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seasidewriter1-writes · 3 years

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Answering Asks from @fadingclamalmondrascal : “Hi! I hope you're still doing asks, but I understand if you're not, it sounds like you've got a lot going on. I've got 3 questions for you:

1: What made you want to adopt this story and write an "Anakin's big sister who falls in love with obi" au? What about it appealed to you initially, and what about it keeps you coming back?

2: I love Elara's Sith name! Carus is so cool. What kind of thought did you put into that name and her sith design?

3: What does your writing process for each chapter look like?”

Hi!! My asks are always open, and even if my life his completely hectic, I’ll always get around to answering them! But, thankfully, my life has started to calm down in the last week. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done in the last day, so I’m in a very “Balance” mood, so I’m super stoked to answer these!! (I also wrote a lot again, so buckle up!!)

1. So fun backstory on my finding the story: I was living in England for my first year at University, and I was on a big ol’ Star Wars kick because The Force Awakens had just come out in December. It was January. It was cold, the evenings were getting rainy, so one night after dinner and scrolled through FFN to find something fun to read. And when I first found and read the original story, pre-adoption (which I believe is still up and called “Another Skywalker”), I remember being like ‘wow, this is an interesting concept.’ And as I read it, in my head, all of these ideas were coming to my head; and I remember being kinda sad about that. I didn’t want to write my own story, then have it seem like I’d ripped off the concept from the author. Because this was the first fic with the “Anakin’s older sister falling for Obi” concept that I’d ever seen. I didn’t know if it was something of a trope for an Obi x OC pairing, or if this one was an odd one out. So I finished reading the 11 chapters, and the author had posted a note saying that the story was, effectively, up for adoption. I have never jumped on something so fast. I drafted out two scenes (a now obsolete scene where Elara sees Obi-Wan off to Kamino, and a chunk of the final battle RotS) and sent it to the author. When she told me that the story and concept were all mine to do with as I pleased, I was so excited. Because I realized that all the ideas that had been tentatively brewing in my head, I could now fully bring to fruition.

What initially drew me to the concept was the idea of being able to explore a story and a romance that is, in a way, a foil to Anakin’s. Almost a way to show that maybe, if things had gone differently, Anakin and Padmé’s romance didn’t have to be doomed. Because I have always believed that there had to be some way that it didn’t have to end in disaster. Presenting a Jedi OC x Obi-Wan can explore similar issues (and there’s a lot of fun to be had with that concept, too). But then you have two people who were raised with/to follow the same ideals. Though they are both unique individuals, they will come up to very similar blockages––struggling with breaking the Code, with sloughing off ideals and a way of life they’ve followed all their lives. But with a Skywalker OC… that changes. You get someone who wasn’t raised to keep her emotions in ultra-check. Someone who, like Anakin, is family oriented, passionate about protecting those they love, and innately wishes to express their emotions in a more open manner. Those characteristics present unique conflict (particularly in conjunction with Obi-Wan’s characteristics), and I just… I wanted to, and continue to want to, play with that. Because Elara is dedicated to the Jedi Code. She’s a good Jedi. But put her want to be a good Jedi (for herself, for her brother, for the good of the galaxy) right up against an undeniable, innate need and want to love (because, at her core, Elara is just a purely loving person)––you get whole other obstacles to overcome. It’s a lot of fun to figure out how her overcoming her obstacles helps Obi-Wan overcomes his, and vice-versa. How we can see, in recent chapters, that Obi-Wan realizing he can’t hold Elara at arm’s length anymore affects her; how she starts being more gentle towards him again, tentatively letting him back in. I just love playing with stuff like that!!

And there are a whole lot of things that keep me coming back to this story. One of the biggest things, I think, has to be the idea that ‘love prevails.’ I love myself a complex romance. Maybe that’s why I love Regency/Period Dramas so much; because there are so many ups and downs––and that’s what makes it feel so good! Because while there’s hope and love and happiness, there’s also drama and frustration and confrontation. But through all of that, at the end… love prevails. I’m a hopeless romantic, I’ll own up to that any time of the day. So seeing a couple, so hopelessly in love, go through trials and tribulations and come out on the other end completely alright? That’s my jam! And when you’ve got someone who stands so steadfastly by their ideals as Obi-Wan, but who very clearly is… so passionate and loving… That just feels like the way a love story with him would go. And ‘love prevails’ doesn’t just apply to the Obi-Lara stuff either. It’s about the familial love between Anakin and Elara, and how that love for each other may thrive or suffer in events to come… it’s the platonic love of Elara and the men of the 442nd. Star Wars is a story of many things––family, adventure, coming into your own… but it’s also about love. And getting to add to that aspect of the story in any given way, for people who enjoy reading it, to have fun conceptualizing and writing everything… it keeps bringing me back for more.

2. I had so much fun thinking up all the Darth Carus stuff!! It was prompted by a question in a review, asking what I thought Elara would be like as a Sith/what her name would be. So I started looking at all the other Sith names, and realized a lot of them were words that stood for descriptors of the Sith Lord. “Maul” for (the literal usage of) “maul,” “Tyrannus” for “tyrant” (derived, likely, from Latin tyrannia or tyrannos), “Vader” for “invader” (or “father”). So I decided I would use a Latin word for her Sith name, and decided I needed to think of what she would be like as a Sith. Tyrannical? Violent? Rampaging? And none of those seemed… right. It felt, to me, that if she were to become a Sith, it would be out of heartbreak. And it wouldn’t be a denial of love kind of heartbreak; it would be losing someone she truly loved (Anakin or Obi-Wan) forever. Their death, perhaps by a mistake that she made. So I went, ‘okay, the birth of her being a Sith is related to love.’ I searched up some Latin words and found “Carus” which means heart. And because Elara, Jedi or Sith, is so involved with her emotions and with love, with her heart… it just seemed to fit.

Now, the outfit––ohh, I had so much fun with the outfit. I’ve got a BFA in Theatrical Arts, so I’m big on costumes and costume details, so creating Elara’s Sith outfit was absolutely delightful. Again, I started with what I thought Darth Carus would be like. There’s a mournful aspect to her, so black as part of her color palette works, but I didn’t want her to be dressed in all black. I thought that, in the wake of her heartbreak, there would be a dangerous passion about her. An angry passion. So ‘anger’ and ‘passion’ are typically associated with burning colors like red, so I through red (and orange) into the mix. And I wanted them to be bright––Darth Carus is no longer hiding in the neutrals of Tatooine or the Jedi Order. She’s letting the galaxy know her pain. I did, however, want to stick with clothing articles that were more robe-like. It’s what Elara’s known her whole life. But instead of multiple layers, I stripped it down to singular, more form fitting articles. In a way, the fewer layers is displaying the vulnerability that turned her towards the Darkness. Red is the predominant color (the tunic) because it draws attention. You have to look at her, you have to see her pain. It’s almost like staring into a fire, or gaping at an open wound. And because all good Sith Lords need a dramatic cape, I thought I’d do a fun take on it and do one of the ones that attaches at the shoulders instead of drapes over them. Maximum drama for sweeping down staircases or jumping off of tall platforms. Now, like I said, I’m a sucker for small details… hence why I added the embroidery on the tunic collar. It’s floral. It denotes her love of life. Now, if this were all real life, real costume design in an actual movie… the embroidered flowers would be Gleannish Snow Blossoms. And, of course, amidst all the bright reds, vivid oranges, and swaths of black… against all this intensity… you have the delicate, cool softness of the real Snow Blossom pinned to the spot over her heart. The very same Snow Blossom that Obi-Wan gave her on Gleann. A gentle reminder of better days… of the reason she became the ways she is… of the man she loved so wholly and deeply that, in losing him… she’d much have rather killed her own heart instead. (Also, a friend of mine and I had a wonderful conversation discussing how much of a terrifying, badass power couple Sith!Elara and Sith!Obi-Wan would be. It’s delightful.)

