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thatforkedroad · 4 months

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Sun-hearted

[ao3] Anakin Skywalker is not human. The people around him try not to think about it.

----

Shmi had always known her son wasn’t like her.

At first, she had assumed that the pregnancy had simply happened without her knowledge. Or that perhaps her mind had blocked out the event — a slave knew better than anyone how the brain killed the past to protect the present, to keep you surviving.

But the more she tried to dig up the memory-that-wasn’t-there, the more she ran through scenarios, the more she realised that nothing that made sense. If it had been… any of her theories, she would have known, there would have been evidence, Watto wouldn’t have been so angry when he found out. Eventually, she realised she had to give up logic alltogether. Anakin’s father was not something knowable to her. He (it?) had been something else. Something impossible.

A miracle.

The theory only grew more convincing as her pregnancy progressed. She began to sense things no human should have been able to. Objects falling before they’d even been knocked. Watto’s bad mood from two rooms away. Her baby’s strong soul, loudly proclaiming it would be a survivor.

She held her new sixth sense dear for those nine months she had it — but not as dearly as she held her baby boy, to whom the sense really belonged. Her darling miracle baby boy, who always knew too much too soon, who read intentions as easily as he read schematics, and whose quick hands and quicker mind did the impossible on Boonta Eve.

Slaves were supposed to cling to their miracles, so few and far between as they were. But a mother was supposed to do what was best for her son, and Anakin was her boy above all else. She let him go, hoping the Jedi would understand and care for his impossibility better than she ever could.

(And as Shmi died, she did not need Anakin’s sixth sense to feel the anger running through his miracle veins. She did not need it to know what would happen next, either.

She knew with all the certainty her slow-beating heart had that her son’s grief would raze the galaxy to ash.)

—

Obi-Wan knew Anakin didn’t fit in with the other younglings and padawans.

He wanted to believe it was just because of the boy’s upbringing, that it was only because he’d grown up in a much crueler, realer world to the others. Or perhaps it was because Anakin was already a padawan or because of how annoyingly easily it was for him to call the Force. Maybe they just heard the Council had tried to reject him. There seemed to be a few hundred thousand reasons that the children of the Temple would consider him an outsider — but one stood out like a sore and mythical thumb.

There was no Chosen One or such thing as a child born of the Force. There was certainly no chance that the other children (even the ones who tried to accept Anakin with open arms) could sense otherness in his blood. He was just like any other Jedi, if a little more reckless.

As Anakin and the other padawans grew, they grew together. He became like well-sewn patch on an old shirt — the difference was there, yes, but only noticeable if you were really looking. It was better for everyone if Obi-Wan stopped looking for the gap, so he did.

Anakin had never seemed to notice it, anyway.

(And as he watched Anakin’s slaughter of the Temple, the hot drowning of dread and horror and nausea was joined by a cold, parasitic realisation. The gap between Anakin and the other Jedi had never grown smaller; Obi-Wan had only grown more blind.

Jedi were taught from a young age that they could not hold or control the Force, that they were to let it flow freely else they would face the consequences. Obi-Wan had been a fool to think that something made of one half Force and one half heartbreak could be held any more than its parent.)

—

Anakin grinned, and Ahsoka felt every clone in the hangar’s mood lift. Ahsoka couldn’t help but smile in return — and then he cracked a joke, and the worry and grief of the battle became a distant, shrouded memory.

It always went like this. They came back from the latest campaign dirtied, injured, and with a tiredness that ached into their very bones. They all wanted nothing more than to eat and sleep and mourn and not talk to anyone for several hours. But then Anakin — still riding the high of a good fight — would clap Ahsoka on the shoulder, make a stupid comment to Rex, and everything would feel fine. Better than fine even.

Morale seemed so reliant on him that if her master was angry or sad or upset, so was the entire ship. When he was in a mood, meditation became impossible, no matter how at peace Ahsoka felt. She once considered that it was more than just moral, more than just his stupid jokes, but she had grown up in the Temple, raised on lessons of a Jedi’s few limits. A single man could not project his emotions onto an army.

Anakin just had a friendly smile, was all.

(And when Maul told her — warned her — of what her master would become, she did not listen. She could not listen. She thought only of his grin, and the sunny sureness in her chest that always accompanied it.

And so she fought for it again.)

—

Rex knew, theoretically, that General Skywalker was human.

He’d seen enough medical scans from Kix (on the unusual occasion that the general submitted to care) to know that Skywalker’s biology was just like any natborn human’s. He didn’t have strange-coloured blood or an extra eye and all his (mostly-intact) organs were in the right places. The records showed that he was completely, one-hundred-percent human.

Theoretically, this made complete sense.

And it made sense he would seem slightly off. Rex had spent the first decade of his life surrounded entirely by his brothers and Kaminoan scientists; his idea of a ‘normal’ person was someone who looked and sounded identical to him, not a tall, barely-tanned Tatooinian with the wrong accent. Even if it hadn’t been, Rex knew Jedi were different from your average natborn. They could do all these crazy things that belonged in storybooks and myths, not the battlefield. Swaying people, moving objects (or clone captains) with their minds, seeing the future — if Rex hadn’t been trained to do so, he wouldn’t have believed a word of it.

But if being a Jedi had been the reason, wouldn’t Rex have noticed the same thing with Commander Tano or General Kenobi? He understood that maybe Commander Tano wasn’t old enough to develop whatever it was General Skywalker had — but Kenobi was older, more trained in the Force. Surely Rex would have noticed the same thing, that same surely-not-quite-human feeling with him?

Maybe he just spent too much time around the General. Maybe this thinking was just a part of having a good natborn friend.

He hoped it was, at least.

(And when Rex heard of the attack on the Temple, he understood his hope was for naught.

He and his brothers weren’t an isolated incident, he knew; Ahsoka had felt the deaths across the galaxy. He had no doubt the clones on the battlefield cut down their generals — who trusted them like they trusted their own right hand, who stood alone in front of a one-thousand strong army — with an alarming ease.

But he heard reports of the Temple, of blue-painted clones massacring all there, and knew they couldn’t have done it alone. Only one Jedi was strong enough to take on a Temple of their own kind and win.)

—

Padmé wondered if her husband was made from the stars themselves.

It seemed like the only explanation, sometimes. How could anything mortal be so beautiful? How could anything born on solid ground hold that much love in its heart? He was impossible. He looked her in the eye and saw right through every mask she wore, saw that all she was at the core was an overworked girl from Naboo — and still beamed like she was the most perfect thing in the galaxy. He loved her for who she was, not what she could do for him nor for the stature of Amidala. That seemed rarer than stardust.

She would see him and her breath would catch with something that had to be more than love. He stood by the window and stared into the Coruscanti night like he could hear every thought in the city-planet, his golden-brown hair catching the edges of the hundred-colour lights. She ought to walk up to him, hold him, tell him she loves him and pepper him with kisses — but all she could do was stare. In those moments, he was perfect and divine, and she could not interrupt them with her mortality.

(And as Padmé lay dying, her life force dragged out by some dark presence, she thought of her star-husband. And she thought of the refugees she had once helped when their sun imploded. It should have been a lesson learnt; stars were beautiful in the night sky, warm in the summer, but dangerous. Able to end entire planets in their own cosmic pain.

Some small part of her knew this when she first said I love you. But she could not listen. She saw only the star-beauty in his eyes and all the love he held in his sun-heart.)

—

Anakin Skywalker had long questioned whether he was human or not.

But as Darth Vader looked down at his mechanical hands, heard his pressurised breathing, and ignored the pain that followed his every half-sedated movement, he found his humanity was no longer a question.

#anakin skywalker #shmi skywalker #obi wan kenobi #ahsoka tano #captain rex #padme amidala #star wars #fic #total write forever

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sylpheoftheforce · 1 year

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In honor of the new fic im writing on AO3 (to be posted later, I just started on it:

The Moment You Fell For The Bad Batch (in my WIP) (FEM!Reader)

Hunter:

Hunter was the first person to welcome you to the batch. He showed you around and helped you find where you fit into the team. He was your rock and your leader and you fell for him slowly through small interactions. Everything from the way he led the team to the way he took care of everyone after a rough mission, his attentiveness drew you to him. He always knew what everyone needed before they needed it. He even, when learning a woman would be joining the team, stocked up on Hormone Regulators and Menstruation Products. He incorporated them into his own pack for missions and made sure they were always accessible to you. The moment that really sold you and made you realise your own feelings was sitting with him in the cockpit of the Marauder treating each others injuries and confiding in each other. His gentleness in both his actions and words touched your soul when he leant you his bandana, a prized possession of his, to wrap up a wound you had even though he knew it would get soaked with blood.

Wrecker:

It wasn’t hard to fall for Wrecker with him being the giant Teddybear of the group. He’s a gentle soul that feels more than he thinks. A lot of people assume that he’s a bit unhinged but you learned that it just came down to him being one of the most passionate people you’ve ever met. He’s easily the most touchy of the group, never shying away from showering everyone with hugs. He shares everything that is his to give without a second thought and loves his personal belongings just as intently as he loves the people around him. The exact moment you fell for him was when he gave you a boost so you could see over a crowd of clones who were watching an intense game of Sabaac between two Jedi even though he’d been injured earlier. You never asked him for help, he just noticed you were a little down because you love Sabaac and wanted to see what it was like for Jedi to play. He even loaned you Lula so “she could see the game too” even though you both knew the only time he loaned her out was to cheer people up.

Crosshair:

You never imagined in a thousand solar cycles that you would fall for Crosshair. You spent more time bickering and he was constantly hurting your feelings with how removed and cold he was towards you. You honestly thought he hated you. It wasn’t until he yelled at you for taking an unnecessary risk during a mission that everything clicked. He hadn’t hated you this entire time, he was worried for your safety. That didn’t brush away all the hurt he had caused but it did explain his actions. You went quiet and waited before calmly exposing that you thought he’d hated you and that if he was concerned for your safety then he needed to find a better way to communicate that. You conceded that you would try to be safer during missions but at the end of the day you were all fighting in a war. After that he went quiet, only letting out an “oh.” before leaving for a bit to think and collect his thoughts. He came back a couple of hours later explaining that he didn’t like that you went into everything without backup and that he felt useless and undervalued by you because he was supposed to protect and cover all of you. He felt like you were going to get hurt because he wasn’t good enough. From there you consistently waited for his backup and showed more faith in him. Everything clicked into place for you when he got hurt protecting you on a mission and you got to save him for a chance, the worry of whether he would die or not eating you alive.

Tech:

Tech was the easiest person for you to figure out on the Marauder. He said what he meant and was very blunt from the get go. You’d spend a lot of time around him listening to him info-dump about whatever he was interested in or focused on at the time. You learned as much as you possibly could from him and he did the same in return. He was always interested in what Holovid you were watching or what you were reading on your datapad. You’d sit there in silence sometimes and other times you’d both talk about your interests. You also learned over time that he conveyed his emotions a lot more through his body language than he did his words. You fell for him when he fell asleep leaning on you one night and you looked at his still open datapad to find out he’d been reading up on a topic you’d mentioned being interested in. You ended up putting his datapad to the side before laying the both of you down and falling asleep in your bunk.

Echo:

Echo was the one who caught you off guard the most. He was a former reg and you thought he’d be fairly predictable. He was anything but and found ways to surprise you everyday. Bantering with him was easy and he was a mix between soft, gentle, and a true leader. His personality complimented everyone’s on the Marauder. He’s the person you get into the most trouble with and he regaled you with stories of his time in the 501st albeit with a bit of a bittersweet tone. He showed unwavering faith in you and trained with you to help you improve. You fell for him after you crashed a speeder that had been shot and it went into flames. Echo pulled you out of the wreckage, his arms wrapping around you assuring you that you were going to be alright. He carried you back to the Marauder, covered by Crosshair, assuring you that you were going to be ok the whole time. While he was resting you for burns and pulling shrapnel out of you, he told you about the crazy stunts that Domino Squad used to pull and how General Skywalker and Commander Tano were never far behind with their own crazy methods. Every time you flinched or whimpered in pain he’d reassure you that you were doing great, that you were safe, that the worst was over. After he was finished treating you, he stayed by your side telling stories until you fell asleep.

