#rich jedi content

[elibeeline]

"Ello chap. Name's 'Arry. 'Arry Pottah. This is my wife, Megan Fox, uh, we have six children. Brian, Bekah, Brandon, Brando, Brandy, and Bailey. Um, we're here to buy a car- carriage, a carriage."

#the encounter table #have i mentioned i love this podcast? im half an hour into episode three and there's been some great content so far #previously the kids were all J names with a popular being 'Jedi' #'im the boy who lived. i-im still relevant' and he just starts sobbing and hyperventilating #while everyone's telling him to do his breathing exercises #'can we get a horse named voldemort' 'oh my god yes megan you genius this is why i married you' #'youre rich how do you get them to lower the price' 'i dont have to do that' 'shit youre rich i forgot'

[mgparker]

the bodyguard- din djarin

DIN DJARIN X F!ROYAL!READER [SERIES]

summary: tensions rise as the princess of the dystopian planet eiria finally approaches the age in which she will take the throne. despite her reluctance, she finds herself under the protection of the infamous mandalorian.

warnings: female reader, given surname, implied hair length (medium to long), little mandalorian content but that’ll change in the next chapter, world building, time jumps, elusiveness (for plot development), unedited so beware

series masterlist!

*ੈ✩‧₊˚. i. a stranger in my room *ੈ✩‧₊˚.

Long before the fall of the Jedi Order, there'd been peace. Harmony amongst those who made their way in the galaxy. Tranquility and above all, happiness.

Even in these times, Eiria was such place that many people could only dream of. A planet so ethereal and utopian it was a wonder that it truly existed.

Luscious greenery covered its surface, slipping through the cracks and edges of its magnificent buildings, built on a foundation of gold. Technologically advanced in its own right, humble and simple where it mattered.

Technology was only used to ensure the safety of its citizens, otherwise Eiria was a world untouched by the horrors of the galaxy. Kept safe by its council of leaders that had been appointed and passed down along the generations.

It hadn't always been led by this council. No, Eiria was a royal world. Since its first taste of civilization, the hand of a ruler had governed the lands...

But when the former king and queen fell ill to a sickness that had wiped out over a quarter of Eiria's population over ten years ago, the leadership of the planet had fallen onto the shoulders of a council that had existed long before their reign.

All left from their rule, besides the sparkling scenery and magnificent buildings they'd had built overtime, was their daughter.

She'd been spared from the wicked disease that had claimed the lives of her parents, taken under the wing of her father's closest friend and advisor, Senator Phex Dameron.

The Princess was as stubborn as she was loyal, dedicated to her people until her last breath, a weight on her shoulders since the moment she was born. Thrust upon her the crushing responsibility of royalty, only to be spared her teenage years and emerging adulthood.

Every day, she thanked the maker that her parents had decreed she wouldn't take the throne until she had reached twenty one cycles — even if it was solely to secure that the throne would remain in their families for cycles to come. You see, a leader could be challenged if they were deemed too young to take the throne. To avoid that from happening, the King and Queen had signed into law that should need arise, the Council would take over all governing responsibilities and otherwise until the Princess was of suitable age.

At just twenty cycles old, the last Altair was on the dawn of a new age...

But along with it, came the danger.

The Princess of Eiria stares ahead, cold and calculating, teeth gritted together, seething beneath the carefully constructed surface, and swears that one day she will never have to answer to anyone again.

Before you, a panel of men, women and creatures alike, watching you with those greedy, overbearing eyes. It's not you that wears a mask, it's them. With their false pretenses, the caring acts behind worried gazes.

They don't care about you. They care about the wealth. The riches. Getting in the good graces of the Senator.

You expect he'll be elected any day now. It's only a matter of time and until then, and even after, the Council will put on those infuriating masks.

The Senator stares at you without the mask. In fact, there's no expression on his face at all. Except for the hint of pity you sense from his body language. You've known him too long to not see it right away.

A twinge of annoyance hits you. This is partly his fault-- what pity could he be feeling?

You should probably speak now. Not to the Council or to the Senator. But to him.

As angry as you were, he was only here to do his job. You'd do your best to keep him out of your path of fury.

You politely tell him your name, though it's not needed, and thank him for accepting the Senator's offer of serving as your protector.

After all, the Mandalorian will be following your every step from now on. It's best to be on civil terms for both your sanities.

You ignore everyone else in the Council Chamber.

The Mandalorian gives one curt nod.

Normally, you'd be irked by his silence but in this moment, you're grateful for it. You spin toward the door, guarded by two Jedi knights the Senator had sent for.

You bite the inside of your cheek and stride for the exit.

"Sunshine," it's the Senator. You stop. "It's for the best. You'll thank me in the future."

You don't turn around. Heavy footsteps follow behind you.

You doubt it.

It's been exactly three days since your world was further more flipped on its axis.

The remnants of grief over your recent loss had been overshadowed by the irritation you felt over the presence of the Mandalorian.

It isn't his fault. You constantly try to remind yourself, even as you furiously glare at the stupid tin helmet that rests over his head. He's just doing his job and you're not making it any easier.

It was on day three that you made this realization.

"I'm sorry if I've been... cold towards you. We’ve barely said a word since we’ve met.”

“Don’t apologize,” his raspy modulator replies stoicly. “Socializing isn’t exactly in the job description.”

You bite the inside of your cheek and glare at your own reflection in the vanity mirror you sit before. The reminder that your only regular company, other than the Senator, was here by obligation sours your attempt to befriend the Mandalorian.

“Right. Well, as much as I’ve enjoyed your silent shadow hovering over me for the past seventy-two hours, I highly doubt watching me every waking second is in your job description either.”

He stays silent, despite your bait.

You have no problem going on, combing your hair absentmindedly. “Perhaps you should be doing other things. Surely the rest of the castle requires some sort of surveillance. The Council would pay handsomely.”

“My job here is strictly to keep you under my protection, Princess.”

Your lip curls slightly. “Well, as you can see the windows are shut, my balcony bolted and the biggest threat to me at the moment is tangling my hair in this brush. So I would kindly request that your services extend to the exterior of my quarters please. I’d like some privacy please.”

You’re trying to be as polite as possible. You really are, but there’s only so much stoic silence from a metal man hovering in one of the corners of every room you enter that you could take.

All your life you’d been as independent as a member of the royal family could be. The Senator had made sure of that— and it was partly the reason you were still so angry with him over this arrangement. So going from that to this, it was not going well for you. Not at all. Especially since your new stalker didn’t seem to make any noises or speak any words beside ‘yes’, ‘no’, or some bullshit answer to any specific question you’d ask. But only if it was job-related, otherwise, he was an unmoving, nonverbal statue.

Three days with the Mandalorian and you were beginning to absolutely despise his beskar helmet and the nonexistent sense of security the Council had believed he’d bring.

This was all done for their benefit. Not yours.

You didn’t need protection before and you certainly don’t need it now. He served no purpose but to make you uncomfortable under his unbreaking gaze.

“I will be right outside the door, your Highness.”

Your eyes jolt up to him in pure surprise. You had been expecting the usual silence, for him to ignore your request as he did all the other times you’d told him you didn’t require his unwavering surveillance.

Maybe the fact that you’d pointed out every single enter and exit strategy finally convinced him, but you couldn’t know for sure. Not with that obscure helmet.

You dismiss your thoughts and almost catch yourself beaming at his reflection in the corner of your room. “Thanks,” you breathe, opting for a smaller smile, filled with gratitude.

He nods once and then leaves.

You release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

The first thought that crosses your mind is one you dismiss just as quickly as it arose. The small traces of adolescence that cling on to you tempt you to sneak away from the Mandalorian. Break the rules. See how far you could run before he caught up to you.

But you dismiss it. Because you’re loyal to your people and you know why he’s here despite you not agreeing to all the dramatics.

The Senator claims this is all for your protection. That coming of age and taking the throne would likely bring danger as those who wished to rule the throne would start creeping out of the hiding places they’d taken residence in since the death of your parents.

But it itches beneath your skin the longer you gaze over at the crack under your bedroom door, the shadow of his feet unmoving and steady.

You could run. Make a little game out of it. See if he’s really as qualified as Senator Dameron says he is.

You sigh quietly and set the brush down very slowly. Your heart pounds in anticipation, a plan forming in your mind.

As quickly and stealthily as possible, you slip out of your casual gown into a pair of very unladylike trousers and a tunic that you laced up tightly.

You brainstorm different ways to make your exit. Maybe you could cough or somehow force a sneeze? Some way to let your Mandalorian know you were still unsuspiciously lounging in your quarters.

You decide against it, instead doing your best to unlock your windows without making so much as a creak. Surprisingly, it’s not all too difficult.

The window swings open, both panels nearly knocking into the stone exterior of the castle but you lunge forward to grab onto them. Your momentum drives you forward with more eagerness than you intended, your feet flying from the floor, tipping out into the evening dusk with the ghost of a scream on your lips.

Something pulls you back at the feet.

Your body remains suspended, hands clutching onto the panels white-knuckled. You quickly toss a glance behind you, fully expecting to see your bodyguard standing there with his stupid beskar staring disappointedly at you.

By the sheer grace of the Maker, there’s no one behind you at all.

The only thing that saved you from plummeting to your death was your pesky iron dresser, the one that had those decorative swirls that you often knocked your ankle against.

On it, the hem of your surprisingly sturdy trousers, which were beginning to rip at the seams the longer you stood there hanging like an idiot.

Quickly, you toss yourself back to safety, freeing your hem and sheathing your small dagger you kept under your pillow. When suddenly you hear a shuffle against the door and you freeze.

Your eyes are trained on the shadow under the crack of your door. It’s the Mandalorian, thankfully just readjusting his stance.

Deciding there’s no more time to lose, you drag a hidden rope you had tied to one of the posts under your bed from your younger adventures, and carefully climb out of your window. All the while hoping the Mandalorian wouldn’t decide to check in on you at that exact moment.

As soon as your feet touch the floor, you’re off, leaving the rope and your quarters in the dust.

An elated laugh escapes you. It feels like you’re floating over the stone pavement, more free than you’ve been since before you were orphaned.

It gives you a head rush, this thrill, knowing you’re breaking every rule in the book — for the Royal Princess of Eiria was not to wander the streets unattended, much less when the sun was falling below the horizon. Senator Dameron would probably burst a blood vessel if he saw you now.

After a few minutes of aimless sprinting, you begin to see the outline of the city, lit by its posts and the torches held by the knights on guard. You eye them, trying to figure out how to get past undetected.

Suddenly, you hear the sound of hoofs against the damp grass and the panic sends you flying into a nearby bush.

Your hair gets caught, a few thorns digging into your skin, one catching onto the skin of your cheek.

“Ugh,” you complain quietly.

Between the foliage, you begin to make out the figure upon the approaching horse.

“Gwaine!”

You smile in relief, your pounding heart beginning to settle back into your heaving chest. Gwaine is one of the few people you trust within the city walls, having known him since he was a boy. He is the blacksmith’s son, currently serving as his apprentice.

You spring out of the bush, startling Gwaine’s horse but he quickly reigned her back in.

“My lady,” he nods with an amused look.

You stand awkwardly for a moment, knowing you probably looked like a disaster.

Gwaine motions towards his own hair, near his ear. “You’ve got…”

“Oh!” You quickly snatch a leaf out of your locks. “Thanks.”

He eyes you, scanning your disheveled appearance from head to toe, before looking over at the patrolling guards and then back at you.

“Do you require some sort of… uh- assistance, my lady?” He asks as if he doesn’t want to know what you’re up to this time.

