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#Anakin is having visions again 😅
padawansuggest · 1 year
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Anakin: *to Rex* What would be a worse way to die; set on fire, or sliced in half by a saber.
Obi-Wan: *handing Cody a cup of caff* Anakin, you’re so odd. I plan on dying peacefully in my sleep, snuggled up in Alpha’s big burly arms.
Alpha 17: whooooo *high fives Obi-Wan while other clones agree around them*
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forcearama · 2 years
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Vader: [text] yooooooo lol well that was a weird fuckin few days Obi-Wan: Who is this? Vader: lol cmon dont play dumb Obi-Wan: You still use this number??? How?? Vader: this place is run by clowns no one knows i still have this comm Vader: well run by clowns except for me ofc Vader: couldnt sense you in the force before so i didnt think there was any point in texting but nooooowwwwww i know better 😚 Obi-Wan: I hate to disappoint, but I'm afraid you'll find my device is untraceable. Vader: yeah im working on it just you wait Vader: so did u also see me in the bacta tank or???? Vader: bc ngl i didn't super know we could do that??? Obi-Wan: Yes, I saw you. Vader: wow lol ok weird, gonna have to see what else we can do with that 👀 stay tuned Vader: also did u know i was alive bc tbh you looked FREAKED the fuck out it was hilarious. love scaring the shit out of people. Obi-Wan: No. I didn't know. And nothing about this is comical, Anakin. Vader: eeeeeeeeeyyyy "Anakin"??? I thought you said you knew that guy was dead! 😅 Obi-Wan: Vader. Obi-Wan: Darth. Obi-Wan: Whatever. It doesn't matter. It's over. I am going to block this number and move on with my life. Vader: you might move on but ur never gonna block me Obi-Wan: Don't be so sure. Vader: ok old man whatever you say [10 minute pause] Obi-Wan: Stop that. You cannot do that. It's wrong. Vader: lolllll cool it worked guess i can send you visions Vader: I thought you said you were gonna block my number Obi-Wan: Well there hardly seems to be a point if it's either get texts or have you sending me that sort of a thing through the Force. Vader: 😇 why not both?? Obi-Wan: Anakin that is FILTHY. Vader: it was wasn't it?? Obi-Wan: And I very much do NOT remember that day the same way you do, apparently. Vader: hmmmmm I like my version better 😏 Vader: gotta run to a mtg now but i'll "see" you again soon Vader: get it Vader: bc i'll see you in the bond Vader: and we'll be doing stuff Obi-Wan: Yes you've made your point!!
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gffa · 1 year
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Sorry in advance if this is an incoherent ramble, but I have Thoughts about the Jedi and emotional regulation I want to share with you, if it's okay.
So I have ADHD and pretty strong emotional disregulation that I really, really struggle with. In my late teens/early twenties I was convinced that my emotions, all of them, were inherently destructive and harmful to others because of how intense they are.
My favorite Star Wars character is Anakin and I think you can guess why 😅. I don't really like admitting it but I understand him and relate to him sooo much.
Okay here's the relevant part: I love the Jedi Order's teachings about mindfulness and emotional control. So often I do feel ruled by my emotions! I can so easily see how embracing that leads to the dark side, and I know that staying in the light really is a constant battle against one's own darkness because I've done that! Without the psychic/telekinetic powers, obviously, but honestly it's a good thing I can't accidentally fling objects around the room if I get upset. I've often wished the Jedi Order was real and I could be part of it just so I could learn to better control my emotions.
It's why I just don't get the argument that Jedi "repress" their emotions. Where does that even come from? They have such sensible responses to such stressful situations. And unbridled unregulated emotion is NOT a good thing, as I know far too well. The Sith don't practice "emotional freedom" or whatever those people call it. With my disregulation problems I'm not "free," I'm even more shackled by it. I hate it and I want to control it- which is what the Jedi practice.
Anyway, just wanted to share my point of view on that whole debate. I also just want to say thanks for running this blog! I adore your meta posts and I love your unending Jedi positivity. You're definitely my favorite Star Wars blog. You're so good at articulating analyses that I can see for myself in the text but am terrible at putting into words lol. I'm sorry that your popularity attracts so many people who want to argue with you or be nasty. I hope you know how happy you make us fellow Jedi-supporters. 😊
Hi!  This ask was from before today’s discussion on the Force and emotions (here and here), so it’s good timing to come across it in my drafts again! You and I are in a similar boat--I relate to Anakin the most, too.  And I had a lot of years in my life without a solid grasp on my emotions, where my anger was entirely justifiable, but it was absolute misery and cost me a lot of time and relationships with people.  In the moment, it felt good to lash out with that anger, but I was consumed by it, that’s all I was so much of the time, and it really, really was not good to let my emotions run rampant that way.  So, I understand and I’m sorry that you’ve gone through that and I’m glad you seem like you’re in a better place now. While the Jedi may not be real, thankfully a lot of the same ideas totally are, like Buddhism is real, different kinds of therapy techniques are real, we absolutely can learn to regulate our emotions, even if it’s really hard.  You could probably even do a Google search for “how to learn to regulate my emotions” and find some good starting places! I can’t speak for any part of fandom, especially one I’m not part of, but I suspect that a lot of the “Jedi repress emotions” thing comes from a conflict of how mainstream media almost always supports the idea that emotions fuel powers, that if you tap into your anger or any other intense emotion, you’ll get a major power-up and you can save the day with it.  Think of almost any major display of power in a superhero movie and it’s usually because the character just had an explosion of emotion, right?  Because their control on their temper finally snapped or because they suddenly became tunnel-visioned about who they needed to save.  It’s everywhere. Star Wars, in contrast, says:
