#Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order - Dark Temple | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vibrantbirdy · 10 months

Note

Helllloooooo~ your writing is fab! May I please request some Cal Kestis x Reader fiction???? Could the scenario please be that the reader was once a jedi padawan along with Cal and they were best friends and maybe have a little child crush on each other and they got separated due to order 66? Then, you guessed it, they find each other after all these years and it's all fluffy and they realise their true feelings and everything adorable?? Please and thank you! Have a lovely day/night!

Hi Anon, thank you so much for your kind words and thank you for this request! I really love writing for Cal!

Character x Reader requests are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Masterlist of my fics can be found here.

Title: Familiarity Fandom: Star Wars Jedi: Fallen Order and Survivor games Setting: Prior to the events of Survivor Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Action/adventure; Fluff; Angst; Hurt/Comfort Warnings: Canon typical combat violence; canon typical death/angst/survivor's guilt relating to Order 66; mild sexuality; one claustrophobic scene due to ruined temple adventuring; SPOILERS for Jedi: Fallen Order and minor ones for the set up to Survivor. Pairing: Cal Kestis x Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: c.8k (this one got away from me!) Author's note: I couldn't write about Order 66 without a little angst but hopefully there's still plenty of fluff and romance and adventure to be found here! Summary: Believing each other lost to the brutal purge of the Emperor's Order 66, ten years after you were separated from your childhood best friend during the systematic eradication of the Jedi Order, you and Cal Kestis are finally reunited amid the strange Temple ruins of an ancient civilisation.

10 years ago

"Run!" Jedi Master Rena Daylum commands as the Clone Troopers who were once your trusted comrades turn their blasters towards you.

Master Daylum dispatches them quickly as you ignore her instruction and ignite your own lightsaber. The purple blade hums into life and you ready yourself for the next squad of Troopers.

But before your saber is even fully extended, a burst of energy hits you squarely in the chest and you fly backwards, skidding across the hard durasteel floor on your backside.

As you look up in surprise, you can't help the childish dart of hurt that stings your pride as you see Master Daylum, her palm extended towards you, and realise that she has pushed you away. She's never used the Force on you like that before.

"For once in your life, Padawan, do as you are told!"

Daylum extends her hand again and the control panels on the open blast door between you explode in a shower of sparks. Even as you run back towards her, the heavy metal doors hiss closed and lock shut in front of you.

With little other choice, you carry out the instruction you've been given and run. You are more frightened than you've ever been in your young life. As you sprint down the Venator-class Destroyer's corridors, you reach out for your Master in the Force. You sense only a dark void where her comforting, consistent presence had always been and in that moment, you know that she is gone forever.

The Albedo Brave, despite her rather sterile appearance with her harsh florescent lighting, her heavy, threatening blast doors and cold metal walls, had seemed homely to you only this morning.

Now the ship feels almost alien. The emergency lighting flashes intermittently, illuminating the corridors with an eerie crimson glow, and the mournful wail of the alarm seems to all but scream in your head.

You hide in a maintenance closet as another squad of Clones pass by. The once familiar voices of the Troopers now sparks a deep dread within you. Over the past month you've been aboard the Brave, you had started to recognise the individual Clones from their personal intonations and patterns of speech, even with their helmets on. Now, their tone is uniform, cold and robotic. And deadly. And this ship is teeming with them.

You think you are heading in the right direction towards the escape pods, but you are far from certain. Upon embarking, you'd been so thrilled about your first assignment to a Venator and the fact that your fellow Padawan and best friend, Cal Kestis, was already onboard. But this excitement meant that you hadn't really paid all that much attention to the safety drill with Master Daylum.

You always thought she'd be here to guide you if anything happened...

As you continue to stumble lost and alone through the gargantuan ship you once called home, you halt abruptly as you think you hear someone shout your name over the blaring alarm.

You look up towards the source of the sound and see Cal peering down at you through the grated walkway of the maintenance corridor above. There is a screech of metal as he removes the heavy durasteel access panel.

"Cal? The Clones ... they killed Master Daylum. She's ... dead," you manage to stammer, "What's happening?"

You feel your face crumple as fresh tears begin to fall. You wipe them away and Cal can only look at you with an expression of sympathy and grief on his kind, honest face.

You both jump as you hear blaster fire nearby. You need to move.

Cal lays himself flat on his stomach and reaches his arm down towards you.

"Come on!"

He stretches out a hand. It hangs agonisingly close, just out of your reach. Your fingertips barely brush against his.

"Jump!"

You try to centre yourself in the Force, but in your panic and confusion, you are completely closed off from it. All you can manage is a pitiful little hop.

"I can't Cal, I can't... I can't feel anything!"

The boy shuffles further off the ledge. He obviously has his feet hooked round the durasteel support struts as anchor points. Still, it looks impossible, but you bend your knees and spring up and off the metal floor.

Somehow, Cal grabs your hand.

Cal is the same age as you - thirteen - but due to a recent growth spurt you are a good few inches taller than him now. You've been teasing him mercilessly about it recently and he has been taking it with his characteristic good nature, biting back with quick witted retorts.

Neither of you are laughing about it now.

You are dangling just inches off the ground and, despite his best efforts, Cal simply doesn't have the strength to pull you up from this angle. He has no leverage. Eventually his grip slips and you fall away from him, hitting the ground with a painful thud.

You look up at Cal, his expression of alarm mirroring what you assume your own must looks like.

“Try again," he whispers urgently, his green eyes wide and desperate.

He extends his arm with all his might, splaying his palm as if the extra few millimetres will make any difference to your predicament.

You twist around from your position on the floor as a new sound carries down the Venator's passageways. Voices. There are voices now. Clones just beyond the nearest blast door. You took your lightsaber to the control panel, sealing it shut as best you could, but it won't take them long to get through.

You lift your gaze back to Cal - your friend, your best friend - and shake your head.

"I'll meet you there," you say, trying to sound brave and reassuring.

Cal hisses your name as you take off down the corridor away from him. You can't bear to turn around and see the lost, pleading expression on his face so you run around the corner out of his sight and you don't look back.

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

Present day

This is not going well, Cal Kestis thinks wryly to himself as spins his lightsaber in his hand, the blue laser blocking blaster bolts and sending them ricocheting back towards the Stormtroopers firing them his way.

The fire from the Troopers is relentless and more and more units in white clad armour continue to pour in through the great ceremonial entrance of the Temple to the ancient Spori civilization.

It is clear to the Jedi now that he has severely underestimated the scale of the Empire's presence on Spori, and their interest in the ruined Temple.

As he raises his saber above his head to parry a strike from a Scout Trooper with a stun baton, he groans inwardly as he remembers the misplaced confidence with which he'd bid farewell to the rest of the crew of the Mantis as they dropped him off and set out on a supply run.

"In and out," he'd quipped. "Easy."

Idiot.

Cal's constant companion, the small bipedal droid, BD-1, is crouched low atop his usual resting place on the Jedi's shoulder. He peeks out every so often to analyse the increasingly desperate situation beeping and whirring unsolicited combat advice in binary.

"Yeah buddy, I know, I know, I know..." Cal mutters through gritted teeth as he is forced to swing his lightsaber in what has become a series of exclusively defensive manoeuvres.

The pace is unsustainable.

*********************************************

You are perched on the shoulder of a gargantuan stone statue, a grand monument to a respected Spori High Priestess. You gaze down at swathes of Stormtroopers as they pour into the ruined Temple.

You've just retrieved a data archive from the inner sanctum of the Temple. The Spori were an ancient civilization who, above all else valued knowledge and spent hundreds if not thousands of years collating information on other peoples, some now lost to the mists of time or ravages of war, including the Jedi.

When you'd heard about the Imperial invasion of Spori, you knew you needed to retrieve the archive in order to preserve any surviving ancient knowledge of the Jedi Order before the Empire could either destroy it or use it for some nefarious purpose...

When you first arrived, although you'd had to evade the occasional Imperial patrol on your trek from the Spori capital across the planet's rugged landscape, there was not the slightest hint of Imperial presence around the Temple itself. It was practically peaceful.

Now, it looked like the Empire had deployed an entire kriffing garrison to the ancient ruin.

From the safety of your high vantage point you watch the chaos unfold below. Or, more accurately, you stare in disbelief at the shockingly familiar figure wielding a blue lightsaber at the very eye of the storm.

"Cal," you breathe out his name.

He's older of course, but it's unquestionably Cal Kestis. You'd recognise that flaming red hair anywhere. He has a short beard to match now and, annoyingly, you come to the conclusion that he has undergone a considerable growth spurt in the last decade or so and he now looks to be much taller than you.

He has a little red and white droid with him. It clings to the Jedi's back, swaying perfectly in tune with its master's movements, never finding itself unbalanced. It's as if the BD unit is an extension of Cal's anatomy.

Cal moves with determination and confidence, striking and parrying with alarming accuracy and speed. It is the fighting form of a competent and experienced warrior, his physicality at once both elegant and deadly. It's a far cry from the stilted and unsure combat stance of the young boy who used to pull his punches in training.

Still, the Troopers just keep on coming and Cal is obviously tiring. He is now on the back foot and will soon be overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of Imperial soldiers.

You need to do something.

Scanning your surroundings, your eyes clock the huge, monolithic stone lintel slab hanging above the ceremonial entrance to the Temple. There's a weakness in the left side pillar. If you brought it down with the Force, you could seal off the Imp's only ingress point. Then you would only have to dispatch of the Stormtroopers already inside.

You'll have to find another way out of the ruin itself of course, but that's a problem for later. The situation is becoming dire and this is the thing you can think of to do.

Suddenly, a Rocket Trooper dives at great velocity and collides into Cal, slamming his boots into the trunk of the Jedi's body and sending the him sprawling across the floor where he curls into a ball,. His lightsaber rolls across the flagstones with a mournful clinking sound.

You stand up, using the Force to balance and centre yourself, to find strength. You puff out your cheeks and exhale sharply through your lips. Then, you jump.

*************************************************

Cal writhes on the ground clutching his abdomen at the agonising point of impact where the Trooper had barrelled feet into him feet first.

Didn't see that one coming.

He gasps in deep lungfuls of air as he desperately tries to regulate his breathing through the pain.

Another broken rib? No. Thank the Force. But he's severely winded and there'll be bruising for sure. He knows he needs to move but kriff it hurts.

BD-1, who was thrown from his shoulder on impact, is now dancing from foot to little metallic foot next to him, urging him to get up.

Suddenly, he hears the unmistakable song of another lightsaber and he looks up in awe to see a stranger standing in front of him, purple blade cutting through the air and deflecting the continuing onslaught of blaster bolts.