Poor Gwaine. One way or another you’d always managed to drag him into your various schemes over the years. But you’d never let him take the fall for any of your antics. Never.

Doesn’t stop him from fearing the day he’d once again see you with that same mischievous, faux innocence on your face. Which was more often than you cared to admit.

He knew your look of trouble like the back of his hand.

You jolt in realization and look past him, searching for any sign of the Mandalorian.

“You know,” you sigh a little dramatically once you realize the coast is pretty much clear. “I really shouldn’t drag you into affairs of the royal family. I’ll just leave you be—”

“What is it?” He cuts through the bullshit.

“Well, if you must know, I’ve taken the liberty of paroozing the sights of the city tonight, Gwaine.”

“We both know full well you have no liberty of ‘paroozing the city’ at this hour, your Highness.”

You try to hide your flinch.

“What’s with the formalities, Gwaine?” you divert. “Would it kill you to say my name for once?”

“Eh— might.”

You follow his line of sight to the guards that were stationed across the town square.

“You’re my friend. You can address me by my name, Gwaine.”

“You sure say my name a lot,” he says cheekily. Letting up his usual formalities. You feel relieved, giving him an easy smile. It was always like this with him— he’d address you by title, do everything by the book, and you’d have to slowly break him down until he accepts that you’re his friend. Not just the Princess. Years of conditioning made him that way you guess.

“It’s a mighty fine name,” you grin.

“Why thanks.”

His horse neighs suddenly. You both snap into reality.

“Seriously, Squeak. What’re you doing outside the castle? Aren’t you under strict vigilance right now?”

Squeak. It’s his nickname he’d given you ever since you had convinced him to help you climb to the roof of the stables when you were both small children. You were convinced you could fly (‘just like a bird!’ is what you’d told him) and jumped off to prove it. Needless to say, you were very thankful there had been a comfortable amount of hay on the ground below. Since that day, Gwaine began to call you ‘Squeak’ because you had screeched just like a bird when you landed face first in the hay.

“You heard?”

“The whole kingdom heard. A Mandalorian around these parts is rare. You mustn’t be alone when the Senator has gone to such extreme lengths to have you protected.”

Protected, your ass. Where was the Mandalorian now?

“I’m not alone,” you reply. “I’m with you.”

Gwaine purses his lips and gives you a half-hearted glare. Knowing in his heart, he couldn’t leave you alone now even if he wanted to. You’d just ensnared him in a royal duty whether you meant to or not.

“Nyla, settle down,” he murmured softly to his horse, as she began to get antsy from meandering around for too long. He looked back at you. “Well, are we going to stand here and wait to be caught?”

You give him a quizzical look.

“Well, you must’ve snuck out, haven’t you? I don’t see the Mandalorian around.”

But he’d surely be around if you kept standing here all evening.

You hustle over to Nyla, taking Gwaine’s outstretched hand and hauling yourself up behind him. Securing your arms around his middle, you smile softly at the familiarity.

“Where to, Princess?” He murmurs.

“Beyond the city walls, the abandoned watch tower.”

chapter 2 >>

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[gffa]

Hi! While you'll get some conflicting stuff in Legends (I think I remember a brief mention of it in The Approaching Storm which made me roll my eyes because it was Luminara thinking it and Luminara was wearing her own outfit with her own accessories already, in contrast you also have things like Obi-Wan’s river rock from Jedi Apprentice, which is a possession, so it was entirely dependent on which author you were reading) so it’s not totally coming out of nowhere, but it’s one of those things where it’s a random author from deep supplementary material because they just assume the Jedi can’t have possessions, but higher canon contradicts it. We see a handful of rooms in the Jedi Temple and they do tend to skew towards simple in decor (but you also have to consider that animation is HELLA expensive for something that’s only going to be used once, that’s why characters stay in the same clothes in animation so much of the time, because it costs a lot of money to design an outfit that can move around the way they need) but we can see Jedi possessions are not forbidden: - Anakin’s room is chock full of stuff:

Barriss has her prayer statue that’s unique to her:

Depa went all out in her room:

Yoda has candles in his room as well:

There’s a few quotes from Disney canon that says even Initiates have possessions:      “But this morning, [Qui-Gon had] had to pack his few possessions in a small bundle and leave the crèche where he’d lived as long as he could remember.“ [Master and Apprentice]     “So instead Obi-Wan trudged to his room. It was small and austere, but a shelf above his bed held a few treasures he had gathered. A rock from Ilum. A flower Siri had once tucked behind his ear as a joke. A shell Prie had given him that was probably from an unspeakably terrifying creature she adored. The spoon from their initiate days that Bolla had for some reason decided was his favorite, so they all made a game of stealing it. Obi-Wan had won, he supposed, since they were no longer younglings.”  [Padawan]     “Qui-Gon sat on the simple gray cushion he kept in place of more elaborate seating. He had never added furniture for hosting guests. Obi-Wan always felt like he was somehow intruding, like there really was no place for him in Qui-Gon’s life. He knew Siri’s master had a table for two in her living quarters where they took most meals together, and Prie’s had insisted on a Padawan room right next to his own so they could have easier access to each other when studying together.” [Padawan] (I don’t have the direct quote on hand, but in The Clone Wars: Stories of Light and Dark, Katooni also has a poster of Ahsoka on her wall that she hung up.) Overall, I look at it this way, there are three things that are going into what we see with the Jedi: - Every single frame of animation costs money to make and TCW was not rich at the time it was made, so rooms are designed simply because it was cheaper - The Jedi have a touch of ascetism going on because they’re not super big into worldly possessions and they’re Buddhist monks - I think it works really well as a theme--most Jedi just don’t need stuff, they’re content as they are.  If they want some stuff, they’re perfectly fine to have it, not once does anyone give Anakin a bad time about all the stuff in his room, he openly displays it, it’s fine.  But as a theme, Anakin’s a character who clings onto things, who has trouble letting go, who wants to be surrounded by tangible things, rather than living in harmony with the transient nature of life. Jedi seem to naturally lean towards not having a lot of possessions, they just don’t seem to need them, but they are emphatically NOT forbidden from having them!  There’s nothing in canon that I’ve ever come across that says they’re frowned upon, either. It goes hand in hand with how Jedi are often seen wearing outfits from their birth cultures, like Shaak and Ahsoka with their headddresses, Luminara and Barriss with their head coverings and tattooss, things that are just theirs. So, you’ll see it come up in fic a lot and it’s not like it came out of nowhere, but primary canon does say, yeah, Jedi can have possessions, but they don’t really seem to want or need to have very many of them.

#jedi order #jedi temple #meta

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Teaser!

There was a story…if told could be thought of as myth or fantasy, adventures of far-off galaxies, a vast variety of creatures of different races and spoke many languages, good versus evil. Old warriors lost their planet but reclaimed their home reuniting their people a saying passed through every one of them. A creed to honor those that fought before them, beside them, and will fight for them in the coming of time.

“This is the Way.”

With armor that could handle the strongest of weapons and spirit that could never be weakened by their enemies. Formidable on the battlefield with one able to take down 20 men on their own. From foundling to apprentice to warrior trained and prepared to fight alongside their brothers and sisters in battle. To fight for their clan, their homeworld, their creed…

For Mandalore.

It’s said that the first Mand’alor harnessed a power that no other Mandalorian had, the essence of life that was in every living and non-living thing. The energy that binds and holds the universe and life itself together. The light with dark…the good with evil. Balance. It goes by many names of what this gift is but to many, it is known as the Force. While it resides in everyone some contain a significant amount that they could tap into.

Those who could wield it were known as Jedi, protectors of the peace and guardians of justice. But with good comes evil. Light and Dark. Jedi and Sith.

But the Jedi are gone, massacre many years ago the shift of Light and Dark to great for the few who survived to try to stop it. So those that did live stayed hidden, in desolate planets, or populated areas, and restrained their abilities, hiding the true nature of their being.

But with a rise in the Dark comes strength in Light, a savior, the chosen one…a hero.

Some may say they’ve witnessed this hero, standing tall while the others cowered a weapon of great power in them but also one they wield. Of hot plasma that could cut through any object, and deflect any bolt of blaster, the weapon of both the Jedi and the Sith.

In the past, they remember them, the brilliant blues, verdant greens, and royal purples, of their heroes.

When their heroes had fallen it was a farm boy from a desert planet wielding a blue saber brighter than the sky above and a green saber as rich as the grass on the most lush planets.

But that hero’s journey was over his duty complete, and soon a new hero would step up to take his place and start their journey.

Some say she was a farm girl as well…on the same desert planet as the past hero. A very strange almost enchanting girl with the courage of such a young child. With the blood of warriors and protectors in her. She had the same weapon but not a familiar hue. It shined like the dual suns that set on her home planet. A radiant orange that color rivals the richest of dyed skills and wools, and its hilt holds the powerful blade was the strongest of metals. The same metal that was from the warriors. It was said she traveled far with a warrior in silver armor that gleamed in the light and also a protector, though many assumed the small babe could be no threat its physical appearance deceiving to the years of training and power within its small body.

They say they wandered very far…over land and sea. Planets and its people remembered them how could they not. The three were noticeable and wherever they went trouble or danger followed. And those that got too close were involved and many didn’t survive this hero’s journey. A little shy and sad of eye…but very wise was she.

And then one day…it was a magic day she passed my way and while we spoke of many things. Of fools and kings. Fools that wished to learn more of this ever-growing galaxy naive to its dangers and kings that believed wealth and power let them truly be safe and content.

With weariness in her bones, a face haunted by grief and sorrow, and her companions were now gone. The man who trained her cared for her, protected her and the child that comforted her, and brought light and peace to the darkest of times. This is what she said to me,

“The greatest thing you'll ever learn…is just to love and be loved in return.”

But it was just a tale…a story to tell your children as they drifted to sleep, of warriors in shining armor and heroes with magic powers and laser swords.

To them, it was a tale. To that hero it was truth.

The story of a girl now a woman with no home..no love…no family...no clan of three.

There was no one else.

OBVIOUSLY, OUR STORY WITH THE CLAN OF THREE IS FAR FROM OVER!

Struggling with the trauma of their hardened youth and the threat of a new evil in the galaxy. A woman with powerful abilities and a unique bloodline joins in the fight once again.

IN THE WORKS: NO ONE ELSE SERIES

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #clan of three series #din djarin #din djarin x jedi!reader #din djarin x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron x jedi!reader #poe dameron x reader #the force awakens #the last jedi #resistance reborn #rise of skywalker

[scribble-dribble-writes]

I stayed for you

---

Pairing: Obi wan x reader

Contents: Sleepy obi wan yearns for physical touch 💖

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1000

---

The day had been long. Arduously filled with it’s set of duties and all the energy you were left with was only enough for you to crawl to your bed. You had anticipated for the meeting to drag on into the night but to your surprise it had come to an early end.

You had no mood to say goodbyes, your eyelids were beginning to feel heavy. This was going to be another night of eating some leftover cause you did not have the patience to stand near the stove and prepare something. It will all have to wait for tomorrow.

The keys rustled in your fingers as you try to slot the right one into door knob. The room was dark and quiet, kicking off your shoes and placing your coat on a coat hangar, your feet dragged you towards the kitchen. Only as you got closer did you realise a white plate covered with another plate on top of it, sat in the middle of a clean benchtop. A little note laying next to it.

Missed you at dinner.

You open the top plate to reveal a well cooked meal, making your stomach rumble at the sight of it. Grabbing a fork, you take a mouthful of it. The flavour so rich and delicate, you sunk into the seat. The feeling of comfort began to wash over you. This was better than anything you could have tried to make. You take a couple more spoonful of food in such a hurry, as though you had been starving. You were, this war gave no time to anyone to relish a meal.