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theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 1 year

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Reckless

Pairing: Obi-wan Kenobi x Reader (Ft. Anakin)

Inspiration: Star Wars Episode 2

Warnings: None

Summary: You mediate some tension between Obi-wan and Anakin.

You were in the weapons room working on realigning the kyber crystal inside of your lightsaber after it had been knocked around on the last mission. It was a delicate process that you had finished up and you began to bolt down the outer casing.

The doors opened and Obi-wan walked in, his footsteps thunderous than their usual gait. Silently, he took a seat opposite you and watched as the last of the sparks flew from your lightsaber as it was back in top shape.

You lifted the protective headwear and placed it to the side. Then you rested your elbows against the table top and leaned forward to stare at the man.

“What’s wrong?” You inquired kindly.

Obi-wan smiled and leaned in a little as well. “You’re taking Anakin as your Padawan.” He told you as if it was a long kept secret.

You tilted your head and squinted. There had been no communication from the Jedi Masters about a move so this was certainly Obi-wan being slightly dramatic.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Obi-wan sighed and leaned back, his smile quickly turning into a frown. “Well, I can’t mentor him. He has no intention of listening. And he’s prone to just ‘doing’ and not thinking about the consequences.”

He picked up your lightsaber and examined the hilt. “Nice work, by the way.”

You thanked him and tapped the edge of the table. Flattery worked but it only deflected on the matter that needed attention.

“How can I help?” You offered.

Obi-wan set the weapon down. “Talk to him. Please - just anything that will stop him from being so reckless.”

It was unlike him to plead and you’d be lying if it wasn’t slightly amusing which made a smile bloom on your face.

“I’m being quite serious.”

You stilled the smile and cleared your throat. “Of course.” You chuckled. “I’ll speak to Anakin when he returns. Although I’m not sure that it’ll convince him entirely about jumping out of flying vehicles.”

Obi-wan rest his hand over yours. “But you’ll try, yes?”

To put his mind at ease, you nodded and then took your lightsaber and returned it to the holster on your belt. You took your leave from the room and wandered out into the halls where it was filled with masters and padawan alike.

There wasn’t anything quite like the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. The Force was strong here. You had a fairly free agenda so you chose to wander about the outdoor training grounds. The nature mingled with the skyline was breathtaking. It was a short walk from where you were and you met with a few padawans who were eager to ask you questions on the way.

Once they had what they were after, you walked through the arched doorway on the terrace and noticed that it was currently empty except for someone you hadn’t expected - Anakin.

You made your way over to him and saw that he too was enjoying the view. You had actually taught him to take deep breaths here when he was feeling nervous or worried to clear his mind.

“I thought you were due back a little later today?” You asked, approaching to stand by his side and admired the view.

“Figured I’d get back early to prepare for the next mission.” Anakin replied honestly.

You nodded and figured that you could address his behaviour while you had him around with no prying eyes or ears. “Speaking of missions, how was the last one?”

Anakin’s posture deflated. “My master sent you to talk to me, didn’t he?” He realised and you let out a chuckle.

“Obi-wan doesn’t tell me where to go.” You corrected. “But he did ask to me to speak with you because he’s a little worried.”

There was a sigh from the padawan, he turned to look at you. “I don’t mean to worry him, I just have a different way of doing things. I feel like Obi-wan wants me to do everything his way but I can’t.”

You hummed. Obi-wan did have a small habit of trying to shape the boy into his little mirror. It wasn’t a bad thing but even he sometimes forgot that Anakin wasn’t a puppet.

“I’ll talk to him about that but in the meantime, do you think you could do me a favour and be a little more careful? You and Obi-wan are the closest I have to family and I can’t lose either of you.”

Anakin frowned and shook his head. “You won’t lose me, Y/n. I promise I’ll be more careful.”

Masterlist here

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #obi wan x reader #obi wan kenobi x reader #Obi-wan Kenobi X Reader #obi wan kenobi imagine #obi wan imagine #star wars imagine #star wars x reader

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awritesthings1 · 9 months

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How to Disappear (Chapter 2)

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Summary: You find someone who is in need of you at just the right time.

ao3 link

Searing heat swelled at your toes when you were shaken out of your haze. The smell of thick lava reeked and burned your throat. Squinting your eyes, you raised an arm to bury your face in the crook of the other arm, anything to muffle the sweltering stench. You couldn’t imagine how intimidating Mustafar really was. Not until stretching your head to try peer at the top of a volcano buried among the rocky cliffs; there was more than one.

You didn’t belong here, not when your feet stumbled from each volcanic tremor that passed. The heat was suffocating, and you wanted to pull at your skin to relieve the ache. Nothing was giving enough relief. Itching at your chest, you flinched and pulled away to notice the ash coated beneath tensed fingers. Your robes were ruined, tarnished by burns, tears, and ash. Anxiously you wrapped them tight around your body to protect yourself against the heat.

The hairs on your arm pricked up when you heard wracked coughs. Dread stung like a needle. You blinked back tears, but you weren’t sure if it was from the heat or the anxiety. Behind you a volcano grumbled; dull, deep, and distant. It fell deaf on your ears as you stumbled forward like a ghost. Peering through the smoke, you noticed a boy hunched over on his knees. Sobs shook his body as you watched his back stutter with each gasp. Maybe the heat was eating away at him too. It was overwhelming feeling both relief and fear at his presence. Especially once you noticed his Jedi robes… where was his lightsaber?

Sensing your presence, he had spun to face you, pushing himself away before leaning back on his hands. His blond curls wept with sweat against his forehead. Your eyes followed the trail of a tear as it traced the heavy bags under amber eyes. They were glaring at you with an intensity so thick that made even the Force quiver. His Force presence reeked of guilt, pain and anger. Darkness was pooling through your body like a waterfall. You couldn’t breathe when you felt it wrapping tighter around your chest. He watched you fall onto your hands and knees, doubling over for air.

“What have you done?” You cried out between gasps.

His voice was coarse and broken when he spoke. It was as if he had been screaming for hours.

“Where were you!” he howled.

You didn’t understand, you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think.

“You’re dead! You don’t need to breathe, now answer me!” He commanded.

So you stopped. Your chest lay still and you waited to feel your lungs ache for air, but it never came. Curling your bottom lip into your teeth, you bit back a sob. It was true, you were dead. But your hands weren’t cold, they were warm, and you could feel the heat and you could recall how you had arrived here. You had… you… you were… No. You couldn’t remember. When? Where? How? At the thought, you are drawn back to the boy. How did he know you were dead?

While you collected your thoughts the boy approached slowly until he was towering over you. His head blocked your view of a lava waterfall in the distance, and you were almost grateful. You envied his tan skin, the beads of sweat crowning his head, even the veins on his arms because he was alive. And he looked so beautiful with each rise and fall of his chest, standing so strong and confident despite the roar of flames behind him. His shadow cast over you as you looked up and noticed a blue light cast across the front of his figure. Oh.

Your voice was almost as hoarse as his, “You’re a Jedi aren’t you? Can’t you do something?”

It was dumb, you realise that now. The darkness grew stronger as he knelt next to you. You felt the Force simmering with tension and then you knew, this man was no Jedi. Too much anger, too much darkness, he had done terrible things. His anguish weighed heavily on you through the Force. It made you question why the Force had brought you here. You couldn’t remember. But suddenly he blinked at you, and you felt like a child in comparison to his build. Your legs drew up to your chest and you hugged yourself. You would be afraid if you were alive. His jaw tensed as he stared at you, flickering between both eyes. He was a mess. Covered in tears, dirt, brows pulled tight, eyes leaking, bottom lip quivering.

“I needed you tonight,” he whined through his tears.

He reached forward and pulled you into his arms, burying his head into your shoulder. Something in him had crumbled. The anger was still there but it had rolled into a ball of pain and frustration. He was a knot wound so tight, the fibers were fraying. Trepidation cut like a knife as he had curled a hand so gently into your hair and wrapped another around your waist to press you against his chest. Each tremble, gasp and cry you felt. A chill ran down your spine at the feeling of his tears against your neck. If you used your brain you would’ve pulled away, but buried deep down within the Force, you knew this is where you were meant to be. No matter the darkness and despair that leaked through his edges, there was still good in him.

Against all rational thinking, you twisted your arms behind his back to hook at his shoulders. His hands held tightly onto your robes at that. Even as he came undone in your arms, power coursed through his veins. Every emotion, every clench of his teeth, he was all consuming. Behind you, you could hear the bubbling of lava from the pools down below. If you weren’t focusing you might have missed it because his Force was so loud. You had to fold yours in to drown his out.

“Don’t leave me, not again,” he was pressing his nose into your neck as he shook. “I need you to make it all go away.”

You did not know this man. Maybe he knew you when you were alive. It was probably harder for him than it was for you. In a selfish way, it warmed you. You were wanted, you were missed. Blinking away tears, you let yourself accept his embrace. His breathing had evened out a little, raising his head to meet your eyes. With his breath on your face, you should have recoiled. However, something in you ached as you imagined it was your own. The breath that filled his lungs was tantalizing. A need to bury it in your flesh to savor each exhale. And you could feel it, a gut feeling that there was a part of him you could guide back to the surface. He had fallen so deep beneath the waves, willing letting them carry him to the bottom. But he wasn’t there yet, he still had time. Time you had to spare.

You gently pushed him back with your hands on his chest. He sniffled, letting his arms fall back to his lap dejectedly. You couldn’t ignore the anger, even when it quieted down it rose like a mountain only to collapse from its weight. Hiding within your Force presence, you waited to let him cry all his anger out. Maybe it was the Force, or maybe it was your patience when eventually he seemed to peel the darkness back a bit until you could feel the traces of softness. A faint flicker of light lived, and no fight was won without trying. If only you could carry him into the light. There was too much hate here, he had to leave before that light dies.

“You have to go,” you pleaded.

It all came crashing back. His expression soured and the Force grew heavy.

“No, you can’t leave me!” he grabbed your arms in desperation.

Thick callouses rubbed against your skin. You choked. He was doing it again, drumming away at your Force you had so neatly tucked into your chest. Could he not see you were trying to help him? You felt stuck and needed something to hold onto before he dragged you down with him. Too much to bear, you closed your eyes and let your mind wonder. It trailed off until you could smell the faint scent of wildflowers. You tasted berries; they were bitter but left a sweet aftertaste. Their juices relieved the ache in your throat. A statue of a woman covered in vines bowed beneath the sun. The dreamy sun was warm as it healed your skin into a healthy glow. It was beautiful. You pictured walking through the trees, caressing each color of leaf. Walking through the overgrown grass you saw him. His back was turned but you didn’t need to see him to know. He was happy here.

“Get out of my head,” his voice cracked.

You blinked and you were back. Your mouth hung open, but no words came. He was protecting those memories with a vice lock. There weren’t many beautiful things here and you thought maybe that’s why he needed to live, for those memories. They meant something and he needed to live to keep them alive. It filled you with strength knowing that. You wouldn’t let him shut you out.

Your arm reaches for him, “take my hand, we can walk together.”

He softens at that. Steadily, he trails the backs of his fingers down your forearms to which you bite your lip. One of them is covered by a glove. The way it pressed into your palms, gripping it like a lifeline felt bittersweet. You hadn’t noticed it until now and you think his scars must envy the way you traced over his knuckles. Something felt familiar and you knew that feeling would linger.

A moment passes before you are gently helping him to his feet. He stumbles but you are there to hold him up. His mouth is parted as he observes you. You think he might protest again: he doesn’t. Instead, he… watches. It looks absent and tired, a shell of a man he once was. His blue eyes droop, but he fights to keep them open. He was exhausted, leaning his weight over you for support.

A swell of heat dusted your thoughts into the air. Passing in and out of memory. Time had been patient to you, only now it was calling you back. You know he felt it too. Your phantom light was fighting against the shadows to keep shining. The world spins as the Force drains your energy. Sadness flows through your head although it’s not from you.

He asks with a shuddering breath, “will you come back?”

A sad smile.

“Always.”

