#jedi dropping their shit everywhere

[andrastesgrace]

Mara Jade + tooka cats

There are two Luke Skywalkers.

The farmboy-turned-flyboy in him is a crack shot, can diagnose a problem with her ship faster than any mechanic in the core, and is wickedly funny, when he wants to be. When he remembers he can be.

The Jedi, though - the one who is allergic to colors and smiling, the one who has apparently forgotten that he isn't even thirty years old yet - is a gifted mediator, a skilled warrior, and much to Mara's eternal annoyance, usually right.

He's also a little shit. She'd almost jumped out of her skin last week in her Coruscant docking bay when he just. Appeared. Behind her. Wearing that stupid passive expression and looking at her expectantly, as though she shouldn't have sworn in three languages and nearly sliced him in half with his own father's lightsaber.

"If only someone were willing to train you," he said with a completely straight face. "You might've seen that coming."

Mara called him a bastard, then, and he grinned. She threw a spanner at his head for good measure, but he just stepped aside and asked her if she was hungry.

They ate ribenes from a cart in the lower city, and didn't talk about his thinly veiled request.

He asks less, now, and she's not sure if she's relieved or disappointed. Since the beginning, he's always asked, even back when she wasn't sure if she still wanted to kill him or not. But now, as then, she's wary. Not of him, not really. She's run through every scenario in her head, and she doesn't really think he'd ever truly become a danger. But he also doesn't want to listen to her, either, when she suggests that perhaps, some Jedi teachings of the past should stay in the past.

Deep down, there's something that makes her uncomfortable about the way he can just. Switch off his entire personality like the press of a button. He would never hurt her, but sometimes he isn't him.

So instead of becoming his student, she devotes her time to becoming a pain in his ass. Annoying him is the quickest way to shake him out of it. At first it's just little things - mispronouncing the names of famous podracers, putting pepper in his tea, and once, conspiring with R2-D2 to play nothing but Nemoidian showtunes everywhere he went.

"You're doing this on purpose," he says blithely one afternoon, and she looks at him with an innocent. "Who me?" in her expression. After a while, she needs more ammunition. She means to ask Solo, but when she hunts down the office he never uses in the New Republic's shiny new military complex, Leia is there instead. "Tooka cats," says Leia after she explains her mission.

"Tooka cats?" "He can't even look at them without laughing," The corners of her lips turn up in a half-smile. "Something about the eyes." *** "Are you proud of yourself?" he says when she sees him later, the grin still lingering in his eyes as he lets himself onto the Jade's Fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about." She does. She watched it on the holos, the emergency channel on his datapad pinging as he stood in the background of some very important New Republic something-or-other. The first time, he managed to keep a straight face, but only just. But she didn't just have one. She wasn't an amateur. All in all, she sent him about thirty of the most ridiculous pictures of tooka cats that she could possibly find. They were naturally funny looking creatures - a little too creepy for her taste, with their beady eyes and claws, but something about them made Skywalker take one look at them and forget he was a Jedi at all. The sight of him bursting into giggles on live broadcast while Mon Mothma was trying to give a Very Important Speech is going to keep her going for *years.*

"You're a menace," he says, dropping down next to her where she's examining her ship's tractor beam manifold. Thing's been malfunctioning for months.

"I'm a delight."

Skywalker is quiet for a moment. His bright blue eyes catch on the faulty wiring she's been attempting to finagle into working order since she landed here, and he absently grabs a spanner and begins tinkering.

This close, she doesn't have to reach to feel the shifting current of his emotions. "You are," he says softly. A few twists of his hand and a couple of button presses, and the tractor beam's diagnostics panel is all green. Showoff. "I wish you'd let me train you," he says finally, setting the spanner down beside him. There are no accusation in the words, but she feels the lingering merriment in the Force give way to a dull loneliness. Mara knows why he keeps asking, and it's not because she's any great Jedi talent. She's...fine at it, she supposes, but Skywalker is asking for one thing when he needs another. "I'd be an awful student," she says finally, bumping her shoulder with his, and he gives her his own version of Leia's half-smile . "But I guess I should probably make sure you aren't dead from time to time." He chuckles, and shakes his head. "Yeah, you're my best friend, too."

#fanfic #Star Wars #Star Wars fanfic #Luke Skywalker/Mara Jade #luke/mara #mara jade #as it turns out #more than 20 years later #I am still LukexMara trash

[thecleverqueer]

The more convoluted aspect of “The Wrong Jedi” arc that I struggle with is not why Barriss bombed the temple, but why she opted to frame Ahsoka for it.

Honestly, on the surface level, it makes literally no sense. Based on the few interactions that we do have between Ahsoka and Barriss, they have some sort of magnetic attraction, a clear level of respect, trust, “friendship” and understanding between them. They’re pitched as “close”, but we’re not sure how close because outside of “Weapons Factory”, “Brain Invaders” and a comic where Ahsoka is being a flirty show-off, we don’t see them interact (but as I have elaborated before, based on Ahsoka’s reaction to everything, they were probably much closer than cannon lets on). And, honestly, none of that is relevant unless Barriss is either being made into a springboard to further Ahsoka’s character development, or it somehow plays into her decision to screw Ahsoka over.

So, why frame your friend/ girlfriend?

Truly, I know what cannon says, but I’m not wholly confident that it was Barriss’s intention to frame Ahsoka.

The problems start when Tarkin calls Ahsoka over to speak to Letta at the high security military prison, and then Letta gets force choked on video while Ahsoka is in the room alone with her. I tend to think he and Palpatine had something to do with this chain of events because the sound recorder in the room was not working, and the video alone made Ahsoka look undeniably guilty. I struggle to determine if it was Barriss or Palpatine that did the force choking. Once again, I don’t think it was Barriss’s intent to frame Ahsoka. Barriss wouldn’t likely know that Ahsoka had gone to the prison in the first place. So from the start, I think Ahsoka was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Then, thing spiral… Someone helps Ahsoka escape the prison. Theoretically, Barriss could have been making an attempt to save Ahsoka by breaking her out of jail, but how in the hell did she get into a high security prison to do that without getting caught? I mean, Barriss could have mind-tricked her way into the prison, I guess, taken Ahsoka’s shit from holding, found the prison cell door key card, got caught doing all of that shit, and killed all of those clones which only served to make Ahsoka look guiltier. Bad improvisation? Still, there are security cameras everywhere in the facility. It was all on video, and there is that pesky fact that Tarkin lied to the Jedi council about how Ahsoka actually escaped. So, either way, there was an internal cover-up.

Ahsoka then makes a daring escape into the under city where she contacts Barriss twice, once on her Jedi com-link and once via holo-booth. Barriss seemed legitimately concerned about Ahsoka’s safety and well-being. Barriss, if her goal was to frame Ahsoka, fooled me by the way she and Ahsoka interacted on the calls, especially through the holo-booth call where Barriss looks as though she wants to reach out and touch Ahsoka’s face. Barriss recommends that Ahsoka go to a munitions factory to look for clues to find the real killer. Ahsoka goes. She has Ventress in tow. They fight Plo’s clones in the alleyway. Ahsoka is doing too much. She ALWAYS does too much. It is, once again, only making her look worse.

Finally, we get the scene in the munitions factory. Why did Barriss lure Ahsoka there? This is where everything gets confusing for me, and it gets really complicated for me to work out.

Up until this point, Barriss seemed to just be a willing and cowardly participant in Ahsoka’s downfall. Barriss was “the perfect Padawan”. She didn’t want to own up to her actions, but she seemed to be doing what she could for her girlfriend that was doing too damned much. Why couldn’t Ahsoka get on a ship, fly away and just drop it? What does Barriss decide to do to rectify all of this? She goes and savagely beats the shit out of Ahsoka disguised as Ventress in the factory. The fight is particularly ruthless. Granted, once again, Ahsoka is doing too much, but Barriss is just straight up barbaric in her kicking of Ahsoka’s ass. It’s unfettered rage, and I’m not sure where it comes from. She doesn’t show the same brutality in her fight against Anakin. It’s personal.

Why? Is she THAT frustrated at Ahsoka? Is she THAT upset that Ahsoka won’t let it go? Does she think Ahsoka is boning Ventress and is jealous? Does she want Ventress to take the fall for all of it, and if so, why does she run when the clones show up to take Ahsoka back into custody (conveniently where she fell right into the nano-droid weaponry)? Did Palpatine pull the string? Did he convince her that Ahsoka did something to betray her? Was it mind control? This is where better writing would have been helpful. Why is that fight happening, and why is it happening like THAT? I don’t know.

In closing, I think the framing had more to do with Tarkin and Palpatine trying to get Ahsoka out of the way, and less to do with Barriss who just clearly had no improvisational skills and was terrified of getting into trouble.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #ahsoka and barriss #barriss deserved better #the wrong jedi #the clone wars #sw tcw #star wars tcw #emperor palpatine #grand moff tarkin #barriss offee

[that-gay-jedi]

Really loving this vanilla extract saves Anakin and therefore the Galaxy storyline you've got going on in your polls 😂

Thanks! I got this ask and started writing what I thought would be a few paragraphs and uhhh:

Once upon a time, there was a Jedi named Anakin Skywalker. He was the messiah but he was also a very naughty boy. The fate of the galaxy sat on his shoulders and probably it should have gotten up and sat somewhere else.

Anakin's tastebuds were utterly warped from not cooking bugs before he ate them and from too many years eating ration bars, Obi-Wan's cooking, and unidentified beige squares (the beige squares were, by all accounts, not vanilla flavoured).

Now in those days there was a big ol' war on and nobody was very much pleased. The galaxy had already been circling the drain before the war but now there were overwhelming numbers of droids clanking around everywhere and saying the absolute stupidest shit imaginable or simply repeating "Roger roger" ad nauseam and there was only one way to shut them up (it was with violence).

A lot of very young people who had done absolutely nothing to deserve it died a lot of very gory deaths, all in the name of shutting the droids up. Peaceful civilians turned to refugees and some of the less peaceful ones, or even the simply unlucky, turned to corpses. Oppression and exploitation ran rampant pretty much anywhere that sentients who had anything worth exploiting lacked sufficient money, political clout, or military power to fight back.

When they weren't busy fighting droids, the very young soldiers, doing what young people with too few rights and any shred of free time tend to do, discovered that a number of common baking ingredients had intoxicating or otherwise interesting effects when ingested in unreasonable quantities.

Megnut, for example, one of the central spices in flumpkin spice blends, could in its powdered form be used as a powerful hallucinogen IF one were willing to eat enough of it to hate flumpkin spice until the eventual heat death of the universe. And a spoonful of ground binnamon, though utterly lacking in viability as a drug, was a common enough dare once more conventional intoxicants had already been passed well around as its immense dryness and the immediate violent reactions to its taste were how the physical manifestation of regret entered one's body, hilarious to everyone but the eater.

It was in this manner that the cheapest brands of vanilla extract gained a dubious place of honour on the roster of family-friendly flavourings with a side gig. These contained vanillyl alcohol, ethyl alcohol's gayer, more evil, and more melodramatic cousin, and could get a person blackout drunk within a fairly short amount of time.

Anakin's own legion, the 501st, were no strangers to this sort of experimentation. There were strict orders not to let Anakin set foot in 79's because of an incident that shall remain classified but this did not stop various members of the 501st from getting hammered with him (Anakin also liked to get nailed, but the 501st did not typically join him for it).

Now at a certain point a terrible liquor shortage shook the Republic, and I mean shook. From the most influential senator to the lowest ranking shiny, enough people had been lubricating their sanity with alcohol that Chancellor Palpatine, who was secretly Darth Sidious, who secretly liked spinning in his office chair and tormenting his bodyguards in horrific ways that certainly won't come back to haunt him later, feared rioters on Coruscant would burn the Jedi Temple to the ground before he got a chance to.

And so it was that one fateful evening there was drinking to be done- important drinking, mind you- between battles, but not a drop of drink to be had. No one had flodka, nowhere was selling kniskey, every smuggler was cleaned out of bequila.

There was not, however, any shortage of vanilla extract.

Anakin eyed the bottle more critically than someone who's slurped up a wriggling worm without chewing has any right to, and the men who fought and bled with him appraised him with morbid fascination.

"It's not as bad as you think, sir," said Echo.

"It's worse!" Fives called.

"Quiet, or he'll never drink it."

"Ha! You don't know our general!"

"It can't be any harder to swallow than General Kenobi's-"

"Boys," Anakin cut them off, flattening and raising the palm of his mechanical hand in a gesture for silence.

He unscrewed the white plast cap, the underside of which was stained by the liquid inside. Anakin was pretty sure they were pranking him, but after how bad the last campaign had been, he'd drink it anyway if that's what it took to take their minds off this karking war.

With one last glance sidelong at the label, he tipped the bottle straight to the ceiling and downed its contents in about three expert gulps, then brought his gaze back down to survey each of the men he faced in the dingy little storeroom that currently doubled as command center, rec room, bunker and now bar.

"Whaaa...?"

"I told you!" said Fives.

"You crazy son of a gundark," said Rex.

Having discovered early on that one type of unwanted mental image was an effective cure for another, Anakin gave a satisfied sigh and wiped the corner of his mouth with his gloved right index finger, in a manner juuust provocative enough to invoke the suggestion of having something of General Kenobi's running down his lip instead. The raucous calls from his clone companions assured him he'd hit his mark.

"Get a room, General!" barked Fives, throwing a heavy synthwool sock square against the right side of Anakin's face.

"But Fiivess," said Anakin, suddenly moving and speaking a little more slowly as he took the sock off his face, "you're in it."

Echo stood up rapidly. "Oh kriff, where?"

"Di'kut! Do you actually want to know?"

Rex facepalmed.

Anakin swayed.

He staggered to one of the stacks of boxes, sitting down abruptly on them, knocking over a stack of smaller boxes as he did.

He giggled.

***

Supply lines of normal alcohol had long since been restored by the time Anakin was asked to spy on Chancellor Palpatine, whose hobbies were orchestrating wars in which his dual identities led both sides, using the dark side of the Force, and croquet (he was good at two of the three).

Anakin, however, whose troops had severely underestimated just how warped his tastebuds were, had actually taken a liking to the more flamboyant, eviler alcohol. He still occasionally drank vanilla extract when he wanted to get wasted, sometimes even when there was actual liquor available. It just felt different than being regular drunk, there was no tipsy stage and he'd developed a sick sort of nostalgia for the godawful taste.

Obi-Wan, who had already had his own liver replaced twice due to (non-vanillyl) alcohol consumption since the war began, had very little room to criticize him on it, and even less so while they were busy doing things that would convince Echo his armor would never be clean again if he sat on the same surface. Which they did on nearly every available surface.

Anakin drifted through the streets of a Coruscanti shopping district in a daze. He had been actively avoiding sleep due to the nightmares about people he loved dying, which began whenever he arrived back on Coruscant and receded whenever he was sent to the Mid- or Outer Rim (Darth Sidious arranged these nightmares in the Force during valuable time he could have spent spinning in his office chair, but Anakin didn't know that).