The figure is hooded, and even when they are forced to turn towards him as they wheel around to interrupt the advance of a Scout Trooper attempting to flank them, he can't see the face hidden behind the folds of material.

Something in the Force nags at him. There is a strange familiarity in the presence of this mysterious warrior who has come to his aid.

Spurred on by curiosity, Cal steels himself and tries to rise, extending out a hand to bring his lightsaber into his hand with the Force. Too late, he registers a flash of white in his peripheral vision as a Stormtrooper's boot collides with his temple and everything snaps into blackness.

***********************************************

You've been stood watch beside an unconscious Cal for almost ten minutes. The dust is still settling from the avalanche of rock you brought tumbling down to the ancient Temple floor. The plan worked. Tonnes of rubble now separate you and Cal from the Empire.

You look down at your childhood friend. Blacked out from a kick to the head or not, you can't believe he slept though that noise. You're just starting to get worried when he finally stirs and groans. His little droid, who has since introduced himself as BD-1, boops hopefully.

"Cal?"

His green eyes, still shockingly familiar despite the passage of time, flicker open. When they finally focus and lock on to yours, they widen in alarm.

Cal leaps clumsily to his feet and stumbles backwards away from you. Disoriented and in pain, he staggers, one hand clutching at his side with the movement, the other held out in from of him. His mouth is agape, and he stares at you as if he's seen a ghost.

Cal says your name as if it's a question. It's barely a whisper.

“Yes,”

“You're...here?" His voice is faltering, unsure. "You're not...?”

Dead? You think he's going to say.

"...not a dream?

“It's me Cal," you reply and your voice is hushed with emotion, "it's really me.”

Cal drops heavily to his knees and you dart forwards to catch him, fearing he's about to pass out again. Instead, when you are kneeling face to face, he grasps your hands in his.

“I can't believe it,” he says breathlessly.

You bring your forehead to rest against his for a moment until he pulls you in a hug so tight you can barely breathe. You return it anyway, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing as if to prove to him that you are not an illusion or some cruel trick of the Force.

He winces and it breaks the spell. You let him go and cast your eyes over him, examining for wounds.

"Force, sorry," you apologise, "Anything broken?"

Cal gingerly lifts up his dark grey shirt which is filthy with dust and grime but no visible blood. He reveals one side of his bruised torso and you can't help but notice how, under the welts, the muscles there are sculpted and strong. Even on this small part of his body, his skin is littered with scars. Like you, it seems, Cal is living the life of a warrior.

"Not this time..." he quips, letting the material fall back into place.

BD-1 jumps up onto Cal's shoulder and gives him a little butt with his flat, rectangular head. The droid ejects a small cannister from one of his compartments and Cal catches it, injecting green liquid into his chest. A healing stim.

"Thanks buddy."

Cautiously, Cal pushes himself to his feet where he stands with his hands on his hips, inspecting the huge pile of rubble covering what was once the grand and sacred entrance to the Spori Temple.

"That got anything to do with you?" he asks, gesturing casually at the mess.

You dust off your hands as you rise to stand beside him.

"Someone had to save your ass. Thought I might as well make an impression on the Empire at the same time."

He looks at you and for the first time since you've reunited with him, he smiles properly. Your heart soars. It's the same boyish grin you remember so well.

"Could be a problem."

"Maybe not..." you reply as you pull out the data pad you'd loaded up with an Old Republic era holo map of the Temple. The technological backflips you'd had to do to get that thing to run on your device...

BD-1 boops indignantly.

That's my job.

"Look at these tunnels," you continue, placating the little droid with a gentle pat to the head as you speak, "they connect to various ceremonial chambers, some functional rooms too, and then out the other side. I think they were once service passageways. It's the long way round, it'll take us a couple of days but..."

"Why are you here?" Cal asks suddenly, as if the thought has only just occurred to him.

He's looking at you questioningly. It's not suspicion. It's a sort of sharp curiosity, and you suddenly become aware of the obvious. That you and Cal are here for the same purpose.

Nevertheless, you trust him implicitly. You bend down and reach into your small knapsack which is currently resting by your feet. You rummage around until you find the tiny golden data sphere which holds the Spori culture archive.

"Why are you here?" You counter, although you suspect your theory must be correct.

Sure enough, Cal raises his eyebrows and nods towards the object in your palm.

"Figures," you say.

You are interrupted by the unmistakable din of a laser firing through rock. The Empire have obviously brought in heavy duty cutting equipment. They must want the Spori archive more than you thought.

"Work it out later?" Cal suggests.

You nod in agreement, before stuffing the data sphere back into your bag and grabbing Cal's hand, leading him briskly towards the nearest service tunnel marked on your map.

***************************************************

You and Cal follow the old passageways for miles. The two of you fall back into your old, easy way of conversation as if no time has passed at all. Your laughter echoes through the ruin, filling up forgotten rooms and dormant chambers where the ring of voices has not been heard in centuries.

Finally, the tunnel you are following leads out to a cavernous ceremonial chamber. It is an extravagantly long hall and all the way down there are huge pillars, inset with hundreds of alcoves where candles must once have been placed for illumination. You try to imagine a grand feast being held here, priests and dignitaries and attendants all floating across the chamber in their opulent ceremonial garb.

Cal nudges you, starting you out of your reverie. You look at him and he nods down the long room towards the furthest two pillars in the distance.

"Race ya."

"Oh, you are so on, Kestis," You accept and crouch into a starting position, welcoming a chance to properly stretch your legs. "On three...One..."

"Woah, woah, woah!" Cal suddenly exclaims, holding up his hands. "Not so fast. On three or after three?"

You turn to him and roll eyes as you register the mischievous smirk on his face. You've had this argument so many times.

"Remember that race with Kya and Mez?" He snorts with laughter, "You were so mad!"

"That's because you all cheated!" You argue and you can't believe that over a decade later, that particular defeat still riles you. "Everybody knows when you say on three, that means you go after three."

"No, that's what after three means!" Cal protests, your seriousness surrounding the situation only causing his mirth to increase.

You know he's right, but you were always so competitive back then. You always wanted, needed to win. Master Daylum had tried to temper and hone that determined spirit into something more refined but, even now, you aren't sure that you've even been able to tame that particular fault in your nature.

You remember once in sparring training, you'd thrown down your training saber in annoyance.

"Why are you doing that?!" You yelled at Cal, who was partnering you, storming across to him and shoving him hard in the chest.

You were convinced that he was holding back with his strikes and it was making you irate. You wanted a proper fight otherwise your victory would be hollow.

"Just because you are scared of everything doesn't mean I am!"

You'd stalked off, leaving him with an expression of shock and hurt on his face. Within five minutes, you'd regained your composure and your insides squirmed with the shame and guilt of unjustly embarrassing your friend.

Later that night, you'd snuck into Cal's quarters to apologise. He accepted with his usual good grace and, as you left, you'd placed a chaste peck on his cheek which made his face turn almost as red as his hair.

Cal was always quick to forgive you after that.

"Ok, ok, fine," you concede, bringing your mind back to the present.

You are unable to stop a smile spreading across your face as Cal struggles to stop his chuckling beside you. You'd always found his laughter infectious and nothing seemed to have changed there. Maybe, maybe you can see the funny side now.

"After three then," you say.

You both adopt a low stance in preparation to dart forwards and get the best start possible. You look at each other and grin and Cal starts to count.

"One...two...three..."

Before Cal can say go!, you set off at a blistering pace. You hear a scrabble of boots on loose stones and an indignant shout of hey! behind you as he scrambles into a run after you. From his perch on Cal's shoulder, BD-1 trills a similar reproval.

You laugh, exhilarated. The wind rushes in your face and through your hair as you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can. You feel like a child again. You feel free.

As you push your body harder, you reach into the Force and you sense the strength of Cal's presence, both familiar and new, in tune with yours. Something warm blooms inside you. It's as if a piece of you has been missing all these years.

It's meant to be like this, you think.

Cal is fast but you've always been quicker than him, your nimble frame allowing you to cover the ground like something feline. Even with his new advantage of height and longer legs, there's no way he'll catch you now as you speed towards the pillars and victory.

You raise your arms in triumph as you cross the makeshift finish line. You turn and Cal is right on your tail, BD-1 crouched low on his shoulder as if to be the cause of the least wind resistance possible.

Cal barely slows as he swoops behind you, grabbing you by the waist. You shriek with laughter and he picks you up and spins you around before setting your feet back down on the crumbling flagstones.

"Cheat!" He accuses, but his expression is joyful and his eyes sparkle with glee.

He puts his hands on his knees and folds over in an exaggerated gesture of catching his breath.

"Now you know what it feels like," you counter, and you slump down against the nearest pillar, enjoying the sensation of the cool stone against your back.

Cal joins you so that you are sitting shoulder to shoulder.

"Force, you're still so competitive," he says.

"And you're still such a sore loser."

You stick your tongue out at him and you both laugh.

You suddenly realise how tired you are. You and Cal have been walking and scrambling and clambering across miles of difficult, dangerous terrain for hours. The Temple is mostly in ruin now and so many parts of it have collapsed or caved in, placing obstacle after unexpected obstacle in your path.

"Rest?"

Cal takes a swig of water from his canteen pouch and grins.

"I was hoping you'd say that."

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

10 years ago

"Padawan, your lightsaber!" Master Tapal admonishes as Cal's weapon skids across the floor and plummets into the oblivion of the turbo-lift shaft.

There is an uncharacteristic note of panic in his Master's voice. It causes a spike of fear to pierce through the young Padawan's very soul and makes him more afraid than even the betrayal of the once friendly Clones, the onslaught of blaster fire that seems to come at him from every direction, and the screeching, disorienting cacophony of the Venator's blaring alarms put together.

"Sorry Master!" Cal exclaims as he scrambles onwards and upwards, towards the escape pods feeling vulnerable and helpless without his weapon.

****************************************************

His Master lies dead on the floor before him. As the escape pod gives a terrifying shudder as it disengages from the Venator, Cal throws himself into one of the vessel's seats, fumbling to secure his safety belt.

He wonders what's become of you. The guilt and shame of his failure washes over him anew as he remembers your stricken face as you fell away from his grasp. He wasn't strong enough to help you. If you're dead, it'll be all his fault. Just like his Master.

The young Padawan clutches his Tapal's lightsaber tightly to his chest and squeezes his eyes shut. Finally, he allows himself to let out a wail of despair as he hurtles through space alone towards the planet of Bracca and the unknown.

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

Present Day

Cal is still asleep. You're not sure how - he can't possibly be comfortable. He's lying flat on his back, arms folded across his chest, using a low stone slab as a makeshift pillow.