3. So, if I’m writing a chapter that deals with a chunk of movie or episode, what I’ll do first is sit down and watch what I perceive I’ll be writing. I’ll take down notes on things that I’ll want to add in/describe. I’ve also got a whole document of ideas I’ve already written down, and a document of bullet-pointed ideas, so I’ll give that I skim/edit, too. I always have to pick what scenes to leave in or take out, decide if they can be summarized or should be left in. Sometimes this’ll happen the same day I start writing, but sometimes I take a day to really think things over, sleep on it, then start the next. Then I’ll start to write, and I’ll have the movie/episode open for reference. When I write canon dialogue, it’s a lot of: watch, listen, pause, transcribe; rewind, read subtitles, listen, pause, transcribe. I also usually have, like… five safari tabs open with different research pages open––one for the movie/episode, probably one for a character of some kind, a google image search of a costume or something, and another one that’s got, like, different kinds of starships or droids (because there are so, so many). A lot of the time I’ll just transcribe/describe a chunk of canon stuff, then go back and add in extra details, weave Elara into it, or change up the dialogue to fit. An example being Obi-Wan and Sugi’s conversation in the barn. I beefed that up a little bit, added in references, and used it to benefit the overall storyline.

With chapters that are more original content based, those take a little longer to plan. Even if I have an idea of what’s going to happen, it takes a bit of time to figure out how to order it all, how to get a proper lead in, how to make transitions. And I also contemplate whether or not what I want to write is really going to be beneficial to the story, or if it’s going to end up being meaningless filling. There are a lot of ideas that I have had or do have that would be fun to write, but don’t really… work into the story well enough (like, god, do I want a girls’ day chapter 😂). And it’s in writing these chapters in particular that I do a lot of my music listening. Star Wars soundtracks, the story playlists I’ve made… the right music can help me find the mood or setting of a scene, inspire a moment. Like, I cannot tell you how much of the bunker scene on Ryloth was inspired by Sebastian Böhm’s rendition of “Blue Monday.” Music plays a huge role in writing for me. I’ll have music playing when I’m driving or doing dishes or cooking, and I’ll start to formulate ideas while listening. There are times, too, when I feel stuck when writing that I’ll swap on over to YouTube and I’ll watch some Star Wars edits. There’s an amazing edit of “War Pigs” by Black Sabbath over battle sequences from the films, and it’s just… it feeds my soul when I get stuck writing battle sequences. I’ve got, like… a go-to list of edits I watch when I feel a little stuck, and they’re all phenomenal. And when all is said and done and I’ve finished the chapter, I usually take a break and sit on it for a bit. Then go back, read over it, do grammar edits, change things if I see fit too. Then it’s on to review replies and I get it uploaded and posted!!

#mary answers #Mary answers asks #balance asks #I’m alive!#And I’m writing again!#HUZZAH!

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panharmonium · 3 years

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@captain-jaybird @solo-by-choice - i love you guys XD

So, the fic in question was originally a collection of ten location-based vignettes following the development of Obi-Wan and Padme’s friendship from AotC to RotS. I wrote it seven years ago and only ever showed it to my sister and @dyingsighs, so unless I fall hard back into Star Wars at some point, I probably won’t ever post it in its entirety, because I don’t think I have quite enough energy to do the kind of rewriting it would need in order for me to feel like it meets my current standards. HOWEVER - given your replies, I pulled the only two vignettes from it that I do actually still like, because I know it has been literal years since I made any Star Wars-related work for you, and I feel like this is the least I can do to thank you for your many years of fandom friendship! 😊

@all my old Star Wars peeps: Ancient fic snippets under the cut! Consider this an affectionate “hello there” from me - I hope you guys are all doing well out there! <3

-naboo-

Anakin is insistent.

“Come on, Padmé,” he cajoles her. “Just a little walk. I get to be here without breaking any rules for once and you want to just sit inside?” He flings open the embassy’s balcony doors and gestures out over the city. “Look at this day!”

Sunny skies or not, Padmé can’t quite wrench her gaze away from the festival itinerary in her hands. However many times she’s been over it, she can’t help but feel they must have missed some small detail, and in a situation as precarious as this one, the slightest slip could be deadly. “I can’t, Anakin.”

Anakin’s carefree expression starts its rapid but familiar descent into a scowl. “Why not? No one’s going to bust a Senator for showing one of her Jedi guests around. We can just walk the perimeter of the Festival platform – ”

“Anakin – ”

“You can pretend to show me the security arrangements or something – ”

“Anakin! You’re supposed to be here to prevent an assassination attempt on the Chancellor. This isn’t a social call.”

Anakin lets out his breath in a huge gust, waving a hand dismissively. “That? We’ve got that under control, Padmé. Don’t even worry about it.”

“I am worried about it.” Anakin opens his mouth as if to make another placating remark, but Padmé cuts him off. “This is serious. I can’t leave the embassy right now. I’m not going out for a stroll. I’m not doing anything until the Festival is over and done with tonight.” When Anakin’s scowl does not subside, she sighs and makes a passing attempt at smoothing things over. “I’m sorry, but the Festival of Light is enough of a headache without adding assassination threats into the mix. I’m just a little tense right now.”

Anakin comes extraordinarily close to signing his own death warrant by rolling his eyes at her, but he stops just short of an irrevocable mistake. “Yeah, you and everyone else,” he says instead, a very particular brand of irritation edging into his voice. “But whatever. Go ahead and read that thing again. I’ll just come back when everyone’s got their bad feelings under control.” He sweeps out of the room with the type of stormy bluster only he can manage.

Wrestling down a surge of irritation of her own, Padmé tosses the itinerary onto the desk. Anakin, for all his moodiness, is partially right – she has the elegant program memorized back to front, and poring over it further is only going to make her feel worse. And, come to think of it, there are a few other security measures she needs to double check with the rest of the Jedi task force.

Pushing back her chair, she sets off in search of Anakin’s derisively referenced “everyone else.”

Most of the embassy’s guests, including the recently arrived contingent of Jedi knights, appear to have vacated the premises – emulating Anakin’s shining example and enjoying the day, perhaps, or, in the case of the Jedi, probably walking the security perimeter in preparation for tonight’s festivities. After making inquiries, Padme finds a staff member who directs her to the rear of the ornately decorated building, where she discovers Everyone Else in the courtyard, boots and cloak discarded against the wall, dappled sun playing over his inner tunics.