The 501st were currently deployed without him, Obi-Wan and the 212th had already left for Utapau, and the senators Anakin had loosely dubbed "the chaos club" (led by Padme and her friend Bail Organa of Alderaan) were all busy doing senatorial things. Anakin was adrift in a sea of inner conflict and doubts.

The entire row of shops he currently wandered along was too upper class for him, situated in kind of a liminal zone between the Mid Levels and Upper Levels.

He stood out terribly in his plain black and brown Jedi robes and the leather additions that resembled his battle armor just a bit too much for polite company, an uncomfortable reminder to the citizens of Coruscant of the war they'd just as soon block out of their minds with a curtain of shimmersilk and a dozen social calls. But he was enough of a war hero that nobody was daring to say anything.

He kind of wished that at least his weird father figure was in the mood to get drunk. No doubt Palpatine's discerning tastes would involve whiskey that was older than Anakin was and cost a mound of credits equivalent to the GDP of a small planetary system, but all Anakin really wanted was that dreadful cake-making liquid. He smirked at the mental image of offering some to the Chancellor of the Galactic Republic.

Anakin had a lot more trouble releasing anxiety into the Force than some Jedi, but his friends had lovingly taught him techniques they themselves used.

He had Obi-Wan's lessons in moving meditation. The combat skill of situational awareness was taught to clones provided him an easier segue into awareness of the present moment. Padme Amidala, a Nubian to the bone, liked to deal with stress by looking at something beautiful and contemplating the features that went into its aesthetic appeal.

By window shopping, he could combine all three.

The first shop was mostly baby clothes, and he looked away with a jolt in his gut- my fault, dying, dead, all my fault- but the second consisted entirely of upscale cosmetic parts for service droids, which was more up his alley. The third, however.

Home baking supplies.

Coping techniques and anxiety alike forgotten, Anakin's sleep-deprived brain lit up with the brightest idea he'd had since the glorious victory of Kenobi and Skywalker aboard the Invisible Hand.

Using a minor Force trick to make himself appear not invisible, but unremarkable to observing eyes, he stepped into the cute little shop and briefly pretended to scan the 63 different kinds of diced nuts and a bright crimson filling that reminded him just a little too much of a red Sith blade. He reached the aisles of concentrated flavourings.

Quickly and quietly, Anakin used the many swaddling layers of his tunics and oversized robe to help him be a disgrace to the Jedi Order in the pettiest way he could think of.

He bought a pack of Ahsoka's favourite candies at the till to cut down on suspicion, pocketing them in the hopes of seeing her again when all this was over. And then he left, straight faced and still holding up the Force impression of undistinguished mediocrity as his disguise.

Only a few minutes and a few shop doors later, he dropped the Force impression and took off at a run when he realized he was running late to meet with Palpatine.

***

Disheveled after arriving unfashionably late, Anakin settled into his seat in the Chancellor's private box with its premium view of the Mon Calamari water ballet. He'd never been to the Opera House before, and once Palpatine ordered his hangers-on away, it wasn't so bad.

As Palpatine elaborated on his distrust of the Jedi Council, Anakin grew slowly more concerned. Finally, with meaningful eye contact: "They asked you to do something that made you feel dishonest, didn't they?"

Caught off guard, Anakin froze. He wanted out of this conversation.

Palpatine continued. "They asked you to spy on me."

"Excuse me." Anakin held up his index finger in a 'wait' type gesture, left hand rummaging in his robes. He found what he was looking for and, pressing and twisting off the childproof cap, sucked back about 3/4ths of a bottle of vanilla extract.

Palpatine's expression slid gradually from mild surprise to intense curiosity to dawning horror. "My boy, are you quite-"

"Want some?" Realizing he could, by his own actions, turn the deliriously irreverent vision of earlier into a reality, Anakin tilted the remainder of the bottle in Palpatine's direction. "There's more where that came from."

***

An hour and an unspecified amount of vanilla extract later, staggering out of the speeder from the Opera House and back toward Palpatine's office, Anakin was trying to listen to the tragedy of Darth Plagueis the Wise.

Trying to, but Palpatine kept losing the thread of the conversation while attempting to rein in Anakin's drunken antics. The Sith lord had never realized how quickly The Hero With No Fear could become The Hero With No Volume Control.

The Republic Executive Building was nearly deserted at this hour, but it never truly closed- least of all to the Chancellor himself. Anakin's ambulation could scarcely be labeled "walking" along the fine crimson carpet of the corridors, but he kept up with Palpatine easily, if clumsily.

"He could use the midichlorians to create-"

"Life, yeah yeah, you got to this part already. A HUNDRED TIMES!"

Palpatine pursed his lips. "Anakin, if you would let me finish-"

"HE COULD SAVE THE ONES HE LOVED FROM DYING BUT NOT HIMSELF, RIGHT?"

"Yes, that's-"

"WAIT!"

The gaze Anakin fixed on the leader of the "free" galaxy was oddly lucid for one so far from sober. "I GET IT! I GET WHY YOU'RE TELLING ME THIS! YOU KNOW! YOU KNOW ABOUT MY NIGHTMARES! HOW DO YOU KNOW?"

"-I want what's best for you, my boy-"

"DO YOU HAVE THE FORCE?"

Anakin had never reached out to probe the Chancellor's presence in the Force for Force sensitivity before. Had never had reason to. But even Obi-Wan, whose deductive reasoning caught Anakin's secrets more often than anyone's, did not know about the recurring nightmares he had been having.

Now he did so, his focus as uncoordinated as his body, but still enough. Chancellor Palpatine didn't feel Force null, nor was his connection to it minor, but he didn't feel like any Jedi. He was the cold at the peak of the tallest mountain, power solely for power's sake, all the merciless quiet of the ice of Ilum and none of its promise of peace.

Anakin stumbled back.

"YOU DO!"

And.

"YOU'RE! THE! SITH! LORD!"

Anakin wanted to reach for his lightsaber, but the threads of the war were unraveling before him. He laughed, but even suffused with the unnatural levity of intoxication, it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. This was not like the tricks the 501st pulled on him, nor Obi-Wan's snark.

The war was the worst joke anyone had ever told.

"You're were BOTH SIDES!" He hiccuped. "THIS WHOLE TIME!" Painful laughter broke the cadence of his words. "IT... IT WAS YOU!"

"Anakin, please. You're shouting."

Anakin doubled over, clutching his ribs as if to keep them from falling out of his body. This wasn't funny at all, but he couldn't make the laughter stop. "THE WHOLE WAR... WAS YOURS! YOU... YOU WERE FUCKING THE WHOLE GALAXY..."

Everything that had been fought for, everything Jedi and clone and civilian had endured, everything Anakin had survived, everything he'd done, everyone who'd died- a pointless, cruel joke, like a middle finger from the Force itself.

No, not the Force. The middle finger was from Darth Sidious, Chancellor Palpatine, his so-called friend.

"Quiet!" Palpatine's voice had faded from exasperation to genuine fear. "Please, you're going to get us both killed."

Anakin's laughter had turned to convulsing, and he didn't have enough air to speak anymore even if he'd wanted to. His diaphragm was going to break, his lungs were going to shatter his ribcage from inside, his chest was going to implode. And he hoped they would, because he was going to jail for murdering the Chancellor as soon as his body let him.

There were footsteps in the hallway, but Anakin didn't care.

Behind the laughter, a howl of rage was clawing its way up his spine to reach his mouth. His left hand was trembling and in the dead of the Executive Building, hearing the lights buzz, the fingers of his right hand were tearing the fabric of his robes. Hot tears were already springing from Anakin's eyes.

He fixed Sidious with a glare of such naked, undiluted hatred that Sidious reached into his luxurious robes for his lightsaber.

As if in slow motion, he watched red swell behind the foolish Skywalker boy. The white and crimson of the Coruscant Guard first, then the scarlet robes of his own Royal Guards. They filled his field of vision like a spreading bloodstain, flowing until the worst of all the Jedi and the last Dark Lord of the Sith were surrounded.

Holding his blade in front of himself in preparation for electro-staves and countless blaster shots, Sidious regretted not replacing the Royal Guard with Sith acolytes.

And to think, red had always been his favourite colour.

Skywalker had managed to regain enough control of himself to stand up, and Sidious didn't like the blue of his lightsaber much better than the sea of red. Anakin dropped his robe to the floor in a way reminiscent of his master and grandmaster.

"He knows the ways of the Force." Anakin's voice was sluggish, the words coming slower than frozen molasses, but he didn't slur his consonants. "He's been trained to use the dark side."

Security cameras would later reveal that all Corries present gave the slightest of nods, in almost perfect unison, before opening fire.

***

After the death of the Chancellor, Anakin couldn't tell whether he was sobering up or getting drunker. He cried until he laughed, laughed until he screamed, and screamed until the ceiling shuddered and bits of rubble crumbled down around his ears.

Before the foundations could be split apart by his Force scream, someone shoved a hot cup of tea into his hands, awkwardly tucked his discarded robe around his shoulders like a blanket that smelled of blaster vapor and promised him Obi-Wan would be returning from Utapau very very soon.

Their presence was familiar. Fingers numb on the teacup, he looked up into the tired face.

"... Senator... Organa... ?" His voice was hoarse. The long lights that lined the hallway were too bright.

"Interim Chancellor-Elect Organa," said Bail.

Anakin blacked out.

~FIN~

#star wars tcw #anakin skywalker #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #obikin #vanilla extract #sheev palpatine #cw alcohol #darth Sidious #sw tcw #the clone wars #revenge of the sith #sw rots #sw revenge of the sith #clone wars era #sw prequels #star wars prequel trilogy #star wars prequels

[clonewarslover55]

The Price of a Mile

Notes: Sabaton is a fantastic heavy metal band that sings about war to educate people.(They have a large youtube channel explaining all of their songs and it's GREAT! It's great for people who don’t like heavy metal and want to learn quick things!) Sabaton has actually taught me a lot about the many wars, battles, and fights that have plagued this planet over the short time the human race has been here. A lot of these songs make me think of the Clone Wars and the poor soldiers there! So I took one of their songs that breaks my heart every time I hear it, and made a fic out of it!

I also know that most Clone Wars warfare wasn’t trench warfare but I wrote it anyway!

I highly suggest you listen to The Price of a Mile by Sabaton and try many of their other songs! They are fantastic and heart wrenching.

Lyrics will be shown by either formatting or by ‘’

Warnings: This shit gets depressing. Battle details, gruesome here and there, mentions of death and blood. Its war, its ugly, gross, and sad.

The young clone sat in the trench, mud covered and soaked by rain and blood. He looked amongst his exhausted brothers, then glanced past them into the scarred fields. The fields of this world were once green and beautiful, now they are scarred and are nothing but mud and rain filled holes. Skeletons of destroyed houses and barns were scattered amongst the fields, dead livestock strewn about them. Bodies of clones and droids alike were everywhere as well, unmoving as the mud slowly sucked them into shallow wet graves.

Then it clicked for him. ‘What was the purpose of it all?’ The sun began to set as he gripped the arm of the brother closest to him. “We’ve been at this for weeks….We have hardly made any progress. Each foot we gain we lose hundreds of men. What is the price of a mile?”

The other clone looked at him, before he spoke a nearby shell exploded, covering them both in a fresh layer of mud and gore. He wiped the mud from his visor and sighed, “Thousands.” He spoke, his voice gruff and emotionless.

The young shiny just stared at him before turning to look past the trenches and into the no man's land, and past that, an army of droids. They had pushed them back some today, the remaining droids falling back so they could regroup when the Separatists dropped off more into the thick overgrown forests where they held their line.  

‘And as the night falls the general calls

And the battle carries on and on

How long?

What is the purpose of it all

What's the price of a mile?’

When it was time to push forward his heart strings pulled at the mere sight of it all. Dead brothers, everywhere. They were nothing but pawns, tools of the Republic to win this petty war. Hot tears ran down his cold face, but he could hardly tell through the sweat and rain that mixed with it all.

They pushed forward though, their commander leading the way. His once colorful armor was now patches of white underneath layers and layers of crusted over mud and blood. Their Jedi was still nowhere to be seen, he would remain on cushy Coruscant until the hard work was completed and they got to the Sepratist base. He gritted his teeth and began the march with his brothers.

‘Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army on the march

Long way from home

Paying the price in young men's lives

Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army in despair

Knee-deep in mud

Stuck in the trench with no way out’

The mud as they marched sucked their feet in, making walking difficult. The mud was so bad the tanks couldn’t be moved yet, their feet trapped. Their mechanical feet were stuck just like thousands of brothers already. Underneath the cold mud, dead and finally at peace. The mud was getting so bad it was beginning to trap and drown men who walked on the more unlevel spots. The young clone believed some may even have done it on purpose, the exhaustion finally enough for some.

They continued on, stepping over destroyed and mangled droids. The rain was pelting them like bullets, the wind so harsh he couldn’t hear the commander over it. Luckily the comms in most of their helmets weren’t broken so some could still hear orders. He could hear, his helmet still new. His armor was no longer shiny though, it was already scarred and painted by mud, and he had only been on the battlefield for a month.

Once at the next set of trenches they dug back in, the fighting and death starting back up. The young clone felt like he had won nothing… but of course the knowledge of how much he hated this. War was nothing but bloodshed and pain to him, thousands dying for just mere feet of ground! It broke his heart, so many young men dead. And for what?

‘Still a deadlock at the front line

Where the soldiers die in mud

Roads and houses since long gone

Still no glory has been won

Know that many men has suffered

Know that many men has died

Six miles of ground has been won

Half a million men are gone

And as the men crawled the general called

And the killing carried on and on

How long?

What's the purpose of it all?

What's the price of a mile?’

After they gained the sixth mile the young clone was caught by droid laser fire, scarring his armor and heart even more. Would he make it through? Did he even want to? Exhaustion and hunger gripped him, digging in and bringing down his morale. As he stared up at the gray sky, the rain pelting his armor he sighed. He didn’t feel much, just a deep sadness as he grew colder, his blacks now fully dampened by blood and rain.

The young clone could finally rest now, the terrors of war would no longer haunt him. The nightmares were over now, for him. But for many others it raged on, and it would never stop.

‘Young men are dying

They pay the price

Oh how they suffer

So tell me what's the price of a mile

That's the price of a mile.’

End note: I actually enjoyed writing about a song like this! I would love to do more if anyone asked! 

