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sarkastically · 6 years

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(More A Softer World prompt writing. This is messy and winds around a lot because it’s basically stream of consciousness. Not really any warnings needed except for my usual ones, which is Baze and self-doubt. Small hints of sexual situations. And fluffy angst. Also my current goal for myself is finishing things, which is why I’m unearthing a bunch of smaller, older things and completing them. Let’s ride this wave as long as it lasts.)

23. We talk in the dark as we fall asleep, and we are objects in the night sky outside of time. (it is the exact opposite of alone.)

There are innumerable paths to becoming a Guardian of the Whills. At least that is what the masters say. There are more ways to serve the Whills, to prove your worth than there are stars in the sky, than there are kyber crystals in the caverns under their feet. All is as the Force wills it, after all, so the ultimate test must come from the Force itself.

This is the kind of talk that confuses Baze, leaves him feeling at a loss for what to do next because he has always thrived on instruction, on the sure knowledge of having a set purpose, a plan. The idea that, ultimately, the end goal is somewhat up in the air, privy to his own interpretations, not laid out in perfect detail is disconcerting. It makes his stomach clench into tight knots and keeps him up long into the night, looking at the darkness spread across the ceiling thick as jam on bread trying to figure out what his next steps should be, what the Force is trying to tell him. As he has gotten older, the Force, which was once clear and easy to hear, has gotten hazier, further away, as though it is whispering, as though he has forgotten how to listen.

Again and again, his mind goes back to Chirrut. Again and again, his mind wanders off course, following the will of his heart instead of the will of the Force. Chirrut, after all, cannot be what the Force is trying to point him towards. That way is not quite blasphemy, not in the way that it is to the Jedi, but it is certainly not supposed to be his end task. The Force would not direct him to find his Guardian role in the heart of another. It goes against everything he knows about it. Everything he thinks he knows. The Force sometimes moves in mysterious ways, but this still feels like his own wants bleeding through more than anything else.

Somehow, though, they have gotten tangled up together, the Force and Chirrut, bound as if by silken ropes, by shards of kyber, they shimmer in the same way in his mind’s eyes, in his soul. It perplexes him and makes him doubt himself, doubts the path that he is on and whether he is worthy of it. There are other roads to walk in life, he knows, and perhaps he would be better at one of those. There are so many roads, but Baze has never considered any of them other than being a Guardian of the Whills.

No, this is not quite true. He has considered other things but only insofar as they would still benefit the Whills in other ways, in smaller ways perhaps but even small ways are important. A gardener, a baker, a sculptor, an archivist. All of these have flitted into and out of his mind before over the years because he loves them all. Being a Guardian did not mean that he could not be all of those things as well. Guardians serve in whatever way they can, he knows. But all of those roles, on their own, would mean not being a Guardian, which seems somehow lesser in his mind, even though he knows that it shouldn’t. The masters have always said that no one’s place in the Force is greater than anyone else’s, no matter what the Jedi say about prophecy.

“They need something to hold onto,” one of the masters told him when he was young and confused over the texts of their cousins. “They need to split things into pieces to understand it because at the heart of themselves they are conflicted. They have not yet come to see that everything is a whole. There is not light and darkness, separate and distinct, there is just the Force. Everywhere. Since they see it this way, they needed to contrive a story in which someone could bring it together. It’s a metaphor for their own disjointedness. They need someone to bring it together for them because they cannot just accept that it is. Like we know.”

And Baze, young and wide-eyed because how could the Jedi be wrong about something when they had lightsabers and powers and Force ability? How could it be that they were wrong? “Why can’t we just tell them, Master.”

“We have tried, Initiate Malbus, and they cannot hear us. They do not heed the Whills. It is their way. We are together in the Force, the way that we are together in the Force with all life, but we are still separate. Do you understand?” They had touched his hair, short cropped like all the younglings, and Baze had just stood there for a moment, thinking.

“Like the branches on a tree?” he asked. “Starting from the same place but not going to the same place?”

The fingers patted his cheek, and the master smiled. “Very much like a tree, young Baze. Think of the Force as a tree and everything in the universe part of that tree, branches and leaves and roots. Everything connected and of the same stuff but not always the same thing. For each leaf is different, isn’t it?”

Baze, who spent so much of his time in the gardens with the plants, in the trees, tending all the living things because he liked them, he liked to help, and he liked how quiet they were. They did not yell and scream into the Force the way that other beings did. No, the plants were quiet. They giggled and sang and whispered. Sometimes he couldn’t even hear them properly, they were just a quiet sound lapping against the edges of his mind, endlessly comforting. When the trees dropped their leaves, he had studied them, ran his fingers over the tracery of their veins, compared to his own where he could make out the rivers of his blood that traveled under his skin. All the veins were different even if the shape of the leaves were the same. Everything in the universe was special. Everything in the universe was sacred. “Yes, Master,” he said with a smile, thinking of the leaves and flower petals and everything unfolding around him.

“Good boy,” the master said, grinning, using another one of their many arms to settle a hand on his shoulder. “Baze, why are you here?”

“To be a Guardian. To serve the Whills. To serve the Force,” he answered, voice strong and clear and wholly innocent, repeating the same words that he had given the day he had knocked on the temple door, alone, sent by his family because there were simply too many mouths, and of all the children Baze was the one marked, Baze was the one who heard, who saw, who spoke of lights in the sky and voices in his mind, the one who would flicker out of existence when the calling was too much. They had told him he was special, but that had meant less to Baze than the fact that by going to the temple, he could help his family. Even if it meant he probably would not see them again.

They had told him that as well when they bundled him up in as many layers of his clothing as they could wind round him, tucking bits and pieces anywhere there was a chance, putting what little food they could into his pockets, kissing his face and his hair and his hands. There had been a lot of crying, and he could not recall their faces, but he did remember the warmth of their tears on his skin, bright like sunlight, but full of salt. He said he loved them. He asked them not to cry. They said they would not see him again. The sands were calling. Baze never found out what that meant. No one would tell him at the temple when he arrived. No one ever has, though Chirrut’s face changes in a way that scares him when he asks so he stopped ages ago, thinks instead of the sands of Jedha, of everything that is there, of the caves and the statues. Surely there are other cities. Surely there are other places to live. In one of those, his family exists, whole and happy and safe. So it is fine if he does not see them because he remembers the feel of lips on his palms, tears on his fingertips.

When the master smiled, it was sad, the sort of face they gave him from time to time, a sort of grown-up expression that Baze had not learned how to read yet but that was a bluish-gray in the Force glimmers that would dance through his head. “No, young one. Why are you in the archives instead of playing? Why are you reading during the free period? Would you not rather join your classmates?”