The plate sat empty before you but your body felt content. Your moods feeling a little lighter and sleep began to persuade you. But in that elated state, you could only imagine him as though he were in front of you, standing by the stove and making this meal for you. That he had come here on his own volition only cause he wanted to see you. This space was once only yours but now it marked his presence too. He would offer forget his robe and leave it on your sofa. His set of indoor plants that seemed to be growing much better under his care that yours. His little stringed instrument set for display in the corner of your hall. Or like now, his little notes would be everywhere as you were both busy. He would leave you notes when the milk was about to run out or when he thought of you during the day. You loved reading them, in that sweet gesture you knew you were on his mind constantly and he was on yours.

Putting away the plates in the sink, you think back on his latest note, the one that still sat on the counter. He had missed you today. He normally will not tell you when he yearned for your company or your touch for he understood the weight of duty the Jedi carry. But you could always see it in his eyes as he tried to hide away his wants. Today must have been the same, only that you weren’t around to see him hide it. He would have gone back to his suite. You knew you will have to do something in return for his kindness.

The bedroom was dark except for streaks of light from Coruscant’s nightlife illuminating parts of the room. Your nightgown was laid out on your side of the bed. He must have placed it out for you. He knew your space much better than you ever did. He fit in as though he was made to be a part of it. As you peel away your robes you take notice of a form on the other side of the bed. He had not gone back to his suite, he was here.

The covers rose and fell in rhythm to his soft breaths, he must have missed you dearly if he chose to stay. It had been a few days since you had spent time with him last. Slipping on the night dress, you slide under the covers and as though his mind was attuned to sensing you, he stirred gently. “You’re back.”, he murmured and you hum, getting closer to him. “I hope everything went well.”, he said. Ever so noble, always thinking of you.

The closer you got, his hand reached for your waist, as though he were waiting for you, just so he could hold you. “Was dinner alright? Did it get cold?”, he asked. “Shhhh.”, you silenced him, he was asking these questions to distract you from the comfort he was yearning for. You throw your leg over his waist and he pulls you closer. Nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “Stars, I’ve missed you.”, he whispered. You run your fingers through his hair and he sighs. Tracing the length of his neck your hand slides over the expanse of his bare back and your feel as he relaxed the muscles that were held together tightly. He was melting into your touch, his breath soft and hot over your collar bone.

“I stayed for you.”, he confessed. “I know.”, you tell him placing your lips on his forehead and you hear a delighted hum from him. “I don’t want to burden you with my petty needs.”, he tells you. Your fingers trace over his ribs and his sturdy waist. “They’re not petty, Obi wan.”, you respond. “They aren’t that important and – you cut him off by placing your lips over his and he responds by kissing you like he needed to breathe. “You are important to me.”, you say in between his kisses and his hands find their way to you neck, getting lost in your hair. He breaks away, placing a final kiss on you chin. He doesn’t say anything else and neither do you but you feel his relaxed breath, drawing in the air much more slowly than before. His fingers mindlessly tracing circles on your back while you fiddled with ends of his hair over his ear.

Nothing had to be said when being next to each other was all the comfort you needed.

#obi wan kenobi #ewan mcgregor #obi wan my beloved #general kenobi #master kenobi #kenobi series #kenobi tv #obi wan imagine #obi wan x reader #obiwan x fluff #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x you

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin Gets Pregnant and Causes a Scandal in Defense of the Jedi

Hey do you want a fic where Anakin's solution to a major political problem is something that many people would consider insane and irrational, and using the propaganda machine to grab galactic attention?

Because I wrote a fic where he does that, and everyone is very done with him.

Read here

Summary:

In which the Senate is trying to force the Jedi to up their numbers via a staggering violation of reproductive rights, Barriss is grumbling her way back to the Light, and Anakin's decided the solution to the Jedi's problems is to get pregnant himself. Problem: He doesn't have a womb. Solution: Bother Barriss, resident healer on parole, into helping him get one.

Gonna be honest, the only reason this is omegaverse is for the suspension of disbelief regarding the violation of reproductive rights. I tried it both ways, and the without-omegaverse version just left a bad taste in my mouth about Many, Many Countries trying to control access to things like abortion and birth control, so omegaverse it is!

-----------------------------------

The end of the war, the freedom of the clones, the return of Ahsoka—all of this should mean that Anakin is happy, and content, and watching the galaxy pull itself back together after all of Palpatine’s machinations were revealed.

(And going to his Council-mandated therapy after his near-Fall and the reveal of his little incident on Tatooine, but that’s a different matter.)

All should be well.

It is not.

“They can’t do that,” Anakin says, utterly blank. “That’s not—can they?”

“Not technically,” Obi-Wan says. He’s looking—exhausted. More exhausted than he has since the war had wound down. “But they can demand a certain number of missions fulfilled, and our numbers are currently too low to do so.”

“Because Palpatine sent us into a war that wiped out a third of our population, which is over half the adults, with the Senate’s support.”

Obi-Wan ignores him. “And nobody will give us their Force-Sensitive younglings.”

“Because Palpatine organized a propaganda campaign that made everyone hate and distrust us, with the Senate’s support.”

Obi-Wan continues. “And they can, of course, offer to make childbearing a mission to offset the mission minimum quota.”

“That’s insane.”

His Master gestures at nothing. “We’re working on it. They can withdraw funding—which we can’t afford right now, not with how skewed our age demographics are right now, and the lack of public donations—or filibuster on the clone rights.”

“So instead we let them walk on reproductive rights?” Anakin asks. “Omega rights? You—Obi-Wan, can you even handle a pregnancy right now? After everything in the war…”

His Master shrugs. He is so exhausted. “Like I said, Anakin: we’re working on it.”

--

“I’ve got a lot of people working on it,” Padmé says, and Anakin just bounces Leia in his arms for want of a better way to help. Padmé looks almost as frazzled as Obi-Wan had. “But the Senate views the Jedi as indispensable, and those who are on the fence about this ‘compromise’ are being pushed by long-term concerns regarding the piracy along the hyperla—Luke, no, honey, don’t put that in your mouth.”

That is in fact an entire braid that Luke is trying to stuff into his piehole.

“Let me take him,” Anakin says, and manages to take Luke in his other arm. Padmé gives him a grateful peck on the cheek, and then turns back to her desk. Moteé offers him a sympathetic grin from the corner.

“Obi-Wan won’t… he’s not…” Anakin trails off, because it’s not like it’s a secret that Obi-Wan is Stewjoni, or that he’s an omega. It’s not like Padmé, or even Moteé, are unaware of just how often Obi-Wan was tortured during the war.

He is the kind of carrier, in demographic, that the rich and powerful of less-egalitarian planets would salivate over. He is certainly already being talked about.

Obi-Wan has suffered so, so, so much damage. It could kill him. Regardless of gender equality and secondary dynamics and reproductive autonomy and species rights, a pregnancy could kill him.

“I know, Ani,” Padmé says. She scrubs at her eyes. “I’m a woman, even if I’m a beta, but I’m one that is in possession of a functioning uterus. Fully human and wealthy and well respected, but… already a mother, proven to be willing to have children, even suspiciously unmarried to the public eye, a… I’m too close to the problem for my opinion to be objective, according that testosterone-ridden hive of bullshit.”

Anakin grimaces. It’s always a slap in the face when Padmé curses.

“Mon Mothma?” he tries.

“Hardly better; she may not have carried any children, but still is theoretically capable of doing so,” Padmé says. She sits in the chair behind the desk and drops her head into her hands. “It’s all riding on alphas and men like Bail, despite the fact that he’s part of the demographic that has the least to do with this.”

“That’s insane,” Anakin says, not for the first time.

“It is what it is,” Padmé says, sounding distracted. She starts parsing through the datapads on her desk. “Right now, the problem has little enough media presence that we can’t rely on public pressure getting the Senate to cave, so… we’re looking into precedent, mostly. If the Senate pressures the childbearing members of the Jedi to procreate by way of coercion, or actual law, then it’s possible that more conservative elements of the Senate will look into attempting to reimplement such laws on their own planets with the Jedi situation as precedent.”

Anakin blinks at her.

“Okay,” he says. There’s nothing he can do to help with politics. “Do you… want me to take the kids for a few hours so you can focus on this unti—”

“Please.”

--

Anakin is halfway out of the building when a thought occurs to him. It’s not a very smart thought, by many measures. He decides to think on it.

(This is the start of many problems, for many people.)

--

“I bring children,” Anakin announces, shoving open Obi-Wan’s door with the Force since the hydraulics are glitching, and pushing the floating carriage with his twins in. “Okay, tinies, who wants to see Uncle Obi first?”

“Anakin, I’m—we have guests,” Obi-Wan protests from the armchair. “That’s not—oh, fine, yes, hello Leia.”

Anakin settles his baby girl into Obi-Wan’s arms, and turns to the guests on the couch as he picks up his son. “You’re not guests.”

“Rude,” Aayla says from the middle seat. She’s lounging back, and her fond amusement overpowers the annoyance and general malaise that’s suffusing the room.

“He’s a menace,” Anakin says, pointing at Quinlan, and then shifts the pointing finger to Aayla, “and you’re family, ergo, you don’t count as a guest.”

“I don’t count as family?” Quinlan demands. He looks like shit right now, honestly, when did he last sleep?

“Menace outranks family,” Anakin dismisses.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan sighs. “You’re a menace.”

“Yeah, but you got me young enough that it was cute at first,” Anakin rightly points out. He rocks his son a bit. “Anybody want to hold Luke? Warning, they are both still in the phase where everything goes into the mouth for investigation, so he will be grabbing for your hair or lekku.”

“You didn’t warn me of that,” Obi-Wan grouses.

“You already know Leia’s going to be yanking on your beard,” Anakin says.

“Give him here,” Aayla says, and true to form, Luke grabs for her lekku and attempts to stuff it in his mouth the second he’s settled. “Well, that’s clean enough.”

“Bet it feels weird,” Anakin says. He drops into the seat next to her and slings an arm around the back of the couch, using his other to brush over Luke’s scalp. “At least they’re not teething yet.”

“I expect you’d tell me if they were,” Aayla says. “Did the senator kick you out?”

“I kicked myself out,” Anakin protests, trying to keep his voice lofty and poised, if only because it makes Aayla laugh, and she looks like she needs that right now. “Or rather, took the kids for a few hours so she could concentrate.”

“On?” Quinlan prompts.

Anakin winces.

“Same as us, then,” Aayla mutters.

Anakin tilts his head. “Eh?”

Aayla gestures at Obi-Wan, and then at Quinlan. “Discussing the breeding law.”

“Eurgh,” Obi-Wan expresses, “don’t call it that.”

“That’s what it is,” Aayla mumbles. “Have a womb? Omega or beta? Put it to use or we’re cutting you off, medical exemptions be damned.”

“I thought it was coercion in replacement of missions,” Anakin says blankly. “You…”

“Officially? Yes. Unofficially…” Aayla gestures vaguely. “Council’s still fighting it, but they’ve sent out a memo through the medical offices to get a back-up plan for the other parent. There are rumors that some Senators are pushing for influence over who gets to play such a role; half are arguing for fellow Jedi, to increase the chances of the child being Force-sensitive, and half are arguing to be able to fuck us themselves.”

“Aayla!” Obi-Wan snaps, aghast.

“What? That is what is happening,” Aayla mutters. The only reason she isn’t crossing her arms in a huff, Anakin reckons, is that she’s holding Luke. “A single pregnancy is equivalent to three missions of the same length, with the current draft. They’re adding quotas. They are going through our medical records.”