#clone wars #The Clone Wars #clone trooper #Clone Troopers #unnamed clone #unnamed soliders #unnamed clones #the price of a mile #Sabaton #war is hell

[mlmxreader]

Scout | Obi Wan Kenobi x m!reader

Anonymous asked: seal anon- i love a good prompt list so i'm going to drop a few in this 1 ask ( you are under no obligation to do them all) each 1 is a different request. not necessarily asking for smut (since i know it's way too hot to write that) but some of these prompts do scream brat reader and daddy kink

for the ones you do can they be x male reader plz

"You're supposed to be on lookout and yet you're here pestering me? Fuck off! I love you, but fuck off!"- Obi wan

summary: you and Obi Wan are in the run together, but when you're meant to be on lookout duty, things stop going according to the plan.

tws: swearing

On the run and hiding from pretty much everyone and anyone, you and Obi Wan were struggling; his face was plastered everywhere, bounty hunters probably weren't far away at any given point, even people who wanted to make a bit of extra cash on the side were after him - although you couldn't blame them, a Jedi was worth a lot as it was, a powerful Jedi was worth even more. Obi Wan Kenobi was worth the most of the bunch. But you had developed a system, at least, that seemed to work for the most part; at least, neither of you had been caught yet.

He would go and do what he needed, while you stayed behind as his lookout, scouting the area for anyone who may be after him or may be getting a little too close; you were better at it than he was, and although he was once a famous negotiator, he didn't have the same charm when there was money for his blood and his head on a stick.

You couldn't see him so well with sweat dripping into your eyes, though, so you dared to creep closer bit by bit until you were at his side, wrapping an arm around his waist and daring to try and act natural.

"What are you doing?"

"I couldn't see," you grumbled, pretending to look at one of the stalls, hoping that everyone thought you were just a couple of boyfriends out shopping. "How am I meant to keep an eye out if I can't fucking see you?"

"Oh, I get it," Obi Wan muttered, picking up one of the trinkets and examining it. "You're supposed to be on lookout and yet you're here pestering me? Fuck off! I love you, but fuck off!"

"I would if I wasn't sweating like a goddamn-" you shook your head "A fucking bucket per minute."

He rolled his eyes, but when he noticed someone looking, he turned so that he could whisper in your ear. "Someone's watching. Smile and act like I'm speaking to you the... the way I do when we're alone."

You smiled, nodding a little and pulling him a little closer. "You mean like when you said you wanted to lick my-"

"Yes," he hissed. "Now shut up, and follow my lead."

"Oh, I do love it when you take control," you joked softly, letting go of his waist, pleasantly surprised when he gently took your hand in his own and held it tightly. You could feel the sweat on his skin, but you still had to bite back the smile that threatened to break out.

"This way," he muttered, tugging you to a different stall, acting as if you were merely a happy couple browsing what was available. "You could get us into trouble for this, you know. If we get caught together, you-"

"I know the risks," you said quietly, picking up a piece of clothing and taking a look at it. "I knew them from the day you asked me out... when you were still a Padawan."

"All these years and you still don't know how to follow orders," Obi Wan huffed, running a hand through his hair.

"I learned from the best," you mused, flashing him a smile. "Don't act like you've always been the perfect Jedi, Obi, you were a little shit."

Obi Wan rolled his eyes as he shook his head. "We should think about moving on... we're getting closer and closer to getting caught the more we stick around."

You nodded. "Do you have what you needed?"

"I got most of it," he confirmed with a nod. "I didn't quite manage to find a decent pair of boots, though."

"We'll find some at some point," you reassured, letting go of his hand so that you could gently rest your own between his shoulder blades. "Do you have transport ready?"

"Yes, at the border," Obi Wan spared a look at you, sudden regret filling him as he sighed.

He didn't mean to drag you into this mess, he didn't mean to make his darling boyfriend a wanted criminal like him, he didn't want you to be hunted down how he was, like some kind of worthless game animal; he didn't mean for things to play out like this, and every day, he regretted that you had ever been involved with him.

But then you dragged your hand down, and gave his ass a gentle and playful tap, and he realised that your feelings hadn't faltered, and if you had to be on the run just to be with them, you were glad to be.

"Come on," you chuckled. "Let's get going before we get out asses handed to us."

if you liked this fic, REBLOG IT - do not just leave a "like", REBLOG IT. you may also leave feedback in the form of asks, tags, etc which is greatly appreciated, but you SHOULD reblog it regardless.

#mlem writes #obi wan x reader #obi wan imagine #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x yn #obi wan one shot #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi fic #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan kenobi fanfic #obi wan fic #obi wan #obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor x you #ewan mcgregor imagine #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor x reader

[swsequelsalt]

In which I don’t understand the Inquisitors or why/how they operate

I’m giving the Obi-Wan Disney+ series a chance.

I was optimistic that it wouldn’t include any references to the sequels that I deeply want to forget. And I’m certainly happy to see Disney embracing the prequels now, after years of shitting the bed so hard that many fans went from disdaining the prequels to openly longing for their quality. 

But of course, they’ve already included something introduced in the Disney sequel mythology. (The ability to forcibly pull information from someone’s mind is, to me, a bit much? It just seems OP, even for Force-wielders [who are already pretty damn OP]. But at least it appeared to be highly difficult when Kylo Ren was doing it in The Force Awakens. In comparison, Reva apparently does this sort of thing five times on her morning jog each day.) And I have other questions....

If anyone reading this out there watched “Star Wars: Rebels” or followed any other Disney-era Expanded Universe materials, perhaps you can help me out. 

What’s the deal with the Inquisitors? 

He’s evil and he knows it. (ayy)

1) There are only ever two Sith at any given time, right? And the Sith want to exterminate the Jedi, obviously. But in their quest to do so, they’re... hiring former Jedi? Creating additional Force users/lightsaber wielders who are neither Sith nor Jedi?? I can’t understand the logic here. This seems like a Very Bad Idea for Palpy and Vader. They’re A) creating more people who might potentially attempt to usurp their power (as Sith are notorious for killing their own masters) and B) they’re creating more people who can effect a decent uprising against them if they ever turned to the light side. Are there really so many escaped Jedi that we needed to create an entire division that puts the leadership at risk like this? 

2) Obviously, the Empire would have to know that Obi-Wan and Yoda were never killed during the purge, right? In other words, the extermination was never completed. If you really thought this division necessary to create, you presumably wouldn’t dissolve it before the job was finished. So why don’t the Inquisitors appear to exist by the time of Episode IV/ANH? Or are they just off-screen somewhere? Do we know?

3) In Episode III, Palpatine sells the public the Big Lie that the Jedi were power-hungry and led an insurrection against the standing government, which is why they have to be taken out. But the Inquisitors in “Obi-Wan” are walking around openly talking of the Jedi having compassion that they can’t resist, having a desire to help people everywhere they go - y’know, all these obviously positive traits. So: Did the Empire completely drop the pretense of the Jedi being the bad guys somewhere between Episode III and Episode IV, I guess. That seems... ill-advised, but maybe they just didn’t want to keep having to lie all the time?

#star wars #star wars negativity #obi-wan kenobi

[wily-art]

#star wars #the clone wars #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #fives #captain rex #the 501st and 212th bein dorks #I raise you these two teams being stupid together #jedi and clone bros #jedi dropping their shit everywhere #sketchy comic that i had to get out of my system #long post #arts

[phoenixyfriend]

Politically Charged Gay Chicken AU

People encouraged me to share this so here we go:

Jango escapes spice ship slavery and retakes Mandalore instead of becoming a bounty hunter. He reaches out to the Temple and demands reparations from the Jedi. Through an incredibly stupid series of events, he gets a Kenobi-shaped "blushing bride that is only demure because they're trying very hard not to kick your ass right now."

Qui-Gon was involved in reparations negotiation because it’s his job and he’s, for some reason, one of the best at it. He brought along 20yo Obi-Wan for Training Reasons, and between Jango's consistent vitriol and a dumb comment of "Well I'm not going to demand a spouse out of this, for all that it’s traditional," getting met with Obi-Wan's (more politely worded) "why, are you chicken?" a political marriage happens out of SPITE, and it's Obi-Wan because he's a sensible age, legally Dooku's grandson, and volunteering to call Jango's bluff.

Jango is calling Obi-Wan’s bluff.

As we all can guess, neither of them is going to back down.

Jango: Well it’s not like I can demand a marriage out of this. Jedi don’t marry, and I wouldn’t agree to it even if you did. Qui-Gon: Well, exceptions to the marriage rule are made with some regularity with account for extenuating circumstances. Obi-Wan: [has up to this point built something of a rapport with Jango based on mutual sniping as stress relief] Obi-Wan: But I suppose someone in your position and of your background would find it unnerving to share such constant contact with a Jedi. I understand your reticence entirely. Jango: Excuse me? Obi-Wan: Nobody is would have judged you for being too uncomfortable to marry a Jedi, I assure you. It might have made things easier in the long run, but as you said, it’s not on the table. Jango: You volunteering? Obi-Wan: I wouldn’t think to insult you in such a manner. Jango: I’m not scared of marrying a Jedi. Obi-Wan: I’m sure, Mand’alor. Jango: ... Obi-Wan: ... Jango: You’re legally Dooku’s grandchild, yeah? Obi-Wan: Yes, wh-- Jango: Fine, I’m marrying you.

Qui-Gon is pretending to be okay with this but fretting like mad every time he’s alone. Dooku is there, and mostly resigned to the fact that this is happening. The Council is throwing a fit but for one thing, they’ve learned to expect this from the lineage, and for another, it really is a shortcut.

Obi-Wan insists that Jango is going to break and call off the wedding if he just sticks it out, but contracts and treaties are being drawn up and nobody else is betting on Jango dropping out.

(Jango’s entire court is banging helmets on the wall because they respect and maybe love their Mand’alor, but this is just... why. Sir, why.)

Jango doesn’t even consider dropping out of this incredibly pointless mess until they’re at an altar and he sees Obi-Wan dressed in some Stewjoni wedding suit with Jedi elements and beskar vambraces, and realizes that oh shit, this actually is happening and he’s part of the reason why.

Qui-Gon, outwardly: Obi-Wan, I'm so proud of you for finding such a peaceful resolution and volunteering to spend half of your time on Mandalore for the sake of it. Qui-Gon, internally: MY BOY IS GETTING MARRIED NO THAT'S NOT OKAY THAT'S MY BABY

Qui-Gon is very "this is fine" about it and meanwhile Obi-Wan is just like... this is basically an extended and very stupid diplomatic mission and part of Fett's requirement is that I don't retire from the Jedi SPECIFICALLY because it "won't count" if I'm not part of Dooku's lineage anymore, barely anything is going to change except for part-time living on Mandalore and the council already said you'd be coming with me to finish my training.

"Master Jinn, I can't believe this needs saying, but you REALLY don't need to worry about my so-called virtue." (Unstated, but implied: Obi’s been fooling around with fellow padawans for a while. He’s absolutely fallen into bed with someone before.)

Metaphysically intense “anxious mother-of-the-bride” vibes follow him everywhere.

#Jangobi #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Dooku #star wars #arranged marriage #political marriage #Politically Charged Gay Chicken AU #Phoenix Posts #that dialogue exchange in chat format is a little clunky but ehhhh I have work soon #500 notes #1k notes

[sej2020]

Finding You

You arrived on the hot sandy planet, your light under vest you usually wore under your tunic covered by a scratchy, woollen cover. Inside your backpack you had stored your sabre, winter tunic, and your robe. They had only gotten you into trouble, inquisitors chasing you down on the last planet you had been trying to hide on.

You had only gone down to the small starlet in the village on Naboo you were staying on. That was probably your mistake, going because of Jar Jars funeral, you should have stayed away, but you wanted to pay your respects to the fallen clumsy Gungun who had become a fierce ally. But sadly you were recognised and with the bounty on your head being so high, it was unsurprising you were reported.

And so, you decided to run to the furthest part of the galaxy. Tatooine, already you were regretting it, quickly paying for some food, you began to make your way to the outskirts of town, hearing the gossip about abandoned buildings, you decided to check some of them out. Maybe you could make one of them hospitable.

Making your way amongst the sand rocks, you were surrounded suddenly by Tuscan raiders. With a sigh you attempted to negotiate, as your friend would have done, only it was a useless exercise, after a searing jab to your shoulder you caught your light sabre in your hand, defending yourself from their attacks.

As you fought them back, it was then that you felt it, a prescience of someone you thought dead. An all too familiar back pressed against your own, the hum of a blue sabre joined your unique orange coloured one. Just like old times you deflected the attacks, dancing around each other with erase until the threat was gone, both of you shitting down your sabres, slowly turning to each other.

‘Y/N’

‘Obi Wan’

You both said at the same time, chuckling lightly.

‘Come on, let’s talk inside’ smiled Obi Wan, leading the way through the rocks to a small house.

‘Oh that’s better’ you sighed happy to be out of the gruelling heat.

‘Go sit, I’ll make some tea’ said Obi Wan with a smile, pointing to the small living area he had made up, consisting of a makeshift table and padded area to sit upon.

You went over, dropping your rucksack, shucking off your scratchy attire, revealing your irritated skin, from the material. However what had you sighing was the padded area you had decided to to lie down on, on your back.

‘Comfy?’ grinned Obi Wan, coming in using the force to bring in a boiling kettle and two cups.

‘You have no idea’ you sighed blissfully.

‘Here’ chuckled Obi Wan sitting opposite you over the table, handing over a now full mug.

‘My favourite, how did you get this?’ You asked when you sat up taking a sip.

‘I’ve had to redo my tea collection sadly but I’ve been getting them from the market every eight months or so’ spoke Obi Wan fondly taking his own sip.

‘I’m so glad to find you alive Obi Wan’ you whispered after you had lapsed into silence sipping your tea.

‘Me to darling, me to, I’m so sorry you’ve been alone all this time’ said Obi Wan sadly.

‘You have as well Obi Wan, I’m sure it’s been difficult for you as well’ you said softly scratching your skin.

‘Hey, stop, I’ve got a salve that’ll help’ said Obi Wan, standing and fetch a medipack from the kitchen.

‘You’re better packed here than at the temple’ you teased earning an eye roll, as Obi Wan resettled directly next to you, searching through the pack for the salve.

‘You were always over prepared if memory serves me correct’ said Obi Wan, finding the salve and beginning to apply it gently to your irritated and blistered skin.

‘Master Ki always said it was the sign of a determined Jedi’ you said.

Both of you let out light chuckles before remembering your old master and friends were dead. Obi Wan continued to apply the salve for a moment or two before speaking again.

‘Where have you been? You’ve collected some new scars since…’ asked Obi Wan.

‘Everywhere, the inquisitors are making it harder to remain in one place for long, I was just on Naboo, Jar Jar died, I wanted to pay my respects’ you said softly.

‘Y/N… I’m sorry, I know you were fond of him’ said Obi Wan sincerely.

‘I was, I know it was foolish, but he was a good friend, I wish…’ you said breaking off when emotion took hold of you.

‘It’s ok’ said Obi Wan rubbing your back now, as he felt the fluttering in the force.

‘I’m so conflicted, I’m sad, and I guess angry about what’s happened, but so relieved and happy to have found you’ you said shaking your head.

