number your limbs were going to grow. Your feet were already stinging and your teeth chattering. There was no help for it. You had to call for Mando.

“MANDO!!!”

Your voice bounced back at you, making your flinch. Holding your breath, you waited to hear his boots thudding against the metal floor overhead, but nothing. He hadn’t heard you.

“MAANN-DDOO! HEEELP!”

You waited. Still nothing.

Oh, stars, maybe he had fallen asleep in the cockpit. after all. With the door sealed, he would never hear you. Panic began to creep in, shortening your breath as it constricted your lungs.

“MANDO! PLEASE! I’M STUCK IN THE HOLD! MAN-DOO!!!”

“What the hell are you doing?”

You heard his voice coming through the ship’s comm system and could have cried in relief. You’d forgotten the cams located throughout the ship. Stars, he’d probably been watching you this whole time. You were never in danger.

“I... I’m stuck, Mando.”

A gravelly bark echoed in the hold before turning to static. Great. He was laughing at you. “Obviously. Listen, I need to recheck the coordinates in navi and set the autopilot, then I’ll come get you down. Just, uh, hang tight,” he drawled, another garbled sound slipping out of his vocoder.

You bit your tongue to keep from saying something you might regret. You were in no position to taunt or snark back at him right now. “Fine,” you mumbled, and slumped into the net.

It was only a few minutes before the sound of his heavy boots were thudding across the metal floor above you, his footsteps music to your ears. You heard the clang of his armor hitting against the ladder before he slid down into view, feet landing with a solid thump in the hold. He approached at a leisurely pace, seemingly in no hurry, then stopped to stare up at you. His helmet tilted back, black visor glinting in the low light. Planting his hands on his hips, he tipped his head, first to one side and then to the other.

“M-Mando? What’re you doing? Can you get me down now, please?”

Mando hummed, his stance shifting. His arms dropped down to his sides, hands curling into fists. “You must be getting pretty cold, huh?”

You bunched your brows up in consternation. “Um... yeah? It’s fr-freezing down here.”

He nodded slowly, keeping his visor trained on you. “Hmm. Thought so. You’re not wearing anything but my old tunic. It’s not covering much. Is it?”

You quirked a brow at the change in his voice. His smooth baritone had dropped an octave or three, and it had a distinctive husk to it now. His tone was the one he used when the two of you were alone with the lights off and he was taking you apart, dark and sinfully seductive. It made you squirm despite your precarious position, and the net began to slowly sway back and forth. The edge of a strap slid into the crease where your thigh met your hip, and you felt your lower lips part. A low groan issued from his vocoder. Your mouth fell open.

Sweet Maker, your pussy was on full display for him. You hadn’t bothered with underwear after your shower, planning on putting on a clean pair once you got back to your sleeping quarters. Heat surged through your body, both from embarrassment and unexpected arousal.

“Mando...” Your voice sounded so small and breathy in the cavernous space.

“I can see everything, pretty girl,” he told you, taking an unconscious step closer. He was almost directly under you now, peering straight up at your exposed sex. Mortified, you felt the slow trickle of your arousal easing out of your channel. You weren’t dripping, not yet, but the thought of him standing beneath you, staring at your most vulnerable parts had your breath panting out in little puffs. “You... Are you going to... get me down, now?”

You heard the back of his gauntlet scrape the metal floor as he picked up the control pad for the winch. His breath was rasping through his vocoder, the sound of leather creaking as he moved underneath you. You felt the winch catch and then begin to whir as the net began to lower back to the floor.

“Thank the stars,” you whispered, anxious to be back on solid ground again.

You didn’t quite make it, though. You were still a few meters above the floor when the winch came to a sudden stop, leaving you to sway like the pendulum of a run-down clock. “M-Mando?”

“Look so pretty like this, sweet girl,” he murmured below you, and you felt his gloved fingers trail across the back of your thigh. You gasped at the contact. “Close your eyes,” he husked out, voice gone to gravel.

You didn’t even bother to ask why, just snapped your eyes shut and held your breath, waiting. You heard the slap of leather on the floor, guessing it must be his gloves he’d just taken off, and then you felt his bare fingers tracing the straps that dug into your thighs. His fingertips grazed along the edge where the strap met the skin, the sensation making you tense as heat spiraled in your belly, diffusing through your pelvis to spread in a hot rush of slick that trickled out to cool along the petals of your open folds.

“Oh, mesh’la,” Mando cooed, dark and low. “You’re dripping for me, pretty girl.”

A whine escaped your lips, breath catching in your throat as you felt his fingers slide through your arousal, gathering your essence on his fingertips. There was the pneumatic hiss of air as his helmet disengaged and then the ring of beskar ricocheted around the hold as he dropped it to the floor. You could hear the lewd, wet noises he made as he suckled his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you.

“Don’t move, baby girl.”

“Oh, Maker...” you whimpered in a quaking whisper.

You could feel your walls clenching in anticipation. Mando had never used his mouth on you before, said he’d never gone down on anyone before, but as the winch whirred back into motion only to grind to a stop again a moment later, you guessed you were about to find out if this would be his first time.

When you felt his hair tickle the backs of your thighs, an eruptive shudder passed through your entire body. When his nose grazed over your clit, you jolted in the confines of the straps hard enough to send the net swaying, but he caught you and brought you back to center.

“Sh-shh... Easy, baby girl. I got you...” He paused, sniffed. “Fuck, you smell so good,” he hissed out in a rush, and you heard him inhale, could feel his nose right at your parted lips. It was so filthy, so obscene, what he was doing, but it made you quiver with lust, just the same.

His hands came up to grip your ankles, holding you in place. “That’s better,” he murmured, hot breath gusting over your damp folds, eliciting another shiver from you. “Let me hear you, pretty girl. Want to know how good I’m making you feel. Okay?”

You nodded your head furiously, swallowing in an attempt to bring a bit of moisture back into your parched mouth. “Y-Yeah. Okay, Mando.” You didn’t even care that it came out as a whine.

The first touch of his tongue had you choking on air, hips stuttering, not sure whether to rock forward or away from the lapping muscle, but his strong hands held you fast, not letting your squirm away. He dragged his tongue in a slow, hot line from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned like a porn star. You could feel his cheeks bunch up as he grinned at your reaction, and then he flicked his tongue over your pulsing clit again, pulling a sputtering,” Ha-aaa-aaah!” from your gaping mouth.

“You like it when I do that?” he purred lowly into your folds. “What about when I do this?” He enveloped the sensitive bud with his lips, tongue flickering over it with feather-light touches, making you writhe and grind against his mouth. He groaned, then suctioned his lips around it and sucked, pressing his tongue firmly against it. Your plaintive wail echoed throughout the ship.

“Fuck me...” he moaned, panting for breath, his voice shaking. He was completely wrecked. With a desperate snarl, he dove back in with a vengeance, tongue laving your inner folds, twirling around your entrance, lapping at your juices before kissing and sucking at your puffy, parted lips. He was devouring you whole, winding the coil in your core into a taut vibrating spring of tension. Your thighs were shaking uncontrollably, your breaths wheezing out of your lungs in desperate pants.

“Mando! Mando, I...” 

You couldn’t even voice a coherent thought, couldn’t tell him what was about to happen, but he seemed to understand, nevertheless. His fingers slid along your pulsing folds to catch at the rim of your entrance, circling it once before slipping inside. Your walls immediately clamped onto the digits, muscles undulating to pull them deeper. He growled at the feeling and latched onto your clit again crooking his fingers in a come-hither motion, the strokes sharp and quick as they tapped out a devastating tattoo against the spongy membrane of your G-spot.

The world went white behind your pinched eyelids, and you weren’t even aware of the choked scream that tore out of your throat as you were blindsided by your orgasm. The spring in your core gave way with a snap and warmth flooded from your center to gush out around his fingers and over his arm, splattering his lower face, cowl and chest plate.

“Ha!” he crowed. “That’s it! Fuck yes!”

You were barely hanging on, your very bones liquefied as you twitched and groaned with each consecutive pulse of your climax. If you had oozed out through the holes in the net to pool at his feet, you wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised.

“So fuckin’ good, for me. Look at that. Fuck, I need — nngh!”

You heard the motor of the winch whir back into life, then felt the cold sensation of the floor touch the bottom of your feet. You couldn’t have held up your own weight if your life depended on it, however, and so folded up with the netting as it came to rest on the floor. Strong hands lifted you out the mess of straps, hands moving over you, manipulating you as he whispered feverish words in Mando’a  like some fervent benediction.

You felt your back come to rest on top of the netting, the worn fabric of his cape spread out beneath you to serve as a barrier against the rough material. You had yet to open your eyes, jaw slack as you floated somewhere high above your physical body in a state of pure bliss.

Mando placed his calloused hand over your eyes, unwilling to test fate more than he already had. He felt crazed, rabid with lust, his only desire to be buried balls-deep in your cunt.

“Need to feel you, sweet girl,” he gasped at your ear, his breath stuttering against your neck. “Please, I need — “

“Yes! Stars, please, Mando. Want to feel you inside me. Do it...”

He whimpered as he lifted himself away long enough to scrabble at the closure of his pants, shoving them down with his underwear to the top of his thigh plates, a frustrating exercise to complete one-handed. When his cock sprang free of its confines, he moaned in relief, pumping it roughly a couple of times as he spread his leaking precrum over the head with his thumb. With a grunt, he fell between your thighs, notching himself at your entrance, inhaling a deep breath before he sank into your greedy, grasping cunt with an audible squelch.

“Fuuuckin’ hellll...” he moaned out as he slid inside your fluttering walls, grunting again when he felt them collapse around his cock and seize it in a vice grip. It was a struggle to draw himself back, the sensation making his balls draw up tight against his body. “Too good... too tight... Gonna make me cum...” he mumbled under his breath, fighting off his orgasm. When he had withdrawn a about halfway, he couldn’t stand it anymore and plunged back in, thrusting hard enough to shift the netting beneath you.

You sobbed, the feeling of being so full overwhelming, your shaking legs coming up to wrap around his hips, ankles locking over the flexing muscles of his ass. He was driving into you with abandon, the toes of his boots squeaking on the floor to find purchase, bracing his body against yours. His other arm he shoved under your back, fingers hooking over your shoulder to pull you down on his cock to meet each hard thrust. He was growling, muttering curses in multiple languages, hissing as you clenched and pulsed around him.

“Ah, fuck, sweet girl, I’m gonna — Shit! Fuck, baby, where do you want — “

“Inside... Want to feel you cum in me...” you moaned out, another orgasm rising like a massive wave in your core. “Ah, fuck!” you whined.

Your words snapped that last thread of control he had, and he surged forward, thrusting in wild, arhythmic strokes that sent you careening over the edge. Your climax washed over you like a euphoric wave, slow and liquid, a golden warmth that engulfed your lower half before spreading like molten honey.

Mando could feel your walls clamp down and spasm, milking his cock, drawing him in deeper. He threw his head back and came with a bellow, a primal, jagged roar of triumph. His chest lifted as his back arched, his cock exploding inside your walls, pumping ribbons of his thick seed deep into your hungry cunt.