She hesitates on the steps. It’s bad form to interrupt a Jedi in meditation, not that she has much opportunity to commit such faux pas. Anakin rarely meditates, resorting to the ancient art only when he has failed in his attempts to outrace or outright beat his troubled thoughts into submission.

But this doesn’t seem like meditation, exactly, not the kind she recognizes. Obi-Wan is performing what looks like some kind of kata with a ritual slowness, pivoting and stretching with unhurried grace, flowing smoothly out of one stance and into the next, like liquid filling a clear vessel. He holds himself suspended for an interminable count between each position, bare feet rooted on the sun-warmed flagstones, the only thing moving around him dust motes drifting through heavy beams of sunlight.

She doesn’t really mean to stay and watch, but there’s an almost hypnotic quality to the rhythmic motion – exertion of the body, sun and warmth and muscle and bone intertwined with stillness of the mind, an empty calm space, peace in the eye of the storm.

He sinks into a low stance with his back to her, head bowed, upward-facing hands loosely fisted, elbows bent and tucked in at his sides. Then, after a long, still stretch of time, the calm murmur of his voice, rippling with something like amusement. “Good morning.”

She blinks. “Oh! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“That’s quite all right.” He seems to come back from some far place, and straightens, turning to address her. Holding her gaze for a moment, searchingly, he draws some private conclusion. “You are disturbed.”

She presses her lips together by way of response, grudgingly impressed yet cursing Jedi perception to the lowest pit of Chaos. “It’s not important,” she says. “Just the festival.” She changes the subject. “What’s that you were doing?”

Obi-Wan paces over to the courtyard wall to retrieve his footwear. “One of the alchaka forms,” he says, pulling on the soft nerfhide boots. At her blank look, he adds, “It’s...a type of moving meditation. One of the oldest known to the Order.”

“It looks relaxing,” Padmé says. Would that she could expunge her own anxieties with such artfulness.

He shrugs slightly. “In theory.” He bends down and scoops up his cloak with an easy physicality. “The intended goal is to clear one’s mind. To...release troubled thoughts.”

Something about the crease in his brow seems to belie this statement. Thinking back, she remembers suddenly what Anakin had said earlier, and, surprised, frowns. “Are you worried about the festival tonight? About the assassination attempt?”

He blinks at her for a moment, as if she had only just reminded him about the possible catastrophe. “No. No, I don’t think so. Even if the intelligence we’ve gathered is accurate, I doubt the Separatist forces will be able to achieve much when they must first go through six Jedi. And Naboo’s finest,” he adds, glancing up at the overhead balconies, where far-away security personnel stand sentinel, their uniforms smears of dark red across the golden walls.

“But you are worried about something.”

A beat. Then, “No. Merely practicing good habits.”

She laughs humorlessly and sinks down onto the steps. “Tonight could be a disaster.”

Obi-Wan thinks for a moment before responding. “If so,” he reminds her carefully, “it is one which all your worries will be completely unable to prevent.”

“I know. But when it’s my people concerned...and the Chancellor, obviously...” She ticks things off on her fingers. “Public support for Queen Neeyutnee...the well-being of the Republic...”

“Fate of the galaxy.”

“Little things.”

They exchange almost shy grins, private smiles. Padmé feels one tiny knot of tension uncoil inside her, and she breathes out an exasperated sigh, ineffectually commanding the rest of her anxieties to untangle and be gone. “I need some of that alcha-whatsit business, clearly,” she says ruefully. “I’m a mess.”

Obi-Wan takes a step back and looks her up and down. “I agree,” he says.

Excuse me? Padmé suppresses a surge of indignation.

“You will forgive me for saying so, but a senator is no good to her people preoccupied. She must keep a cool head about her at all times.”

“I beg your pardon –

“Therefore,” Obi-Wan plunges ahead, and Padmé suddenly sees the glint of humor starting in his eyes, “I feel it is my duty in this case to help you attain such calm.”

She narrows her eyes at him in mock severity, but inside, she feels her mood beginning to lighten. “By insulting my competence?”

“By exposing you to some of that alcha-whatsit business,” he says. “If you like.”

Padmé hesitates. This is Jedi business for sure, far outside her arena. But Obi-Wan just smiles reassuringly at her and extends a hand.

“Not to worry, Senator. I have it on good authority that I am a reasonably competent teacher.”

Padmé eyes his hand for another moment, then slaps her own lightly into his open palm. “Very well then,” she says. “I submit myself to your reasonably competent tutelage.”

“Obi-Wan, I don’t think this is for me.”

Padmé looks down at her bare feet, torn between luxuriating in the warmth of the sun-soaked stones and fretting over the ever-widening stance Obi-Wan is asking her to assume.

“Patience.” He sticks his own soft-booted foot against the inside of her ankle and slides one of her feet out to the left.

“Obi-Wan – ”

Still applying a gentle pressure against one foot, he pushes the other further away.

“I don’t know how to do a split, Obi-Wan,” she warns him, tamping down on a little flare of alarm.

“That’s far enough.”

Thank goodness she’d worn a relatively uncomplicated dress today. Senatorial garb was nowhere near so flexible as the Jedi’s simple tunics.

She looks up at Obi-Wan, who, by virtue of her lowered, bent-kneed stance, is now slightly above her. “What now?”

“Now,” he says placidly, sinking into the same low stance beside her, albeit with considerably more familiarity and ease, “you do as I do.”

All right, then. She waits for him to begin, but the only thing he does is close his eyes, and she can’t close hers if she’s going to follow him, so she waits, doing nothing. Her legs begin to protest the prolonged exertion in this unfamiliar position, but the trace of fire starting to bloom in her muscles doesn’t bother her. It’s...ferocious. It burns the way she does inside, sometimes.

Obi-Wan cracks an eye open and looks at her. Padmé doesn’t flinch. “What?” she challenges. “You aren’t doing anything yet.”

He raises an eyebrow at her. “I am breathing,” he says.

“So am I.”

“Not yet, you aren’t,” he says, and in the span of a moment, he seems to grow in authority before her. His voice shifts into the calm certainty of a millennia of tradition, the well-worn tracks of an ancient, unbroken line of instruction. “Attend.”

He closes his eyes again, and this time she watches the slow rise and fall of his chest, the slight shift of tunic as his ribs expand. “All meditation begins with the breath. You breathe in life, I breathe in the Force; without either of those things both of us are nothing.”

What a strange thing to say. “I’m not Force-sensitive, Obi-Wan.”

“It does not matter. You are not Force sensitive, but the Force is in you nonetheless. We are all of us full of it. Your people are full of it. Your planet is full of it.” He breathes in, slow, and she attempts to follow him. In. Full. “Your breath must fill more than your lungs. Without breath, the body starves. Without the Force, life starves. Therefore you must let it suffuse you. Breath; the Force. Everywhere. Small, forgotten places. Empty places. You must allow yourself to be full. A gas expands to fill a container – your breath will expand to fill you, if you allow it.”

She does not answer. She is breathing. He falls into silence beside her, joining her rhythm. Inhale, beat, exhale, beat. She does not count the minutes. They slip by into nothing.

“Now,” he says. “With me.”