Baze had frowned, his face moving before he meant it to, but the master said nothing, just tilted their head slightly to the side, and waited. The other kids didn’t like him much, and Baze could not understand why, had never asked. They were not cruel, but they were separate. When he got near, they would part in waves around him, and none of them ever spoke to him first or sought him out. He never felt at peace with them. Plus they were loud. In every definition of the word he knew. The archives were better, the kitchens were better, the long spiraling hallways filled with ancient artwork, the corridors where he could wander and wander until he was lost and then follow his steps back to the initiate dorms were better, and the garden was best. Though the garden was currently full of the other children who did not get him, which was why he was there. “I like the archives.” It was not a lie; it was just not the entire truth. “It’s quiet here. I like the quiet.”

The master folded their many hands together and looked at him for a moment, so long that Baze grew uncomfortable and shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he waited. “You don’t always have to listen so hard. I think it would be wise for you to remember that. However, if you like the archives, let me find a book for you.”

Instead of a book about the Whills or the Force or the history of Jedha, the master had located one full of poems and stories. Long, rambling things about trees and gods and children birthed from flowers and serpents who lived in the air. It had entranced Baze for hours, long past the point when he should have left the archives to attend his other classes, but the master must have covered for him because no one ever said anything to him, he never got in trouble for that long afternoon spent lying on his stomach reading as the words spun out like so many sparkling, glimmering roads, each one a truth in and of itself even when they did not coalesce. Baze took them all, tucked them into his head and his heart, never forgot them, would whisper them, delightedly, to Chirrut when he discovered that he was not afraid of him, did not scurry at the mere sight of him, was loud but in a different way, in a way that would soar through his body like a bird in flight instead of like the clamor of a bell in his brain.

He thinks about it, the ease of it, just being in the archives and reading the books there, letting the words take him away wherever they wanted to, as he stares at the ceiling, trying not to think about the paths and the roads to becoming a Guardian, the winding, circuitous routes of the Force. Sometimes trees grow wrong. Baze knows this because he has seen them, several in the temple garden. They grow right through something instead of around it, they fuse themselves with other saplings planted too close to them, forming a bond that can never be broken. Can be people be like trees in this? Can people also grow wrong?

Has he grown wrong? Is that why the voice of the Force, once so clear, has dulled. When it was once too loud such that he would get frightened and hide under the stairs even though it didn’t help, it didn’t help because the Force is everywhere and nowhere and inside everything, invisible but not so it didn’t matter where he went because there it would be, always, waiting. Only now he has to strain to hear it, thinks it pulls away from him, little by little, as though he has wronged it. Perhaps he has.

Baze does not quite love the Force like he used to, and he no longer fears it. But if he has grown wrong than how will he know that he is on the right path at all? If he has grown wrong, what if he ends up walking, alone, into the night, into the sands, into nothing, without a path, without a reason, never to come home?

And what is home? It is the Whills with its labyrinth corridors and crystal caverns and the endless amounts of knowledge? Or is it the bright unfurling in his chest when Chirrut’s fingers twine into his own? What if it is the latter and that means he has failed all the tests that the Force and the Whills have put before him?

In the dark, Baze covers his face with his hands as though he can stop his thoughts from meandering so far by physically holding them inside of his skull, and because there are tears on his face that he should wipe away even though the chances are slim that anyone will see. He is meant to be of sterner stuff, after all. He wants to be a Guardian, he wants to protect the temple and all the small, lovely things that are contained inside of it. The children and the flowers and the kyber and the lore. The bricks of the temple itself seem to be filled with more knowledge than he will ever be able to carry in his worried and ramshackle mind. He would die for it.

He would also die for Chirrut. He would do many more things for Chirrut. Baze cannot fathom anything he would not do for Chirrut, and that is another cold worry in the stack that he has been collecting, that gather on his chest like stones to sink him into chilling water, to steal his breath away.

“You carry indecision like a millstone round your neck,” one of the masters told him, once, when he was past childhood but not quite a man, his shoulders filling out, his height extending in leaps and bounds that left him clumsy, all his limbs betraying him. “You rely on others to choose for you, and that is a dangerous way to live, Initiate Malbus. You must be very careful who you rely on if you let someone else take your will.”

It’s not quite that, he thinks, even though he can scarcely put into words what it is instead. Perhaps it is simply that he does not trust himself. It is hard to see where he should be, where he should stand, who needs him. Baze always attempts to place himself where the need is greatest, where he can try and do the most good, but he gets confused, torn in many directions, like how his heart has wanted to be a baker, a painter, a gardener, a mender, a guardian. There are all these things that need doing, and he wants to do them all, stretch himself so wide that he can easily complete all of them, stretch so wide that he can cover the entire temple the way that the night sky covers the moon of Jedha when the sun goes away. Even though he knows this is not how it works, he can not stop thinking of night the way he saw it in that book from so long ago, a painting of a person in a black cloak studded with bright stars, arms spread wide to embrace the entire world. He likes that image. He would be that if he could.

Baze Malbus would be the night sky, dark and tranquil, swimming with stars, arms spread wide for the universe itself, holding everything because some things never get held at all and that is the biggest tragedy that he can imagine, even larger than this pressing weight of indecision on his chest.

By the time the door to his door opens, he has folded his hands on his chest again, but he is still crying, silently and sparsely, just rivulets of salt water down his cheek, which fingers almost as familiar as his own find and wipe away. “You’re so loud, I can hear you thinking in my room.” Chirrut’s voice is a not even a good facsimile of a whisper as though he has no concept of the fact that it is late and they are all supposed to be asleep, that night is for quiet and darkling thoughts that rustle in the corners like small creatures seeking sustenance.

Baze would die for him, and he wonders if he knows this fact even as Chirrut shoves at his arm until Baze has rolled onto his side, pressed his back against the wall in order to make enough room on the small bed for Chirrut to join him. Now the blackness that he stares into is located inside of Chirrut’s eyes, and it is so much more alive than anything else he has ever seen. “Did you come to quiet me?” He doesn’t realize how much it sounds like a leading question, a request for a kiss or more, until it is out of his mouth, and he can see the white of Chirrut’s smile gleaming in the black around them. The darkness is a reprieve because Chirrut will not be able to see the blush that rises on his face, trails down his neck, seems to fill him with a rushing warmth all the way to his toes, like sliding into the kyber pools.

“Not in. Not in that way,” Baze protests before Chirrut can say anything, and his voice stumbles out of him in fits and starts like he is wine drunk after a festival and struggling to rise.