He barely managed to throw an arm out to catch himself before falling forward. He was trembling above you. and when his elbow buckled, his head fell to your chest. His nose was smooshed into the side of your breast, his panting breaths teasing the sensitive bud of your nipple into a hard little nub beneath the thin material of his tunic. He gave a dazed grin at the sight, wishing he had the energy to take it in his mouth, but he wasn’t sure he could even lift his head yet.

“Stars, pretty girl. I think you’ve killed me.”

A breathless wheeze of laughter burst out of your chest, and you reached up to pull down the hand now splayed limp over your face to your lips. You left a lingering kiss in the palm as you crooked your other arm over your eyes, just so the temptation to peek wouldn’t get the best of you. You felt him lift his head with reluctance, his weight shifting, before his lips pressed to yours in a sweet, chaste kiss.

“You alright? I know I went pretty hard this time. I didn’t mean to lose it like that, but — “

Your hand came up to touch his face, landing on his neck instead. You slid it upward to cup his jaw, the feel of his patchy beard against your palm endearing. “Don’t you dare apologize,” you told him and drew him down for another kiss. “It was perfect. The best I’ve ever had,” you whispered against his lips.

He sighed, smiling against your mouth in relief and pleasure. When he shifted again, he saw you grimace. “Did I hurt you, sweet girl?” he rushed to ask, lifting his weight off you.

You giggled and shook your head. “No, it’s not that. There’s something cold and sticky all over your chest plate. It feels... icky.”

He glanced down to see your release from earlier smeared over his beskar, and he chuckled, low and dirty. “That’s your fault,” he teased. “You drowned me when you came the first time.”

Your mouth dropped open and, if not for his hand coming down to hold your arm in place, you would have jerked it away from your eyes to stare at him in shock. “I did not!” you gasped. mortified.

“Oh, you did, pretty girl,” he crooned. “I want to make you do it again.”

“What? N-Now?!”

A full-on laugh rumbled out of his chest this time. “No, sweet girl. As much as I’d love to, I don’t either one of us is going to be able to go another round after that last one.”

“Oh, thank the Maker,” you blurted out, and then winced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean —”

He sniffed in amusement and pecked you on the lips. “I know what you meant, mesh’la.” Sitting back on his knees, he rubbed at his face, grinning at the sticky feel of your spend drying in his mustache. He was positively covered in your cum, and he fucking loved it. His poor cock gave a valiant twitch before he tucked it back into his pants and stood. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get in the shower.” He retrieved his helmet, slipping it back on before bending to take you by the hand.

You groaned. “Just lemme sleep here. Can’t move right now.”

“You’ll freeze down here,” he chided you. “Now come on. I’ll help you.”

You whined as he hauled you onto your feet, and you staggered on your shaking legs. He shook his head and turned his back to you, bending his knees slightly. “Hop on. I’ll carry you up the ladder. Otherwise, we will be down here all night.”

You made a face at him, but wrapped your arms around his neck anyway, making a weak hop to get onto his back. Grasping your thighs, he hitched you up a little higher and stood, then trudged towards the ladder at the opposite end of the hold.

“Oh, stars,” you moaned out behind him, dropping your forehead to his back. “Do you think we woke Grogu? We were, uh... ahem... We were, you know, a little loud,” you whispered.

“Well, the ship’s still flying, and I didn’t hear anything break while we were down here, so I’m going to say no.”

You giggled. “He’s gonna get it tomorrow morning,” you vowed. “He was the reason I got caught up in that stupid net in the first place. He somehow managed to get on that top shelf with a whole sleeve of cookies and my datapad.” You paused, moaned again. “Shit. My datapad. It broke when I dropped it.”

“Don’t worry, mesh’la. We’ll get you another one, and I’ll talk to Grogu myself tomorrow morning, right after breakfast. Okay?”

You sighed, a little grin tugging at your lips. “Okay.” You heaved a sigh, tightening your grip when Mando started to climb up the ladder. “I know one thing. I’m burning that stupid net when we get back to Nevarro.”

Mando huffed and shook his head. “Like hell you are. We’re bringing that home with us. It’s going up in the bedroom, right above the bed.”

You gasped in shock, rearing your head back. “Mando!”

His rumbling chuckle bounced off the metal walls of the ship, and a warmth like the sun bloomed in your chest as a smile as big as the Dune Sea spread across your face.

“Okay, fine. We’ll discuss the cargo net later. But right now, I want a shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mando purred, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Taking your hand, he led you into the ‘fresher.

Despite Mando’s earlier doubts, you found out that you both did indeed have another round left in you.

(End notes: Just wanted to mention @saradika because she created the dividers and banners I’m using. She makes them for free. You can check out her masterlist on her blog. Her fics are *chef’s kiss* too.) 

#din djarin x fem reader #mando x fem reader #din x fem reader #mandalorian x fem reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #din x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #din djarin smut #mando fic #mandalorian fanfic

[isthisfree]

WIP Wednesday

Obi-Wan had learned to crochet, not knit, when he was seven years old. A visiting Master had been assigned to the creche and thought it would be a good skill to teach the younglings. They had been told it could help their fine motor skills, patience, and perseverance. Obi-Wan now thinks the Master should have added restraint to the list. Over the years Obi-Wan has had to restrain himself from buying every shade and variation of yarn he comes across, restrain himself from taking on too many projects or giving unrealistic deadlines to his friends’ requests, and the hardest one of all, restrain himself from taking his crochet hook and stabbing every single person, who no matter how often they have been corrected, still calls it knitting, right in their apparently useless eye. 

Obi-Wan eyed the hook in his hand, and mused that he could probably pop someone’s eyeball right out of their socket if he was so inclined, but luckily for the uncultured masses he could control his more murderous impulses. If he became truly irked though, he could always sic Anakin on them. His former Padawan would probably relish an opportunity to maim someone with a crochet hook. And what kind of Master would Obi-Wan be if he didn’t provide fun and enriching experiences from time to time? 

He looked up from the blanket he was working on for Ahsoka and caught sight of his reflection in the window. Blast. He was smiling, again. Obi-Wan forced himself to frown and turn his thoughts away from Anakin and back to the blanket for his Grand-Padawan. It had been happening more and more lately, his mind would betray him. Whenever Obi-Wan’s thoughts began to drift they would inevitably land on Anakin.

That in and of itself wouldn't be so bad, nothing to get worked up about. Anakin is an important - the most important really, part of his life. Of course he thinks about him! The issue was that his thoughts were becoming less and less...platonic in nature. But he reasoned, that doesn’t necessarily mean they were romantic thoughts or…lustful thoughts. No. There has to be a level between purely platonic and romantic, right? He shook his head. Best not to dwell, ignorance is bliss and all that. 

Obi-Wan tugged on his yarn. It didn’t budge. He signed. Of course his yarn was tangled. How could he expect anything to go smoothly when his own mind was such a mess. Meditation had not given him his usual amount of comfort. And why would it? His face twisted with self loathing. Of course he couldn’t successfully give his feelings for Anakin, because if he was honest they are romantic feelings, to the force, if deep down he didn’t want to let them go. He was a failure of a Jedi, a Master, and a friend. 

He pushed the blanket aside. He might need to scrap this project all together and start from scratch. Qui-Gon had always maintained that the recipients of gifts such as these could sense what the maker was feeling as they worked. Obi-Wan never really believed Qui-Gon, but he had never received a handmade blanket, scarf, poncho, or stuffed animal to test the theory. He was properly horrified though at even the smallest chance that poor Ahsoka might pick up on his inappropriate feelings. He would rather burn it to ash than have that happen. 

Ok, definitely time to take of break if he is contemplating arson. Obi-Wan stood and picked up the half finished blanket and his supplies, carefully storing them away in the custom caf table Anakin had made for him. It was full of drawers and compartments, big and small, designed to hold his yarn, hooks, stitch markers, scissors, really anything he could ever need for a project. Obi-Wan slowly ran his hand over the top of the table, before snatching it away. This was truly getting pathetic. Trying to sense his Padawan’s potential feelings for him from furniture. If this wasn’t rock bottom, Obi-Wan didn’t want to know what was. 

He needed to get out of their apartment, get his body moving and quite his mind. Obi-Wan clipped on his saber and headed out the door, his feet pointing him in the direction of the training salles. If this just happened to be the time that Anakin usually tended to be there himself, well that was just a coincidence, nothing more.

#obikin #wip wednesday

[stargirl-writes]

[chapter two] the secret history of anakin skywalker

the arrangement

pairing : assasin! reader x anakin skywalker

word count : 2.8k

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sypnosis

you have only known one truth about this war, the republic and the seperatists are two sides of the same coin. but now, your master count dooku has disposed of you after your consequent failures. his betrayal fueled your thirst for revenge. and in the cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself with an arrangement with the enemy. general anakin skywalker is willing to do what it takes for the republic to win, even if it meant dealing with you, his nemesis.

chapter summary

after your old master has betrayed you, you were captured by the jedi general skywalker. stricken by the grief, you resigned to your faith.

on the way back to coruscant to face republic jurisdiction, a sniper has fired in open space. taking general obi-wan kenobi down.

in a fit of anger, anakin skywalker accuses you. but you have already made up your mind in taking revenge on your old master. and even though you are terrified, you struck up an arrangement to aid anakin's mission to find obi-wan kenobi's true killer.

warnings : involves spoilers for star war's 'the clone wars' season 4, episode 15. violence, mentions of symptoms of ptsd, imprisonment, and betrayal.

notes : honestly did not think so many will like an enemies-to-lovers trope with a.s. so thank you for supporting this little fic of mine !

likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Anakin Skywalker has taken you.

Even on the way back to Coruscant— He kept glancing back to peek towards the back of his ship, just to check whether he was only making it up. And every time, his gaze meets your hollowed eyes.

This... rivalry between the two of you— started along the war. The valiant General, and you, the most prized assassin. You'd always slip out of his grasp— made him assume that he always won, that arrogant bastard.

Now, he has captured you.

And you wished you could wipe that expression of pride painted in his face. It was the bitter reminder of your doom.

You've done everything to keep your fire going.

Be smarter. Be more cunning. Offer yourself at the feet of a Master you didn't even entirely believe in. Give more, more, more...

And because you have been so fueled, you have somehow allowed it to burn you too— leaving nothing but ashes of what little of you remains.

Your eyes landed on your reflection. Warped, unrecognizable, full of dread. The shackles around your wrist glint— they were designed to restrain you from accessing the force. A measure Skywalker ensured. You thought, at least he thinks you still have a fight left in you.

Without the force, you felt your compartmentalized traumas resurface. And you feel yourself sinking into depths you can't reach.

It all seemed like a cruel ending.

Maybe— at this point, you thought, you deserved it too.

"Alright Snips, You head on to the temple, I'll have to attend to some things first" You heard Skywalker tell his padawan.

"Are you sure you don't need my help, Master?"