She trains her eyes on him and follows as he moves, one bright light and its smaller, slighter reflection, moving in a bumpy sort of unison. The fire in her leg muscles climbs higher, but it doesn’t faze her. She breathes it out, from everywhere, the small, forgotten places. She exults in it.

“Balance,” he says, maneuvering her hands to the proper places, the knuckles of one fist pressed flat against a vertical open palm, two hands meeting just in front of her lower abdomen. “Two opposing forces.” He sticks his foot back against the inside of her ankle, and she slides her feet apart without needing to be told, dropping back to the correct position. “Close your eyes. Breathe.”

In. Full. Small, forgotten places.

“Now,” he says, stepping back from her. “You will count.”

“How high?” she asks. Her legs are screaming with a pleasant sort of exhaustion, but she’s wobbly, and this position isn’t easy to maintain.

“One hundred,” he replies. Then – “Three times.”

Her eyes fly open. “Obi-Wan, that’s – ”

His eyes are glowing with suppressed mirth. “Three times, apprentice.”

If she starts laughing, she’s going to fall. “Obi-Wan, three times is too many – ”

“Protest again and it shall be six.”

“You know,” she grunts, wriggling down in an attempt to find a slightly more comfortable position, “I’m beginning to think I’ve done Anakin a disservice.”

He raises an eyebrow archly. “Because...?”

“All this time, he was telling the truth about you.”

Obi-Wan snorts. “Impudence. I’d have been running circuits around the Temple for that kind of insolence.”

“Somehow I doubt that ever stopped you.”

And there’s the smile – trademark Kenobi, dimples and all, subtle and half-hidden behind the close-trimmed beard. “No,” he agrees. “You are quite correct. I became an accomplished marathon runner.” Dropping down to the same low, planted stance she is struggling to maintain, he returns to the matter at hand. “Let us begin.”

“Obi-Wan.”

“Mm.” He has already closed his eyes. She wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already made it to twenty while she’s still dithering around trying to get her breathing in order.

“This is the silliest thing I’ve ever done with anybody.”

He doesn’t open his eyes, but the corners his mouth curl up.

“But,” she says, never one to skimp on gratitude, “I like it.” Her legs are shaking and she can’t count the number of joints she’s heard crack since they started this ridiculous exercise, but the anxious tangle in her chest is now tiny threads blowing in the wind, unwound and strewn about by breath and motion. “And I do feel better about tonight. So thank you.”

“I come to serve, Senator.”

Formal response, for someone who just moments ago had been shoving her into positions more suited to a gymnast than a senator. She smiles to herself in private amusement and closes her eyes. Reminds herself to breathe, full, everywhere.

And begins to count.

-chandrila-

Padmé has to give Obi-Wan credit. By now, she has watched him extricate himself from Senator Se’lab’s clutches three times, and while a moonlit cocktail party in a garden of this size provides the Jedi with plenty of spaces to hide, the shadow cast by a group of hulking Ithorian senators is a more creative choice than she had expected, even from him. Observing him from her position on the other side of the lush garden, she bites her lip in an attempt not to laugh at the deadly seriousness with which Obi-Wan keeps the Ithorian delegation between himself and the beverage table towards which the Bothan senator had stumbled.

She cannot pass up such a rare opportunity to tease him. Excusing herself from her group of colleagues, she sidles across the garden towards him, ensconcing herself in the shadows behind the wide backs of Ithorian senators Stonk and Bendon. “Master Kenobi,” she greets him, smoothly.

Obi-Wan’s cool voice betrays nothing. “Senator.”

Padmé fights to keep a straight face. “I see you’ve made Senator Se’lab’s acquaintance.”

“I have made his acquaintance several times,” Obi-Wan replies. “He had little memory of our first meeting at our second, and no memory of our second at our third. Forgive me, but if I can avoid a fourth such performance, I will. I grow tired of introducing myself.”

Padmé stifles a smile. It isn’t fair, that one so skilled in diplomacy to earn himself a galactic-wide nickname should hate it so much. “And did the Honorable Senator from Bothawui tire of your company?”

“Sadly, no.”

“Then how – ” She narrows her eyes at him suspiciously. “You didn’t – ”

Obi-Wan gives her an affronted look. “Senator Amidala, what sort of nefarious rogue do you take me for?” He chances a harried glance past the Ithorians, checking for any signs of his unwanted companion’s return. “Along with the memories of our previous two meetings, the good Senator appeared to have forgotten how exactly it was that he’d been able to achieve such an impressively amnesiac and befuddled state. I merely reminded him about the open bar.”

“Formidably underhanded,” she says, approvingly. “But then, that’s why they call you the Negotiator.”

Obi-Wan makes a face at the nickname. “Yes,” he says. “And if I could only negotiate myself out of this whole affair, I would perhaps believe the title to have been aptly bestowed.”

“Obi-Wan,” she chides him. “The best negotiators know when to call for assistance.”

He raises an eyebrow, just slightly, in what might be a faint feather-brush of amusement, then follows her gaze over his shoulder, to where the clearly intoxicated Bothan senator is making his weaving way through the festive crowd back towards them. Obi-Wan’s eyes widen very slightly, in definite alarm. “Indeed. Very well said. In that case, my lady, consider my distress signal activated.”

She extends an arm to him formally. “Walk with me.”

Thanks to the friendship she and Bail share with Mon Mothma, Padmé knows the Chandrilan Diplomatic Gardens better than most in attendance. She knows Obi-Wan, too, better than most, not because he opens himself to her, exactly, but – well, being in her position, one hears things, and Padmé is well-practiced at extracting trivia and truth from Anakin’s well-worn litany of complaints, worries, and fears.

She guides them serenely down a lesser-used path, the raucous festivities behind them fading into a murmur. “Here,” she points. They turn through a simple, cream-colored arch into a wider space, far-away party sounds now faint, distant enough not to grate on the nerves. All about them, only the cheerful babble of water, tumbling from multiple small falls into a network of mossy pools and rock-bordered streams.

Obi-Wan turns his head from side to side to take in the shimmering falls and eddying pools, chin rising as if in response to some sound only he can hear, features lightening. “We’ve a place very like this, in the Temple,” he says. “The Room of a Thousand Fountains.”

Padmé knows this. Knows too that it is a favorite haunt of his, though she will not tell him so. Better he think her fortuitous choice a welcome coincidence, for she knows what she knows about him from Anakin, and, strictly speaking, should not have access to such confidences.

“I’ve heard of it,” she says instead. “It’s much larger than this, though, I think.” She waves a hand at the small garden.

“Size matters not,” Obi-Wan intones, as though reciting an oft-repeated adage, and extends a hand gracefully under one of the falls’ streams. To Padmé’s surprise, the water curves around his upturned palm, bending as if repelled by an invisible barrier before continuing its swan dive into the clear pool below.

“Just a game,” Obi-Wan says, in answer to her unasked question. “And an exercise in control. One practiced by Temple younglings.”

Not any game Padmé knows. She and her sister – then later, her handmaidens – were more apt to occupy themselves with jumping straight into the water, shrieking with glee, than with avoiding its flow. “What’s the objective?”

