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ghostofskywalker · 2 years

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i wish i loved you title with obiwan 💌

vic my beloved, thank you for indulging my love of obi-wan, and here is an incredibly sad fic for you <;3

words: 1,703

summary: after obi-wan is assigned to protect you, feelings for him start to blossom out of control. but unfortunately it was just your luck to fall for the one man who could never love you back.

obi-wan kenobi masterlist

I Wish I Loved You

You smiled at Obi-Wan when you stepped into the kitchen of your Coruscant apartment, stifling a quiet yawn behind your hand. “Good morning Master Kenobi,” you said quietly as you poured yourself a cup of caf.

“Good morning Senator,” he responded, smiling.

He was always this quiet around you, a shadow in the background as you went about your daily activities. You had been unsure about the idea of personal Jedi protection when it had first been offered to you, but you had since grown to trust Obi-Wan with your life. He had been by your side now for a few months, and you couldn’t help it when you noticed your feelings for him grow each moment you spent together.

He had been one of the few people to offer you unwavering kindness during these troubling times, as the Separatists attacking your village was what had dragged you and your people into this mess. Even as you went to the Senate, they failed to vote in favor of increased aid for the ruined communities that now littered your planet. After all the time you had spent voting to send help to other systems, you were disgusted at your colleagues’ refusal to help in your time of need. If it wasn’t for the help of Padmé Amidala, and the reassurance that she would do whatever she could to help you, you probably would have said things you later regretted at that meeting, and probably spat in the face of the Supreme Chancellor. You were just incredibly thankful that the Jedi Council had been more receptive to your needs than the Senate.

“I have a meeting today with the Supreme Chancellor to appeal my plea to the Senate,” you said as you sat down at the table and took a sip of your drink. “If he does not reconsider sending the motion back to a vote, I fear that my people will fall victim to a famine in the not-so distant future.”

Obi-Wan nodded in response. “Would you like me to accompany you in the meeting, or just stand guard outside?”

“If you’d be so kind, I’d prefer it if you were there with me,” you said softly, looking at him with hopeful eyes. You knew about his distaste for Chancellor Palpatine (as much as he tried to hide it), and if you were being honest you felt a similar aversion to the man, so any support in your meeting would be very much appreciated.

“Of course Senator.”

“You know you can call me Y/N, right?” you said teasingly. “I’ve told you since you were assigned to protect me.”

“You do not like your title? It is one that comes with great prestige you know.”

“Please, you hate politicians.”

“That is only partially true, I dislike the politicians who exercise their power exclusively for themselves and do not care about the people they are supposed to be representing,” he said, and you felt yourself nod in agreement, as you felt the same way. “And besides, you always refer to me by my title, so I will do the same with you.”

You playfully rolled your eyes before speaking, and you could see the beginnings of a smile on his face. “Oh, so I should start calling you Obi-Wan?” His name felt perfect to say as it slipped from your lips, and for a fleeting moment, you thought he might feel the same things for you that you feel for him.

“I don’t know about that,” he said, and it was like the light in the room dimmed slightly as he spoke. “I doubt the council would approve.”

Well, that didn’t mean he doesn’t feel that way. It was quite a reach, but you still tried to convince yourself of its truth. “The council’s not here, are they?”

“Maker, now you sound like Anakin.”

“Well, have you ever considered the fact that Anakin is right?” you said, and you laughed at the expression on Obi-Wan’s face.

“Y/N,” You sat up a little straighter when he said your name, and it sounded perfect coming from him. There was an easy smile on his face as he spoke, and decided in that moment that you never wanted to see him in any other way. “Don’t ever tell him you suggested that, his ego is big enough.”

You laughed once more as you finished your caf, but the moment was soon over when you had to start getting ready for you meeting with the Chancellor.

***

Kriff, you hated galas. They were too flashy and too gaudy, and it felt wrong to sip expensive drinks and wear lavish clothes while so much of the galaxy was still embroiled in a bitter war they could not control. But unfortunately the nature of your profession meant that you had to make regular appearances at events like these, because the well-being of your people often depended on the connections you could make at these events, and as much as you disliked many of your coworkers, your people were your first priority.

Thankfully the Chancellor had been attentive to your pleas, and you were able to set aside more resources for those who had been affected by the Separatist attack, but you still felt like more could be done. It didn’t help that the outfit you were wearing probably cost double the amount of aid had been sent to your planet, but these clothes had been gifted to you specifically for this occasion.

Soon you grew tired of mingling with people who did nothing but try to make themselves seem better than you at every turn, and you scanned the room for Obi-Wan. He was standing in the corner of the room, and you could feel his gaze resting on you, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling. At the first chance you had, you found yourself walking over to him. “Master Kenobi, might I have this dance?”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” he said quietly.

You hoped the look on your face would get him to reconsider. “Please?” you asked. “You don’t have to stand there all night, and besides, wouldn’t I be the best protected while I was dancing with you?”

You could see his façade break slightly, and he eventually accepted your hand and walked with you to where others were dancing. The music was slow and calm as you started to spin with him, and you couldn’t help but reconsider your opinion on galas for a moment, especially if going to events like these meant you would get to dance with him.

His normal Jedi robes had been traded for slightly fancier attire as well, and you would be lying if you didn’t wish you could see him like this more often. “Credit for your thoughts?” he asked softly as he pulled you slightly closer.

“Are Jedi allowed to love, Obi-Wan?”

He stiffened slightly, but didn’t pull away like you were expecting. “Why do you ask?”

Maybe it was the liquor that loosened your lips, but you couldn’t help but respond with what was actually on your mind. “Because I have fallen in love with you, and I wanted to know if there is any future for us.”

“I’m afraid I must break your heart,” he said quietly, and you suddenly felt a bit ill as you realized what was happening. “As much as I wish I could love you, I must abide by the Code, my dear.”

“Of course,” you said, your tone clipped and your movements slightly stiff. “And I apologize for overstepping, I must have had too much to drink this evening.” It was a flimsy excuse, but you didn’t care. Now, all you wanted to do was forget this ever happened, to leave this gala and go back to your apartment where you could grieve for the future you so desperately wished would come to pass. You made up your mind as you stood there in shame, that tomorrow you would reach out to the Jedi council and request to terminate your protection as soon as possible. There were clearly many more importing things Obi-Wan could be doing in the galaxy other than protecting you, and you didn’t want him to pity you, the poor Senator who obviously misread the signs of friendship.

“It’s quite alright,” he said softly.

“Could you take me back to my apartment Master Kenobi?” you asked quietly, letting go of his hand. “I’m not feeling too well.”

If he noticed the way you switched back to calling him by his title, he didn’t say anything about it. “Of course,” he said gently, and you could see a slightly worried look on his face.

No more words were exchanged as you went back to your apartment and got ready for bed. Obi-Wan had already retired to the other room by the time you allowed your emotions to come forward, and you had to desperately try to hold back your tears until you were among the privacy of your own four walls. There were going to be tear stains on your pillow tomorrow morning, but there was nothing you could do to stop that now.

Unbeknownst to you, Obi-Wan could feel your raw and ragged emotion crashing over him all the way from the other room. The Force had always been strong with you, and this time he was sure you would rather he not know exactly what you were feeling, even though he couldn’t help it. He had messed up tonight when he told you that he didn’t love you, as that had been a bold-faced lie, but he thought he was doing the right thing. Not only did he have to answer to the Code, but the life he lived was one of danger and fear, and he would never want to subject you to that kind of pain.

He sighed as he wrapped himself in a blanket and tried to drift off to sleep, knowing that Anakin was going to be annoyed at him when he found out what he had done. His former padawan always managed to sniff these things out when it came to you, no matter how much Obi-Wan tried to hide his feelings.

- the end -

#tori’s 2k celebration 🦀#name buddy 👑#obi wan kenobi #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #obi wan kenobi fanfiction #obi wan x reader #obi wan x you #obi wan x y/n #star wars #star wars x reader

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multifanderwrites · 2 months

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Previous Scene- Cleaning the Droids |

{Dining Room}

(Owen is sitting down, eating his dinner. Beru is pouring blue milk into a pitcher by the time Katniss and Luke come to sit with the aging couple. Katniss sits in the chair facing opposite Luke, in between Owen and Beru. Luke is the first to speak) “You know, I think that R2 unit we bought might’ve been stolen.”

(Owen quickly tells his nephew…) “I know the dog is-“

“A member of Aunt Kat’s team? Yeah. I’m not- I’m more worried about the R2 unit right now. I really think it might have been stolen by the Jawas.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

(Luke digs into his meal) “I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him.”

(Owen looks at Katniss) “Did he?”

(She nods) “I was there.”

“Yeah, he says he belongs to someone called Obi-Wan Kenobi.” (Unaware of the silent exchange between Owen and Beru) “I thought he might have meant old Ben. Aunt Kat isn’t sure… as far as I can tell. Do you know what he’s talking about?” (Owen shakes his head, doesn’t want to talk about this. Luke can see the gears in Katniss’s head turning) “I wonder if he’s related to Ben.”

(Katniss doesn’t get to respond. Owen, not wanting to discuss anything about the matter) “That wizard’s just a crazy old man.”

(Katniss doesn’t know where it came from but…) “We’re all a little crazy.”

(A glare from Owen, who’s… really unhappy about Katniss- the direct extension of his stepbrother, who is the most dangerous man the universe has ever known- being the person in charge of protecting Luke from temporal threats) “Tomorrow, I want you to take that R2 unit to Anchorhead and have its memory erased. That’ll be the end of it. It belongs to us now.”

(Katniss, unable to eat because of how anxious she feels. Beru smiles warmly at her stepsister in law) “Just take your time.”

(Luke… yeah, Luke is fully aware of how much his literary aunt has been through… not just in terms of missions) “What if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?”

*stop this talk* “He won’t.” (Owen is having mini flashbacks to the near death experience with Reva) “I don’t think he exists anymore.” (Beat) “He died about the same time as your father.”

(Luke turns his head sharply toward his uncle) “He knew my father?”

(Owen is not in the mood for this conversation) “I told you to forget it.” (Before Katniss can say anything) “Don’t encourage him. Your only concern is to prepare those new droids for tomorrow. In the morning, I want them up there on the south ridge, working on those condensers.”

*😞* “Yes, sir.” (Obvious question) “What about the dog?”

[Owen… bruh] “He’s my new hunting dog.”

(Katniss shakes her head, laughs dryly) “No.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Zip’s not a hunting dog.”

“That’s why I’ll train him.”

“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, let alone how to hunt-“

[Owen- Lipstick in my white Valentino bag-] “Watch me.”

*I am a bitch, and I don’t care* “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!”

(Beru finally speaks up, unable to bear this conversation any longer) “Enough! Please.”

(A brief stare down between Owen and Katniss before they both go back to their food. Luke feels incredibly awkward, but he overcomes it by saying…) “I think those new droids are gonna work out fine. In fact, I… I was also thinking about our agreement, about me staying on another season.” (A beat) “If these new droids do work out… and the dog… does something… I wanna transmit my application to the Academy this year.”

(Owen is curious to hear more, and very concerned) “You mean the next semester before the harvest?”

“Sure. There’s more than enough droids. And you have a dog now too.”

“But the harvest is when I need you the most. It’s only one season more. This year we’ll make enough on the harvest that I’ll be able to hire some more hands and then you can go to the Academy next year.” (Owen sighs) “You must understand, I need you here, Luke.”

“But it’s a whole ‘nother year.”

“It’s only one more season.”

(Luke gets up from the table) “That’s what what you said when Biggs and Tank left.”

[oh my fucking god. Why is there so much poetry here? George, are you kidding me?] (Beru is saddened by her nephew’s excusing himself) “Where are you going?”

“Looks like I’m going nowhere.”

(Katniss follows) “Luke-“

“I have to go finish cleaning those droids. Maybe that’s Aunt Kat’s mission.”

(The aging couple have a conversation alone) “Owen, he can’t stay here forever. Most of his friends have gone. It means so much to him.”

“I’ll make it up to him next year. I promise. And we’ve got more help this time.”

(Beru chuckles softly) “Luke’s just not a farmer, Owen. He has too much of his father in him.”

(Owen has mini flashbacks to the moment he saw his stepmother in the arms of his stepbrother… and how much anger was on the boy’s face) “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

(Beru sighs) “You know who else he has in his blood? Katniss.”

(Owen laughs) “Why do you think I’m so afraid?”

| Next Scene- A Sentimental Moment by The Binary Sunset |

#fanfiction #the mixiverse #star wars #anakin skywalker #katniss everdeen #owen lars #beru whitesun #luke skywalker #obi wan kenobi #a new hope

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bloodbuzz-smartypants · 1 year

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I posted 6,786 times in 2022

That's 3,562 more posts than 2021!

44 posts created (1%)

6,742 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@thetorontokid

@sparkly-angell

@weaponizedwit

@pohjanneito

@scarletvisionss

I tagged 6,312 of my posts in 2022

Only 7% of my posts had no tags

#fanart - 1,425 posts

#time to q - 1,253 posts

#the witcher - 890 posts

#lol - 761 posts

#our flag means death - 709 posts

#jaskier - 555 posts

#geraskier - 472 posts

#geralt - 462 posts

#obi-wan kenobi - 394 posts

#blackbonnet - 361 posts

Longest Tag: 130 characters

#i feel sorry for the people who are directly affected by this fool's antics but popcorning this clown show is entertaining as hell

My Top Posts in 2022:

I know we talk a lot about Geralt realizing and/or appreciating Jaskier's ripped S2 body but I kinda want to read about Geralt appreciating S1's softer Jaskier.

You know, that huge ass contrast between the two of them. That while Jaskier is softer he's by no means less manly, and howwhydafuc is he lusting after him, etc. That kind of thing.

25 notes - Posted March 7, 2022

Come back, my dream, into my arms

Also on AO3 :)

///

“Come back, my dream, into my arms,” Jaskier pleaded. His was voice heavy with sleep.

Geralt was a few meters away, having just put his second boot on. He looked at him and chuckled at the line. Jaskier, ever the poet, even half asleep.

Jaskier was laying on Geralt’s bed, — their bed now —, with his arms stretched out, open for the embrace he was pleading for. He was wearing his nightclothes, the shirt a soft light grey fabric which had a couple of open buttons and was so exposing his chest. His eyes were shut and there was a pout on his lips. His cheeks were a slight pink and his hair was completely disheveled. He looked ridiculous and beautiful and gods Geralt loved him. He contemplated mentioning all three facts. The ridiculousness, the beauty, and the love. Instead, he walked to the bed and sunk into Jaskier’s arms.