#anakin skywalker x reader #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin #hayden christensen #sw anakin #star wars fanfiction #star wars #anakin skywalker x you #anakin #star wars x reader

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vi-does-stuff · 1 year

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It Always Comes Around

Sith!Obi-Wan Kenobi x f!reader

Tags mind control / brainwashing, the extremely dubious consent that comes with that, no y/n

Word count 1.2k

During a meeting, your ship is boarded by someone you haven't seen in a long time. And he's determined to take you with him. For Kinktober day 29: mind control

ao3

Nobody realised that your ship was about to be boarded until it was too late. You’re in the middle of an officers’ meeting when a clone bursts into the room, looking more panicked than any of your men typically do.

“Sir, there’s- we’ve been boarded, couldn’t tell- he just-” You furrow your brows as he takes a deep breath, trying to collect himself. “A man wielding a red lightsaber boarded the ship, sir. He- he killed anyone who stopped him. I barely managed to get away, he-”

He stops suddenly, a choking noise wrenching itself from his throat before he can finish his sentence. Your heart sinks as his hands jump helplessly to his throat, clawing at the invisible pressure there as though he’d be able to do anything. A few seconds pass, and he’s thrown carelessly against the wall as your hand goes to where your lightsaber is clipped at your waist.

“How cruel of him to ruin my surprise…” a voice that makes your heart leap in your chest says. And then- and then- a dead man calmly steps through the door. “But yes. Here I am.”

The hand at the hilt of your lightsaber freezes. “Obi-Wan?”

It can’t be. Obi-Wan died, three years ago at the Battle of Geonosis, and surely he would’ve told you sooner than this if he survived. And- though this man looks and sounds like Obi-Wan, there is no way that Obi-Wan would ever carelessly kill someone — dress in stark white robes, nothing like the usual clothing of the Jedi — look across at you with burning yellow eyes and an unfamiliar expression.

“Have you missed me?”

There’s some kind of wave in the Force that washes over you, one tainted with a deep feeling of wrongness, and you watch as everyone else in the meeting quickly falls unconscious.

“What are you doing here?”

He grins, stepping closer. “Coming to pick you up, of course.” You stand, seeming to remember that you were in the middle of unclipping your saber. You hold it out in front of you, trying to stop your hands from shaking, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. “Is there really any need for that?”

“Was there really any need to kill my men?” you say, taking your stance.

He sighs. “If this is what you want,” he says, and pulls out his own lightsaber. You want to tell him that of course this isn’t what you want, who wants to fight with their best friend-turned lover-turned dead man-turned very much alive Sith, but you need to protect your ship and the people on it. And any resemblance this man has to the one you grew up alongside is appearance-only.

You attack first, and are blocked with ease. He doesn’t even attempt to return the blow, just waits for you to strike again. He does so over and over again, a ridiculous display of arrogance, and it pisses you off. There’s a smirk on his face as he pushes you back several metres, and as you charge forward again, he only says stop.

There’s a power behind those words that catches you off guard, and you find yourself coming to a halt before you can attempt to hit him again. Satisfaction emanates from his Force signature, and you hate that the feeling is beginning to spread to you too — he’s everywhere, and you can’t escape the feeling of him pressing against your own signature. “Good,” he says, and he steps forward, until your faces are closer together than they’ve been in years. “You don’t really want to fight me, do you?”

You take a deep breath. He smells the same, you realise, after all this time, and then you’re slowly shaking your head — no, you don’t want to fight him.

“I didn’t think so.” His voice is softer now, and his hand reaches for yours. It takes hold of your lightsaber hilt, which you hadn’t realised is no longer ignited, and you let him take it. Some deep part of you rebels against the acceptance, you shouldn’t give your only weapon to a Sith, but he seems pleased again when he holds the hilt, and you like when he feels pleased. “I’ll look after that, don’t worry,” he says, tucking it away inside his robes along with his own, and you don’t worry — why would you, when he’s going to look after it for you?

When his hand reaches for yours again, he just holds it in his, and the familiarity of it makes your chest ache. It’s been three years but it’s been no time at all but it’s been a lifetime, and you don’t even consider wrenching your hand away. His other hand comes up to rest at your jaw, and his eyes which were previously looking into yours — the gold of the irises no longer seeming so repulsive to you — drop to your lips. You copy the motion, and are reminded of how soft his beard looks, even after all this time, how much you miss the feeling of it against your skin, how much you want to feel it again.

He obliges. He starts slowly, as though simply reminding himself of how it feels to be so close to you, but he soon grows impatient. His tongue runs across your lower lip, and you open your mouth obediently, and the good feeling in his Force signature only increases. It’s getting hard to think, but you don’t need to think when you have this, the intoxicating feeling of Obi-Wan re-learning your mouth with his tongue, the pleasure that he pushes towards you in the Force.

He bites at your lower lip before pulling away, looking you in the eyes again. His lips are red, slightly swollen, and when you look up into his gaze you can see the need there. You’re sure the expression is reflected on your own face — it’s ridiculous to finally have the years-long absence of this man filled once more — and the whole galaxy narrows down to this miniscule space containing just the two of you.

You feel his fingers take a firmer hold of your hand, and he begins to move. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go back to my ship. We should get out of here.”

“I-” you hesitate for a second, suddenly sure that leaving this room is the wrong thing to do. The sureness lasts only for a second, however, when the pressure on your mind focuses again, and if you couldn’t remember why you should stay before you definitely can’t now. “Yes,” you say, and follow him out of the room.

Walking through the corridor is weird. Through the haze of Obi-Wan, there’s something wholly wrong that he subtly urges you to ignore, and the two of you just keep walking, hand in hand. Every so often, you pass someone lying unconscious on the floor, but your curiosity isn’t enough to make you stop and take a proper look. Obi-Wan is calm, so you are too.

Eventually, you’re led to where his ship has been waiting. It’s small, but should have room for you, and looks ideal for secretive manoeuvres. You’re led up the ramp and into the ship, guided over to sit in the co-pilot’s chair, and Obi-Wan quickly takes off.

You don’t look back at the Star Destroyer once.

thank you for reading! this is the end of kinktober for me, i hope you enjoyed everything i've written for it :)

also i actually rather enjoyed writing this one so please expect a part two at some point

kinktober masterlist » main masterlist

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi #kinktober 2022 #extremely dubious consent #star wars fic #vi does writing

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moon-sang · 2 years

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Reader left the order before it collapsed and became a gray Jedi, reader is scared to tell Din (Djarin) but he finds out when Luke points it out? ♥️♥️ I would be very grateful if u could do this request 🥹

I Am The Grey ~ Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: Your past always seems to get in the way of everything, will it get in the way of you and Din?

Warnings: This is rlly just a little angst, but pls do tell me if I miss anything.

Your past still found a way to haunt you. It chased you wherever you went and left a mark on every place you stayed at. People either hated you or feared you, once they learnt the truth anyway….. that’s why you kept to yourself. Shared nothing about your past… you were a closed book. …..much like your Mandalorian companion.

you had left the Jedi order when you were fifteen years old, realising that the Jedi were also to blame for the war, at a young age. No you weren’t against the Jedi, but you felt that not every decision made from the Jedi was filled with good intention, it seems to you you left at the right time… a few years later the council collapsed. Thousands of Jedi you once knew either died or scattered, hiding themselves from the dark depths of the empire.

You longed to hold the firm hilt of your saber in your hand again, to protect others from the dangers of the galaxy, but you know leaving that life behind was a necessary choice. “Y/n?” The modulated voice breaks you out of your train of thought. Your eyes meet Din’s black, glossy visor. “Mhm” you hum in response. “I feel like I’ve done something to hurt you…..” the Mandalorian pauses for a moment. “You’ve been avoiding me, every time I walk into a room your in you keep your words short and try getting away from me as quick as possible…. I just want…. NEED to know if I’ve done anything.” A small frown pulls at the corner of your lips. “No Din it’s-it’s not you…. It’s me” you whisper the last part. “What?” Din asks, confusion evident in his voice. You sigh… “nothing I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that you’ve hurt me.. you’ve done nothing wrong.” Without a second thought you walk off. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The next few days were rough…. Dark troopers had gotten their hands on the kid, Din was stressed, Ahsoka had refused to train Grogu…. It was all falling apart. On the brighter side you had managed to get aboard Gideon’s ship, Din was determined to get the child back and deep down you knew this mission was just going to work out… but you also felt something was going to be revealed and you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious.

After winning the darksaber from Gideon, and retrieving Grogu, Din was finally at peace again… you could sense it in his aura, his stress levels slowly falling. Though you could also sense something really dark… it even made you feel cold. “Bo check the scanners.” You command in alarm. Katan raises an eyebrow before checking. Her mouth falls agape, her eyes widen, and her hands clench into fists, once the scanners show what is waiting outside for them. Gideon has a slimy smile painted on his face. “Any moment now my dark troopers will come in here and destroy everyone but me and the child” Gideon exclaims, already declaring his ‘victory’. You, however, had plans of your own, if it meant protecting those you really loved, you were ready to share your secret with Din, no matter how scared you were. You were about to use the force to absolutely destroy the dark troopers beyond the door, but you found….. you didn’t have too do anything. Playing on the scanner was a cloaked figure. His hand slowly moved to his belt and unlatched….. a lightsaber. You couldn’t see the colour from the scanner but, you could almost feel the hum of the saber in your chest, you missed your saber….. your master… but you didn’t miss the war, and the death, it had scarred you. Trooper by trooper the Jedi sliced through every dark trooper. Few of them were destroyed with the force. Seeing him brought back memories you would have rather forgotten… like the disappointment in your masters face as you turned your back on him and walked down the stairs of the council chambers. Slowly slowly anxiety crept back up into your stomach again, as the Jedi got closer and closer…. Until he stood just outside the door. You swallow the lump that had grown in your throat and take a deep breath. “Let him in” came the all too familiar modulated voice. Your fingers slightly tremble. “Are you crazy?” Fennec argues. “Just do it.” Din retorts. Your breath almost get’s caught in your throat when the cloaked Jedi comes into your sight. his robotic hand lifts the fabric off of his head, revealing a young human. His hair was the same colour of the sands of Tatooine, his eyes, they reminded you of someone familiar. “I’m Luke Skywalker” Hearing his last name....it was a punch in the gut, and part of you really missed the braveness of Skyguy. You had tuned out in the middle of the conversation, remembering just how cocky and bold your former master was....and all of a sudden your throats dry. “Y/n?” Your head jolts up, meeting those blue eyes you once knew in another man. “I’ve-...Obi-Wan, he’s told me about you.” Luke creases his eyebrows as he talks. Your whole body freezes, and your chest tightens, He was about to reveal your secret not only to Din, but Boba, Fennec, BO, Cara, AND Gideon..... well maybe not Gideon, Din had stunned him before. “My father taught you didn’t he?” Luke questions a light smile gracing his lips. You could feel Din’s gaze on you, shooting daggers through you even.... you can’t even face him right now.... you should have told him. You don’t answer Lukes rhetorical question. “Yeah, you were a great Jedi” You can’t take it anymore you had to say something. “I left the order before the council collapsed.... please.... don’t call me Jedi when I left a year after being assigned a master.” Your e/c orbs finally turn to face Din, and the rest of the crew. This time you look all of them in the eye. “i’m sorry I didn’t tell any of you, especially you Din..... I wanted to, I really did, it’s just....” You look down taking a shaky breath. “My past has gotten in front of everything and everyone I once trusted... I didn’t want to have to let go of someone else.... especially you.” you focus your gaze on Din now. You gently close your eyes and look down. A warm hand rests on your shoulder.... you head whips up, only to face Din’s visor. He leans next to your ear and whispers. “You will never loose me mesh’la, you mean so much to me, and i’m afraid to loose you, you have me... so relax.” His words melted over you and your shoulders relaxed. He pulled away briefly, and looked at Luke. With a small sigh he says.... “now.... about Grogu.”

Hope you like it Ione-23

#Din Djarin x Reader #Din x reader #angst #Mando x Reader #Mando #Mandalorian #Mando x You #Din Djarin x you #Din x you

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valkeakuulas · 2 years

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43 for Fox/Quinlan? Love their dynamic and adore your writing 😊

Awww thank you, my dear Anon!

This is not one of my best I admit as English is not co-operating with me right now. -- -- -- --

43. giving them a piggy-back ride

“ - will need a ride back to the Guard Command Center,” Quinlan finished.

The tiny holo of a Guard saluted him. “Yes, General. We will send a squad to your location at once.”