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But we’re primed to think emotional regulation is suppression.  We’re primed to think that it’s not being true to ourselves, that we’re chaining a part of ourselves up.  We’re primed to think that any kind of sacrifice or concession to the greater society is suppression of the self. So, along come the Jedi who say, “Actually, emotional regulation is good.  Sometimes you do have to sacrifice things to make the world better, but the selfness love for other people is worth it.” we’re primed to think they’re suppressing themselves and living half-lived lives. But that’s not true for the worldbuilding in Star Wars.  Individualism is not king in Star Wars.  Selflness and care for others and the willingness to understand that life is impermanent and we have to let go of things are the core themes. And you’re absolutely right--one of Lucas’ themes in Star Wars is, "Most of my movies are about the fact that you're in that little place, it's the little prison in your brain—the door's open but you can't leave. But all you have to do is walk out and say, 'Hey! I'm gonna do this.'” (Sundance Q&A, 2015) and  “All of my movies are about one thing.  Which is the fact that the only prison you’re in is the prison of your mind.  And if you decide to open the door and get out, you can.  There’s nothing stopping you.“ (American Voices, 2015) The dark side is a prison in your mind, one you’re trapping yourself into.  You’re not free, your emotions are ruling you.  They control you because you can’t stop yourself from screaming or lashing out or destroying things in your rage, you can’t stop from saying hurtful things to the people you care about.  That’s not freedom, that’s being dragged along in the wake of your own unchecked feelings.  It’s a dark pit that you have to decide to climb out of. And the Jedi echo that theme:     "You said we would be trapped."     "Not by the cave you were but by your mind. Lessons, you have learned. Find courage, you did.  Hope, patience. Trust, confidence, and selflessness." --Yoda, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, “The Gathering”
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kenobster · 7 months
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judging by the descriptions on your fic poll i don't think you have to worry about ANYONE reading your fics
(FYI, pretty confident anon is one of the OPs in this post)
OH SHIT no one is reading my fics??? Fuck. I could've sworn they were... lemme go check...
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Well, damn that's a shame... but I guess it's possible that the comments on Five Peggats Each are hate comments... I mean, that is the fic where Obi-Wan & Anakin are locked in a cell and repeatedly raped for nine chapters 😬
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Hmm, could be wrong, but I think maybe people are reading my writing....?😅 So while you're stewing on that, I think they deserve to read it more. And since Five Peggats Each, my beloved rape fic, won the poll you speak of, I think I'll share a little something depraved....
As Anakin shoots forward, as he blinks to clear his vision—as he blinks again because what the ever-loving fuck—he sees why. For as long as he lives, he will never forget why. A seventh tentacle—unlike the others, spooling from the creature's mouth, stringy and thin and an umbilical chord's shade of red—is flesh deep down Obi-Wan's throat and pumping something into his stomach, Anakin knows, because he can see pockets of liquid rolling along the bare inches of the tentacle's base like a snake's digestive track. Worse, worse, worse, he can see the fluid bulging in Obi-Wan's neck as it passes through his esophagus. Obi-Wan's eyes are wide and panicked, and his now-free hands are clawing at the appendage as it strangles him from the inside out. They don't teach things like this in the Temple. In the Temple, they teach younglings about the cultural and sociopolitical structures of differing societies around the galaxy: how different species care for their young, how different species prioritize certain etiquettes and customs, and how different species have varying biological needs in terms of nutrition, reproduction, and climate. They don't teach younglings the sexual habits of the species on F'tral. They don't teach nine-year-olds the intricacies of how an aquatic cephalopod might rape. Something in Anakin's brain snaps—it just snaps. Any shred of human within him—Jedi, slave, whore, or otherwise—it vanishes. It's replaced by the feral instinct of a contagiously rabid animal. Anakin loses it. By the time he is able to distinguish between various shades of red, his teeth have chewed through the seventh tentacle, and the Iyra is a howling, writhing mess on the ground. Anakin has his mouth full of amputated tissue and fluid and blood. The other end is still down Obi-Wan's throat, so he starts pulling, and pulling, and pulling, and pulling, like he's at a carnival, at a circus, and a performer has swallowed a vibroblade and when he coughs it up, a ribbon is coming out, and coming out, and coming out, and coming out, and there isn't enough ocean on the entire planet of Kamino to supply the tears that will have to stream down Anakin's face for the rest of his life, and when it finally flops out of Obi-Wan's mouth, the end of its tail is still wriggling like the body of a beheaded henru, and Anakin can hear himself wailing, and his sobs sound like the mating calls of a whale.
And, as a parting gift for any of my lovely readers who would like to know, chapter 10 is just another weekend a way. :')
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rainintheevening · 10 months
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(This got incredibly long, so I put it under a cut. This also only covers The Force Awakens.😅)
What if Rey's story went like this?
We meet the desert girl, orphan, fending for herself. Seems ordinary.
Then we see her doing little things that are clearly using the Force. She never talks about this, and it seems second-nature to her, almost unconscious, except she never does it where anyone else can see.
We see her memories as nightmares: flashing lightsabers, screaming, fire, Luke Skywalker's face, his voice screaming for her to run. A tall black-haired young man weilding a brilliant green lightsaber in the middle of a crowd of troopers, a hail of blasterfire.
We see her wake with a painful headache, and she tells BB-8 it's always like that. She always dreams, and it always hurts, and she can never remember what she dreamed. She tells the droid there's a lot she doesn't know, or doesn't remember. Who her family was, how she got to Jakku, who left her behind. She knows that much: she can do special things with her hands and her mind, she's a good pilot, and she was left behind. Or did she leave someone else behind? Actually that one isn't always clear.
When we get to the Millennium Falcon, she knows how to fly it, like something she once knew coming back to her. Finn asks how she knows this stuff, and she answers, "I've done it before." But she stops, confused. That's not right. Is it? She hasn't seen this ship before. Has she? Ugh, her head is hurting.