‘I know exactly how you feel… do you… would you be open to meditating? It might help’ asked Obi Wan carefully.

‘It’s been so long’ you whispered.

‘I’ll guide you’ smiled Obi Wan, the man stood holding his hand out to you.

Pulling you to your feet, Obi Wan kept hold of your hand guiding you outside to a path to climb much to your grumbling, however the view on the top was spectacular, especially for Tatooine. Settling down crossed legged, you followed Obi Wan into the force, for the first time in eleven years, you found peace.

‘You can stay here, with me if you want’ came Obi Wan’s whisper when he saw your thoughts.

‘I don’t want to endanger you’ you relied unsure.

‘I’m not about to turn you away Y/N, I’ve missed you dearly’ said Obi Wan.

‘Ok, if your sure’ you agreed sensing his desire for you to stay.

‘I’ve missed you’ said Obi Wan embracing you in the force tightly.

‘I’ve missed you Obi’

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan x reader #obi wan #Star Wars #star wars imagine #Tatooine #Jedi #jedi exile

[deniigi]

Please take this section from a piece about Baby Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon bonding post Bandomeer.

I’m sure that this isn’t how their master-apprentice relationship was formed but I refuse to read so this is it for me 🙃🙂

Title: platelets

Summary: After the smoke clears on Bandomeer, the Agricorps gathers 12yo Obi-Wan into their ranks and prepares to train him to become one of their own. Qui-Gon thinks they should wait a damn minute here. He’s had a change of heart.

---

Obi-Wan was no longer in the med bay. It took Qui-Gon two hours to find him and two years off his life trying to look casual under the irritated gaze of so many suspicious Agricorps members.

The foreman (forewoman) was the first to crack under Qui-Gon’s very charming smile—and she didn’t so much as crack as tell him that his attempts to be subtle disgusted her to the core.

Obi-Wan had been given over to a young lab manager. A friendly man in need of his first supervisee. He was soft at heart and, according to the foreman, very good with kids.

Qui-Gon understood implicitly and rapidly that this was his new competitor.

He asked the foreman what the knights had done to incur the corps’ ire and she told him to search his fucking feelings.

She closed the door behind him, effectively locking him into one of the Agricorps terrarium-lab bubbles.

 --

Qui didn’t like to snoop. He loved to snoop.

Nothing was more satisfying then having a poke through the lines upon lines of glasses and test pockets that covered the tables. He had a sniff around the experimental cuttings taking root in their glasses and then took cover when he heard a voice break out into a laugh.

He peered over the edge of the counter and spotted the familiar green smock-tunic of the corps. Its owner had tan skin and narrow eyes and his back stooped into an arc. Qui-Gon craned his neck and found that the arc came over the tuft-y red hair of his future apprentice (because there was no real question here, regardless of the corps’ agitation; the knights would always get first choice over the initiates).

The lab manager, however, gave no sign of trepidation. He held in front of Obi-Wan a handful of seeds that sprouted and curled under his smile. Obi-Wan watched them with wide eyes. The manager turned his gentle face down towards Obi-Wan and nudged his hands until Obi-Wan was holding the mass as it grew.

“Look, you’re a natural,” the man said.

Obi-Wan sucked in a lip and focused hard. One of the plants’ first adult leaves began to unfurl.

“Well done. Fantastic,” the manager said. “Look at you already. Great job and for that, a reward.”

“A reward?” Obi-Wan asked, handing the tangle of roots off as the manager held out his hands for them.

“A reward,” the manager agreed, plucking one of the fat stems from the bunch and holding it out to Obi-Wan, “A snack.”

Damn. This guy was good.

 --

 The foreman was smug as a dungbeetle in shit when Qui-Gon skulked out of the lab. She asked him how his proposal had gone. He scowled at her and made off back to his quarters.

Normally, he would call someone to lament the traitorous actions of these supposed-allies, but no one was going to be sympathetic right now—not even Tahl. She was going to say what everyone else was going to say which was “Man, you had how many chances to get this right?”

He smashed his face into the pillow of his bunk, then flung it off and flattened his cheek against the mattress.

There had to be some way to turn these tides back in his favor. He wasn’t losing to the Agricorps. Master Dooku would have a heart attack. Qui’s failure in this—more than Xanatos—would kill him and then he’d have to live with that guilt for the rest of his life.

UGH.

Alright, Jinn. Think.

 --

 He had a brilliant plan. It involved a lightsaber. Obi-Wan loved lightsabers. Qui-Gon had witnessed him loving them many a time.

He scrounged up some tools and squeaked past the Agricorps security for a quick bounce off to acquire a crystal. A blue one. Obi-Wan looked like a blue saber sort of kid. It took a while to find one because everyone, everywhere, was conspiring against Qui-Gon on this. Even the Force seemed to be telling him that he was too late.

But for once, he didn’t care. There were only so many times you could fuck up before you started fucking up at least in the right direction.

He got the crystal. He brought it back to the corps headquarters and went on the hunt yet again for his (his damnit) future apprentice.

  This time, Obi-Wan was in the dormitories. Qui-Gon almost gasped in horror to find him outfitted in an over-large green smock-tunic. He flapped the too-long sleeves with a goofy smile while his lab manager reached around him and tightened the belt at his waist as far as it would go.

“You’re so scrawny,” the lab manager told him. “We’ll fix that.”

Obi-Wan beamed up at him and held up his sleeve-covered hands.

“I like green,” he said.

A small piece of Qui-Gon screamed internally.

“I think you’re more of a blue, actually,” the lab manager said. “But this is what we’ve got for now. When you get bigger, we can see if there’s a blue that fits you.”

“There are so many colors,” Obi-Wan said as the manager trapped his arm and started rolling up one of the sleeves. He tried to do the same with the other on his own, which just made the manager’s job harder.

“There are,” the manager said.

“Do you get to pick?”

“You sure do.”

“How do you pick?”

The manager patted Obi-Wan’s head and turned around to hunt down something else from the spare clothing supply.

“It comes to you,” he said, muffled.

There was a long silence. Qui-Gon had just decided to step out of hiding, when Obi-Wan, looking at the rolled edges of his sleeves said,

“I think I want to leave.”

Qui-Gon’s heart stopped. The manager’s rummaging did, too. He pulled himself carefully out of the cupboard.

“Leave?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said to his sleeves. “I think I want to leave.”

No.

“You’re a little young to leave, aren’t you?” the manager said awkwardly.

“Maybe,” Obi-Wan said. “But I’ll figure it out. If I can survive those people in the mines, then I can figure it out, can’t I? And then I can pick my colors out there. You get to pick, right? Maybe I’ll do blue after all.”

Fuck. No. Qui-Gon was gonna—

“Hey, why don’t we do this?” the manager said, setting aside a set of gaiters to kneel down in front of Obi-Wan. “Let’s give us a trial run, huh? Two months, max. I know we didn’t make the best first impression, but give us two months—eight weeks—and after that, if you don’t like it, we’ll make sure you’ve got somewhere to go when you’re ready to leave. Does that sound okay?”

Qui-Gon held his breath. Obi-Wan studied the knuckles of the hands holding his. He rubbed his split lips together.

“Eight weeks?” he asked.

“That’s all, no more and if you really, really can’t stand it, then even less,” the manager said.

“And you’ll help me? Even if I say I don’t want to stay?”

“Even if you don’t want to stay.”

Maybe Qui was operating on another, less child-friendly level here, but why in kark’s name you’d even give the boy the illusion of choice was beyond him. The answer was, truly, that the second Obi-Wan set foot away from the jedi, he’d be signing his own death sentence.

Xanatos wouldn’t care if he wasn’t Qui-Gon’s true apprentice. He wouldn’t ask those kinds of questions. He’d just seize the opportunity the moment Obi-Wan no longer had someone standing behind him, and when he was through, he’d bring the body to the Temple and lay it out cold and open-eyed on the front steps.

There were no other options for the child now. Qui-Gon was being kind with this process of trust-building. In reality, if he really needed to, he could contact Yoda and acquiesce to his previous wisdom and arguments for Qui-Gon to take the kid on. Yoda would then change the boy’s assignment and orders; he would return to the temple and thereafter again go through the selection process. But this time, Qui-Gon would select him without hesitation.

That wasn’t how Qui-Gon wanted to do this, but if the boy thought that he was going to leave, to step out into the cold of space, then to spare him a cruel, meaningless death, Qui-Gon would.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said quietly to the manager.

“Anytime, hon,” the manager said. “Who knows, anyways. You might even like it here.”

 --

  The trouble with the damn Agricorps was that they were phenomenal talkers. They talked to people about their problems and all these insecurities and they gave them food and drinks and told jokes and laughed and hefted their littlest supervisees up onto their shoulders and all that served to make their members loyal to each other to a fault.

In short, Obi-Wan’s lab manager was winning this battle more every day.

This was not helped at all by the fact that Qui-Gon had discovered through a surprise meeting that Obi-Wan was afraid of him.

They’d bumped into each other in the hallway as Obi-Wan came from the mess hall and Qui-Gon went to drop off some documents, and the kid scrambled away from him and flattened himself against the corridor’s wall.

Some serious meditation (and agitating Mace, great tower of sleep-deprived wisdom) had brought Qui-Gon to the conclusion that yeah, a month in forced labor, being banished to a mine, food deprivation, physical assault, and so on really did a number on a twelve-year-old’s trust in people and their associates.

Further, Mace pointed out that Qui-Gon was approximately ‘half a mile tall and covered in overgrowth.’

He did not appear to be a soothing presence to children. Mace said that if he’d deigned to join him and the other masters in chatting and cuddling the younglings in the crèche, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but alas, Qui, you stuck-up nerfherder. You reap what you sow.

Mace’s hind and foresight was, as per usual, invaluable.

Qui-Gon decided that he was going to be the nice version of himself. He was going to smile at Obi-Wan. That would do it.

 --

 It didn’t do it.

The foreman came to Qui-Gon’s quarters to gleefully tell him not to approach the corps’ young supervisees unprompted. He was giving the children hives.

He explained to her outright that he intended to take Obi-Wan on as his apprentice.

She told him good luck. Obi-Wan, she claimed, was already settling in with the others. He was making friends. And Qui-Gon wasn’t so cruel as to separate such a traumatized boy from such comfort, now was he?

But there, she was mistaken.

He definitely was that cruel.

The foreman told him to die miserable and slammed his door.

 --

 It took another two tries, but eventually, he managed to find Obi-Wan tucked away on one of his breaks from his training in the lab. He appeared to be at a loss for what to do with himself. He’d settled against a window and had splayed both hands on it as he stared out into the cracked soil of Bandomeer.

Qui-Gon watched him for a little while and then cleared his throat.

Obi-Wan jumped. His eyes came up for the briefest second and then his head went down.

“Master,” he greeted.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon replied. “You seem bored.”

Guilt colored the boy’s cheeks in a flush.

“I’m not bored, Master,” he said, fidgeting with his rolled sleeves.

“May I sit?” Qui-Gon asked, gesturing next to where Obi-Wan knelt. He nodded and arranged himself in a more dignified posture. Qui-Gon let him; he sat down next to him, grumbling and creaking and popping.

His bones weren’t what they used to be.

Once he was finally more or less comfortable, he turned to notice Obi-Wan staring at him with eyes like a cat’s.

“What? You never seen an old man sit?” he asked.

“What happened to your hair?” Obi-Wan asked.

Oh.

“It’s in a bun,” Qui-Gon explained, reaching up to release the mane. It tumbled down over his shoulders and cheered for fresh air.

Obi-Wan’s gaze became even more cat-like. Qui-Gon fought off a smirk.

“You want to touch it?” he asked.

The kid looked away abruptly.

“It’s okay. You can touch it,” Qui told him. “It looks better than it feels, I must say. Needs a trim—look at these ends, little one. I ought to be arrested for crimes against decency.”

Aha. Gotcha. Look at that wobble in those lips. Trying not to smile. They’d see how long that worked, now wouldn’t they?

He badgered Obi-Wan until he finally broke and reached up to brush his fingers against the hair Qui-Gon put within his reach. His attention snapped into place.

“It’s soft,” he said, amazed.

His fingers started combing without permission. Qui-Gon let it happen.

“Very useful for cold climates—have you ever felt a snow-yak, Obi-Wan?” he asked.

The boy shook his head. Of course, he hadn’t.

“Do you know what they look like?”

Another shake.

“Well, perhaps one day, you will see them,” Qui-Gon said indulgently. “When I was a boy, my master told me not to try to pet them—he told me at every step of the way, he knew me well. But you know what I did?”

There was that smile now.

“You pet them?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I sure did,” Qui-Gon told him. “And you know that they did?”

“Kicked you?”

“Me? No. I was too small a target. They charged my master—Master Dooku; you may have heard of him.”

Obi-Wan shoved his giggles into his palms.

“I want to pet one,” he said.

“Yes, you do look like the type,” Qui-Gon said. “Tell me, Obi-Wan, what are your feelings on pathetic lifeforms?”

“What’s that?”

“You tell me. What’s a pathetic lifeform to you?”

Obi-Wan settled in and thought about it as he gazed out the window’s thick glass.

“Me,” he decided.

Bless him.

“You?” Qui-Gon said incredulously. “No, no. You saved a jedi master. I said ‘pathetic.’”

“Me,” Obi-Wan insisted again.

Qui-Gon held a finger out between them.

“If you are a pathetic life form, then I am in grave danger,” he said.

The giggle this time wasn’t hidden. It make Qui-Gon’s own grin grow.

“I was thinking a lothcat,” he admitted. “Or a dragon—love a dragon. Of course, the yak—perhaps not pathetic to my master, but to others yes. They’re not smart, Obi-Wan, poor things.”

“You like animals,” Obi-Wan said.

Qui-Gon weighed this statement with his head.

“’Animals’ isn’t quite broad enough, but yes, they fall into the category,” he said. “I’m also a big fan of rescuing the plants that no one can keep alive.”

Obi-Wan brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. He settled a soft cheek onto the top of the right one.

“That’s what I’ll be doing here,” he said.

“Indeed,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause. The boy sniffed softly.

“You will be happy here,” Qui-Gon told him gently. “They will take care of you.”

Another sniff. An eye scrubbed with a too-long sleeve.

“I’m sorry I’m not good enough,” Obi-Wan whispered.

Well, this was a conversation Qui-Gon hadn’t wanted to walk into. There were, from his vantage point, a few ways out of it, but at the end of each of those paths was a set of brown eyes framed by intense, wispy green brows.

“You are good enough,” Qui-Gon said. “I am just a foolish master. You deserve someone better than me, Obi-Wan.”

“There is no one else,” Obi-Wan said.

“There will be,” Qui-Gon said.

“No, there won’t. I’m out of time. All that’s left for me is...this,” Obi-Wan said, gesturing to the landscape beyond the window.