Turning the holocomm off, Quinlan tucked it inside his tunic as he turned towards Fox. A frown appeared on the Jedi’s face when he saw the Coruscant Commander leaning heavily against the alley wall.

“Is everything alright?” Quinlan asked, trying to think back if Fox had been hit during the little skirmish against the smugglers they had tracked deep into the lower levels.

Fox lifted one arm and made the universal ‘eh’ signal. “One of those bastards got me in the knee and it’s being a real pain in the ass,” the man replied dryly as he patted the hurt leg.

Frown deepening, Quinlan walked to the Commander. “Think you can walk to the extract point?”

The helmet’s vocoder amplified the snort Fox made and he pushed himself upright. “I’ve walked longer distances with a several broken toes. This is nothing.”

“Why the kriff you had to walk with broken toes?” Quinlan demanded, half-horrified before pausing. “You know what? don’t answer to that. I don’t even want to know.”

He didn’t see it but Quinlan could feel in the Force how Fox was giving him the ‘pot, meet kettle’ stare that he often did when Quinlan said something the Commander deemed as stupidly obvious.

Slowly, Fox took a step forward, and the Jedi was disturbingly impressed on how well the other was hiding the pain that must’ve flared the second Fox put any weight on his leg.

But he wasn’t impressed enough to let Fox be stupid.

With two brisk steps, the Jedi closed the distance between the Commander and, before Fox could stop him, grabbed an arm, turning his back to Fox in one smooth spin. Fox’s vocoder didn’t hide his squawk of surprise when Quinlan tugged him off the ground.

Leaning forward, he felt most of Fox’s weight settle against his back and quickly moved his hands to grab the Commander by his thighs. (Quinlan might’ve also used the Force a bit to steady the whole process but that was the moot point right now.)

He felt Fox’s hands scrabble on his tunic before strong arms wrapped around the Jedi’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Fox hissed as Quinlan shifted him a little, feeling Fox’s thighs squeeze him.

“Carrying you. Am not going to let you walk with a busted knee.” He twisted his head to look at Fox, only to realise that the mass of dark locs that made his hair pretty much obscured the Commander’s visor.

Grinning crookedly, Quinlan settled on a rather hasty pace, approaching the mouth of the alley. His eyes spotted the railing that protected passing sentients from falling into the open speeder lanes or the dark abyss below.

“Better hold on, the extraction point is three levels down and we are taking a shortcut.” His grin widened even as the Jedi started half-jogging towards the edge.

“Shortcut? No, you can’t be serious? You kriffing bastard, slow down!”

Quinlan called to the Force, feeling it lighten his senses and telling him there was no danger even as he tightened his hold on the loudly swearing Fox. The Jedi did not fail to notice that Fox did the same, all but clinging onto him now.

“Here we go!”

“I swear to fucking Force, Vos, am going to kill youuuuuu!”

(Fox did not kill him. But he did sulk for a day and hid all Quinlan’s socks in retaliation as well as changed all his kaff into de-kaff.)

(Quinlan thought it was only fair.)

(And he never pulled the same stunt again.)

#asks #Quinlan Vos #Commander Fox #Star Wars: The Clone Wars #askbox writing prompts #valkeakuulas writes AKA butchers English grammar #fanfiction #OTP

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sunlightandsuffering · 7 months

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Adding on to that Jedi/Padawan AU you wrote. I do like the idea that Mikasa was just this stoic, reserved quiet little girl when Eren first took her on as his Padawan. A prodigy in everything and doing everything her master says with the upmost efficiency and obedience.

Due to her reserved nature Eren doesn't really think they're that close or that she cares that much about him for the longest time, since she's very formal with him and just does as she's told. Unaware that everything big or small that he's done for her over the years like training her, protecting her, saving her life, tucking her hair behind her ear, lending her his cloak, telling her she looks pretty, buying her gifts he thinks she'd like. Everything he's done as her master has turned what began as her first, innocent childhood crush into a fiery almost obsessive love for him.

Which is why when she hits the age of 18 and suddenly starts wearing some more revealing jedi outfits and Eren realises how much her body has developed without him realising. And how her once stoic and almost shy personality has now morphed into a cute bratty mess with a needy desire to both please and impress her master while also having his full attention on her at all times. Eren's once cute, quiet little Padawan has turned into a bratty little minx who's just as cute but now also unbearably sexy and annoyingly flirty as well.

She's ironically needier now than when she was young. Not because she needs help but because she wants his attention, his praise and to get the desired reactions out of him so much more now. Her master has been the most important person in her life since he took her under his wing and he's the one who turned her into such a skilled jedi and also caused her awakening as a young woman and she's determined to let him know how grateful she is for that. Even if he does just see her as some bratty kid.

Right!! Like it’s so cute she was so well behaved before but she was just hiding her time, falling in love!!! She took it all to heart and eren is so shook, like he just thought it was his sweet too amazing Padawan but no she’s so much more that’s his future wife lol! I love her falling in love with him over time like every single thing she remembers and eren is like wtf?? 😭I didn’t mean it like that but how could she not fall in love with him?? He’s like barely 5 years older than her, has protected her a hundred times, put his life on the line for her no matter what, trained her to survive even him 😭 how could she not. Be in love??

#jedi em au #jedi eremika

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laz-laz-ace-pilot · 2 years

Text

Across the Stars

…

She didn’t know how long she’d been watching the children playing in the square. By all accounts it had been another successful mission; they had tracked down the man with the intel they needed, she had persuaded him to share it with them, they had even managed to liberate the town before anyone else could be hurt. But they hadn’t managed to save everyone – watching as two girls ran blithely through the still-drying blood to play with their friends, she had to fight to keep her emotions under control.

Those girls shouldn’t have had to see that violence, that pain.

They shouldn’t be so used to it.

Just when she thought she’d seen the worst the galaxy had to offer, the Force managed to surprise her. She knew she shouldn’t question the will of the Council – it had been true that Malastare had been the greater threat, that any more than just her and Rex would have created more problems in the long run. But it had been the ease at which they’d decided it, casting off the lives on this planet in the name of some utilitarian good without a second glance. She understood that that was the nature of war – it just wasn’t the nature of the Jedi.

She hadn’t heard Rex join her on the balcony. She was surprised to see him with his helmet off; she’d come to learn that, after more emotionally taxing missions, the Captain would keep his helmet on. She knew it was to protect his pride – she had no doubt at least some in the GAR would look down on a soldier for crying – but she wished he would let her see, even if it was just to grieve together. Although maybe it was for the best; she wasn’t sure what she could take seeing the pain on that beautiful face, tears in those eyes she loved so well.

No.

She couldn’t think like that. It wasn’t her place- nothing could come from it…

But she could still dream.

“I just got word from the Resolute. They should be here to evacuate us out soon.”

She didn’t have the energy for words, simply nodding appreciatively in Rex’s direction. Sweet Force she was tired; tired of the war, tired of the endless death, tired of pretending she was okay with each passing day. She dared not think of what would come next – the hollow words of congratulations of another mission complete, then the waiting until she was needed again. It made her want to scream. At least she had Kiara – despite the fact she should be nowhere near a battlefield, the Pantoran girl had become an anchor in her darkest moments.

Her and Rex.

“Aria? Can we talk?”

That caught her by surprise; as best she could remember, Rex had only ever called her General. Taking him in properly, Rex looked as tired as she felt; his shoulders sagged from fatigue and dirt still grazed on side of his face from when he’d been thrown to the floor. But it was his eyes that startled her; they shared her grief and her sadness, but there was something burning there, hot and wild. It took her a moment to realise it was concern.

“Sure Rex, what’s the-“

“You didn’t need to run out in front of that kid.”

The bluntness in his voice shocked her; she frowned, suddenly on the defensive.

“I could hardly let him be shot!”

But Rex shook his head and Aria suddenly knew where he was going with this.

“But you didn’t need to run out into a hail of blasterfire to protect him. You could have just jammed the blast door, or pulled him to safety with the Force. It would have been easier even-”

“I guess I just have the wrong instincts for a fight – I’m not a trained soldier like you-“

“Aria please!”

The way he said it tore at her heart like a knife. She had never heard him sound so pained, so desperate. She dared to look up at his face; they were close now, closer than they’d ever been. And in spite of the pain there – the pain she’d caused - Rex was looking at her the way she looked at the beauty of the stars and the life she dreamed of out there. She wanted to argue with that look, wanted to say she wasn’t worth it, wanted to run, to hide. But more than that, she wanted to lean closer, to hold on to Rex and never let go.

She watched as if in slow motion as Rex lifted his hand to her face, gently tucking her hair behind her ear, the side of his thumb brushing her cheek lovingly.

She was frozen in place, embracing the comfort of that single touch and Rex was leaning closer, a blush to his cheeks, his eyes imploring-

“Please… please don’t throw your life away. You don’t see how good you are, how kind, how brilliant! And I-“

The low hum of the approaching LAAT/I cut him off, dust blasted across the square in it’s wake. For a moment, just the slightest moment, Aria had allowed herself to believe what Rex was saying. Had allowed herself to want the rest of what he had to say. But the war had come calling, and she was bound to answer.

“You must be thinking of someone else, Rex. Come on – they’ll be waiting for us.”

Even as she walked away toward the ship, she could feel Rex’s heart breaking at her words. It was almost as painful as her own.

…

Can you tell I love @clone-bar-79s Aria and Rex? Just a small piece for them, set toward the latter part of the Clone Wars.

#jedi aria #captain rex #fanart #fanfiction #clone wars #star wars #writing

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spell-cleaver · 1 year

Text

No. 31 A LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL Comfort | Bedside Vigil | “You can rest now.”

Read it instead on AO3 or on FFN!

The moment Luke rolled aside the stone from the cave entrance, he sensed the reverberations it sent through the whole structure. Artoo whistled nervously beside him.

“It’ll be alright,” Luke soothed. “It’s fine, just a little spooky.”

Artoo replied that Luke was going to get them both crushed.

“That’s what you said about working with Doctor Aphra down in those mines,” he chuckled, lifting his lightsaber as a glowrod as they edged farther down the cave tunnel. “We got some pretty good Jedi stuff out of that, didn’t we? Those texts—”

Sure, if Luke was happy getting literally stabbed in the back by a terrible archaeologist in order to acquire them.

“She’s a very good archaeologist, she’s just a terrible ally.”

That didn’t mean they had to ally with her several times, just to get a silly Jedi artefact. Nor did they have to go into this creepy looking cave right now.

Luke snorted. “You don’t have to, that’s true. You can stay with the ship if you’re scared.”

He was not scared—

“But I heard that one of the oldest surviving Jedi libraries is on this planet, in this cave system, and I’m going to find it.”

Luke was worse than his father.

Luke paused, swallowing. “Am I?” he asked. “Was he stupidly reckless as well?”

Artoo paused, not responding. He just chirped sadly after a minute.

It didn’t matter. Luke didn’t need an answer—he could ask his father the next time he saw him, even if, judging by Ben’s frequency of appearances, that could be years away. He’d got that impression that it took a ridiculous amount of focus and strength to manifest physically in the living world, one that his father probably wouldn’t have gathered in this year since Endor, but…

He had so many questions. About him, about his sister, about his mother. About Artoo! And… he just missed him. He had never had a father before. Sometimes in the last few months he’d thought he recognised a flicker of his presence, but then it was gone.

“Let’s go,” he said, pushing it out of his mind. He needed to focus, if he was going into a mysterious cave system just with Artoo for backup. He couldn’t let himself be distracted. “I’ll push aside that rock as well, and we can get going.”

Artoo made a doubtful noise. Luke rolled his eyes and shoved the rock out of the way with the Force.

The ceiling rumbled. Luke jerked back, snapping his gaze to stare up at it, but too late: it collapse, boulders the size of his astromech tumbling towards him, accompanied by their smaller colleagues. He threw up his hands, tried to draw on the Force, but there was no time—

The rocks stopped just before they flattened him, hovering in mid-air.

Luke opened his eyes and lowered his hands. With a flick of his mind, he deposited the rocks to the ground, out of the way so that Artoo could trundle through. He hadn’t thought he’d be fast enough to catch those. He wasn’t sure it had been him. But it must—and this had happened a few times in the last few months. More than a few. He’d just trained his instincts more thoroughly than even he had realised.

The Force was always there. It always protected him.