“Just this,” he says. “Stay dry.” He curls his fingers up to his palm and then flat again in a gentle wave, the water above his hand twisting in a delighted dance before resuming its tumble around an untouched sleeve. “Even the youngest initiates, when exhibiting proper control, can easily redirect a flow of water around their forms. One stands under the falls, keeping dry, while their agemates or teachers attempt to break their focus.” He quirks a smile, one laced with equal parts memory and mischief. “One gets distracted, one gets wet.”

She smiles at him. “I take it you were good at this game?”

“I was passable,” he says with a diffident shrug. “But I did not win every time. My own clan members’ antics were at times difficult to ignore.”

“And Anakin?” she asks. She can’t help herself.

Obi-Wan pull his arm out from the falls, hand disappearing back into the long sleeve of his robe. “Terrible,” he says bluntly. “Without a doubt the worst in his class.”

Padmé refrains from making an unbecoming snort. So she will have something amusing to hold over Anakin’s head when she returns to Coruscant.

“You mustn’t misunderstand me, of course; Anakin is highly capable and could easily manipulate the water were he left to his own devices, but I’m afraid his mental discipline left much to be desired.” Obi-Wan sighs and shakes his head. “Anakin is so easily distracted – he reserved his limited ability to focus for very singular pursuits.”

“Such as...?”

Obi-Wan looks to be almost on the verge of rolling his eyes, but that would be un-Jedi, and he settles for a narrowing of them and crooking his fingers sardonically into the universal sign for quotes. “‘Fixing stuff,’ I believe he said.”

Padmé can’t help but laugh at that, and Obi-Wan indulges her merriment graciously. Looking re-energized, far more hale and hearty than he had in the reception area proper, he stretches out a hand. Ribbons of water arc away from the falls all around them, streaming through the air and coalescing into a shining globe above his palm, a miniature model of Mon Cala. The sphere’s globular surface ripples and turns slowly, casting small refractions of moonlight over the courtyard. Small-scale beauty, to be sure, but Padmé only has eyes for Obi-Wan’s face, lit with reflected light from below, a study in simple happiness.

A Jedi at play, she realizes. Most people didn’t believe there really was such a thing.

“That’s lovely,” she says, peering into the globe’s transparent yet distorted depths. Something about it...she is suddenly reminded of Anakin, in another time and place, levitating a muja fruit in much the same way, and with the same burst of simple enjoyment. “But I thought frivolous uses of the Force were discouraged.”

Obi-Wan raises his eyebrows at her, accepting the friendly challenge. “Frivolous?” He turns his hand so that the palm now faces outward. Rippling with light, the globe coasts several feet away and comes to rest over a pathetically drooping momus bush, its leaves yellowed and cracked, balmgrass spiky and dry around its exposed roots. Obi-Wan twitches his fingers downward, and the globe disintegrates, water sluicing down in a joyful shower onto the parched earth, transforming the yellow dust to a rich, wet brown. He gives her a significant look. “The preservation of life is never frivolous, Senator.”

Her smile climbs its way out of her with ease. Of course. An answer for everything. “I stand corrected.”

In the distance, a chorus of laughter rises above the sound of burbling water, followed by what sounds like someone calling for a toast. Obi-Wan casts a lingering glance at the falls, then back at the arched entrance to the grotto. “We should return,” he says, and if that is reluctance in his voice she will not comment on it.

She nods in agreement. “You’re right. Typho will start to worry.”

Taking her outstretched arm, Obi-Wan frowns. “I am quite certain I gave Captain Typho my word that no harm would come to you whilst I am your escort. He must learn to trust me.”

“He does trust you. But he’s a worry-woolamander. It’s his job.” It was, after all, why she had personally selected him to replace his retired uncle as her new head of security. But, at the same time, she had grown weary of the constant trail of guards orbiting her at all times, rings of human satellites, so many she can hardly blink without catching a glimpse of security burgundy in her peripheral vision. Far preferable to have an escort of one Jedi, especially this Jedi, than that wall of armed guards.

And besides, Obi-Wan had promised. While Captain Typho may not appreciate the import of such a gesture, Padmé does – Obi-Wan Kenobi’s word is worth his weight in solid aurodium bars and more. He has nothing left to prove to anybody, on that count.

At the threshold to the main garden, wide flowering pathways thronging with diplomats and officials and lackeys alike, Obi-Wan takes in a resigned breath. “Once more into the breach,” he proclaims, with tragicomic stoicism.

She cocks her head at him in sympathy. “Straight to the dance floor,” she advises, and they set off, she steering him in the proper direction. “I doubt even a Bothan will try to cut in on a Jedi.”

Obi-Wan snorts under his breath. “Her Highness is grown very devious, in her slippery Senatorial position,” he murmurs.

“And Master Kenobi very witty, in his old age,” she shoots back.

Obi-Wan favors her with a grin, a real grin, full and shining with rarely displayed pleasure. He bows to her, ushering her onto the formal dance floor with a graceful sweep of his hand. “You had better hope your earlier supposition is correct,” he says, eyes glinting with the same clever playfulness she’d seen in him earlier. “The Bothan senators have hooves, you know.”

#pan sharing star wars fic in 2021 - no one could have predicted #anyway as i said these are seven years old #please forgive them #XD #star wars #fic

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shatouto · 4 years

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will anakin and obi-wan get leia too or just luke in your redeemng vader au? also, i don't know if this is intentional, but every time something romantic and soft happens in the redeeming vader au, there's soft circles around anakin and obi-wan, which is super cute. i love this au a lot and i love it in your art style

you bet im wracking my brain to think of a way for them to meet leia. i am DYING for anakin to meet leia. i don’t know how it happens yet, but consider it a yes from me i need to make it happen i want it to happen—

anyway- yeah!!!! i dont always draw ‘real’ backgrounds bc i like to use the space behind a character in a panel to set the mood - kinda like how there would be ambiance music in films? (i draw a lot of inspiration from cinematography) so yeah, i mean, the soft circles are actually pretty on the nose right? but it’s such an easy and soft shorthand and i can’t help myself haha- im so glad you like it!! and ;A; my art style... im so happy let me hug u

#anon #ask #the soft circles are so shoujo lmao #i overuse it ngl #but i will continue to #redeeming vader au commentary

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sweetmugofcocoa · 4 years

Text

Last Breath of Peace

This was a requested fic for @grimthejedisith‘s character, Grim.

This was a ton of fun to write, and I hope you like it! I don’t do requests like this often, but I appreciated the challenge it was.

Keep in mind, I do not have a beta. This has not been nitpicked for mistakes like spelling.

Enjoy! And cry. Because....

Summary: Grim goes with her master, Obi-wan Kenobi, to Utapau to finally stop Grievous. Warning: angst, Order 66, canon typical violence Words: 2,622

“Fortunately, most of the cities are concentrated on this small continent here,” Cody says, continuing his report of the planet Grievous has hidden on. Grim tries to pay attention, but she keeps glancing at the troopers milling around, prepping for the coming fight.

“Right, Padawan?” Kenobi asks.

Grim turns to look at him, “Hm?”

Kenobi smiles gently. “We’ll keep the enemy distracted until the troops can land,” he reminds her.

“Oh, yes, of course,” she states, smiling in return.

Kenobi turns to the clone commander, “Just don’t take too long.” He motions for Grim to follow him to a spot void of any troopers. “Something is bothering you, Grim.”