You have no idea whether the Empire have been successful in their efforts to break through into the Temple and you know you really should get going. But Cal looks so peaceful, you don't want to wake him. Not yet.

Fondly, you examine his face, reacquainting yourself with the constellations of freckles that sit on his nose and cheeks. You still can't get over how grown up he looks. How handsome he's become. The beard gives him a rather dashing appearance.

You wonder how he got that scar across his nose which disappears as it reaches his right cheek then reappears again on his neck. You don't doubt he's got many such marks from his scrapper's life on Bracca.

Deftly, you reach out with the Force. You smile. Elements of his presence feel so familiar to you - Earnest, honest, kind-hearted Cal.

But there is also determinedness, a level headedness, and a self-assuredness you've never felt from him before. You feel a rush of emotion as you realise it reminds you of the steady, secure feeling you used to sense from Master Tapal once you'd stopped being scared of the purple Lasat's outwardly stern demeanour and truly giagantic size.

Whenever you and Cal got into trouble - or, perhaps more accurately, whenever you got Cal into trouble - by sneaking out into the Gardens of the Jedi Temple after hours or some such similar escapade, Master Daylum would almost always lead the reprimand, while Master Tapal would merely observe, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

As an adult, you understand now that the Lasat considered your independent spirit and rebellious nature to be a good balancer for his sometimes overly cautious and uncertain Padawan.

You retrain your mind on Cal. There's something else, something he hides, deep within himself. You realise it's the same bitter collection of feelings that you have struggled with every day since the violent extermination of your Order.

Doubt. Grief. Fear.

You pull back, realising you are teetering on the edge between curiosity and trespass. As if the you have summoned these unpleasant notions to the surface of the sleeping young man's psyche, Cal starts to mumble in his sleep. He twists and jerks as if he's having a terrible nightmare.

You crouch beside him and shake him gently by the shoulder in a desperate attempt to wake him. It takes longer than you would like and as he catapults back into consciousness, he sits bolt upright, his broad shoulders heaving up and down as his breath comes in short, sharp pants.

His eyes flash wildly as he reorients himself and when they finally lock on to yours they blaze with the intensity of green kyber. It's as if he's relieved all over again to see that you are alive.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," he blurts out, "I left you there. I left you on that ship."

"No, Cal" you say softly and you place a hand on his bearded cheek.

You've never blamed him. Not once.

Over the years, you've been unable to quash a secretly harboured shard of resentment towards the Jedi, despite your love for the Order you once called home, your family. As an adult, you started to find yourself doubting the morality and the wisdom of training young children to be weapons and sending them off to war.

Nowadays, for the most part, you are able to reconcile your loyalty to the Order with these criticisms, but the realisation that Cal still perceives what happened on the Venator as some kind of personal failing makes these feelings flare up within you all over again.

"No," you repeat and your tone is firmer now, "we were kids, Cal. We both did what we had to to survive in a situation we should never have had to face.”

Cal shakes his head and looks away.

“Do you ever dream of it? Of the Venator?” he asks, staring into the distance.

“All the time,” you answer truthfully and you smile sadly.

You are relieved to see that when Cal trains his gaze back onto your face, his expression, while still sombre, is less feverish.

"How did you escape?"

"I commandeered a shuttle," you explain, then smirk, "Crashed it, of course. Into a field on Pelka-4."

"That sounds like you," Cal quips, and you are glad when the corners of his mouth twitch upwards.

"I was lucky. A family of farmers found me. They kept me safe, hidden while I healed. I stayed with them for a few years until I managed to find a Rebel cell to join. Been sticking it to the Empire ever since."

You suddenly realise that neither of you have spoken about your lives after the purge until now. You don't know anything about the last ten years of Cal's existence.

"What about you?" You ask.

"Ended up on Bracca," Cal says and he lifts the sleeve of his shirt to display a tattoo on the underside of his right forearm.

It's a worker identification tag and you feel a surge of sympathy for him. Force what a hard life for a kid.

"Scrapper," he continues, "Until, one day, I used the Force to save a friend from a fall. He died anyway when the Inquisitors came for me."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too..." Cal rubs the back of his neck as he continues, "I was working with a team including another Jedi for a while. It's complicated, but we went our separate ways and I've been part of Saw Guerra's operation since."

"You're working for Saw Gerrera?"

"I'm working with Saw Gerrera."

You both look at each other and burst into laughter, knowing that the formidable Rebel warlord himself certainly wouldn't see it that way.

"What does Gerrera want with a Spori data archive?"

"He doesn't," Cal says, "but intel picked up a lot of Imperial activity in the area and I knew that's what they were after. I wanted to take it out the game before they could get to it."

You take the Spori data sphere out of your knapsack again and hold it out towards Cal in your open hand.

"What do we do with it now?"

Cal reaches out and closes your palm around the device.

"If you have somewhere safe for it," he says, his emerald gaze earnest, his voice low and sincere, "You get it there."

************************************

Cal doesn't need to wonder if he's made the right decision in suggesting you take custody of the Spori archive. He's not ready to visit Cere on Jedha, and Saw Gerrera's numerous bases of operations are constantly at risk of Imperial attack. Smaller cells, like yours, are easier to hide, easier to move. More than that, he trusts you completely to keep the sphere safe.

Even as a child, you were the most capable, determined, head-strong person he's ever met. Nothing's changed. You still make him laugh until he cries and he can't believe quite how much he's missed being relentlessly teased by you.

Having you near him again is enchanting. He feels drawn to you, like the invisible chord that has tied you together all of your lives has suddenly been pulled taut and you are being pulled inexorably towards each other.

Despite the circumstances you find yourselves in, Cal is happier with you down here in the dark with you than he's been in years.

And it really is dark down here. And damp. And cold. Squeezing through the Spori service tunnels which seem to be in more and more disrepair the further you go, it is as if there are unnamed things skittering about in the blackness.

Cal tries to put this down to the loose pebbles and stones you both kick up as you make your way through the ruined passageways, but he's not convinced.

He doesn't much like small spaces, but as you make progress down the increasingly narrowing passage in front of him, BD-1 on your shoulder lighting the way, Cal can feel your panic rising in the Force.

He suddenly remembers that you are severely claustrophobic and he scolds himself for forgetting. How could he not remember the night he sat up for hours holding your trembling hand in the Jedi Temple's med bay after your experience on Ilum.

Master Yoda had taken you and Cal with your peers to the ice planet for the ceremonial Gathering, the traditional rite of passage where young Padawans explore the great ice caves to source the kyber crystals with which to construct their lightsabers.

The ritual was always somewhat dangerous, but you'd had a particularly fraught time, falling down an ice crevasse and almost getting stuck between the tightly packed sheets of ice. You were forced to crawl and squeeze your way out in the dark all alone.

You were hours later than everybody else. Cal remembers how he came the closest he'd ever been to disobedient, sneaking away from the pack of Padawans and Master Yoda himself who were waiting by the transport ship outside the caves for your return.

Determined to try and find you himself, Cal made it halfway to the entrance unseen - or so he liked to think - when you finally emerged from the caves, hunched over and limping, but your kyber crystal firmly in hand.

The Jedi Council had been impressed with your perseverance and bravery, but Cal had never quite forgiven them for allowing you to suffer like that.

"This is only getting narrower, Cal," you say, jolting him out of his memories. He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, "Maybe we should go back."

BD-1 lets out a little boop which is almost a scoffing sound.

"It's ok for you, buddy," Cal reminds him patiently, "You're very small."

He hears the droid trill a bashful apology in your ear.

"That's ok, BD-1," you say and the genuine warmth in your voice makes Cal smile. You always had a weakness for cute droids, even when they were cheeky.

"Kriff," you swear softly in front of him as you come to a halt so abrupt he almost crashes into you.

In the dim light, Cal can see that part of the tunnel has collapsed. He watches as BD-1 hops off your back, and scurries into the small opening on the ground. Glad of something to do, the droid proudly scans the terrain and projects the way ahead. It's not blocked and it's not far, but it'll be tight. You'll have to crawl.

Cal places a hand on your shoulder and has to resist the urge to recoil as your fear arcs through the Force and passes through his own body so acutely that it feels like a bolt of electricity.

"I'll go first," he says.

The narrow corridor is barely wide enough for two people. You press yourself as flat as you can against the damp stone wall so that Cal can squeeze past. He raises his arms and rests his palms against the rock either side of your head for balance as he steps cautiously in between and around your feet and legs.

It's intimate, almost awkwardly so. Cal hopes you don't notice the blush he can feel creeping up his neck as he is forced to press his body into yours as he climbs over you. He looks down into your eyes as he passes, raising his eyebrows and tilting his chin upwards in mock flirtation in an attempt to lighten the mood.

He is relieved when you giggle and jab him playfully in the ribs. He can't help but notice that your cheeks have turned a rather fetching shade of pink, no doubt mirroring his own, as BD's torch lamp passes over your face.

Something inside him glows as he realises you feel it too - the ember of something new between you smouldering into life as your shared past collides with the present.

But now, he needs to concentrate. Reluctantly, he brushes aside the giddy feeling you've awakened within him and he reaches into the Force. He inhales then exhales deeply, slowing his racing heart as he focuses on the task in hand. Then, following BD-1's lead, he crouches down and crawls head first into the gap in the stone work.

*************************************************

If your lungs didn't feel so constricted, so full of dust and musty, cloying air, you'd probably scream. When you'd squeezed yourself into the collapsed passageway after Cal, at first you'd been able to crawl on your hands and knees. That was almost tolerable but now... Now you are now flat on your stomach, making painstaking progress by clutching at the rough, stony ground in front of you with your fingers and pulling yourself along like some undead creature in a horror holo novel.

You try to ground yourself in the Force, but just like when you were a child, your panic has severed your connection to it, cut you off from it, leaving you adrift in the painful void of its absence.

Suddenly, you hear the scrabbling of Cal's body and boots against the ground ahead. Before you can register what's happening you are plummeted into darkness, BD-1's headlamp extinguishing without warning.

Oh Force, they've fallen down some crack in the ancient structure, plummeting into oblivion where the earth has swallowed them whole and now you're stuck here in the dark alone with no way forward and no chance of turning around...

The sharp, solid ice - no, this isn't Ilum - rock bites through your clothing, stony shards pressing into your body as your chest expands with your panicked breathing.

"Cal?" You gasp out, then, in a shout that's almost a scream, "Cal?!"

Abruptly, your eyes are assaulted with a white light so bright it dazzles you. You jump and hit your head painfully on the stone ceiling above you. A pair of hands, Cal's hands you realise, reach through the blinding light of BD's torch and you snatch at them wildly as if he might withdraw them and leave you there alone in the dark.