Jaskier held him immediately, humming deeply, a purr of satisfaction coming out as he did. Geralt nuzzled into his neck and kissed his pulse line, a steady relaxed beat underneath his lips.

“Is it me you want, or are you dreaming of something else?” Geralt teased into his lover’s skin.

“Always you. Always,” Jaskier mumbled.

Geralt’s heart quivered. He groaned and felt himself grow hotter. How easy these lines came to Jaskier now that their feelings had been declared and talked over. Jaskier had always used words brilliantly, in discourse, or when weaving affections into song. That had been no less true whenever he conveyed his deepest feelings, but Geralt had only recently realized he had been doing it all along. And still, no matter how long it passed or how many times he heard such words, Geralt was always dazed by the sincerity and love-filled wave that came with them. These words that had been poured almost unconsciously held a truth that made them even more precious, and maybe Geralt would not admit it out loud, but he relished on the knowledge that he was a constant presence in Jaskier’s mind.

“Morning,” Geralt tried.

Another short hum was all Jaskier could muster. Geralt knew how utterly sluggish Jaskier got while waking up. It took the man some time to become fully alert, a privilege Geralt did not have, and Jaskier’s mind always seemed a little foggy, if not slow, before he could actually set into the day ahead.

Geralt made to sit back up but Jaskier just held him tighter, not wanting to let go.

Another hum, this one demanding and discontent. The irony that Geralt could now read these hums did not go unnoticed to him, and the implication of habit and familiarity deepened his smile over Jaskier’s smooth skin.

Geralt gave in for a few moments. He squeezed Jaskier tighter and sniffed him with a deep inhale. Jaskier’s morning scent was warm and summery and pinched with a hint of arousal. Geralt closed his eyes and committed it to his memory.

He eased the embrace and parted just enough so he could face him. If he didn’t know better he’d say Jaskier was still fully asleep.

“Morning, bard,” he tried again.

Jaskier exhaled deeply, finally opening his eyes, and as soon as he saw Geralt’s golden ones looking back at him he smiled openly and kissed him, a low content moan coming with it.

“Morning, Witcher. Stay?” he slurred, closing his sleepy eyes again as if having them open was a chore.

Geralt kissed him softly and Jaskier deepened the kiss even in his dazed state as if driven out by a higher need. Yet another happy hum got out.

Geralt could sense Jaskier’s body starting to wake up, how it got warmer still, how his heart rate picked up, how he was now half hard. All he wanted was to stay and indulge his partner with whatever he might need him for.

He parted the kiss and moved his hand to caress Jaskier’s messy bed hair, lovingly pushing it away from his forehead. Jaskier leaned into the touch and peeped at him while bringing his own hand to brush Geralt’s white hair he loved so much, mirroring Geralt’s gesture.

“Ciri’s waiting,” Geralt said. He knew this was argument enough for both of them. Jaskier nodded, resigned.

Geralt sat and held Jaskier’s hand in his, resting them over Jaskier’s chest.

“I’m going now,” Geralt wanted to be sure Jaskier would not be surprised to find him gone if he got back to sleep. After some serious talking between the two, the issue of abandonment was now one Geralt was very much aware of. By no means did he want Jaskier to have it cross his mind again. Not even for a confusing moment.

“Jask,” Geralt called.

Jaskier opened his eyes briefly and squeezed Geralt’s hand, reassuring him he had heard him.

“Go. I’ll know where to find you,” he nodded.

Geralt kissed him lightly, a silent ‘I love you’ on his lips. Jaskier smiled, dozing off already, and Geralt left for his day.

60 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

I have to say,

after watching 'Our flag means death' and having my shipper heart actually see a ship go canon, with actual acknowledgment of said ship AND a simple enough thing as a kiss, it would be expected that screaming asdfghjkl would be the reaction but really, all I feel is refreshed. Absolutely refreshed.

For all the media I consume, even on 2nd hand here, I honestly did not think we'd get to see this so soon. REFRESHING! And now all I want is more!

152 notes - Posted March 30, 2022

Jaskier shivered. His skin felt as cold as he wished his heart did. The keep was dark and grey and unwelcoming. Or at least, it seemed that way to him.

Everyone had gone away for the night, but Jaskier decided to stroll around the keep, both wishing and dreading sleep would catch him. Nights had been difficult for him and had been so for a while. There was always too much on his mind, too many questions, too many conflicting emotions. Love, hate. Hope, despair. And longing. So much longing. He had worded so many of them in the way of song, hoping to purge them out of his heart. But he was failing, and he knew no song he’d ever written would rid him of what Geralt made him feel.

He was holding a wool blanket over his back, the simple shirt he had borrowed clearly not enough to warm a human in the cold nights of Kaer Morhen. The cloth was black and a little tight for his liking, and he suspected it might have been Geralt’s at some point. He had found some clean clothes neatly folded over his small bed and had been appreciative of the fact that someone had noticed his lack of wardrobe options. He owed them thanks, whoever they were.

The urgency to help and to defeat evil was gone for now which meant that everything else had caught up to him. As he heard his own footsteps on the stone floor everything felt too much. He couldn’t take Geralt’s pleading look, the “I missed you too”, out of his mind, but he also could not forget how little sorry he had seemed to be for hurtful words and long absences. Could he possibly not have known?

It had been a couple of days since the battle, and little had changed since then. He was not sure what to expect. From Geralt, his Witcher brothers, even of himself, but he decided to give it time. He just hoped he would be able to hold himself up to what he knew would be trying times. Facing Geralt, facing his own feelings and understanding what to finally do with them if he intended to stay by Geralt’s side. He sighed tiredly at the thought.

He approached a large fireplace in one of the halls and sat down on the couch placed right in front of it. It was comfortable, to his surprise, and he could not help to lean into it.

He looked at the fire, flexing his now healed hand, and shivered for entirely different reasons. Now there were some thoughts he really didn’t need. He pushed them out of his mind.

He closed his eyes for a second. He felt himself floating, light as a feather as if carried by the wind. He suddenly saw Geralt in a meadow, buttercups surrounding him, the late spring sun warm and inviting. He was looking into the horizon with a peaceful look on his face. He turned and held out his hand to Jaskier. Jaskier then approached him, took Geralt's hand to his lips, and kissed his knuckles softly. “I love you,” he whispered into his skin, a breeze ruffling his hair lightly.

“I know.” and Geralt smiled so joyfully it brought tears to Jaskier’s eyes. “Thank you for being you. For your patience. For waiting.”

“I’m here for you now, and there’s so much we need to say to each other,” Jaskier stated, smiling back at him, reassured and just as happy. He knew then that whatever came their way, they would always find each other again.

“We have time.” Geralt said, and bringing his hand to Jaskier’s face, kissed him gently, almost shyly.

Jaskier twitched and awoke as if hours had passed. It had been so long since he had such a nice dream. It was one of those that stay with you for a long while. Those you remember so vividly and that leave a nice feeling in your chest. The ones you want to relive over and over.

He opened his eyes and was startled, as he found himself in his bed, boots off and under the covers. He looked as he saw the door to his room close, a glimpse of white silvery hair disappear as it did.

“Geralt”, he murmured. And he brought his fingers to his lips, blushing and suddenly feeling hot.

Comfortable and warm in his bed, he looked out the window, saw the first rays of sunshine, and smiled, hopeful.

198 notes - Posted March 10, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

“What are you doing?” Geralt said with a soft laugh, his eyes closed. He was lying on the grass, his head over Jaskier’s lap. The morning sun was warm and inviting, summer just a few weeks away.

Jaskier had always loved Geralt’s hair. It was softer than it looked and it shined beautifully under any kind of light. Moonlight’s was his favourite though. So he had been playing with a few strands of Geralt’s hair, turning them into tiny braids until he suddenly stopped. Geralt assumed he had simply gotten bored with it but Jaskier then turned his attention to Geralt’s face and was now tracing it intently.

But these were not mere caresses. He seemed to be actively investigating his features. He ran his index fingers over his forehead, moving into his eyebrows, coming down to his eyelids, his eyes, then slowly going over his perfect nose, smoothing over his cheekbones and into his jaw until he got to his inviting lips. He lingered there for a while, gently brushing over and over, tickling Geralt in the process and prompting his question.

“I want to commit every line of your beautiful face into memory. Have it engraved so in my mind that if the day comes that I can’t see it I’ll still be able to recognise it by touch alone”, he replied.

There was no sadness on Jaskier’s voice, he still felt playful even if his words rang serious.

Geralt opened his eyes, gazed into Jaskier who had a happy look on his face, and reached his hand to cup Jaskier’s cheek.

“You’re the beautiful one. If anything, you’ll just get tired of looking at me.”

Jaskier held Geralt’s hand over his cheek and leaned into it.

“Impossible, my love. I could live a thousand years and I would still worship you the same if not more. I will love your face and those golden eyes until my dying breath”, Geralt’s usual self-deprecating tone did not go unnoticed to Jaskier and he just wanted to downpour his affection and reassurances into Geralt. Have him believe his words had not been a poet’s jet.

“Oh dear, can’t you see? Pretty face or not, I will always love you. Wholeheartedly. I will never leave your side again so you’re stuck with me. For however long you’ll have me.”

Geralt’s hand went from Jaskier’s cheek into his nape, pulling him into a deep kiss that nearly took Jaskier’s breath away, as so many of them did.

“Thank you. Those words make me very happy. You make me happy, Jask”, he smiled at him, open and sincere.

“And that makes me the happiest one. I fancy we’re just some lovesick fools then. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

199 notes - Posted March 6, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #interesting #i hardly post anything original anyway #but so many reblogs lmao #🤷‍♀️#long post

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battlekilt · 2 years

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Cody alone is an argument for ObiRex

After Cody found out that Rex and his blasted Jedi Ginger Bastard got inappropriately attached to each other, the Commander had been in a particular mood... that only Obi-Wan was the subject of because Cody certainly wasn't going to blame Rex—Cody just knew the Captain had been duped, the victim of a Jedi Mind-Control hand waving or some Force osik!

He had also found out that he couldn't find any of his slugthrowers! Blasted Kenobi knew him too well.

Ever since Skywalker had come to all-too calm terms over it, Cody had lost his ally in this particular campaign—Campaign, 'I don't think so, you bastard—get away from my little brother!' Not that Rex was little. He was the same height as Cody, though a little leaner under his armor. Not that most people would know that Cody damn-well knew that Kenobi SHOULDN'T become aware of that, but he had. Enough to make an off-handed remark one day. Out of nowhere.

Why Kenobi took pleasure in driving Cody to madness, Cody wouldn't know. But the pitied 'oh Cody' confrontations had only gotten worse.

After an in-field strategy session and Rex escorted Skywalker out, Cody saw the look and the smile on Kenobi's face; he needed it gone, and smacking the man in the mouth in front of the junior officers was considered bad taste... and grounds for a lengthy stay in Fox's stockades. Though, Kenobi might find a better punishment for Cody: he'll find a way to have a new rank created, just so he can promote Cody, again, SOMEHOW—after all, Kenobi was a space wizard... that vile, vile man.

Not for the first time, Cody grumbled under his breath and went unheard, "I should have swapped places with Ponds. Then I'd be dead… and this damned army would be Ponds's problem."

Never mind the fact that Seventeen had told Kenobi to get 'The Golden One' from the 91st. Before all this, Cody fretted that maybe Kenobi was supposed to pick Rex to be his Marshal Commander and Cody's stupid nickname just bungled that up? The thought that he might not have been the intended Clone Commander for General Kenobi used to secretly keep him up at night with questions about why Rex and not him...

WELL, at least Cody didn't ask that question about the Stupid Face. He would commit self-inflicted brain damage and transferred to the Tadpole nurseries himself. Him and Kenobi? What a dreadful response—Rex, foolish mistakes are for the young, but WHY this one? At least it wasn't Skywalker... never mind, both were terrible options.

Cody had looked away to gather their intel materials, and hoped that by the time he looked back, the General's focus would be—anywhere but watching the Captain talk with Skywalker in the middle of the busy encampment. It rained, it poured, Kenobi had one of the stupidest faces Cody had ever seen—he's seen a lot of stupid faces, he knows his brothers, after all. He'd be impressed by his General's level of stupid face if it wasn't directed at Rex.

Time to peel the face off of Kenobi.

"He's twelve, sir," Cody growled out between his teeth. He knew that age was much more linear to natborns, very defined and segmented, and they got tetchy about it in ways the Clones never did.

Whether it was his remark or the force which Cody 'handed' the datapad to Kenobi—he's told the Jedi over and over again, things like that wouldn't happen if he wore his armor like he was supposed to. Kenobi grunted, dropped his wind, and sounded like a crotchety old man to Cody.

"Cody, do be reasonable—"

No, Cody was not going to be reasonable on this matter. If General Kenobi wanted to exchange stupid faces with a Trooper and get in his plates, he should have chosen a DIFFERENT one than Captain Rex. Wooley was blonde, though darker, also an ARC, and sweet. Plus, he was in the 212th, so Cody could... chaperone them more. No, wait, Wooley was his only ARC—that would also be embarrassing.

Waxer? No, Boil would sulk. Maybe another CC? Wolffe? Wait... that would never happen. Wolffe always acted half his chronological age—so, like six—when he saw the stupid faces others made, and gagged like he was going to be forced to eat a plateful of Insect a la Skywalker. Gree! Gree would talk to Kenobi about boring things like... dead things, and his haircut would be the perfect revenge on the Jedi.

"—Rex has had his age advanced, just like you, besides—"

Cody didn't care—NOT his Vod'ika—NOT his Verd'ika!

Cody had to practically fight off too many others, so Rex would ask him to be his Ori'vod—Wolffe almost beat him too it, and Neyo had been giving Cody hopeful eyes, or at least as much hope as passed in those dead-soul eyes; Bacara was a much better choice for that creepy vod, anyway.

The General was going to embarrass him—not that he hadn't already. What was worse, word spread fast in the GAR, and Cody was already beginning to get the most misery-inducing missives from his brothers who shared wedding suggestions.

Gree had shown his obnoxiousness by self-educating himself about the traditions of Stewjonian tartan patterns. With Bly's help, who loved natborn fashion too much—almost as much as Fox's idiot Thorn, though Cody suspected General Secura had been in on the plans, Gree had even suggested patterns to show the merging of 'The House of Kenobi' and 'The House of Rex.' While his brothers broke into a debate whether it was Rex's house, Cody's house, or Skywalker's house—Cody noticed proposed lines of yellow-gold, HIS—how dare—212th gold, he swore he'd finish shaving the rest of Gree's head, including his eyebrows; he might even pluck his lashes, strand by strand. Fox had proved he could outperform them all, and even told that 'Silly Little Girl Chuchi,' who sincerely believed Cody needed a list of venues to vet for such an affair.