She uses the Force in front of Finn, to save him, and he stares at her in awe. "You're a Jedi," he whispers, and pain sears across her forehead. "No, I'm not!" she snaps, angry and afraid, but she can't explain why. Other than the reality that to be a Jedi means death at the hands of Supreme Leader Snoke.
(Snoke is the clear villain here, spoken of in whispers, he is the terrible spectre looming over the galaxy. The Knights of Ren are mere pawns, compared to him. There are four knights, all introduced at the same time. They all work together apparently on a level. General Hux is in charge. At first it's hard to distinguish Kylo Ren from the others, he seems to act no different. But there are little things, subtle moments that show he's not as cookie cutter as the others. We never see any of their faces.)
When she meets Han, he is instantly suspicious of her. "I'm Rey," she answers his question, startled and a little angry, as another ache tickles around her skull. Her age? "I don't know for sure! 20, I think."
Han plunks down in a chair, pale and shaken. "You're alive," he whispers, "Rey. You're alive." Chewie gives a roar and sweeps her up into a hug, which makes her shriek in surprise and smack him till he puts her down.
But as soon as it's clear she is only confused, and doesn't remember some things he prompts her about, he clams up tight. Rey is annoyed as heck. Finally someone who knows something about her!! Who won't talk. She catches him watching her all the time, and sometimes he looks so sad it hurts her too. He and Chewie have a very intense conversation, with Chewie actually attempting to whisper.
They fly the Falcon like they've done it all before. Han lets slip that he was the one who taught her to fly, he and– He cuts himself off, and there's another pulse of pain in her head.
Rey hates this. And yet there's something really comforting about both the man and the wookie. She knows she can trust them. She just really wishes she knew why.
When Anakin’s old lightsaber is found, it hits Rey hard, memories assaulting her through the Force until she passes out. She sees lightsabers dancing, hears a voice giving instruction, and young ones laughing breathlessly. Before it turns into the old nightmare visions. Again she comes to with a splitting headache, and again she doesn't recall what she saw. She won't touch the saber.
Han won't leave them. He quickly becomes super protective of Rey. She asks him if he's her father, and he turns away, shaking his head.
The trio gets caught, finally, by the Knights of Ren. Rey is terrified to use her powers where they would know her to be Force-sensitive, so she lets them get caught.
Han and Chewie come to bust them out. At some point Han, Finn, and Rey are surrounded by all four of the Knights. Han tosses Finn the lightsaber, because Rey won't touch it, but Finn clearly doesn't know what he's doing. Rey finally snatches it out of his hand, and fights. Two of the Knights go down, but troopers are pouring in.
It's Chewie and Poe, with several spare blasters, who come to the rescue. The escape blurs for Rey, she only knows she’s fighting, and it's a little clumsy, and pretty basic defense most of the time, but she’s done this before and she knows it.
"See, you are a Jedi!" Finn yells at her, and she snaps back, "No, I'm not! I'm nobody! I'm no one!"
One of the Knights has a chance to kill her, but hesitates long enough for Han to shoot him.
They escape to safety, and make the flight back to the Resistance base in a exhausted, wounded sort of silence. Except for Poe, who keeps talking. At the base Han orders them all to stay on the Falcon, while he goes to speak to the General.
We see most of this interaction through the window, through Rey's eyes. She sees Han and Leia meet, hug, kiss, and it's clear how much they love each other, even if there's something awkward hanging between them.
We cut to Han and Leia, as she asks him if he's back for a while this time. Looks like the Falcon needs some serious work. Han doesn't even banter back. He just looks at her and says, "I found Rey."
From the Falcon, Rey sees Leia step away from Han suddenly, turn toward the ship, and it's as if Leia is looking right at her. She ducks away.
Han catches Leia's shoulders. "Wait. She doesn't remember anything. Well, she remembers her name, her age, how to fly. Some of her... training. But not me. Not Chewie. She's been hurt. Here." He taps his temple. Leia frowns,tries to pull away. "Then she needs medical–" Han shakes his head. "No. She–" He looks away, down, anywhere but at Leia as he mumbles. "She needs Luke." Leia stills, puts her hand up to his face. "I could go." Han gives a gusty sigh, looks at her with mixed emotions. "No, princess. They need you here. I'll do it."
Rey and the boys are arguing about what will be done next, when Han stalks up the ramp. "Dameron. Finn. You can get off here. You," he points at Rey, "are with me."
"Where are we going?" Rey demands. "I'm with her," Finn puts in.
Han looks at Rey. "You wanted answers, kid. I know where to find those."
Poe reluctantly disembarks, knowing he needs to return to his job with the Resistance, but extracts a promise from Finn to look out for Rey, and the whole story when they return.
There isn't much talking on the flight. Rey falls asleep. Now the nightmare visions are clearer. She hears people screaming, someone calls her name, picks her up, runs. She clings like a koala to this tall young man with the black hair, who runs so fast, who has a green lightsaber. And then she's falling and there's pain in her head, and she screams, "Ben!"
She wakes to the usual pain. And Han staring at her. "What did you say?" he whispers. "Nothing," she growls, hand pressed over her eyes, forcing her breathing to regulate.
We get the shot of Luke standing on the cliff, looking out over the ocean, and Han clears his throat.
Luke turns. Han says it quickly, "I found Rey."
Luke freezes, his eyes lock on Rey's, and it's like being sucked into a vortex of sound and light and pain. Memories swirl as Rey collapses.
We see it all clearly then: Luke finding the orphan girl, training at his school, laughing with other students, Ben guiding her hands on a lightsaber, curling up together to hear Luke tell a story about Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi, flying the Falcon with Han and Ben and Leia and Chewie, hearing Ben tell her, "As soon as I'm knighted, you can be my apprentice, okay? My padawan. That's what the old Jedi called them. You and me. We'll be a team." "The Team," Rey grinned back.