He doesn't. Of course he doesn't. With ease, he pulls you gently through the last little length of the tunnel and up onto your feet where you emerge gasping and wheezing as if you've been held under water.

You throw your arms around Cal's neck in relief, launching yourself at him with such force that he staggers backwards. Once he's regained his footing, he places a hand at the small of your back, drawing you close to him and cradles your head to his chest with the other. His heart beats out a sonorous, steady rhythm and resonates through your own body, slowing your breathing and calming your rattled nerves.

Funny, you always used to be the one to comfort him when you were children.

"I've got you," he whispers gently into your ear, "I've got you."

A passing thought that maybe you should be embarrassed for allowing your fear to overwhelm you like this is discarded almost immediately as Cal places a soft kiss gently on the top of your head.

A feeling of warmth rushes through you. You suddenly realise how safe you feel with him as you press into the warmth of his strong, solid body. You breathe in his old familiar smell which has a new, heady quality to it like clean leather mixed with the oddly pleasant scent of his physical exertions.

"Sorry..." you mumble, finally, into his chest, hoping he can't feel where your panicked tears have rolled unbidden down your cheeks and soaked into the fabric of his shirt, "I was thinking about..."

"Ilum," Cal finishes for you, "I know."

"You remember?" you say, pulling back to look at him.

He smiles kindly.

"I remember."

You shiver. Is it the memory of that icy planet that still chills your bones? No, you decide, it really is cold in here. Although, you realise, the air feels and smells different somehow. Fresher. Sweeter.

Reluctantly, you extricate yourself from Cal's arms and take a look around the Spori chamber you've just put yourself through hell to get to.

Except...you're not in a chamber at all. You're not even inside.

You look upwards and see stars twinkling above you, a million points of light in the darkness. Around you, the roofless, crumbling remains of the Spori Temple stretch raggedly into the inky sky like skeletal fingers.

You think back to when you'd studied the climate of planet and the geographical position of the Temple before setting off on your mission. The ancient structure would certainly be exposed to harsh winds on this northern side, especially in the formidable Spori winter. This part of the Temple has simply not weathered the ravages of time.

In the twilight, you take in the shadowy treeline of a great forest which lays across a meadow of high, fragrant grass which sways gently in the breeze. The tops of far away mountains are illuminated by the ethereal blue light of Spori's twin moons. The natural beauty of the place is magical.

You fill your lungs with beautiful, clean air. You can breathe again. You let out a joyful whoop, throwing your head back and laughing, stretching your hands up into the night sky and spinning round and round in the glorious open landscape.

When you finally stop, you notice that Cal is watching you with an expression of pure delight.

"We did it!" You say breathlessly, coming to rest in front of him and he laughs.

BD-1 hops from foot to foot in front of you, wanting to join in your celebration. You crouch down and scoop the little droid into a tight embrace where he purrs like a Loth cat. After a minute, he hops out of your arms and across to his usual spot on Cal's shoulder.

Cal's face is covered in dirt which runs in dark streaks down his cheeks where rivulets of sweat have trickled their path. You imagine you look similar. Automatically, you reach up and rub at the patch of grime caked above his left eyebrow with your thumb.

Cal brings his hand up to rest against yours as he leans into your touch. His expression is soft and there is a longing in his face so intense that he almost looks lost. You burn with a sudden yearning for him as his gaze flickers between your eyes and your lips.

Something chirps, breaking the spell. Cal reaches into his back pocket to pull out a small data pad.

"The Mantis can pick us up here in the morning," he says, inserting coordinates into the device and transmitting them to his crew, "We can drop you back wherever you need to be if you want a ride?"

Your heart sinks and you can tell by Cal's regretful expression that your face has fallen with it. In your euphoria, you'd almost forgotten that your reunion was probably only temporary.

Cal looks crestfallen by your reaction and you know he must realise that, however unintended, the abrupt shift in tone would have seemed callous to you. You can tell that he is searching for the words to repair the damage - he still has this need to say the right thing.

But it's too late.

"Sure," you reply, and you hate the coldness in your tone.

****************************************

Cal is lying on his side in the grass, somewhat sheltered in the corner of the part of the ruin you'd chosen for your camp. It's little more than a cluster of decaying stones, but it's better than nothing and it keeps the wind at bay. You've built a fire for warmth and placed yourselves at either side of it.

As Cal studies your peaceful face through the leaping, crackling flames, he smiles to himself. You look so beautiful to him, as you always had. Even on your worst days when your temper or your hard-headedness won out, he'd always likened you to a force of nature - a tempest or a forest fire. Something elemental.

The thought of going through another separation from you is unbearable. He curses his thoughtlessness earlier. He was certain that he had just about plucked up the courage to kiss you. Sensing your own feelings through the Force, he was almost sure that you wouldn't have rejected him and he'd certainly been willing to take that chance.

Wallowing in self-pity for this missed opportunity made it impossible to even think about sleep. If only that blasted device hadn't interrupted the moment.

And besides all that inner turmoil, Cal's teeth are chattering so loud in his skull that he's certain they could wake the dead, never mind himself. While softer than the solid rock that had been serving as his bedding recently, the turf beneath him is damp and the chill is seeping through his clothing and into his skin. He is so uncomfortable.

"Cal?"

Just as his eyelids start to droop, he hears you speak his name in a soft, sleepy voice. When he looks across at you, you are sitting up, the firelight dancing across the bright, glassy orbs of your eyes, your hair wild.

Force you look ethereal.

"Are you cold?" You ask.

"Freezing," Cal admits.

"Me too," you pause before saying in a hushed tone that makes Cal's stomach flip, "Come here."

He hesitates for a moment before he does as as he's bid, standing and making his way over to you. Wordlessly, you reach up to him and he takes you hand in his as you guide him to lie at your back and return to your position on your side. He feels a heady thrill when you press yourself into him as he curls his body around your smaller frame.

Cal laces one arm underneath you while the other wraps around your waist, holding you flush against him. You clasp the hand the hand that rests against your stomach in your own. Cal wonders if you can feel his heart slamming against his chest.

"I've missed you," he hears himself blurt out suddenly and he curses inwardly, feeling stupid.

But the temporary embarrassment fades quickly and is replaced by certainty and desire as you bring his hand up to your mouth and trace a trail of kisses across his knuckles with your soft lips.

"I can't lose you again," he continues ardently, "I can't."

Cal brushes a strand of stray hair away from your ear, as if that might allow you to heed his words more clearly.

"You won't," you say firmly, and a new sense of hope blooms inside him for the first time in a long time.

You twist towards him and onto your back, propping yourself up on your elbows to look up into his open, sincere face. Unable to resist any longer, Cal places a hand at the nape of your neck and draws you up into a deep, passionate kiss. His heart sings as your hands fly up to twist in his hair as you move your lips urgently against his.

As you embrace, Cal feels your familiar presence in the Force blossom with something new, something which glows incandescent like a beacon guiding him towards you and only you. Suddenly, every nerve in his body is on fire and, as you move together, he feels as if you are two flames blazing through the very heart of the Galaxy itself.

Only in his dreams did he ever imagine that he would see you again after that awful day on the Venator so long ago. Now, as you lie down together beneath the stars amid the mysterious ruins of the Spori Temple, Cal Kestis promises himself that whatever the future holds, he'll never let you go again.

#cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x you #cal kestis fanfiction

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

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Gray Jedi

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2023!

Fandom: Star Wars

Day 23 Prompt: "No, you won't understand, ever."

Summary: Y/N left the Jedi Order over differences with their teachings and a love for Anakin Skywalker. Now, however, something is wrong with Anakin, and they might be the only one who can stop tradgedy from happening.

Word Count: 2,094

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I'd spent the majority of my life as a Jedi, so I'd heard plenty of Masters utter the phrase "I feel a disturbance in the Force" or some variation of it over the years. I'd even felt a few myself, once or twice. But nothing had ever felt like the looming cloud of dread that hung over me now.

I hadn't been a Jedi for more than a year now, which made the feeling all the stranger. I'd left over a few differences with the Council and their rules, opting to become a Gray Jedi by technicality and a non-Force-user by practice. So the feeling of dark premonition battering me awake from my peaceful sleep was even stranger.

Even having let my connection with the Force fade a bit, I knew enough to not ignore this sign. Especially because the face of my former best friend, Anakin Skywalker, featured in every single flash this vision was giving me.

Anakin had been one of the reasons I'd decided to leave in the first place. Somehow, when I wasn't paying attention, I'd fallen in love with my best friend. And that kind of love was forbidden among the Jedi.

I'd put up with it for a while, for most of the Clone Wars. But finally, when it started to feel like Anakin might have returned my affections, it got to be too much for me. I couldn't have something with him and still be a Jedi. So I'd left.

Anakin had stayed, and I didn't blame him for it one bit. The Jedi were the only family he'd known since his mother, and the only family he had left since her death. I, probably stupidly, had never talked to him about my feelings. What reason would he have had to leave?

I'd been living a new, peaceful life as far away from the war and the Sith and the Jedi as I could get, and it had been going fairly well, all things considered. But now, something was clearly wrong.

I hadn't survived as long as I did in the war by completely ignoring my instincts. So, I grabbed my lightsaber and took off for the Temple, since that would be the best place to talk about my vision and to start finding Anakin.

When I got to the Temple, however, I found it almost deserted. Something was clearly, deeply wrong.

As I stood in the entryway of the place I'd once called home, I felt a harsh shove in the Force, like someone had physically put their hands on me and pushed. I stumbled, taking a few steps in the direction to keep from falling, then decided to keep going. I rested one hand on the hilt of my lightsaber, ready to draw at a moment's notice as I raced through the halls.

To my surprise, the shoving brought me right to one of the most relaxing, comfortable spaces in the Temple. Even more surprising, I found this one full of what must've been every youngling in the Order.

They looked at me questioningly, and I looked back the same way. That violent shoving in the Force had stopped, so what exactly did it want from me? Why had it dragged me here years after I'd left all this behind?

A moment later, I got my answer. The gaze of the younglings shifted from me to a point behind me, and chills went down my spine. I heard a familiar voice say my name, but nothing about his presence in the Force felt familiar.

Slowly, I turned, leaving one had on my saber. With the younglings behind me, I came face to face with Anakin Skywalker, the only man I'd ever loved. And he looked terrible.

His shoulders were hunched, and he held his lightsaber in his hand like he was ready for combat. His hair was a mess, and through the Force, I could almost see a literal cluster of darkness surrounding him. But worst of all, his eyes were yellow. Glowing Sith yellow.

"Anakin..." I breathed, keeping my tone carefully calm like I was talking to a scared animal. "What are you doing?"