'An Affair!' — The Marshal Commander's frown deepened and his chin dimpled; it was a good thing the clouds had begun to part because there were no rays of sunshine from him.

"—so are you," the General said between his barely parted lips; Cody whipped his head around like the bastard had just invited another Separatist General out for tea. The obnoxious Jedi still muttered a soft expression of polite gratitude as he took the heavy field commpad.

Offended, Cody shoved his under an arm, extended a boot past the General, and growled as he passed, "I'm twelve and A HALF."

Sufficiently distracted, Kenobi missed Rex's smile, just before the Captain turned to walk away by Skywalker's side. The red-haired groaned, turned to follow his Commander back into the misty greyness, "Cody, six months is not really—"

"To YOU, six months isn't really anything. Not to me. I'm a Clone! Six-months is a YEAR to me," a petulant Marshal Commander shot back to a very exhausted General.

"So what you're saying is... Rex is twenty-four?" Obi-Wan grinned through his beard, an expression that only got broader when Cody dead-stopped, quarter-turned on him, and glowered before he returned on his forward march. Kenobi didn't know where they were going—he learned a long time ago to just follow Cody.

"That doesn't matter! You're THIRTY-SEVEN—"

"Did you have to announce that to the whole camp, Cody, dear? You've got quite a set of lungs—"

"YES! Everyone needs to know what a tankrobber you are. That is still a thirteen-year difference! That's older than I AM!"

"Not in six months, then you'll be thirteen."

"You will also be thirty-eight by then!"

"You remembered my life day! How thoughtful, Cody. I always look forward to your gifts."

Cody's stomps sent mud everywhere—fine, he'd given up. He was going to have to spend half a day when this campaign was finally over just to get the gunk out of his armor. Maybe he'll make Rex do it—just to keep the Captain from exchanging his stupid faces with Kenobi.

"Of course I remember! How do you think I remembered to get you those gifts?! By the way, don't look forward to them anymore. You're not getting any gifts from me this year, Kenobi! Or any other year! Not after what you've done."

"Besmirched Rex's good honor?"

"Watch it..."

If it wasn't for the blue sparkle in the Jedi's eyes shining against his back, Cody could have ALMOST believed the put-on sadness in the man's voice, "Don't worry, I'm truly wounded about the gifts. It's dreadfully disappointing, Cody. Oh well, Rex will probably give me something twice as big and thoughtful."

Over his shoulder, the Commander glanced, saw the too-pleased smirk, and was once again tempted to risk an extended vacation in the Guard's stockades; he could use the break, and he'd kill for a demotion.

"Maybe he'll get you something for that greying beard of yours," Cody growled.

"Oh, I doubt that... severely."

Something in the tone made Cody stop with only one leg up the makeshift steps, turn to Kenobi and ask with squinted eyes, "Why...?"

Far too pleased with himself and still gentled, Kenobi said, "I know for a fact that Rex is quite fond of grey hair."

Stunned, at last, Cody was left behind when Kenobi lifted the hem of his robes and ascended the steps ahead of him.

"I should have become a nursery Clone."

A few noted headcanons after the fact: — 1.1. Vod/Verd'ika ask another Clone to be their Ori'vod, an Ori'vod cannot ask. — 1.2. Age difference between Clones don't really matter for the Vod/Verd'ika and Ori'vod dynamic. It is about mentorship and kind of, "I take responsibility for this one." For Cody, it is, "I will murder my Jedi for this one." — 1.3. Cody got asked by A LOT of brothers and turned them down, hopeful for only one to ask him. Rex was stupid, didn't think he'd have a chance. It was Fox who corrected him. — 1.4. There is a special infliction when the Clones say Vod/Verd'ika or Ori'vod. The infliction signifies the Capitalized version, which is entirely unique to the Clones. It wasn't something they learned from their rare Mandalorian trainers. They made it up on their own, likely after observing how the older Alpha-class Clones mentored the younger Alphas. — 2. All Clones are on the executive dysfunction scale, aka, ADHD. Cody suffers from his own brand of rejection sensitivity. — 3.1. Clones love to state their age (chronological vs developmental) between whatever is convenient for them. Make a natborn uncomfortable? "I'm twelve." Someone tries to tell them they can't do something, "I'm twenty-four!" — 3.2. Yes, the HALF is VERY important to a Clone. — 4. "Stupid Face" is Clonese for someone having an intimate interest in someone or just any interest. Cody certainly had his own stupid face as he impatiently waited for Rex to ask him to be his Ori'vod. I need to write up my origins for where Cody's "Jedi Ginger Bastard" comes from.

#commander cody #captain rex #obi wan kenobi #sw tcw #obirex #// cody hates this #// he hates everything about this #// cody took the part about protecting your vod'ika to a whole new and notorious level #// for such an anxious man #// he sure does think of many and quite creative ways to dispose of a jedi's remains #// as for how to dispatch the man #// he sticks with the classics #// just you wait until he finds his shotguns #kilt's writing #kilt's headcanons #bucket's clone headcanons #bucket's writing

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zargsnake · 1 year

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Through a Blackened Mirror

Chapter 5: The Prince

Word Count: 7589 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

* * *

“Now the hundred years had just ended, and the day on which Brier Rose was to wake up again had arrived. When the prince approached the brier hedge, he found nothing but beautiful flowers that opened of their own accord, let him through, and then closed again like a hedge. In the castle courtyard he saw the horses and the spotted hunting dogs lying asleep. The pigeons were perched on the roof and had tucked their heads beneath their wings. When he entered the palace, the flies were sleeping on the wall, the cook in the kitchen was still holding his hand as if he wanted to grab the kitchen boy, and the maid was sitting in front of the black chicken that she was about to pluck. As the prince continued walking, he saw the entire court lying asleep in the hall with the king and queen by the throne. Then he moved on, and everything was so quiet that he could hear himself breathe.”

-- “Brier Rose,” translated by Jack Snipes

* * *

Obi-Wan hurries into the library. “Master Nu!” He bows deeply.

“Ah, young Kenobi.” Jocasta turns from reshelving a holocron about Serenno. She knows who checked it out, and it makes her feel nervous; reading about it only makes him sadder. She nods at the frantic Padawan. “How can I h–”

Obi-Wan gesticulates wildly as he launches into his request. “Yesterday morning my Master Qui-Gon told me he sensed a most curious disturbance in the Force, as though a great power had fallen into the grasp of the Dark Side. He requested me to meditate on this and I did. And I just woke from a dream that I think was important! But I need your help to identity the face that appeared to me!”

“Peace, peace. Have you told your Master yet?”

“No! He’s still asleep! And I wanted to make sure I wasn’t on some wild bantha-chase before I bothered him. I am so glad that the library is open!”

“Yes, we are always open by 5 am.”

“Amazing!” The young man elegantly clears his throat.

“Master Nu, what sort of alien has brown scales, black hair, and red eyes?”

“Take a seat, my lad; let me open a program to help us.” She wakes up a screen on one of the tables. Fortunately, no one else is at the library this early, so she can give Obi-Wan her full attention. “Could it have been a Northern Trandoshan?” She shows a picture of the mild-mannered Senator of Trandosha.

“No, it didn’t have a snout.”

“A Weequay?” She shows a picture of a somewhat-famous pirate.

Obi-Wan is disgusted. “No. The face I saw didn’t look like a skull. It even had something akin to beauty.”

“Perhaps a Vodran?” She shows a HoloNet hero.

“No, it didn’t have any horns.”

“A Bothan?” She shows a very boring chartered accountant.

“No, its hair was like this.” He draws a vampiric hairline across his face.

“Hm.” She taps her fingers on the table.

Obi-Wan bounces his knee up and down ferociously.

“A Grinanin.” She shows a picture of an underwear model; the picture is cropped to just her face, though.

Obi-Wan almost falls off his chair. “That’s it!!”

Jocasta thinks, Of course it is. Boys and Grinanins. Is this really the type of dream I want to know about?

“Very good, Kenobi. The only trouble is that Grinanins have blue, purple, or pink eyes.”

Obi-Wan strokes his chin. “Not if they’re Sith.”

“Sith?” Jocasta purses her lips. “But the Sith have been gone for a thousand years.”

“Yes... But…” He looks up at the shelves. The morning light is just beginning to pour through the windows. “Their holos remain. Master Nu, where was the Sith library?”

“Kenobi, this is hardly appropriate. The Sith library was a place of great evil.”

“I know,” he says solemnly, “And I do not ask lightly, trust me. But Master Qui-Gon needs my help, and I think I am on the right path.”

Jocasta sighs and speaks softly, even though no one is nearby. Obi-Wan leans in conspiratorially.

“The Sith library -- which may or may not have been completely destroyed long ago -- was on the planet Huntt’awn in the distant Sinmeerin sector, the coldest and furthest reaches of the Outer Rim. It is far beyond the long arm of the Republic. If you want to go there, you must have a very, very good reason.”

Obi-Wan nods. His voice is, impossibly, even more solemn than it was before.

“Where is the Sith section of our library?”

“It is the one closest to the window. After all, it is the darkness that most requires the light.”

Obi-Wan nods again.

“I shall be right back.”

He stands up and she grabs the hood of his robe.

“Wait one minute, young man. That section is off-limits to Padawans. You may go under supervision of your Master.”

Obi-Wan tugs his robe from her hand and scowls.

“But Master, I’m not a child. I am twenty years old.”

“Age has nothing to do with it. The temptations of the Dark Side are too great for anyone who has not undergone the trials.”

“I am pure of heart. I swear!”

“The decision is not mine, Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan thinks, It most certainly is!

He looks up at the ceiling, barely containing his irritation, then looks down at her with an expression that he clearly believes is a smile. “Yes, Master Nu!” He bows quickly. “I shall be right back!”

He dashes off, his robes flying behind him.

* * *

Obi-Wan knocks on Qui-Gon’s door, but he cannot wait and opens it. He calls, in a loud whisper, “Master!”

“Hnngh?”

The boy’s presence in the Force wakes Qui-Gon up more than the noise does. He looks at him blearily.

“Um -- sorry Master! But this is urgent!” He enters the dark room and shuts the door behind him. “I had a vision in my dream. I think I know something about the great power which you sensed yesterday.”

Qui-Gon sits up. Obi-Wan feels such affection for the great, barrel-chested knight. He also feels guilty for disturbing him, but Qui-Gon shows no sign of irritation, and Obi-Wan does not expect it from him. Very few people have ever been angry at Obi-Wan.

“Yes?”

Obi-Wan thinks, I will never be as great as he is.

“I saw the face of a Grinanin woman with red eyes. She fizzled out from reality into a holo. I believe this was more than a dream. I think it was a message from the Force, a result of my meditations on the subject.”

“What do you think it means, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon stands up from the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and he turns the light on.

“Grinanins do not have red eyes, but Sith do. She might be a great Sith from the past who left a message on a holocron.”

Qui-Gon goes to the sink to brush his teeth. Obi-Wan follows him.

“A very wise interpretation, my Padawan! Excuse me.”

He shuts the bathroom door in his student’s face.

Obi-Wan is a little embarrassed, but he is too proud and eager to be that embarrassed. He continues speaking to the bathroom door. “Anyway, I thought I might look through the Sith section of the library to see if I can find more information on her. I am not sure how a holocron could be a source of power. It must contain some very important information!”

“Perhaps…”

“Maybe she was a spy. Maybe she figured out some way to--to detect Force-sensitive children, even younger than we can -- or to discover a Jedi’s weakness -- or to invade the Temple! But she died before she could enact her plan. But now it has fallen into the hands of some rapscallion!”

“Mm-hm.”

“The trouble is, I can’t get into the Sith section of the library, since I am only a Padawan. So that’s why I came–”

“Grinanin, you said?”

“Yes, Master!”

Obi-Wan hears the toilet flush, and Qui-Gon opens the door.

“Darth Zaster.”

“What’s a disaster, Master?”

Obi-Wan is quietly amused by the rhyme. Qui-Gon washes his hands in the sink.

“No, Darth Zaster. ‘Darth’ is a Sith title. And ‘Zaster’ is her name. She was a Grinanin Oracle from two millenia ago -- one of the greatest Oracles who ever lived. She made two hundred and nine prophecies, and two hundred and five of them have come true. Not a single one was false.”

“Oh!”

“Almost all of them foretold some terrible tragedy.”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan picks up a shiny object on Qui-Gon’s desk. It snaps around his finger. “Oh -- um –”

“Legend states that when she died, her master sealed the midichlorians of her spirit away in a holocron.”

Obi-Wan gasps. “Just like my vision!”

“Exactly.”

“But if her midichlorians are in a holo -- could they be accessed? Could she be … awoken from the dead?!”

Qui-Gon takes a pause that drives Obi-Wan mad. “That was her master’s intention. However, only a Sith can open a Sith holocron. Just as only a Jedi can open a Jedi holocron.”

“And there are no Sith!”

“Yes. So there is some comfort there. If an agent of the Dark Side has gotten ahold of this spirit of a long-dead Sith, they would still have a very difficult time awakening her.”

“Difficult? Or impossible?”

“Difficult. Not impossible.”

“Really?!”

“Think of your training, Obi-Wan. Have non-Jedi ever been able to open Jedi holocrons?”

Obi-Wan thinks carefully. “Yes. But very rarely.”

Qui-Gon taps his nose. “Thus, for the Sith. Remember, the Jedi are stronger than the Sith. Whatever weaknesses we have -- rare as they are -- the Sith have them too, and more.”

Obi-Wan chuckles. “I never thought I’d find myself wishing the Sith were better at something, even holo security.”

Qui-Gon puts a hand on his Padawan’s shoulder. “You did very well, Obi-Wan. I am proud of you. Your meditation brought us a vision that brings us closer to the truth.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Let us go to the Sith section of the library and see what more we can find on Zaster.”

He starts to head out the door.

“Uh -- Master -- a little help?”

Obi-Wan holds out his finger where the trap is still attached.

With a hearty chuckle, Qui-Gon frees his Padawan’s finger with a wave of his hand. “Don’t be so nosy, Obi-Wan.”

“Yes, Master.”