And then it's all fire and screaming and danger and pain and she feels like she's only half there as Luke scoops her up and says, "I'm here, Rey. I'll get you out of here." Ben is with them, and then he's surrounded by troopers as he screams at them to run, and Luke backs away, and Ben's eyes lock one last time on Rey's, and she sees him mouth her name.
Rey.
Fade to black.
Then we get the shifting shadows of slowly waking, and voices nearby.
Han asks, "Will she be alright?" Luke says, "I managed to heal most of the damage, I think. I've never seen anything like that before. I think it must have been part of the torture when they captured the three of us." An awkward silence. Luke gives a tired sigh. "I can't thank you enough for this, Han. I know it must have been hard–" "My son died to protect her," Han says, deliberately. "You really think I'd leave her behind?"
Rey is awake now, and she sits up, cutting off the conversation. Finn, Han, and Luke turn to stare at her. She looks at Luke. "Master? Master Luke?"
"Rey," he whispers. She slips off the bed, and Luke jumps up and they run together, and he clings to her as if he never wants to let go. "I'm sorry," he says, over and over. "I'm so sorry."
"I remember!" Rey says. "The school at the old Temple, and you teaching me with a lightsaber, and Ben–" She stops, stares at him, looks past him to Han. "Uncle Han! I remember you now, I'm sorry I didn't before. It was–" She shakes her head. "It was when they tortured me. After we were captured. They did something to me. And then you came and Ben– What happened? What happened to Ben? Did he survive?" Her voice trembles to a stop in the awful silence from both Luke and Han.
So the whole story comes out, and gets explained to Finn. How Snoke and his armies attacked the Jedi school, how everyone had scattered, and Luke and Ben Solo and Rey had been on the run together when they were captured. How all of them had been tortured, but Luke had managed to come up with an escape plan. How Luke had gotten Rey, and then Snoke himself had come with his troops, and Ben had stayed to fight them off and give Luke and Rey time to get to safety. How Luke had left Rey in hiding, and when he had come back for her she was gone. How Snoke had gleefully broadcast the news of Ben Solo's death to the galaxy, telling how if the Skywalker hero couldn't save his own nephew, how could anyone trust him?
Luke and Han had fought, both lost in their grief, and had parted ways to not hurt Leia further.
"That was ten years ago now," Luke says quietly. And there's a long silence in the hut.
There's some talk about how Luke can help Rey heal her connection to the Force, and he should resume her training. There's some bickering between Han and Luke, but Rey breaks it up, and they both watch her with a hungry kind of hope.
She's a little blown away, finding the family she always felt she was missing, the ones she had felt left her behind. But still she feels that horrible ache that is Ben's absence. They had been special, the two of them. Linked in the Force in a way Luke had never been able to explain. She realises it must be him she left behind. Because she did. She'd left him behind.
She tells Finn most of this, as they sit out in the sunshine. She closes her eyes, sinks into the Force, and it is like lancing an old wound, because there is pain, but relief as well.
(Far away, a tall figure in black, one of the Knights of Ren, stops in his tracks, turns his head. "What?" says Hux, irritably. "Nothing," says Kylo Ren. Then he keeps walking.)
Rey opens her eyes, and Finn is watching her. "So, who are you again?" "I'm Rey," she says. "And I'm a Jedi."
And cut. Maybe.
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kittimau · 2 years
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Two things: 1. Can you share some of the wips and fic ideas you’ve got squirreled away on your laptop with us? 🥺 2. I wish you loved your writing as much as I love your writing and self doubt or overthinking stuff didn’t hold you back from posting. You are so talented!! Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise!!!
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Thank you sm 😭🥺
Sure, I can share some stuff! I have a doc I fling ideas into whenever they hit me, no matter how detailed or small or stupid. PWPs, crack, AUs, slow burns, fix-its, etc. They're usually little more than stream of consciousness rambling, and sometimes just a link, or song lyrics, a reddit thread, meme, or fanart - whatever inspired me in the moment and made me think, "I should revisit this later."
To give you an idea what the former looks like (though I'll be honest, this is tidier than most lol):
Psychologist/Client Modern AU
Premise: Obi-Wan realizes he’s becoming attracted to his beautiful young client and tries to refer him to another doctor. Little does he know, Anakin has been harboring a crush for years.
Anakin comes in one day for a session and Obi-Wan seems off somehow, nervous almost. It's unlike him. Immediately, Anakin is wary. Before he has a chance to say anything, Obi-Wan gets right to the point and tells him he's referring him to another doctor. Anakin demands to know why and he won't give him a straight answer, or at least not one Anakin believes. He's heartbroken, but the more Obi-Wan dodges his questions, the more frustrated he becomes. Obi-Wan opens the door and tells him he should probably go.
As Anakin is passing by, he gets a little too close, and that's when he notices it. A hitch in Obi-Wan's breath, dilated pupils. And he knows. There's no way he's letting it go now. So he tests his theory. Boxes Obi-Wan in. Obi-Wan is becoming increasingly agitated, holy shit he's actually stammering - that never happens - not to him, the man who's always so smooth and professional and careful with his words.
“If you're referring me,” Anakin says, leaning closer, “I guess I'm not your patient anymore then, am I?" 
Obi-Wan blinks, eyes falling briefly to Anakin’s lips. “No,” he breathes, “I suppose you aren't.”
Anakin grins. "Good.”
And then they kiss! Blah blah blah cue the hot desk sex.
Okay, the rest of this got pretty long so I'm dropping the WIPs under the cut.
First, there's Troubled Water. I have bits of multiple chapters written already but most of my focus is of course on chapter 4. Idk why but I've been struggling with it. 😅 It takes place on a different point in the timeline than originally intended (it was actually ch3 but what was supposed to be a flashback ended up turning into an entire scene of its own and thus the whole club disaster lol). It's, again, so long that it will probably end up split into two chapters but as of right now I'm kinda wingin' it.