Qui-Gon studied it; the cracks in the soil, the piles of broken stones.

“It is a little bleak,” he admitted.

“What is it like for non-jedi people?” Obi-Wan asked. “Do they go to school? How do they find somewhere to sleep?”

“You will not be a non-jedi person,” Qui-Gon said.

There was a long pause.

“What?”

Qui-Gon sucked in a breath and let his shoulders fall.

“Unless you really want to be one,” he added. “Apologies, I spoke without thinking.”

Those blue eyes were the same color as the crystal in Qui-Gon’s pocket. He put his hand inside of it and pulled the carefully wrapped parcel out so that Obi-Wan could see it. He rolled it slowly until only the crystal sat in his palm.

“There is greatness in you, Obi-Wan,” he said. “And I am not a good enough Master, but you are more than a deserving padawan.”

The eyes flicked from the crystal to Qui-Gon’s face once, then twice.

“Do you mean it?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Are you okay with having a silly master?” Qui-Gon asked. “I will not sugar-coat it—one of my students has already fallen. I am the type of person who Master Windu has been dreaming of the unfortunate demise for since we were children.”

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked with eyes only for the crystal.

“Excellent question. I am told that my brain is fundamentally ill-suited for human interaction,” Qui-Gon said with a smile.

Obi-Wan huffed.

“Does Master Windu really dislike you so much?” he asked.

“He speaks to me in such ways only out of love. My other friends say that I am dedicated intensely to the flight of fancy.”

“I don’t know what that means,” Obi-Wan said.

“You know, funny thing,” Qui-Gon told him, reaching over to take his hand and press the crystal into it, “Neither do I.”

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #qui-gon jinn #I think Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon should be the kind of apprentice and master who deserve each other #and by that I mean that they both do shit that make the other's teeth grind but they bear it with a smile #fic #ficlet

[cali-is-my-canvas]

MHA RAVE AU HEADCANONS

Part 1

Ok so I had started artworks for this idea because being a weeb and a raver, it only made sense to me.

So here’s a list of the MHA characters (all 18+) and what I think they’d be like as ravers including the genre, style and uh….. “party favors” they’d indulge in if they do indulge.

Izuku Midoriya

You can’t convince me that Deku isn’t a baby raver. He’s one of those that starts off wide eyed and so excited to start raving.

Definitely a budding Kandi Kid. He loves making kandi and trading with other people and he definitely takes videos or pics of his trades to add to his scrapbook.

Is the kind of baby raver that scrapbooks for his memories of each show/festival he goes to. He saves the admission bands and takes tons of pics.

Is fairly mainstream with his taste is DJs but will go to check out other sub genres if he goes with other groups. Mostly along the lines of Zedd, The Chainsmokers, David Guetta. Very house/pop vibes.

He’s very comfy style. Is big on merch shirts. Has a Fanny pack and a camel pack with essentials like gum, water, hair ties, a mini first aid kit, power banks, a couple fans and Vick’s.

Is the kind of guy that is very sweet so girls flock to him to either treat him like baby or flirt with him cuz he’s good boi. Will lift people on his shoulders, guy or girl.

Light show caretaker. He’s the one who holds your hand, fans you, will probably sit you in his lap whether you’re a guy gal or non binary pal.

His rave name is either Deku or Broccoli.

Izuku isn’t one to take any kind of “party favors”. If anything, he’s the one making sure everybody else is staying hydrated and safe. Usually the designated driver.

OFA gives him great strength which proves very useful when going to 3 day festivals as he ends up as the pack mule. Along with the multitude of other quirks attached ro OFA, he uses them as needed.

Shoto Todoroki

Wasn’t really ecstatic about raving but also didn’t hate the idea. He kinda just tagged along because Izuku wanted to go.

Also very big on house/pop/mainstream stuff. Will listen to trance on occasion but he has to really be in the mood.

Only really takes pics if he remembers or if Izuku tells him to. He likes to enjoy the shows in the moment.

Because he’s from a rich family, he usually gets to have VIP passes and will either sneak his friends in or just flat out walk them in. No fucks given.

Also very comfy. Will take his shirt off only if it gets too hot. Very little kandi but faithfully wears the one Izuku gave him.

Gets hit on a lot. Gives the strong silent type vibes so he lures in the girls but he’s kinda clueless. Will help put people on his shoulders if they ask but he’s not one to offer.

Not a big “party favor” person so he’ll just drink every now and again.

I feel like his rave name will be IcyHot, Peppermint, or something along those lines.

His dual-quirks of ice and fire help tremendously in warming people up or cooling them down.

Katsuki Bakugou

Katsuki took a bit of convincing but when he heard the boom of the bass, he was hooked. He loves the heavy beats and drops and loves to mosh pit.

Is a kandi kid but focuses more on head banging and rail breaking. The ones he trades kandi with are usually the ones he liked head banging with or got good vibes from. Will infamously wear his kandi gauntlets to festivals.

He is HEAVY on the bass. Very into hard style, dubstep, deathstep, drum and bass and moombatah. Sullivan King, Excision, Dion Timmer, etc.

Loves doing that headbanger thing with Kirishima where they lock hands and headbang at each other. Will also break his neck with Kirishima.

Absolutely is the type of guy to be shirtless the entire time. Will vary between bandanas, face masks, kandi masks or gas masks. Camel pack is a necessity and so is gum and vicks.

Does get hit on but his aggressive nature is off putting to most. Takes pics with a lot of people because of his Kandi gauntlets. If he does click with somebody he’s very possessive and the “party favors” make him very flirtatious and grabby but he’s v respectful.

Gives amazing back/shoulder rubs. Will usually put a girl in his lap when she gets a light show so she’s not uncomfy on the floor. For guys, he’s very selective but good vibes unless you give off Chad energy.

If he didn’t click with anybody at the show/festival and is feeling touchy feely, Kiri is his go to. Even if Kiri makes a connection, you’ll often see Katsuki close by and being the “tag team top” to Kiri.

Definitely uses “party favors”. Prefers E and acid. Big on Kandi Flipping. Will try Jedi Flipping but doesn’t wanna overdo it.

His rave name is either Dynamite or Grenade. Was almost gonna be Kacchan when he went with Izuku but he shut that down real fast.

His explosion quirk comes in handy with hyping up the crowd with mini explosion. They also double for giving light shows. Likes watching faces melt.

Kyoka Jirou

I definitely think she’s one of the ones that introduced everyone to raving to open up their music taste.

She listens to a little of everything but prefers house, trance, techno and probably a little psy-trance.

She’s definitely a budding DJ/Producer. Has her own EPs out on SoundCloud and shit. Definitely invites everyone she knows to her shows.

Not so big on kandi but she loves spreading the PLUR vibes. Will give hugs, braid hair, have spare hair ties, etc.

Super into hearing different types of music so will definitely wander around different stages.

Style is very lax but also very rocker. Ripped tank tops, fishnets, leg wraps face masks, boots.

Sometimes partakes in “party favors” but very low doses. Mostly E or molly water

She’s the kind that will give amazing massages when someone is getting a light show. Does get hit on but usually ends up befriending everybody.

Her raver name is tricky. I feel like she’d get something Joane Jet or something very rocker.

Her quirk is tricky for this environment. It can be a hit or miss. Because of the volume she obviously can’t amplify the sound. Because her ear jacks can move on their own, she usually is the one catching people’s stuff, getting a better grip on them etc.

Ochako Uraraka

Very bubbly and upbeat. Definitely pop-ish/mainstream vibes. Will randomly be on a bass kick and it’s frightening.

She was super excited to go to a rave and was very baby raver but she loves it now.

She’s definitely the type to wear the cutesy outfits with tutus and bright colors and patterns and the body glitter everywhere and jewels. Probably leg warmer floofs.

Loves Kandi and trading kandi. Super friendly and bubbly. Makes friends with everybody.

Carries a fanny pack with the basics. Usually relies on Izuku for water and stuffs.

She’s a molly water chick. No debating. She can’t take a whole dosage. She’s gotta take it in Gatorade or water. Has to be watched cuz her bubbly nature makes her wander off so she’ll usually be tethered to somebody.

Usually hyping up the light show artist while they melt your face off. Will fan you off, hold your hand, give you shoulder and scalp massages.

I feel like her nickname would be something like Pinkie Pie or Bubbles. Very fitting for her personality.

Her quirk is definitely a god send for the other vertically challenged ravers. She’ll use her quirk to help float up to get a better view. Izuku is usually nearby keeping Ochaco and whoever she floats in his hands so they don’t float away.

Eijirou Kirishima

Is good boi himbo who wanted to be included. Listened to dubstep and loved it.

Very much into dubstep, hard style, deathstep and moombatah. Drum and bass too because of Katsuki.

Is a headbanger and rail breaker. Loves doing the hand holding, head banging thingy with Bakugou and is always ready to dive into the moshpits. Is totally that guy that’s crazy in mosh pits but then profusely apologizes after.

Trades kandi like it’s water. He’s so cute and always down to make trades.

Is absolutely big good himbo boi who drank his respecc womens juice. He will happily give them a lift on his shoulders and will fight everybody who disrespects any girl at the raves. Douchebag Chads beware.

Relies on Katsuki for stuff like water and gum and shit.

Will partake in some “party favors” and makes sure he doesn’t dose too high so he can keep an eye out for the females in his group. E, Molly and Acid are a yes. Shrooms scare him

His rave name is totally Daddy Shark or Jaws or something shark related.

Unbreakable gives Kiri great strength which, much like Izuku, makes him one of the packmules for festivals. Also keeps him unscathed by moshpits and makes him a terror to Chads that are quick to throw hands.

Tsuyu Asui

Was invited to a show by Jirou at first but always tags along with Izuku and Ochaco and Shoto. The bigger the crowd the better.

I feel like while she’s very cute and bubbly, her outfits are more on the conservative side. Still cute and slightly sexy but she’s heavy on the frog aesthetic. Lots of greens and Froggies. Braid to keep her hair out of the way.

Also very mainstream. House heavy. Pop main.

Comfy shoes are a must. Has a camel back that is always filled with water. Carries a giant fan and always has Kandi. During the day, she likes to carry an umbrella so the sun isn’t such a pain.

Has tried “party favors” and every now and again she’ll partake. Prefers super light drinking around her group tho.

Is hit on but is always very nice to turn people down. She’s more focused on the fun and her friends rather than hooking up or anything.

Her froggy quirk isn’t of too much in the rave environment other than using that long tongue to reign in her wander friends.

Denki Kaminari

Was introduced to raving by Jirou and loves it. He’s definitely her hype machine, promoting her shows, pushing merch and even volunteering to use his quirk for lighting during her sets.

Will definitely join the Bakusquad at the hard style and dubstep stages. Also loves techno and moombatah. Loves the high energy stuff.

Neons and glow in the darks are big in his rave wardrobe. Can and will rock fishnets with pride. Tank tops are more common but will go shirtless if it gets too hot or he gets too touchy feely. Kind of a cyberpunk feel sometimes.

Is a die hard kandi kid. Usually has them in the theme of video games or anime. Basically his arms are covered in kandi but the ones from his friends stay safe in a Fanny pack.

As an avid raver, he knows what you need and has it when you need it. Chapstick? Check. Gum? Tons. Lighters? Honey it’s a sin that you’re even asking.

Absolutely partakes in “party favors” and gets very handsy and flirtatious. Is respectful but can be a handful. Usually ends up being babysat by Jirou. E, Molly, acid and shrooms.

Is a huge flirt. I personally feel like he’s Pan so the whole crowd is fair game for his flirting. Hella good kisser with guys girls and non binaries. Uses his quirk for minimal stimulation.

His quirk is definitely a raver’s delight. He’s usually the one helping power people’s phones, helping keep machines running in the off chance the power surge is too much. Uses it for stimulation during make out sessions or light shows. Will also give light shows. Can’t do it for too long though because the light shows require a lot of focus on maintaining the output to smaller levels.

His rave name is Pikachu and I’m not taking any arguments/complaints/criticisms.

Tenya Iida

Was invited a rave and didn’t mind it but too chaotic for his taste.

He’s usually the guy working the rave at the water stands, merch stands or medical tent.

Rave dad vibes. Yells to not run, drink water and highly discourages use of “party favors”.

Has been hit on a couple times but is a dork and it usually goes over his head.

T-shirts and cargo shorts are his staple outfit. Always with a camel pack

His engine quirk helps him get from one end of the festival grounds to the other in no time flat so he has a specific path for him to run through cuz those speeds will knock a bitch out.

Even though he doesn’t really rave he was given a rave name and it’s Sonic.

Mina Ashido

The epitome of a fucking rave queen. She’s one of the other reasons that everybody else got into raving.

Is everywhere. She listens to a bit of everything. Loves the energy of dubstep, loves shuffling to techno, can and will throws elbows in a mosh pit at a hard style stage and will sing with you at the mainstream stages.

She’s definitely a brand ambassador and wears all the cutest outfits with the coolest patterns and most awesome styles. Tastefully sexy outfits that show off just enough.

Absolutely a kandi kid. Very alien friendly themed kandi. Full arms of traded kandi and kandi that is yet to be traded.

She’s a super bright personality that draws people in. She gets equal attention from guys and girls and non binaries and will gladly make out with anybody that gives her a good vibe.

Definitely partakes in “party favors”. Loves Kandi Flipping and Jedi flipping. Is the kind to chew her cheek raw so she needs either a pacifier or lots of gum.

For obvious reasons, her quirk is a no no. Shooting acid everywhere? Yea let’s not.

Her rave name is Alien Queen or ET Babe

Hanta Sero

Absolutely loves raving and I’m gonna stick with the Latino HC. He is a moombatah and trap king. Also loves artists like Deorro that have a lot of Latin fusion in their stuff. When “Bailar” came out, he played it for hours on end.

Very lax clothes. Very much stoner style. But on rare occasions he goes with the Chad aesthetic. Has that undercut but with longer hair up top style and will often swing it it up in a man bun.

He’s a promoter for sure. Usually has access to backstage because he gets in good with DJs.

Does use “party favors” but is mainly 4/20 friendly. Loves shotgunning. Is usually the guy that carries extra “party favors”. Will def go on an acid or shroom trip with first timers.

Very sexually fluid so good vibes are pretty much all that are required. Hella god dancer and uses that to his advantage.

Has all the essentials. Especially lighters. Is the one that remembers the eye drops.

His rave name is definitely Papi or Rey (Spanish for King).

His quirk is another one that doesn’t have much use other than to wrangle in his wandering friends.

Momo Yaoyorozu

Wasn’t keen on going at first but when she saw that even Shoto was going, she thought she’d give it a try. Is another rich kid so does have the VIP access for the sake of having a good/comfy place to sit and rest.

Mainstream for sure. Very pop heavy vibes. Some house and trance

Very much the rave mom. Keeping everybody hydrated and safe.

Given that her quirk relies heavily on her energy and all that, she doesn’t partake in party favors

Tries to keep it cute but usually ends up looking more on the sexy side.