“No?” Chirrut’s voice is part mocking and part disappointed and all distracting. If Baze did not love him so, it would be irritating and frustrating, but all it is now is as intoxicating as a warm palm pressed to the small of his back after a sparring match, a promise of further intimacy to follow. The hand that Chirrut places on his cheek to brush away the remaining tears is careful, cautious, comforting, and Baze leans into it as soundly as he would against a tree or a pillar, something solid that will not move under his weight, something he trusts.

“No,” Baze agrees, mollified, but suddenly not nearly as humiliated by the slip of the tongue because he wouldn’t mind it if things did go that way, would accept it willingly and completely. He just needed Chirrut to know that it wasn’t a come on, wasn’t some flirty, strange thing. Baze has never been good at those anyway. Charm is Chirrut’s hallmark, fashioned for him as surely as the starbird round his neck, the one that is always warmed from his skin when Baze presses his lips to it, to his chest, to every piece of flesh on him.

“Maybe later,” Chirrut’s voice never whispers as though he has never learned how to be quiet, but it softens to the point where it is like flower petals rubbed between fingers. “I came to find out what was wrong anyway. Not just kiss it better. Unless you want me to.”

The weight of all his worries remain like anchors tied to his feet. Baze is unsure whether he will ever be able to step out of them and walk freely, isn’t sure he would know what to do with himself if he ever managed it. He has braided his anxieties into his hair along with bits of lace and the locks Chirrut gave him when he chose to have his own head shorn. Baze’s family kept their secrets in their hair. He remembers this out of so little, and he has followed suit.

“Baze.” The word like a flower petal ready to tear if too much pressure is used.

Baze reaches out to touch him only to find that Chirrut catches his hand before it reaches him, presses kisses to each of his knuckles in turn and then his palm. Once, when they had first started dipping their toes into the water of their attraction to each other, Chirrut ran his lips and tongue across the line on Baze’s hand meant to represent life and then along the one supposed to be for love. He had nipped and sucked, Baze breathing heavily and aching and so enamored, wanting to do something but frozen, until Chirrut had looked up, eyelids heavy and guarded, lips full, and said, “Now I’m connected to both. Now I’m part of both. For you.” And Baze couldn’t make his tongue move to tell him that he didn’t think it worked that way, because he wanted it to be true, though he was able to make his tongue move enough to press it greedily into Chirrut’s mouth when they kissed.

“I will hear you,” Chirrut says, and his words are a winding path of their own. There are many paths in the Force, and most of them have been trodden by many feet in the past, generations of members of the Whills. Then there is Chirrut, blazing down his own path, making his own way.

And then there is Baze who does not know what to do and where to go and how best to serve. There is Baze who thinks of the future and only sees Guardian robes in a puddle at Chirrut’s feet, sees the light of kyber reflecting cool off his golden skin, sees his own hands splayed across that perfection, sees them hand in hand, sees one set of footsteps in the sand that he places his own feet into because he knows no other way than to follow where this man goes. If that is wrong, if that is him grown wrong, he is not sure he would want to be right.

Baze swallows. Baze speaks. “I do not know a path in the Force other than you.”

There is nothing sinister in Chirrut’s laugh, nothing ominous in his smile, which is the way it can look when facing an opponent. There is not even mirth but something much more pure, awestruck, nearly rapture. “I kissed myself there,” he says, still so soft, like sinking fingers into flour. “I kissed myself onto your lifeline. Now you cannot be rid of me.”

It is truth. This is truth. Maybe this is not how it works, but that does not mean it is not the truth even if it discomforts him somewhat. The truth and Baze are fast friends, he has always sought it like a plant following the course of the sun throughout the day. He has always embraced it and always will, especially when it is warm and solid and laughing against his skin.

Baze cannot be the night sky. He cannot spread his arms wide and embrace the whole of the universe. His arms will not spread wide enough to embrace even the whole of Jedha. But his arms are wide enough to fit Chirrut in the circle of them. They are strong enough to hold him even when he feigns attempts to break free that only roll them over until Chirrut is astride his lap and leaning down to pepper his face with kisses, hungry lips and tongue and heart. Chirrut has the hungriest heart that Baze has ever met, and he would be consumed entirely.

The night is dark, and the temple is quiet. There is no sound, no light. It is like hanging in the sky between the stars, but they are not alone when they are together. And Baze is fine having no path other than the one his tongue traces from the juncture of Chirrut’s hip further down.

#sara writes #spiritassassin #otp: i am one with the force #otp: i don't need luck #otp: i protected you #otp: if you were church i'd get on my knees #sara's drabbles