And am I being entirely self-indulgent by using my own OCs (and some friends')? Yes.
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I'm a writer, I can do anything.
Also I just thought it'd be cool to introduce a new species or two lol. The GFFA is vast okay, there's always room for more. Anyway, here's an excerpt:
“Please, allow me to introduce myself. I am Da’riel of Clan Sarel. You have already met my Captain. The big guy behind you is my personal bodyguard. Don’t mind him, he only looks terrifying.” His grin takes on a mischievous edge as Bull huffs what might be a grunt or a laugh and he gestures toward the room he just emerged from. “And last but certainly not least—”
Another Dua’vian materializes in the doorway as though summoned, leaning her shoulder against the architrave. Her hair catches Anakin’s attention first; red as Queen’s Heart blossoms, it cascades in thick waves around shoulders draped in the black silk of a shirt several times too large to be hers, its hem halting mid-thigh. Her legs are bare beneath it.
Cheeks flaming, Anakin turns his gaze resolutely away.
“—this absolute vision is Liv Viventoly. If Preia is my right hand, Liv is my left.”
“What does that mean,” Anakin blurts, and everyone looks at him. Though Obi-Wan never rolls his eyes, the expression on his face is about as close as he gets to it. It’s a very particular brand of fatigue and mild annoyance entirely unique to his master, translated via a blank stare and slightly raised brows. He doesn’t even have to hear the “Honestly, Anakin,” aloud to know that’s exactly what he’s thinking.
“It means”—Liv straightens, smirking—“that I work in the shadows.” Anakin flinches back as she saunters past him and slides smoothly onto one of the tall stools at the well-stocked bar.
Like that answers anything. Why is everyone so cryptic all the time?
“What’s important is that while you’re here, know that you can trust them as I do,” Dua’primia Sarel says.
Obi-Wan nods, though Anakin senses apprehension through their bond. “We appreciate your hospitality, Dua’primia. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is—”
Anakin jolts forward. “Anakin Skywalker. We are at your service, my Lord.”
Sarel looks at his proffered hand with something like amusement and glides past Obi-Wan to clasp it with his. This close, he realizes the Dua’vian is an inch or two taller than himself—being somewhat tall for a human, it’s not an experience Anakin has often—and his eyes are a vibrant peridot green, accentuated by the black markings curving elegantly around the angles of his face that remind Anakin a bit of a Zabrak’s. A vicious scar bisects one eye from brow to cheek, long healed but still pink against his fair complexion, and Anakin spares a second to wonder if he got it during the war.
“Please,” he says, and is it just Anakin’s imagination, or did his voice lower in timbre? “Let us do away with such formalities. Call me Da’riel.” 
Anakin swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. “Oh—okay. Da’riel,” he repeats stiffly, hoping he isn’t completely butchering the pronunciation. By the way the man beams, he thinks he did alright. Da’riel releases his hand slowly, fingers grazing the sensitive skin of his inner wrist before Anakin withdraws it behind his poncho. He glances sidelong at Obi-Wan, but his master’s expression is as inscrutable as ever.
“Well then,” Da’riel declares with a brisk clap, making his way to the bar, “drinks?”
“Can we get down to business, please?” Preia says, rolling her eyes. 
“Such a spoilsport. Would it surprise you to know she isn’t always this uptight?” Chuckling, Da’riel uncaps a sapphire-blue crystal decanter and waves it beneath his nose. “Normally my dear Captain is the one pouring the liquor.”
“And I’ll drink you under the table like always once this threat is dealt with.”
“I shall hold you to that, my friend. And you, Jedi?”
“No,” Obi-Wan replies, a little too quick to be casual. “Thank you.” Anakin shoots him an inquisitive glance. 
“Ah.” Da’riel nods sagely. “So the rumors are true.”
“Da’riel—” Preia hisses.
“What?” Da’riel looks around at everyone, not contrite in the least. 
And his master was concerned that Anakin would be the one to say or do something culturally insensitive. He hides a quiet snicker behind his hand, pretending to rub his nose, and Obi-Wan gives him an unamused look before schooling his expression back to its artificial serenity. 
“Please excuse him,” Preia says, hip cocked, a finger rubbing against her temple. “He’s very—”
Liv butts in, “Reckless, blunt, uncouth?” 
Da’riel merely laughs, and Anakin can feel that it’s genuine. This is not at all the fearsome war General, leader of a revolution, and ruler of an entire planet that Anakin imagined. He seems close to these people, treats them more as equals and friends than subordinates or subjects, yet there’s still an aura about him that commands attention and respect as power or royalty would. 
Preia smirks. “Too honest for his own good.”
Whatever it is, Anakin doesn’t sense cruel intent coming from the Dua’primia, just honest curiosity. Despite the glare his master is drilling into the side of his head like he knows what Anakin is going to do, he can’t help asking, “What rumors?” 
“That you’re, er, monks,” Preia says, chuckling to mask embarrassment on behalf of her comrade and her own curiosity. 
“You know.” Liv sips at the drink Da’riel just poured her, not looking at them as she speaks, and Anakin leaks a pulse of unease into the Force. There’s something about her he simply can’t put his finger on. “No drinking, no fu—”
“Fun!” Preia hastily interjects, staring daggers at the other redhead. 
The corners of Anakin’s mouth twitch into a partial frown. They aren’t entirely wrong. He has his own… issues with the Order, with following rules that often either don’t make sense to him or directly conflict with his own ingrained beliefs. But it rankles for some reason, like he’s being judged, like they’re being judged. Mocked, even, though he doesn’t quite discern their meaning. Jedi are guardians of peace and justice within the galaxy. Maybe he doesn’t agree with the way the Order does things sometimes, but without them, without Anakin and Obi-Wan, the world would fall to disorder. To the dark side. People should be grateful—
“We are simply tired from our journey,” Obi-Wan interrupts his thoughts, sidling close enough that their shoulders graze, and Anakin exhales.