“That’s…” Anakin trails off. Horrific.

“Pretty sure Vokara’s editing any records that aren’t public knowledge already,” Quinlan says. He’s got his head tipped back, staring at the ceiling. “But that’s not going to help everyone.”

Anakin tilts his own head back to look at Quinlan past Aayla, “so you’re here as moral support?”

Quinlan is, after all, not only male, but alpha. He’s not going to be directly affected, even if plenty of his friends are.

“I’m Obi’s backup,” Quinlan says, face turning just a bit to the side to meet Anakin’s gaze through half-closed eyes.

“Backup?” Anakin asks.

“As Aayla said,” Obi-Wan interrupts, “we’ve been told to have some idea of who the other parent should be, in case the motion goes through with the severity we expect. I’ve asked Quinlan to play such a role for me.”

That makes more than a dash of sense. Obi-Wan and Quinlan have been… not dating, but not not dating, since Anakin was a wide-eyed nine-year-old who was surprised to find that this random guy on his Master’s couch could understand all the Mos Espa swears Anakin was spouting after catching his hand in a drawer.

“You?” Anakin asks Aayla.

“Bly agreed,” she says, a slight blush on her cheeks. She looks at Luke, instead of Anakin. “If it weren’t for… I mean… if this weren’t being forced on us, and I wasn’t a Jedi, I’d actually consider it. Maybe. Some day.”

“With Bly,” Anakin prompts.

Aayla huffs a little breath. “If I ever decided to follow a more traditional family route, then yes. Probably with Bly. As it stands, I’m not inclined to do that, because I’m a Jedi, and also because I value my bodily autonomy.”

Anakin grimaces and also focuses on Luke again, mostly because he really doesn’t know how to respond to that.

The situation is worse than he thought.

“Can you keep an eye on the twins for a bit? I have to go ask someone a question.”

Obi-Wan makes a noise. “That can’t mean anything good.”

“Trust me?”

--

A.Sky: Sabé, need an opinion. Bad plan percolating. You available?

Tsabin: I’ll be free in a few. Send now.

A.Sky: Padmé says that there isn’t enough of a media presence for anyone to care about the Jedi reproduction thing right now. Would a high profile Jedi getting pregnant and using the ensuing media backlash to speak out about it mean people pay attention and get the Senate to You know Fuck off?

Tsabin: Whatever you’re planning, please tell me first.

A.Sky: But would it?

Tsabin: Technically, yes, but there are very few Jedi that are high-profile enough and capable of a pregnancy to my knowledge. Kenobi, but that’s a medical risk Secura, maybe Unduli or one of the council members Tano, but she’s too young

A.Sky: But someone really famous getting pregnant would work.

Tsabin: Ani. Please tell me what you’re planning

A.Sky: I need to check with someone about it first thanks for the help

Tsabin: Comm me before you do something stupid

A.Sky: I make no promises.

(Continue on AO3)

#star wars #the clone wars #rexanidala #anidala #rexwalker #anakin skywalker #obi wan kenobi #barriss offee #padme amidala #captain rex #bant eerin #dorme #sabe #skywalker twins #mild #quinobi #because if Obi-Wan is legally mandated to get pregnant then he's going to ask Quinlan to do it #they don't actually get Obi-Wan pregnant in this fic because the motion hasn't gone into effect yet but anyway

[spokewar]

A study in Obi-Wan's homeworld, Stewjon, Vol. ii:

vol. i: a brief overview of terrain, seasons, inhabitants, and culture

Stewjon is an ancient planet and much like Mand'alor, its inhabitants have seen many changes throughout the centuries.

Both Stewjon's original name and native sentient race have been lost to the annexes of time, but it is presumed the original people were amphibious cousins to the modern-day Kage people.

Stewjon wasn't always isolationist like it is today and it was once common for near-humans to come for the planet's rich soil and abundance of farm land. Though, despite the number of expats that would come, very few ever permanently settled due to the ways the planet's unusual climate forced them to live.

While the atmosphere is compatible with near-human life, the planet's surface can pose a hostile threat to those who don't know how to navigate it. At surface level, the air is dense with moisture and the ever-present fog covering the ground makes it extremely difficult for people without enhanced eyesight to see clearly. In addition, bodies of water are strewn about the surface and many are filled with deep cave networks that will pull people in if they are not careful.

The mixing of near-human and native sentients resulted in the modern day people of Stewjon, who share the distinct glowing properties and pointed ears of their predecessors, and the pigmentation of most human-like species. There is no up-to-date information on their biology nor culture, and the most recent data comes from the mid-point of the High Republic.

According to this data, Stewjoni people :

are capable of withstanding deep-water pressure and holding their breath for upwards of 30 minutes ;

have adapted to survive with little to no sunlight ;

have a similar ethereal vibe to that of their Kage cousins ;

are capable of seeing in complete darkness ;

if trained, are capable of hearing distinct noises from up to 800 meters away.

Stewjon became an extreme isolationist planet during the mid-point of the High Republic when its local government felt they were being treated unfairly. The planet's soil was being over-tilled and its freshwater supply was being contaminated due to the abundance of fertilizer required to yield enough crops for their clients. Stewjon had always been capable of taking care of itself, but it seemed trying to supply the rest of the galaxy was taking a toll on its people, land, and wildlife.

The planet's leaders also felt they were not receiving enough protection from the Republic as their agricultural communities and vast cave networks made Stewjon a prime target for pirates and fugitives running from the law. Fortunately, Stewjon was far from the Core Planets and the backlash the Republic would recieve from trying to force a peaceful community of farmers to adhere to their rules would not be worth the uproar it would cause. Especially with the Kage people, known for their elite warriors, taking Stewjon's side.

Stewjon has one heavily guarded space port where only neighboring planets are allowed to do trade. They do not import goods nor services, they only export crops and, on occasion, artisan items. They do not trade in furs or meats because they do not want the galaxy to know species they harbor on their planet.

Stewjon's internal politics have remained steady throughout the centuries. The government is made of several ruling families who know better than to overstep and the common people remain content so long as the borders are kept closed and they are given enough community resources to help care for the sick and less fortunate. The land has never been scarred by war or devastating man-made weapons. The hostile climate is hard enough to survive on its own and it's always been safer for any opposing parties to diplomatically work through their problems than try to wage battle.

And as far as external politics go, it is unknown where Stewjon stands. Although, they have surrendered two of their own to the Jedi Order, so it seems they are at least willing to cooperate with some of the Core World's practices.

On record, Master Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi and Master Jedi Fay are the only Stewjoni people to live within the Republic's borders. While it is legal for Stewjon's inhabitants to leave the planet, most choose not to because of presumptions about the rest of the universe. They think Stewjon is the epitome of safety and peace, and that the rest of the galaxy is all chaos and brimming with danger.

tldr; stewjon is mostly left alone because it's a pity planet with a big scary older brother

#stewjon lore tag #more hick planet content #no one asked for it #but i am serving it anyway

[mutant-bike-lover]

Hogan's Heroes, but make it Star Wars, AKA Hogan's Rebels

The series takes place in an Imperial prison camp around the same time as the beginning of Rebels.

Robert Rob Hogan is a Jedi Knight and Order 66 survivor. His birth name is Arkouda Mathan. (1) He's an expert pilot and particularly good at Jedi mind tricks. He has a blue lightsaber that he made after the Gathering and a white lightsaber that he took from an Inquistor. It used to be red.

Newkirk grew up in the underworld of Coruscant. As a result, he became an expert thief, codebreaker, and slicer.

LeBeau is a Twi'lek. He lived on Ryloth during the Separatist occupation.

Carter is from Tatooine. He is part Tusken. (2)

Kinch and Baker are both Onderonian. (3)

Klink is an Imperial officer. He previously fought for the Republic during the Clone Wars. He is possibly another Fulcrum agent.

Schultz also fought in the Clone Wars. He secretly hates the Empire and longs for the days of the Republic.

H3LG4 and H1LG4 are droids that were secretly reprogrammed for the Rebellion.

Langenscheidt is a storm trooper on mostly friendly terms with the rebels. He has past experience as a bounty hunter.

Burkhalter is a moff.

Hochstetter is an ISB agent determined to prove Hogan is a Jedi.

Crittendon is another Coruscanti, but he's from the upper levels where the other rich people live. A Jedi wannabe, his attempts at emulating them cause more problems than they solve, a fact that annoys Hogan to no end.

Marya is a Nightsister. Another Force-sensitive, she is willing to use the dark side.

Tiger is another Twi'lek. She is part of the Free Ryloth Movement.

(1) - Arkouda is Greek for bear. Mathan is Scottish Gaelic for bear. At least according to Google Translate.

(2) - This is analogous to Carter being a member of the Sioux in the show.

(3) - I was thinking about the Onderon civil war.

P.S. - Consider this an open invitation to make content for this AU.

#hogan's heroes #star wars

[heretolurkandnothingmore]

Fandom Incompetence

Ok, am I the only one who feels underqualified to create fan content? Where do people get so many details from? I mean, every time (the spirits possess me) I try to write that fanfic, there are So Many Questions and they are all so stupid that it's embarrassing to google them, you know what I mean? I don't want the digital overlords to know that I'm struggling with all these little practical facts that living among the stars entails. Are people with cybernetic prosthetic limbs able to take them off at will? If so, do they sleep with them on? I've heard many amputees IRL don't. ALSO. Grievous has a bunch of backup limbs. Do others or is he weird? (trick question, yes he is) What's with the shower thing? Is there water involved? WHAT DOES A COUCH IN STAR WARS LOOK LIKE? (and before you say "oh, Padme's got couches at her place", yeah, but she's rich. Hers are opulent. What do normal couches look like? There is only one picture of a couch on Woookiepedia and it's in the "Legends" section, and it is spoken about in past tense, AND IT IS A SCREENSHOT FROM A VERY OLD VIDEOGAME about the HIGH REPUBLIC TIMES. Don't tell me couches have not changed since then. More polygons had to have been added at least.) Suppose the Jedi Temple provides those cool robes to the members, but. Does that include other clothes?? Where do they buy those? What about informal stuff, like sleep shirts? (Why am I thinking about this at 3 AM?) It's probably in the novelizations. Serves me right for not having read them yet.

#hertie's text posts #fandom things #heple #i am very dumb and curious #hyperfixation blues #english is not my first language #can you tell? #star wars

[jetiisyandereclones]

Hi I absolutely love your content! But it does rise the question what if somehow one of the Jedi escape? Like completely off world or something? How would the clones react? As well as what would they do?

Hi! Thank you so much. And I really appreciate the ask, I get so excited to expand on my AU!

I actually had to think about this one for a bit.

So. When coming up with the Yandere clone family au, I was thinking, how are these clones gonna pay for all this? I decided that there was going to be an untapped natural reserve under the ocean that isn’t really valuable to any of the planets the kaminoans interacted with so they never thought to use it. But on one of their hunts for the Jedi the clones come across a planet where it’s nearly invaluable.

So they begin doing trade. This natural resource from Kamino, for manual labour, food, infrastructure, supplies and credits. It makes Kamino and the clones rich financially, and in resources, and due to the high value of their export, they don’t have to mine a lot of it at once, meaning they can sort of just scratch away at huge reserves, get what they need out of it and them some, have plenty for future generations and still have it keep its value. (Step 1 for any of my Yandere au’s, make them rich somehow). I like to think of this as the Wakanda/vibranium fix.

This is relevant because it means that there is at least one ship coming and going from the planet on a semi regular schedule.