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sunwisher-blog · 5 years

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Jedi Mind Tricks – Omnicron

Jedi Mind Tricks – Omnicron

Call 1-855-637-4055 for our Psychic line as low as 66¢/min About Jedi Mind Tricks: Jedi Mind Tricks (JMT) is a hip hop duo with Vinnie Paz from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania and Jus Allah from Camden, New Jersey. The group was founded by two high school friends, rapper Vinnie Paz (Vincenzo Luvineri) and former producer/DJ Stoupe the Enemy of Mankind (Kevin Baldwin). Of the many songs they wrote, Omnicron has no information about it anywhere. “Before the Great Collapse” is a single by Hip Hop duo Jedi Mind Tricks, released in 2004 through Babygrande Records. The single was the lead-off for the group’s fourth album, Legacy of Blood. While “Before the Great Collapse” was the single’s official A-Side, the B-Side track “On the Eve of War” was Legacy of Blood’s lead single. Like their previous album’s lead single, “Animal Rap”, the single contains two mixes of the song, subtitled “On the Eve of War (Julio Cesar Chavez Mix)” and “On the Eve of War (Meldrick Taylor Mix)”, referencing the rivalry between the two boxers. “The Age of Sacred Terror” is a single by Hip Hop duo Jedi Mind Tricks, released in 2005 through Babygrande Records. The single was the second released from their fourth album, Legacy of Blood, following 2004’s “Before the Great Collapse”. The song’s title is taken from the book of the same name, written by Daniel Benjamin. No official music video was shot for the track, but a fan-made video circulated after the song’s release, and was featured on Babygrande’s website. The single’s B-Side features the track “Saviorself“, featuring Wu-Tang Clan affiliate Killah Priest. lyrics: I told them of the Hale Bop comet 7 years ago… It is running if you will notice on our sensors we have picked up a ship beneath it …of great dimensions… All we are trying to do, us humans, is that we shall not die so soon Over the earth I hover Spinning whirlwinds in Wheatfield’s While my force fields repel four winds for broken seals Numbered Sedative Bending my brethren, breaking bread with Yeshua In Bethlehem, The last tribal star soul the alien Seth Alam The devil bears the pentagram, a wormhole/ hologram My body slams man with the heavy grams Lay the beat down; Make big connections to the Son of Sam and Uncle Sam So SamIam keep ya fuckin eggs and ham! Performing alien brain scans and spiritual exams While the mother ship lands on holy land My mental expands with plans to span through the galaxy I land in farmers crops spelling out the name ‘Apathy’ Speaking my name is blasphemy, so call me your majesty Majestic phonetics begin to affect your reality Religiously, I mystically chant and recite on mic’s At astronomical Heights Guided by the northern lights Poltergeist, masquerade as Christ, entice like Heidi Fleiss Trying ta put the righteous on ice You’re a holographic device, and simply see through Robotic like R2D2, I’m original like Hebrews And 144,000 people meant Allah’s blessing can keep you Form gargoyles like Tin Foil they sit upon ya steeple! Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Biophysical Biosphere; Witchdoctor unlocked the cobra spitting venom I adhere! I stand here with the hearts of the Meek I bring pain, camel clutch, Iron sheik Order of the Golden Dawn I have warned; Of biochemical implants in heads of the unborn! Lion of the tribe of Judah; The root of David Five Tibetan rites are rejuvenation A Sacred Master Yehi, All die under the staff; Or get burned like Betty Shabaz and I will laugh Demons at dimensional doorways come through this But I will have you hanging from a tree like you was Judas Violent Buddhist The Higher Arc decaton Revelations of the Megatron I form Voltron; With elements of Tai Chi Doing battle with seven heads and ten horns is me! The hologram! Travel I through space portals My soul cannot be imprisoned or trapped by mere mortals Torture them! With the pain of scorpion stings Spitting lightning ‘Lord of the Rings’, I brings Diagrams, of hallways and pyramids of the pharaohs Tribe Green Mecca’s warrior holding arrows Contorting; poly-wharfing and aborting The souls of the MC’s who I’ve made ghosts to do my haunting… Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Scientifical madness, eliminating masses with mathematical tactics Strategic, electronical Weaponry, fucking up your anatomy! Insanity- inviting me Atomically bombing thee, fraudulent MC’s Escorting he; With battle strategy Confusion weaponry, cause fatalities Intergalactic tactics, shine like metallics With mathematics I leave ya whole clique splattered Pharaoh’s the savage (Ikon the verbal Hologram) The Verbal Core (Sun Pharaoh) Causing Comatose It’s Transporting dope shit, through sleep way; (Ikon the Verbal Hologram) …Hypnosis! Try to approach this, I stalk prey like Vultures And feast on the carcass of any ‘lyrical artists’ I’m sick with, this Scientifical madness Pharaoh the seventh sign causing world disaster Cerebral master , Iron Killer Guerrilla Verbal Flames I spit them through your chest , Like Tequila Constructing ya Art of War like Sun Tzu Death becomes you, As I run through MC’s like Battering rams, you overstand; Sun Pharaoh- and the motherfucking Hologram! Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Will space probes in the next century discover extra terrestrial analogue? Click here to return to positive music list Read the full article

#JediMindTricks #Omnicron #positivemusic

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inchoatc · 6 years

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someone: wow the last jedi was so good !! too bad finn and poe are so shitty me, rising from the depths of my abyss: um escusamí ?? admittedly, tlj was an interesting concept of a movie but it was very poorly executed. it was an interesting plot and moved the story along ( albeit very stiltedly ) but it did this by SACRIFICING two of the core players of the new gen team. poe “ i gave a stormtrooper a name because he didn’t have one and that’s unacceptable ” dameron, poe “the resistance will not be intimidated by you ” dameron, poe “ heart eyes any time general organa walks into the room ” dameron become a horrid show of toxic masculinity and had every. single. virtue. so vital to his characterization s t r i p p e d away just so that disney could write the “ girl power ” white feminism bullshit that it loves to capitalize on. let’s not get into how utterly wrong it is that poe dameron the same poe dameron who looked so starry eyed and adoringly/reverently said “well she certainly is that” when leia was called royalty because she’s his general but she’s also this amazing incredible warrior princess that has COMPLETELY commanded his respect the same poe dameron who touches her hand so tenderly like he’s the one who will break if jostled too harshly when she’s in her coma the same poe dameron who said he didn’t care about the glory of battle, just that he got everyone home safe enough to celebrate it was portrayed as a distrustful, power hungry, MACBETHIAN figure. poe dameron disobeying leia’s orders in the beginning, getting countless people killed just for the “ glory ” of taking down a dreadnought ?? utter. bullshit. get that outta my house we do not speak such blasphemy !! and just don’t even get me started on my son finn. like, this boi was the first defective stormtrooper ( at least as far as I know ), sequestered away a known figurehead in the resistance, traveled across the GALAXY to save a girl who showed him kindness even though he wanted nothing more than to run as far away from the first order the bane of his existance, the people who stole him from his family and told him he was nothing but a designation, DISPOSABLE, worthless because she was in trouble, took up a lightsaber against one of the most feared people in the universe at the time to try and protect those he cared for, and nearly DIED for the same reason. please, please, please tell me how tlj did him justice. tell me how that useless sideplot trip did anything besides try and force the rose/finn agenda ( which don’t get me wrong I love rose and all she represents for female asian representation in hollywood, but I do not and WILL NEVER like the forcing of a ship down our throats ). tell me that tlj was amazing when finn was taken down and detained for trying to leave for trying to take charge of the freedom he was finally, finally awarded to make a choice for himself and leave a war he never wanted to fight in, a resistance he never wanted to join. tfa did such an amazing job at showing that finn NEVER wanted to be a fighter, never wanted to be in a war that took everything from him, even after he was free. tfa showed how finn would have left, would have run, if not for those he felt he needed to protect. and tlj just .... finn wakes up alone and in CHAOS, waking up from an injury he knew he should have never survived because the first order retired them for less. he wakes up alone and trapped and his first instinct is to find poe, to find rey. NOT to jump right back into the fight because the fight is not what matters to him :: the people he cares for are. and when he finds out one of them is in trouble, he tries to go to her. because that’s what he does. and instead he’s sent on some backwards mission that doesn’t even DO anything for the story, forced away from the two people who matter most to him and instead going on some adventure that HURTS more than helps. the only thing I liked about tlj in terms of finn was how good it was at subtly showing finn’s mentality. his ptsd and his self-destructive tendencies. his willingness to throw himself at the ram even if it KILLS him because in his mind his life is disposable, has always been disposable something that is INGRAINED in him from decades of trooper training and first order brainwashing propaganda his fury when rose stops him because he was going to save everyone who matters to him and that’s worth the cost of his life. THIS was the only redeeming thing in tlj for me ( in terms of finn ), but even this beautiful little gem of mine that I will covet until my dying days wasn’t enough to make the movie anything more than palatable.