"The Jedi have to be destroyed, Y/N. They are corrupt, and working for the downfall of the Republic."

"Anakin, what-"

"They've been keeping things from me my entire life. They're plotting against the Senate. This is the only way to ensure peace."

"Anakin... I understand that you're feeling hurt and angry-"

"No, you won't understand, ever! This is the only way!"

Anakin ignited his lightsaber, pure emotion and anger lacing his tone as he seemed to grow to the point of towering over me and the younglings. I should 've been terrified. Instead, I was feeling some anger of my own.

"You think I don't understand what you're feeling?" I demanded, raising my voice to match Anakin's tone. "You think I don't understand the anger, the betrayal that comes from realizing the Jedi aren't always right? That the thing you grew up with, your family, is enforcing a code that is actively hurting you? Do I need to remind you, Anakin, that I left the Order? A year ago?"

"It's not the same."

"No, it's not. Unlike you, I managed to develop somewhat healthy coping mechanisms and didn't listen to the Chancellor hissing in my ear, the snake."

"You're like the Jedi! You hate him! He's the only one who's been honest with me, who's helped me."

I sighed heavily and rested one hand on my hip. I could still feel the storm of emotions swirling around Anakin, but now I was determined to diffuse it.

"I don't hate the Chancellor Anakin, I just think he's a slimy politician. Ergo, not to be trusted. And usually not the honest type."

Anakin spluttered like he didn't know what to say, so I continued.

"Anakin, listen, I understand feeling angry and fed up with the Jedi. It's why I left! And I really don't mean this as an insult, but since you came to the Temple so late, they were especially terrible at accommodating you and helping you find healthy ways to deal with your emotions. But the Sith are absolutely not the answer either. Their path is an endless cycle of pain, anger, and hurt. You lash out, like you're doing now, in an attempt to stop the hurt. Then you feel more hate, for yourself and for the world rejecting you, as a result of what you did to try to stop the hurt in the first place. And other Sith, whoever it is that dragged you down this path, will manipulate, exploit, and abuse you through that pain to get you to do their bidding. I... I really don't want to see that happen to you, Anakin."

He took a long, long moment to respond, his eyes staring into the distance past me rather than focusing on any one thing. I just waited, trying to project all the warmth and love I'd ever felt for this man to him through the Force. Finally, he turned back to me.

"You don't know who the Sith is?"

"No. I stopped caring, to be totally honest with you, the day I left. I wanted to leave this life and everything that came with it behind."

"So why did you come back?"

I sighed, long and heavy. This was not a conversation I particularly wanted to have, especially not with a bunch of younglings listening in behind me, but it was that or let Anakin fall. The second option wasn't really an option, so that left me with the first.

"I got bodied awake by the Force in the middle of the night after spending a year ignoring it with a premonition that something bad was going to happen, and that I needed to come back here."

"And why did you listen?"

"Well... because you were in the vision, Anakin. I didn't get details, but I did get an overwhelming bad feeling, and I knew you were involved. So... I came back for you."

He narrowed his eyes at me, and I squirmed a little under the intensity of his gaze. There were so many bigger, more important things happening right now than my feelings for Anakin coming to light, but somehow that thought dominated my mind.

"You came back... for me?"

"Yeah, Ani. I mean... ugh, I can't believe I left the Order and now I'm still having to admit this, in the Temple no less." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair, completely removing my hand from the hilt of my lightsaber. I had no desire to fight my way out of this one against Anakin. Then, I used every last ounce of willpower in my body to look the man I loved straight in the eye. "I love you, Anakin. I've loved you for a long, long time. A while ago, I thought maybe you might've felt the same way, but... that doesn't matter. The Jedi Code forbids that kind of love, that kind of loyalty and reliance on another person. But you, and the love for you filling my heart, have always made me happier and stronger than I was without it. I spent a long time trying to square that with the Jedi ideals, and I couldn't. So, for that and other reasons, I left.

"But Ani, for the record, it didn't and doesn't fit with the Sith teachings, either. The Sith have no room for love. Obsession, maybe, but not love. They thrive on hate and anger, and there's no lasting room for those emotions in a loving relationship. Or in a happy existence, for that matter."

"You... love me?"

"Very very much." I gave him the smallest smile, letting as much hope as I could muster shine through. Anakin blinked back at me, his grip on his lightsaber relaxing, and I thought I noticed that cloud of darkness shrinking quite a bit.

I took a deep breath, then held out my hand to Anakin. I'd already come this far, so why not.

"Anakin... come with me. Let's both get the hell out of here, leave the Sith and the Jedi behind. Let them fight their war with their Codes and their restrictions, their lack of love and their hate and their anger, and go make our own, happy lives together somewhere else. I can't pretend to have all the answers, but I've at least had some practice developing healthier strategies for dealing with big feelings than the Jedi ever gave me. Let's go figure out more together."

For a few long, heart-stopping moments, I thought Anakin would refuse. He'd raise his saber, let the darkness win, and end everything right here and now. Then, slowly, he retracted the blade on his lightsaber. The darkness had all but gone now, and the yellow had faded slightly from his eyes. Finally, he nodded and reached for me.

"I love you too. I have for a long time. After you left, I thought I'd never see you again."

I smiled, trying to keep the sadness out of my expression as much as possible as Anakin finally took my hand. Our eyes stayed locked on each other, and I pulled him closer to me.

"Well, it's a good thing I came back then, isn't it?"

Anakin nodded, slowly at first and then much faster as he pulled me the rest of the way to him, wrapping me tight in his arms. I hugged him right back, a warm glow surrounding me and spreading through every part of my body. Who or whatever had shoved me here with the Force seemed to let out a sigh.

"C'mon, Anakin," I said, pulling back gently, just enough to smile at him. "Let's get out of here."

He nodded, a small smile finally working its way onto his own face, and I led him away from the younglings without looking back. I hated to think what might've happened if I hadn't been here, but it didn't matter. It hadn't happened, and now Anakin and I were finally getting a shot at some kind of happy ending.

A disturbance still echoed through the Force as we left the Temple and returned to my ship, but it wasn't the one that had sent me running here. Something strange and terrifying was happening in the galaxy, but now, it was happening without Anakin. Hopefully that would make a difference, and even if it didn't, at least I'd have him by my side for the rest of whatever was to come.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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It’s very funny to read extended lore Star Wars, canon or Legends’, because Leia and Darth Vader are both very similar, at least to deal with.

It’s like, Leia’s plans and Vader’s plans are so similar! “Okay, step one: we draw all of the fire to me. Step two: attack from the sides. Optional step three, if step two doesn’t work: jump on in again.”

The biggest difference is that Leia does not actually want to kill anybody who’s unarmed, like civilians and prisoners, while Vader has already killed the civilians and prisoners while everyone else was thinking about if they should or not. But even in that way, they are similar, if only because both of them are fucking insane and stubborn as fuck. Leia is like “If I die, I will die not killing someone, sucker. Just try to stop me.” Vader is like “On the off chance I die, I will die killing someone. Can’t believe you thought you could stop me.”

My favourite part of Star Wars is posthumously making Leia and Vader act similar. They are both stonecold and accept no criticism and it is very funny that Leia is the Anakin of the group.

Luke, over there in the corner, is the Obi-Wan of the group. He is painfully optimistic, annoyingly optimistic, he the type of person to land a crashed ship and say “another happy landing.” I don’t know how to explain this any better, Obi-Wan and Luke are twinsies, okay, in being optimistic despite the fact that there is a dagger to their throat.

Han is the Padme of the group. No explanation necessary.

I know knee-jerk reaction is to tell me I’m seeing what I want to be there, but on the other hand! Luke and Leia, especially in later comics, are portrayed very often cloaked in darkness. As in, their faces are shadowed and they don’t often step into the light, which is a clear indication that the writers are going “look! Look these are Vader’s kids! Vader’s kids! Look!” which I approve of tenfold and think we should do in all modern media-

Leia specifically though let’s her anger get the best of her rather often actually. Is the best plan really to try and take the guy (who decided to storm a heavily guarded prison and kill all of the prisoners) hostage? No! No that is not the best plan! But, he specifically says he wants Leia to kill him and that the war against the Empire will be lost if Leia had any humanity and Leia takes that as a challenge! at this point, she lets him live out of spite!

The only thing that distracts Leia from her anger is her friends being in trouble. She’s lucky she’s hanging around Luke Skywalker, honestly, or her anger would’ve taken hold of her ten chapters ago and never let her go. If Luke was a bit less of a damsel, Leia would never be distracted, it’s a symbiotic relationship-

Leia is supposed to be like Anakin. By which, I of course mean that Anakin is supposed to be like Leia. And I think they didn’t really have a choice, when it came to characterizing Anakin, but to make him more like Leia.

If they made Anakin act like Luke, Anakin would not have fallen to the Dark Side. This is for one primary reason: Luke slips and slides his way all across the galaxy except for the place where the fighting is actually actively taking place. If Anakin was like Luke, he would’ve gotten lost fifty times during the Clone Wars, inadvertently freed a LOT of people, and been late to all the events he had to witness in order to break.

He would have been late to Mustafar, okay? Obi-Wan and Padme would’ve been standing there for hours, waiting for him to show up. Then, Padme would get fed up and comm him like “Where are you, Ani? I’ve been on Mustafar-“ and he’d be like “Mustafar? Why are you on Mustafar? I’m over in Corellia. Crazy story! Palpatine told me to go murder some younglings, so I tried to do that, but I got distracted when I noticed some ducks that needed help crossing the street. But then, this big Rodian showed up and- well, long story short, the Jedi temple was empty when I got there, but I figured I should probably try and keep this gold pendant out of anyone’s hands-“ “What?” “-so after I spoke to you, I started getting ready to go to Mustafar, you know, to throw it into the lava, but my accelerator exploded and I tailspun my way out until I happened across a pirate ship-“

And it would just continue like that! Luke’s luck is either horrendous or tremendous, no matter how you look at it! That, or the Force is trying to cover his eyes because it doesn’t want its BABY to see anything BAD.

Anakin couldn’t be like Luke. The only choice was to make him more like Leia. More hot-tempered and more the type of person to walk into a firefight with little to no backup. Therefore, Anakin was made like Leia, and Leia, in return, in extraneous fiction, is made more like Anakin and I enjoy it a lot.

Also, my favourite part of the comic so far is: “How are we going to escape [the ship that we are currently destroying and that is floating in lava, Vader]?”

“By leaving the ship.”

Thank YOU, Anakin, your tactician’s brain never rests.