“My apologies, Jedi,” Da’riel says sincerely. “I am merely intrigued by your culture, as I’m sure you are of ours.” Obi-Wan bows his head in acceptance. “The hour is late. Preia?”
She hands Obi-Wan a datapad. “This contains an updated blueprint of the palace and map of the city, including the hidden exits and underground tunnels. I’ve marked the positions of my officers for each shift rotation as well as their schedules.”
Obi-Wan hums, stroking his beard as his eyes flit over the information on the screen. “And the evening of the festival?” 
“We’re tripling security, pulling from both the palace guard and local law enforcement.”
“How many of them know we’re here?” Anakin says.
There’s a knock at the door before she can answer, and Bull moves to open it, standing back to allow someone entry. It's a man Anakin recognizes. Tall and broad, with neatly-combed dark hair, deep-set brown eyes, and a kind yet serious face. His attire perfectly matches the regal demeanor flowing off him in waves, fine tailored robes of pewter-blue that swish around matching trousers as he walks. When his eyes land on Obi-Wan, a fond grin meets Obi-Wan’s public, Jedi-persona equivalent; a small, polite smile, though his eyes twinkle with equally affectionate mirth as Senator Bail Organa bends to his height to trade light kisses upon each cheek. 
Anakin knows from experience that it’s just a traditional Alderaanian greeting; it doesn’t mean anything. The Senator is a happily married man. And he’s pretty sure Obi-Wan hasn’t been involved with anyone in years, if ever. Whatever illicit affair he’d thought his master had with Vos was obviously just fueled by his own overactive imagination. He knows this because Obi-Wan never did meet the Kiffar before he shipped out for his next mission, and he hasn’t been alone with Vos since. Obi-Wan even stopped going to bars and clubs; stopped going out much at all, in fact, aside from diplomatic dinners and stuff they do on missions. Otherwise, he mostly stays with Anakin, and that’s exactly how Anakin likes it. 
None of that prevents the irritation boiling within his veins or the tormenting memory of a kiss that’s burrowed its way into his very soul, a kiss that should have never been, and the hollow, bitter pang that always follows in its wake.
Goosebumps prickling the flesh at his nape, he glances around and finds Da’riel leaning back lazily against the front of the bar on one elbow, sipping his drink and watching Anakin intently. Face flushing with heat, he plops into one of the plush chairs and out of the Dua’primia's view.
“Obi-Wan. As always, it is a pleasure to see you.”
“And you as well, Bail.”
“Now that everyone is here,” Preia says, “shall we get started?”
This is Da'riel btw:
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"But there are no elves in Star Wars," one might say. Well guess what: there are now. 😌
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Preia and Liv belong to @jacklyn-flynn & @charlatron respectively.
As for other WIPs; there's one I started before Troubled Water, though my focus was drawn to TW instead so it's been put on the backburner for now. The original idea was some kind of canon-divergent time-travel fix-it, but in the sense that Vaderkin's consciousness from the end of RoTJ returns to his body around the end of the Mortis arc in The Clone Wars. Can't say why that inspired me but it did lol, it felt like a pivotal moment (one of the shatterpoints I like to theorize about, change one thing and they're all altered via butterfly effect etc).
Like, what if he lived the future shown to him in that vision that the Father erased, and how would he react differently afterward, how would he talk to Obi-Wan and Ahsoka about what they went through on Mortis and the implications if he actually, finally understood and believed that he was indeed the Chosen One, how would they approach the Sith situation and the war from that point on... yeah I just have a lot of thoughts idk. I know that arc isn't a fan favorite but I personally loved the metaphor and the entire Prophetic Greek Tragedy vibe.
Excerpt:
“General Skywalker, come in.”
He feels… strange. Heavy yet impossibly lighter. Awareness presses down around him, suffocating, and a sharp pain lances through his skull as he draws the first shuddering breath in what feels simultaneously like mere minutes and several millennia. His mouth is dry, his throat sore, and his eyes burn as he slowly blinks into wakefulness. The crust of sleep clings to his long lashes, the salt-stained skin upon his cheeks pulling uncomfortably as he moves. He rubs them with a gloved hand and groans at the bright flashing lights of a console as they sharpen into focus. 
Wait—
He has a body. 
Moments ago he was formless and adrift, yet he is once again whole. And before that, he was… he was…
Kriff, he has hands. Hands he sees unfiltered, rather than through a tinted transparisteel visor protecting damaged retinas. And he’s breathing. Unassisted by a mechanical apparatus, by endless tubes and wires, no longer submerged under the ceaselessly distracting harsh rasp of a ventilator. Fingers flexing inches before his face, he blinks again, stunned. Not only does he have a body, but it’s his body. His limbs—well, with the exception of one. His gaze drifts slowly down to his long legs, toes curling experimentally in his boots. The sheer relief of it sends him reeling. 
Red light glints off his leather tabards and he looks up, expecting that any moment now, this will all prove another dream, a nightmare; a life free of that shell dangled temptingly before him only to be snatched away again. But the scene does not change. Dazed, he assesses his surroundings. A ship. He's on a ship? Familiar, Republic make. And there is a presence in the Force, a presence he has not felt in—
Hours. Years. An eternity.
Breath held, he turns. Only his head; as though any attempt to move this foreign yet thrillingly familiar youthful body will snap him out of this vision, send him back to that… that hell. And as he does, he sees him, a shining beacon of pure light, warm and bright and soothing. A man in beige robes, slumped in the co-pilot’s chair beside him, just beyond arm’s reach. Legs akimbo, elbows perched upon the armrests, hands dangling limply over his lap. His bearded chin is tucked to his chest which rises and falls in the slow, steady rhythm of unconsciousness. Auburn hair spills across his forehead, obscuring his eyes. But he would know this man anywhere.
Obi-Wan.