#long post for ts #tlj rant #star wars #spoilers #kinda #ugh I'm just so #angry about this still ok #I had a 47 minute long conversation about this at work today with someone else who was angry #it was a beautiful thing #but also infuriating #idk if this is even readable #I just started ranting and I think I went on tangents along the way

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ramialkarmi · 6 years

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How 'Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle' went from a punchline to one of Sony's biggest box-office hits ever (SNE)

The internet had a field day in 2015 when Sony officially announced it was making a sequel to its hit 1995 movie, "Jumanji."

But the joke's on the internet critics, the movie — powered by Dwayne Johnson and Kevin Hart — earned close to $1 billion globally at the box office.

Director Jake Kasdan explained to Business Insider how he pulled off one of the biggest surprise hit movies in recent memory.

Things did not start off well for the sequel to “Jumanji.”

20 years after the 1995 hit movie — which starred Robin Williams as a man who, after decades of being trapped inside a magical board game, is finally released to complete it with two kids — Sony announced in 2015 that it was going to dust off the property and reboot it.

The internet was not happy.

"It was like, 'You're ruining my childhood!'" Jake Kasdan, director of "Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle," recalled when Business Insider asked if he was aware of the backlash.

Following the Sony announcement, social media was flooded with negative reactions, the consensus being a “Jumanji” reboot would tarnish the original’s legacy and this was just the latest example of Hollywood being completely out of new ideas:

Not too happy that Sony are doing a "Jumanji" reboot, nothing will compare to the original with Robin Williams!

— TAÝLOR (@TaylorAmesMusic) August 5, 2015

NO YOU CANNOT REMAKE JUMANJI DON'T EVEN TOUCH THAT PRECIOUS GEM OF A MOVIE DON'T YOU DARE

— emma (@STRAWHATPlRATES) August 6, 2015

Noooooo @SonyPictures DO NOT "remake" #Jumanji!!! At least a prequel or a sequel dedicated to #RobinWilliams 😭

— bambamyong (@bambamyong) August 6, 2015

.@SonyPictures rebooting Jumanji? For the love of god, please spare us and don't embarrass yourself by ruining that classic.

— Todd Kaumans (@ToddKaumans) August 6, 2015

SERIOUSLY, HOLLYWOOD? REMAKING JUMANJI??? YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO REMAKE THE BAD ONES, NOT THE GOOD ONES. BLASPHEMY. #StopJumanjiRemake

— Sauts (@Sautterdays) August 6, 2015

A Jumanji reboot? pic.twitter.com/TBFYqYiZD6

— Nate (@nateofoz) August 6, 2015

And things didn’t get any better for the movie when, after screenwriter Chris McKenna ("Spider-Man: Homecoming") was tasked with coming up with a new take on the movie, three more screenwriters came on board to give it a crack. The release date was also changed three times, eventually settling in December, the weekend after “Star Wars: The Last Jedi.”

These are not good signs for a movie.

But in one of the most miraculous turnarounds for a movie in recent memory, “Jumanji: Welcome to the Jungle” didn’t just hold its own against “Last Jedi” in December (consistently finishing in second place behind “Jedi” the rest of the year), it knocked the latest "Star Wars" movie off the top spot and went on an incredible three-week streak of topping the weekend domestic box office in January.

The movie went on to earn over $939 million worldwide, and over $400 million in North America — the second-best domestic performance ever for a Sony movie (just below the $403.7 million made by 2002’s “Spider-Man”). All this came from just a $90 million budget.

And no one is more surprised by the movie’s global success than Kasdan.

"I loved what this could be"

Known for R-rated comedies like “Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story” and “Bad Teacher,” Kasdan came out of nowhere to prove he could helm a PG-13 action-comedy with major stars like Dwayne Johnson, Kevin Hart, Jack Black, Karen Gillan, and Nick Jonas.

Kasdan signed on to direct a few months after Sony made the official announcement, despite being fully aware of the hatred for the idea by those on the internet.

“On some level I think there’s a deserved skepticism about bringing back titles,” Kasdan told Business Insider while promoting the Blu-ray/DVD release of the movie (available Tuesday). “Whether it’s a sequel, reboot, relaunch, I think we’ve done so much of it that understandably the audience is kind of ‘why does everything have to be like this?’ But I loved what this could be.”

What the haters online didn’t know was that Kasdan and screenwriters McKenna, Erik Sommers, Scott Rosenberg, and Jeff Pinkner all contributed to what can only be described as a unicorn in the movie business — a reboot that feels new while also paying homage to the original.

The major adjustment done for the “Jumanji” sequel was shifting the board game element to feel more like the present gaming world.

At the end of the original “Jumanji,” Alan and Sarah toss the game into a river. The sequel starts years later in 1996 with the game being found on a beach. The boy who is given it ignores the lame board game, so the game magically morphs into a more attractive video game, sucking him into the game. Then later, more kids are sucked in and become avatars played by Johnson, Hart, Black, and Gillan.

That element opened incredible possibilities for the sequel’s story, as it not only could bring the Jumanji game itself to life, but could deliver all types of gaming aspects to the movie — from the characters having three game "lives" apiece, to the jokes about their avatar’s strengths and weaknesses.

Kasdan said this was all pulled off not by one single screenwriter who finally figured out how to crack the story, but by collectively using all of them, like a TV writers’ room.

"It wasn't like someone was dismissed and never heard from again"

Traditionally, on a movie, when a screenwriter has handed in his or her draft and been told that another scribe has been hired, that usually means the director, producers, or studio executives (or all the above) didn’t like the previous screenwriter’s work. But that wasn’t the case on “Welcome to the Jungle.”

“What made this project unusual was I continued to work with a lot of the writers,” Kasdan said. “It wasn’t like someone was dismissed and never heard from again. Chris McKenna came up with the idea and wrote it with Erik Sommers, and then Scott Rosenberg and Jeff Pinkner came on, and I did some work on it as well. I just liked their work so by the end it was this unique experience where they worked with me or each other. Everyone kept a foot in.”

Though Kasdan thought they had made a worthy movie, he still had no idea how it would play going into test screenings. So before the screenings, he decided to play the movie for his kids.

“My kids are like seven and five, which is sort of younger than we ever thought about our audience, but they loved it,” he said. “That made me think that the movie had a larger possible audience than I had fully realized while we made the movie. They connected so strongly to the fantasy of it, it got me excited.”