Grim sighs, “I just have… a bad feeling, that’s all.”

“Is it about what you told me? About your home planet?” Her master asks.

“Yes,” Grim answers, “the things that I know will come to pass, the things I want to change—”

“Padawan,” Kenobi says, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “the Force is strong with you, but do not dwell too much on what may, or may not happen. You have already changed some things, true?”

Grim nods, “Yes Master.”

“Then perhaps you have done enough,” Kenobi suggests, “keep an open mind, but that mind must be clear, or anything will squeeze past your common sense and muddy your actions.” He finishes with a signature smile of his, which always eased his padawan.

“Of course, Master.”

Kenobi stands up, “Shall we review the plan?”

“No, sir, I heard,” Grim says. She manages a smile, “Land, find Grievous, beat him, and save the galaxy.” She huffs, “Just like usual.”

Kenobi laughs, “I believe this is the last time we’ll be seeing the good general.”

They head to their fighters, Kenobi walking calmly, while Grim is antsy to get going, despite the chill that sits in her stomach.

“You’re fighters fully prepped,” one of the troopers tells her.

“Thank you, Sergeant,“ she says, getting seated.

“Remember Cody, don’t delay,” Kenobi says.

“When have I ever let you down?” Cody asks. Grim flinches, but since she’s in her fighter already, her reaction is hidden by the thick glass.

“Very well, the burden is on us not to destroy all the droids until you arrive.”

Cody turns to Grim, “Stay safe out there, kid.”

Grim gives him a lazy salute and starts the launch sequence. Cody’s face morphs into concern when she doesn’t smile in return. Grim follows Master Kenobi out into space.

“May the Force be with you, Master,” Grim says as they connect to their hyperspace rings.

“And you, my young padawan,” Kenobi replies through the comms, “and as my master once said, be mindful of the future, but not at the expense of the moment.”

“I understand, master,” Grim says, “let’s stop this mega-droid once and for all.”

Kenobi’s warm laugh echoes in the cockpit, “With that, I whole heartedly agree.”

***

Grim lands her ship next to Master Kenobi’s on one of the empty spots in the Utapau hanger. Master Kenobi gets out first, signaling for Grim to stay in her ship. She waits as he talks to the ambassadors, but scans their surroundings. There are droids watching higher up, in the shadows. She leaves her hand on the eject button, should more droids come from the rafters. A group of shorter life forms scamper over to the Jedi ships, resupplying fuel.

Master Kenobi bows and returns to his fighter. He talks to R4, about contacting Cody. Grim’s controls turn on without prompting, which means that R4 relayed the message to her own astromech. Kenobi watches the droids above. When they leave, he signals Grim to follow him. They watch as the astromechs pilot out into space.

“The people here are scared,” Grim states, feeling it in the Force. She hopes it hides her growing unease from her master.

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, “they are being watched by battle droids. We are going to the tenth level, that’s where most of the droids are.”

“Think they’ll buy our deception?” Grim asks, following him further into the shadows.

“They’re droids, my young padawan,” Kenobi smiles at her, “when have they done anything smart?”

Grim rolls her eyes at the comment. Her master doesn’t have the biggest opinion of droids.

“I’m surprised you asked,” Kenobi continues, “you’ve never asked how something may or may not go.”

Grim realizes this, “Just trying to lighten the mood, Master.”

“Try that with Grievous and he’ll have a different reaction.” They reach an elevator shaft and Kenobi starts heading up.

“Master, isn’t the tenth level higher up?” Grim asks as Kenobi steps out of the elevator shaft.

“Yes. But we will need something here first,” Kenobi responds. Grim follows, coming out at a pen for varactyls. Kenobi selects one, and Grim mounts her own. “Let’s go,” Kenobi says, leading the way out of the pen. The varactyls warble the whole way to level ten, that Grim is surprised they managed to not be found.

***

Master Kenobi crouches as he watches the scene below them. Grim stays next to the reptilian creatures. General Grievous is talking to the separatist politicians below.

“Your ship, is waiting,” Grievous says. The group stands to leave. Kenobi stands as well, nodding to his padawan. Grim comes to stand beside him. They take off their cloaks together and jump down into the center of the room, droids lining the walls.

“Hello there,” they say in unison.

“General Kenobi,” Grievous says. “You are a bold one.” Grievous looks at Grim, coughing once, “Pest.” He then cackles, “Kill them.”

The droids with electric staffs walk forward. The Jedi duo dispatch them easily, Kenobi bringing a giant metal vent down on top of them and Grim slicing the heads off of any that try to reach for their staffs while pinned.

They walk towards Grievous. The B1 droids raise their guns, but Grievous yells, “Back away! I will deal with these Jedi slimes, myself.”

“Your move,” Kenobi says.

“You fool,” Grievous says, standing taller. “I’ve been trained in your Jedi arts,” he unclips his cloak from his shoulders, “by Count Dooku.”

“And Kenobi trained the Jedi that killed him,” Grim mutters to herself, just loud enough for Grievous to hear.

Grievous drops his cloak and his four arms separate. He turns on his lightsabers one at a time; two green, two blue. “Attack. Kenobi.”

Kenobi smirks. He moves to his beginning stance, while Grim puts her lightsaber in front, the hue turning her face purple.

Grievous then spins his blades around, stalking closer to them. Grim moves back out of the way, keeping her stance facing Grievous while feeling for her master’s first move. He lunches to block one of the sabers, so she goes for a different one.

Grievous pulls away, attacking at Kenobi. Grim leaps over him, slashing towards his shoulder, before landing behind him. Both the attack and the following one at his back are blocked by wildly swinging sabers. She goes on the defensive for a moment, drawing his attacks in and centering herself.

Kenobi chops off one of Grievous’ hands. While he’s protesting, Grim finds another, the limb and lightsaber it was holding falling to the platform below them. Grievous turns to face her, anger in his eyes.

Blaster fire rains down on the room. Clones pour over the railing above, landing on the floor and continuing to take out all the battle droids present. Grim deflects a few more swipes of a saber from Grievous, then he runs for a transport, sitting inside the giant wheel and mowing down anyone in his path. The two Jedi jump out of the way.

Kenobi calls for his varactyl, and it arrives along with Grim’s mount. The two jump down and race after Grievous, who has gone out on top of a Separatist sphere wedged into the rock face. Grievous takes a blaster out from a compartment and shoots back at the Jedi. Kenobi has trouble keeping balance while his varactyl runs over the smooth decline. The lightsaber in his hand flies off, landing somewhere below him.

Grim, on the other hand, has to let go of her varactyl, as it was hit by a blaster bolt and begins tumbling off the side of the sphere. At the last moment, she jumps onto the back of her master’s varactyl. “Cody’s going to have a fit when the battles over,” Grim states, out of reflex.

The varactyl jumps and they continue chasing Grievous through a cave system. The path widens and Kenobi presses the creature to pick up the pace. When they are right next to Grievous, he takes out an electrostaff and jabs at them with it. Kenobi grabs the staff, but is hauled off the varactyl in the process.

The creature yelps and digs its feet into the ground. “No no no,” Grim says, “Boga, keep going!”