“See? We’re fine.” He dusted himself off, ignoring Artoo’s sceptical warble. “Let’s find that library.”

The cave system ran deep, but thankfully it didn’t get too small in places; he could walk, stooped over, and Artoo could roll along beside him bleeping random anecdotes about when he’d gone on a mission and things had gone wrong. Luke hadn’t thought that droids could be programmed to have an imagination as vivid as Artoo’s. “You know that if everyone had starved to death in a cave system ten years ago, you wouldn’t have escaped to tell me about it, right?”

Artoo responded that of course everyone didn’t include the droids. The droids were the smart ones who hadn’t gone into the caves in the first place.

“And yet you know what happened to them,” Luke teased, swinging his lightsaber around when they came to what looked like another dead-end. “Strange. And also strange that you still you followed me in.”

Of course. Luke would definitely die without direct supervision.

“I appreciate your faith.”

Good, because Artoo didn’t believe in many people’s cosmic abilities to have things go wrong for them and still survive, but Luke and his father were two of the most resilient people he had met.

Luke paused. “Thanks,” he said, then busied himself even more thoroughly with examining the dead end. Definitely dead. “We might have to turn around again.”

Hadn’t Luke said that he sensed the right way was this way or some silly Jedi nonsense?

“I did sense that, but…” He lowered his lightsaber. “I still sense that. I don’t know—”

The blaster shot caught him off-guard. He spun around, flinching, but it stopped two inches in front of his nose, the blue rings wobbling in the air. Staring, he could peer through it, the light tinting everything periwinkle, as a figure in a long, shadowy robe jumped out of the wall—a secret passage?—levelled their blaster and fired again.

This one stopped as well. And the second. And the third. They hovered like stars for three, two, one seconds—then they all released at once. Luke ducked; they shattered against the dead end behind him. His lightsaber lit and spun into guard position, deflecting the barrage of stun bolts into the floor, the walls, the ceiling, back at the figure firing at him. He stepped forwards, getting into it, letting the rhythm of the Force guide his movements.

His attacker backed away. They stank of darkness in the Force, like artificial rot, but they weren’t Force-sensitive at all; he couldn’t trace where that darkness came from. They retreated from him slowly, irritably at first, then he closed the distance between them with a fury of green fire and they were backing away much more desperately, their blaster pumping a continuous stream of blue—

He hit them with their own stun bolt. They crumpled to the floor. Before he could deactivate his lightsaber, two more shadowy figures leapt out of the walls. One of them fired more stun bolts at him; he deflected it. The other dived at him but was pulled up short. He barely had the space of mind to spare for them, it wasn’t him doing it, but an invisible force flung them back. They cracked their head on the wall.

Luke flung out his hand. The last figure’s blaster flew into it; he pointed it at them, deactivating his lightsaber. “What is this?” he demanded. “What do you want?”

The figure fell to their knees. “You, Skywalker,” they spat. Luke frowned.

“What—”

A stun blast shattered through his back.

His knees hit the ground. Gasping, he reached for the blaster, his lightsaber, tried to spin around. On trembling legs, he turned to see the dead end he had been puzzling over slide open, to admit another figure, this one in dark robes lined with gold. They pointed their blaster down at him.

Luke lifted his. It was too late. They sent another ring through his skull; his head bounced against the hard floor, and then there was nothing.

When he woke up he was bound to an altar, and his right hand was missing.

“What—” He yanked at the binder holding him there, but it held firm. When he tried to reach for the Force, it was… fractured… and slipped out of his fingers, burning like molten glass. He gritted his teeth and tried again. Every time he did, his chest squeezed until he thought his heart would crumple like aluminium foil. He panted for breath.

The altar he was handcuffed to was such a smooth black stone that it couldn’t be stone at all. He reached out to run his flesh fingers along it, gasping at the cold pinch in his chest. It was obsidian. The surface was so bitingly cold that it seemed to suck the warmth from his skin, his flesh, his blood, dragging it away from his core. He yanked his hand away, but only after several long seconds of trying. The moment he thought about it, something stilled his arm, and he couldn’t make himself do it until he overcame that.

He pushed himself upright, staggering to his feet. It took some of the strain off his arm: the altar was shaped like a birdbath, with a sink at its top, where the other end of his cuff looped into the side and held firm. He leaned on it for a moment, before gasping and instantly regretting it. The cold sucked at the space between his ribs, teeth leaving indents in the bone. He pushed off with his right hand and tried not to look at the red, angry stump there.

“What is this?” he snapped. Then he said it again, louder. “Hey! What the hell is this?”

“A resurrection, Skywalker.” He spun around, as best he could with his hand still chained, and saw that figure with the gold-lined robes standing there, flanked by others. How many of these people were there?

“A resurrection? Whose?” Luke yanked at the chain. “Where’s my hand? Where’s Artoo?”

A shrill shriek answered that question. He glanced around: they had trussed up Artoo in the corner of this wide cavern, nestled between two off-white stalagmites. They formed the crude bars of a cage, keeping him in.

“Who are you?” Luke asked, calming himself down. Staying calm had helped best with the Ewoks. But with the Ewoks, he had had the Force, and here every time he touched it, it seemed to drain away from him.

“TK-578,” the leader replied.

“You’re a stormtrooper?”

“Was a stormtrooper,” he snarled. He stepped closer, drawing a knife from his dark robes. “We all were. Vader was our god.”

Luke blinked. “Oh?” What did his father have to do with this?

“He protected us when no one else did. Now, he is dead, and the Empire has fallen. No one protects us. No one protects the galaxy—no one spreads law and order to where it is needed.”

Luke swallowed. “The Imperial Remnant—”

“Do not jest. They have forsaken us. They care only for petty power, not the men under their command.”

“I know a lot of leaders like that,” Luke said, commiserating, but his mind was whirring. From what he’d heard, Vader hadn’t exactly cared for the men under his command, either. But maybe that was just officers… “I’m sorry. If there’s anything I can do—”

“We need Lord Vader back. You killed him, but that need not be permanent. You have the same magical abilities; we can drain you to reanimate him.” A pause. “Are you afraid, Skywalker?” The tone was mocking. “Your tears betray you.”

Luke chuckled wetly, bitterly. “Oh, they’re not tears of fear.” For one moment, he let himself wish his father was still alive as well. It was a beautiful lie to indulge in. They had never had a conversation that wasn’t overshadowed by violence. “I wish I could bring him back too, you know.”

The lead cultist stilled. “You mock us—” he began.

“I don’t. I wish it hadn’t ended like that.”

“He is almost with us!” the leader shouted, rather than listen to their enemy sound human. “We can feel his presence! The cold that followed him everywhere! We have sacrificed dozens of Force sensitives already on that altar, and you will be the last and most powerful. There is no Jedi library here. We spread that rumour to lead you here!”

Luke’s mouth dropped open.

That was why his search for Jedi students kept running dry?

These bastards kept slaughtering them?

“How many people have you killed?” he demanded. “How many have you sacrificed in this stupid quest—”

“It has been months of work, Skywalker, and it will not be in vain. Vader will return to protect the galaxy—to protect us.” The leader waved his hand sharply. “Bring the armour!”

What?

But there was no denying what it was that they pulled out and assembled on the opposite side of the altar from Luke. He stared at it: grey and ashen, twisted and burnt, but certainly recognisable. They had taken his father’s remains from where he’d burned and buried them on Endor. They had dragged them here for this horror show, disturbing his rest, they had—

“What have you done?”

“We,” the leader said grandly, “have brought about the galaxy’s salvation.” He toyed with the knife of black glass he had pulled out of his robes and held it out to one of his acolytes. “Add his blood to the bowl.”

Luke stared at the knife, then back to his father’s remains. Artoo was shrieking. “You’re going to cut my throat?” he asked, forcing himself not to shriek as well.

“You are the Jedi who killed him. He is almost with us now. It is fitting that yours should be the greatest and final sacrifice.” The leader smiled as his acolyte approached Luke. “Do not fear. It will not be the throat. You will die far more slowly than that.”

The acolyte grabbed Luke’s left hand, his grip cold as Hoth, and raised the knife. But before he could slice down, he started choking.

Luke stared, horrified. “What is this?” he asked, reaching towards him. He stumbled back, grasping for his throat, dropping the knife to the floor. He fell to his knees. “I’m not doing that—”

“He is here!”

The leader whirled around, searching the air as if he could see him. Luke couldn’t deny it; he could feel his father’s presence here, now, as well—cold, familiar, comforting despite those two strikes against it. He wanted to weep.

His father was the one choking him to protect Luke.

His father had been the one—

“Already!” As the acolyte choked out his last breath and fell to the floor, dead, the leader pressed his hand to his chest. “TR-662 clearly displeased him, as so many of those arrogant officers did. He was the one of us highest in line for promotion to officer.”

What the hell? What the actual—

“TX-308, pick up the knife and finish the job.”

Luke didn’t have time to react, and apparently neither did his father, when TX-308 stepped forwards, seized his hand, and slashed it open. Blood splattered the bowl on the altar.

Immediately, Luke fell to his knees, gasping for air. His heart pounded faster and faster. A suction pump fastened over his chest and wrenched, something streaming out of him until his muscles screamed, bending away from the force of it. He fell to his knees again, the chain around his hand pulling taut, yanking. A few ruby droplets of blood scattered outside of the bowl, across his face, across the floor.

Vader’s burned and twisted armour began to twitch.

“It’s working!” one of the acolyte hissed, only to be abruptly silenced by their leader’s gesture. The armour kept twitching, trembling, like lightning was shooting through it all over again, the Emperor making Vader dance to his tune. The durasteel limbs—and stars, Luke hated that they’d dug those up, even if they were intent on bringing his father back couldn’t they give him a better suit—and his mask and his chest box shuddered, rising. It was like someone had picked them up.

It was like someone was reassembling themselves.

The mask came last. The clumsy assemblage of Vader’s metal limbs, armour, suit, and the last remaining scraps of his cape stood up. They weren’t attached: the limbs were only the bottom of his legs and arms, but the Force held them where they should be; he moved as deliberately and inexorably as he had in life as he bent down, placed his mask where his head should be, and the helmet slotted neatly over the top.

When he turned his blank gaze on Luke, there were no eyes behind it. Nothing. Only the dark gaze of the Emperor’s Fist.

Every moment trailed power, energy, life from Luke to him. He thought the Sith ghosts of the galaxy must be grinning.

The leader stepped forwards, shaking, and knelt. In his hands, he held his offering. “Your sabre of light, my lord.”

Luke wanted to cry. He had buried that. He had buried all of this.

Vader turned his mask away from Luke, the motion too smooth to be his father, and looked down at his kneeling apostle. “What… is this?” he asked. His voice didn’t boom; they hadn’t been able to salvage the vocoder, it seemed. “What have you done?”

“Your empire is in shambles, my lord. We knew that you were our only hope. Now that you have been freed of the shackles of death Skywalker bestowed upon you, we can retake the galaxy from the scourge of Rebel scum.” He waved sharply, and all the other acolytes knelt. “We are at your command. The Imperial Remnant would bow before you, once they knew you still lived. You can take back your sabre and strike down the last Jedi, returning order to the galaxy!”

All he had to do was pick up the lightsaber.

Was this Luke’s father? He couldn’t tell. He knew nothing of how resurrection worked, but these were no Force adepts, no experts, and he did know there were far too many Sith ghosts out there for comfort—he and Aphra had run into quite a few. Any of them would be thrilled to be given a new body, thrilled to extinguish the Jedi, thrilled to seize the remains of an empire and make it their own.

Vader took the lightsaber in his charred, twisted metal hand, and Luke bowed his head in defeat. His vision was beginning to go dark, dark red. His head spun. He blinked several times, then gave up and closed his eyes.

“That is not what I meant,” he said.

“We are at your command, my lord. Anything you wish to know, we will tell you.”

The snap-hiss of a lightsaber yanked Luke’s head up again, just in time to see Vader stand there, lit by the crimson light, looming over his lead apostle. The light caught on the gold of the leader’s robes. In the shadows of Luke’s poor sight, it looked exactly what the leader wanted it to be: an apostle swearing fealty to their god.

“What have you done,” Vader asked, and now his voice was booming, “to my son?”