* * *

Following their research in the Jedi library, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon decide to risk visiting the Sith library on Huntt’awn. All clues indicate that if Zaster’s holo was kept anywhere, it was there. Perhaps they can find a hint as to where the Dark Side agent has taken her. Qui-Gon flies the ship and Obi-Wan sits in the co-pilot’s chair.

Obi-Wan says, “I read some of those prophecies of hers. Very disturbing…”

“Yes. Zaster is an object of fascination among us prophecy-heads. I am glad that you were the one who beheld her in a vision. If I saw her out of the blue, I might have become entirely too diverted.”

Obi-Wan has a hard time imagining Qui-Gon getting excited about anything.

“What is the worst thing she ever predicted?”

“She prophesized the rise of the Zygerrian slave empire. And unlike her more specific prophecies, there was very little the Jedi could do about it. There were just too many complex, inevitable agencies at work. So the slaver’s empire existed for hundreds of years, before we finally stamped it out. Not very long ago, I might add.”

Obi-Wan mumbles “hmm” sadly. He feels glad to not exist at the same time as slavery. He wonders if he would have been able to do something to stop it if he had been there; even “complex, inevitable agencies” can be tamed if one is wise enough.

“What is a prophecy that we were able to stop?” Obi-Wan asks.

“Oh, you cannot stop what has been prophesized from occurring. But sometimes you can do something about it. She foresaw the environmental collapse of Rooshan, which happened just three hundred years ago. The signs which she alluded to lined up in the nick of time, and marked Rooshan as the subject of her prophecy. On her word, the Jedi were able to convince the Rooshanians to give up their doomed efforts of salvaging their atmosphere and to evacuate their homeworld instead. Rooshan is a wasteland now, but the Rooshanians live on, albeit in diaspora.”

“That is a tragedy.”

“Chin up, Obi-Wan. Four billion lives were saved.”

“Are you completely sure that there was nothing that could have been done about Rooshan’s atmosphere?”

“Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I am never completely sure of anything. Perhaps there was some hope for their atmosphere after all. But the Jedi of the time decided that hope was not enough.”

“Did she have any connection to Rooshan? How could she have possibly known about it, especially since it happened over a thousand years after her death?”

“It’s true that Oracles speak more frequently and accurately about familiar things. But the Force connects all things, Padawan, across all time. The Force was very strong with her.”

“You say that not a single one of her prophecies was ever false?”

“Not a one. But there are four left.” He smiles at him. “It is never too late to fail.”

“What are her four remaining prophecies?”

“Oh, just as miserable as the rest of them. Let’s see... ‘A moon is not a moon. There are a thousand non-believers and one believer. The non-believers will perish, and only the believer will survive.’ That’s the first one.”

“Believe in what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Sorry, Master.”

“It’s alright. The second one is, ‘He will be the liar’s only hope. He will run from his post. He will not be believed. The truthseeker will break him. He will outlive his home. The other five will die together, but he will die alone.’”

Obi-Wan nods. He regrets asking -- besides how miserable it is, he has no taste for anything so cryptic, even though this stuff is his master’s hobby.

“Mmhm. The third one is, ‘The fake woman descends a ramp. She dies in the first war. The arrogant man does not trip the beast. He dies in the second war. The fainting woman drops a hundred bombs. She dies in the third war. Heed their deaths: do not love anyone who is brave during a war.’”

Obi-Wan rests his gloomy chin on his hand.

“This Zaster was a real piece of work.”

“Oh yes. And the final one is, ‘These sons of bitches are obsessed with light. They make every fucking holiday about it. They put it in their fucking clothes. I can’t fucking stand them.’”

Obi-Wan stares at his serene master in shock.

“‘These unnatural materialists fill their lovely dark with ugly light, and -- lucky for you, my friend -- that wasted effort drains a lot of power. So greedy are they for their electricity, they will build a great power generator within their own palace. So voraciously do they crave that energy, they will dig their great reactor shafts deep, deep into the earth, to a place where no one goes, a place that is dark and safe. There you will find dusty, abandoned spider-droids which were given up for dead. They shall not be dead. They shall bend to your will. You shall not be dead either, my friend. Not yet. It shall not be the end for you, not on that light-obsessed hell-planet. It shall be only the beginning. You will live, my friend, you will live.’”

“That’s her final prophecy?”

“It certainly has a different tone, doesn’t it? Those are the ravings she screamed as she lay dying.”

“And you had that all off the top of your head?”

“Yes, I did. All her other prophecies have come true. It is logical to listen to them.”

“But that prophecy is clearly lunacy.”

“Perhaps...or perhaps, one day, I will find myself on the bottom of a reactor shaft in a power generator within a palace. And if so, I will know to look for the spider-droids.”

Obi-Wan shakes his head.

“This is such nonsense.”

“We can only hope so. If Zaster is only capable of nonsense, then -- even if the most wicked person in the universe gets ahold of her -- she will be useless to them.”

Obi-Wan nods at this wisdom, and then an odd thought occurs to him.

“Such disdain for light is particularly illogical coming from a Grinanin. Grinanins are cold-blooded. Without sunlight, they have no energy of their own.”

“Very good, Obi-Wan. When we get back to the Temple, read up on the Apollonian Secession. One of the cleverer Sith tricks was their cosmic blankets, which would darken the suns over planets and render cold-blooded populations lethargic and compliant. Once Jedi agents pierced these blankets, billions of people awoke in mighty unison to their true selves. The Grinanins were, in fact, one of the first people to rebel against their Sith overlords. If Zaster had lived only a few more decades, we would have had her for ourselves. Think of the happy prophecies she might have made, if only we could have rescued her from evil. Think of how much greater we would be now.”

Obi-Wan does not precisely obey these directions. He thinks about the intricacies of biology, astronomy, and history that his master described. His stomach churns at the idea of intentionally darkening suns, and his heart thrills with pride for the Light Side’s ancient triumph. He tries but fails to long entertain his master’s happier alternate universe. Obi-Wan knows the past is set in stone, and it is pointless to fuss about it.

* * *

That feeling again, that blundering clumsiness, oh Maul… She waits it out, then she sees him sitting there. Her boy.

“Hey,” he says, exhausted as always.

“Hey.”

“You have a ... new outfit,” he says weakly.

“Oh yes. I do. Must be a, uh, seasonal update in the programming.”

“Huh... I liked your old one better, to be frank.”

She breathes out of her nose in amusement. Of course he would insult her before -- apologizing, or whatever. Palpatine would just flatter, Maul does not --

She looks away from the handsome halfbreed to the thing between them. It’s a long, low freezerbox. The text of the brand logo is in spiky Grinanin.

They are outdoors, in the night. The world is brighter and greener than Iridonia, and ought to be even more familiar to her: she was born here, after all. But they are surrounded by strange, quietly humming metallic structures. She sees a great wheel in the distance, 200 feet tall, and what looks like painted steeds impaled on golden poles. One thing at a time, she thinks, a bit dizzy.

“So what is this?” She points at the freezer.

“Okay, so -- I put your stone-body in the Iridonian Temple -- just in case you ever change your mind -- then I convinced my master to take us to your homeworld, so I could find a more -- relevant body for you. It’s been three months. I didn’t want to wake you until I found the best one I could. Here she is.”

He opens the freezer. On a bed of shredded ice lies a corpse -- another eighteen year old Grinanin, and very pretty -- wearing a finely-made, tan-colored Sith student’s robe, a size or two too big. She has a little button nose, big eyes, dollish lips, and brown scales of almost the same color as her own, if a little rounder in shape. In some ways, she is prettier than Dreela. Certainly she is sweeter. Dreela rolls down the corpse’s sleeve and sees a tattoo of a snake around her wrist.

“You gave her my tattoo.”

“You’re not you without it. I painted it on the first body, too, if you had bothered to notice.”

“You also gave that one horns and teeny boobs.”

She prods the corpse’s boobs. Acceptable.

“Look, I was young and foolish,” he responds. “Anyway, horns are fun; you can gore people with them. And store cheese on them to eat for later.”

Dreela laughs. It sounds so sad to Maul. Her state of being must be getting so hard for her. He doesn’t blame her at all for being so bitter and tragic. But this will make things different.

Dreela lifts the corpse’s eyelids and sees her irises are light purple.

“I’m sure they’ll turn red once you, a Sith, occupy them,” Maul assures her.

“Is this on Sidious’ advice? Or was this your own idea?”

“I asked him how to recreate a dead body, how to create a body from air, you know, all this stuff. He didn’t have anything useful to say. This is all my own idea.”

“And how will you get me in her?”

“Same as before. The Nightsister stuff.”

Dreela sighs.

“It works on corpses too. Your presence would even make her blood flow again. Do you want to see?”

“No. As little of that as possible, please.”

Maul shuts the freezer and takes her hand with the Force.

“This is the only way, girl.”

Dreela flinches at his touch.

“What is it? Why do you shudder? Do you really hate me now?”

Dreela thinks, Principles are for Jedi. He is good to me. He is still my friend.

“No, I don’t hate you, it’s just…”

Maul smirks. “Has the gay rubbed off? You can’t stand the touch of men now? Homophobic science has been onto something this whole time?”

Dreela shakes her head and holds his hand tighter. “No... I wouldn’t know what to do with a girl.”

“On that, we are alike.”

Dreela feels a sob rise from her chest. Her tears fizzle on the holo. They hurt like little needles. She forgot water did that to her in this inferior form.

“I beg you, Dreela, baby, darling, sugar to my tea, kyber to my saber, darkness to my night, please, just try it, just one hour. I can put you back if you don’t like it.”

Dreela looks at him through that horrible blue haze. She wants to see his redness, so badly. And that body really did look very good. It would be fun to wear Maul’s clothes too; she always wanted to.

“What would we do for an hour? I love you, but the sex is bad. Did you make a lightsaber for me? We could always spar. I miss sparring.”

“No, I haven’t made a lightsaber for you. I have something better.” He lets go of her hand and flips backwards onto his feet. He grabs a big red switch on a pole and throws it down. With a loud whir, the amusement park all around them comes to life -- the Ferris wheel and carousel turn, strings of warm electric lights burn brightly, rollercoasters as white as bone are illuminated against the stars.

“Wh-what is this?!!”

“You didn’t have amusement parks in the Year of Our Fate 7548?”

“No?”

“It’s fun! Uh -- basically, these machines throw you around and get you scared.”

“OoOOoh! So non-Sith have fun getting scared too?”

“Nowadays -- yeah.”

She looks her poor friend in the eyes.

“Yes.”

“Yes -- you’ll do it?”

“You’ll do it, babe, I’ll just lie there.”

“You won’t regret it.”

He sets them up for the ritual. She sees, but does not feel, his hand on her forehead; she hears him muttering those chilling words, the green smoke pouring from his eyes and ears and mouth, swirling up into the already greenish atmosphere of Grinanin.

The feeling of this magic is different from the feeling of waking up from her holo, whether by Maul’s clumsy effort or Sidious’ skill.

While using the Force as a Sith connects one to everything around you, opens you up to the vastness of space, this magic feels like curling up into someone’s lap -- Maul’s bony, muscular lap -- the particularities of his familiar scent -- they have so much in common, their faith, their vanity, their sense of humor, and, most of all, their affection for one another.

She opens her eyes.

“I’M COLD!!! AAUUUGGHHH!!!”

She flails around in the ice. Maul lifts her out and spins on his heels with her in his arms.

“It’s COLD and I’m all WET! YOU BASTARD, I’M COLD-BLOODED!!!”

Maul carries her over to some pristinely-maintained shrubbery and sets it alight with his saber. He puts her on her feet and she wobbles over to the fires, arm around his waist.

“How does it feel, beside how co--”

She responds in a demonic shriek: “IT’S FUCKING COLD, MY LORD DARTH MAUL, PRINCE OF EVIL.”

He shuts up. They stand still for many tense, quavering minutes. She gazes at the fire in a stupor, blinking slowly, beholding her beautiful friend in only her peripheral vision. Once she feels a little energy return to her brain, she turns to look at him, straight on, for the first time. Of course he is already staring at her. The love in his eyes is ferocious. She reaches out and touches his flushed, hardened face. Finally she speaks, in a soft, kind voice.

“It feels good.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. A little tall, and a little weak of the muscle. But good.”

“I’m afraid I couldn’t find someone with a Sith level of physical training who was also beautiful.”

“I can fix the weakness. I like working out.”

“Give me a hug,” he says. She hugs him, then again, tighter, holding the back of his head. He buries his face in her neck and she feels his breath flutter between her scales.

This is my first hug ever, he thinks. I see why people go to war for this kind of thing. “Did I deliver?” he mumbles into her neck.

She feels like she could cry, and she encourages the feeling -- that deep sensation of all her body parts working together to make tears, her chest and tummy and face and throat. It is more than Sidious could provide. Her tears are hot.

“Yes.”

Maul holds her face. “Your eyes are red as blood. Lord Darth Zaster, princess of the Sith.”

Dreela smiles with pure happiness. “Wonderful. But don’t I look strange to you?”

Maul shakes his head. “I can tell it’s you. You move your muscles in the same way. We are not our crude bodies. We are the dark secret within them.”

“Thank you, Maul.” She holds him again and presses her face to his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Dreela.” He laughs, light-headed and nervous. “I’m so glad I won’t have to bleed like a pig just to see you.”

“Me too. Where -- where is my holo?”

“Here.” He picks it up off the floor and gives it to her. It has turned off, even the glow of its letters. She puts it in her sleeve pocket. It fits well.

“Now that I’m out, I don’t want to go back in.”

“Good.”

“But where will I stay?”

“I furnished a cave for you in the woods. It’s not much, I must admit, but it’s all yours. Do you want to see it?”

Dreela shakes her head. “Later, later. I’m sure it’s fine. Now, you must scare me on these machines.”

“Yes, sister.”

He sets her up on the carousel and fastens the belt around her waist. He starts the machine, runs back to her, and holds her firmly as she shrieks with surprise. Layers of mysterious voices occasionally pile up on top of hers at her most uncontrolled moments, but only to scream and laugh. Maul takes her on every kiddie coaster and relaxing tunnel, stopping between each ride to warm her at another fire, until hardly any of the park’s landscaping remains.