You peeked through the opening of the back window, the ship landed in Coruscant. 

"Nothing I can't handle"

You could almost make out that stupid grin on the Jedi.

Cocky bastard.

The divider opens, and you decided you were too tired to be annoyed. You didn't try to fight when Skywalker's hand clasps on your arm, leading you out.

You step down to the hangar. Your thoughts kept pouring in a wretched excess.

Let it all end.

There must be some mercy left for you—

Maker, make it easy.

Like falling asleep— not like this, a lifetime kept, left in the prisons of my own mind.

Your hands trembled— it felt so cold...

Coruscant had always been warm, you blinked, trying to see clearly through the fog in your mind. You concluded that the shock of it all was only settling now.

"You're late" Obi-Wan Kenobi stood along with five clone soldiers by the hangar.

"What could possibly be more urgent than my precious cargo?"

You glared at Skywalker. He huffed a laugh, tilting his chin to look down on you.

One...

Two...

Three...

If he thinks he can intimidate you with eye contact, then he really is deluded.

"I'll say— I was surprised by your news" Kenobi gets in between, "Hello, there"

You sigh, pressing your eyes close, not finding the energy to spite back. It'd be pointless anyway.

"Commander Cody will take the wraith back now, we must head on to the Temple" The older jedi instructs after noting your silence.

Skywalker's grip on you didn't loosen. Kenobi's eyes narrow to focus on his former padawan's hesitation.

"I was planning to take her myself" He declares, "Besides, she is good at escaping"

Kenobi's eyes remained on his old padawan. "Come along now, Anakin, we're required, and you're already late as it is"

You saw Anakin tried to challenge his master's command. Was he really convinced you'd go off running again?

His eyes land on yours, and you can't make out the expression on his face.

"Alright"

You felt the wind brush past the spot where Skywalker had let go of you. Maker— it was so cold, you kept your head low, trying to contain the way your lips were quivering.

A blaster shoots off— and you duck. Your eyes scan the direction where it came from.

Behind, beyond sight.

You hear Skywalker curse, then another goes off and three lightsabers ignite.

Your hand instinctively reaches for yours, but it was bound behind you and you're defenseless.

The clone soldiers swarm your vision.

"Any idea where that came from?" You heard Kenobi speak.

Ahsoka Tano points to the direction you were looking at. The sniper fires, the clone in front of you falls.

"Flank him to the right, Ahsoka cover the streets" The older jedi decisively commands.

"Don't keep your eyes off of her!" Anakin commands as he speeds past the clone in front of you.

The shots halted and all three jedi were running.

With all of them gone— An opportunity presents itself at your feet.

An escape.

'...I recall you seem to excel at' Skywalker's taunts slips in your mind.

There were only four clones left. Even without your saber, you can outmaneuver them— they share... a predictability.

You only need a distraction. Your gaze lands on the blaster the clone was holding.

You could set one off to fire— You focused on the trigger, centering your mind... just one distraction.

Fuck.

To your dismay, you realize you have forgotten that the cuffs in your hand are preventing you from wielding the force. So, at a loss of options, you headbutt the clone in front, then scrouching down aiming for the other clones' ankles. Two of them fall back, and you leap.

Your body paralyzes. You turn to find the fourth clone with a stun gun pointed at you and your vision gives up on you.

You jolt awake, heart thudding, beads of sweat forming on your forehead, and your mind fogging.

An escape, almost...

An ache accumulated from the base of your skull, you ran your fingertips over it— trying to soothe the tension and recalling the events that transpired.

Right.

You were knocked out by a stun.

You surveyed your surroundings, surprised your hands were free, but to your dismay find that force-restraining cuffs were still wrapped around your wrists.

The room was bleak. Four white walls, illuminated by a window that had been too high. A table and a chair towards the far end, a bedside table, and a bed where you were laying.

This isn't a prison, you thought suspiciously. You straightened your back, sprawling your legs out of the bed.

The last you remembered— the three jedi that have captured you have sprinted to follow a sniper. A sniper that took down one of the clones, missing you.

Missed. A sniper would not miss unless, unless you weren't the target.

Your mind has somehow considered that maybe that sniper was someone aiming to  give you an allowance. An option to flee. You knew your master—old master has hired many bounty hunters before.

Perhaps he wanted you to escape...

You blinked— not wanting to think furthermore, because then, you'll hope. He has disposed of you, that remains the only truth that mattered.

From the window, you could tell it was still day. You started at the door— locked, as you anticipated. Then you searched the table, then the underside of the mattress, then finally, the bedside table. You didn't exactly know what you were looking for— any indicator, or any material to defend yourself with.

The person keeping you was thorough. They ensured that your cuffs were impossible to crack, they wanted to make you powerless. So, you kept the thin scrap of metal you found behind the table as a measure— it would not be a good weapon, but you can't entirely let go of your instinct to have something.

Better than having nothing at all.

You sat down the edge of the table in defeat. Perhaps you were in a den of the undergrounds of Coruscant— this cell was too secured to have been just a normal one.

With nothing else to occupy your mind, the earlier thought resurfaced. A rescue...

From ordering your death to wanting to free you.

Something is not adding up here. Besides, you knew your master's extensive moves and countermoves to interpret these events simply.

If he was indeed disposing of you, he'd have done it himself. You think he'd deem you to deserve at least a fight. But he didn't. He must've made you believe he betrayed you to put you exactly where he wanted you to be.

A shudder ran down your spine. Because at the moment, you really had believed he'd gone on to just cut you off. And you still felt bitter that if this was all according to his grand plan, he'd let you stay in the dark. He allowed you to think it was real. Did he not trust you enough?

Must be part of a large scheme... you concluded.

The sound of the door sliding open makes you rise to your feet. Anakin Skywalker steps in your cell.

Your eyes narrow at the revelation. Half-expecting a Republic Officer to be in charge of you.

There was a new sharpness emanating from him, cold, dangerous, even his eyes were dark.

You inch backward, slowly, aiming to get near that rod you found earlier without turning your back against him.

Skywalker doesn't speak and your shoulders tense. His glare burns your skin— it doesn't need sensing his force signature to feel his anger.

You didn't blink, bracing yourself, waiting, horrified that you were so defenseless.

"Obi-Wan's dead"

Your breath hitches— Kenobi? Taken down by a sniper? Has that been Dooku's plan along?

"You..." Your thoughts were halted by Skywalker's slurred voice.

"You did this" He accuses.

You try to swallow your fear but your throat closes. You have never seen Skywalker so— dismantled and you've no means to defend yourself when you'll inevitably be subjected to his rage.

"Skywalker" You step back once more. " I didn't do it"

"No... I knew when I caught you that you were up to something. You wouldn't just give yourself in. You... You killed him!" Skywalker's voice was booming with anger.

You didn't hesitate to scrouch down and grab the metal. Skywalker marches forward, your heart skips, what you're holding will not withstand a lightsaber.

You scramble backwards, Skywalker ignites his weapon, casting a light of your perceivable future.

"Listen, I didn't kill Kenobi, you were with me the entire time!" You tried to implore some logic onto the jedi.

Skywalker remains unconvinced. Then, the realization hits you, this wasn't a prison— not by the Republic. Anakin Skywalker was the one keeping you, convinced that you were the one to kill his master. If you somehow died here, no one would even know. He'd kept you here to bring justice he thought the Republic would not pass to you.

An eye for an eye.

Skywalker charges, you leap. You stumble backwards, making use of every space you could establish between you and his rage.

He presses forward once more and you block his lightsaber. The rod melted in contact, your eyes widened at his strength.

"Skywalker, I didn't kill Kenobi— the reason you even got a hold of me was because Dooku tried to kill me" You struggle to fight off the weight of his saber.

Then, he pauses, the weapon still dangerously close to your neck. You saw his eyes flicker. A hesitation.

You could use that.

"He betrayed me, left me for dead. I don't know who killed Kenobi, but it was not me"

You can't hide the hurt covering your words— for despite it all, your master has betrayed you.

Skywalker slowly brings his lightsaber down and you finally let go of the breath you didn't know you were holding.

You looked down, quickly brushing away the tears that indicated how truly scared you were.

You force yourself to look at the Jedi once more— half terrified that his anger would resurface.

He was blinded by rage— something you have never seen him display before.

"Dooku has abandoned you?" Skywalker's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Yes" You admitted.

Your jaws clenched. "I'm not in prison, aren't I?"

Anakin's eyes were on your hands, noticing the way it twitched. You balled it into fists behind you.

Skywalker's lightsaber foils back. "No you aren't"

A shudder runs down your spine. So he did intend to keep you here. Has the Jedi been involved with this? They'd never be so vindictive... Perhaps he was doing this entirely on his own. You can't decide which one is worse.

"I did not kill your master"

In this light— you could see that it wasn't a Jedi that wanted vengeance, he was a boy grieving for his master.

You'd forget how young he was sometimes. He was no older than two years compared to you.

"But I know Dooku would've wanted to. If it had been a sniper, then he'd hire a bounty hunter, he's done it before" You lead on.

"I can help you"

Skywalker's expression turns that of a mask, fiending his anger into a composed exterior "Why would you think I'd trust you?"

You stepped forward. "You don't have to"

You threaded carefully on what you knew; he wanted to avenge his master, you can capitalize on that. "You've taken me here because you thought Republic jurisdiction isn't enough to avenge your master"

Skywalker purses his lips, you wait for him to deny his intentions but instead gets met by his hardened gaze.

"You want justice. As I do, it seems we have a common enemy" You declared.

You were standing very close, you could make out the tissues covering the scar tracing his face.

"And what will you get out of this?" Skywalker considers.

A way back. Something whispers from within.

"My freedom. I want a pardon. When I kill Dooku, I don't want to be part of this war anymore"

Skywalker apprehends you, you wished you could have some access to the force to read him, but you could only wait...

"No" he shakes his head.

You fought the panic arising from deep within you. For a moment— you doubted yourself. The thought of having rot in Coruscant, and endless agony of being kept, slipping your mind. A moment.

He saw you

And you saw him see you.

"You can't expect me to believe you won't come running back to Dooku when you have the chance"

His words stung.

Right... that had been your intention, and when he says it like that, it feels foolish. You were like a dog going back to its master after he kicked it.

Even your assumption of a grand plan, of your master wanting to rescue you... was only an assumption. He still left you.

"You haven't been betrayed before" You looked down— your initial hope twisting into something ravenous, a thirst for revenge.

You felt Skywalker's eyes survey you. Like he had been calculating whether it was a risk he'd take. You could only hope his desire for revenge would suffice.

"Your freedom?" He speaks up after a while.

You thought it might have sounded futile— you didn't even consider wanting it until you've faced someone who can hand it to you.

You didn't know if there is a life for you outside the war. It seemed as though Anakin Skywalker was buying your excuse, so you'd have to hold on to that.

"I have nothing to go back to" You answered.

Skywalker nods. You saw the faint color of his eyes— you thought, he might try to conceal how he feels but his eyes will always reveal him.