And the rest is history. The movie made just under $1 billion globally at the box office and solidified the star status of The Rock and Kevin Hart. And Kasdan is still trying to take it all in.

“I’ve been doing this long enough to realize how extraordinary this is,” he said. “It’s kind of a dream.”

But now it’s back to the drawing board for a sequel. Kasdan, Rosenberg, and Pinkner are all coming back as well as the lead cast. But can a sequel that was praised for having its own identity from the original pull off a successful encore? Can the video game storyline be used again? Is it right to bring back the same cast?

“We’re just starting to figure that out,” Kasdan said. “The honest answer is you could do all different kinds of things and we’re trying to figure out what feels like the most organic and fun way to continue this.”

More on "Jumanji":

How the new "Jumanji" sequel pays homage to Robin Williams' character

The unique reason the director of box-office hit "Jumanji" says he doesn't want to direct a "Star Wars" movie

The amount of money The Rock gets paid for a single movie is unheard of in today's movie business

SEE ALSO: 17 TV shows that will probably get canceled soon

Join the conversation about this story »

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theredsaber · 7 years

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My (Initial) Thoughts on Rogue One

There probably hasn’t been enough time to process and accurately assess the movie, truthfully. Unlike common conceptions, movies are not instantly considered masterpieces or [what’s the opposite of masterpieces?]. Upon their respective releases, movies like Psycho, 2001, Blade Runner, The Shining, and Fantasia were initially panned by critics, and/or had poor Box Office returns, later to become known as some of what are considered the greatest movies of all time.

Case in point: When Empire Strikes Back came out, it was considered by many to be “more of the same”. People didn’t walk out of Return of the Jedi saying “Empire was better.” In fact, it wasn’t generally considered to be the “best” of the Star Wars movies until much later.

In the 1994 movie Clerks, more than ten years after Return of the Jedi, there is a scene where the two main characters are discussing which is the better Star Wars movie, Return of the Jedi or Empire Strikes Back (Of course, the original was seen as the best, so there’s no need to argue about that).

Randal Graves: Which did you like better? "Jedi" or "The Empire Strikes Back"?

Dante Hicks: "Empire".

Randal Graves: Blasphemy.

In 1994, ten years after Jedi, and 14 after ESB, popular consensus was that Empire was the “worst” of the Star Wars movies. So, a month after a movie has been released, it’s impossible to say, with absolute certainty, “Well, Rogue One goes such and place in the rankings.”

However, since this is the internet, and everyone has to give their opinions on something immediately, without much time for thought or consideration, and because everyone and their dog has to give a review of the new Star Wars movie (I think it’s a law or something), I’m going to give my initial thoughts on Rogue One. I know that my opinion on the movie will change, but, for now, here is how I feel.

First, the short spoiler-free version: I loved it. I had the biggest smile on my face the entire time. I thought, going in, that there was no way I could like it better than TFA, but I think I did, sort of. I think it’s a better movie. I liked the risks it took, as far as Star Wars goes, (and as ensemble movies go in general, but I’ll get into that in the ‘spoiler’ part below), I liked the tone, I like the tension, I loved all the characters, the cgi was gorgeous, I loved all the sweeping landscapes, I loved all the locations, it felt big but at the same time intimate, the music was perfect. So, there was pretty much nothing I didn’t like, except for some tiny nitpicks and such.

On leaving, and reflection later, and seeing again, I think Rogue One is the better movie, but I like TFA a bit more, and I think that mostly comes from it being part of the episodic, saga films, and having had a lot more emotional investment in returning characters. Which brings me to my first point.

Spoilers!

The characters. Many people have said that the characters weren’t fleshed out enough and didn’t have character arcs. For a 2-hour movie, I thought it did an excellent job at defining the (many) main characters. I want to know more about them, but that means the movie did its job in getting me interested in them. If they would have spent more time on any character, it would have taken away time from the rest.

As for arcs, nearly every character had an arc.

Jyn goes from “it’s not a problem if you don’t look up,” to “yeah, let's take on the Empire with like 12 people.”

Cassian goes from someone that is something of an assassin for the Rebels to deciding not to follow orders to kill someone that is seen as an enemy because he trusts this person he just met.

Side note: The scene on the cliff is so good, where he’s deciding whether to take the shot, it’s very introspective, and I think a lot of people overlook how powerful it is, complaining his reasoning for not taking the shot was not clear. But it was completely clear. He saw through rifle scope that Galen was in conflict with Krennic, and he realized that Jyn was telling the truth, then he made the decision to disobey orders because he knew in his heart it was the wrong thing to do. That sometimes those who give the orders are wrong. There is not an ‘explanation’ done in a tired, expository “the audience are idiots” way, of why he didn’t take the shot, but that leaves it to the audience to project a reason. And I love that. It lets the audience figure stuff out.

Bodhi has two arcs, the first happens before the movie starts, he decides to defect from the Empire. He thinks he’s just going to give the info to Saw, then leave, free and clear, having done his “good deed”, but he gets pulled into the fight, and ultimately decides that his fate is bigger than himself.

K-2SO goes from only tolerating Jyn, and only because Cassian “said so”, to actually having some admiration for her.

Baze had been a protector of Jedi Temple, but has since lost his faith. In the end, he regains it again.

Chirrut is the only one that doesn’t really have an arc, but he’s the impetus for Baze, and probably Bodhi and Jyn as well, to change.

The characters were characterized just fine. We don’t know all their backstories. Which is fine. We don’t know how the back stories of Han and Chewy (until next year), and we are all fine with that. We didn’t know the backstory of Luke and Leia (until the prequels), and we were all fine with that. I don’t know why this is a nitpick by some people. Not knowing is more evocative than knowing, it lets our imaginations take over.

I loved the world building (galaxy building?) we get to go to all kinds of locations, and I loved the shots of all the landscapes. It was just gorgeous. I loved when they were in these locations. Honestly, the scenes where they are walking through Jedha city have more character of place than any other Star Wars movies. It felt so alive and real. In this respect, I think Rogue One captured “place’ better than any other SW movie.

In TFA, We get a bit on Jakku and a bit on Takodana of regular inhabitants of the galaxy doing everyday things. And even though we got to see a bit of bustling Coruscant in the prequels, it didn’t feel as authentic, as “lived in”, as it did in RO.

I absolutely love the director’s style, it makes the characters intimate, but the world vast, so it feels personal and huge at the same time. I recently found out that they used an old style camera from the 70’s era to get a similar look to the originals. I loved the look, and now I know why. It didn’t have that perfect crispness of modern movies, and I think it fit the style of directing and the theme and setting for the movie just right. They wanted it to be new yet familiar. And they accomplished this in so many ways.