* * *

Zaster wakes up -- all on her own -- not from her holo prison -- but from deep sleep. Sleep is unnatural to Sith, but this body has not been trained to fall into their holy meditative state, so she’ll just have to tolerate sleep until she can retrain herself, it shouldn’t be that hard -- or maybe... maybe she’ll keep sleep -- she hasn’t slept in two years -- well, two thousand-two years -- she put it away with her childhood -- but now that she’s done it again -- it felt really good, to lose control so completely, to be so relaxed and far away -- why not sleep? Her master is gone, no one is holding her accountable, she doesn’t have to do anything for anyone -- she stretches out -- she’s in a hammock between two stalagmites, wrapped in a soft fleece blanket -- how did she get here? Oh, she remembers, she was so tired from the rides, Maul carried her here and tucked her in, and then he left... She turns her head, she feels her bones creak -- what an awful feeling, but surely it will go away, it’s probably a consequence of sleep -- she sees sunlight passing through the vines which obscure the entrance to the cave -- she feels her stomach rumble -- she looks around the cave, she is only in the entrance area, there are a couple tunnels behind her -- in front of her, Maul put a red shag circular rug, on which he stacked a lot of food he stole from the amusement park -- she pigged out last night, her first food since death, but the candy and popcorn do not look that appealing to her right now -- she sees he dragged the freezerbox here, it is plugged into a rechargeable battery which is at 73% -- she rolls out of bed and opens it, he killed a grin-deer and put it in there for her to eat -- good job hunting, bitch, but she’s not going to eat this raw, and she doesn’t know how to cook it -- she has a sudden creeping fear that she’s in way over her head, and so is her young caretaker -- if she had a lightsaber, she could skin it and cut it with that, and cook it and make a fire -- he should have left his lightsaber! If he really loved her, he would’ve -- ugh, whatever -- she sees he’s also put a mirror in here -- she squints in the dimness and sees that stranger’s face in it, and feels an intense nervousness and sadness that she really, really hoped wouldn’t happen -- regret -- when he comes back, she’ll ask him to put her back, she can’t do this -- no, she can, she will, this is a better life -- her stomach rumbles again, she grumpily eats some of the popcorn -- what a miserable state!

So, what else is here -- a nice wooden chest, full of clothes -- well, they’re alright, they must be the modern Grinanin fashion -- a tiny portable stove, three silver pots and a set of utensils, a barrel of water, a crate of wine bottles, a priceless Sith translation plugin with four trashy novels: "Loving Wookiees," "The Jedi who Left the Order for Me (Based on a True Story)," "Sex Droid," and "Among the Clouds" -- a pack of hallucinogenic death sticks, a blaster -- thank hell for that, she was afraid he left her unarmed -- and a bag of gold coins and a holo-map to the nearest town. It’s an hour’s walk. Is there really nothing better to eat? No caf? Dammit, Maul!

She draws back the vines at the cave entrance and looks around. The woods are deep and cold. There are surely mushrooms or something out there. But she doesn’t want to leave -- it isn’t warm in here, but it’s even colder out there.

She wraps herself in the blanket, shivering; she fills a bowl with water and chocolate candies and sets it on the stove to make hot chocolate. She picks up the Wookiee book and flips through it to the nasty parts. She opens one of the wines, dumps a splash of it into the hot chocolate, and curls up with her bowl and book on her hammock. She finishes the drink and, feeling a little better and warmer, falls asleep again.

She wakes up thirty minutes later, staggers out of bed and opens the freezerbox again. No eggs? No vegetables? Just a carcass? She stabs it with a knife and cold blood comes out -- disgusting -- how do you cut it, how do you cook it? -- She remembers that Zabraks are carnivores and love raw meat. Stupid Maul! Doesn’t he know that no one else can live like that?! -- Maybe not. He is so innocent.

She must go to town to buy more food. Will they accept these gold coins? Wait...She will have no idea what they are saying! She has been speaking this whole time in the ancient frozen language of the Sith, a language that can only be passed in direct line from Master to student -- no one else is going to know it!! For every other language, it has been 2000 years!!

She will just have to bear it... How will she get by without a translator and a guide?

What if someone recognizes this Grinanin stranger’s face?

Where is Maul?

Come on! I have a BODY! I am ALIVE! I’m not trapped in ANYTHING! I fear NOTHING!

Dressed and armed, she walks out and starts to head to town -- nervously, she stops and looks back at the cave entrance -- she sees something glinting behind the vines, something in a very tiny cave to the right side of her own -- she moves the vines and sees a bright red speeder, brand new -- she pulls it out with the Force and looks at it, it’s beautiful, like a big red spike with a luxurious chair -- she sits in it, it has that new speeder smell -- she revs it up -- on the speeder, she makes it to town in only ten minutes -- she gets her first look at civilization in the Republic and feels sick to her stomach, where is the red flag of the Sith Empire? -- she reminds herself that she is ALIVE, and that should be, must be, can only be enough -- she pretends to be deaf, she gets a big breakfast from a diner by pointing and nodding, she fills her aching stomach with their hot food -- she pays with one gold coin and gets a strange expression and a lot of change back -- dammit, Maul -- she needs him to explain what all these coins mean before she buys anything else -- but she doesn’t need anything else now -- she returns to her cave, taking the most direct route since she is nervous, and no one is on her tail, as far as she can tell -- she smokes one of the hallucinogens, lies in her cot and sees all kinds of crazy shit, it whiles away her time as she waits... He doesn’t show up all day, she drives back to her diner and gets a gigantic dinner and saves the leftovers in a box which she stores in the freezer on top of the grin-deer. Battery at 65%.

Nothing happens the next day either, but she stays in the cave almost all day and gets into more of a routine. She reads her books and sleeps, mostly, and warms up leftovers, and enjoys the fairground food, and wonders what to do with her grin-deer carcass. And thinks. What should she do now? She drives around and finds a pond with a waterfall to take a bath in. The water is warm -- this is Grinanin, after all, her people evolved here -- two thousand years later, and she is still suited for this world. She wishes she could shed her skin again, just for the fun of it, but her body doesn’t need to yet.

She returns from her bath and smokes another stick... She hallucinates about the bath, and about her bath before that, the one under the gaze of that powerful Sith Lord -- high on the drug, she nearly loses her breath thinking of him, his exhilarating strength in the Force that made her holo project herself so vividly, in her own familiar body, shorter and stronger than this one -- much stronger -- tears pour from her eyes, remembering his power all around her like a castle -- she hallucinates Sidious and his body mixing with hers -- she hallucinates her Master Sunke, her Shell, making love to her, kissing and holding her, and teaching her everything he knows about the Force, and she cries harder -- she remembers how her greatest prophecies came to her mind while she was in her happiest place, on his lap, his arms around her -- she misses him -- how could he go to all this trouble to save her, and not save himself? This selflessness does not become a Sith... And now she must go on without him... Damn the Jedi, for ripping them apart -- she hallucinates her revenge against them, blowing up New Life Star again and again, stabbing her poisoners with her lightsaber, those supposed doctors who were actually murderers -- the smiling face of the Jedi doctor who had captured her -- a halfbreed of course, as all the worst people are, a Togrutan-human abomination -- he chained her up and poisoned her with a colony of parasites -- and released her back to the Sith, to infect the others -- her own sisters had to isolate her -- she couldn’t touch anyone, she could only see them through windows, as her body grew sicker and sicker, and the parasites inside became stronger, threatening to outsmart their prison walls and poison everyone she loved -- until her sisters gave up hope and commanded her to swallow a pill to kill herself -- she obeyed them, but took another pill too, to drift into death in her sleep -- so that, as she was unconscious, her master could transfer her into the holo -- he loved her body, HER body -- she misses him -- she has defiled herself -- Maul has defiled her, and disobeyed her master’s wishes -- she hallucinates running Maul through with her lightsaber, she giggles -- she can’t get her laugh right in this strange body -- her voice box is shaped differently, she can get a lot of her voice to sound how it was, but not her laugh -- she hallucinates Sunke shaking hands with Sidious, and handing her holo to him -- she acts it out with the shadows of her hands on the cave wall, she does voices for them -- Sunke placing all his trust in Sidious, and Sidious swearing to fulfill the great plan -- Sunke was a mighty Force wielder, one of the mightiest -- but he was not as strong as Sidious is.

She falls asleep in the throes of the hallucination, all the images spinning into nonsense and chaos, then stillness. As she lies there in the complete darkness, a blue light passes through the curtain of vines -- the antenna of a probe droid.

* * *

Maul opens one eye and sees Sidious has finally left -- a chance, yes! -- it has been nearly a week!! He bends up and unties his feet from the Temple ceiling; he flips around in the air and lands on his hands and feet. He sneaks to the backdoor, but he is suddenly lifted up with the Force and tied upside-down to the ceiling once more.

Maul groans. “Master, this training has outlived its usefulness.”

Sidious sits in shadows in the corner of the room. “This training is over when I say it’s over.”

“I’m learning nothing new.”

“Hardly any lessons are new. Most are old. Do you have somewhere else to be?”

Maul balls his fists and grits his teeth.

We have no way to communicate. She could have been eaten by grin-bears. Or discovered by locals. She could have run out of wine.

“...Yes.”

“You?” Sidious laughs. “Where?”

“...I met someone.”

“Oho! Someone you care for?”

“A native lad. Gams to die for. Nice ass. Massive wang.”

“You arranged a date with him?”

“Oh yes, and I’m already very late.”

“Apprentice -- you are a secret. No one can know of you. Jedi spies and traitors are everywhere. You may have already been duped by one.”

“He’s only a boy.”

“No one.”

“You must let me go, then. He already knows about me. I’ll bring back his head for you to secure the leak.”

“Barbaric. Let him instead think you were only a dream. Every murder brings you closer to getting caught, and to endangering the secret of all the remaining Sith and our way of life.”

“I shall not get caught.”

“You shall have your fun with him before you kill him?”

“Naturally.”

Sidious sighs. “When I handpicked my apprentice from all the Force-sensitive babies in the galaxy, too young for the Jedi to detect and take for themselves -- from all the most powerful races, the proudest peoples -- and when I chose the youngling with the purest, rawest wellspring of power, just one from among thousands of wriggling newborns -- I had no idea I was picking a faggot.”

Maul dramatically clutches his heart and bends up so that his head is between his knees. “Oh, do mind my fragile faggot feelings, Master! Your words are like arrows to my sensitive faggot heart!”

“Why do I get the feeling that you will be the first Sith in a thousand years who gives away our existence?”

Maul unbends and lets his arms hang down below him, blood rushing back to his head and tired fingers. Turning right-side-up so briefly only made the dizziness worse.

He thinks of Zaster and Sunke -- how could they have loved each other? How is that possible for a student and teacher? What is it like to not be hated by your teacher?

“Master, have I ever failed you in anything? Have I ever come up even an inch short on any task you have ever given me? My whole life has been at your service. You are my master. You are my life. What more must I do to prove my loyalty to you, above all else?”

Sidious smiles up at him, highly amused. Maul flatters better than even Blara -- and what is better, Sidious senses real longing in Maul’s heart, mourning for a relationship that has never existed except in Maul’s deluded mind.

“I can think of a couple things. For one, don’t lie to me.”

Maul’s brow furrows very slightly.

“I know about the Oracle. You know I know.”

Maul takes a deep breath.

“Little Dreela is no stranger to me.”

“What?”

“We have spoken. And more.”

“You...?! What have you done to her?”

“What have I done? What have you done? Taking her from her holo and placing her in a borrowed corpse?”

“I saved her.”

“You defiled her.”

“How long have you been speaking to her?”

“Almost as long as you have. She hasn’t told you?”

Maul is stunned. Then with a burst of ferocity he squirms to free himself from the bonds tying him to the ceiling. Sidious tightens them.

“You lie!!”

“My goodness. Look at you. She must have mentioned me, though. Did she not ask you to ask me how to bring back her body?”

“Where is she? What did you do?”

“Did she not tell you about the pleasures I had with her?”

Rage sears Maul from within. He throws his lightsaber at Sidious and ignites it at the last minute. Sidious deflects it easily, raises his hand and shoots Force-lightning at Maul. The boy screams, more in anger than in pain.

“Why does that bother you? Are you jealous?”

Maul screams at him as loudly as he can. “She is a true Sith! The truest Sith in the universe! And you are the most false! You selfish, cowardly human monster! I am surprised the glory of her presence didn’t render you into dust!! You are not worth a hair on her head! -- And I bet she got a lot more pleasure out of you than you got from her!”

“Are you finished?”

“Thief! I had one thing! One thing for me! You have so much! You glutton!”

The young man bends back his arm and Force-punches his master. He lands the blow, striking Sidious. His middle-aged face is thrust to the side, and Sidious grunts in pain. Maul is shocked, horrified at what he has done to his own master -- he feels so guilty, but he hides that guilt within his fury. His chest rises and falls powerfully, fearfully.

“...Yes, I am finished, Master.”

Sidious turns his head slowly to face Maul. A bruise is already forming around his eye.

“There is one more thing you can do to prove your loyalty to me above all else.”

A tear falls from Maul’s eye, down through the air, and splashes onto the ground.

“Anything, Master.”

“I chose you to be my apprentice. Not her. I do not wish for two apprentices. I am taking good care of her, as I am of you, but I cannot keep you both. The wisdom of our ancestors limited the Sith to two. You and I are the true two. You must kill her.”

“I can put her back in the holo. We can put her back in the library. There is no need to kill her.”

“Oh, but there is. When I found her, starving and half-mad in the cave where you left her, I killed the cursed body you made for her straight away, and put her back in her holo. Then I strengthened the power of the holo with my own power, until I had manipulated the midichlorians inside of it into her true, proper body. I emptied the holo. We threw it away.”

“You mean … she is alive? In her own body?”

“She begged me for help. I could not deny her.”

“You brought her back to life just so I could kill her?”

“Hm, well, when you put it that way, it does seem a little cruel.”

“Just put her back in the holo. Her master could do that, and you are stronger than he was.”

“Perhaps I am, but I do not have the skill. Master Sunke studied that art for years.”

“Let us go back to the library. All Sunke’s notes are there, just beside where I found Zaster. If you don’t want to read them, then I will.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to.”

Maul is silent.

“There is only one position open. You must fight for it.”

“She doesn’t have a lightsaber.”

Sidious laughs. “Oh, she does. She does.”

“...Yes, Master. I will fight her and kill her. For you.”

Sidious holds up his hand in the dark and twists it to read his student’s little mind. Maul may say that he will kill her, but inside, he is wondering how he will save her.

Sidious has taken measurement of them both. Zaster is stronger in the Force, and -- unknown to Maul -- a stronger warrior. Maul does not even have the will to fight. Maul is doomed. But Sidious will wait until Zaster has given him his prophecy … just in case.