"When all of this is done, no one can know" He names his terms. You nod.

His eyes lingered on yours— you didn't falter.

Outside of what you know of him; you've never really taken notice of how ambiguous his methods are in pursuing his interests. It's quite... appalling. His Jedi Council will never allow it, you wonder how much he has done that he kept from them.

After a while, he straightens his posture— like he was trying to erase the conflict you saw.

"I'll come tomorrow" He says before stepping to the door, disappearing from your sight.

Your mind raced on the things you have somehow agreed to.

In a cruel twist of fate, you have found yourself shaking hands with your enemy.

You have survived, but you have not been spared.

taglist : @etheriaaly @nyaaaaa008

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist and be notified when the next chap comes out 🫶

© to @cafekitsune for the borders

#anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin x you #star wars #star wars anakin #anakin #sw #anakin fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #the clone wars #tcw #sw anakin #fanfic #fanfiction

[kaylinalexanderbooks]

OC questionnaire

Thanks to @drchenquill here, @somethingclevermahogony here and here, @mk-writes-stuff here, @elsie-writes here, and @dyrewrites here!

My last questionnaires:

Robbie, Gwen, Maddie, Noelle, Jedi, and Kelsey here.

Carmen, George, Akash, Sam, Lexi, and Ash here.

Gabriel, Carla, Parker, Rose, Alex, and Ewan here!

Below the cut I'll do: Liam, Hye-Jin, Wendy, Wade, Issa, and CJ!

#1- Liam

Which color do you hate?

“Beige. Oh my God, it's just a boring color. I thought that we were past this. Different shades of beige and brown are being used to be the ~aesthetic~ of so many people on Tiktok. Ma'am, where are you from, Boringsville??? I'm not dissing brown. Brown is a great color. But beige??? Who thought this would look nice on anything, much less everything? Why are all of your walls beige--you look like you live in a sandcastle. Man, I feel bad for Hye-Jin. Her powers appear beige! You poor thing. I have brown. An awesome color, remember. So earthly. Anyway, beige can go die with the sand in the Yukon River Basin for all I care. If I go into your house and see one beige wall, I'm leaving. A rainbow is weeping. You disgraced the rainbow. How dare you.”

If all the sounds in the world would cease to exist, which sound would you miss the most?

“I don't see the point in making me choose a favorite sound. Also, how do you know sound stopped? Ceased to exist? Sound exists as a vibration through matter. Why would that vibration suddenly stop? How do you know we didn't all just go deaf? That's a significantly more logical explanation than sound disappearing. And if you think I don't have an answer and am just avoiding the question, you're very mistaken. I'd miss people's voices. For a variety of reasons. Connection, analyzing tone, nuances of emotion or thought, even my own voice. Sure, I'd be able to learn a gesture-based language--I am not saying voice is the most important thing to hear. But considering I like a good oral debate, I would still miss it, even if it would take me time to adjust to the new mode of speaking. Next!”

What is the first rule you learned as a child?

“You are going to have to rebel and argue your way out of everything. You may or may not be able to tell, but I am a strongly opinionated person. I can make an argument out of everything. Knowing how to back stuff up with logic and facts to get your way. Push and push and push. Know your shit. If you're wondering how this was the first rule I learned, one of my first memories is refusing to eat my carrots because they were bad. I was...three and a half maybe. And I told my mom, 'if I eat these carrots, I will throw up, and then I'd have to eat more food, and you get mad when food is wasted'. I then ate carrots and threw up. Never had to eat them again.”

#2- Hye-Jin

What is one embarassing memory from your childhood that you can't shake?

“Oh, oh no. First day of class, kindergarten. I had to introduce myself in front of the class. I was so excited for my first day of class. I wore this cute little dress, my hair in high pigtails and bows. But when I stood in front of everyone else, I got so sick I threw up. I think I ate something like prune juice in the morning. My dress was ruined. Had to be walked to the nurse to change. Wore that the rest of the day.”

What would you take with you if you were trapped on a desert island for one week?

“Food, water, and shelter. Sunscreen. I'm not pale, but that doesn't mean I'll be protected from UV rays. I would like a change of clothes just so I feel clean. I wouldn't mind bringing one person along with me, but you said what, so that may not be an option. But I really think I could do it.”

What is your favorite animal?

“I actually really like snakes. They're super cool in terms of design. Love reading about them, and I have a snake themed room!”

#3- Wendy

What is your favourite animal?

“Changes depending on the day. Yesterday it was tigersharks. Today it's a water dragon. Tomorrow it may be a capybara.”

Do you have any obscure skills? What are they?

“I can basket weave. Some people think that's obscure.”

If you could change one thing about the world you live in, what would it be?

“More hours in the day so I can do what I want to do.”

#4- Wade

What is your favorite song?

“Rasputin. How can you not love that song? Mr. Brightside is up there, too.”

Do you like consuming happy, positive media, or sadder, more thought-provoking media?

“I like both. You need a balance in life. But thought-provoking in general. I like thinking about things, analyzing them. Not necessarily sadder stories, but thought-provoking.”

What is your favorite type of weather?

“I like it warm and sunny, but enough cloud coverage. The kind of weather where everything is greener, that makes you say out loud, 'it sure is a beautiful day.'”

#5- Issa

When is the last time you were afraid?

“Last week, I was staying up late working on an essay. I was home alone--something I rarely am with six siblings. It was eerily quiet. I already felt uncomfortable. I was on the phone with Alex, multitasking, so I could have someone to talk to to ease my nerves. She got up to pee, which left me alone in my living room for a few minutes. In that time, I heard a banging on our garage door. It was harsh, constant. I thought someone was trying to break in. Then as quickly as it came, it was gone. Alex got back on the line then. I would've felt much better if whatever that was happened any other time.”

Does the fear haunt you still?

“Not really. It was only a minute, maybe two. Took about an hour talking to Alex. But I stopped working on my essay for the rest of the night. Not that I didn't try, but Alex convinced me to stop when I couldn't concentrate due to my heart pounding.”

What do you do when you're afraid?

“What's with all the fear questions? Well, I usually stand my ground. I yelped a bit when that happened. I was frozen for a bit, but I actually was about to get up to check what the banging was when it stopped.”

#6- CJ

What was your favorite toy as a child?

“I had little mini figurines of a bunch of Puppets* characters. I liked them because most of my playtime consisted of me ordering them based on height. After I lined them up, I would play. I also liked burying a bunch of rubber balls in the yard, leaving them there for, like, a week, then digging them up again. My shovels were definitely a favorite. There was also some cool Alii tech thing that simulated growth of a plant. The entire life cycle, in fact. Man, that was awesome.”

What makes you laugh every time you see it?

“Issa and Alex invite us to their improv shows each Friday. Issa is the best at anything they give her. I could watch her all day. She loves putting inside jokes in her skits for me, and is great at linking back previous gags. And then Alex wins Can You Ask a Question? each time. But it's hilarious how she and Issa interact. One time, Wendy laughed harder than I'd ever seen, and she spit out her drink. Then this one asshole Ellie slipped on it during her turn. So yeah, the improv shows.”

Who is the most annoying person you know?

“Issa is annoyingly optimistic sometimes, but that's why I love her. Parker is also a bit annoying at times, but he's funny as shit, so I don't care. Gabriel is quite annoying. Everyone tells me that we're very similar, but I don't see it. Honestly, yeah, it's Ellie. I didn't want to say she was annoying cause she's mainly rude. She's constantly making fun of me for everything I do. Like she doesn't like how organized and specific I am for some reason. She asked for a pencil once, and I told her no, I have my pencils for a very specific reason, and don't let anyone else use them. I think she's hated me ever since. It's probably not as petty as that, unless it is. I don't know. Thankfully, I don't know her well enough to answer that question.”

*this universe's Muppets

TSP intro

I'll tag @gracehosborn @little-peril-stories @willtheweaver @willowiswriting @rickie-the-storyteller @mysticstarlightduck @badluck990 @unrepentantcheeseaddict @winterandwords @oh-no-another-idea @awritingcaitlin @cwritesfiction + anyone else who would like to play!

EDIT: I DID NOT GIVE YOU QUESTIONS OH MY GODDDDDD I'm so sorry

What's something that was horrible in the moment, but in hindsight is hilarious?

Do you often get lost in thought? Where does your mind go? How do you focus?

Who do you worry about the most?

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #oc questionnaire #oc tag game #my ocs #liam beaumont #hye-jin song #wendy amante #wade attwood #issa johansen #cj reynolds #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community #writing tag game

[jeudibeudibea]

howdy pardners, allow me to nerd out bigtime for you all.

i finally (mostly) finished the designs of my clone trooper OCs. i present to you Dorn Squad, of the 107th Special Tactics Division!

these guys are based off of old lego clone characters i had growing up :) i started writing a fanfic some time in middle school but sadly permanently deleted it, never to be seen again, so all of their original names and identifications were gone, as well as the tales of their and their Jedi companions' adventures! as far as i remember, they spent most of the war hot on the trail of a mysterious lightsaber-wielding rogue agent, who wanted nothing to do with either the Republic or Separatists, but was considered a threat to the GAR's operations. or, rather, Palpatine's grand plan.

in order from left to right, top to bottom:

officers: Captain Decker (CT-4303), Lieutenant Cooper (CT-3366), Sergeant Moor (CT-7983)

NCOs: Corporal Spring (CT-4937), Corporal Drift (CT-8731)

Troopers: Private Tene (CT-2859), Private Bale (CT-1195), Private Coil (CT-6378), and a basic Teal Company grunt design.

i will follow this up with the additional designs and a lore post for these particular characters soon :)

here is the colour palette so far (minus the greys and blacks):

i know the blue is pretty similar to Howzer's troops from The Bad Batch, and i tried to make it a bit distinct from that. Howzer's blue is a bit more saturated and slightly less green, from what i can tell. overall, though, i like the slightly desaturated accent colours! i think they turned out well and still work great together.

i didn't have much of a reason behind the first designs, which is why some are far simpler than others. i didn't actually start out making these for specific clones, i just was drawing helmets lol, but i revisited them a few days ago and started assigning them to the squad, and changed the designs somewhat to fit their personalities :)

i always liked the endless possibilities of characterising clones through their armour designs ever since i noticed Echo and Fives (RIP my boy) each had little Z-6 rotary cannon drawings with "For Hevy" on their Phase I 501st armour, and Waxer (RIP) had a drawing of Numa on his helmet. the state of their armours kinda say a lot about them individually, and makes it all the more sad when they erase all of it come time of the Empire (and TRAGIC when they regain control of their own minds and start to question Order 66).

idk, i like them so far! i have to actually do another squad from the 107th, Ash Squad of Grek Company (these guys are green lol i like to mismatch my legion colours). and then i will complete the profiles of the helmets, and start working on the armour designs as well!!!