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saggitary · 1 year

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Order 69

I want a fic about the clone wars where everything is the same, except the Kaminoans had a small miscommunication and told Palpatine the Jedi kill order was Order 69 instead of Order 66. Instead of trying to kill their Jedi COs, the clone are now trying to seduce them and sleep with them.

Fun little musings for a few legions if you would like

212th

“The time has come Commander. Execute Order 69.”

“It will be done my lord.” Cody slips his helmet off. “Hey General.”

Obi-Wan looks around in confusion as Careless Whisper begins to play from an unknown source

The rest of the battalion watch as Cody quite literally sweeps their Jedi General off his feet and carry him back into the base

None of them have seen Kenobi that red in the face

“Do we need to... do anything? About the order I mean?” A shiny asks

“I think the Commander has it covered.” Boil responds

327th

“Execute order 69″

“Kriffing finally” Bly responds before shutting off his com

Palpatine stares at the dark com device for a few moments. That was unexpected

The Separatists are cleaned out in record time on Felucia, almost entirely by Commander Bly himself

Aayla didn’t think she had every seen her commander so driven by anything, it truly was impressive

No one sees Bly or their General for a long time when they finally get back to camp

104th

Plo Koon is not with the 104th when the order goes out

He is also in a star fighter and by the time he gets back to the ground the battalion he is with is panicking because Plo Koon isn’t their regular General and Wolffe would kill them

By the time Plo returns to his men the issue has been resolved

157th (Billaba’s Legion)

“Execute order 69″

Grey put away his com device before walking towards his general where she was currently talking to Caleb and Clone Force 99

“Well shall we let them do what they-oh!”

Grey wrapped an arm around Depa’s waist and dropped her into a dip before kissing her

Caleb and the whole of Clone Force 99 stared at the two making out infront of them with either horror or confusion

Echo clapped his hand over Caleb’s eyes

“I can still sense it”

“Sorry kid”

332nd

Ahsoka was very confused, one minute Rex was looking more panicked than she had ever seen him, now…

Now he had calmed down considerably and had begun... flirting with her?

She was very weirded out because it definitely sounded like flirting, why her brother was flirting with her was beyond her

Then Jesse, ever the womanizer, had strutted into the com bay and she had been truly disturbed

As soon as she could she escaped her weird brothers and went to look up the file Rex had said, one about Fives

She called both Rex and Jesse to her location and prompt whacked them both on the head before getting their chips out

Both were extremely horrified that they had tried to flirt with their sister and apologized a lot

Now that Ahsoka knew what was happening she found it really kriffing funny

They quickly spread the word about the chips to the rest of the GAR

501st

As soon as Anakin, freshly fallen to the dark side, marched into the hangar where his men were waiting he felt like something was different

He led his COs to the com table to go over their strategy to attack the temple and to cover all entrances

Appo siddled close, leaning forward to trap Vader against the com table with both his arms

Vader’s mind short circuited and lets just say that the march on the jedi temple did not happen

Morning After

Cody wakes up with Obi-Wan sleeping on his chest and his com blinking at him from the side of the cot

What the kriff did Rex mean by control chips?

#the clone wars #I think it is important for you to know that I was derangly cackling to myself as I wrote this while listening to Careless Whisper #The idea that there was an order on the chips to fuck the jedi #it gives me a few extra years of life #also Rexsoka shippers dni #they are siblings your honor #Anakin is a disaster and I stand by that #do you blame him #Jango Fett and every single on of his clones are smexy #Lets be honest #Depa and Grey are Caleb's parents #Fives his punching the air in the afterlife #I DIED FOR THIS?#Appo saved the entire temple #we thank you for your service sir #the jedi might have to rethink the whole attachment thing after this #many of their members did not put up a fight against their men #commander cody #Obi-Wan Kenobi #codywan #commander bly #aayla secura #plo koon #Commander Wolffe #depa billaba #captain grey #Ahsoka Tano #captain rex #ARC trooper Jesse #sag’s stuff

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larena · 10 months

Text

Wanted to try ranking SWTOR class stories in order of "importance" - how relevant they are to the games overarching ongoing storyline, based on factors like how often aspects of them come up in other class stories, or elsewhere in the story, how easily they flow into the expansions, how important their companions end up being later, etc.

Jedi Knight: This one's undeniable, I think. It's basically the main plot class. Knight kills Vitiate first, deals with a lot of the more important problems on most of the planets they go to. And Kira, Scourge, and T7 all get main character status in the expansions regardless of your class.

Imperial Agent: This one is a tossup with Sith Warrior for me. I can see arguments for either, but Agent wins out imo just because of how far-reaching the Star Cabal is, and, maybe somewhat paradoxically, how relevant *other* class stories are to its story. Kaliyo and especially SCORPIO also end up being pretty important in the expansions, as well as a few other Agent companions and NPCs.

Sith Warrior: You are literally the Emperor's Wrath. The class with the closest direct connection to the Emperor, besides maybe Knight. Again its a tossup for me whether Warrior or Agent are the "A" plot for the Empire storyline, but the Wrath almost single handedly reignites the war for Darth Baras. As well as being a fairly close acquaintance of one of Vitiate's potential successors, Vowrawn. Vette also ends up being fairly important in the expansions, though not as much since Eternal Throne.

Jedi Consular: The Children of the Emperor have only recently become very, very relevant again, and we don't fully know where that plot is going, but I think thats still a compelling argument to put Consular relatively high. None of their companions have been super relevant post-class story besides Nadia on Ossus, but the Rift Alliance does end up feeling like a precursor to the Eternal Alliance, to me.

Sith Inquisitor: This may feel low for Inquisitor, given they become a Dark Council Member but honestly they don't do that much. They're somewhat responsible for the Dark Temple being Like That in the other class stories, and the Silencer Fleet is somewhat important, as well as Moff Pyron. But none of their companions are relevant anywhere else and I don't think the events of their class story are referenced anywhere except some passing name drops of Darth Thanaton. I could realistically rank them lower, but again, they ARE on the Dark Council.

Bounty Hunter: Honestly the remaining three tech classes are hard to rank. But I think BH gets a lot of credit for technically allowing Saresh to rise to power. And not for nothing, a lot of their companions have been relevant in expansions, especially Torian recently. You only get a *lot* of the earlier Mando stuff through BH, which I think also counts for something.

Trooper: I think Trooper mainly gets points for Jorgan being a main character in Fallen Empire. They do a lot of stuff that *feels* important, and General Garza, Rakton, and the Bastion come up elsewhere, but it never feels like there's much impact from the Trooper story overall.

Smuggler: I mean what can I say. I love the Smuggler storyline, and Nok Drayen *is* a member of the Star Cabal, but none of this shit mattered lol. Which is totally thematically appropriate imo, it's at least meant to be a pretty personal story with personal stakes. At least everyone can meet Akaavi and Guss in the expansions.

#swtor #star wars the old republic #swtor spoiler #jedi knight #sith warrior #imperial agent #republic trooper #sith inquisitor #bounty hunter #smuggler #jedi consular

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hellotherekenobi · 1 year

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Like A Living Mirage.

Summary: before everything Obi-Wan hoped in crumbled, he knew you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He just never imagined twin suns in his future.

Word Count: 2,382

A/N: Based on this song & this ask & to the user whose blog was deactivated before I could finish the request. I hope this finds you in another life.

CW/TW: Obi-Wan’s POV; mentions of Order 66, injury, blood, & death; just pure fluff otherwise.

Sunsets where the oranges and pinks melt together into a simmering and radiant red, golden on the skyline.

There are many aspects of life that are beautiful.

Dew-covered viridescent leaves after the rain has poured, soaking into the dirt and enveloping what feels like the entire earth in a rich, refreshing aroma.

Twilight nights when the stars glitter and glow, reflected in the ripples on the lake below like a mirror to the sky.

There is so much beauty in everything, and even more to discover in the unknown. But no beauty compares to you.

Obi-Wan has known since the moment he laid eyes on you that you are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. Growing to know you only added to that beauty, being able to see so much of your personality in your appearance.

It doesn’t matter what you wear, or how you style yourself, he is always going to believe that beauty begins and ends with you. Even your voice is radiant. He’s never truly understood addictions, but he can very well say that he’s addicted to you.

Which makes the separation more painful.

Being both Jedi, you each had your respective roles in the war. It wasn’t pretty and as it closed, it only got worse. Many brave soldiers died and many innocent people, too. Even friends.

With his Jedi duty, Obi-Wan had much weighing down on his shoulders. He had lost his brother, Anakin, to the Dark Side, and the war was lost as well. He had trained and fought and failed, and all that was left was an empty shell of a man who once thought hope was more powerful than anything.

Despite the years and the pain, he tries to keep that hope. Anakin and Padmé’s children—the boy, Luke, and the girl, Leia—were cared for under reliable hands. But Obi-Wan could not sit there and do nothing, so he promised to look after the boy on Tatooine, though his help wasn’t entirely welcomed.

It is not an easy task, which is why he had hoped—there that word is again—that you would be by his side to help him.

That was not the case.

He remembers it all too well, having seen you laid on the marble and cracked floor of the Jedi Temple, flattened under a crumbled structure that once held the ceiling but caved under what most likely was an explosion.

There was blood and soot and dust as far as the eye could see, and he prayed with each shaken breath that you were alive. He had lost his brother, he could not lose another piece of his heart.

The Jedi masters before him must have heard his prayers, as when he kneeled to the floor and grabbed your hand tightly, you had coughed yourself back to consciousness, having fallen under after the impact.

Your battalion had turned on you, as did all the clones during that time. Fortunately, you were assumed dead by them and they had left you there. Obi-Wan fears, even now, that had he been even a few minutes later in finding you, you might have been truly dead.

Come with me, he had spoken to you when you both stumbled down the hallway. Come away with me, just the two of us. But you had turned down his offer. Much like he had Anakin, you had someone important as well and you wanted to find them.

But you promised him that one day you would reunite. One day the two of you would be together since the Order had fallen and there was no devotion left to lean upon. Yes, you would meet him one day and you would give him your heart, just as he gives you his—has given you his—and life would never be spent waiting again.

You promised him and he, ever the patience lover, waited for you.

He still does. Obi-Wan waits for you on sandy hills, in darkened corners in cantinas he’d much rather stay out of but he had a duty and he gave his word. He waits under starlit nights, in the concentration he gives to laborious tasks, in each whisper of your name on his lips when he misses you like the sun misses the moon when it rises.

The most he sees of you are in the mirages early in the morning, or late in the afternoon when the twin suns are especially hot. Glossy and rippling against the land, looking like glass or water. When he’s lonely, he looks out across the mirage and he sees you walking toward him with a smile on your lips as you tell him he ought to be more patient.