The desperate beat of his heart and rough, relieved exhale that escapes his lips seems thunderously loud in the otherwise silent cockpit. Fresh tears springing to his eyes, he attempts to stand—to go to him, to sweep Obi-Wan into his arms and feel his warmth, to surround himself with his scent and know for certain that he’s here, he's real, he’s alive—only to wobble and collapse back into the seat like a fawn testing new legs for the first time. 
How is this happening?
He feels himself, and not himself. As though he took a nap and awoke with another lifetime sliced into his brain, a vision he can't shake, an overwrite of his programming, and it's becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish between it and the reality he's presented with the more he struggles to process it—
A flicker of blue dances in his periphery, repeating a question, and it is only with great reluctance that he tears his eyes away from his former Master. The holo-projection of another man stands at attention in the center console, brow furrowed with worry. Fondness and guilt and confusion flood him with equal measure as he takes in his Captain’s, his friend’s, appearance. 
“General Skywalker, do you read me?”
Skywalker.
The voice of the last person to call him by that name, in that other life, echoes in his mind. It is the name of your true self, you have only forgotten. The son he tried to kill, to corrupt, to save. The son who saved him, and in the end, returned him to the light. Luke.
Clearing his parched throat, he responds, “I—we read you, Rex,” and marvels at the sound of his own voice, so crisp and clear and young, without the distortion of that burdensome helmet. “You—you’re a sight for sore eyes. Can you hear me?”
Fabric rustles behind him and he instinctively reaches for the lightsaber at his hip before the sleepy, curious brush of another Force signature meets his own. Gasping, he whips around in the flight chair.
“Ahsoka!”
She winces, rubbing her tired eyes. “Not so loud, Skyguy,” she says on the back end of a yawn, glancing around the cockpit. “What happened? We were—-mmphh!” Her surprised grunt is muffled against his shoulder as he all but falls out of his seat to the floor at her feet and drags her into his arms, then his lap, cradling her like a child. 
Face buried in her soft lekku, he squeezes her close to his chest, body wracked with silent sobs. All he’d wanted was to protect Ahsoka. To mentor her, as his master before him, and give her the tools she needed to protect herself and innocents across the galaxy. Brilliant, kind, stubborn and strong, and so, so wise beyond her time, she became one of the most talented Jedi he had ever met. Though they’d gotten off to a rocky start, she made him proud, made him feel honored to be her master. Watching her leave the Order tore his heart in two. Watching her leave him destroyed him. Already he’d been questioning the Council, questioning the Order as a whole and their damn inflexible code. But more than that, he questioned himself. He’d failed as her master, failed as a Jedi. 
The memories haunt him. For months he examined the shatterpoints of their lives together, in hindsight—every lesson taught, every battle fought, wondering where he went wrong, what he could have done differently, how he could have fixed things, helped her, kept her close—spiraling down, down into the depths of his own torment and self-loathing. Without Ahsoka, Obi-Wan had been his only remaining tether to the Jedi. To the light. A tether broken, in the end, by his selfishness. By jealousy and hatred and greed, by the fear of abandonment, loss, and… deep, shameful, unrequited feelings. 
But here she is, right here in the secure circle of his arms. His beloved young padawan, the girl he’s come to cherish like a friend, a sister, who he’d met lightsaber for lightsaber in that dark future but even then, corrupted as he was, could not bring himself to kill because he loved her so. Loves her still.
“Master?” Ahsoka murmurs, hands hanging limp at her sides for several seconds before hesitantly returning his embrace with equal strength. Too often preoccupied with and separated by the war, the opportunities to shown her such open affection were far and few between, usually coming after particularly difficult missions, brief brushes with death, and how kriffed up is that? Filled with regret, he promises himself here and now that will change. 
“Are you…” Trailing off, she reaches up to slowly pet his hair and he releases a quiet sigh, finally pulling back to look at her. Her eyes are wide and worried and so very, terrifically, blue. “Master, what’s wrong?”
Letting out a soft chuckle, he shakes his head. “Nothing, Snips.” The old nickname rolls off his tongue without even thinking and his heart clenches, this time with both pain and joy. “Nothing at all. Everything is perfect.”
There’s a crackle of static behind them, then, “Ah, General Kenobi. It’s good to see you, sir. Are you three alright? General Skywalker seems—”
He lifts his gaze to the co-pilot’s chair. Obi-Wan is awake and perched upright in front of the holo, staring silently at them with a frown so achingly familiar a tangled web of affection, longing, pain, betrayal swells within his chest. It hurts, it hurts so much to look at Obi-Wan like this, yet now that those eyes are open and trained so intently on him, he can’t tear his own away. And Obi-Wan’s just as beautiful as ever, just as heart-wrenchingly perfect and good. 
Too late, he remembers that their bond, while not as strong as it had once been, remains. Unlike most master and padawan pairs after the apprentice reaches knighthood, neither he nor Obi-Wan could bring themselves to sever it. They were at war, their connection was vital. It made them a better team. Until— 
His mental shields slam into place but not before Obi-Wan arches a single brow, lips parting as if to repeat Rex’s inquiry. 
“I’m fine,” he rushes to cut Obi-Wan off, “we’re all fine. Just, uh—where are you?” 
He can only beg the Force that his former master and current padawan did not feel too much, did not see the torment buried within him. By the way they appear to be communicating with one another like whispers behind closed doors, however, he’s sure they will have questions. Questions he doesn’t know how to answer. Letting go of Ahsoka, he clambers to his feet, limbs still trembling, and drops heavily back into the pilot’s chair.
“Standing by, sir. We were worried. You were,” Rex hesitates, “off the scopes there for a moment.”