#star wars #clone wars #pixel art #aseprite #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #clone trooper oc #star wars oc

[2stepadmiral]

Anakin Skywalker breathes with difficulty. It’s been almost twenty-five years since he really breathed freely, but now, it’s even more difficult. The suit is compromised, he knows. The life support system is failing. Given time, he could fix it, but something tells him that fleeing the Death Star immediately needs to be his immediate concern. He won’t survive the trip, something tells him. Is that the light again? It’s been so long since he felt it, he can’t really say. It’s been so long since anything pierced the cloud of darkness surrounding him, the cloud of rage and hatred that he had called ‘Vader’ and claimed as his identity for most of his life.

He feels a pair of hands pull him away from the rail he was leaning against and lay him on the ground. The hands are shaking with fatigue and pain, but their grip is gentle. He reaches out through the Force, and feels a presence reach back and seem to embrace him. He had felt this presence before, several times, but this time, the touch is not marred by his twisted desires. He can feel a hint of his old self, and a hint of Padme, in this wholly unique presence, this warm, kind, and hopeful being that he can now see clearly with his lust for power and desire to dominate and possess gone.

Luke. His son.

“We need to leave.” Luke says after a moment, his voice pained and ragged sounding. “Let me help you, father.”

Father. Beneath the blasted mask, a reluctant smile tugged at the edge of his lip. He hardly deserved to be called that, but he still felt delighted at the word.

He did not respond as he was hauled to his feet, his mechanical breathing coming his gasps of wheezing, electronic air. He would not live long, he knew. His son would live, must live…

He glanced to his left, past where Luke was now pulling his arm around his shoulder, and saw it. The lightsaber.

“Luke,” Anakin said, hearing once again the cursed electronic voice of Vader. He had often noted to himself how he hated the sound of his filtered voice, but it had never sounded so loathsome to him as it did now, now that he had regained his sense of self. Now that he had to truly consider his many sins.

“Luke,” he said again. “Your lightsaber. Do not… leave… your lightsaber. You will need it.”

Luke glances over at the fallen weapon, and Anakin notes the fatigue on the young man’s face as he struggles to stay on his feet and support the additional weight of Anakin’s cyborg suit.

He has your strength, Padme, your fortitude. Anakin thinks. Oh, Padme, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.

“It’s okay,” Luke says, looking back to his father. “I can build another one.”

Anakin looks at the saber again. The instant he’d first been handed the weapon, he’d recognized the design. Vader had been seized by jealous rage momentarily when he saw that his own son had patterned the weapon he’d built for himself after Obi-Wan’s lightsaber. He’d wondered in fury why had he not designed his weapon to emulate his old weapon, the lightsaber that Anakin had built and Luke had used for several years? Was it not fitting and proper for Luke to use the basic design that had served both father and son?

But that had been Vader’s lingering rage at his old master, a rage now gone and replaced with deep regret and sorrow. Anakin looked at the lightsaber, the weapon Luke had modeled after Obi-Wan’s.

And suddenly, he saw his old master, as he had been on Mustafar so long ago. He were covered in soot and ash, and his dirty robes stood out in the sterile white of a medical center. He held a wailing infant in his arms, and as he tore his gaze painfully away from the figure on the bed and looked down at the child, a rush of pained affection for the child flowed freely.

He saw Obi-Wan holding the infant closely against his chest as he rode a dewback across the Tatooine sands, his robes pulled around to shield the child from the heat of the twin suns. He saw the child growing older as the Jedi Master devoted his life to protecting the youngster, even if it was to be only from a distance. He even saw a visibly aged Obi-Wan facing off with Maul, weapon drawn as he immediately decided that the former Sith Lord could not be allowed to threaten Luke, and could not be allowed to leave Tatooine alive. He saw Obi Wan frightening away Tusken Raiders and fighting off thugs to keep Luke from harm.

He saw Obi-Wan as Luke had seen him, in a light that reminded him of Qui Gon. The old Jedi Luke had affectionately known as Ben had been a wise and compassionate mentor to Luke. Their time together had been brief, and the knowledge he had passed onto Luke had been limited, but it had made all the difference. Luke had seen Obi-Wan as a mentor, a friend, and a father, and just as Maul had robbed him of Qui Gon, he, consumed by Vader’s rage, had robbed his son of Obi-Wan.

The design of his weapon was more than just a continuation of the old Jedi tradition, where an apprentice modeled their weapon after their master’s as a sign of respect. It was a symbol of the impact Obi Wan had made on Luke’s life as a Jedi and, perhaps more importantly, as a person. And Anakin had been responsible for tearing that connection apart.

With an effort that nearly brought him down to his knees, Anakin reached out and summoned the weapon. It landed in his remaining hand, slung over Luke’s shoulder.

“Yes, you could build a new one,” Anakin said. “But you don’t need to.” If Luke simply built another lightsaber, he may feel obligated to use Anakin’s old weapon as a template this time. He vaguely knew he would have been immensely pleased at that notion once, but his ego was no more. Luke was what mattered now, and Luke needed his connection to Ben Kenobi and his teachings more than he needed some obligation to a father who had been so lost in his own rage and hatred that he had needed his son’s love to end his reign of terror.

“You must always keep this with you, Luke. You must understand,” Anakin paused as he spoke. A final, stray memory of Obi-Wan came to mind as he spoke, one of countless lectures he had been forced to endure, but would now give anything to be able to hear again, and for the first time in twenty-three years, Anakin Skywalker truly smiled.

“This weapon is your life.”

#star wars #jedi master #luke skywalker #anakin skywalker #anakin and obi wan #clone wars #jedi knight #obi wan kenobi #old ben kenobi #ben kenobi #luke and anakin #luke and obi wan #vader #lord vader #darth vader #emperor palpatine #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #death star #lightsabers #lightsaber #headcanon #star wars headcanons #sith lord #sith order #jedi tradition #jedi order #new jedi order #darth maul #qui gon jinn

[purgetrooperfox]

hi! I'm new here, could I possibly get a sparknotes about your oc's? -🍉

hello! welcome! I'll do my best to condense some of my guys lol I've been meaning to post some character sheets on here so maybe this will be the kick into gear I need. you can find my oc fics on ao3 (same username) in a collection on my profile as well!

putting some of my more Frequently Mentioned sw ocs under the cut!

Nocte (he/him) is my Coruscant Guard CMO

he was trained to be the designated medic for an ARF squad, but extenuating circumstances at the start of the war resulted in his assignment to the Guard. acting as CMO means he doesn't get much field exposure but he's well-trained for it when need be

back on Kamino, he thought the Coolest thing one could be was a Mandalorian. he did not, however, like many of the Mandos he met

he's loyal (sometimes to a fault) to family and generally distrustful of politicians

he has a soft spot a mile wide for kids and shinies. very protective of them. like. extremely protective

buddies with Fox. vaguely disapproving of most things Thire does. knows Monnk and Wolffe from when they were all cadets

he has a bit of a reputation for recklessness in his personal life. work hard and play hard amiright

a year and change(ish) into the war, he starts a uhhhh kinda sorta relationship with Kit Fisto. bear with me on that, I swear it makes sense and I'm actively working on a fic with the context. in some (several) verses, he gets into a relationship with both Kit and @/spacerocksarethebestrocks' Dara. and sometimes @/penguinkiwi's Ashe is mixed in too

he's close like 🤞 with @/dilf-archivist's Saleese. she's the only Senator he trusts

after the rise of the Empire, he watches the slow disintegration of his unit until his chip errodes, shorts, and he's killed in the process of breaking some of the younger troopers out :)

he can be friends with your OC too 👉👉

Uj'alayi (he/him) is an ARC trooper

[R art cred: @/maiseey]

initially assigned to work with the Jedi Shadows. he was kind of cocky, and butted heads pretty hard with Quinlan at first. they made a good team once they got on the same page.

about halfway through the war, he suffered a Traumatic Incident, nearly died, lost his arm, nearly died again (via decommission), ended up with the Guard. in the new role, he works primarily with animal handling and occasionally takes the odd assignment with the Shadows on the side

tbh his personality changes a lot after the Incident, in ways I can't concisely explain in a blurb

he's generally pretty easy-going, quick to laugh and joke, gets along well with most people on a surface level

avoidance through humor was always one of his coping mechanisms, but it comes out in force after the Incident

occasionally goes back to Tipoca to help train new batches of ARCs and argue with Alpha-17

once he decides he trusts someone, it takes a Lot to shake that

he gets purge-troopered after the rise of the Empire and gets a squad of stormtroopers to oversee

your OC will have to put in work to be his friend 😔

Lān'drien "Lane" Hurosa (they/them) is a journalist on Coruscant

they're from Ryloth (b. 48BBY) and claim to have used the experience of growing up there amid significant political and social turmoil as motivation to get into reporting

sticking their nose where it doesn't belong has gotten them in a not insignificant amount of trouble, which is how they first met Quinlan Vos

their work puts them in proximity to the Senate fairly regularly and they're usually good at networking among them, regardless of their personal politics. there are exceptions to this though

friends with Saleese <3

they're pretty skeptical of the Jedi tbh. kind of just squinting at them over steepled fingers like "okay you say you're not beholden to politics but..."

Quinlan introduces them to Uj early in the war and the rest is history (they're together off-and-on until order 66 and the fall of the Republic)

several years later, they join up with the Rebellion. I haven't hammered out all the details yet but they get to be Ezra's weird old uncle (gn)

they do have that fuckign Rylothian (French) accent and I think it's hilarious

they'll be friends with your OCs if they aren't dirtbags 😌

Bastra Vargdan (he/they) is a Jedi Investigator

[I borrowed his undercover outfit from mk erron black]

he was born (57BBY) and lived on Dathomir until he was like six y/o. Dooku was the one to scoop him and take him back to the Temple, at the behest of his community. fun fact, he went back to Dathomir to get his tattoos done by someone in his village, per tradition

he's in Quinlan's age/crèche group

he's a known buddy and bully (affectionate) of Obi-Wan Kenobi

Sifo-Dyas took him as a Padawan. Dooku had varying levels of influence over his training by proxy, which included making sure he's at least proficient in Makashi. his primary 'saber form is a blend of Djem So and Shien (V)

he was Knighted by Mace Windu after a three-year solo mission undercover with a gang of slavers in the Outer Rim. Sifo-Dyas was only able to act as his remote liason, and only for a year before he died. one of Bastra's home visits was for the funeral

he's been assigned big brother to @/certified-anakinfucker's Omura

when she comes of age, he takes @/certified-anakinfucker's Kimni as a Padawan (Kimni is kinda sorta our joint OC now I guess???)

a lot of his spare time before taking Kimni on was spent in the crèche, helping out with the littles

his role during the war flits between backing Obi-Wan up in leading the 7th Sky Corps and investigative work. he is less than impressed by this. especially the part where he's supposed to bring his Padawan to the frontline

he spends. basically his entire tenure after getting Knighted fighting with himself. let's say he touched the Dark during a low point and has to work to keep it at bay for the rest of his life. and he manages not to Fall

he survives Order 66 by the skin of his teeth and goes into hiding. he does some merc work and bounty hunting to get by, but steers clear of the Core

the Inquisition catches up to him in the end and he dies in Imperial custody on Nur in 14BBY

he'll be friends with your OCs ✌️

#I'm not proofreading this sorry #they're not particularly consistent in length but here are some lol #leocs #clone medic nocte #arc trooper uj'alayi #lane hurosa #bastra vargdan #i have others but i yell about these the most #asks answered #🍉 anon

[delkios]

For those of you RepComm fans that also like game dev talk, here's a podcast done by Brett Douville and Tim Longo (lead programmer and director, respectively) in 2020, playing through the game and also bringing in some of the other devs to interview. I'll put links and a brief synopsis of each one.