But patience is never worn gracefully on a broken heart.

When he opens his mind to the thoughts of you and of the war, of what he left behind and what had fallen before he did, every little mistake comes through. He’s tortured by past actions, past words, and past hesitations.

Had he given his hand to you all those years ago and whisked you both away from everything, would things be different?

He knows things would most likely be worse. Though he torments himself with cruelties of how he is at fault for Anakin’s betrayal, he knows deep down that had he not been there at all then maybe there would be more pain inflicted on the galaxy.

How he wishes the pain would surrender his heart, however. He feels aged more by that than by the years, or the grey hairs now featured on his appearance.

Would you still love him, knowing he’s grown older? Of course, everyone does, but he imagines you would never. Your beauty, your presence, is evergreen and glistening. You could walk into his life with wrinkles and he’ll still believe you as more beautiful than when he saw you last.

How time makes a fool of everyone. He wilts away in Tatooine sand, watching his life unfold to him in dreams. In memories.

“Tell me again,” you smiled at him once on a sunkissed afternoon, sitting on marble steps leading into a natural pond.

He was just a padawan then but you, oh Maker—you were the glow of the sun, heating him up from the inside out. He wanted to spend every day with you when there you both sat waiting for your masters, your boots beside you as you swayed your feet in the water.

His cheeks were rosy when you smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but feel delighted. “You are timeless,”

Your face lit up and you laughed, something heartful and bashful in such a serene way. He wanted to make you laugh like that all the time.

“And lovely,” he continued, teasing further but his words were drenched in honesty. “And divine, and splendid,”

Obi-Wan shuffled closer to where you sat, his arm brushing up against yours and leaning into you as you turned your face away. He hadn’t needed to see it to know you were still smiling at him, still loving the tender words he flourished to you.

“And beautiful,” he whispered next, his hand gently placed upon your shoulder.

“Tell me once more,” you had replied in a similar whisper, turning your face toward him, so close and alluring as your eyes glanced at his mouth.

“You are so beautiful,”

He would have kissed you then, had it not been for your master’s voice reaching you both from the top of the staircase. It was enough to draw you away from him, yet that smile remained bright across your lips which he yearned to know.

“You are a tease, Obi-Wan—” you laughed, standing up from the pond, your feet wet as you dipped down to his level to kiss his cheek. “Never change.”

He promised to stay that way for you and he did, even when times grew tough and challenges turned great. He remained the whimsical boy he was beside the pond that afternoon if only to hear you laugh again like you were both children, not peacekeepers.

Despite the eloquence of training and maturing under the Jedi wing, you two were ever young at heart; constantly teasing and flirting with each other, much to the disapproval of your master. Though he wonders what Qui-Gon would have said about it had he not suffered, living long enough to see the way Obi-Wan’s affections grew for you with the years.

No matter how long it had been, Obi-Wan was always youthful around you. Even when he gained more responsibility in the Order. He felt as if he lived two separate lives, though that was hardly the case. But with the Council, with Anakin, with the soldiers and allies, he was responsible. Around you, he was giddy, romantic, and slightly senseless.

He tried desperately to remain the same when you parted ways, but the truth was that he was anguished. And he let honor fall.

“You promise me, won’t you, Obi-Wan?” Your voice was muffled in his shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around him.

It was one of the few moments he had ever held you in his arms. This time, completely wrapped up in you with his cheek pressed to your temple, and words ebbing from his grieved lips.

“I promise you deeply,” he murmured, holding you tighter. “I will wait until my dying breath. Just promise me that you’ll be there.”

“I will—” you kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth. “I will come back to you, Obi-Wan.”

“Please,” his voice was weak, wilting helplessly. “Please, my love,”

He could not let you go. He was not ready to do so, not when he was alone. But he knew you had a commitment like he once had and he could not hold you from it, no matter how desperately he wanted to be the one you ran to.

Time was melting at the seams as his fingers caressed your face, hooking under your jaw and earlobe, like a man desperate to keep ahold of a precious possession. Your eyes were glossy from tears, but your lips were near. He couldn’t let you go like this.

So, he pleaded. “Kiss me.”

When you leaned forward without any hesitation, as if you were waiting for him to ask you, he felt himself come alive. He sparked bright, gleaming iridescent against your lips. Soft but ardent touches restored his broken hope, giving him more life than anything before him ever did or ever will again.

There he opened his heart to you. He parted his lips and opened his lungs, breathing in your love. It was stronger than anything he’s ever felt before, and he holds onto that feeling—onto the memory of your lips against his own and your fingers wrapped around his robes—when he looks across the horizon, waiting to see you return to him.

One day, you’ll be in his arms again if he just waits.

When you find him, you won’t find Obi-Wan. You’ll find Ben; a worker on Tatooine with no family behind him and none to plan for in the future. You’ll find a man with callouses and scars on his skin, with dusted clothes and lines under his eyes. He won’t be exactly the same, but he hopes you’ll have him.

The wind kicks up the layers of clothes you wear when you walk the distance of the skyline to where he sits, aching on a rock that acts like a surface to perch on, somewhere in the depths of the mirage.

It’s not real, he knows that. You’re not really here. He’s seen your face so many times in this same place in those hopeful wishes of his. Though, this time, you look different from what he’s usually imagined. He’s remembered you in Jedi robes. You’re not wearing them this time.

How the sky could laugh at him when he, for a moment, tips into the belief that he’s not dreaming this time. But that can’t be the case. You’ve promised him and he’s never doubted your word, but surely...

Have you found him yet?

The figure of you keeps walking toward him. You don’t disappear into the mirage like you so often do. Instead, you grow nearer and Obi-Wan imagines something he’s never had before; the sound of your boots scraping across the sand.

And you stop in front of him, and he’s squinting up at you like a fool, and you tug the scarf covering the lower half of your face.

And you speak. “I hope you haven’t sat in the sun all day,”

He sits there silently, still watching you. Still waiting for you to disappear. Then you take another step toward him, reaching out to card gentle fingers through the grey in his hair.

“You’re quite handsome in silver.”

Your touch wakes him up and he slowly takes your hand in his, removing your fingers so happily dancing between auburn and grey strands. Immediately, holding your hand—the feeling of your skin underneath his fingertips—assures him that he’s not dreaming at all.

“My love,” he says breathlessly, pressing dazed lips against your palm.

You come down to your knees, brushing your fingers along his cheeks as you hold his face with both your hands.

“I’m here, Obi-Wan,” you smile at him. “I’m here to stay.”

There’s no stopping it, so Obi-Wan lets himself cry. Tears stream down his cheeks as he kneels down to you, and you wrap your arms around him in a hug that he began to think he might never feel again.

Everything was waiting here for you and now every word you spoke to him rings true. Your promise came to life and he’s come alive again at your touch, feeling for the first time in all the years it’s been that he’s a boy again and you’re the padawan he wanted to make laugh all the time.

Belief in hope is a powerful thing, but belief in the one you love is revitalizing.

And Obi-Wan loves you, ever since he was a boy. He loves you forever. He loves you on into the next life. He loves you as the stars climb the sky, under which he marries you just like he himself promised on a sunkissed afternoon by the pond.

Taglist: @penfullofwordsaheadfullofstories @alwayssleepingforreal @kyber-crystal @immoral-rose @bloodybunnyuwu @nagitokomaeda-onthe-nintendo-ds @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @princessxkenobi @mythandmagik @i-cant-hear-you16 @pradahux @inukako @whyiminlove @cosmicsierra @dxnxdjarxn @voidmalfoy @darthkenobii @iamtracyz @chogisss @nectav @disastereyebags @hellolitty @stareyeddie @liviiii98 @dameronology @overly-obssessed-with-you @onewholikesthings @shadowhuntyi @greeneyedblondie44 @doublesunsets @night-ace @mkr31011

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan imagine #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan fanfic #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi-wan fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagine

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starwarsultimateseriesproject · 2 months

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star wars the phantom revenge

star wars the phantom revenge the original video animation aka ova.

rated t.

summary story: Anakin Skywalker & his temple security force guard aka his Skywalker force team to search for the red doubled bladed lightsaber wielder at the jungle of naboo, he is confuse that name is Darth Maul is behind this letter to him after he got the note by someone to meet someone at the jungle of naboo, he do remember he sense Darth Maul is back to life from the dead, he order his troops to keep searching for someone, but he heard his troops scream & yell from the abandoned building, so he rush to the abandoned building as he was stock to see his squads found dead, then he see the dark hooked figure who turn on his red doubled bladed lightsaber who reveal to be Darth Maul, so Darth Maul mock him as qui gon jinn's only padawan after he kill qui gon jinn at naboo in long time ago, Darth Maul tell Anakin Skywalker to released his anger to fight him to avenge his fallen master, Anakin Skywalker never forget for what Darth Maul done to his master, he has no choices to only to fight Darth Maul alone, well he defeat Darth Maul by let go of his anger or well he will gain anger to kill Darth Maul after mock his master's death.

"Star Wars: The Phantom Revenge" is a thrilling original video animation (OVA) that follows Anakin Skywalker and his Skywalker Force team on a mission to the jungle of Naboo. When Anakin receives a mysterious note summoning him to the jungle, he senses the presence of Darth Maul, the Sith Lord he believed to be dead.

As Anakin and his team search the jungle, they encounter eerie happenings and eventually stumble upon an abandoned building where their fellow guards lie dead. Suddenly, Darth Maul emerges, brandishing his signature red double-bladed lightsaber. He taunts Anakin, reminding him of their past encounter and the death of Anakin's mentor, Qui-Gon Jinn.

Anakin, fueled by rage and a desire for revenge, confronts Darth Maul in a fierce battle. As the two adversaries clash, Anakin grapples with his emotions, torn between his duty as a Jedi and his desire for vengeance.

"Star Wars: The Phantom Revenge" delves into themes of anger, redemption, and the consequences of giving in to dark impulses. Will Anakin be able to overcome his anger and defeat Darth Maul, or will he succumb to the lure of revenge and risk falling to the dark side? The OVA promises intense action, emotional depth, and a gripping showdown between two iconic characters.

#star wars #star wars art #star wars fanart #anakin skywalker #darth maul #qui gon jinn

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thechaoticfanartist · 8 months

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What Almost Happened

Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi was almost happy.

Obi-Wan was happy. The Clone Wars had come to a swift end after the defeat of Grievous. Although nobody had expected that the Chancellor of the Republic had indeed been Darth Sidious. It was thanks to Anakin’s warning and Master Windu’s heroics that he had been brought to swift justice.

After that there had come a difficult transition period - where the Jedi had become far more involved in politics than they should have ever been. Although when the new Chancellor - Chancellor Bail Organa was elected the Jedi were allowed to return to their regular lives. Their lives before The Clone Wars.