The varactyl protests. Grim snaps the reigns and it continues, but the pair of fighters are already out of sight. At the end of the tunnel, Grim leaps off the varactyl, heading straight for Grievous as her master slides over the edge of the platform. She ignites her lightsaber, which she had clipped to her belt.

Grim harnesses her emotions, finding the parts of her that are rooted in her drive to change the outcome of the galaxy, the fear of what is out of her hands, and the anger in her of not being at her master’s side for part of this battle. She uses it, minding her teaching, to press Grievous into defense. He keeps up with the electrostaff still in hand, but then a blaster bolt hits him in the back. He turns, getting struck again, this time in the chest. After a few more bolts, Grievous goes up in flames and collapses.

Kenobi pulls himself onto the platform, walking over as he tosses a blaster away, “So uncivilized.” He turns to Grim as she deactivates her lightsaber. “You have a cloud around you, padawan.”

Grim nods, closing her eyes. She tries to find the calm in the storm, a way to ground herself in order to come down from the flurry of passion needed to fight with the nearly-forbidden form. But the adrenaline from the fight, along with what she knows is to come, makes it an impossible task.

She feels her master probe the edges of her mind, trying to help alleviate the torrent of emotion. But instead of letting him in, letting him search for the source, she shuts him out. It’s so abrupt that he physically flinches.

“Grim,” Kenobi says cautiously. Grim gives him a shake of her head, trying to build walls so he can’t see. She can’t imagine the reaction he’ll have if he knows.

“Maybe I did change enough,” Grim says, almost more for herself than for him. “The future is always changing,” she adds with a more calm demeanor. Her shields snap into place, and he sees as such.

“Of course,” Kenobi says, “we should check on the men.”

A small chink of her mental armor cracks, just enough to give away a clue as to what’s behind it.

***

They ride Boga down to Commander Cody on a lower platform. “Commander, tell your men to head to the higher levels,” Kenobi says. Grim watches the clones around them, some falling to the ground from a blaster bolt. She hopes they aren’t the luckiest on this battlefield.

“Very good, sir,“ Cody says. He then reaches for his belt, “I believe you’ll be needing this.“ He holds out Kenobi’s lightsaber.

“Thank you, Cody,” he says with a wry smile.

“Commander,” Cody nods too Grim. She stares back. Apprehension builds in her stomach at being so close. She reminds herself of what she said before, that it may not happen. Small things can change a large portion of the future.

“Grim, I’ll head farther up, you help the clones and follow me,” Kenobi says.

Grim slides off the varactyl, then stops and looks at her master, “We’re splitting up?”

“This is the best place for you,” Kenobi says. They make eye contact. He sends impressions to her, his concern, her reluctance to talk to him.

She resolves that the future is too unpredictable. “Master, I need to speak with you,” she says.

“We have a battle to win, my young padawan,” Kenobi says. He pulls at the reigns and turns Boga around, “we’ll talk after.“

He then urges the varactyl on before Grim can protest. She looks at Cody, who is putting his helmet back on. Grim then turns and runs out of the open space. She turns at the shadows of a column, begging to be wrong.

Cody’s posture changes the moment the hologram appears. It’s minute, even harder to see with his helmet on. But he stands there, suddenly a shell. He nods, and the hologram cuts out. He motions to the cliff face, where Master Kenobi is currently climbing with Boga.

“Master look out!” Grim yells. She doesn’t see the outcome of her plea, as she deflects blaster bolts as she gets away from the scene. A group of clones follow her, and she believes she heard Cody’s voice order them on their new mission.

She runs, her mind in full panic mode. She stops after coming around a corner. She turns, waving her hand. The clones following her turn a different corner, giving her a moment of reprieve. Grim closes her eyes, half her focus on the surrounding area, the other projecting as far as she can. “Master Kenobi, where are you?”

She doesn’t get an answer. Tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Check the LAAT/i’s,” a trooper says, “the Jedi might be hiding in there.”

Grim turns to see the transports to her left. She debates running, or staying put. But then someone shouts and she bolts out of pure fear. Blaster bolts rain out around her, the wrong color to be the enemy, but suddenly her enemy none the less.

Clones chase after her, unable to hit her as she deflects as many of the bolts as possible without hitting anyone. She turns her head to check how many are following her, running straight into a long wall along the back of the level she’s on.

She turns, finally counting her pursuers. There are four troopers flanking Boil. “Commander Grim, you are charged with treason against the Grand Army of the Republic,” Boil says, his voice monotone, “and are subject to execution.“

“Boil, don’t do this,” Grim says.

“Men, ready.”

The guns come up.

“Aim.”

Grim’s lightsaber comes up between her and the blasters, her hands shaking.

Before Boil could give the order to fire, a blue saber ignites through his chest. The rest is a fraction of a second as Kenobi dispatches the rest of the firing squad.

Grim stares up at him, still wet from his fall, but otherwise alright. He offers a hand down to her, “Any chance this is what you wanted to talk about?” The usual humor is gone, only regret and barely contained grief. Grim takes his hand, nodding.

“We need to alert the others,” Kenobi says.

“It’s already too late,” Grim murmurs to herself. Kenobi wraps an arm around her shoulders, supporting her as they go to find a ship to take them off the planet. “I couldn’t…”

“Padawan,” Kenobi stops at a spot of relative darkness. Not far away, Cody is asking about Kenobi’s location. He crouches down and looks up at her, “There was nothing more you could do. It will be alright. We just need to stick together.”

Grim can’t muster up the courage to agree with him. He still has no clue what’s to come, not in it’s fullest.

#requested fic #grimthejedisith #fanfiction #star wars #ROTS #other person's oc Grim #angsty #sadness #rip boil #and four random clones #please be kind

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houseswolo · 4 years

Text

Day 1 - 'Tis The Season To Be Thirsting

"Look Rey, mistletoe! Join me... please!"

Aight, aight, here's kicking off the Thirst Order Advent Calendar, and our Thristies' showcase!

Azuwrite

(Tumblr: @ashtyntaytertot | Ao3: Azuwrite )

What got you into Star Wars?

It’s been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. We had Star Wars toys and products. My little brother and I used to fight with our toy lightsabers. I always remember my mom saying Chewbacca was her favorite too (it’s not her icon on Disney plus) joy

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!

I walked out of TFA HATING kylo Ren. Now, walking out of TLJ? A completely different story. The force bond moments definitely helped, but the moment that made me fall in love with Ben solo was when he chose not to kill his mom sob didn’t help that I had become a mom in that time haha

Why do you write / make art?

It’s a great way to get the creative juices flowing (hehehe). I have so many ideas to get out there! Not enough time though weary getting to write/proofread/make mood boards can really be a highlight of my day.