She’s been convinced to be a brand ambassador for the sake of modeling the clothes. But she always asks for the more covered up options.

Is too busy taking care of everybody to worry about meeting people.

Her quirk is perfect for raving. Being able to create anything certainly has come in handy. Makes her a god send to those who forgot something like lighter, chapstick, hair tie etc.

Her rave name would probably be Mama Momo.

Hitoshi Shinsou

Now this guy is heavy into psy-trance. Think more along the lines of artists like Infected Mushroom.

He’s the connect that everybody goes to. Meaning yes, he partakes in party favors. Particularly the psychedelics like shrooms and acid.

Very cyber punk/street wear vibes. Comfy but still fits that aesthetic. Absolutely uses either his voice mask or a gas mask.

He gives the mysterious vibe so he has a lot of people drawn to him. I feel like he gives major Pansexual vibes. He’ll mainly go make out with Denki if he’s solo.

Just a basic Fanny pack with a few things in it like gum, chapstick, lighter.

Definitely a glover. Loves giving light shows because it almost feels like he’s using his quirk.

Can use his quirk in this type of environment but the loudness makes it tricky. Will mainly use it for the purpose of making sure people take care of themselves.

Fumikage Tokoyami

I feel like Tokoyami would definitely be into more dubstep and psytrance.

He was very open minded about raving and definitely wanted to try it at least once.

Occasionally partakes in party favors but likes to be lucid.

Is also a glover like Shinsou. But with Dark Shadow, he can go all out with the tricks and visuals.

Very casual and comfortable. Baggy t shirts and sweats. Will sometimes dress with a cyber punk aesthetic if he feels like adding a little extra oomf.

Trades some kandi but not always.

Dark shadow is a conversation starter and the darkness proves to be particularly tricked but because there are constant sources of light (glow sticks, laser light shows, etc) it’s easily tamable.

Won’t put anybody on his shoulders but Dark Shadow will definitely help hoist somebody up for a better view.

Rave name would probably be things along the lines of ominous authors. So probably Edgar Allan Crow, F.T. Lovecraft, or just Lovecraft.

Keigo “Hawks” Takami

Oh this man? This man eats, sleeps, raves, repeats. He breathes PLUR.

He does partake in party favors but is responsible. He’s the one making sure you keep dosage to a minimal. E and Molly water. Acid sometimes. Shrooms make him feel funny

Can definitely afford the VIP tickets but would rather be in the crowd. Especially because he loves big groups. He’s definitely the kind of guy that gives Chad vibes when you first see him but he’s the complete opposite. Will definitely be the kind of guy to start shit with a Chad that won’t leave girls alone.

Totally shirt off the entire time. Will purposely do some subtle flexing just cuz he can.

Is totally hit on by guys gals and non binary alike. He is a looker so that’s to be expected. Usually cargo shorts are a go-to and he rocks bandanas.

Is a kandi kid for sure and loves to trade. He’s even made a few with his feathers attached but those are especially for people he REALLY vibes with.

He’s got a good mix of music taste. Will totally throw down with the hard stylers but definitely get lost and philosophical with the trancies.

Is a HELLA good kisser and uses his wings when he wants a little privacy.

Speaking of wings, those definitely come in handy at raves. I mean for one thing, they work like an umbrella when it’s hot out. Secondly they’re basically built in fans. Thirdly, they work for privacy. And he’ll totally fly you up and get you a better view of the show.

His charisma is definitely at 100 and I can totally see him getting you backstage to meet your fave artists.

The rave name is tricky but maybe Hawks will be the basic one. His friends use KFC or Red. No wait. Fuck it. Maverick or Top Gun. Something like that.

Alrighty my thirsty gremlins. I’m gonna stop this here. I’m getting a tad lazy so if there are other characters you wanna see from MHA as ravers, blow up my asks and I’ll make a part 2.

#my hero academia #mha headcanons #mha au #mha au idea #mha aus #MHA Rave AU #bnha #Boku no Hero Academia #boku no hero headcanons #raves #EDM #EDM festivals #anime #husbandos #waifus #headcanons

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

Smutty Prompt #2 with Santi or Javier please ❤️❤️❤️

Oh, I am in a Javier mood. I hope you like it. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking! 

Pairing: Javier Pena x F! Reader Warnings: 18 + Only NSFW (Language, Angst, p in v sex) 

My Masterlist 

Prompt # 2: “You were always more than just a one night stand to me” 

The three of you sat at the bar of the airport. Steve and Javier are drinking a beer, and you with a glass of water, untouched. You were silent, arms crossed over your chest, gnawing on your bottom lip and trying not… You didn’t know; your emotions everywhere. Cry, scream, beg to go with him, you weren’t even sure what you were feeling.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” Steve stands abruptly, disturbing the silence. “You two need to talk,” he turns to Javi, “you need to fucking man up and tell her how you feel.” He turns to you, “and you need to stop pouting and talk to him before he’s gone.” You look at him, wide-eyed, mouth gaping like a fish.

“What the fu-” he ignores you and walks off fishing some quarters out of his pocket to call Connie, no doubt. You watch his retreating back before turning to the man across from you. You uncross your arms and rub your face sighing. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m supposed to say,” you mumble.

“Then how about you listen?” the chair scrapes across the floor, and your head snaps up looking at him; he sits down in Steves’s vacant chair and leans across the table closer to you. You can smell the cigarette smoke and the spice of his cologne that clings to him.

“Can you just listen to me, please?” You eye him with distrust for a moment before nodding slowly. “I fucked up. When you became my partner, I promised myself I wouldn’t have sex with you. I tried for years to suppress everything. I fucked my way through Colombia, and I know how much it bothered you.” You chew on your lip and feel your body tense when he puts a hand on your knee. “You always chew on your lips when you’re nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you bite out, and he shakes his head, pulling away. “I’m…” you look away, rubbing at your eyes, the traitor tears slowly leaking down your cheek. His hand is warm against your face wiping the tears away.

“Talk to me,” he whispers, “please.”

You turn to him, eyes soft, “I don’t want you to go.” He drops his head and lets it hang down, his hand falling from your cheek. You place a finger under his chin and bring his eyes up to yours. “You were always more than a one night stand to me,” you whisper, and his eyes bore into your own unflinching. You look away at the clock on the wall and muffle a curse standing abruptly, “come with me.”

You reach a hand out, and he grabs it rising to his feet. You leave the drinks abandoned and pulled him over to the room reserved for mothers breastfeeding, tugging him inside and latching the door closed behind you. “What are you doing?” he asks, breathless watching you strip before him. “No, no stop,” he reaches for your wrist, and you freeze. “I-I’m leaving. Fuck,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I’m probably going to jail.” 

“I am in love with you, Javier.” He straightens and looks at you, eyes stern.

“No, you’re not.”

“I am,” you pull your wrist from his grasp and continue stripping till you are bare-bottomed before him. “And,” you take a deep breath, reaching for his belt, “you love me too.” He groans, closing his eyes and dropping his head back. You push his pants down around his ankles, and he snaps his head up and opens his eyes, taking charge. He turns you around, so your back hits the wall, and he lifts you off the ground, his body pressed hard against you.

“Are you ready?” the words weigh more than just asking if your body is ready to take him. The look in his eyes tells you everything. Are you ready to join him in this mess? Are you ready to be his? Are you ready to follow him wherever he leads? Are you ready to love him?

You nod, “Yes.” He enters you in one swift thrust, the both of you groaning together at how good he feels inside you. “Fuck,” you whimper, “I’m so full.” He stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts snapping his hips into you again. You reach your hands to brace around his neck and kiss him, moaning as he seems to move even deeper inside of you.

“Shit,” he hisses, “you feel so fucking good. This pussy was made for me.” You get lost in the ecstasy of his words, clinging to him. The both of you clinging to this moment together before it’s ripped away. A thin sheen of sweat breaks across your forehead as he moves even faster, and he moves his lips to your neck and bites down. You gush onto his cock, biting his shoulder to muffle your scream as you cum around him.

“Javier,” you whimper, but he doesn’t hear so lost in the passion. His teeth biting down on the other side of your neck, marking you.

“Every fucker in this country,” he mumbles breathless, “Want them all to know you’re mine.” He bites down again, and you moan as his hips falter and you feel the hot ropes of cum paint your walls. Thighs shaking, he slowly lowers you to the floor and slips out, holding you tight, kissing your lips softly. “I-I don’t know how to tell you…” he trails off, and you cup his cheek, forcing his eyes on you.

“I know. Trust me, I know.” He nods, and you both break away to grab your clothes. “I...I have to go,” you whisper, and he nods, looking out to unlock the door.

“Yeah,” he clears his throat, “I understand.” He opens the door, and you walk out and away from him. “Wait,” he calls, and you don’t look back, forcing yourself to keep moving. He doesn’t follow, just watches your quickly retreating back. He walks back over to the bar and sits down at the table, quickly chugging down the beer and rubbing his eyes. The pain in his chest is explosive, like he’s just lost you twice.

“I told you to fucking talk to her,” Steve slaps his back, “Not make her run away. Where the fuck she go?” Javier sighs and looks up, the color draining from his face and hands shaky as he reaches for a smoke.

“She left.” Attention all passengers, we are now boarding Flight 464 to Washington DC at Gate 2. Javier stands and gives Steve a hug, the two exchange words; you run as fast as you can toward them and almost crash into Javi as you come to a stop. “What?” he asks, eyes wide, “Baby, what are you doing?”

You bend over and attempt to catch your breath, holding up the ticket, “I’m fucking going with you.” You stand, and both of them look at you, shocked. “I’m sorry, Steve,” you catch your breath, “But he’s not leaving this country without me.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Javi asks, pulling you before him, “Why? Why would you do this? You have a job to finish.”

“We had a job to finish, I’m not doing it without you. I am going with you to Washington, and we are going to fight the DEA and anything they throw at us because I want you.” Your voice cracks, and tears flood your eyes, “Please don’t expect me to live without you.”

He looks back at Steve, who shrugs, letting him know it’s up to him. Turning to look at you, Javier pulls you to his chest and kisses you softly. “Okay, baby, wherever I go, you go.” The speaker announces the flight again, and you pull away to kiss Steves’ cheek, another apology dying on your tongue as he whispers in your ear.

“Glad you two got your shit together; take care of him for me, okay?” You pull away, nodding. Javier laces his fingers with you. You both walk to the gate towards the future; whatever is waiting, you will figure it out together.

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @zannemes @xjaywritesx @lycheemi @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @jedi-mando @kesskirata @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @martellthemandalor @spacelatinoss @paintballkid711 @bisexual-space-slut @marvelprincess1994 @theatricalbride @demoncrypt1066 @goalkeepernerd @meshlamando

#Javier Peña #Javier Peña x reader #female reader #Narcos #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #Autumn Writes

[cinnabon-sith]

Theron and Lana Fake Engagement

So I made a joking post a while back that Lana and Theron would 100% get fake engaged just to piss off Theron’s parents, (which I still stand by) I imagine it going something like this:

- There’s a party held on a neutral planet for peace talks and everyone notable from The Alliance, The Empire, and The Republic are there. Nox is being a little shit but what else is new, Imperius is being the sweetest Sith Lord alive and is just trying to talk about artifacts. So overall the party is going better than anyone expected.

- Theron’s drinking with Lana when they spot Malcom. They see Malcom visibly uncomfortable with the relationships between Empire and Republic civilians and they get a horrible idea.

Theron: “Malcolm! wonderful party isn’t it?”

Malcolm: “Theron! Well this is certainly a surprise, and Lana is it? The one who got Theron tortured?”

Theron: “Dad I would appreciate if you would refrain from antagonizing my girlfriend too much.”

- With the silence that followed you could hear a pin drop. All eyes were on them in a mix of curiosity and disbelief, well all eyes except for the two cypher agents who one seemed to be giving the other credits for a bet. With a soft “I told you so...” (Nothing could probably phase them anymore.)

- Theron of course can absolutely not, not take the chance to be more extra so he gets down on one knee. Lana knows what he’s doing one second before the rest of the room does and almost bursts out laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. However, the estranged son of the Grandmaster of the Jedi order doesn’t fake propose to you every day so when in Rome and all that.

Theron: “What do you say Beniko? It’s been 7 kriffing years wanna make this official?”

Lana: “Theron I-”

Theron: “I mean you don’t HAVE to if you don’t want to. I mean it’s really not a mandatory thing-”

Lana: “Will you shut up and let me accept your idiotic proposal Shan?”

- The two hugged and Lana whispered in his ear, “The ring is positively atrocious.” And that was the Lana he knew and loved. A little later they managed some time alone considering that they were “newly engaged”

Lana: “Out of curiosity do you carry a fake engagement ring with you everywhere?”

Theron: “Hey! I’ll have you know that I carry a REAL engagement ring everywhere for FAKE proposals.”

P.S: You know I didn’t expect this to be this long I’m so sorry! And on the off chance that anyone wants to make a fanfic go for it. (Yes I ship Theron and Lana if they aren’t paired with the outlander, but their friendship is just as cute so read it how you want, the world is your metaphorical oyster)

#swtor #star wars #sw #theron shan #lana beniko #old republic #the outlander #my fics #I guess #I didn’t mean to write a Theron x Lana fanfic but sometimes weird shit just happens #jace malcom #satele shan #jedi knight #sith inquisitor #jedi consular #sith warrior #imperial agent #smuggler #republic trooper #bounty hunter #knights of the eternal throne #knights of the old republic

[shatouto]

more raised-sith anakin whump and jedi obi-wan comfort, co-written with @obiwanobi ! (also available on ao3) pls check out the rest of the series if you haven’t (it won’t make a lot of sense otherwise)

content note: non-graphic depiction of violence; mention of past sidious-style abuse; just please proceed with care

a little more

Anakin shivers alone in the nightly winds.

He counted exactly five sunsets and sunrises since the meditation incident. Obi-Wan never brought it up again, and acted like nothing happened. He still smiled and joked with such kind eyes; still asked Anakin about his progress on the newest cleaning droid in their quarters and offered to read to him before bed. Even Ahsoka never brought it up, even though Anakin was sure the Jedi would tell his apprentice about his major offense.

He couldn’t eat. He could hardly sleep. His stomach churned every time Obi-Wan said a gentle thing to him, in that usual melodic lilt of his. His breath halted every time Obi-Wan passed him by and pat his shoulder or brushed his hand. His Master had made him wait before, but never for this long without reminding him of his misdeed. But waiting time was meant to make the punishment more excruciating, so perhaps this is the point all along - that he suffers before he gets what he deserves. Or maybe the smiles are only a beautiful facade before the Jedi discards him for good. Because, let’s be frank: what worth does he have here?

The sky is a lightless inky ocean with not even a speck of starlight to speak of. Anakin turns his gaze one more time towards the lights of the Jedi dormitories. This is what he has to do, to be able to stay, he reasons. This is the only way.