Part One (no guest/playthrough) Discussion notes: giving context around the time via other released games and consoles, what squad based gaming was like at the time, developing the idea for RepComm, discussing the opening sequence and lightly touching in Geonosis

Part Two (no guest/playthrough) Discussion notes: the lack of information re: clone organization/GAR structure, playing through Geonosis, discussions about weapons, the Prosecutor, details on scav droids, trandoshians and AI communication and scattered talk about difficulty levels

Part Three (no guest/playthrough) Discussion notes: George Lucas's input on differentiating between clones and lack of humor, talking about voice acting/recording process, going through Kashyyk, technology limitations, level flaws and working with a small dev team, difficulty level (particularly the bridge), using level design to make the AI seem smarter, some info on the books, toys/the game's surprise success, minor talk about plans for a sequel, Delta's cameo in the Clone Wars

David Collins and Jesse Harlin (voice director and composer) Discussion notes: the state of game music/composers/audio at the time, RepComm devs working with audio from the beginning, music changes depending on how you enter a room, sounds from the game being reused in other Star Wars media, Jesse and his girlfriend/now wife developing 'ancient Mandalorian'/Mando'a, 'kote' confirmed to be Cody (specifically Jesse's sister), battle sounds on Geonosis, questioning the use of Ash/no guitars in Star Wars, multiplayer a late addition

Harley Baldwin (level designer) Discussion notes: the unique culture of the RepComm dev team, a stealth level intended in Kashyyk, Prosecutor's atmosphere, difficulty spikes designed to emphasis squad importance/level designers are not good measures for difficulty, Kashyyk designed to be a culmination of the player's experience and knowledge, squad moving ahead of the player due to playtest concerns, easter egg in the texture editor

Greg Knight and Paul Pierce (concept artist and UI artist) Discussion notes: devoted concept artists weren't common at the time but proven to save development time, the entire team contributed to ideas for concept art, influences for the design of the HUD, decision to make the game entirely first person/immersion driving UI design, weapons as a 'character', differences in RepComm's design notes vs movies' games, enemies mean different things between Jedi and clone troopers, noting similarities between RepComm and Rogue One, RepComm's low profile allowed them to get away with more, hangars in Prosecutor meant to progressively make the player more desperate and AT-TE a reward for surviving, Kashyyk's bridge was meant to be the 'boss battle', the concept of 'the squad is your weapon/the squad is your health'

Dave Bogan (lead animator) Discussion notes: working title 1138, 'what is the enemy doing when they don't know you're there', aiming to compete with Halo, every enemy had to act and move differently, expanding on the SpecOps special feature video, game mechanics/logic vs how things are actually done, the wookie-kill animation that got cut, RepComm influencing the tone of Star Wars games/more non-Jedi games, book recommendation based on RepComm, a bug in multiplayer that didn't get fixed apparently allowed co-op???

Tim Longo and Brett Douville (director and lead programmer) Discussion notes: no real talk directly about RepComm that hasn't already been covered but some good conversations about communication and team work

Jeremie Talbot (character lead) Discussion notes: nobody knew what they were doing, just wanted to make it as cool as they could, the use of tiger teams who fixed various problems, all the devs wanted to make the game fun to play and shared ideas, BABY ARMS, raindrops on the HUD for a dollar, having people with knowledge between programmers and artists to communicate, talking about trailers, not being too devoted to following storyboards, talking about the opening sequence, fans often bring up the opening, despite LucasArts's shake up RepComm team felt distant from it, there for the team and the game first and the company second, needing a mix of veteran and new devs

Honestly I'd been trying to listen to these for, like, two years but I kept going through cycles of remembering it when I didn't have the time to listen how I wanted to and keeping it in the back of my mind until I'd forget and then re-finding it in my bookmarks. I don't really remember how I came upon it- rabbit hole falling, I'd guess -and thought I'd share it around to other fans that likely hadn't come across it, either.

For add fun, here's a RepComm stream Brett Douville did around 2015 where he also interviewed people that worked on it. Unfortunately I can't find the first part on either his youtube or twitch pages but there's still three others. Note that there's some repeated information so I'll only mention anything new

Part 2 w/ Daron Stinnett and Jesse Harlin (executive producer and composer) Discussion notes: (Daron's audio is pretty quiet in comparison to Brett's) talking about how and why RepComm came about, deliberately tucked the team away so execs wouldn't bother them, when prequels came out it seemed like LucasArts wanted a game in each genre, 'not Star Wars enough', pointing out a couple name drops in the Prosecutor briefing, originally had no John Williams music, setting music cues in levels/'here comes stinky', the thought process behind developing Mando'a, didn't have an AI to deal with non-commando clones which is why they're scripted to die, even though you love the game while making it you're sick of it by the time it's finished, original voices were sound-alikes, Fixer/Advisor's VA was the only one that didn't get recast, a cut level was a Geonosian church, talking of different instrumentation between levels,

Part 3 w/ Nathan Martz (enemy AI programmer) Discussion notes: (Nathan's audio is ESPECIALLY quiet) talking about how Geonosian enemies 'choose' points to jump to, good AI is about cheats/build the world so the characters can be smart, scav droids were originally more lethal and were nerfed to not do certain behaviors if you're not looking at them, it's very easy to make a difficult AI, it's harder to make an AI that's challenging and fun, setting up common AI behaviors to work modularly and wanting to make finishing moves for the wookies equals the squad being able to do finishing moves, 'the most important thing an enemy does is die'/making interesting deaths, talk about lighting challenges, LucasArts got a new president halfway through RepComm's production, didn't understand the game but allowed it to continue, sequel talk, devs wanted to have co-op but was unable to

Part 4 w/ David Collins (voice director) Discussion notes: (I am very jealous of the shirt Brett is wearing in this video) David did the all the Trandoshian vocalizations and the radio chatter, a lot of ideas behind RepComm went into the Clone Wars series, originally the squad didn't have names only numbers, talk about casting VAs and working with Temuera, squad banter/'if you want your AI to be smart you need to make them sound smart', special features existed in order to have unlockables, George Lucas was apparently quite fond of the game

#republic commando #game development #dev talk

[axelzp]

Ya Know What? I Love Art.

As such, I feel it's time to recommend my favorites from the internet. Enjoy!

GC-Conceptart

Do you like soldiers? Do you like mil-sci? Do you look at Clone Troopers and Halo marines and occasionally Gondor soldiers and just fall in love? This is the channel for you.

Deer-Head

Come for the Jedi/SW OC’s, stay for the insane fucking range of designs from their recent commission work. It’s all beautiful, like god-damn.

esorkzassingonzalez

Stormtroopers. Clone troopers. You like stormies? You like clones? Good, because every damn one is here and then a few hundred more. If you’re looking to see just how creative you get with a blank canvas of white armor, this is it.

WhoKneeDavid

Similar to the above, an absolute smorgasbord for any fan of the armored legions far, far away.

ThePrydonian

Now, replace Stormtroopers with Daleks, and you get this delightful collection, an album of love-letters to Terry Nation’s evil little pepperpots. Hell, they’ve even provided designs for the Big Finish covers!

Kianamaiart

Always find it funny when artists with actual, official artist jobs just, ya know, post fanart of their crackship. In this case: Jesse/Ash’s Mom Delia from Pokemon. It’s all quite cute, and the art itself is really cool.

DanSchkade

Come for the best webcomic on LINE Webtoon (Lavender Jack, of course), stay for the loving tributes to a bygone age of comics, with a bit of pointed humor alongside. An absolute treat, especially for DC fans.

Dragonith

The best, the best, of the various FUSE-Corp Pokemon artists. Near endless combinations of Pokemon means endless creativity, and combined with how each one has an actual stat sheet? Just so goddamn impressive.

ultimatemaverickx

Some fandoms, by virtue of their media’s setting, lend themselves to a wide range of artistic creativity. Mega Man is certainly one of them, and this is where that creativity funnels into. So. Many. Alters! It’s like the mashup action-figure channel of Deviantart, and it’s amazing.

oni18064

I’ve noticed them often on the periphery of original designs for Marvel characters, but after further investigation, this shit is awesome. Enough characters for a whole new continuity, with some really deep cuts and some fascinating changes and unique choices (love it when you can tell which parts of the MCU a person liked and which they ignored). Absolutely adore it now, a definite look for any Marvel fan.

zarla

If it were just the silly, cute and often sad art from Team Fortress 2, Deltarune, Metal Gear and Half-Life, I'd already love this one. But they had to go above and beyond, and that’s where Handplates comes in. A real long-runner of a fan comic, detailing a potential history of Sans, Papyrus, and W.D. Gaster. An absolute treat that recently ended, a definite recommend for Undertale fans.

TheGraffitiSoul

This guy. This fucking guy. Twitter is where you find most of his art nowadays, but holy shit. The most fascinating and brilliant Gemsona out there. An entire Chapter’s worth of Space Marine designs. Tons of amazing Mandalorian and various Star Wars characters. Just…it’s all so detailed and elegant and there are whole backstories for them and I love it all so much.

#I love them your honor #star wars #clone troopers #stormtroopers #halo #jedi oc #daleks #pokemon #undertale #handplates #mega man #marvel #steven universe #40k #adeptus astartes

[zoanzon]

Brain trying to figure out how to describe how much I love what Across the Spiderverse did in continuing past the happy/hopeful ending ITVS left and like...one of the ways I feel like the Star Wars Sequel Trilogy royally fucked up in continuing past the happy/hopeful ending we get in the Original Trilogy.

Like...ATSV as a coming-of-age novel, where Miles learns that the fight he fought to change his destiny -- “No Expectations” -- when he was 14 is still a fight he has to do when he’s 15, and not a thing that’s finished. It’s a fight he’ll be fighting for the rest of his life, because life doesn’t wrap up so nicely to let you slay the expectations on you once and be done with it. But it’s hopeful too, because its not like the events in the first work don’t matter -- he changed the shape of his destiny, and trying to say he shouldn’t have done so is a think the entire work seems determined to address and strike down -- and it’s...it’s a fight he’ll have to fight, but he’s fighting for a better future and he’s not alone.

But...I know that the Original Trilogy was in some ways a warning and reskin of its own contemporary fascism (’stormtroopers’ and such) and that the Sequel Trilogy also directly parallels our own contemporary alt-right movements, but...it tells it in such a bitter way, is the best way I can word that. The Jedi rise from the ash...and then are stomped again, before we ever see them. The marriage of two of our characters is a mess whose son becomes the face of the enemy, and royally fucks up the life of the third main character. Everything that was fought for in the last story was made pointless, in a way.