#my story #my art #through a blackened mirror #cw drugs #cw homophobia #obi-wan kenobi #jocasta nu #qui-gon jinn #darth maul #darth zaster #sheev palpatine #scifi #fairytale #cw abuse #cw sex abuse

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dells-bells · 2 years

Note

Hello! Another idea snippet for you, if you'd like it (sorry, this got a bit long!):

Qui-Gon Jinn is a very patient, easy-going man. He rarely gets angry, and in those moments where he does (everyone's human, after all), he's very good at releasing it into the Force before acting, making sure that his feelings don't cloud his actions. He's only had a few exceptions where he acted before thinking, most of them from when he was still a padawan, hot-headed and overconfident.

However, there is one that's a little too recent for him feel comfortable with. Like most things in his life, it centers around Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. The pair was visiting an outer rim planet to retrieve a stolen device containing sensitive information about a certain Republic-allied city. They were supposed to get in, get the files, and get out. However, a wrench got thrown in that plan when, while split up, fifteen-year-old Obi-Wan accidently alerted a small group of bounty hunter thugs of their presence. Said thugs noticed Obi-Wan's lightsaber and immediately decided he was worth the effort of capturing--you can get a very pretty penny for a jedi. Obi-Wan fought back, but even as skilled and perceptive as he was, a boy is no match for half a dozen experienced kidnappers. Qui-Gon was alerted through their force bond just before the bounty hunters knocked the boy out (via some kinda space chloroform).

It doesn't take Qui-Gon long to find them (after all, he'd already gotten the device and was on his way back to his padawan), but what he discovers when he does turns his stomach to this day: they have Obi-Wan bound up tightly to a pole. He's barely awake and clearly delirious, and three of the thugs are striking him every so often, watching and laughing as the poor boy tries and fails in his hazy state to escape their blows. So much is pouring through the bond--fear (Obi doesn't know what's going on), anger (why won't they stop?), sadness (he didn't do anything, why are they hurting him, he didn't do anything!)--straight into Qui-Gon's heart. The bounty hunters are foolishly amused by Qui-Gon's appearance until they see the expression on his face and decide maybe they should take the kid and get out while they can.

Too late; Qui-Gon snaps. Before any of them are aware of it, they've all been knocked out (and one, the tall bounty hunter with the brass knuckles who had been punching his padawan and cackling at how he cried, has been relieved of both hands) in a surge of green light that they'll all struggle to reconcile with the hippie-looking guy who they thought just stumbled into their lair. As soon as he can, Qui-Gon frees Obi-Wan, who's still pretty drugged up, but aware enough to mumble, "Master...?" as the older jedi ever-so-gently frees his wrists from their ties.

And if Qui-Gon had been at all taken aback by the surge of emotion that overcame him as he attacked the hunters, it's nothing compared to the utter intensity of fondness that practically brings him to his knees as he lifts his sweet apprentice into his arms and tells him to rest, he's safe now, and they'll be home very soon.

BABES I AM CRYING IN THE CLUB RIGHT NOW

OH MY GOD?? THIS IS SO GOOD

qui-gon NEVER EVER losing his temper but the second he sees his boy harmed… THE GLOVES COME OFF. 🤌 god, and he’d feel so guilty afterwards too, so upset with himself for giving in to darkness, and what a struggle that would be for him to work through. remembering his hot-headed younger days and all he’d learned over his years to master that, to do better, all for it to be shattered the second he sees his padawan in harm’s way… and worst thing is, HE’D DO IT AGAIN. IN A HEARTBEAT. FOR HIS PADAWAN. oh my god the angst potential in this is 🤌 DELICIOUS 🤌

“and one, the tall bounty hunter with the brass knuckles who had been punching his padawan and cackling at how he cried, has been relieved of both hands” 🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌🤌 YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES THIS!!!!! Y E S!!!!!!!

it’s perfect. the softness with his poor abused padawan 😭 mixed with the anger and violence towards his abusers 😭 GOD.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!! it’s gonna live rent free in my head, and perhaps one day I will turn out something from it 👀

I LOVE IT SO MUCH, THANK YOU

#dells answers #obi wan kenobi #star wars #qui gon jinn #😭😭😭😭😭

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emmaofnormandy · 2 years

Text

~Obi-Wan Kenobi meets Lady Mary Tudor. (Part II)~

The rain was pouring heavily outdoors by the time Obi-Wan arrived at the English princess’s household. Though he was dressed accordingly, his old fashioned grey cape covered his head, earning him the nickname “monk” by his fellow men who brought him to his destination. The Spanish loyal to the princess’s cause were entrusted with delivering Obi-Wan safely to her household without going noticed by the king or his spies. So far everything had occurred without finding any trouble, but the Jedi had a bad feeling about that at all.

It was right before the twilight when he was straight away taken to the privy chambers of the princess where she was waiting for him. Obi-Wan was serious all along, capturing the conversation partly thanks to a device Anakin gave him which translated every language of every planet and its regions to his mother tongue and also helped him speaking that language.

He could only hope his mission would end well as he meditates throughout the long path that led him to meet his protegée at long last. The portraits of the princess’s ancestors did not impress him nor even the rich tapestries that hanged on the wall, or the decoration with the colors of the said lady’s house. In all honesty, he’d seen all that before. One could not say Obi-Wan was not prepared for his task.

The door was knocked and at long last it was opened by two men who guarded it well. Obi-Wan smelled a very pleasant scent of cinnamon mixed to roses as he stepped inside a bedchamber where it was so poorly illuminated. He masked his perplexity when noticing the lack of light in this place. But he was soon baffled by the royal figure that stood before him.

Lady Mary Tudor, or princess as her supporters address her, was sitting in what Obi-Wan thought to be a sort of couch, on top of cozy colchicums embroidered with red velvet and white pearls. She had her hair braided beneath what he knew to be a French hood (if that was the right term these Earth people used for things that covered the female hair) and the gown she was dressing matched perfectly the noble position she was born into. Dressed in purple silk with white pearls and small details embroidered in red, Obi-Wan did not need any more details to tell him this was a formidable lady, whose beauty was admirable to behold.

“So is this the knight my good friend Chapuys designed to protect me?” He heard the good lady speak out at last.

“Indeed you find me to be him, Your Highness”, Obi Wan spoke quite gallantly.

Lady Mary seemed pleased with the choice.

“Good. I pray he told you the reason why you were assigned to be by my side, although discreetly if I must say so.”

The Jedi knew he was being tested, but he knew how to play the game.

“Aye, madam. You will see that I’m experienced in such matters.”

“So I was told.” She stood and her ladies followed. Obi-Wan noticed there were no more than three with her, indicating there were few she trusted. He knew he had to work to gain her trust. “Well, we shall see that, Master Kenobi. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last.”

Lady Mary extended her hand and Obi-Wan followed the protocol by bowing and taking the hand offered to his lips. Yet, there was a moment they exchanged glances that lingered…and he could swear he saw the corners of her lips twist to a small smirk. He lowered his eyes, parting the gaze, fearful of what this meant for him.

Conceal. Don’t feel. Away with it, he repreended himself. But the moment did not go unnoticed by the princess he was now bound to serve…

***

She was irremediably intrigued by the presence of that ginger man in such a way that a fang of guilt digged it’s ways to her conscience. Mary was not expecting him to be so handsome—and even though she was well aware his station was far inferior than hers, she could not deny there was something about him so alluring.

But she had other matters to concern herself with. Primarily, she continued her studies as proposed by the new queen, Lady Katheryn Parr, whom she esteemed in spite of their religious differences. Then, she had her familial duties: Mary intended to visit her brother and her sister in order to make sure they are well. But she could not extend the visit to her father, as much as she wanted to, unless the king requested her presence.

As she planned, Mary could not help but sigh. There were moments that everything felt so difficult, that all she felt inclined to was to weep. However, long had been the time where tears rolled uninvited and sobs would not leave her sleep peacefully. Mary was no more a young lady, and one could argue about her naivety that often was so bluntly pointed by her political enemies. She knew more about that world than she’d care to admit.

Mary proceeded to move to the library, where she spent a few hours dedicating herself to the translation of one of Erasmus’s works to the English language. As she did so, she contemplated with herself his controversial role in the dispute he went through with that heretic man, responsible for why half of the continent emerged into this devilish chaos that had even reached her beloved kingdom.

But the contemplation would not be enough for Mary. She could, of course, debate it with her ladies and that would please her. Nonetheless she thought best to find more about her secretive knight, sent by the Spanish she adored so. It was almost time for supper when the red headed princess left her comfortable zone out for Obi-Wan Kenobi. She was surprised to find him in the corridors, serious semblance and eyes full of attention.

“Master Kenobi”, she said, gently. “It is time for us to eat. Would you care to join me?”

Obi-Wan, who had been formerly occupied in getting to know that strange surroundings better, had ended the day close to where his princess was, so he waited for her to leave the library, content in having the shadows and the cold corridor as his only companions. The other Spanish people had already departed and Obi-Wan deduced that working alone in his task would do him better.

As she invited him, though, Kenobi kept track with his duties and did as expected. The Knight bowed his head and took the arm his princess offered and followed her to her privy chambers where they would dine away from the public sight. Once doors were closed and a close maid was kept in not so far bedchamber, food began being served and wine as well, though Obi-Wan politely declined the alcohol liquid, opting for a sweet mead instead.

“I never had the chance to meet a knight who refused wine”, lady Mary remarked with amusement.

Obi-Wan offered a polite smile.

“I am at duty, Your Highness. And I take my duties seriously.”

Mary appreciated to hear that. Her piercing blue eyes studied his ones and her heart felt in peace for being able to find truth and honesty in his words.

“It’s good to see there’s honesty in this world, my lord. We live in perilous days.” She lets out a sigh.

Obi-Wan could read more than lady Mary let it show. He thought perhaps by showing how much he understood her position that he may gain her trust.

“I’ve been in the service to nobility before in different realms”, he says. “I understand you more than you think. But if I may say a word of advise is this: fear is not the answer you need to strength yourself, but rather the faith you have in the Lord.”

Mary was reminded of the following psalm 23:

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name's sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.

And thus she smiled.

“My lord ambassador was right in sending you here, Master Kenobi. I appreciate your words. You seem wise to me.”

Obi-Wan felt his heart warmer than he expected it’d be when his words brought a smile to his princess’s lips.

“If only, my lady. I am merely moved by my faith”, said he humbly, making use of these words.

And they fit precisely in what lady Mary wanted to hear and in what she believed.

“You are doing well by following the Lord’s commandments”, said Mary, sounding pleased with what she heard. “Early tomorrow I’d like to have you with me as we join our prayers to the Lord.”

“If it pleases Your Highness, I’ll gladly follow you”, said Obi-Wan, always careful with his words and behavior. In a world where the true nature of the Jedi had to be masked accordingly to the mentality there in currency, it felt like he was going through such a deep, nearly personal struggle. But duties came first and it would do no well to dwell in the matter. Would this really be different from other missions where he had to conceal his nature and disguise himself?

That first night together went well as expected. Lady Mary told him of her plans, how she expected him to be by her side as discreet as possible as she’d visit her siblings.

“In truth, Master Kenobi, I do not think I will suffer any kind of attack here”, said she. “I comprehend your superior’s concern towards me but I’m still a princess of full noble blood.”

Thinking about Senator Amidala made him internally disagree, but of course he’d not voice that, though Obi-Wan carefully expressed his concerns:

“Even so, my lady. One must never underestimate the circumnstances one is in. Be wise to whom you place your trust and be always watchful.”

A good feeling felt lady Mary when seeing genuine concern displayed in those blue eyes that mirrored her own. She nodded her head and smiled kindly as she thanked him for the counsel she vowed to always remember.

As the days went by, Obi-Wan became almost a shadow to the princess he vowed to protect. He followed her up to Hatfield House and was sure he’d not be seen not even by the retinue of Lady Elizabeth, his princess’s younger sister. As she engaged in conversations, the Jedi Master disappeared out of the public sight.

In fact, he went to his meditations. It was when he came out to find about a plot involving the queen of England that could as well complicate Lady Mary Tudor’s life...

(to be continue)

#Obi-Wan Kenobi #Master Kenobi #Obi-Wan #Star Wars #The Tudors #imagine crossovers #crossover #Mary Tudor #Lady Mary #Lady Mary Tudor #Queen Mary #Mary I of England #Queen Mary of England #Queen Mary I of England #Mary I #Mary Tudor x Obi-Wan

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innermuse24 · 1 year

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I posted 4 times in 2022

That's 4 more posts than 2021!

4 posts created (100%)

0 posts reblogged (0%)

I tagged 4 of my posts in 2022

#do not copy and repost elsewhere - 2 posts

#reblog only - 2 posts

#my own creations - 2 posts

#short poem snippets - 1 post

#hannibal fanvids - 1 post

#do copy and repost elsewhere - 1 post

#star wars: clone wars - 1 post

#mushi-shi - 1 post

#black sails - 1 post

#first part deals with the hannibal fanvids - 1 post

Longest Tag: 45 characters

#based on various forms of music one has heard

My Top Posts in 2022:

youtube

For @apastandfuturenerd, @teddybat24, @thewitchofstjohns, @avidreadr2004 and others out there that might be interested. Enjoy.

0 notes - Posted July 7, 2022

youtube

See the full post

1 note - Posted July 7, 2022

Star Wars Fan-fic: "The Gentle Moments that Happen Before the Storm Hits”

PART 1

The giggle of a child fills the small hovel place, while Obi-Wan Kenobi - former General of a Clone Army, the Negotiator and Jedi Knight - slowly shows Luke - the young son of Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala, who was just like his sister Leia, curious and always wanting to explore - how to float the circular spheres in front him.

Smiling softly at the sight of the little one reaching out to touch them, it reminds him of the times when Anakin used to tease him constantly by floating objects in front of him or when they were sharing a meal float some of his food up into the air.

"Now. would you like to see if you can do it, Luke?" Obi-Wan asks the little one, who is still happily giggling away with delight than gives "Uhh..uhh..." in reply, followed by waiting for him to lower the spheres back down onto the round table.

Lowering the spheres, he gets up deciding to get some water to make a hot meal for the both them leaving Luke to figure out how to do what he just shown the little one.

Stepping out in the shared courtyard where the solar-well which used the power of the twin suns of Tatooine to draw up the groundwater in a bucket than tip it into man-made gully which allows the water to flow down into multiple troughs for the rest of the small living hovels around his own hovel, Obi-wan reaches for the water ladle to start pouring the water into the water container which he uses to collect the water from the well.