He makes his way down.

The Lower Levels of Coruscant are singularly illuminated by artificial light, if they are illuminated at all. Here where celestial lights never reach, every grease-streaked face is tinted in the neon magenta and cyan of gaudy store signs, or the sickly green of long battery life storm lanterns. The alleys are perpetually murky, a certain stickiness that holds the sole of your shoes whenever you peel your feet from the ground. A cacophony of howling fight dogs echoes from afar, and the light above him flickers. Anakin doesn’t even need to glance around.

Here, there is no shortage of fists itching to throw a punch.

It takes little more than a shove and a cuss, to get himself thrown to the ground. Anakin springs back up onto his feet with ease; by then, several people, of various species and stature, have gathered around him. Some of them reeks of booze, others of blood. From there on, it’s easy.

His knuckles collide with a jaw. Bone cracks under his metallic fist. Force-blinds are no match for him; he has taken down dozens on his own when he was but a whelp under Master Sidious’s tutelage, thirteen years of age or so. That’s not to say they don’t land a good blow here and there, but a few bruises on the face are hardly more than a tickle compared to the burn scars that litter his body. When a sudden blast rings in the relative silence and misses him by a hair, Anakin grins. He whips around and uses the Force to simultaneously yank the blaster from the shooter’s hand and fling the marksman across the street. He opens fire.

Some of them fall, some of them run. Some of them remain, and then run when they see him toss the blaster away in favor of meeting them hand to hand. The more they come at him, shoot at him, the more his blood infuses with thrill. He feels renewed in misery, in the knowledge that this show of abandon will surely earn him the punishment he deserves, where all else failed. His metal fingers are capable of cutting skin, breaking bones, if he so wants, and he does. There’s blood on his hands, warm, soaking the sleeves of his too-soft robes. There has always been blood on his hand; a little more doesn’t make any difference.

When he’s done, Anakin thinks, he’ll be back in the Jedi’s quarters and kneel at the door to his bedroom. He’ll wait there, ready, so that when the sun rises, the Jedi will come and see what he has done. This is not something the Jedi can ignore in favor of delaying his punishment. He smiles and shivers at the same time at just the thought of it.

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

Obi-Wan’s startled voice runs him through like a spear. Anakin stops dead in his movements, wide-eyed. Obi-Wan? Here?

His pause promptly earns him a blaster shot to the shoulder. He snaps his head back towards the bastard who shot him, hand thrusted out in a Force-push. The shooter flies through the air and slams against a store sign. Another blaster fires.

Obi-Wan deflects it away from Anakin.

Anakin doesn’t know what’s happening anymore.

He staggers back and back away. This isn’t right. The Jedi should be asleep. He’s not meant to be in this nest of rats and vipers; not meant to know anything of this, to see Anakin in this state—just, just observe the aftermath and dispense his justice. Only the aftermath. Only when Anakin is ready.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Anakin says, his center lowered, his stance battle-ready. The scums around him scurry like cockroaches under the light of a lightsaber, even as Obi-Wan thumbs it off and clips it to his belt. “You should be in bed, not here.”

“The same could be said to you,” Obi-Wan says. Neon lights flicker on his face, his furrowed brows and tight lips, and there’s no light that’s ever been so dull, duller than the spark of dismay in his eyes that Anakin doesn’t want to acknowledge. “I would much prefer you to come back...”

“I have to be here.”

Obi-Wan is unflinching. He crosses his arms not only in a refusal to engage, but also in clear disapproval. “May I ask why?”

It’s the disapproval that makes Anakin’s heart drop.

“No,” he grits, breaths stuttering. He closes and opens his hand and warm sticky blood seeps into the cracks of his palm. If there is some semblance of a reflexive surface here, Anakin would look right into it, so desperate he is to see what color his eyes are. How does he look like to Obi-Wan right now? Does he deserve a punishment yet? Does he deserve anything?

Because if not, if he doesn’t, if he has no worth and Obi-Wan grows tired of him, he’ll be on his own again, facing the fact that he has lost everything and everyone and has nowhere to go and nothing to be. Hells, Anakin knows he shouldn’t be like this. He should be stronger than this. He shouldn’t be so weak as to fear losing any one man, let alone one Jedi, one stupid Jedi; he shouldn’t care; why does he care so much; he hates it, he hates it.

“Why are you here?” Anakin backs away, towards the source of sound - there’s a gambling den nearby, where he could conceivably squirrel himself away. “What are you trying to do?”

Obi-Wan only raises his hands, palm forward. “To get you home. Anakin, you have...”

“Bantha shit,” Anakin spits. They’ve gathered yet again a sizable amount of curious onlookers. “What do you want, Jedi?”

“Anakin, please, calm down—”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Anakin roars, even though that is exactly what he has been seeking. Direct orders, uncomplicated. But not like this. Not with this benevolence. “If you’re not going to answer me then don’t fucking tell me what to do!” He steps back and back, and the only thing the Jedi does is match every backward step of his with one step forward of the exact same length. “Fuck you and your nice little lies; never say one straightforward thing, ever, because you’re too good for it, what a good Jedi. Just say you want to drag me back by the scruff and punish the nine hells out of me.” He gives a teeth-gritted grin. “Say it! I know you want to say it!”

Obi-Wan doesn’t even deign to look taken aback. He says nothing, does nothing, just stands there in that damned little display of harmlessness, so patient, so calm, like he’d be ready to ask for a cup of tea and sip it slowly while watching Anakin any moment now. So that’s how it is, huh?

The bystanders scatter in shrieks when one of them is suddenly lifted in the air, scrabbling at their neck with strangled noises. Anakin’s eyes are not even on them; he glares at the Jedi as his fingers curl. “Say it.”

Obi-Wan finally moves. He stands between the hapless stranger and Anakin. His eyes harden, the shadows on his face sharpen, and his voice turns steel-cold. “No.” He takes Anakin wrist in a vise-tight grip. “Let them go. Stop this, now.”

Finally.

Anakin lets go. Not just of the person, but of everything. He drops to his knees with his wrist still in Obi-Wan’s hand, and when it’s released, his arm swings down limply, colliding with his thigh in a dull slap. His head hangs as his eyes squeeze shut. He tucks his tongue back and tries not to wonder what it’ll be this time - lightning or lightsaber burn, electro-whip lashes or an invisible hand around his neck, water running over his face or the cold hard curved confines of the Sphere...

But nothing comes.

“Anakin.”

Obi-Wan’s voice has always been very soft for someone so capable at fighting; even so, this is probably the gentlest tone he’s used yet.

“Anakin,” he says again, and the name feels safe in his mouth.

Anakin won’t be fooled. His Master liked to lull him into a sense of safety during his lessons, coaxing him to let down his guard just to strike harder after and make sport of his tattered body. He should know better. He should…

“Anakin, please, look at me.”

Obi-Wan’s voice is worth a little more pain.

He opens his eyes to find Obi-Wan’s. The Jedi is crouched before him, close enough to touch if he wanted to. But he doesn’t. Anakin can’t decipher the look on his face or even the hand hanging in the air between them that doesn’t have a lightsaber in it ready to strike him or lightning to burn him.

“That’s it,” Obi-Wan says. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Anakin doesn’t dare to breathe too hard.

Obi-Wan’s brows knit together. “I could not understand why you would leave in the midst of a night to do this. Where have I wronged you?” He sighs again into silence. “You scared me, Anakin.”

A punishable offense. So here’s Obi-Wan Kenobi, listing his sins before punishing him, ordering him to keep his eyes open in wait of the punishment to come. Anakin stares at him, eyes stinging, waiting. But instead of the burning of a blade on his back or a slow Force-choke around his neck, calloused fingers find his wrist. They move lightly above his skin, cautious, taking their time as if to unravel the tension under his flesh, wrapping around his hand. Anakin braces himself for the twist, for the sudden deceit and pain. Instead, Obi-Wan's thumb starts rubbing slow circles on the back of his hand.

“May I take care of you, then?” Obi-Wan asks, and something in his voice breaks a bit. “You’re hurt, dear one.”

These last words are like a saber to his heart. Anakin never thought Obi-Wan could be this cruel.

“Don’t,” he chokes out his last defiance, as his fists start trembling, “don’t call me that.” He bows his head deeply and shuts his eyes and goes as still and silent as possible. His insides are curling in on themselves, yet he doesn’t dare move. He’s nearly holding his breath, as the air moves around him. Fabric rustles, and he can feel arms drawing around him, and This is it he thinks, this is it, the pain will come and he will finally be released—

Obi-Wan pulls him to his chest.

This is not right. This is not real. This can’t be true. Nobody could be this gentle; nobody could forgive just like that, not with the insults and insolence and innumerable unpunished offenses old and new. Anakin does not get touched like this. He should not. His shoulders are squared stiff and his muscles constrict so hard that he starts shaking. He can barely breathe, because every breath knives into his tightened throat. His nose stings and his eyes burn and he gasps for air, only to take in a sharp sob.

“Please don’t… Please don’t do this to me.” Anakin gulps, clutching his own torso, fearful of the sudden warmth and tenderness. “Just—just punish me, I deserve it, please punish m—” He nearly bites his tongue trying to suppress the next sob. Tears always angered his Master. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I beg of you, please stop making me wait, Master, I’m sorry, please, just…”

Obi-Wan pulls back only to take Anakin’s face in his hands. Thumbs wipe over his cheekbones. “I’m not your Master,” he hushes, brushing hair back from Anakin’s forehead. “I’m not going to punish you, Anakin.”

And then Obi-Wan does the unthinkable: he lowers his outermost mental shields. He lets Anakin in, on his own. His concern scatters across the expanse of his psyche like gemstones, like blinking stars. His words are as true as the moon. I would like to bring you home. I would like to keep you safe. Obi-Wan’s hand cradles the base of his skull. Lips press into his hair. I would like to see you smile.

Anakin’s mouth falls open in a wail. He smushes his face against the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck and soaks his robes with tears. He cries his throat raw and parched, cries until his jaws tremble, his teeth clatter, his head goes light. He lets go of his own flanks and bunches his fists into Obi-Wan’s robes instead. Obi-Wan’s arms are wrapped firmly around him like a promise.

Anakin hiccups one last time, and sags.

—

Ahsoka paces near the Temple’s gate. The Temple Guards glance at her every once in a while, and she’s a little bit annoyed, maybe, but that’s nothing compared to the worry brewing in her chest right now. Dawn is peeking at the horizon, and her Master is nowhere to be found.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” she mutters to herself, flooding her and Obi-Wan’s bond with the rightful amount of indignation. You should’ve taken me with you, Master!

She’s surprised to feel Obi-Wan’s response immediately. A brief sense of reassurance, and a nearness - he’s approaching. His presence is too mired in concerns for her to make out the exact message, but she gets the sentiment. Her worries go through and mirror his own. They’re probably worrying about the same thing, then.

Ahsoka knows Obi-Wan is back before he’s even within sight. Yet the sight of him still suffuses her with equal parts relief and amazement. In the light of dawn, her Master marches into the Jedi Temple, a gentle silhouette against the rosy sky. Limp in his arms, head pillowed on his shoulder, is Anakin No-Name, formerly known as Darth Vader, currently unconscious.

“Let them both in.” Ahsoka tells the Temple Guards, showing them her datapad. “Words from Master Yoda.”

Obi-Wan looks at her gently, mouthing a soft thank. Her steps fall beside his, and for a while there are only the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the great hall.

“Master.” Her eyes flick to Anakin, noting his red, puffy eyes in stark contrast with his ashen face and… are those dried tears? There is blood on the ex-Sith’s robes and on her Master’s and she sort of really wants to know which is whose. “Is he alright?”

“More or less,” Obi-Wan answers. Ahsoka frowns at him, yet he seems too deep in thoughts to notice that. She sets a hand on his arm.

“Master, the Council has…”

“I know, young one.” Obi-Wan pauses when Anakin chuffs, shuffling his arm to rearrange the ex-Sith in a more comfortable position, and continues on his way. “I would prefer you to go back to sleep. This is my responsibility to bear.”

#obikin #raised as sith anakin #always a sith anakin #ex sith anakin #so many names #star wars prequels #clem’s au #our au :’) #also im sorry i can’t take ‘kriff’ seriously #i have to say fuck #let anakin say fuck 2k21 #ALSO i wrote this last week but #i had to Exercise Some Self Control

[yoditorian]

Hello I am humbly requesting number 6 with din for your follower celebration because that man NEEDS some soft forehead kisses 🥺

Also congrats!! 💗

6. forehead kisses but it’s the male being kissed on the head

(technically all my stuff is gender neutral but i absolutely agree that din needs some soft forehead kisses STAT)

word count: 556 // warnings: one swear that’s it

main masterlist

FOLLOWER CELEBRATION!!

“How is he?”

“Asleep, finally.” Din huffs as he drops onto the sofa beside you. Part of you still finds it odd, seeing him so at ease in your home. Seeing him. But he’s slipped into your life so seamlessly it’s as though he’s always been there. 

Grogu is no different, causing mayhem everywhere he goes, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything. The little monster has been refusing every nap since he arrived, far too preoccupied with his new home to even think about sleeping. You don’t blame him, you’d been much the same when you decided to stay, but fifty year old magical babies get cranky when they’re overtired. 

Din catches your hand in his when you lift it to brush through his hair, pulling you closer as he presses soft kisses on each of your knuckles. You’d never let yourself be foolish enough to imagine a life with him at all, let alone something as domestic as this. Curled up together in your home while a baby sleeps in the next room. Your baby. Din had asked as soon as he got back from the new Jedi temple, the kid under his arm and a nervous flush on his cheeks. You had stammered through the Mandalorian adoption vows as best you could alongside him. 

“You know he steals my tools when he wants attention now? Little shit made me chase him and my pilex driver around the workshop for ten minutes.” You wallow in the way his chuckle rumbles through his body at the image of Grogu levitating things off of your desk. The way Din’s joy is so carefree now, the way he passes out smiles and jokes and affection is worth all the stolen tools in the world. Sure, you’ll have to finish the speeder bike in the morning, but that’s a small price to pay for a game with your kid. 

“Thank you.” He mumbles into your shoulder and you know he doesn’t just mean for today. He’s talking about every day, every day since the first day you smiled at him and gave him your name. He’s talking about all the times you opened yourself up to him just a little bit more, all the times you trusted him and all the times you proved he could trust you. He does, implicitly, unconditionally. You’ve never given him any reason to doubt. 

You swing your leg over Din’s and settle yourself in his lap, nose to nose. You’ll never get tired of being this close to him, of being able to look him in the eye and not doubt yourself, of knowing he loves you. With everything he has.

He hums contentedly when you drop a kiss on his forehead, and then another, and another, and then he’s laughing as you start to pepper little kisses all over his cheeks. Actually, honestly, laughing. It might be your favourite sound in the whole galaxy.