And...I don’t know how to properly break down why the first story works while the second doesn’t. And yes, the Sequel Trilogy leaked more than a sieve with its design issues, but...even underneath that, there’s a degree of...either scope to the story or just what they’ve done to make the successes of the prior work be completely invalidated that just...feel bad.

#god hopefully i manage to follow up on this at some point #the monkey speaks #rambling about meta analysis while on the porch #star wars #into the spider verse #across the spiderverse #sculpting a story narrative

[wafflesrisa]

Obi-Wan vs Anakin, a decade later: the cinematography of a duel

The final duel between Obi-Wan and Anakin in the last episode of the Kenobi series is rife with cinematographic echoes of Episode III: The Revenge of the Sith. The similarities and differences in the framing and the lighting were designed to rip our bleeding hearts out act as either callbacks or foils to the devastating events of Anakin’s fall to the Dark.

Night has fallen. Obi-Wan stands sentinel against a backdrop of tall stone spires; an echo of the spires of the Jedi Temple, or the craggy volcanic pillars of Mustafar. Vader - Anakin - advances across a plain towards Obi-Wan, just as he strode across the flat Temple square on that fateful day. Here is Anakin Skywalker, here once again to bring death to the Jedi by his own blade.

But there is one key difference. In The Revenge of the Sith, the shot of Anakin advancing is framed from above, with Anakin flowing ominously up the steps towards his increasing power. A decade later, the shot is framed horizontally with Vader walking towards the left - a cinematographic tool commonly used to show a character slipping backwards into the past. Vader is walking towards Obi-Wan - he is also walking back into his own memory of the day he slaughtered the Jedi.

The duel begins, and each clash of their blades is a choreographic callback to their long and painful duel on Mustafar. Then Vader crushes Obi-Wan with the stone spires - symbolically burying him under the ghost of the Jedi Temple that burned and crumbled on that day.

And how does Obi-Wan find the strength to rise again? He thinks of the younglings (“Not even the younglings survived!”). Leia. Luke. The Force comes roaring from within, and he rises from the ashes. Obi-Wan takes the symbolic crumbled foundations of the long-lost temple and hurls them at Vader’s head.

At long last, Vader’s helmet is cracked in two, Vader is down on one knee. They’ve been here before. The burning yellow eye that meets Obi-Wan’s gaze is Anakin’s, twisted with hatred on the shores of the lake of fire long ago on Mustafar. The angle of the shot of Anakin’s broken posture and Obi-Wan’s look of heartbroken pain is an exact replica of the shot in Revenge of the Sith.

But the dialogue is painfully different. Then - “I hate you!” - “You were my brother Anakin. I loved you.” Now - “The same way I will destroy you!” - “Then my friend is truly dead. Goodbye, Darth.” Vader is trapped in the same moment of hatred as he was all those years ago. Obi-Wan has moved on. He accepts that the friend he loved is dead. Anakin is gone. Only Darth Vader remains.

And once again, a weeping Obi-Wan leaves Vader staggering in the dirt, howling with pain and anger. After all this time, Obi-Wan still cannot bear to kill him. There is too much quiet sorrow. There is too much pained love.

#star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #darth vader #kenobi series #kenobi series spoilers #meta #the revenge of the sith #i am in actual shambles over this scene #the acting was heart wrenching #the tears and the horror and the grief in obi-wan’s eyes #the simmering anger and despair in vader’s gaze #i cannot even

[iconac]

If Revan had the chance to decide on/design their own burial site, what would they choose? What kind of funeral would they wish to have?

revan has given a lot of thought about how they will die. death and sacrifice are two concepts that often go hand-in-hand with jedi. for all their talk of peace and harmony, jedi seem to die more often than they pass away, and that is not a truth any are ever taught to shy away from. [ death is such a small impediment. ] revan at a young age came to idealize their eventual death as something full of sacrifice, laying down their life so others might live, but deep in their bones they have always suspected their death would be at another's hand.

revan has not given a lot of thought about what comes after. to their body, at least. in this they once again eerily mirror the mandalorian culture; their body is a vessel, nothing more. when they die, it will be left behind. meat and bone and sinew, doing what all organic matter does; breaking down. for a long time, if pressed on the issue, they imagined themselves cremated like many of the order; their ashes interred with those who came before, leaving space for those who will follow. during the war they imagined being lost, buried under rubble so deep none could retrieve their body, or scattered across eight parsecs in billions of atomized pieces. [ they had joked with malak about it on more than one occasion, each promising the other a statue and memorial service that only got increasingly ostentatious and tacky with every iteration of the conversation. ] and when things changed, when the future became not something to be saved but something to be built with their own bloody hands, they stopped caring. what happened after they died, they surmised, was entirely up to the one who managed to kill them and inherit their legacy. [ because the lesson they teach must last beyond their death, their purpose must echo down the generations like a curse. they may die but they will leave a scar behind that will take millennia to heal. pain is a teacher, after all. ]

[ they do not imagine being mourned. ]

[ they do not imagine being forgotten, either. ]

if revan could choose, they imagine themself buried in the seas of their homeworld. cast deep into the abyss and slowly devoured, a small oasis for an ecosystem surviving on the barren ocean floor. giving life in darkness, one last time. but they do not imagine themself being able to choose.

#local maine lobsterman hauls up sith artifacts in lobster cage #revan would emotionally like a small ceremony for friends #but they figure they'll die horribly and that'll be that #what matters isn't them as a person it's what they were trying to do #their feelings don't matter! #as long as their ideas live on there's no need for a funeral #they are a vessel. a mouthpiece. a mask. #flesh and bone to be left behind to rot #yes revan is incredibly arrogant yes revan places little value on themself they're all about duality baby #anyway thnaks for this i was tempted to just make an arg joke #INCOMING. #↘ ]⠀canon.⠀:⠀born of the clatter of bone against blade.

[jedi-kat-18]

📓!!

 So originally, I was gonna make a list of all the Pacific Rim ideas floating in my brain, as well as the LOTR and Neon Genesis Evangelion/Monsterverse ones, but I realized that would be way, way too long.  And since I’ve been on a Star Wars kick recently, I’ve decided to share an idea that’s been in my brain since I first saw Return of the Jedi when I was 12. In a previous post, I mentioned how much I loved Darth Vaders’ redemption, and how angry his death made me. I think that exploring the consequences of his turn back to the Light is far more interesting than just killing him off.   So imagine for a moment, that Return of the Jedi goes almost exactly the same, except for how the Emperor dies. Maybe he gets Force-pushed down the reactor shaft instead of picked up and tossed, maybe Vader throws his lightsaber and chops him in half, maybe his lightning is reflected back at him and he gets scorched into ash. I’m not really sure of the details, and I don’t really care, as long as it means Vader’s suit isn’t fatally damaged, but he still needs medical attention like... right now.   At some point between the exploding Death Star 2 and Endor, Vader loses consciousness.   So Luke barges into the Rebel command ship, injured, frantic, and hauling Darth freaking Vader out of a stolen Imperial shuttle. And he’s not going anywhere until Darth freaking Vader gets medical attention. Like, he actually refuses to let anybody treat his obvious symptoms of electrocution until he’s sure that nobody’s gonna immediately cart his dad off to the firing squad.    And now some poor Rebel medical team has to treat Darth freaking Vader for various electricity and lightsaber related injuries. In the process of doing this, they realize that, oh wait, his “life support” suit is a nightmare contraption that looks like it wasn’t actually designed to reduce pain in any meaningful way it (it absolutely wasn’t).  While they wait for the anesthesia to wear off, one of them starts drawing up blueprints.   When he wakes up, Vader is surprised, to put it mildly. Mostly because he didn’t expect to wake up at all.  The Emperor is dead. Everything he dedicated the past 20 years of his life to just got blown up. Basically the only human connection he has is Luke. He’s not sure of where he’s supposed to go from here, how he’s going to make up for everything he’s done, or even who is anymore. It’s... gonna take awhile to unpack all of that.  So if I ever actually wrote this, which is unlikely, I think it would have to be a series, because I want to tackle 1) how Vader/Anakin heals and grows and becomes a better person, and his relationship with his kids, 2) Luke running around the galaxy trying to rebuild the Jedi Order, which is gonna be hard since there aren’t many Jedi left, 3) Leia and the other Rebel leaders trying to rebuild the Republic, and arguing about how they should do it, and 4) The remnants of the Empire making all of the above incredibly difficult. There is no way I could tackle all of that in a single fic.

#star wars #vader lives au

[trashquisitor-shirozora]

for the deep fic writer asks: 2, 10, 16 & 19

2. what’s a fic that took you to an emotional/dark/hard place?

Oh god. I'm gonna have to go back quite a few years but I wrote two fics that I have a hard time revisiting. I really need to edit one, though, because I made a creative decision that didn't work.

A Deafening Distance is a Supernatural fic where Dean said yes to Michael, and Sam and Cas are left to pick up the pieces. There is a mini cast of OCs and I thought it would be funny to name the OCs after the actors but some people found it disorienting. I keep meaning to change that but I haven't been able to visit this fic and I posted it in 2010.

Wishing Well was a Cap Kink Meme fill back when kink memes were a huge thing on LJ. It's a CATFA fic and the prompt was "kissing lessons" and it's from Howard Stark's POV and I kept the ending the same as the movie so it was... it's really sad? But it's a good kind of sad, if that makes sense.

P.S. The ficmix I made for this fic still wrecks me.

10. how has writing positively impacted your mental health or overall mood?

All I can say is, if I can't write I'll go fucking mad. My brain is always on its bullshit. I maybe spent late elementary through early middle school obsessing over 1 ginormous crossover fic that I wrote in my head; it had its own soundtrack and score and the character voices I swear were on point and it was all I could think about. I still remember it all these years later because I never wrote it down. It seared itself in my head. Being able to write is like venting a pressure cooker and keeps me sane and focused.

16. Do you re-read old fics? Is there a time in your writing you won’t go back to?

I will not touch anything I wrote and posted to FFN. I refuse. But I'll re-read old fics I posted to AO3. I spent hours tracking down all my old Transformers fics in my old external HDDs to read and feel sad over the stories I wanted to tell but couldn't. I'll revisit the massive Tronfic that imo changed my life forever and is still my personal standard that I am always reaching for with my newer fics. I'll also click the back button on some of my fics because those stories just don't cut it for me anymore. It's nice to look back on your older work to see what held up, what didn't, what trends you kept, and how much you changed since you posted those fics.