“My lord?” The leader looked up, looked from Vader to where he was staring at Luke—Luke, bent over double on the altar, wheezing his last breaths, too weak to stand.

Vader slashed his lightsaber through his torso. It landed on the ground with a wet thunk.

The acolytes started screaming, but Vader had no time for dramatics, for once. He stalked forwards and beheaded them, one by one. It was over in less than a minute.

“Luke.”

Luke’s vision was still unclear, but that was because he was crying properly, now. “Father,” he croaked.

Vader severed his binders, deactivated his lightsaber, and rested a ruined hand on his head, the gesture too gentle to be from anyone but him. “Luke,” he said again.

“It was you—the whole time, you—” He hiccupped. Strength was fleeing him, but he needed to say— he needed to say—“They brought you back months ago. You’ve been forced to waste your energy manifesting like this. And you spent it to hang around protecting me.”

Vader’s thumb stroked Luke’s sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “Where else would I be?”

“I miss you.”

“You have never known me.”

“I have missed you every day of my life.”

“And I am here,” his father replied. “I always will be. Even when I do not have the strength to tell you that in words.”

“I’ve missed you,” Luke said again, then choked. His heartbeat was growing agonisingly slow.

Vader looked like he almost drew back, but couldn’t bring himself to let go of Luke. “You know that I must leave.”

Luke was dying. Of course Vader couldn’t stay without consequences. But for one stupid moment, Luke considered it worth it for these precious moments.

They never had managed to have a conversation without war or death hanging over their heads. This time was no different.

“I will see you again soon, Luke,” Vader promised. “This is not a goodbye.”

It felt like one.

“You can rest now,” Luke said. “I’m sorry they disturbed you. You can rest now.” He sucked in a shaking breath… and smiled. “I’ll be alright.”

Vader rested his hand on Luke’s cheek, and then he was gone. His armour collapsed into pieces. His mask bounced across the floor, staring up at the ceiling.

Life flooded back into Luke, crystal clear and intense as his first time touching snow crystals on Hoth. He could not stand up. He lay there at the foot of the altar, his own blood dripping from its bowl, listening to Artoo’s mournful beeps, and tried to find the strength to handle losing his father all over again.

#whumptober #whumptober 2022 #my writing #random words on a page #luke skywalker #darth vader #for darkness shows the stars

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elendiliel · 2 years

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Duty Before Feelings

This follows on almost directly from this fic, and probably makes far more sense having read that one first.

---

“Well, I hope there’s a ship there we can steal,” Echo admitted. The Bad Batch weren’t best pleased by the idea that the “reg’s” plan wasn’t as airtight as they might have expected, but the rest of the rescue party were used to it. Echo had a gift for strategy and tactics, but he also excelled at improvisation, as did his twin Fives. No wonder they ended up in the 501st, then with me, his formal commander General Helli Abbasa – Hel for short – thought. In the 212th, they’d have been bored stiff or constantly on fizzers. But Anakin and I are also “wing and a prayer” types.

Wings would have been useful just then. Echo was proposing that they walk across a fairly narrow pipe that ran between two parts of the Techno Union’s cloud-level facility, Purkoll, where he had been imprisoned until earlier that day, to a landing platform where they might or might not find some transport. Hel wasn’t wild about the idea, and nor, in particular, was the Batch’s brawler and demo man Wrecker. He’d confessed already that he had a “problem with gravity” when up high. Hel knew the feeling.

“Try fixing your eyes on something straight ahead of you,” she advised the enhanced clone quietly as Echo asked the others whether they had any alternative suggestions, and drew a blank. “I find it helps with both balance and any nerves.”

She sensed his astonishment as he read the subtext and realised that she – a Jedi, said to be fearless – was scared of heights, but all he said was, “Thanks.” Presumably he could also tell that she was in no mood for discussions about anything but their present situation. She’d been right; there was more between his ears than he generally let on.

In any case, there was no time for discussions; the Techno Union’s droids might catch up to them at any moment. Anakin Skywalker, the team CO, insisted on leading the way, as usual; Echo was right behind him, shadowed by Fives, who had been practically glued to his long-lost twin’s side since finding him in a stasis pod, wired in to the TU’s computers. Captain Rex followed his most troublesome ARCs; the Bad Batch trailed behind him, then the rest of Hel’s team, Lightning Squadron. Hel herself brought up the rear, her Force-senses alert for any pursuers, her eyes fixed on a single point on the structure ahead – not, somehow, on her fiancé, Sergeant Torrent, directly in front of her. “Off duty”, she could barely keep her gaze away from him, but it was proving surprisingly easy to focus on the mission at hand – so far.

Which was just as well. Perhaps a third of the way to the other side, she sensed danger behind them, and turned to face it, elegant and efficient as a dancer. Great. More droids – the spindly winged androids the TU seemed to favour. None too bright, given that they weren’t using their wings to surround the Republic party, but armed and dangerous. And there were more up ahead, as Anakin quickly reported. Both Jedi instinctively drew their lightsabres, deflecting incoming fire away from the clones between them, but the team was trapped.

“I can’t get a clear shot!,” Fives called from the other end of the line. Of course; Anakin and Echo were in the way, and couldn’t move much without losing balance and falling. Torrent had the same problem. On the ground, this would have been easy for him and Hel; the classic sword-and-shield manoeuvre was second nature to them. But in that situation, she couldn’t dodge his shots, protect him and stay upright all at the same time, even if the recoil didn’t wreck his balance. They needed another plan.

Anakin asked for one before she could, and Tech, the Batch’s brain-on-legs, provided it. He played a recording that attracted a whole flock of the flying reptiles which had attacked them when they arrived on Skako Minor. They’d make pretty good evac craft, Hel conceded; as fast as a gunship and with much better handling, even if they were their own, independent-minded pilots. One by one, Anakin and the clones jumped onto the lizards’ backs, mostly two to a reptile, though Anakin had one to himself, until only Torrent and Hel were left.

“Go,” Hel said when her cyare hesitated. “I’ll be right behind you.”

For a moment, she thought he might insist on staying despite the laser storm still raging around them (thank goodness those droids were as bad at shooting as standard B1s), or take her with him, but he did as she asked, no doubt aware that she’d have no qualms about pulling rank or even using force to protect both him and – though he didn’t know her new plan – the others. She waited just long enough to be sure he’d made it safely to a living LAAT before moving crabwise as fast as she dared to the middle of the pipe. It had no support struts that she could see; with any luck, it would behave like a standard bridge or any other arch. And droids were pouring onto it from both ends. Good.

She had a lightsabre in each hand now, her own and her late best friend’s; the moment she was in position, while the lizards were still near enough, she extended Nahdar’s sabre and one blade of hers to their full lengths, raising their power to maximum, and brought them down on the pipe either side of her, carving through the metal as though it were cheese. As she had expected, the effect was like removing the keystone of an arch. While the buildings either side stayed up, held in place by other connections, the two pieces of pipe yielded to gravity, tipping the droids off. They clattered into one another, fighting to engage their wings in the suddenly crowded airspace, ignoring the Jedi falling with them, parallel to the ground, her limbs extended to increase air resistance and reduce her terminal velocity, braced to use the Force to cushion her fall.

As it turned out, that wasn’t necessary. Strong, armoured, orange-painted (except for the left vambrace) arms closed around her waist, pulling her in to sit side-saddle-fashion on a reptile’s back, in front of its other passenger. As she wrapped her own arms around her rescuer, she still felt as though she were falling, but from a gunship in the seconds before her ascension cable went taut, at the beginning of a mission, a feeling both exhilarating and terrifying. No wonder it was called falling in love.

“Is part of your calling giving me as many heart attacks as possible?,” Torrent asked, more affectionately than angrily. Hel suddenly wanted to pull his helmet off and see his face – and probably kiss him – but there were still plenty of droids around, and the ones that hadn’t been damaged in collisions were regaining control. She couldn’t take that risk.

“Not directly,” she replied. “I’d have managed by myself, but I’m very grateful for your help.”

“It’s not just me you should thank.” Torrent reached around her to scratch the lizard on the back of its head, as he would a massiff. “This one decided to come back for you. Maybe it sensed that that was what I wanted.”

He was half-joking, but Hel put her own hand on the reptile’s head, questing for its mind through the Force. “Maybe it did. This is ‘Ro’s area, not mine, as you know, but I think they might be empathic.”

“That makes as much sense as anything where the Force is concerned.” Torrent was an intensely practical man, focused on what he could directly experience, which didn’t include the Force, but he accepted it as being important to his cyar’ika. And he’d seen its effects plenty of times, having served under Master Kenobi before being assigned to Lightning Squadron, which was technically part of Anakin’s legion. He didn’t try to understand it; he just rolled with it. (Privately, Hel thought that was the wisest course of action; the Force could take even the most experienced Jedi Masters by surprise.)

The lizard soon caught up with the rest of its flock, outflying the droids with ease. Clearly they’d all had plenty of practice at evading the foreign intruders. By the time they landed back at the Poletec village the Republic party had visited earlier in the mission, their pursuers were nowhere to be seen.

The Poletecs were, quite reasonably, annoyed that the off-worlders had returned after giving their word that they would leave after rescuing Echo, but Rex and Fives persuaded them – with the help of Tech’s skills as an interpreter and Echo as an example of what they were up against – to turn their anger towards the Separatists, the TU and Wat Tambor in particular, and against the droids Tambor had just sent to track them down. (The advance party were easily driven off, but they’d surely take their findings back to their base.) Both men were still furious about their brother’s maltreatment. So was Hel. The usually-banked flame of righteous anger that always burned in her hadn’t quite been quenched when she destroyed the device Tambor had sent after them in Purkoll (Echo called it an organic decimator); she needed either a few hours in meditation or something to fight.

There would be plenty of the latter to go around very soon, although Anakin insisted that Hel should stay with Crosshair and Echo on a promontory above the village while the rest of the party joined the Poletec warriors in an ambush on the ground. She just bit back a remark about not needing to be mollycoddled, aware that Echo might take it amiss (he’d have been stationed alongside Fives if he’d been fit for close-quarters combat). It did make an amount of sense; she knew Echo even better than Anakin did and vice versa, and her two lightsabres, one a dual-blade, made for a better defence than Anakin’s single blade or even Fives’ sabre, which had two extra crossguard blades. Fives would be with the main assault, and made his twin and his sister promise to look after each other, though both he and Torrent (who would have done the same had Fives not beaten him to it) surely knew that was unnecessary. They were vod’ikase; they would always protect one another wherever possible.

The droids arrived just after sundown, and found the village apparently deserted – until Wrecker sent a boulder their way, crushing a few clankers and scattering the rest. The Poletecs, clones and Jedi seized the opportunity to counterattack. From her perch, Hel could see Anakin’s bright blue lightsabre and Fives’ cobalt blade slicing through both darkness and droids as they led the charge alongside the Poletec chieftain, even as she blocked every attempt to dislodge the snipers from their nest. Crosshair’s marksmanship was flawless, and Echo’s well up to his usual standard, even after months in cryo, using only his left hand and with a borrowed blaster (Fives’). One tinnie after another fell from the sky, not destroyed but too damaged to pose a threat.

“You’ve got pretty good with that third blade,” Echo remarked during a momentary lull in the laser storm. He’d been there when she reclaimed Dar’s sabre from his killer, General Grievous, but she hadn’t used it much until long after his capture.

“Thanks.” Hel batted away a few more incoming bolts. “Being CB for a couple of months gave me plenty of time to work on my Jar’Kai.” She knew Fives had filled him in on recent events, including her near-death experience at the hands of Chancellor Palpatine. She still wasn’t fully healed, but Master Che had declared her fit for duty, and she could be quite hard to please where her patients’ health was concerned. Alongside regular physiotherapy, Hel had used the recovery time to practise two-lightsabre combat, Jar’Kai; the asymmetry involved in using three blades at once had proved an interesting challenge.

There was no time to continue the conversation; the D-wing droids, as Echo called them, had been joined by a couple of octuptarra magna tri-droids, the deadliest weapons in the TU’s arsenal. Try as they might, the snipers couldn’t stop the virus droids making landfall and starting to turn the tide of the battle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crosshair, outwardly the least friendly of the Batch, putting a comforting hand on Echo’s shoulder, and smiled to herself. Not as tough as you pretend, are you, burc’ya?