“Bedtime?” He asks when you pause in your attack to suppress a yawn, seizing the opportunity to kiss along your cheekbone and skim his hands over the scars on your back. 

“Yeah, bedtime.” You smile and kiss him again, a gentle press of lips on lips and you feel his fingers still as he sinks a little further into you. This is worth it, this right here.

TAGLIST (add yourself here):

@brothersdrxke @keeper0fthestars @thevoiceinyourheadx @firstofficerwiggles @1800-fight-me @ew-erin @chatterbean

#im not saying this is post lacuna but there are Hints #its up to you #liz's follower celebration!! #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #liz does words #sfw

[thicctails]

Summer of Whump Day 11 [Whipping/Branding]

I took this one WAY farther than it was meant to be taken. I’m sorry Omega babey I promise I’ll never do something this bad again :(

Ω

  It had happened at the worse possible time.

 Upon waking up after her encounter with the Quill Stalker, Omega had found that she had been returned to the ship. Tech was looking her over, asking of she felt dizzy or nauseous. She hadn’t, but even after she’d told him such, he had insisted on staying with her. He had been tense, and he kept looking around, like he expected something to attack him. When Rex came around the corner holding his blaster, he twitched back a bit. She could feel the stress he was feeling, and it had made her nervous as well.

 “You feeling better, kiddo?” Rex had asked.

 “Y-yeah, I’m alright. Are you staying with us?” She’d questioned.

 “Not for long. We’re headed to Bracca to find a Jedi cruiser. Once we’re done there, I’ll be off.” He’d explained.

 “A Jedi cruiser? Why do you need to find one of those?” Omega had asked, sitting up.

 “Rex is going to help us remove the inhibitor chips. They are… more of a threat than we previously thought.” Tech had said, shifting uncomfortably.

 Omega had looked at Tech, than at Rex, then back at Tech. The younger clone was clearly becoming more and more stressed and uncomfortable the longer Rex was in the room, and she had realized that she could pick up prickles of fear in Tech. Her eyes had flicked to Rex’s blaster, and she had realized that Tech thought that Rex might shoot him. That hadn’t made any sense to her, Wrecker had said that Rex was their friend, and why would a friend harm them?

 She hadn’t felt any warning buzzing, so she had merely put on a smile and placed a hand on Tech’s arm, causing his attention to shift to her.

 “That’s good! It means that the Empire can’t ever control you.” She’d said, which had made him smile.

 The air in the ship had never lost its tense feeling as they flew to a dusty, scrap-covered planet. Omega hadn’t even wanted to think about the number of ways they could all get tetanus as they made their way through the ship scrap yard. They had slunk out of view of some Scrapper Guild members, entered the ship, and started up the technology that they would need to remove the chips.

 And that is where everything went to shit.

 That oh so familiar shriek in the back of her mind had been her only warning. Confused, she’d looked around, trying to figure out where the sudden danger was coming from. Everything seemed fine, Tech was working on Wrecker while Rex and Hunter tried to usher her out of the room as they talked. She’d hesitated, then turned to tell Hunter about her feeling.

 “W-wrecker!”

 Omega spun, her eyes going wide at the impossible sight before her. Wrecker had Tech by the throat, lifting the man off the ground as he struggled for air.

 “You’re in direct violation of Order 66.” Wrecker’s voice was cold, so unlike his usual chipper tone. Omega became cold all over as Wrecker threw Tech against the wall, the younger clone crashing to the ground in a heap. His blaster slid across the floor, right in front of Wrecker.

 The events following that moment went by in a blur. Hunter had grabbed her, pulling her behind cover as the sound of blaster fire exploded into the room. Her ears rang as her heart began to beat wildly. She couldn’t understand. Wrecker’s chip wasn’t supposed to activate!

 Hunter had told her to stay with Tech, and while she was glad she had managed to save Hunter from being killed by his own brother, she was now finding herself in the most terrifying chase of her life.

     Omega panted, slinking back farther into the shadows. She shivered, griping the blaster with more force than what was necessary. Somehow, she’d managed to dodge Wrecker long enough to end up in the cruiser’s lower levels. Sweat poured down her face and neck, and she took a second to wipe some of the liquid out of her eyes. It was hot down here, steam bursting out through cracks in the floor. It seemed that this ship laid atop some sort of steam vent, and Omega took care to avoid the places that the steam hissed through. She knew that steam was water that was very, very hot, and so that touching it would hurt.

 Wrecker’s heavy footsteps echoed out into the open space, the degrading metal floor groaning a bit under his weight. Omega cowered back, holding her breath as he passed by. Luckily, she was on his blind side, so he didn’t see her. His face was pulled into a serious frown, his brown eyes void of any light as he scanned the room. Wrecker had always been a fun, reliable protector to Omega, and despite his size, she’d always felt completely safe with him. That feeling of security was gone now, shot dead point blank. Terror replaced it, and she felt something unfamiliar sitting heavily in her chest. The emotion was a mix of shock, anger, and deep sadness. She hated it.

 A burst of steam broke through a crack in the floor in front of her, causing her to yelp and stumble back. Omega scrambled to her feet, tears that had been steadily building spilling out as the hulking clone turned towards her.

 “Wrecker,” She started, quickly darting to the side as Wrecker stomped towards her, “Wrecker please stop! This isn’t you!”

 “All rouge clones will be terminated.” Wrecker snarled, reaching out to grab her.

 Omega raised the blaster, her hands shaking as she pointed it at Wrecker. Tears blurred her vision, and her voice broke as she pleaded with the man.

 “Just- just stop! I don’t wanna have to hurt you!” She kept backing up, not sure if she would actually be able to take the shot. This was Wrecker, he was family.

 The choice was violently ripped away from her as the enhanced clone gripped the blaster and threw it aside. Omega stared up at Wrecker, her shiny brown eyes wide and pleading. Her previous words had no effect on the clone, however, and she quickly found herself unable to breathe. Her throat muscles burned under the crushing force, and she kicked wildly, her minuscule leg muscles not allowing her to do any damage to the hulking giant. She was too panicked to try and call out to the Force, and thus was left to claw at Wrecker’s hand. She tried to speak, to once again attempt to reason with her mind-controlled guardian, but the pressure on her windpipe was too great, and she could only silently move her lips. Wrecker was still walking forward, and she could feel the air behind her getting hotter and hotter, the sound of hissing steam just barely audible over the sound of blood rushing in her ears. She thrashed, her lungs burning from the lack of oxygen.

 Then, without warning, she was slammed against the metal wall. The pain was immediate, and Omega actually managed to force out a choked squeak as she screamed. The scorching metal burned through her shirt easily, leaving her back exposed to its monstrous heat. Her skin split, blistering under the touch of the boiling steam. Blood sizzled against the red-hot steel of the ship, splattering up onto her burning flesh.

 Omega’s pupils were pinpricks in a sea of caramel, the black dots nearly lost to the colour. She was beyond panic at this point, beyond any form of rational thinking. Her body was in survival mode, and it screamed out to the Force, reacting as soon as the power was summoned. Wrecker flew back, the armored man smashing into the wall across the room. No longer supported, Omega dropped, her seizing body hitting the floor with a thud.

 She lay there, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her brain was having a meltdown, not sure if it could feel the pain, or if the nerves in her back had been melted away. Breathing took a great amount of effort, and Omega saw spots of black and deep cyan dance in her vision. The only sound she heard was the ringing in her ears, loud and unyielding. She couldn’t lift her head, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think.

 Wrecker shifted, but she didn’t notice. Her mind was elsewhere, shutting itself down in a desperate attempt to preserve Omega’s psyche. The tank of a human shook his head, glaring at the quaking child. He got to his feet, a trail of blood dripping down over his blind eye. He stepped forward, ready to finish the job.

 Bam!

 Wrecker saw nothing but darkness, only just aware of the fact that he was now falling forward.

   Rex stood in the doorway, freezing up in shock at the sight of Omega. He dropped his blaster and ran over to her, hands hovering above her broken form. There was blood everywhere, the floor beneath the girl stained red. What parts of her back that weren’t covered in blisters were burnt black or pulsing an angry red. The smell of burnt flesh made him want to vomit, but he swallowed his gorge as he tried to figure out how to help. Disturbingly, Omega was still awake, her eyes blown wide as she shuddered uncontrollably.

 “Oh kriff, oh kriff.” He said, his hands shaking as he gently touched Omega’s shoulder. The sight of a young child being so brutally injured made him feel sick. For a brief second, he saw another young girl laying on the metal floor, one that he knew far better than Omega. He shook his head. No. She was safe, and Omega needed his full attention.

 It was the middle of her back that was the most damaged, with the area just below her neck and her most lower back being mostly untouched, minor burns spotting the skin around the edges. Carefully, Rex positioned his arms so that he was only touching the unburned skin. He lifted Omega up, holding the injured child as gently as possible.

 “It’s okay, ad'ika. You’re safe now, I promise.” He soothed, quickly moving out of the room. Wrecker wouldn’t be stunned forever, so he needed to get Omega somewhere safe so that he could administer the sedative. Glancing down, he saw that Omega had, thankfully, passed out. Whether it was from pain, shock, or pure exhaustion, he didn’t know, but it was better that she wasn’t awake right now.

    Hunter groaned, bringing a hand to his head. His neck felt like it had been stepped on by an obese bantha on all sides, and he rubbed the sore muscles. How had-

 He shot up. Wrecker’s chip had activated, he’d drawn his brother away, he’d been choking, then Omega had…!

 “OMEGA!” He yelled, jumping off the medical cot he’d been lying on. He whipped his head around, searching for the little girl. Panic seized him when he couldn’t find her, his mind automatically assuming the worst.

 ‘Oh, Maker. Oh, Maker NO! She’s dead! She’s dead and it’s my fault! I couldn’t protect her! I-’

 “Hunter!”

 Rex’s voice broke him out of his hysteria. The commander raised his hands, speaking to Hunter like one would a wounded animal.

 “Easy, soldier. Omega’s alive. Wrecker too.” He said calmly.

 Hunter breathed, his panic ebbing away for a moment, before he realized that Rex had worded his statement oddly.

 “Is Omega alright?” He asked immediately, narrowing his eyes when Rex didn’t respond right away. “You said that she was alive, but is she alright, Rex?”

 The blonde clone looked away. Hunter’s stomach dropped.

 “No.” He said, his eyes widening. “No, no,no,no! She’s just- Wrecker wouldn’t- where is she?! What happened?!”

 “Easy, Hunter.” Rex said. “Calm down.”

 “NO!” He roared, protective instincts surging through him. “Where is she?!”

 “I’m not telling you anything until you calm down! Don’t make me stun you, Hunter!” Rex shouted right back.

 Fuming, Hunter reluctantly sat down. He growled under his breath, his gaze sharp as he eyed Rex. While the man was one of his vode, he was withholding information regarding Omega’s well being, which pissed him off to no end.

 “Thank you. I’m sorry, Hunter, but I had to be sure that your fight with Wrecker didn’t activate your chip.” Rex’s face softened, like he understood Hunter’s anger and anxiety. “Omega is in a safe room nearby. She needed to be treated with bacta as soon as possible. Luckily, some of the medical cabinets still had supplies.”

 “Bacta? Why the hell would she need that?” Hunter asked, worry making his brow wrinkle.

 “Omega managed to get all the way down to the cruiser’s lower levels before Wrecker caught up to her. I got there before he could kill her, but not before he managed to… to…” Rex shook his head, and Hunter felt his blood turn to ice. “Hunter, you have to understand. The chip takes away all of your control. You can’t stop it, no matter how hard you try.”

 “Before he managed to what?” Hunter growled.

 “Before he managed to shove her against burning metal. The steam and hot steel caused severe damage to her back. We’re looking at third, maybe forth degree burns.” Rex finished.

 Hunter blanched, suddenly feeling nauseous and cold. He’d been burned before, the blaster bolt scars on his back and arms were there to prove it. However, those were only second degree burns, and he had been put into a bacta tank as soon as possible. To imagine Omega going through even greater pain made him burn with anger. If he ever managed to get his hands on the people that had put the chips in their heads, he’d make sure they died a slow, painful death.

 “Oh, Maker.” He said, pinching the space between his eyes. “Oh, Maker why? Why is it always her?”

 “Do you want to see her? I need to stay here until Tech and Echo wake up, but I’ll take you to her.” Rex asked, his voice quiet.

 “Yes. Yes, please.” Hunter said quickly, following Rex as he led him towards a little medical bay. He moved inside immediately, pausing when he saw a curled up Omega. Most of the back of her shirt had been cut away, and a generous helping of bacta had been applied to an ugly burn. Hunter couldn’t bare to look at the injury for long, and instead moved to drag a chair close to the medical cot Omega was lying on. As Rex returned to his brothers, Hunter ran a hand through Omega’s hair.

 “Oh, ik'aad. Fate owes you an apology and a break.” He rasped, touching his forehead to hers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you.”

 He pulled back slightly, his hand still petting her head soothingly. He felt his eyes mist slightly, and he quickly rubbed the tears away. No. He couldn’t break down now, not when Omega needed him. When his aliit needed him.

 He racked his memory for some idea of what he should do to provide Omega with some form of comfort. He recalled seeing parents sing to their children sometimes, so he tried to think of a song. He didn’t know many, so he simply hummed one that he had heard a dad sing to his three children on one of his missions. His throat rumbled as he hummed, aching as he made it vibrate. He ignored it, willing to be in a bit of pain if it meant that there was a chance that Omega would find some comfort from it.

    Hunter remained there until Rex came to get him for is chip removal, quietly humming any tune that he could make up. He hesitated, not wanting to leave Omega alone.

 “Come on, buir. She’ll be okay, Tech is going to stay with her.” Rex’s voice held a note of teasing, and Hunter flushed a bit.

 “I’m not-” He started, but paused when Rex rolled his eyes.

 “Don’t try and deny it. You acted like a mother narglatch who’s baby had been threatened a few hours ago.” He said.

 Hunter sputtered, but Rex just jerked his thumb towards the space behind him. “Come on, let’s get that chip out.”

          Crosshair lowered his rifle, watching as the two Scrapper Guild members fell into a pit of jagged, twisted metal. Making his way up a fallen wire, he climbed up into the Jedi cruiser. He’d been sent here when a sudden chip activation had been reported.

 It seemed his brothers weren’t as immune as they had previously thought.

#big oooof #this was outta pocket im sorry #the prompt was branded and i went beyond that #still counts tho #the bad batch #star wars #star wars the bad batch #omega bad batch #omega whump #The Bad Batch episode 7 #the bad batch spoilers #i mean some things are different obviosuly #but also some stuff is the same #hunter bad batch #wrecker bad batch #tech bad batch #echo bad batch #captain rex #rex clone wars #tw blood #tw burns #tw child harm #tw gore #crosshairs bad batch #summerofwhump #summerofwhump[11]