This leaves the Jedi a few options.

Stow away on the clones ship

Try to steal a ship

Try to send for outside help

Stowing away on a labourer/merchants ship

Waiting to be trusted to find other Jedi and run when they leave the planet

Stowing away on a clones ship isn’t going to work.

The clones were prepared for this happening. Their Jedi are free spirits, and selfless ones at that. They were expecting them to try and get back to the cruel galaxy. If one did somehow manage to get past cameras, guards and a biometrically guarded hanger that can sense the dna of people who weren’t clones (the clones take samples of dna to store into their security system so the scanners can identify them as soon as they get into, or even near certain rooms), then they’d have to get past the scans the ship makes for life forms every hour. Any stowaways are immediately brought to the bridge, which has a holding cell (with something to sit and lie on) where the clones can keep them in eyesight, and a inhibiter cuff ion their wrist until, they get back to kamino.

Trying to steal a ship (at least alone) is just as hopeless. It’s not just the hangers that are biometrically guarded, but the ships also. Only clones can start them. So no clone, no ship. The only theoretical way to get around security measures and alarms is to force a clone to accompany you, either by physical means, or force suggestions. But you better get it right the first time. Mess it up and they’ll never trust you again. Love and adore you yes, but you’ll be kept on an extremely short leash for the rest of your life

A slightly more plausible way to get off Kamino is to send for outside help.

This would be a favourable solution for the more tech savvy amongst the families. Jedi and civilians who are familiar with communications systems may be able to figure out how to send a signal strong enough to reach another planet.

But that’s a gamble, the tech clones are always watching for unusual signals, and can intercept and spy on one easily, so you’d have to think of a way to encrypt it well enough to get past even techs scanners.

If you do manage to do it, there’s no telling who may receive that signal, or if they’ll even come. What’s worse if a Jedi does come to their side, they’ll either get shot down or captured. If they are captured the ones who sent the signal will be punished, but not too severely as it brought another family member home. If the Jedi is shot down and killed, then the one who sent the signal I’d executed. It’s absolutely the last thing the clones want to do, but they are prepared to defend their family. The one who sent the signal got another Jedi killed, therefor are a danger to the rest of them. This isn’t acceptable, and, no matter how much the clones love them, and how much pain it will cause them, the clones will put down the sender. When this happens, the senders assigned clone will often die soon after themselves, consumed by guilt and unable to live without their lover/ad’ika.

Stowing away on a trade ship could work. They aren’t biometrically guarded and the Jedi and civilians often help to load/unload the ships. If they do make in onboard, they’d better hide themselves well. The merchants are loyal to the clones, not willing to risk their trade relationship. If they find a stowaway from Kamino, it’s stun on sight and they are kept under until a clone can retrieve them. If they do make it to the merchants planet they’ll have to lie low for a while. Due to the remote nature of it, there isn’t much off world trade and most of it is done with the clones. A person could be waiting months for a ship to Coruscant, Naboo, alderaan, or corellia. By that time the clones will defiantly be hunting for you, and looking off planet.

The safest option for everyone is to play the long con. Gain the clones trust, be their good little lover/child and make a run for it when they let you go off planet. But this could take years. They have to try not to get attached to the clones themselves. They’ll love and love and love the Jedi, and the Jedi may start to break to their affections. If the Jedi does get away on a trip to retrieve a youngling, they’ll have to run far and fast, often times taking the youngling into hiding with them. If they are caught it’s game over. They’ll never leave Kamino again, never be fully trusted again.

In terms of punishment, I want to make it clear that the clones will never maliciously (in their minds) harm their family (I personally won’t write that) they don’t want to torture their family, they want to love them. Keep them sweet and warm and soft. The clones and their family have seen and experienced enough cruelty during the war, they won’t allow it to be brought to their doorstep now. Any clone found to be abusing their family is executed immediately.

The only time the clones will personally and intentionally harm a Jedi, is when they have to put one down for being a danger, and they do it quickly and painlessly. And as stated before, the assigned clone usually follows their family into the force soon after, not being able to bear being without them.

If the loved ones only make one attempt to escape, and they fail, they are taken back to the cells with an inhibitor cuff on that has a tracker. They then get a few weeks of rehabilitation and family bonding, cause if their precious family were trying to escape then they must’ve felt unloved and unwanted and that’s just not true. The clones treat this as a one time fit of desperation, a cry for help, and treat it as such, giving them undivided attention in their holding rooms, with the cuff on, of course, but it’s pretty much the same routine as when the Jedi are first brought in.

Repeat failed attempters are taken straight to an isolation cell. No company, no distractions. Just them and their cuffs turned up to an unbearable level. They are kept like this for as long as it takes for them to beg to be let out. Then the clones step in to comfort them, again becoming associated with care, love and relief. Often times when the wannabe escapee is first let out of isolation they are very weak, very emotional and vulnerable and absolutely cling to their clones. Shaking and crying while the clone holds them close, whispering and cooing reassurances as they bring them to a much nicer room to recover and spend time with their clones. They nap and watch holos and just relax and heal. The cuff however, will be replaced with a permanent fixture that will never allow the Jedi to use their full powers again, forcing them to become permanently weakened. If the Jedi is showing any signs of becoming accustomed to the lowered state of power, the cuff is turned up. These escapees are never really alone again. Escapees who aren’t jedi get the same treatment just no cuff. Because they don’t have any force sensitivity, they are more mentally vulnerable and often times don’t re attempt escape after their first trip to isolation.

Family members who make it off Kamino and are brought back get the same isolation treatment as repeat offenders. However when the cuff is replaced with a permanent fixture, one more thing is added. An internal tracker that feeds directly into their clones HUD 24/7. This tracker also includes a shock function. Should the wearer go outside the borders of Tipoca, the collar will shock them into unconsciousness, and send an alert to their clone, telling them exactly where they are.

The clones hate seeing their family in pain, but it’s the only way they can keep them safe. Their Jedi don’t understand that they don’t have to put their neck out for an ungrateful galaxy anymore, they keep trying to go back to the fighting. The clones won’t allow this to happen. Their family deserve to be happy and safe and the only place where that can happen is with them. If that means having to physically restrain them to keep them safe in Tipoca, then so be it. One day they’ll learn that they don’t have to leave their sanctuary.

Though it hasn’t happened very often, when Jedi or family members escape, certain clones are sent out to find them. If the Jedi or civilian wasn’t particularly skilled in stealth and surviving on their own, then their own clone will go after them to bring them back.

However if the Jedi or civilian has shown particular skill and talent for escape and evasion the clones will send out more specialised teams.

The squads you don’t want to have on your tail are the Wolfpack, the Bad Batch and the Alpha clones (alpha 17 and captain Fordo) They will hunt you down relentlessly to the end of the galaxy if they had to. They will not risk your safety out there on your own.

Once they find you, your immediately immobilised and tranquillised. By the time you wake up your in isolation with a cuff fitted.

@jazzthemusician

@icouldntfinditsoiwroteit

#Yandere clones #yandere bad batch #yandere clone family au #order66 never happened #Yandere Wolfpack #Yandere alpha clones #Yandere clones x reader

[intermundia]

You were saying on your Twitter how reading and analyzing star wars texts have changed you as a person. I forgot to say this until now but I really think star wars does have a weird tendency to bring out obsession/unhinged behavior in everyone LMAO. My own personal version of sw changing me as a person is that I'm a foreign language major and atm I'm endeavoring to learn Aurebesh so I can write notes in it 😭😭 my friends are like "please you've gone too far"

star wars is a really dangerous hyperfixation, because it genuinely is like stepping in a puddle and realizing it is as deep as the ocean. i had no idea the extent of the lore when i began, no idea of its richness and variety, the maddening web of content that it is. it makes people insane. basically it lured me in with revenge of the sith's classical allusions and now on i'm my knees digging through all the star wars boxes at my local comic book stores and bothering the guys in the front about the fact that they are missing issues 50-55 in the 2002 dark horse star wars republic run and personally offended by misrepresentations of the jedi philosophy in popular culture. my life has been irrevocably altered lol

#your version of the fall into darkness is understandable #i too have studied aurebesh #i'm not the same person i was before star wars lol #i'm worse #reading all 1200 pages of the sw archives books #does things to you #personal #lmao

[acourtofsnakes]

Barefoot On The Battlefield | Ad Astra - Prologue | Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader

Summary: No child should have their dreams ripped away. No child should see the things you had paid witness to. But you didn't have a choice. And this bloody path would lead you through more destruction, friendships your life would depend on; and him.

Warnings: Mention of blood, death, destruction, fighting, battles

A/N: Ahhh, the Dark Arc Ani series is finally here 😍Please be aware, this series is a dark ac series and will contain dark themes as the chapters go on. Each chapter will be marked with content warnings as usual, but please do not read at all if you're a minor.

Permanent Taglist: @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @mypedrom @undiscovered-misunderstood @kaylee-krystal @theshireisburning-so-mordoritis @queenofthefaceless @gallowsjoker @kirsteng42 @rosiefridayrogersunday @salome-c @amywritesthings @meganlpie @sgt-morgan @kodakoalabear

Series Masterlist | Playlist | Masterlist

Four years old, and the air smelt like strawberries and sunshine. The birds with the iridescent plumage circled above your head, singing to one another as you spun in circles beneath them, the grass soft beneath your little bare toes. 

The flowers your mother so lovingly grew were in full bloom, gifting their scent to the already sweet air. She always tucked one behind your ear, “A flower for my flower”, she always murmured. 

You were laughing, that carefree bell-chime of a child’s laughter because what you were seeing as you danced, what you were doing… it was magic, to your eyes. 

It was magic that made the soft pink blossoms part from their branches and cascade around you, follow your dance on a phantom wind that twirled around you. 

But it wasn’t really magic, of course. It was the Force, and your parents couldn’t have been prouder that their beloved daughter was Force Sensitive. 

So, you all said goodbye to your home, and you moved to the towering structures of Coruscant. 

It was hard at first. The air and sunlight were artificial, and there were no gardens or trees like there were back home. 

But it was okay, because you were enrolled into the Jedi Temple as a youngling, a stunning structure designed for contemplation and wonder. You got to learn how to become one with the Force, how to wield one of those powerful lightsabers and eventually, you’d become a Jedi Knight. 

You made new friends instantly, followed the Master’s guidance and awed at the older Padawans, like Anakin Skywalker.

Six years old, and all those dreams had turn to dust slipping through your fingers. 

No more Jedi Temple. 

No more friends or chasing droids through the hallways. 

No more hiding round corners to see the Jedi Knights, like Obi-Wan Kenobi and his Padawan, Anakin.

Days of contemplation and learning, of wonder and excitement were crushed beneath the black boot of the Separatists, your dreams ripped away and shoved into a box as black as their hearts. 

You didn’t even know why. 

You just knew that you were taken, and you could do nothing about it. 

The air was thick with the scent of blood, that cloying, iron-rich scent that would haunt you for years to come, mixed with the stench of burning flesh. 

Angry, vibrating hums tore through the air like a swarm of violent bees, the flashes and clash of colour reminiscent of an electrical storm. 

These weren’t the colours of childhood; they were the colours of nightmares. 

Everywhere you looked, there was death. Everywhere you looked, there was carnage. 

The once beautiful landscape was soaked with terror, smoke obscuring the sky but doing nothing to muffle the screams. 

Eight years old, and you were running barefoot on a battlefield, shoes discarded in your attempt to free the shackles holding you in place. 