The Object of your Thirst…

Obi Wan Kenobi 😩 oof, that man is everything. Make sexual awakening if you will. So sassy, sarcastic, cunning, the accent, the eyes, the beard, the EVERYTHING. I may have a thing for ewan mcgreggor as well 👀

Favorite Adam look

Definitely the longer hair with the facial hair and leather jacket and plaid. My all time favorite is right clothes, especially t shirts👌🏼 yummmm

Favorite Adam role

Don’t kill me, but I’ve only watched two of his movies 🙈 I love Kylo Ren's character, of course, especially the bde moments 😩 stomp me! But Flip has got to be my favorite so far. He’s everything I love wrapped in a package. Love the mountain man, plaid vibes 👌🏼but Matt was my fav before Flip came along, so hilarious

Which part of Adam do you like the best? That’s like the worst thing to have to decide on 😩 it’s not physical but probably his voice. Mmmm so deep and weakens the knees! For physical, I prefer my boy swol. Gotta love them glorious TLJ titties 🔥

Favorite Star Wars Movie

So wrong that I have to choose! Haha. For the original trilogy-Empire strikes back. Prequel- I like both one and three, just...not two (sorry not sorry) 😂 and for sequel- hmmm gotta give it to TLJ. The throne room scene is hands down my favorite scene from Star Wars. Just chefs kiss

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

As far as physical artwork, I love doing all types and mediums so I won’t get into that haha but as far as writing; definitely found I prefer to write angst as well as crack (though that never starts as my intention 😂). I also adore making mood boards, just such a good time and relaxing thing to do when I’m in the mood for it!

Your TRoS prediction

Again, don’t kill me 😬 I want the Reylo happy ending just as much as anybody, but I’m not going to be surprised if we get shafted. This trilogy has taken so much from previous ones (especially the original), I just wish they were willing to take more risks. So my fear is that they’ll go the Vader redemption route. Aka kylo dies. I will be over the moon if we get what we want (and deserve) though 🙌🏼 fingers crossed!

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Bright rainbow colors coating a dark black center 😂 I’m definitely both vibes. I love dark things and creepy aesthetics, but I also love the cute and adorable side of things too 💕🌈☠️ I’m just a black cupcake with rainbow sprinkles on top

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

I wouldn’t! Not the biggest fan of candy, especially chocolate. Now, tacos, that’s a different story! They’re my favorite food in the whole wide world and people love them. I strive to be a taco

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

As quiet as possible. I’m slowly realizing that my attention span and focus is easily broken. I have a very hard time writing with any little thing going on, I start to get subconsciously anxious (playing with my hair like a mad woman). Unfortunately that means in a house with a newborn, a toddler, and a husband, I don’t get nearly as much writing done as I’d like. It can honestly be heart wrenching when I so desperately want to get my creativity out but ultimate can’t

Are you a dom or sub?

I’m a total sub, like, spank me please and boss me around 🙌🏼 BUT when it comes to blowjobs, I OWN that dick. It is mine and I will destroy you with an orgasm 😂

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

Well. I haven’t done anything too crazy. I’ve had my fair share of doing it in public places but just around the corner and out of sight. I did it in a kid's laundry room who was in my grade during a graduation party. (What’s funny is I had never spoken a word to that kid in my life and still haven’t lolol). Also, I lost my virginity in a tent during 4h fair right next to his best friend who was sleeping 😂 but I’ve only been with one person and that’s my husband, since I was 14 💕

What's your kink?

Uniforms. Police officers and firefighters are my jam. Ugh yum

Use three words to describe yourself

Loyal (the hufflepuff way). Introverted (I regret when I go out, I regret when I stay in, there’s no middle ground 😂). Caring (being a mom and wife has been the best thing in my life. I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Even if caring for myself tends to slip in the process lol).

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

I met this raver kid who decided to give me a raver name (I have never been to a rave in my life lolll). He asked what my favorite color was and what I liked to do and that’s how Azuwrite came to be!

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

I am easily a big spoon. I will spoon the crap out of my husband. I prefer my chest to be warm compared to my back. Plus you get to enjoy the smell of your significant other that way. Does that sound weird? 😂

Do you like it rough or soft?

Soft can be really nice but I’m definitely a rough and tumble girl. I love the hair pulling, pounding type sex with position changes 😂

Favorite toy

I have never used or owned a toy 🙈 I’ve never needed to and I have a hard time spending money on myself hahaha but don’t fret! This girl has perfected her masturbation technique, because I may or may not have been doing it for a very long time haha

Favorite fic you've read

Oof. It feels so wrong to have to pick 😂 I definitely have a top five favorites that really brought me into the fandom. Number one has to go to Berserk by Mallie3. She put so much time and effort into it and it shows! If you haven’t read it, go do it! It’s truly a piece of art

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

I have a top three for my favorite fics I’ve done, my first three. They have so much planned and lovingly created plot behind them. It’s truly unfortunate that I don’t have more written for them. It breaks my heart. Those are my superhero au, high fantasy au, and cowboy Ben 💕 as far as art, I have made wayyyy too many mood boards to pick one joy

Favorite SW character(s) besides Kylo and Rey

Obi Wan. Hands down. No competition. That man is bae and I will forever be his number one fan 💕💕

———

Drnucleus

(Tumblr: @drnucleus | Twitter: drnucleus | Ao3: drnucleus)

What got you into Star Wars?

My mom putting on the VHS since I was a baby. She was a fan and made sure I became one too!

What made you a Reylo? Lightbulb moment!The way he looks at her when she calls the legacy saber to herself in TFA.

Why do you write / make art?

Because no one else was gonna write kink fic that focused on the beauty of it instead of just the smut.

The Object of your Thirst…

Adam and Daisy (girl makes me question my sexuality)

Which Adam look do you like the best?

TROS. Also I like any of his looks from movies/tv

Which Adam avatar/ role do you like the best?

I love Paterson, but I think Ben Solo is my favorite.

Which part of Adam do you like the best?

Self deprecating humor and thoughtful answers to interview questions

Favorite Star Wars Movie

The Last Jedi and Empire Strikes Back

What do you like to write / draw / paint the most?

Romance, kink, comedy, science competence porn

Your TRoS Prediction

Romantic Reylo and a deliciously cheesy HEA

If you were an aesthetic... (colors, images, feels....)

Purple, green, teal, galaxy images and velvet textures with overstuffed comfort furniture

If you were a candy bar, what would your name be?

Nougatine

What's your ideal environment for writing / creating?

Comfy chair, music, tea or wine

Are you a dom or sub?

Dom

What's the most exotic/wierd place you've gotten intimate?

Back of a pickup truck under the stars.

What's your kink?

Communication and goddess worship, also anatomically on men, forearms, hands, eyes.

Use three words to describe yourself

Witty, driven and anxious

Meaning behind your nick / ID name

It was from a super hero name generator!

Are you a big spoon or little spoon?

Depends on my mood.

Do you like it rough or soft?

Also depends on my mood.

Favorite toy

Sex toy: the fainting goat vibrator, regular toy - my apple watch

Favorite fic you read

Unbidden by Perry Downing

Favorite fic you wrote or favorite art you made

Bedroom Hymns

Favorite SW character besides Kylo and Rey

Leia

cc: @tazwren @deadlikemoi @drnucleus @ashtyntaytertot @lostinqueue-ffa @my-jedi-life @shestoolazytologin @kaybohls @nite0wl29 @cosmo-gonika @wilsonthinks66 @roguesinside @areylofan @3todream3 @koderenn @queenoferebor @thereylowritingden @housedadam @house-crylo @houseplaidam

#writers #reylo fanart #reylo fic #reylo fam #reylo #reylo fanfic #reylo humor #artist

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