The steady sound of the water being constantly empty into the gully, the steady trickling of it through the man-made gully to the other troughs and the humming of the moisture vaporator in the far distance filters around him, while Obi-Wan satisfied he has filled the container with enough water goes to head inside his own hovel.

It is just when reaching the back door of his hovel which slides open with a faint hiss he hears rumbling sound above, which makes him look upwards to the blue sky with wispy clouds in it.

Seeing what is above, is the sign of a large Imperial ship flying overhead and heading in the direction of Mos Espa....

1 note - Posted June 23, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Various Short Poem Snippets (1 of ?)

"Broken Crown”

Shards of fine-china porcelain laying scattered about A throne carved from black stone, you can see from where you stand On a what is a polished mahjong board Your pieces you have used lay destroyed or grounded into dust

Your Armour is cracked in different places as you lay there looking upwards At a strange ceiling that looks like water Then slowly a drop forms on the surface of it to soon to fall downwards Ever slowly until hitting the polished surface of the board, creating a splash of water That rises upwards in slow motion More begin to fall, forming around your body a lake of crimson As you distantly hear the sound of footsteps fading into the distance

The crimson waters begin to encroach on you, coming closer And you start to feel your shattered body start to sink into the deep waters Of what has now become a Crimson lake

Your vision is fading fast Your strength is failing you Your heart-rate slowly beginning to go down As underneath you black-clawed hands reach upwards to wrap around you To pull you downwards into an abyss where the monsters of the deep lurk and thrive

When the crimson waters finally dissipate All that lays on the polished surface of the Mahjong Board is a crown that cannot be fixed Remains broken as it's King has fallen Fallen from the...his Throne of Antlers that is in the thickets of the Forest of the Night

“The Silence Around One”

A flight of crows rising around a single solitary figure standing with hands bound out in front of him

Offerings adorn his arms and around his neck a leather collar with a skull hanging from the chain.

They had given everything to the people trying to live in this land to help them survive only to be betrayed by the ones they had helped

More of them arrive until encircling them in cloud of ruffling ink-black feathers, covering their body completely from sight of anyone else that would be around In the abandoned plain of ash that spreads in all directions, with skeletal trees rising from the ashen ground - the branches curved like claws to ensnare weary travellers into their grasp.

There is nothing around except for black and white.

“Dust Particles”

We are dust.

We light shining outwards.

We are solar systems being born with explosions rippling through space.

We are stars that shine brightly at night of sleeping city, where down below artificial light takes over ours.

“Forming Smoke”

Like smoke spreading outwards up into the air, shapes begin to form swirling and dancing

Fluid they move, softly changing colours to explode outwards then inwards again creating a rhythmic heartbeat in slow-motion.

Then they warp again, changing into a greyish mixture that twists and writhes heavily - thrashing - until changing to a creature made of fluid smoke.

It is not still.

It moves, winding it's way through the abandoned city with buildings the once towered above the other buildings are half-crumbled then it rises upwards into the air shooting out in all directions spreading tendrils of fluid smoke which writhe and pulsate heavily - rippling in the air like when ripples form on pond when a stone is thrown.

Then is sinks back down, spiralling like a tornado that has formed back to the ground and shoots outwards devouring the abandoned city in a wave of smoke, leaving nothing behind.

“Dust and Universe ”

Floating particles all around spinning and rotating slowly in the air, while the landscape spreads outwards reflecting what is above one

It is like polished glass.

Smooth and untainted by anything that could shatter at the merest touch of anything.

How infinite?

See the full post

2 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #Youtube

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kitewithfish · 1 year

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Wednesday Reading Meme - Nov 30 2022

Bit of a milestone: I was trying to record what I've been reading this year and see how many books I actually read without putting much effort into it. I just went in and totted up all the books so far, and we're nearing a nice round number! (For the purposes of this accounting, fanfic over 50K count as novels.)

What I've Read: walk by faith/tell no one what you've seen by Killbothtwins Fandom: Star Wars prequels and novels My thoughts: The ending on this first part was a bit of a woo-woo magic solution, but it was *very* emotionally satisfying. I really enjoyed the slow building of Obi-Wan's network of people to include almost all of the Jedi who Fall in canon - he's not just fighting the existing dark siders, he's actively seeking ways to support people so they don't fall in the first place. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31805044

Winter's Crown by Astolat Fandom: Game of Thrones Author's Summary: “When the Night’s King rides,” the giant said, each word slow as cold honey pouring, “the King in the North must answer. The King in the North…whose name is Stark.” My thoughts: This fic is divided between Robb's and Jaime's POV pretty equally and that works really well. It feels like an extension of Astolat's published work, Spinning Silver, in its focus on a darker folklore element and the idea of promises made to inhuman powers and what those will cost you to keep or to break. I loved Robb's determination and slow descent into not being a being not entirely human, and the way Jaime kept pulling him back from that. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42924834

What I'm Reading: A soul that's born in cold and Rain knows sunlight by KillBothTwins Fandom: Star Wars Author Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi, time traveler, finds trouble once again when he and Qui-Gon are called to Mandalore— but not THAT Mandalore mission. This one involves still pretending to see the future, babies, a slavery ring, and bothering even more people into becoming his friend. As usual, Obi-Wan drags everyone else along for the ride, including some interesting allies. My thoughts: This is FUN. I really enjoy the way that the ripples of the first fic are helping save the galaxy, including making Jango Fett just a better dad. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33144037

Carry On by Tamryn Eradani Fandom: Supernatural Author Summary: When Sam gets into Stanford, Dean needs a bigger paycheck than Bobby's garage can give him. Luckily, he knows a guy. My thoughts: This is Supernatural version of Needs Must by thatotherperv, which is a wildly perfect Suits fic. This variation, which was removed from AO3 when the author went pro, is delightful and indulgent in similar ways. I'm savoring.

Upright Women Wanted by Sarah Gailey - Post-apocalyptic queer women using their position of trust to circumvent the controlling powers of patriarchy and patriotism? A Western that focuses on a baby bookbinder? Adorable. I pulled this out of my metaphorical stack of ebooks that I got for free from Tor because I read this author's discussion of how this book helped her tease out why she kept calling herself "straight" and giving her queer characters tragic endings. https://www.thebooksmugglers.com/2018/06/between-the-coats-a-sensitivity-read-changed-my-life-an-essay-by-sarah-gailey.html

Still Reading - Holdovers from last week: Westerns: Making the Man in Fiction and Film by Lee Clark Mitchell Moby Dick by Herman Melville - Whale Weekly

2312 by Kim Stanley Robinson - Book Club - I'm technically not actually finishing this in time for book club and I'm okay with that. I think it's probably better to just bask in it -plot is very much secondary. Honestly, I feel like the summaries and discussions I have read of this book undersell just how much of it is about the messiness of human relationships - there's a great deal of hard scifi awesomeness, but also a great deal about the main two characters and their slow romance.

What I'll Read Next: The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance by Dorothy Johnson - I watched this movie for the Westerns portion of the Great Queer Supernatural Re-Watch, and I was curious. The movie stars John Wayne and Jimmy Stewart, and it is so perfectly apt for their types that I wanted to see if the story had been greatly altered to fit. I find Jimmy Stewart excellent in comedies and tragedies, but his style of acting is pre-Stanislovsky and it seems like it would work better for me in a theatrical setting. It felt a bit odd here. John Wayne is a piece of shit who supported the House Un-American Activitoes Committee and was ardently racist. As an actor, he's usually boring and uninspired, tho I will admit his role in Stagecoach was charming.

Library books in the house: Maul: Lockdown - Joe Schreiber Tiger's Daughter - K Arsenault Rivera Riot Baby - Rochi Onyeuchi The Silence of the Wilting Skin - Tlotlo Tsamaase Whispers Underground - Ben Aaronovitch Penric's Demon - LM Bujold The Book of the Unnamed Midwife - Med Elison The Uncle's Story - Witi Ihimaera

Newly purchased: Man, this is just an ongoing backlog

Owned and need to read: NK Jemisin's The World We Make, Frey Marske's A Restless Truth, California Bones, the Grief of Stones by Katherine Addison, Raven Song by IA Ashcroft, Kraken's Sacrifice by Katee Robert, Even Though I Know the End by CL Polk, True Colors by Karen Traviss, At The Feet of the Sun by Victoria Goddard, Tamryn Eradani's Enchanting Encounters Books 2 and 3, Like Real People Do by EL Massey, Rescued by the Married Monster Hunters Ennis Rook Bashe

#reading meme

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thevalleyisjolly · 3 years

Text

Bewildered but thrilled to announce that my favourite character type is no longer clever and very sad people who try to make happiness for others where they can, and is instead highly competent warrior monks with tenuous/non existent relationships to parents and/or parental figures.

#the valley is posting #i strongly suspect this shift began with obi wan kenobi who stands at the perfect intersection of those two character types #(pour one out for my man obi wan kenobi)#i have no idea what this says about me but it crept on me and took me by surprise #there's beau (critical role); elnor (star trek); even osferth (the last kingdom...which i'm really not in that fandom i swear)#and of course my magnum opus 'on the composition of clouds' features cumulous and a very complicated family dynamic #also in the d&d campaign i play in; my character's favourite party member is @nimblebird's monk #who is a highly competent warrior monk who doesn't know who her parents are #have i turned into my d&d character? is that where this love of monks comes from?#oh no; i've become vyce #i shall soon start talking in a quebecois accent and you all have my permission to one shot me when that day comes

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swbumblebee · 2 years

Text

Mace Windu, Master of the Order and one half of the Jedi’s only time-travelling duo, looked at the clock.

It had been a depressing kind of evening. Plo had something on and Depa was away, he’d been left with his paperwork and messages and one sad glass of wine.

He sighed. Ah well, tomorrow might be more fun, may as well turn in-

He froze, frowning as his thoughts were interrupted by the person slowly approaching his door. He’d recognize that presence anywhere, but it was a little…off.

He didn’t make it to the door before the chime went off four times in quick succession.

“Yes, alright I know you’re there” the bemused Master grumbled, opening the door to reveal the now familiar face of twenty-three-year-old Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Mace stopped short in the doorway. The young man in front of him looked awful; hair sticking up all over the place, his face the same colour as the white wall a part from the starkly dark circles that hung beneath glassy eyes, and there was a smattering of stubble on his chin.

His horror must have shown on his face as Obi-Wan flushed awkwardly, flashing a very quick tight smile.

“Hello. Sorry. This is a mistake. Goodbye.” He said quickly starting to turn away and flee.

Mace sprung into action.

“No Obi-Wan –“ he managed to grab hold of his arm before the young Knight could escape. “I’m sorry, I’m pleased to see you, do come on in” he said genially whilst practically dragging the young man into the room.

“Oh no it’s alright I know you’re-“

“Never too busy for you” Mace said firmly, the internal panic rising with every word. “Sit down”. The push he was aiming for turned into rather more of a shove in his desperation to get his charge safely on the squashy sofa.

“Mm thanks.”

Mace observed the man before him, a suspicion creeping into his mind.

“Where’s Master Plo?” Obi-Wan asked looking around, slightly more animated than usual and genuinely surprised that they weren’t together.

“He has his own rooms you know” Mace answered tartly.

All he got was a rather dubious look in response.

“Obi-Wan” he said slowly, pouring a glass of water from the pitcher on the caff table. “Have you been out drinking?” the Master asked lightly.

The knight covered his face with his hands before admitting.

“ I have had a drink. Yes.” he confirmed slowly. “s’ my anniversary.”

Mace stalled in confusion.

“Your…anniversary?” he clarified.

“Mm Hmm.” Was all he got in the way of an answer from the usually articulate man.

Mace dithered. Plo was so much better at this kind of thing!

He allowed the silence to stretch, mentally going through the high-carbohydrate food in the kitchen and the time it would take to feed to the inebriated young man.

“Qui-Gon agreed to train me ten years ago today. Again, I mean. He kind of had to but still. It was nice.” He volunteered, staring at something on the wall in front of him and seemingly forgetting who he was talking to.

Mace blinked.

What?

“Obi-Wan, I don’t understand.” He said softly, unwilling to break the spell; he’d never known his friend to volunteer this much information, in either timeline.

“Melida/Daan.” The younger man answered blandly. “Ten years ago. I Arrived, kriffed it all up, he had to come get me, an’ I made him train me again.” He said, flippancy entering his tone.

Mace looked at him in horror. Melida/Daan, how had he forgotten? It was a chapter in his and the order’s history that he was deeply, deeply ashamed of.

He looked at the capable, strong person currently melting into the sofa next to him and released his sadness into the Force.

“Obi-Wan, my friend” he said gently “that’s not how I remember it.”

Large blue eyes turned to him, accompanied by a confused frown.

“I remember a brave child, determined to follow the force at great, great cost to himself, determined to save as many lives as possible.”

“But I didn’t-“

“I’m sorry”. He cut the young man’s excuses off, turning to look at him solemnly. “We made a grave mistake, you should never have been in that position, and I am so thankful that you were so strong and clever and talented, and you came back to us.”

Predictably, Obi-Wan looked away, silently and slightly awkwardly contemplating the glass of water in his hand.

Mace pressed his advantage.

“And I do not believe, that in his entire life, anybody made Qui-Gon Jinn do anything.”

The mention of his Master’s name had the young Knight taking a deep shaky breath. Still, he looked down at the glass in front of him.

Mace barely resisted the urge to give him a hug.

“Being your Master was the honour of his life, and he took you back because he was appalled at himself for ever letting you go.” Mace explained gently, wondering when to reign himself in.

Reassurance, support and care he and Plo could do, mind healers would have to do the rest. Who, this time around, Obi-Wan Kenobi was going to see come hell or high water.

They sat in pregnant silence for a few long moments, Mace politely not noticing the man next to him struggling to get himself under control.

“He was very proud of you.” He continued quietly. “Hells, getting him to shut up about you for five minutes was damn near impossible.”

As predicted, that earned him a watery smile and a hiccup as finally, finally, the usually so reserved and wooden young man leant ever so slightly towards him, and Mace didn’t hesitate to do the rest, pulling him tightly into a messy hug on the sofa.

It was a breakdown that had been a long time coming. Obi-Wan had taken everything so far firmly in his stride, adapting himself and his life to accommodate his grief and his new responsibilities, but this was always going to happen. A very small, selfish part of Mace was very proud, and grateful, that the fiercely independent Knight had sought him out (he and Plo, he supposed) for comfort and care. They were making headway in their mission!

“Shhh I know, that’s it” he said encouragingly, having a vivid flashback to a heartbroken Depa in this exact same position once upon a time as he stroked a skinny back and projected comfort and acceptance into the force around them.