But you weren’t an inhabitant of this planet, nor were you in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

You had come with the monsters decimating this peaceful land. You were close to them, closer than you wanted to be but with no way out of it. You might have escaped the physical bonds holding you, but you were tied much deeper than that.  

Through the fog and smoke, through the violence and senseless killing, you saw him. 

Rising above the fleeing villagers, towering above them in fact, with his long, buckled cloak sweeping around him like a living shadow. The helmet over his face and head was created to inspire fear. It was a monstrous thing, carved to look like a snarling demonic face, with 4 twisted horns set on either side, from temple to jaw. 

Everything about him oozed with a sick sense of wrongness, of darkness and of a violation of the very laws of nature, of the Force itself. 

He used to be a powerful Jedi Knight, admired and trusted the galaxy over, for no one knew what was growing inside him. What he had been carefully hiding beneath calming smiles and powerful allies. 

Years and years he had waited, for the perfect moment to shed the cloak of Light and embrace the Dark. 

This was a man who had torn worlds apart, who had torn people apart in his pursuit for power. He was a blood-soaked jewel in the Dark Side’s crown. 

He was a Sith Lord, and one of the worst to walk the galaxies. 

He was Lord Derriphan; devourer in the vile Sith language. 

And he was your father. 

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars au #hayden christensen #dark arc ani #ad astra #ad astra series

[fanfoolishness]

to dust (Jedi: Fallen Order)

Cal's lightsaber is destroyed on Dathomir, and everything feels lost. Angst, despair, 800 words of sadness.

---

The dust of Dathomir swirled around him, redolent with the detritus of bone and rot and filth.  The ghosts were heavy here in their hollowness.

Cal breathed in deeply, coughing.  The dust burned with every breath, the sensation forcing him back to himself whether he willed it or not.

His hand twitched at his side, reaching for the hilt of his lightsaber.  His fingers met crushed metal and bare wires, still hot to the touch.  Shards of kyber pricked at his fingertips, their song forever silenced.

He had failed.  He had been tested, and he had failed.

Master Tapal’s jeers rang in his head, his wise face cruel and cutting.  You are no Jedi.  Cal felt like he was going to be sick.  He tried to think of something, anything, else.  He couldn’t.  All he could do was stumble forward, one foot in front of the other.  

BD trilled, trying to reach him, to understand.  Cal didn’t know what to say.  BD-1 hadn’t been able to see what happened, what Cal saw, what he did.  BD didn’t know how Cal had failed in so many ways.  If it wasn’t for the ruined lightsaber, he could have kept pretending, and the little droid would never have had to know. 

Why did he have to be so curious?

Cal managed to speak, forcing the words out.  “The crystal shattered.  It’s broken.”

BD warbled mournfully, hunkering down on Cal’s back.  Cal’s shoulders slumped beneath the weight of the little droid.

“Useless,” Cal said bitterly.  He meant it about the lightsaber.  He meant it about himself.  

What else was there to say?

His feet scuffed in the dirt of the fallen Zeffo, the ground-down remnants of their grand temples, their hubris, their cruelty.  He nearly tripped on the cracked flagstones, jagged beneath his boots.  He moved forward because that was what he was supposed to do, but beyond that, there was nothing.  He was blank.  Empty.  Crushed.

He dragged himself back toward the narrow entrance, the cold and terrible doors of the tomb still locked and pitiless behind him.  He would return to the Mantis, he guessed.  He would break the news to Cere and Greez.  Somehow.  

If Cere had failed her Padawan, Cal had failed his Master.  What a pair they made.  His face twisted.  How rich of him to judge her for what had happened to Trilla.  He thought he’d had the high ground, that he could have held out if it had been him, that he would never let that happen to someone who was depending on him.  And he’d been carrying that judgment against Cere for weeks now.  

The sheer arrogance.

Cal scrubbed a hand against his face, blinking back the stinging in his eyes.  His heart hammered, a wild thing trapped against his ribs, filled with fear and shame and a weight that made it hard to breathe.  

Maybe they could all hide somewhere from the Empire.  Maybe he could help them find somebody better, someone who hadn’t failed, for their quest for the Holocron.  If he’d survived, somebody stronger must have, too.  His mind spun out stories of himself as a cautionary tale.  He could cut himself off from the Force like Cere, and try to help another way.  Maybe she’d understand.

He thought of the Bracca years of hiding, when he was so frightened to touch the Force, resisting its call  every day, every moment, because the alternative was even more painful.  He could go back, if he had to.  Back to hiding everything he’d ever hoped to be.

Despair clawed at him.  He swallowed a sob and pushed himself forward through the narrow tomb entrance, stopping only once he stood on a crumbling precipice under the red Dathomirian sun.  His eyes strayed to the vast fall below, its oblivion appealing for just a moment.   He stood there, unsteady, wavering.

BD tapped his shoulder, hard, and Cal shook his head.  “I’m okay, Beedee,” he mumbled.  He took a few steps back from the edge to reassure his droid, and BD burbled, the sound content but still concerned.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered.  He reached to his lightsaber again, his hand sparking unpleasantly when he touched it.  He shuddered at the feeling, like touching a broken bone, a flayed nerve.

He set his sights toward the Mantis, wondering if the wanderer or the Nightsister would show themselves again to stop him.  He didn’t particularly fear them; they were only obstacles to getting off of this dark planet.  What could they do to him that would be worse than what had already happened?  He took a step, then another, and another.

The dust of Dathomir caked his boots, and his mangled lightsaber swung heavy at his side, just another empty ghost.

#cal kestis #jedi: fallen order #jedi fallen order #jedi: fallen order spoilers #jedi fallen order fanfiction #dathomir #my jedi fic

[samspenandsword]

The Three Times You Meet Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the Last: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader (GN)

Summary: You are the personal aide to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, training to one day perhaps take his place. These are the three times you meet the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the last. Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reader; gender-neutral reader with no mentions of their appearance.  Rating: MA, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets, BEGONE!) Warnings: Mature content (no smut) — Angst, Clone Wars and Imperial era galaxy, events and aftermath of Order 66, war violence and descriptions of battle, mentions of PTSD and disassociation, death, pining, grief and hurt, language, SPOILERS FOR OBI-WAN KENOBI (SERIES), tagged accordingly Word Count: 5.5k

The First Time

The onset of the Clone Wars brought change to your life, but you could not say that the life of a senator’s aide had been calm or peaceful even before the war. Your every day had been filled with annoying red tape and patience-trying bureaucracy and general political bullshit. And that was all before you got to your real job, which was to handle any and all administrative needs for Senator Organa, as well as any research that needed doing for whatever reason or another, most often into mundane, long-forgotten Republic laws and policies. You even functioned as his representative if needed.

And this time, it had been needed. 

Today found you aboard a Venator-class Star Destroyer, the Negotiator, en route to Scarif, a small world on the Outer Rim. Scarif was a tropical world, but it was rich with dense metals that would be invaluable to ship construction for the war effort. Many in the Republic Senate considered it too expensive to invest in Scarif, seeing how far it was from the Core Worlds, but your senator and some others disagreed. 

Not because it wasn’t expensive. It was. But because it would benefit the Republic in the long-run. 

This war had raged for less than a year now and the Republic had already spent billions on ship construction alone. And while you couldn’t deny that the destroyer you stood on was armed to the teeth and prepared for battle, Republic ships, quite frankly, could barely withstand battle. Nearly every week saw construction on a new fleet of ships for whatever legion or battalion or corps needed it. If the Republic was willing to invest so much in their clone army (an entirely different matter of its own), why were they not willing to invest in proper, safe, battle-enduring transport for that army? And with how often medical frigates, shipments, and stations were targeted, the Republic needed better ships to withstand the ever-advancing droids and weapons of the Separatists. 

You personally believed that investing in the metals Scarif offered would save the Republic money in the end, but more importantly, would save lives.

And all lives were worth protecting and saving.

“Everything all right, sir?”

You glanced over your shoulder, lips curling into a small smile. “Yes, Lieutenant, thank you. Is there an estimated time of arrival?”

“Yes, sir. Within the hour.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.” 

“You seem pensive.”

A new voice cut in. Looking over your shoulder, your eyes fell on the owner of the new voice. 

With a poised stride, lilting accent, and dashing smile, Jedi Master Kenobi was too charming for his own good. And despite your better judgment, you felt your heart skip as he approached.

“I apologize, Master Kenobi. Were my thoughts too loud?”

After years spent on Coruscant, and many dealings with different Jedi, you were relatively familiar with some of their abilities, including how they could often sense the thoughts and feelings of others without meaning to. You were loath to think your thoughts were so loud they distracted him from his, likely, more important duties. 

“It wasn’t your thoughts. Rather your expression.” He still smiled at you, polite and friendly. With a nod, he dismissed the clone lieutenant assigned to assist you while on board.

“I will take that as advice to never play sabacc.”

Master Kenobi let out a surprised, bright laugh. You felt your own smile widen at the sound, which you admitted, somewhere in the back of your mind, was annoyingly beautiful. Though as soon as it quieted, you felt compelled to say something. 

“I must thank you, Master Kenobi, for transporting me to Scarif. I know you are not often away from the front lines.”

“And that is why this mission is such a relief for me and my men,” Master Kenobi instantly replied. “It’s not often we get assigned to peaceful negotiations.”

You couldn’t withhold a snort. Neither the word “peaceful” nor “negotiations” truly applied to your mission. It was plain old research, which you normally liked.

But you feared your Republic did not know the meaning of those words anymore. Peaceful. Negotiations. Neither did the Separatists. But the longer the war stretched, the more you began to wonder who this Republic was actually fighting this war for: its people, or its pride. 

“May I ask you something?”

“Of course, Master Kenobi.”

“Why become a senator’s aide?”

You looked over at the Jedi, meeting his blue eyes. “I believed in democracy. I believed in the Republic. And I wanted to serve it in whatever way I was able.”

And most of the time, you still felt that way. 

If Master Kenobi noticed the afterthought, he gracefully decided not to mention it. He instead said, “The Senate could use more people like you.”

It was his turn to startle a laugh from you, evidently. And his amiable smile became more of an amused smirk.

“Hardly,” you said. “I have no patience for days-long sessions and fake smiles and debating for debates’ sake. Senator Organa is a saint for putting up with it all.”

Master Kenobi chuckled. “A harmless little debate never hurt anyone.”

“Hmph, I’m not surprised to hear you say that,” you said. You smothered a smirk. “Your own negotiation exploits are quite... infamous.”

“Why must you call them exploits?” He sounded both amused and affronted. 

Your shoulders shook with laughter that bordered along giggle territory. 

“Master Kenobi, they can hardly be called ‘tactics’ when they end with General Grievous’ four lightsabers in your face.”

A snort sounded behind you. You turned in time to see General Kenobi’s marshal commander straightening. Master Kenobi tried to feign offense, but you saw his lip twitch. 

It spurned a rather smug grin from you. One that soon softened. 

“Well, whether this mission is a nice reprieve for you and your men or not, I am still grateful. So thank you, Master Kenobi.”

He smiled back, and it looked far more real and genuine than his practiced, polite smile. “You’re welcome.”

You both turned, knowing that it was time for you to get to the hangar where a smaller shuttle would take you to the surface. You had nearly arrived. 

“Would you perhaps mind some company on the surface?”

You were surprised by the offer, yet delighted. Not only would it be extremely beneficial to have a Jedi help you research the metals and assess the potential Republic partnership, but you also felt happy at the prospect of spending more time with this particular Jedi. 

You still had to tease him though.

“As long as you’re not planning on getting up to your exploits —”

“No promises.”

You smirked. “Then I would be delighted for your company, Master Kenobi.”