I liked the Vader scenes, but maybe not as much as some people. They almost felt out of place. I loved Vader’s castle on the lava planet. I’ve wanted to see his castle for years. I hope it shows up in ep 8, (maybe they were setting it up so they wouldn't have to explain it in 8). Darth Vader is my all-time favorite villain. But the problem I have with the portrayal here is that they spent four movies and three animated series trying to humanize him only to make him purely a murder machine in this. It seems to be a step backward. But, maybe it’s to put “Evil Vader” in the forefront of people’s minds for ep 8?

I loved getting a big screen expansion of the Star Wars universe. I loved seeing the adventures of the people that aren’t Jedi. It makes the ‘world’ of Star Wars bigger. In terms of ‘rating’, I would put Rogue One right next to Empire because there are things I think that it did better than Empire (not having a romantic sub-plot, for one). Of course, nothing in film history can compare to “I am your father,” so Empire still gets the top spot.

Now, even though I rate RO higher that TFA, I could watch TFA more times than RO. Upon leaving TFA, I could have immediately turned around and walked back into the theater and watched it again. Upon leaving Rogue One, I wanted to have a nice sit-down and a drink.

#rogue one #star wars

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obiwanobi · 3 years

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I'm just so very enamored with the idea of Dooku als Obi-Wans Master at the moment. There are so many possibilities, I'm going crazy. I love your writing style and your ideas, so I would be so very happy to know your thoughts about this.

At first, I was going to say “oh, is this a nice AU where taking Obi-Wan as his padawan makes Dooku stay in the Order and the whole lineage is happier?” but then I thought, ‘wait, no, I’m only here to make a dramatic tragedy out of everything’ and I got really into it and wrote 2k about it 🤷‍♀️

So let’s say that Qui-Gon still takes Obi-Wan as his padawan first, and that’s how he meets his grandmaster, Dooku, who’s still a Jedi at this point in time.

Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan aren’t a good match at first, and it’s the same, even a bit worse than that, in this AU: Obi-Wan might be grateful to have been chosen and be eager to learn, but their rocky start as a master and padawan duo and their very different approach to, well, basically everything, make things a bit awkward.

But Dooku? Obi-Wan adores Dooku.

Dooku is the antithesis of Qui-Gon; he is a fascinating orator, has a practical mind, favours a pragmatic approach to problems, and is also one of the best duellists in the Temple. And he’s almost certain that Dooku likes him too. His grandmaster might be intimidating at first (he’s even taller than master Jinn for Force’s sake,) but he also raised Qui-Gon, so the man has seen it all and can’t be surprised by anything anymore. When he comes to visit Qui-Gon, Dooku never forgets to ask Obi-Wan how his training is going, what form he likes the best (Obi-Wan doesn’t miss the opportunity to say that he finds Makashi particularly elegant and almost gets a smile in return) and one day, he even ends up helping him write a geopolitical paper about a planet Dooku has spent almost a year on. It warms Obi-Wan to feel a connection to their lineage when he doesn’t really understand his own master, and watching Dooku and Qui-Gon, two very different personalities, getting along so well, also gives him hope that he will one day have the same type of relationship with his master.

But then, Melida/Daan happens.

Obi-Wan decides to stay, and Qui-Gon leaves the planet with one less padawan. It takes a bit of time before Dooku manages to get Qui-Gon to talk about what happened and where is his favourite grandpadawan, but when he realises that Qui-Gon left Obi-Wan in a warzone, Dooku is outraged, and is on Melida/Daan three days later to formally ask Obi-Wan to reconsider leaving the Order. It takes a bit of time before Obi-Wan truly starts thinking about it, because “Master Jinn will never take me back. I’m very sorry, Master Dooku, but he was the only one who was willing to take me as his padawan. No one else will, especially now.” and Dooku scoffs, because he wouldn’t travel to the outer rim for anyone, and of course he’s planning to personally train him. He saw the potential in him, and would hate to see it go to waste. All of this if Obi-Wan can assure him that he won’t rebel at every opportunity, of course, because he won’t accept the betrayal of his trust.

They both leave the planet together, as Master and Padawan.

The next few months are... strenuous. Adapting to Dooku’s teaching methods is harder than Obi-Wan expected. His new master asks for discipline, practicality and complete control of oneself at all time, and doesn’t accept any nonsenses. It’s not something Obi-Wan really knows how to do after months with Qui-Gon “don’t think, just do” Jinn. There is also a new distance between Dooku and Qui-Gon that Obi-Wan knows is his fault, but can’t do much about it; he still hasn’t said more than two words to Qui-Gon since Melida/Daan (apologies that his master- former master accepted with a cordial bow and that was it) and is in no hurry to change that.

Nevertheless, Obi-Wan is happy. Dooku might be a bit snobbish, makes imperious demands and even disagrees with the Council just like his former padawan, but he also explains to Obi-Wan why his decisions and insistence on certain parts of his training are necessary, doesn’t shy away from philosophical questions about the Force or the Order (even if his opinion is sometimes bordering on blasphemy,) and is, after all, one of the most skilled Master in the Temple. He might be a severe figure of authority to everyone else, but his hidden smile at a witty remark from his padawan, or the use of a diplomatic loophole to get his way without having to ignite his lightsaber, always gets him a gentle hand on his shoulder and an almost-satisfied smile. It’s more than enough for him.

And then, Qui-Gon brings Anakin Skywalker to the Temple.

Obi-Wan tries not to think too much about the rumours that say that he went all the way to the outer rim to get himself a new padawan. A padawan he chose this time. A padawan who’s the Chosen One.

“Ridiculous,” Master Dooku scorns, his expression so dismissive that the few gossipy padawans (and knights!) around scatter in a second. “I saw the boy, and if this raggedy child is the Chosen One who’s supposed to save us all, we should all start building our own funeral pyre to save us some time.”

“Master, really,” Obi-Wan sighs, half-reprimand, half-amusement. He’s still glad his master shares his distaste with the idea of taking a child too old and too attached.

And then, Qui-Gon Jinn almost dies on Naboo.

The other Jedi that went with him doesn’t have the same luck. Dooku doesn’t huff and roll his eyes this time. He does spend a lot of time in the Halls of Healing at his former padawan’s bed. Apparently, Qui-Gon has been badly hurt, and if he should walk again soon, probably with a walking stick, he will never be able to maintain enough stamina to fight with a lightsaber again. It doesn’t stop him from wanting to train the boy, and even the Council and Dooku, for once on the same side, aren’t enough to dissuade him.

And then, everything goes too fast.