Memories hit him in a rush. Chaotic, lacking order. He's in a dark room with his dead mother whispering poison in his ear. On a balcony overlooking a pristine lake, flowers scenting the air, one hand rising to touch soft skin. In a junkyard, fingers covered in mech oil, the ever-present grit of sand between his molars. At an opera listening to the viper beside him spit lies, lies, lies. The sky above shifts rapidly from day to night, and he's lost in a spinning whirlpool of stars and the obscene rush of power he feels as he brings gods to their knees. Then he's watching the silhouette of a robed man against the backdrop of sunset thinking look at me, look at me, please look at me, I need you—
Sifting through them is a struggle. Everything blurs together, and he can't control what comes or when, skull throbbing from the effort. His thoughts, his feelings, are an amalgamation of eras he can't quite reconcile; the slave boy, the padawan learner, the Jedi Knight, the General, the Sith Lord. It's too much, it's too much and he doesn't know who or what he is anymore and the panic is rising— 
A comforting hand settles upon his shoulder and he opens his eyes. Ahsoka.
“A moment?” Obi-Wan says, still staring at him. He shifts in his seat, uncomfortable under that all-too perceptive gaze. At length, his master turns to the holo. “We’ve been gone far longer than a moment.”
Rex’s eyes flit between them. “Sir, I don’t understand. You’ll need to explain.”
Ahsoka snorts. “You wouldn’t believe us if we told you.”
Still have a lot of mental fleshing out to do before it goes anywhere but there ya have it.
May the Force be with you, always!
As for the first part of your comment, really, thank you. It's not that I don't love my writing so much as the process can be difficult at times. 😅 I'm a perfectionist, and not by choice so much as my brain simply won't let things go until they feel right. Even after publishing something I have a very bad habit of going back in and editing it a dozen more times. It's very annoying! 😂
Sometimes that single-minded focus gets me stuck in a huge rut because I'm too zoned in on trivialities to navigate back to the big picture. Basically writer's block is the worst feeling ever and sometimes I get down about not being as productive as I should be. But I do love writing, and making people happy with my work gives me a lot of joy and motivation to keep at it. Well, I should probably get back to work on TW but I hope you enjoyed the excerpts! All your kind words made me smile and I'm gonna try to carry that positivity with me. 🥰
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thatgirlinskullz · 2 years
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Obi-Wan Kenobi ep4 ***SPOILERS***
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--- spoilers incoming
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-- you have been warned
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okay, so this week's episode is the least fanservice-y so far (imo) so there's less to fangirl about BUT there's still a fair bit soo here goes..
first off: we have been majorly bamboozled. they legit made us all believe we were gonna get some flashbacks while Kenobi heals, huh? and then all we get is the parallel between him and Anakin in Bacta tanks, healing, and having visions..
i mean, i still appreciate the parallel, and to me it seemed like Anakin was feeling something too, that maybe he was struggling with his actions too, but like... i did kinda very much want those General Kenobi + General Skywalker flashbacks.. or maybe a Satine flashback.. or maybe Qui-Gon reaching out to Kenobi and helping him recover. or SOMETHING.. but we got some bacta parallels. so yay i guess xD (i sound more bitter than i actually am, i really thought the parallels were fkin cool)
Baby Leia is still a badass, and i feel like she might be unwittingly using the force to keep Reva out but idk. maybe she's just that strong.
also Reva is still a badass, but still annoying, but she IS supposed to be annoying so it's cool. Moses is doing an amazing at making me not like Reva as a person, but i still think she's pretty cool as a character overall..
also poor Lola.. she's gotta be destroyed now, isn't she? 💔
rip Wade
also the new characters seem cool. hope we get more of them.
also also for a second there i was actually questioning Tala's loyalties but she seems to be on the right side so all good. XD
LOVED how they played with the lights again in the dark.. the red of the interrogations machine and the blue of the lightsaber. *chef's kiss
LOVED how Kenobi was getting back into being a Jedi and using the Force and his saber again. it was all coming back to him as he was going through those troopers. and them moves. ooohh. he still got it 💖💖💖
rip all the Jedi in the tomb.. i only recognized the old goat-like Jedi that helped Ahsoka that one time (if it's him.. it could also be just another one of his species, idk). i was scared Kenobi might see Quinlan or someone he loved dearly.. but daaamn seeing that youngling was a LOT. didn't think we'd see that..
also they diiidd namedrop Quizzy 💖 so he IS alive, they are NOT retconning, so yaaayy. cannot wait for his return (hopefully on ep5)
oh and the bit with Leia holding Kenobi's hand did make me tear up, thank you very much. 😅 such an adorable scene omg. they are so precious. 💖💖💖😭😭😭
all in all, pretty solid episode, LOVED seeing Fortress Inquisitorius. and learning more about what it actually is. and Kenobi getting back into the groove is just amazing.
can't wait for ep5 😍
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photogirl894 · 2 years
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Could you do another bad batch series that follows directly on season 1 and maybe even 2 when it comes out later this year and it like where in a way they meet anakin Skywalker twin sister who is a mandalorian jedi and is also the chosen one and the most strongest jedi and mandalorian within the galaxy that has a very large bounty on her head placed by the empire and her brother and she ends up going with the bad batch and happen to know the 501st clones from the clone wars and having to face
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Wow, this is quite a request, anon 😅
I'm gonna be perfectly straight with you: I already have a lot with my current Bad Batch series that I'm working on and this would be just too much on my plate. Plus, while this is an interesting idea, I don't think it's really my cup of tea. If it was maybe a oneshot request, I could maybe work something out, but even then, this has a lot to it that I don't know if I could even make it a oneshot. I'm flattered that you think I could write something like this, but I'm going to have to pass on this one.
Though, I would highly encourage you to try giving it a go yourself! 😊 The premise is still an interesting idea and it seems like you already have a pretty good vision of what you want, so I think you'd be able to write it, if you really wanted to! 😊 If you do, I'd like to see what you come up with!
Once again, I'm sorry, but I appreciate you reaching out nonetheless!
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