Then her attention was stolen by Anakin calling her commlink. “Helli, we need to take down those walkers, fast. Do you want to deal with the one nearer you, or shall we?”

Hel spared a moment to check that the data spike she’d need for her standard plan was in her belt. “I’ll do it. Concentrate on the other.” Waiting only long enough for Anakin to acknowledge her instructions, she jumped across to the top of the closer tri-droid, attaching an ascension cable and abseiling down to where, for some reason, the TU still put an access port. No time to immobilise the droid; she’d have to slice into its systems straight away. The port was covered and the cover electronically locked, but a code cylinder soon took care of that, and the computer virus on the data spike caused a temporary shutdown of the droid’s brain within seconds of her inserting it into the port.

While she waited for it to reboot, she sensed, then saw, a D-wing aiming at Torrent, who was looking the other way. Without thinking, she seized control of it through the Force, tearing its limbs out of their sockets and dropping the pieces of useless, probably complaining clanker on the ground.

“You scare me sometimes, Helli,” Anakin commented over comms.

“I scare myself sometimes,” she admitted, just as the confused virus droid on which she was standing came back online and the other collapsed, thanks to the rest of the Republic party. Hers wasn’t as friendly or as chatty as Bruce, the first tri-droid she had reprogrammed, but he was willing to lift her back up to her post before striding off into the hills, away from both the Poletecs and his former masters, happy to be alone for once.

The D-wings retreated within a minute after that, bright enough to realise that they didn’t stand a chance without the walkers. Hel raced back to ground level, running straight to Torrent, who had just taken his helmet off when she threw her arms around him, a gesture he reciprocated in full. They kissed without even thinking about it, not out of passion but out of sheer joy at seeing one another alive and unscathed.

“Hey, enough of that, you two!,” Anakin called. “We’ve still got work to do.”

“He’s one to talk,” Hel just heard Fives comment to Echo, who had greeted his twin just as joyfully (though with a brotherly keldabe, not a lover’s kiss). Pushing aside her curiosity, Hel reluctantly let go of Torrent as they both turned their attention to tending the wounded and, if the Poletecs wanted them to do so, fixing the damage the droids had caused. (Beginning, in Hel’s case at least, by asking Tech for a copy of his translation software; she did not like working through an interpreter, and couldn’t compel someone to stay alive long enough for a medic to stabilise them with a language barrier in the way.) Well, that could have gone worse. Despite the strength of their feelings for one another, they had, for the most part, put their duties first, and everyone was better off for that.

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Mando'a glossary:

Cyare: beloved.

Cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart.

Vod'ikase: dear siblings/sisters/brothers.

Burc'ya: friend, "mate".

In British Army slang, to be "on a fizzer" means (or perhaps used to mean; my sources are all a few decades old) to be on a charge, which may lead to the person in question being "on jankers" (punished), CB (confined to barracks) or even "in close tack" (imprisoned). (And just for completeness, at this stage when I refer to Hel and Torrent as lovers I simply mean that they're in love with each other.)

#star wars #the clone wars #echo #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #jedi oc #original jedi character #wrecker #fives #clone trooper fives #arc trooper fives #original clone characters #clone trooper oc #anakin skywalker #fanfic #healing au

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theshadyrodian · 6 months

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okay, so i’ve been replaying dragon age origins for the umpteenth time, and as i’m engaging with fan -made art/characterisations, as well as also being involved in the baldurs gate 3 fandom, there are a few things i’d love to add to people’s ideas and characterisations. this also includes kotor 1/2, because i can’t ever not think about those games.

bewarned for spoilers of the aforementioned games ahead!

things that need to be considered by fans of media when making any characterisations, headcanons, fan fiction, and fan art:

characters who are hard of hearing/ have tinnitus (like let’s be honest, carth + canderous would at least have tinnitus from being on literal battlefields)

non-racist takes. please. please for the love of the universe stop bringing discriminatory values into pieces of media that people use for escapism. i’d LOVE if everyone could acknowledge white supremacy as a very alive and continuing ideology and start taking on anti-racist actions, but if you’re not going to do that, can you at least not ruin pieces of valued media for others. stop it with the white washing, stop neglecting non-white characters (such as wyll from bg3), and stop giving them traits that are based on stereotypes that have genuinely nothing to do with their character.

unattractive scarring that is not glorified or made “beautiful”. some scars are ugly, and thats okay, beauty is not even a thing so let’s allow characters to have them be realistic (zevran, leliana, pretty much the whole kotor crew— specifically atton as well, who i’d LOVE to see with lightsaber scars from the old days that he uncovers to mc after he’s told them his backstory, AND THEN BECOMES A JEDI HIMSELF)

characters coming to terms with PTSD & abuse. i’m talking zevran realising that there were times he really didn’t want to have sex with someone in his crow days, but was forced to for the mission, & him coming to terms that he didn’t like sex all the times he did it— it was a way to survive, just like how he propositions the HoF almost immediately for protection, but finds he still enjoys it. i’m talking mission in kotor 1 having to come to terms with all horrors she’s had to witness as a TEENAGER— revan sitting with her, a comforting presence as she faces her PTSD. alistair properly delving into the fact he was addicted to lyrium because of the templars, him being angry and sad and confused rather than brushing it off as a joke. the characters who were with the HoF facing the fact they witnessed their death if they decided to kill the archdemon with no ritual.

accurate depictions of depression following the events. even if they were successful at their task and happy, many people would still feel at a loss. HoF feeling heavy even after they’ve killed the arch demon & alistair’s alive to be king— breaking down after the final battle, unable to stop thinking about all the destruction and death caused, the amount of killing they did finally catching up to them (because even if they’re brave and strong, they can actually still feel something about the amount of death they’ve had to face). TAV having a PROPER conversation with the rest of their companions after all the events of bg3, all sitting together in companionable silence and grieving together for the previous events. characters unable to immediately spring back after events, hurting and hurting and just needing to be around people they love. depression being something that comes to them every so often, something they can’t seem to shake, and it being validated (by the narrative AND other characters)

people who aren’t able-bodied. literally just in general, and them not bring considered lesser than just because of their reliance on wheelchairs/walking sticks, etc. characters who can’t physically fight anymore but can still contribute with their ferocity, intelligence, determination, coercion skills. because funnily enough, people don’t lose these things if they aren’t able-bodied anymore.

feel free to add any more you think i’d agree with!

#dragon age origins #dao #baldurs gate 3 #kotor #kotor 2 #fantasy games in general #things to consider when engaging in media #all of these have been said before but i’ll say it again

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gwarden123 · 11 months

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Hmm, that ending was more of a wet fart than I thought it would be...

I knew they destroyed the holocron, but I really thought they were going to destroy it in the process of escape, rather than afterwards when they’re all safe and sound. It’s that emotional crescendo thing again. Not that you can’t have an ending where they destroy the macguffin after the climax. It’s just usually that happens when the hero has been chasing the macguffin to fill a hole inside them and, by the end, they realise they don’t need it. “I’ll be happy once I get my million credits” -> “Maybe the million credits were the friends that were inside me all along” It’s just, I didn’t particularly feel that with Cal? Maybe with Cere. She’s seeking the holocron to wash away her sin of betraying her apprentice. But a) she’s not the main character, and b) that doesn’t happen at the end. She doesn’t gain absolution with her interaction with Trilla, nor does she gain an understanding that she didn’t need absolution in the first place. And she’s not the main character, so it wouldn’t matter even if she did.

So, what we have in the end is a thing we’ve spent the entire game trying to get because Cal said he wanted it, only to have Cal go *shrug* “I don’t want it actually, lol”. And they don’t even... Like, Cordova created the holocron because he sensed great doom and wanted to save the Jedi Order. If Cal had used the destruction of the holocron to secure their escape, Cordova’s goal would have come to fruition, if not in the way he envisioned. We could have even had one last message from him to close out the game.

Here is my suggestion. We reconfigure things to make the story a game of cat and mouse between Cal, et al. and Trilla. We make Cal feel a little more guilty over the death of his master, but we also make it so Cal’s escape on Bracca landed Trilla in hot water with Vader/the Emperor. So, when she goes after the holocron, she’s not just doing it to capture all those little Jedi children, she’s doing it to make up for her failure. She needs it. We move the ending to somewhere more isolated. I mean, you could do the Inquisitor Fortress, I guess. It’s just lonely mountaintops are more fun. Whatever, they’re fighting bitterly over the holocron and Cal destroys it to give them the opening to get away. Maybe everything’s exploding or the planet’s on fire (or they’re in a flooding base). This has to start before they start fighting. There has to be a sense of their pursuit of the holocron leading them into hell. Cal destroying it is not just him protecting the Jedi kids, but also his realisation of this fact. Then Trilla is like “NOO!” and dives after the broken pieces, giving us the opportunity, some platforming and exploding later, to rescue her from certain doom, leading more naturally into her turning away from the Empire.

That’s if you decide you need Trilla, anyway. Honestly, I think she could be written out, if instead you want the story to focus on Cal’s emotional journey of getting over his trauma and facing his master’s memory. Malichos would have worked fine as the main bad guy, especially if he had perhaps helped out a little more the first time you meet him on Dathomir. Would have worked more thematically, I think, with both him and Cal being survivors of trauma and both of them choosing to deal with it in different ways. Then Merrin might actually have something to do with the main plot, because, it’s not like I don’t see the potential, but, boy, does she embody the idea of “characters said hi to each other once in one scene and Tumblr decided to ship them forever”.

#jedi: fallen order #story criticism #a little more than criticism actually #started turning into fan fiction at the end there

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hetbigbang · 1 year

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Weekly Round Up 3

Hello everyone! Here is our third Weekly Round Up of Stories and Fanworks! Weekly Round Up 1 Weekly Round Up 2 Completed Works Here are this week’s works that have been posted in their entirety! Title/Author Reinvention Isn't Such a Bad Thing by Jedi Buttercup (jedibuttercup) Fandom/Rating: Sleepy Hollow (TV)/Teen Pairing: Ichabod Crane/Abbie Mills Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: (Click on arrow) It might not be the time to act on the realisations he'd lately made, but Ichabod would not pretend the emotions didn't exist; that was how he had ended up failing her before. And not a particle of his being wanted Abigail Mills to think she wasn't wanted. Title/Fanworker Stronger Together (Fanmix & Covers) by MistressKat Rating/Warnings: G/No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: (Click on arrow) This is a fanmix for Jedi Buttercup's Reinvention Isn't Such a Bad Thing. Chaptered Posting Here are this week’s works that are being posted by the chapter! Title/Author Vellichor by Naaer Fandom/Rating: Doctor Who/Teen and Up Audiences Pairing: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler Chapters: 1/3 Warnings: Author chooses not to use Archive Warnings Summary: (Click on arrow) As John gaped at Rose, colour spreading rapidly on his high cheekbones, she let out a small groan. What the hell had she gotten herself into? ~ A Modern Fake Relationship AU, in which Rose tells a rather large fib involving her sort-of-best-mate and has to work out how to handle the grand charade - especially as old memories come back to haunt her... Title/Author Cochenille by AlexSeanchai Cochenille [accessible version] by AlexSeanchai Fandom/Rating: Miraculous Ladybug/Mature Pairing: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug; Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe Chapters: 6/20 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Summary: (Click on arrow) Marie Sancoeur knows very little about herself. She's Mère's only child, and like a daughter to Monsieur, more trusted than his own son if not more loved; Madame is—absent—but will surely admire Marie's skills both artistic and alchemical, just as her son does, once Madame is safe again; she would prefer not to be the enemy of Ladybug and Chat Noir, but both so-called heroes are the enemies of Monsieur and Madame and Mère, and so they have made an enemy of Marie. (If she thinks Ladybug and Chat Noir could simply sit back and watch Monsieur destroy himself and his legacy in a trap of his own making—truly if Monsieur ever even wants grandchildren, he should consider letting Adrien kiss Marie, leave the mansion and talk to people, or both—well, she thinks all that very quietly, and finds music Adrien enjoys to play rather louder.) Nino is not taking sides on whether Monarque lied about killing Ladybug or whether Chat Noir has abandoned Paris. He's especially not siding against Alya. She would understand if he could explain. Marinette Dupain-Cheng has no idea who any of those people are, and she has no idea what she did to be saved and protected by a cat-eared angel. Title/Author watercolours in the rain by Killaurey Fandom/Rating: Naruto/Mature Pairings: Nara Shikamaru/Yamanaka Ino; Haruno Sakura/Yamanaka Ino Chapters: 10/18 Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Summary: (Click on arrow) "Don't hang up. It's about Ino." Nothing less than the purest of loves could reel him back to the hell that had raised him. Sakura plays her cards well, when she wants to. That it all goes desperately wrong from there is... about what he'd expected. Shikamaru doesn't want to save the world. Maybe, just maybe though, he can save the girl. (Don't dare me to write a love story.) -- (This series is in chronological order. You do not need to have read womb under water to follow this story.) Title/Author Growing Strong by apckrfan Fandom/Rating: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling/Mature Pairing: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape Chapters: 6/9 Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: (Click on arrow) Home post-war by himself other than Ministry-sponsored healers to aid in his healing, Severus finds himself at his wit’s end with the state of his life. He never intended to survive the war and has no desire to continue with his life. He plans to combine an overdose of an enhanced sleeping draught with a dose of Felix Felicis, wanting to see his true love one last time and determine once and for all if she’s forgiven him before dying. He doesn’t exactly get what he was expecting (which shouldn’t surprise him after all). See fic header in body of text for full summary. WARNINGS: Depressed, suicidal intentioned Severus Snape but it will be HEA and is not steeped in darkness Title/Fanworker Growing Strong - Fanwork by Esmalt Rating/Warnings: General/Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Summary: (Click on arrow) He caught her in a rare inactive, and unaware moment, as she was seated in his study at the desk. If you have missed your posting date, or you need to change your posting date, send us an email ASAP and we will get your posting date changed! If you have any questions or concerns, here is the Page-A Mod Post. You can also contact the mods via email, [email protected], or by messaging LuciferxDamien or Jesterlady on the HetBang Discord server. from Het Big Bang https://ift.tt/MhrtFs5 via IFTTT