“The honor is mine, representative. And please, just Obi-Wan.”

You smiled, only your years of politics giving you the ability to temper the full-blown giddy grin it wanted to become. 

Yes, Obi-Wan was entirely too charming for his own good. 

The Second Time

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, I am so mad at you.”

A cocky grin was thrown your way. “Whatever for?”

Bastard. Stupid, charming, disgustingly attractive bastard.

Battle raged around you. Your ears rang with the constant whistling of blaster fire, and you could feel explosion shockwaves deep in your chest. Your face was streaked with ash, and your formal Alderaanian robes were torn and more than a little dirty.

The battle hadn’t been anticipated. And there had been no indication that the Separatists had any interest in D’Qar. It was in Republic territory, and there was no civilization to speak of. D’Qar had once been home to a great civilization, but all that was left of it was ruins. So you had gone there to do some research into maybe establishing a secret Republic base somewhere within the planet’s expansive forests. 

The first hour had gone well, and every hour after it had gone to utter shit. 

A blaster was held in your hand, and you were decidedly not afraid of using it. Obi-Wan had spotted the Separatist squad first, snagging his arm around your waist and yanking you to him just in time for a blaster bolt to appear where your head had just been. 

Three days later, the battle was still raging and communications off-planet were being jammed. No backup was coming, so you and the 212th were on your own. You had had the opportunity to negotiate a stalemate with the Separatist commander a day ago, but Obi-Wan had thoroughly karked that.

Not that it was going to succeed in the first place, but you still felt like giving Obi-Wan shit. His negotiation tactics truly were “exploits.”

“Cody!” Obi-Wan called. The hum of his lightsaber had become a strange comfort to you as the battle raged. When you heard the hum, you knew Obi-Wan was near. “Status report!”

“Waxer and Boil took a squad northwest, and scanners picked up even more clankers to the northeast. They just keep coming!”

“Are they trying to push us back or funnel us north?” you huffed aloud. Seemed like a weird tactic for them to only come in wide. It also didn’t seem like an effective ambush strategy. 

You truly hadn’t expected any response or reaction to your semi-rhetorical quip, but Obi-Wan looked at you like you’d personally won the battle for them. Despite the fact that it was very much still happening. 

“Cody, run a scan directly to the north, make sure they’re not pushing us into a trap!”

“Yes, sir!”

“We might make it out of this yet.”

Just as the words left Obi-Wan’s mouth, a rocket landed less than ten feet from you. Obi-Wan and you both reacted by throwing yourselves toward the other, and you collapsed against the forest floor in a tangled, limb-entwined heap.

“Had to say something, didn’t you?” you grouched.

Whatever Obi-Wan’s surely sassy retort was got swallowed by a second explosion, and his weight pressed down on top of you as the ground shook beneath you and trees splintered into wooden rain. You thanked the Maker that Obi-Wan probably attributed the frantic beating of your heart and flush of your cheeks to the heat of battle rather than the flush press of your chests. 

“General!”

“Cody!”

“Scanners picked up tanks and cannons due north. They’re pushing us into an ambush.”

“Fan the men out, try to maneuver around the droids, and make sure the men know not to be pushed in. Use the trees if you must. Take two platoons and circle around wide to the north, and we’ll take another platoon and meet them head on. I’ll confront the Separatists and keep them occupied until we can fully attack and take out the tanks and cannons.”

“Yes, sir!”

Obi-Wan looked at you, indicating that you’d be with him. There was no ordering you to stay behind. You’d already had that argument three days ago when the battle broke out. He’d lost when you’d told him, rightly, that he needed as many boots on the ground as he could get. You had a blaster and you were willing and able to fight. You served the Republic, wherever you were needed.

And this time, you were needed on the battlefield. 

“The Republic truly does need more people like you,” he’d said.

Again, he was entirely too charming for his own good. But you did not mind even a little bit.

The battle continued to rage as Obi-Wan cut a path down the middle, you somewhere amongst his platoon. Your blaster had never felt more natural and comfortable in your hands than it did right then, and if you had any awareness of anything other than the battle, it would rattle you to your core. But as it was, you were too focused on dodging searing bolts, not dying, and trying not to allow the beacon that was Obi-Wan distract you. 

He truly was an elegant fighter, with a refined, precise, absolutely devastating technique. Everything seemed to be about defense with him — deflecting blaster bolts, dodging them, whirling in and out of lines of battle droids. Only when he was too close to deflect bolts did he use his lightsaber to cut through the clankers. 

Though, as you noticed him twirl his blade in arcs of light, and practically dance in between the droids, you had to laugh that his fighting could be as flashy as his negotiations. 

You could instantly tell where the Separatists had laid their trap, because the deep, looming forest around you suddenly thinned. Trees had noticeably been cleared away, leaving a smoother ground beneath your feet that felt very out of place on a planet where the terrain was notoriously difficult. Even to you, someone who was most definitely not a soldier, this screamed trap.

And indeed, in an arc surrounding the clearer landscape was an impressive amount of tanks and cannons. 

Your arrival drew their fire instantly.

Knowing your blasters would do nothing against tanks and cannons, your platoon took cover behind the trees.

“Aim for the operators!” came Obi-Wan’s clear voice. “We need to draw their fire and give the others a chance to flank them!”

But every time someone took out a cannon operator or droid tank commander, another seemed to take their place. And their onslaught was constant and unrelenting. 

A clone only five feet away from you fell with a scream, and your throat squeezed closed. His name had been Draft.

You weren’t sure how long you continued firing from the cover of your tree. Your later memory of the battle would make it feel like it was both seconds and hours later when the Separatists’ onslaught suddenly faltered, and no less than five cannons and three tanks suddenly exploded.

“Move in!”

An entire battalion of droids seemed to meet you in the middle, and it was all you could do to shoot your way through them. The air glowed red around you, and the air itself smelled singed. Every time one of your shots pierced metal, it was like you were watching through someone else’s eyes. The edges of your vision were blurred, and everything seemed to happen too slowly to be real.

An arc of blue cut into your vision. You blinked. And everything became clear again. 

“We need to take out the transports, or the droids will just keep coming!”

Obi-Wan’s voice had never sounded as sweet as it did just then. The mere sound of it allowed you to breathe easier, and your entire body relaxed. You hadn’t even realized how tense you’d been.

“Got a plan?”

That annoying grin of his was back.

“Cover me?”

“What — Obi-Wan!!”

But he dashed away, cutting a path through the battle droids so fast and fiercely you could do nothing but follow.

Between you covering his flashy ass and his flashy lightsaber moves (and more than a few droid poppers and bombs courtesy of Cody), the Separatists were scrap, and the battle was won. 

Later, after the surrounding area was confirmed to be clear of droids and secure, Cody had to laugh as he saw the cross (albeit half-hearted) looks you kept tossing at his general, even as you stood right beside him.

“What did he do this time?”

“Nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought General Skywalker was supposed to be the reckless one.”

Obi-Wan pouted, actually, honest-to-maker pouted, as Cody laughed harder than you’d thought possible. But as you laughed as well, Obi-Wan could only join in.

You really loved his laugh.

The Third Time

You couldn’t say you were much of a singer, but the baby in your arms seemed content with your shaky rendition of a traditional Alderaanian lullaby. Luke was on the precipice of sleep, lulled by your voice and the gentle rocking of your arms. 

The calm soaring of the asteroid field outside the window did nothing for comfort you, neither did the glowing stars behind it. The skin of your cheeks pulled and itched uncomfortably from dried tears. And something deep inside you felt numb. The sweet little baby in your arms was the only thing keeping you grounded right now, so you clung to him in the quiet of the medical station.

Bail had long left with Luke’s sister, as the journey to Alderaan from the Polis Massa asteroid field was rather long. Little Leia had been swathed in warm blankets and the promise of a loving mother and father. Luke too would live happy and loved, away from the Sith and their empire. 

So much had happened in so little time. You could hardly believe it all. But these little babies would hopefully never have to remember the horrors they were born into. They would grow happy, healthy, loved and good.

They would never have to experience the horrors their family had. 

Padmé had been a dear friend to you for a long time, and the thought of her brought more tears to your eyes. You swallowed them back, lest they disturb little Luke. But the thought of Padmé Amidala only brought thoughts of Anakin Skywalker.

And how far and hard he’d fallen.

You had considered him a friend as well. Anyone dear to Padmé and Obi-Wan was dear to you. But your family now lay in tatters, and all that was left was a pair of infants, a trapped senator, the aide who had barely scraped by with their life, and the Jedi who had lost everything.

How had it come to this? How had it come to this.

Quiet footsteps broke through your haze. You recognized them instantly.

You had never seen Obi-Wan look so... subdued. His blue eyes didn’t twinkle as before, and the lines of his body drooped with exhaustion and grief. And yet still, you wondered if it had fully set in yet. What had happened. Anakin. Mustafar. Padmé. Order 66. The fall. The Empire. You wondered if it had fully set in yet, and if not, worried about when it inevitably did.

You worried for yourself too. It would not be long until you heard the ringing of blaster fire and the screams of friends in your dreams.

You’d had the unfortunate luck of being inside the Jedi Temple as Palpatine executed Order 66. You’d been meeting with Jedi Master Corrine Wallen about what it would take to introduce an initiative in the Senate regarding clone rights. With the war waning following the deaths of Count Dooku and General Grievous, it was past time to give the clones the rights they deserved. But as you and Corrine giggled over matching cups of tea, gossiping about mindless little things that made it feel like you weren’t still in the thick of war, Corrine’s giggles had suddenly stopped. And she had fallen, a hole in her chest smoking. 

And at the threshold of the door stood her own clone captain, Miles, his blaster smoking just the same. 

The Jedi Temple erupted into chaos. Clones stormed the place, their fire focused solely on their Jedi brothers and sisters. Lightsabers whirled through the air with sheer confusion and desperation, and the screams of younglings and masters alike echoed through the halls. Miles had not even answered you when you demanded what was happening, beyond a nearly robotic chant of good soldiers follow orders. 

The terror and horror it filled you with would live with you forever.

You had fought your way through the Temple, finger trembling over the trigger of your blaster as you defended the Jedi. It was then the clones turned their fire to you as well. An ally of the Jedi was an enemy to be executed. And you could still feel the stinging heat of the blaster bolt that had streaked past your cheek, leaving singed skin and inevitable nightmares in its wake. 

You’d finally escaped, finding Obi-Wan and Master Yoda hunched over footage of Anakin Skywalker, your friend, slaughtering children. 

What happened afterwards was a bit of a blur. You remembered Obi-Wan and the relief you’d felt seeing him alive. And that same relief mirrored in his own eyes as he looked at you. You remembered Padmé, and her vehement refusal that Anakin was responsible, and the anguish in her as she realized it was true. You remembered the orange and black and red hot surface of Mustafar, and Padmé’s tears as she confronted the man she loved. You remembered Obi-Wan’s lightsaber, ignited and turned on the man he had called brother, and the sheer pain in his eyes as he returned. He hadn’t needed to say it.

Anakin Skywalker was gone.

And now here you were, and the baby in your arms was as good as gravity. You’d surely float and fade away without him.

And you saw the same devastation in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

“The ship is ready,” he said, in barely a whisper.

You swallowed. And nodded.

It was with a tight chest and lump in your throat that you placed the sleeping baby into the little cradle hovering beside Obi-Wan. Tatooine wasn’t too far from Polis Massa, but Obi-Wan would not be returning. And you would not be going with him.

Your place was with Bail. You were not well-known enough to be identified as someone who escaped the Jedi Temple, so you were able to return with him to the Senate. And now with the rise of the Empire, he would need as much support as he could possibly get.