19. If you could write an ideal fic, what would it include?

My ideal fic would have a deliciously slow burn romance against a plotty backdrop steeped in political conflicts and sociopolitical change/revolution. I think that's one of the reasons why I'm still going so hard and heavy for dinluke; I get so insane just thinking about the parallels between Din and Luke and their respective cultures/heritages, the play on "enemies to lovers" but on a generational scale where Din heard stories, where Mandalorian armor and weapons are designed to fight the Jedi, and Luke? Knows not enough because he has nothing but the teachings of two Jedi ghosts, whatever he can scavenge and salvage of the Jedi Order, stories from people who still remember the Jedi. Din is of an endangered people and Luke is of a nearly extinct people, and while Din tripped and fell into being the wielder of the Darksaber, Luke chose to try to reclaim and rebuild the Order. And they only crossed paths because Din sacrificed his covert for a Jedi youngling and went through hell to reunite Grogu with his kind. It's insane. They're insane. They drive me insane.

I am also so endlessly fascinated by this post-war galaxy, the rippling consequences of the Empire's downfall, the generational conflict between people who grew up while the Empire was in power vs. people who remembered the last years of the Galactic Republic, the struggles of a New Republic building on the ashes of the Empire and memories of the Galatic Republic, all the cartels and crime syndicates/organizations rushing in to get theirs, the displaced peoples either trying to come home or make a place for themselves in a turbulent galaxy, etc, etc, etc.

Uh. Yeah. I'm that kind of fic writer/fandom person.

Fuck that was a really long answer, oops.

Play ask games, win ask prizes.

#shirozora awkwardly responds to asks #can i tag this dinluke #i'm gonna tag this #dinluke #because I will ramble forever and a half about why this ship just clicks for me #especially against this post-war backdrop like #i go fucking feral just thinking about it #which is why I'm writing a fucking trilogy working out my feels about all of this #keep it small by watching the galaxy from din's headspace but allow a glimpse into the greater galaxy's struggles #i fucking love this shit #this is why i fucking love Andor. that show just fucking does it for me #the way the first two seasons of The Mandalorian did it for me #sorry to TBOBF and Kenobi #Kenobi was fine but didn't do enough #meanwhile I have so much beef with TBOBF it almost rivals my fucking seething hatred for TLJ #ANYWAY #the other fics i mentioned exist on AO3 though I really need to sit down and edit that SPN fic #it really deserves a second pass

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 46

All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2/The Satan Pit

Can you imagine arbitrarily scheduling the gates of Hell to open in two of your shows in one night?

"All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2"

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: Not counting this one. No one died. Sam was already dead.

What if every time I hit a season finale (from season 3 on), the only song I could consciously play (while also forgoing my podcasts) was Carry On Wayward Son? Considering how little I've listened to music this year so far, I'm...thinking that might make it my TOP. SPOTIFY. SONG. OF. THE. YEAR. Should I do that? What if I made a poll? Should I make a poll? I'm gonna make a poll. (I have made a poll, and at time of posting 69% of voters want me to)

OMG OMG OMG. I'm just...Dean's literally lost his whole family at this point and the purpose in life John gave him (protect Sam). It's no wonder he's acting like this and lashing out and saying to Hell with the world.

I want to hug him so badly. FUCK. He thinks he's nothing but a failure. (Oh. oh no.)

Okay, but literally getting in your car when you're like this is probably the WORST thing you could have chosen to do...oh, good. Driving to where you know there's a crossroads demon to make a deal with. Excellent decision making skills there, buddy.

Oh, so this is why Dean has to die at the end of next season...coolcoolcoolcoolcoolcoolcool. Like, I remembered he did (it's how we get Cas), and I kind of guessed he made a deal for one year once I saw where he drove to.

*inhuman noises of angst* The lying and secret keeping...it's both so good and at the same time terrible. And Dean's look of shame when he brought Sam to Bobby's. Oof. Sayin' Sam got better like he'd only been turned into a newt or something

OOOOOOOOO Dean's about to catch and ABSOLUTE EARFUL.

Why do I latch on so tightly to characters who call themselves failures and who don't think their life has meant anything? Whose dads put that thought there? (Though, they take WILDLY different stances on their younger brothers.) On second thought, don't answer that.

THAT'S IT THOUGH, DEAN!!! THAT'S WHAT I WAS THINKING IMMEDIATELY!!! YOU TELL HIM, BOBBY!!! Like, yeah, you brought Sam back, but you're also gonna leave him all alone like you were. And then the way Dean reverts to being such a little kid "please don't tell him."

Poor Ellen...also, poor Ash. Like...we didn't get enough of him. (Ellen's at least still alive though)

I love the "figuring this shit out" portions, where the viewer, by design, realizes what's going on half a second before it gets said out loud. It's beautiful

Who...who does this yellow eyed demon actor remind me of? He's a little bit Jack Nicholson, but who else?

Oh Jakey boy. Wrong move. Shoulda shot him.

Uh oh. UH OH. "I cut clean through your spinal cord. You can't be alive."

I hate how these powers corrupt everyone who gets them (except Sam, apparently).

Ok. Now this is literally overkill, Sam. You didn't have to do THAT. The powers might not have corrupted you, but SOMETHING happened.

He seems like such an insurmountable obstacle...what with the Jedi powers and being just an all powerful demon in the first place...

Hey...coming back to some shit from earlier. They're self-destructive too. How wonderful of me to cling to them so hard.

Look. I still don't like John, but damn if I don't respect him showing up to save his boys.

Good on you, Sammy, digging deeper into what happened. UGH. Don't LIE to him. DON'T LIE TO HIM, DEAN.

Don't look at me, but I'm definitely not sobbing. Totally not crying like a baby.

"Been On My Mind...": haahahahahahahahhahahahahaahahhaahaha. No. Best I can offer you this time 'round is the kiss to seal the deal with the crossroads demon when Dean sold his soul.

"The Satan Pit"

Like...literally just all gates to Hell opening up tonight. (I guess this one started a couple nights ago, but nothing's proven coming out yet.)

OOOOOOOO science officer going rogue? Girlie. Just like Sam's mercy and kindness got him killed, this crew's curiosity is gonna get them killed.

It's so unlike him to say he's not gonna explore, he's not gonna go further. THIS. This does terrify him. I was right. Every little thing, starting with the text that even the TARDIS couldn't translate, has a Time Lord scared. All that AND Jackie Tyler's wrath? Would be enough for me, too.

Did...did we know this crew worked for Torchwood before now?? I feel like that's also an important tidbit that they held out on

Look. I don't like Toby either, but DAMN. At least most of your other drags seemed like something they DID or some TRUE failure. The worst you could dig up on Toby is that he's never had sex? Gtfo.

Amazing how everyone just lets Rose and the Doctor take over command of anything and everything. Sure they're right the vast majority of the time, or they eventually figure out how to get to the right answer, but Rose just really took over command of this station to get the Doctor and the science officer back. She's the one giving everyone, including the acting captain, orders.

Man, Doctor...maybe not the urge to fall...perhaps just the urge to saunter vaguely downward. That might be just a little safer

There's little sadder than listening to someone who knows they're about to die. Not pleading for their life, but asking for their death to be on their own terms, to not have the worst things they can imagine happen

Oh god. Toby's not free of it.

I hope they didn't KILL the Ood. Just incapacitated them. It's not THEIR fault.

Mmmmm, just asking questions, are we? This visual is terrifying. Just the Doctor against an absolute void.

Rose deciding to stay and the acting captain not allowing her. I get both sides, but fuck it hurts

MAYBE WE DON'T TOUCH THOSE VASES.

I love when the Doctor is the antithesis of a Bond villain. He'll spend several minutes monologuing his enemy's whole plan.

"If I believe in one thing, I believe in her" okay, yeah. that IS (slightly unconventionally) romantic.

It's so crazy that they kill the LITERAL devil in this episode.

#hellsite nostalgia tour 2023 #tonight's episodes really putting the HELL in hellsite nostalgia tour

[dragonbabezee]

Fictional Crush Series No. 10

Now, hear me out.

You probably don’t know this about me, but I was born into the fug of Star Wars Mania, raised, verily, on the tales of the Galaxy far, far away. I was taken to see The Empire Strikes back at a cinema before I was old enough to wipe my own arse. “Oh, who’s the crush she’s going to talk about?” I hear you thinking. “Is it Luke? Is it Han?” No, friends, it is not. It is in fact...

Anakin Skywalker.

As much as I loved the characters in the original trilogy, for whatever reason I never developed crush levels of fascination with them. Even back then, though, the most fascinating and complicated character in George Lucas’s tale was Darth Vader’s. When he announced that he would be creating a prequel series, that would be a Vader/Anakin origin story, I was primed to go wild. However, the first film of the prequels was of course, The Phantom Menace, that delivered equally on the Wow Factor and the WTF factor. Anakin was a 9 year old boy, and annoying as heck. 

I have a complicated relationship to the prequel trilogy. All three of them deliver great visuals, good looking characters and character designs, fascinating underling themes, broad-stroke compelling plot and character arcs, but all three also deliver overly complicated plots, poorly written pivotal scenes, bad dialogue, bad acting and some unintentionally funny moments. That’s neither here nor there, but I just had to say it. 

I did not particularly crush on Anakin when Attack of the Clones hit the screens, either. I have too many issues with the way he was written in that movie. He was pushy, creepy and entitled during his wooing of Padme. It was amazing that she fell for him, and really, I thought that the movie should have made more of Padme’s possible loneliness and emotional immaturity for someone as worldly and responsible as she to have fallen for him. The girl must have issues if “I killed them all, even the women and children,” doesn’t raise a major red flag.

I guess, in the end they were just really horny for each other, and I can respect that.

Plus there was that terrible rat’s tail hair-do! Unforgivable!

I don’t care. I’d been imagining how their relationship would come about for three years, I could continue reimagining.

However, then came 2005 and The Revenge of the Sith. It was time for my fall for the Dark Side. It is undoubtedly the best of the prequels, and also undoubtedly the best of the Anakin. Here we see him run a gamut of complicated emotional situations making decisions that many of us could imagine making, all inevitably leading him to his darkest place - the liberation and the tyranny of life on the Dark Side. Which is to say, I watched this shaggy, audacious Jedi, who had finally grown into his overconfidence go from this:

to this

to this

to this

My fav and beau was manipulated, emotionally tortured and ultimately mutilated into sacrificing the last of his goodness to protect Padme. Does that make me a horrible person?

And this thing is, Anakin is only a shade off the usual characterisation of a hero, but that’s not where he ends up. I could talk all day about how the film fails to properly set up events like the slaughter of the younglings to make it actually believable as a step on the journey, but with my careful mental rewrites I can get behind this story of a character so denied the love and affection he needs a human, that he clings harder to the love he does have than any sane person would. It’s the story of repressed love conquering all, including good, compassion, morality, decency and even the object of the love. A love so fierce it burns everything it touches to ash.

I guess I like a tragic figure. And I guess I like to watch them lose their legs in a lightsaber duel and go up in literal flames. 

But also I liked to watch this gorgeous young man splashed across the silverscreen giving us an amazing performance with his swoon-worthy face. 

Say what you like about the dialogue, but his acting was top notch - Hayden Christiansen, I salute you! 

#fictional crush series #fiction crush #anakin skywalker #star wars #anakin #revenge of the sith