Ahsoka had returned to the Order after capturing Maul. Although her training had not been complete so she became a Padawan again under Anakin. After which it did not take long for her to become a Jedi Knight. Obi-Wan even cried at the ceremony, she may have been Anakin’s Padawan, but in a way, she had become a second Padawan to him.

Upon Ahsoka’s knighting, Anakin was promoted to the rank of Master. Although he shocked the entire Order when he had chosen to leave the Jedi instead. He admitted he only stayed longer to finish Ahsoka’s training. So Anakin Skywalker was no longer a Jedi. Instead he had left to be with Senator Amidala and their two children.

Of course, this never stopped Anakin from getting into any of his usual shenanigans that he always got into as a Jedi. Obi-Wan had laughed the first time he had seen one of his antics on the news. He never really changed.

The years passed, and Obi-Wan was happy. There was peace in the galaxy.

His eyes opened and he was not in his room at the Jedi Temple - he was not in the Jedi Temple at all and hardly even a room. His eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness, and his heart even more time. There was no more Jedi Order.

The Clone Wars had ended years ago - but not in the fashion of his dream. The Jedi had been betrayed by the clone troopers they had fought beside for so many years - and Anakin had become a Sith Lord. A Sith Lord that Obi-Wan had slain.

He sat up from his bed - or the rock he had fashioned as such - and ran a hand through his unkempt hair. He looked at the ceiling of his cave as tears began to fill his eyes. A dream of course was better than a nightmare. He preferred the dream to his frequent nightmares of when his men had turned on him - or when he had seen the ruins of his home - and above all, the ones of his fallen brother where he relived his murder of the man he had raised over and over again.

But his nightmares at least were grounded on facts: The 212th had betrayed him, the Jedi Order was gone alongside their home, and Anakin Skywalker was dead.

Dreams on the other hand - dreams were wishes that would never come true. Dreams were the reminders of what had almost happened but never did. His dreams reminded him that they had almost won the war, that the galaxy had almost known peace, and that he had almost been happy. But that had not been the truth. His dreams were never the truth. His nightmares were the truth.

Obi-Wan let the tears fall. He was alone - he had been for years now - and would be so for many more. Nobody was here to see him cry.

His dreams were reminders of the almost. He was almost happy - but that had never come to pass.

Tag List (let me know if you want to be added or removed) : @padme--amygdala @soclonely @mrfandomwars @jgvfhl @starlonkedd @milfspectre1 @togrutanduin @jedi-valjean @one-real-imonkey @traygaming @aiylasdrawings @keoxus @dykerebel @veiled-in-stars @sentineljedi @spicysucculentz @amelia-song-pond @it-was-rose @saturnsokas @thejediprincessqueenofnaboo @veradragonjedi @arrthurpendragon @shrinkthisviolet

#star wars #my writing #obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction

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miseries-mistress · 2 years

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A WISP IN THE WIND | ANAKIN SKYWALKER

Synopsis: With the loss of Ahsoka, you and Anakin are left in turmoil, and amidst the hurricane of your unnavigated emotions, Ahsoka's words take root in your mind, placing the seeds of doubt within the Jedi order.

Warnings: gender-neutral reader, MAJOR CW S5 SPOILERS, angst, lots of angst, no fluff. W/C: 1757

Notes: i wrote this as i finished crying at the end of season 5. you're welcome :) (reposting this shit) (gif by mlmanakin)

star wars masterlist

You stared emptily at your bedside table while Anakin silently moved around the apartment. The tension was palpable, only growing with each passing minute. Finally, he emerged from the bathroom in a loose-fitting shirt, his hair messy from running his hands through it so many times before taking a seat on the bed next to you. His eyes flickered to your glazed stare before he joined you in gazing aimlessly at the floor. The tile was littered with footprints, a couple of garments lying around, nothing genuinely fascinating. However, it gave him room to think about the events that had transpired a couple of hours ago.

Ahsoka was gone.

Leaving the order was not only a massive blow to you but to Anakin. Ahsoka was your best friend. You two fought together, trained together, ate, explored, laughed– you shook your head, dispelling those thoughts to stop yourself from tumbling down that dark train of thought, but the one kept growing in volume and strength as if it was flooding every other thought.

She was right.

The order was far from what it used to be. You used to be able to say that what you did was for the sake of peace, helping others, and aiding the weak, but now you were regarded as an esteemed general who could make impossible choices for the sake of the Republic reaching their dream of winning the war, not as a Jedi who didn't need praise for helping others, offering a hand and protection to those who needed.

Why had the Jedi fallen so far? Most importantly, why had you allowed it to happen?

The Jedi, your family, had strayed from the ideals they once clung to, trading it for war and naming it a step closer to peace. And although you knew the Jedi weren't what they were, excuses for their behavior overwhelmed you. The Jedi are your family, your home. They wouldn't willingly engage in war. It was only due to the circumstances that they had to adapt and change in order to try to preserve the peace.

Amongst it all, you were conflicted.

You depended on the Jedi, clinging to a childish hope that, yes, they changed, but not for the worse because, in a way, you need them. You knew not of anything else besides the order and the Temple. You were nothing without the Jedi, simply drifting through the expansion of life without a purpose or a reason to go on. That dependence kept you from fully committing to the idea that the Jedi might not be the people you once thought they were and considering the possibility of leaving it behind. It was smart of them to make you rely on the Jedi to prevent you from ever abandoning them.

"Do you think she was right?" You broke the silence, raising the question that had been stirring around your thoughts since Ahsoka told you of her departure.

Anakin's head whips around to face you, and your expression makes his breath catch in his throat. It was too much like Ahsoka's when she told him she wasn't coming back. That memory, so raw and vulnerable, made his emotions bubble even closer to the surface.

"She had a point." Anakin found himself saying carefully as if considering his own words. Truth be told, he was lost. Without ahsoka, he was lost. He was the master, yet he found her guiding him, keeping him from trouble and saving him from it. In that moment, he couldn't help but be reminded of his relationship with his mother. It was such an odd comparison that he found himself slightly complexed by it. He was like the parent, his mother; in this situation, he had to let go of who he felt was his child. He had practically raised Ahsoka, and now he had to let go so she could begin her own life outside of him and away from him, just like when Master Qui-Gon had taken him from his mother to start his life away from her and the life he once clung to. And although he knew that she was trading her old life for a better one, he still grasped at the faintest hope that she would be back tomorrow, ready with Rex and the others on another assignment. Just like his mother most likely had been when he left Tatooine's sandy dunes for the sacred Temple's crisp marble.

And now it seemed as if you were considering the idea yourself, and truth be told, that scared him. Anakin knew that he couldn't bear it if he lost you, which was one of the many complicated emotions he had to navigate through in his life as a Jedi. However, being torn apart by different beliefs? Out of all things that never how Anakin thought you two would part.

Anakin's sure that you two wouldn't stop loving each other over your different views, but the distance would be unbearable. He knew that as time passed, you would see less and less of each other. Anakin being constantly ordered across the galaxy would leave you little time to keep the relationship thriving and healthy. You would have to find your own life outside of him to provide for yourself as well. Conflicting schedules, busyness, and exhaustion all spelled disaster for the two of you. Holocalls only can do so much before the distance would inevitably tear you two apart.

It was a terrifying idea, but as much as he hated it, Anakin had no control over your life or actions. He only wished for you to be happy, and if that was outside of the Temple, outside of him, he would be useless to stop it.

"She does," you finally reply, and Anakin realizes how long you two have been trapped in your own thoughts.

"Are you thinking about leaving the order?" The question sucks the air out of your lungs as your eyes find his. Liquid pools of shimmering blue that were his irises were glazed with a type of despair that slowly began to crack your careful facade of the unwavering general.

"I don't know." It was true, you didn't know. There was so much to consider, so many factors that added to this equation you couldn't seem to solve. It all made your head hurt.

"I see." A Lie. Anakin couldn't see how you could even consider leaving the order, the very thing you had been raised upon. Yes, it had its flaws, but so did everything else. He was better off here in the hopes of making lasting changes than abandoning his kin and meticulously constructed life. If he could be a part of ending this war sooner, preventing more lives than necessary from being stolen from it, then he would. Anakin couldn't do anything about the war, but he could try his damn hardest to help those affected by it. Leaving the order would do nothing besides allowing more people to be affected by it.

You leaned your head on Anakin's shoulder, finding the floor once more as Anakin's arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer. Would you really leave the order? Leave Anakin? What good would it do if you left? It's not like the Jedi would miraculously stop behind soldiers, but if you didn't go, you could try to make changes and do something about it.

Anakin. The word trailed softly through your force bond, and Anakin heard your voice cracking, the fear spilling endlessly into your bond. He felt your fear as if it was his own while his grip tensed, emotion building behind his eyes.

My love.

Tears sprang into your eyes at his force signature's gentleness and unspoken words adding to your festering grief. You felt lost for the first time in your life, and you were swamped by the force of it.

Oh, maker. You knew how Ahsoka's departure tore Anakin apart, but how would he be if you left him? What about Obi-Wan? Your friends?

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you nestled your head into the crook of his neck. At first, Anakin tensed his arms stilling around you before he relaxed.

"I'm sorry." You choked on your sob as Anakin's hand came to pull you tighter. You grasped the fabric of his shirt, each sob tearing viciously from your throat as fat tears streaked down your cheeks.

"I'm sorry," you heard him through your sobs, and his utterly defeated voice twisted your heart strings into knots. You listened to his broken cries as he gripped you tighter. You both sobbed in earnest. For ahsoka, for the order, for your love, and all things you couldn't control. Today was a day of recognition, and as heartbreaking as it was, it was a necessary truth followed by an even more critical choice you were now forced to make.

"I can't lose you," he hissed through his tears. "Please don't leave me."

It was selfish of him to make your decision based upon him. He knew it, yet his heart cried for you, his mind twisting around your possible absence from his life.

"I won't," you promised, and you two cried in tandem, your feelings muddled together through your bond.

Today was a day of recognition followed by a vital choice the force faced you with.

On this day of recognition, you realize that you could not live without Anakin's love, devotion, and passion that he embedded into your heart. It was vital to your existence, and as difficult of a truth it might be, you couldn't leave the order. Not while so many counted and depended on you. It was a faraway dream for another time when the war would cease. Then you could run away from the life the council had built for you, make one of your own designs with Anakin, and be eternally free from the shackles of the Jedi order.

The fantasy of being liberated vanished like a whisp in the wind, leaving you with nothing but him, your only grasp at the unattainable freedom you so desperately longed for.

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