Your place was here. You could not go with Obi-Wan. No matter how much your heart ached to do so.

Obi-Wan looked at you with your heartache reflected in his eyes. But it seemed neither of you were able to say anything. For what was there to possibly say?

But you took a small communicator, untraceable and simple, and pressed it into Obi-Wan’s hands. 

“Just in case.”

Obi-Wan left you with an embrace as memorable as he was. And you knew, as you looked back out at the asteroid field, that it would never leave you.

You would never want it to.

You began to cry.

The Last Time

Obi-Wan walked into the cave of a hovel that had been his reality and home for ten years now. Ever wary, Obi-Wan had been on edge since the moment he’d been alerted of an intruder in his home. And he was prepared to do whatever he had to.

A cloaked figure stood in the cave, practically haloed by the light of the setting suns.

They raised their head, turned, and flicked the hood away.

Obi-Wan nearly stumbled. You were still so beautiful.

“Hello, Obi-Wan.” The mere sight of him had a smile shining in your eyes. “It’s been a long time.”

He slowly relaxed, exhaling heavily. “You should not have come.”

You admitted that it was risky for you to come to Tatooine, but it was a risk you would take a million times over if it meant saving Leia.

“You know I had to.”

Obi-Wan had aged in the past decade. His hair was longer, more scraggly, and the auburn color was fading to a greyed brown. His skin was tanned and weatherbeaten; his clothes were roughspun. You watched as grains of sand rained from his poncho as he pulled it from his shoulders. His boots had seen better days, and frankly, he looked like he needed a shower. But what struck you most was his eyes. 

They were haunted.

Haunted by the horrors of the past, and the bleakness of the future. You wondered if he was sleeping, or if dreams plagued him as much as they did you. Probably more considering his connection to the Force. And as your eyes flicked to his waist, you saw no lightsaber.

Probably for the best, but it was still jarring.

Nevertheless, before you stood the Jedi you had, against all common sense, grown to love. And though everything had changed in the decade since you’d seen each other, that love you felt was so familiar and comforting that seeing Obi-Wan felt like coming home. 

“It’s good to see you, Obi-Wan. Truly.”

His expression softened, and you saw his lips turn up. His smile, too, was changed. Yet you loved it all the same.

“And you. And you.” But as your smile grew, his faded. “But I’ll tell you what I told Bail and Breha. Find someone else.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No! Obi-Wan, don’t you get it? There is no one else!” You strode towards him. “You are the only one we trust to find Leia!”

“My place is here, with Luke!”

“Luke is fine! He is safe! But Leia —” Your voice broke. “They took her. She’s only ten, Obi-Wan, she’s still just a kid. And someone took her! She’s in danger!”

You inhaled sharply, forcing yourself to calm down. Obi-Wan didn’t deserve you yelling at him. Your voice softened. “Despite the sudden appearance of Inquisitors in Mos Eisley, don’t think I didn’t notice, the Empire has no presence on Tatooine. But Leia... She and her parents are public figures in the heart of the Imperial Senate. We cannot risk sending ourselves or a bounty hunter, lest word about her reach the wrong people. And you know this, Obi-Wan.”

He didn’t look at you, and for a long moment, you started to believe he wouldn’t even respond. Until he finally did, in a broken, burdened voice.

“I’m not the same man I once was.”

Your heart ached. “Obi-Wan —”

“No, I failed. I failed! And I won’t fail again! You have to ask someone else. Ask someone else!”

The outburst seemed to drain him, his shoulders slumping as soon as the words were out. He squeezed his eyes shut, and truly, your heart ached.

“Obi-Wan...” You dared to reach up and cup his weathered cheek. He leaned into the touch unconsciously, starved for it. Then consciously, craving it. “We all made mistakes. And no one has forgotten the past. But we cannot cling to it. It is to our future we now must look. And our future lies with Luke and Leia.” You brought your other hand up, cradling the face of a suffering man in as gentle of a hold as you could manage, for Tatooine was not a gentle place. “I do not have the skills to go after Leia myself, Obi-Wan. And I’m too recognizable now. So Bail sent me here to watch over Luke while you rescue Leia. He would never ask you to leave the boy on his own.”

Obi-Wan’s hands, trembling, slowly came to cup over your own.

“I know you have suffered, Obi-Wan. More than anyone. And it’s not fair to ask more of you than you have already given, and I wish desperately I did not have to ask at all. But there is no one else we trust to find her, Obi-Wan.” Your lips wobbled, thinking of the princess. That imp of a girl with absolutely no filter, more sass than seemed possible for her tiny little body, and all the makings of a galaxy-rocking leader. Your niece, for all intents and purposes, who you loved with all your heart.

“We cannot let them, let her suffer as we have, Obi-Wan.”

It nearly broke you, seeing the tears your words brought to his eyes. And you’d meant it when you’d said you wished you did not have to ask this of him, but you had no choice. Obi-Wan truly was the only one you and the Organas trusted to find and save Leia.

He was your only hope. 

“You’ll stay with him?”

Obi-Wan’s voice had roughened in the last decade. The accent was no less lilting, but where once his voice had seemed silken and even musical at times, it was now roughened from a decade of Tatooine sands and grief.

You still loved it all the same.

“I promise.”

Obi-Wan’s lips touched yours so gently tears instantly sprang to your eyes. Everything was different. You, him, the galaxy, everything. But here and now, with his unpracticed, chapped lips against yours and his greying beard scratching delightfully against your skin, you could swear it was the closest you would ever come to finding solace. 

So you cradled Obi-Wan’s head in your hands and kissed him as gently and tenderly as he deserved.

“I’m sorry, my love,” came his whisper after you’d pulled away. His eyes were still wet, and you knew he wasn’t apologizing for the kiss, but rather that you’d never have the opportunity for it to become more. 

You smiled, gently.

“I’m not.” You pecked his lips. “This was a gift, Obi-Wan. You are a gift. To the twins, to the galaxy. To me. Don’t apologize for making me happier than I’ve been in the last ten years.”

Obi-Wan surged forward, kissing you with still unpracticed, but passionate abandon. Smiling beneath him, you guided his lips into a rhythm, continuing to hold and kiss him with everything you weren’t able to voice. Reverence. Appreciation. Grief for what could’ve been. Yearning. Relief. Happiness.

Love.

You helped him pack. He showed you the best spots to observe and watch over the Lars farm. He offered you his credits so you could get food in town. You shoved them and more back at him when you saw how little he truly had. And then snuck more into his stash when he wasn’t looking. 

And when Obi-Wan left you the next morning, a lightsaber on his hip and his kiss still searing your lips, you truly felt happier than you had in a very long time.

You weren’t sure how long it would take for him to return, though you had complete faith he would find and save Leia, so you settled in. Luke was a cute kid, just like his sister. And you were endlessly amused at how alike they were without even knowing. More than once you had caught Leia sneaking into the woods or kitchens in order to escape her responsibilities. And similarly, you’d now observed Luke, more than once, sneak away from his uncle and chores in favor of pretending to be a pod racer or playing with his toys. Not to mention both of them seemed to like watching the incoming and outgoing ships.

Indeed, you felt happy. 

______________

The age of the Empire had seemed to stretch for centuries, and you felt you could remember each agonizing, oppressive day with excruciating detail. Nineteen years. Nineteen years since that fateful, horrific day.

And yet you felt change was coming.

Leia now was the Galactic — Imperial — Senator of Alderaan, and you served as her aide just as you had served her father. And while your days were still filled with bureaucratic nonsense and political lunacy and senseless cruelty that all came together to be your personal, ongoing nightmare, you still continued to serve as you always had: to the best of your ability. 

Though Leia had still yet to curb the compulsion to straight-up tell others they were morons. Sometimes, you were tempted to let her.

News of Scarif had been both terrifying and exhilarating. The Alliance to Restore the Republic, the rebellion you proudly and secretly served, had finally secured their first true victory against the Empire. But many had given their lives for such a victory, and part of you feared it was not over. More was still to come. Word of the Death Star, the Imperial superweapon and planet-killer was a harrowing thing. Both Jedha City and Scarif had met their fates by it. 

But with this victory, and with the stolen Death Star plans, you had real, genuine hope that the Empire would not win. 

Leia had been on her way back to Alderaan from Coruscant when word of Rogue One’s mission spread through the Rebellion. And as the battle loomed, Leia lied in wait nearby, ready to receive the secret, stolen plans. Ready to receive hope. 

But with Leia occupied with bringing the plans to the Rebellion, it was up to you to step up and represent her in the Senate. So you were packing your things to return to Coruscant. 

You liked the congested planet even less now than you did twenty years ago.

“Ready?”

You smiled at Bail over your shoulder. He truly was your oldest and dearest friend. You admired and trusted him like none other.

“Never.”

He chuckled. “You are more than capable.”

“Of course I’m capable, I just don’t like it.”

Bail laughed more heartily. “Oh, my friend, as always, I’ll miss you while you’re gone.”

You smiled. “I’ll miss you too, Bail. Walk me to my shuttle?”

“As if you need to ask.”

But as you and Bail left your home, the sky darkened, like it had been taken by a sudden night.

And indeed, when you looked up, shielding your eyes, you could see a large, moon-like sphere eclipsing the sun.

Terror seized your body. That was no moon.

Across the galaxy, inside a hunk of junk masquerading as a Corellian freighter, Obi-Wan Kenobi clutched his heart and fell.

______________

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[fandomsandflyingstingrays]

1, 11, 23 for fandom ask game!

List 3 positive things about your current fandom(s)

I think the only fandoms I've got right now that are actively releasing new content are The Dragon Prince and Ahsoka? So for TDP: I love how rich and nuanced the worldbuilding is, the soundtrack is fantastic, and the backgrounds are so detailed and beautiful! For Ahsoka: I will never be quiet about how well-characterized Ezra is, it translated Lothal perfectly into live action, and it brought us Murley, whom I would die for.

11. If you're a writer or artist, what fic or piece of art are you proud of making?

This is such a sweet question! I'm very proud of the Stepping Stones series, just because it's way longer than anything I've ever done before.

23. A fandom you're curious about because of a mutual

Pretty much all of my Star Wars mutuals have been posting about Jedi Survivor. I'm not a big video game person, but I do get slightly closer to watching a playthrough every day just so that I can understand everyone's references

Thank you so much for the ask!!!

#the dragon prince #ahsoka series #ezra bridger #sw murley #jedi survivor #no-white-dress #ray rambles

[voidartisan]

okay now that i've had several hours to process i need to gush about The Bandits of Golak????? Screecher's Reach has a special place in my heart for a variety of reasons but I think this was my favorite episode of Visions so far.

So often Star Wars focuses on force-sensitives, and anyone who follows me knows that I'm the last person to complain about more Jedi content, but it's kind of refreshing to have an episode that arguably focuses more on a Force-null family member/caretaker (probably another reason I like TBB so much)

AND. the sibling dynamics were so realistic. very often in media it's the "idealistic younger sibling changes jaded older sibling's point of view, vastly improving their lives" which probably happens sometimes and is not a bad thing. but this one demonstrated what it's like to have to take care of your younger sibling 99% of the time. Very often they're naive and impulsive and seem to lack basic self-preservation skills and it gets you both into trouble! but you take care of them anyway! because they're just a kid!!!

i loved the animation, too. it was so rich and detailed.

also: old lady jedi with cool lightsabers >>>>>>

#maybe i'm just incapable of being normal about this one bc of childhood experiences with my next-youngest sister idk #in any case i relate to charuk a painful amount #star wars #sw