Obi-Wan is talking about possible hidden Sith in the galaxy at the breakfast table, and suddenly Dooku says “I’m leaving the Order”, and then he’s knighted by a master who tells him he’s glad his last accomplishment as a Jedi is something he’s proud of, and then his master leaves without a real explanation, and then they make a bust of him in the library like he’s dead, and Obi-Wan asks himself if he’s going to feel abandoned all his life.

And then, Anakin Skywalker bumps into him.

“You’re Obi-Wan!” he says way too loudly, looking up at him in wonder.

It’s Knight Kenobi to you, a voice that sounds suspiciously like his master echoes in his mind. But no matter how much Obi-Wan admires his master, he could never be as rigid as him.

“Master Qui-Gon said you were his padawan once,” Anakin says, excited, and Obi-Wan has never wanted to run from a conversation that badly before. “And that you were... the padawan of my... grandmaster? I think? So that means we’re sort of like cousins, right?”

“Not really, no. Jedi don’t think about the Order as a traditional family. I don’t mean that we’re not one, young one,” he adds when Anakin’s expression turns to dejection, “we just have a different approach to kinship. In a way, we’re all brothers and sisters.”

And that, of course, is the exact thing he shouldn't have said.

“So you’re my brother then? Wizard! I’ve never had a brother before! Does that mean you will spar with me? I want to learn EVERYTHING about lightsabers, for example, do they have unlimited energy? Can it really go through everything? Because I heard beskar—”

Obi-Wan isn’t proud to say that he feels the urgent need to get away from him and never come in contact with that child ever again.

But after their first encounter, Anakin doesn’t leave him any choice. Every time Obi-Wan gets some time off, the padawan is here, scarily good at annoying him until Obi-Wan gives up pretending to ignore him.

He probably should be sterner with him. After all, he doesn’t own the child anything. But Anakin is always so happy to see him, impressed when Obi-Wan demonstrates the most acrobatic of Ataru’s movements, and eager to learn from him. Sometimes, he imagines Master Dooku’s face confronted with Anakin, and can’t help but laugh out loud. It helps to forget the void Dooku left in his life for a time.

(There aren’t a lot of holos sent to him from Serenno these days. Dooku must be busy.)

“My master can’t fight,” Anakin says petulantly one day, plopping down on Obi-Wan’s couch like the sulky teenager he is, “He’s restricted to the Temple or boring political missions, and so am I because of him. All he does is tell me to meditate and make me ‘reflect on my feelings’, or whatever that means. How good can a master be if he can’t teach me to protect myself and others?”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan warns, kicking the padawan’s feet away from the caf table, “please tell me you didn’t say these exact insensitive words to your master right before slamming the door and coming here.”

Of course he did, Obi-Wan thinks when Anakin starts a rant about being held back and how stupid meditation is. That night, Obi-Wan forces him to sincerely apologise to his master after a brief fight ("stop nagging at me, Obi-Wan! You’re not my master!” “Well, apparently, you don’t even respect your own master, so I’m very glad I’m not.”) and is just a bit stunned when he finds Qui-Gon Jinn on his doorstep a few days letter, asking him if he would agree to take Padawan Skywalker on his next off-world mission.

Obi-Wan really, really wants to say no. He only taught Anakin a few Ataru moves that the lightsaber’s instructor normally doesn’t introduce until a few years later because Anakin wouldn’t accept a no from him, he never signed up to co-parent a defiant padawan! Especially Qui-Gon’s padawan. The entire conversation between them is already awkward enough.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No?” Qui-Gon replies, sipping his tea like they’re discussing the weather. “You’ve done a good job at teaching him some rationality and a few duelling tricks until now. I haven’t been able to wield a lightsaber for a while now, but it’s hard to miss the handprint of my own master all over Anakin’s sudden blend of Ataru and Makashi in his movements.” Obi-Wan is pretty sure his ears and his face are burning by now. “Don’t you think he could benefit from some real experience? Maybe start to put things in perspective? Show him why the diplomatic skills and temperance we preach are so important even for the violent or difficult conflicts we’re asked to solve?”

And really, what is he supposed to say to that?

Qui-Gon leaves his quarters before he manages to gather the courage to ask why he chose him of all knights for this task. It really doesn’t make any sense to Obi-Wan.

The very next day, Anakin shows up at the hangar bay ready to see the stars, bag on his shoulder and enough excitement to make the whole ship vibrate under his feet.

“If you cause problems on purpose, I’ll send you back to your master faster than you can say pod-racing.”

“I promise I won’t, Knight Kenobi,” Anakin replies, all angelic smile and respectful padawan face. It’s the first time Anakin has called him by his title, and somehow it sounds a bit wrong.

Anakin does end up causing problems on purpose. It’s ridiculous but also kind of genius, so Obi-Wan only shakes his head and says “you’re really going to be the death of me.”

And for some years, it works. Qui-Gon stays Anakin’s master, but he does send him to learn from other masters and knights. More and more, though, Anakin asks for Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon rarely refuses.

“You two are the last people I thought would get along,” Mace Windu tells them a few successful missions later, after witnessing them bantering back and forth from their respective beds in the Halls of Healing. “Nonetheless, I’m glad you do. It’s good to see close lineages strengthening their bond to each other.”

Anakin blinks so many time at the compliment that Obi-Wan doesn’t hesitate a second before throwing his pillow at his face the second Windu leaves the room.

It’s a shame that Obi-Wan never manages to ask Qui-Gon about why he trusted him with his padawan.

Because Qui-Gon dies on Geonosis.

He shouldn’t have been there, Obi-Wan and Anakin keep saying. But they both know that you can’t stop Qui-Gon Jinn to do what he wants. He shouldn’t have gone to Kamino by himself, he shouldn’t have followed the bounty hunter to Geonosis, He shouldn’t have been in this arena, he shouldn’t have been killed before the help has come. He shouldn’t have died right in front of his former master— because of his former master.

Anakin’s master died that day, but when Obi-Wan saw Master Dooku ordering the attack on the Jedi, he felt like he was losing two masters at the same time.

Now there is a war coming, and the Council is talking about Master Dooku being a Sith, and he should stop saying Master Dooku, he knows, and people are asking how good can a Jedi be when raised by a traitor, and Yoda is talking to him about knighting Anakin and what he thinks about it like he’s his master now, and Anakin refuses to talk to him, and that probably has to do with the fact that he lost an arm and a father-figure to Obi-Wan’s master, and Obi-Wan would like to sleep for an entire year now, thank you very much.

#dooku and anakin: hate at first sight #can I make obi-wan's life more depressing? the answer is yes #obi wan kenobi #dooku #qui gon jinn #anakin skywalker #clem's aus #asks #anon #dooku and kenobi au

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