#IFTTT #Het Big Bang #hbb2022

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comfortwriting · 3 years

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Through Thick and Thin - A.S

Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

masterlist, requesting rules, guidelines, taglist

About: When Obi-Wan learns of Anakin's turn to the dark side, he goes to Y/N to try and find him; what he gets instead changes everything and Anakin gets the answers he's been waiting for.

A/N: this is my first time writing in months, please be kind! Need to get back to my flow lol

Word Count: 2057

Warnings: murder, death, blood, mention of parent loss.

"He killed younglings, Y/N!" Obi-Wan stressed, pacing around the room "Tell me where he is, I beg you."

You stared at your husbands Jedi Master, contemplating if you should tell him the truth - betraying your husband and revealing his whereabouts or to lie and protect him. After all, you knew what Obi-Wan was going to do.

You knew that Anakin was capable of taking lives, especially the lives of women and children after he murdered the Tusken Raiders - you weren't afraid of him when he confessed and you certainly didn't shame him for it; you could understand his anger, his hate, his need for revenge.

Anakin's back was facing you, he stared at the wall, hot tears streaming down his face.

"I killed them." he paused, catching his breath "I killed them all. They're dead, every single one of them."

Anakin slowly turned around to face you, his face stained with tears, his eyes glassy and red.

You stared at him, trying not to judge him for what he had done - knowing that if you did, you would be the biggest hypocrite known to man.

"And not just the men," Anakin inched closer to you, shaking his head "but the women and the children too."

You froze.

Women, like you.

Children, like the ones you adored at the Jedi Temple, children you dreamed of having with Anakin.

Part of you died hearing his confession, but you remembered how you felt when you were finally left alone in a room with your fathers killer. You too would've killed his wife and the other women and children in their village. You would wipe them all out.

"They're like animals, and I slaughtered them like animals." Anakin started to raise his voice, his pearly white teeth shining in the light "I hate them!"

Anakin dumped himself to the floor, bringing his knees to his chest, more tears falling from his eyes; you placed your hand against his face, wiping away his tears with your thumb.

"It's okay to feel angry, it's okay to hate them after what they did." You said softly, casting circles on his cheek with your thumb.

"I'm a Jedi," his eyes searched yours, his hand reaching for yours, holding it tightly "I know I'm better than this."

You sighed, kissing his hand softly "Don't let what you've done define you, Ani."

"How can I come back from this?" He asked in frustration "How can I move forward if Obi-Wan is holding me back!"

"You find a way," you encouraged him "even if it means going against him... and the council."

"You're going to kill him, aren't you?" You asked quietly.

Obi-Wan didn't answer, he swallowed hard and looked at the pale lilac carpet.

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to be the death of me?"

"Don't say that Master... You're the closest thing I have to a father... I love you. I don't want to cause you pain."

"He has slain younglings, Y/N! I saw his callousness with my own eyes!" Obi-Wan raised his voice, "Anakin has sided with Palpatine! He's the sith lord!"

You started to laugh, waving your hand.

'Of course, Obi-Wan and the council are pinning this on Palpatine, making him the bad guy.' you thought.

"It's funny," you speak up swinging your right leg over your left knee "you and the council painting Palpatine as evil."

The Jedi Master stared at you in horror and couldn't believe the words coming out of your mouth - his heart splitting into tiny fragments, the young girl he raised was defending the chosen one - the young boy who had grown up with bouts of pent up hate and anger, and turned to the dark side.

"Palpatine is the only person other than me who truly cares for Anakin, who never lectures him for his feelings, who never holds him back."

Obi-Wan felt sick.

"I don't know where he is," you lied "even if I did, I'm not telling you."

"Don't make this harder for me than it needs to be," Obi-Wan warned you, remembering the Jedi Code, pushing his memories with you and Anakin aside.

You didn't flinch, instead, you sat back down on the sofa, staring at the beautiful sparkling wedding ring on your finger.

"I don't want to go back," you sighed, dragging your feet through inches of deep, sparkling snow "I've missed being home."

Anakin nervously fidgeted with the ring box in his pocket, practising his words over and over and over, making sure he got them perfect, his body freezing, his hair full of snowflakes.

"I'm so thankful you came here with me, Ani." You smiled, "My dad would've loved you."

Realising that Anakin wasn't following you, you stopped in your tracks and turned around, finding your boyfriend down on one knee.

"Ani-"

"From the day we met, I have never been able to shake you from my mind and heart."

Your eyes filled with tears and your goggles started to steam up.

"I never got to ask for your father's blessing, but that won't stop me."

You focused on the ring, realising it was the same one that your father always showed you as a child, with his plan to give to you in hopes that you would pass it on to your children.

"Y/N, my love, will you marry me?"

You nodded your head, removing your glove, exposing your warm skin to the freezing air that instantly started to nip at your skin.

"Yes," you smiled, more tears falling from your eyes "I will marry you, Anakin."

"Your father would be ashamed of you, you're becoming the very thing he hated, you're sleeping with the enemy!"

The rage you once felt started to ignite deep inside you as Obi-Wan tried to sour one of the greatest moments of your life.

You stood up, and walked over to him, staring him down.

"You know better than to bring up my father, Obi-Wan."

Anakin tried to catch his breath, stumbling backwards in extreme pain, the sound of your screams ringing in his ears. You were hurt, probably dead with the amount of pain Anakin was experiencing.

His heart started pounding, his ears ringing, feeling sick to his stomach - you couldn't be... could you? who could've done this? why?

"I have these nightmares..." Anakin opened up to you "what I see, happens."

You stroked Anakin's head, your fingertips massaging his scalp, your lips brushing against his neck.

"I had them about my mother before she died, I wasn't strong enough to save her."

You stopped massaging his scalp, and pulled away, looking into his blue eyes - full of tears that pooled up over his waterline.

"You are strong and you get even stronger the more you learn and experience," you paused "I was strong - not strong enough to save my dad, but now I probably would've had a better chance of doing so. We move forward."

Your fiance nodded his head, pursing his lips and kissing you softly, still emotional when he pulled away from the kiss.

"I don't want to dream of you like that- I don't want the nightmares - I can't... I can't lose you..."

You shook your head, cupping Anakin's face in your hands "You won't lose me, Ani."

Anakin didn't know but he would soon find out, killing the last of the separatist leaders on Mustafar, he boarded his ETA-2 Jedi Starfighter and set off in a hurry; desperate to find you.

You were in utter shock.

Your hands trembling, your forehead burning, the room closing in on you yet expanding at the same time and your throat like sandpaper from your constant screaming.

It all happened so fast - Obi-Wan striking for you, your leg being severed off faster than you could realise until you fell down and all you could feel was agonising pain, and the smell of burning flesh filling the room, the blood boiling in your veins.

You sat on the floor, your back propped up against the back of the sofa, dragging yourself across the floor proved difficult since you stopped practising your upper body workouts.

Looking across the room, your eyes landed on Obi-Wan, no longer breathing - how you did it? you didn't know - you managed to take control, more power than you ever had in your life, your fury spitting inside of you begging for release.

Do you feel guilty? Now that you think about it, no.

Obi-Wan attempted to end your life and he would take Anakin's life too.

Bringing the back of your hand up to your forehead, you wiped away the beads of sweat, your chest rising and falling.

Anakin jumped out of his Starfighter, his hood shielding his face, his long strides bringing him closer and closer to you, his eyes no longer a beautiful shade of blue, but like the two suns on Tatooine during sunset.

She can't be. Y/N can't be dead. Not now. Not ever.

Getting closer and closer, Anakin could sense death, pain, and suffering.

The door swung open as Anakin stormed in, searching for you frantically until his eyes landed on your amputated leg in the middle of the room, his face drained of all its colour.

Your screams came back to him, the searing sound of Obi-Wan's lightsaber severing your leg, the loud thud as you fell to the floor and then the walls shaking, everything shaking, your yells, Obi-Wan's voice breaking before his body dropped lifelessly to the floor.

Anakin glanced over to his Jedi Masters lifeless body and stared, his eyes burning holes into Obi-Wans back, wanting nothing more than to revive him just so he could have the pleasure of murdering him for what he had done to you.

You peeked your head out from behind the sofa, "Ani," you winced, "I'm back here."

Anakin rushed to your side, his eyes pouring with tears as he searched your face and body for more injuries; the sight of your wound hurt him deeply.

How could Obi-Wan do this to you? How could anyone do such a thing to the chosen one's wife?

"Are you-are you-"

"Ani," you tried to calm him down breathlessly "just my leg, nothing-nothing else."

Anakin scooped you into his arms as gently as he could, you held onto him for support, moving one of your arms around his neck, your tear-stained face hiding in his chest, his heartbeat thumping against your ear comforting you.

"I thought you were dead," Anakin croaked, carrying you away, his robes hiding you in his arms.

"Obi-Wan came to me, he needed to know where you were so he could kill you," you admitted, "he told me that you killed younglings."

Anakin slowed down, you pulled your head out of his chest and looked into his eyes.

"Did you believe him?" Anakin asked, his tone harsh.

You paused for a moment, slightly afraid that Anakin might drop you.

"I know that you have killed children before," you replied quietly, "he told me that Palpatine is the sith lord... that you are his apprentice-"

"What do you think of Palpatine?" Anakin's eyes rummaged through yours.

She can't turn against me - she won't. I won't let her.

"I think that he's the only other person aside from me who has ever encouraged you to show your emotions, to use them to make you stronger."

Anakin's eyes fixed on your face like glue "what if he is the sith lord, and I have joined him? what would you think of me"

You sighed, closing your eyes, imagining the perfect life with your husband; you and him never in harms way, children of your own growing up without a clue of what it's like to lose a parent, to be a slave.

"I would encourage you to overthrow him, and together you and I can rule the galaxy,"

You opened your eyes, everything coming back to you, your father's death, how it felt to slaughter a whole family.

"make things the way we want them to be."

Anakin gripped onto you tightly, a prideful grin spreading across his face.

"Everyone turned against me but you." He said softly, kissing you.

"What if you hate what I become?" your boyfriend stressed, pacing up and down.

"I could never hate you, Anakin," you walked over to him, linking your arm with his metal one"I'll be with you through thick and thin."

tags: @autobotrosestark

#anakin x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin imagines #anakin oneshots #obi wan x reader #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic #star wars fanfiction #star wars imagines #star wars fanfic

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