They stayed like that for Force knows how long, Mace eventually entering a vaguely meditative state until Obi-Wan shifted against him, flushing as his stomach rumbled.

“Oh, sorry.”

The older Jedi nearly rolled his eyes and made a mental note to warn against drinking on an empty stomach, but untangled himself all the same and headed to the kitchen.

“Anakin is with Madam Skywalker?” Mace clarified as he returned with a plate of tubers and another pint of water.

Obi-Wan nodded, taking the offerings gratefully.

“’till Primeday.”

“Good, stay here tonight” he instructed, leaving no room for excuses he knew were coming, by throwing a blanket over the vulnerable young man on his sofa.

“…thank you Master” came the unexpected, and rather quiet response.

Mace smiled as he left the room, making a note to return with an emergency bucket the moment his companion was asleep.

---

Lying in his bed he fished out his communicator to keep his co-conspirator in ‘Operation Kenobi Support’ in the loop.

‘OWK staying here tonight. Having a wobble. Bring extra breakfast - M.’

Not a second went by before he received a response.

‘Telling me now? Coming Over. P.’

‘OK, he’s asleep. M.’

‘Coming anyway. Should be there! P.’

And then a moment later

‘Should have told me at once! P.’

Mace grimaced. Vaguely, he felt bad about the coddling Obi-Wan was sure to get when Mace filled his partner-in-time-travel in. But not as bad as he felt for himself, at the prospect of the earful Plo was going to give him the moment they were alone.

#space dads go time travelling #Mace Windu #Obi-Wan Kenobi #angst?#hurt/comfort #plo koon #poor Obi-Wan #cuddles for Obes

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

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Jangobi 5 for the soulmate thing? Because that would make the fight on kamino just *chef's kiss*

soulmate au prompts

5. the one where you don’t know your soulmate until you touch them.

Apparently there’s never any skin to skin contact in the movie? Because armor? So......... we’re gonna just. Quick little thing.

Also I’ve been doing a lot of “marginally less shitty” Jango, but this is just-as-shitty-as-canon Jango. It’s, uh, not much of a romance, because Kamino. Actually it’s mostly just a lot of angry yelling about human rights violations.

...I’m sure they’ll get together eventually. It’s just, you know... it’s going to take a while.

------

Jango’s heard about this Jedi.

The man isn’t famous, or particularly acclaimed. It’s just that Mandalorians gossip, and Death Watch isn’t exempt, and Dred Priest still has friends in the terrorist group. So do a few others.

(Jango sometimes wonders if he’d have invited Priest, had he knows the monster was only a step away from being Death Watch himself.)

(Probably not.)

(He’d at least have been able to see the battle circles coming.)

Death Watch hates one specific Jedi above all others: Obi-Wan Kenobi.

It’s almost enough to make a man like the pretty bastard, except the reason Death Watch hates this specific Jedi is because he kept Duchess Kryze alive, and Jango isn’t much of a fan of hers, either.

In the moment, though, the main thing this all means is that Obi-Wan Kenobi knows Mandalorian customs.

First meetings, out of armor, mean ensuring the arm clasp has skin contact.

His eyes flick down to where Jango is reflexively pulling up his sleeves, and the man just... does the same, sodden as the beige-on-brown-on-dark-brown robes are.

Jango can’t just play it off. He has to, ugh, arm clasp with a Jedi.

Kenobi probably guesses how unpleasant this is for him, going by the grim little smile that he wears, the one Taun We can’t read and Jango can, but they touch forearms and le--

They do not let go.

“Oh kriff,” Kenobi swears, and then it’s just... it’s too late. It’s too late to stop anything.

“Jetii,” Jango spits as if it’s a swear.

He doesn’t want to be soulmates with a Jedi. No sane person ever wants to be soulmates with a Jedi, but as a Mandalorian, and as specifically Jango Fett, who signed onto this project for revenge against Jedi, the idea is just... excruciating.

“For revenge? Not entirely unexpected, but I’m still somehow disappointed.”

“Stay out of my head.”

Kenobi smiles at him, completely devoid of anything but the blackest of humor. “Are you staying out of mine?”

And, well, no. They’re soulmates. Kenobi has more of an idea on how to control how far his mind wanders into Jango’s, but in this moment, just seconds after being bound together by the universe... Jango’s slamming into Kenobi’s shields with an embarrassing lack of control.

“Is something the matter?” Taun We asks.

“I do believe we need to speak alone,” Kenobi says. “Unfortunate timing, but this is our first meeting, and it appears we are soulmates.”

“Ah. We were informed of the human tendency towards such.” She blinks, too large eyes impossible to read for Kenobi, but entirely readable for Jango after all these years. She’s irritated. “I apologize, but it appears we were unable to remove such unpredictability from the product.”

A wave of revulsion leaks out of Kenobi’s mind and into Jango’s. The man just nods. “I understand. As it is, I imagine that the near instantaneous communication on the battlefield will be a boon, if any are bonded to each other or to active soldiers.”

“I defer to your judgement as client, Master Kenobi,” Taun We hums, still irritable. It’s less visible in her face, but... Kenobi can feel it. “I shall leave you to get... acquainted.”

Aaaaaaaand she’s expecting them to sleep together the second she turns her back. The disgust she feels at the thought of such carnal activities is thirdhand to Jango, but he can still feel it, because Kenobi can feel it, because they’re soulmates.

“Oh, do tell me how you really feel,” Kenobi mutters, sweeping past him into the apartment.

Jango wishes he could slam the door as he storms after the Jedi.

“Listen here--”

“Absolutely not,” Kenobi says, with the kind of bland, impersonal smile that Jango’s heard Dred Priest bitch about at least a dozen times. “I need you to answer me this: why are you selling your children into what is clearly slavery?”

“They’re not my children.”

“You choose to be dar’buir, then?” Kenobi clucks a tongue, acting like he can’t even feel Jango’s waves of hate that are just growing by the second. “Shame on you, Mand’alor.”

“I am not the Mand’alor.”

“No. You are demagolka,” Kenobi says, the sweet words of Jango’s first language falling from his lips like poisoned honey. “They are your children, Fett. Your clones, just as human as you.”

“They are little more than droids, Jedi. The Kaminoans--”

Kenobi laughs, sharp and bitter, and it’s enough of a surprise that Jango stops talking. The Jedi strides closer, and it takes everything in him to not step back at what little emotion the Jedi allows through.

“Let me show you,” Kenobi hisses, putting a hand on either side of Jango’s head and it’s too much this is not a sense he is meant to have.

Kenobi cannot lie to Jango, not in this mental space. Not in this existence. He can cherry-pick what he shows, he can exaggerate, he can hide, but he cannot present a falsehood.

What Kenobi shows him, as he pulls Jango into his mind and drowns him in the sensation of the Force, is how each and every clone shines, bright and unique and so very human, so very sentient, so very alive.

These are your children, Kenobi says, directly into his mind and with no room to pull away. If they choose to disown you for your crimes against them, then that is their right, but until they do, they are your responsibility. You’re playing in denial and cognitive dissonance, soulmate mine. If I have to drag you into caring for your children the way any Mandalorian would, then so be it.

“Kriff off,” Jango manages to grit out in the real world. Kenobi looks unimpressed, when he lets go. The sensations in Jango’s mind, the jangled distaste and horror and anger, those are worse.

“Are you going to be dar’manda?” Kenobi demands. “You, who were once king of your people, have you really sunk so low to be the worst of your kind? To be so horrible that even Kyr’tsad would be shamed? Or worse, approve?”

“You have no place--”

“You are violating one of the core tenets of your culture!” Kenobi shouts. “You are being the worst of what you could be, Jango Fett! The most important, the absolute most important element of your culture, the care and nurture of children, and look at what you’ve done--”

“The clones--”

“Your sons!” Kenobi growls at him. “Your children, Fett. I’ve a student that is, by every Mandalorian standard, my son. I know what it is to take in a child that is not yours by blood, to raise a foundling, and you are cutting off millions that are your blood. You aren’t turning away an orphan to another family because you cannot care for them as they deserve, you are breeding your children for war like bantha to slaughter.”

Jango throws the first punch.

Kenobi throws the second.

By the time the fight ends, the room is in ruins, for all that they do not draw blasters or sabers. Kenobi has Jango on his back, straddling his chest with knees on his wrists, a vibroblade to his neck. Kenobi’s lip is bleeding, and Jango thinks he might have caused a hairline fracture in the cheekbone. Both of them have at least one broken rib, and Jango’s currently blind in one eye from the blood pouring out of a cut on his forehead.

Kenobi’s a good fighter. If it weren’t for everything else, Jango might have even been able to appreciate that.

“You,” Kenobi growls, fisting one hand into Jango’s curls and yanking for emphasis, earning himself a snarl in return. “Are going to fix this mess you’ve helped create. If I have to drag the entire Jedi council, the entire senate, if I have to drag in all of Mandalore to make you fix this, I will.”

There’s determination in those words, angry and a little spiteful, but mostly just... disappointed.

“Of course I’m disappointed,” Kenobi spits out, like the words are hot coals. He’s expressive. Jango wants to like it, but mostly he just resents the trait. “I hoped to never find a soulmate; it just complicates things. Opsec becomes a nightmare and holding to the code is difficult. And now I have a soulmate, and he’s an absolute monster that views his own children as little more than droids.”

“War is going to come for them no matter what,” Jango manages to say, and Kenobi’s look is back to unimpressed. “Don’t pretend you haven’t heard of the separatists. There’s an army of actual droids, metal and code, just waiting for the right moment to pick a fight. It’s too late to stop it.”

“...you’re not only raising an army of your own children, but engineering the war that’s going to kill them?” Kenobi almost screeches, and the wave of nauseous loathing that slams into Jango is almost enough to make him actually vomit. Kenobi didn’t pull punches, not in the actual fight and not in whatever mental battle they’re apparently having via emotions and words.

“I’m not engineering it,” Jango says. “I’m just one part in a bigger machine. I got my payment. The rest is on Tyranus.”

He doesn’t even stop the images from flickering through his mind, throwing the man who hired him under the speeder.

“Master Dooku?” Kenobi whispers, horror growing. “No, no, I killed the--the Sith can’t--I killed the one on Naboo, and the Council mentioned the Rule of Two, but... oh hells.”

“You know him?” Jango taunts.

“He’s my grandmaster,” Kenobi says, and Jango can’t imagine the rest is meant to reach him, but the undercurrent is there.

Count Dooku is, by Mandalorian law, Kenobi’s grandfather.

Jango... suddenly feels a little regret about the taunting.

“I’d rather you feel regret about your children,” Kenobi snaps at him. “Every single one of them is a person, one that you chose to bring into this world, and they are your children.”

The argument is going in circles, but there are still places to take this.

“Your army is all adults, Kenobi,” Jango decides.

“They are ten years old,” Kenobi retorts. “Accelerated aging, sure, but they are children.”

“They’re soldiers.”

Disgust again, the same thing Kenobi has felt every time Jango has reasserted the purpose these children were born to, the same thing Jango has told his son, his sergeants, himself, for over a decade.

“A son?” Kenobi whispers. “Is your denial that strong, Fett? That you would claim one and not the rest?”

“Payment,” Jango says, and lets Kenobi feel the rest, since he seems so karking keen on it.

“Keeping one child in exchange for letting yourself be the creator of a slave army,” Kenobi says, and he doesn’t seem impressed. “Weren’t you a slave? Two years on a spice ship, wasn’t it?”

“Don’t you dare--”

“And you would put your sons in chains,” Kenobi hisses, hands going for Jango’s head again. It’s a sense memory, this time, of dark tunnels and exploding collars and a dar’jetii that... was his older brother. According to the Jedi way of thinking.

It’s a twisting fear and pain and I will die so that others may live while looking at an older man, a Master, who can maybe save the other slaves at the expense of one too-angry Initiate’s li--

“Get out of my head!” Jango roars, and he still can’t move his arms, and his legs are held down by the Force, but he twists his head to bite and Kenobi snatches his hands away.

Kenobi glares down at him, almost sneering with the amount of disdain he has for Jango’s general existence. “I’m your soulmate, and had we met fifteen years ago, I might have even thought that an alright thing... but whatever you are now isn’t something I can abide by. You won’t listen to morality, so let me say this instead: a Jedi does not kill an unarmed opponent, but I have full authority to arrest you, even here. I will take you back to the Republic, to be tried for your collusion with a Sith, and you will go to prison. You can try to run, but I am in your head, and you’re in mine. Once you’re in prison, what happens to your son?”

The implication is there, but even if it wasn’t, Jango hears the thought:

They’re soulmates. The Republic would place Boba with Kenobi.

He refuses to have his child raised by a holier-than-thou Jedi.

“Holiness doesn’t have any meaning in Jedi philosophy,” Kenobi says, relaxing just the slightest bit. “Other religions, yes, but no place in ours.”

“You’re a self-righteous bastard,” Jango says flatly. “Despite threatening a child.”

“You mean threatening to take custody of a child being raised in an unhealthy environment, one where he’s being taught to devalue his brothers, engendering a mental dissonance where he has to convince himself he’s special for a reason and that you won’t just drop him if he fails to be perfect?” Kenobi asks. “I prefer to keep children with guardians who love them, but the argument that he’s better off away from you isn’t a difficult one.”

“Oh, like a child-stealer--”

“My mother tried to drown me when I was a toddler,” Kenobi says, even flatter than Jango had been a minute earlier. “Because I was Force-Sensitive, and it was considered curse on my home planet. A Jedi saved me. Tell me that was a kidnapping and not being saved.”

Jango grinds his teeth. “You’re damned smug whenever you have some sob story that outranks mine.”

“This isn’t about who has the bigger sob story,” Kenobi says, and Jango can feel how he’s just as ready to start clenching his jaw to deal with Jango’s bullshit. “It’s about you doing your damned job as a Mandalorian and a father, and taking responsibility for your children. All three million of them.”

It really, really is a pity they didn’t meet before Jango took this job. They could have been great together.

As it is, Jango goes for the groin shot the second Kenobi lets him back on his feet.

#Jangobi #kinda #Jango Fett #Obi Wan Kenobi #star wars #kamino #slavery mention #child abuse mention #just the usual clone stuff really #Phoenix Answers Memes #Phoenix Posts #sorry this isn't as shippy as people were probably hoping #mostly it's just Obi-Wan being deeply angry #and Jango being chock-full of denial and cognitive dissonance #500 notes

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