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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Ok, this is so fun! Congrats again!

I'll pick...Hunter (shocked, I'm sure.)

How about: "I don't think I've ever seen you smile" and "Oh, don't be cute"/"Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

Thanks!!

Carol (@clonethirstingisreal)

Thank you @clonethirstingisreal - I hope you love this Carol, it actually brought a smile to my face as I was writing it.

Enjoy, love oo.

One Meal

Warnings: knife flipping, allusions to loss, slight angst, fluff. I think that's it, if I miss any please let me know.

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Hunter flicked his knife back and forth in between his fingers, as he contemplated the next mission. Things were … different, since you joined. Not good or bad … just different. It been about six months, and yes, the Marauder was cleaner and didn’t have that lingering smell anymore, and yes, the meals had gotten better too, because you refused to just eat the ration bars the GAR provided. And … okay, it was nice to see your smiling face in the morning, compared to the miserable faces of his brothers.

Yet, he still felt awkward around you. He wanted to laugh with you, like you could so easily with Wrecker, to have deep discussion, like you could with Tech, even philosophical discussions like you did with Echo. Hell, he’d be happy if he could just do target practice with you, like you did with Crosshair, but … every time he opened his mouth, he was curt, short tempered, and on edge.

It wasn’t even your fault, it was just him.

He stood from his seat, heading down the ramp and taking in a breath of fresh air. You were cooking dinner, doing your best to teach Wrecker that just because salt tasted good, didn’t mean he had to put in a whole table spoon full.

It made him laugh a little as you tried to explain in your most patient voice possible, that you’d fix the dinner and Wrecker could go help Tech or Crosshair with something else. It was your polite way of saying ‘go away.’

Hunter tried but he couldn’t stop the smile on his lips, as he walked over to you.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile" you pointed out as he walked up to you. “What’s got you so happy?”

“Oh, I just saw how you were very tactful with Wrecker. It was funny.”

You shrugged trying to fight back your own laughter as you tried to fix the stew, by adding more water, “He tried. I’m grateful he’s willing to learn.”

“Need help? I’m not completely inept when it comes to cooking.”

You looked a little surprised when he asked, not that his offering to help was a real shock, it was the fact you realized this was the first time you two had a proper conversation. “Um … yeah, if you don’t mind using your handy dandy knife there, that you like flipping around so much, to cut up some of these veggies so I can add them, that’d be great.”

Hunter chuckled at your description, as he nodded, taking a seat and getting to work, “Where did you learn to cook?” He asked, hoping to get to know you a little better.

“My mom and grandmother. They were adamant that I learn how to feed an army if I ever needed to …” you chuckled, “I had a big family, back home. Usually there would be around twenty of us for dinner.”

“Twenty? Did you have a lot of siblings?”

“No. It was just me. But I had uncles, aunts, cousins, friends, neighbours, anyone and everyone who needed a meal could always come to our place for dinner. We never turned away anyone in need of a good meal.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It was …” a sadness passed your face, as you thought back to what had once been your home, until the Separatist droid army showed up, and destroyed everything you had held so dear.

Hunter saw your smile slip, it pained him to see that you had been through so much, although he hadn’t heard about it directly from you, he did overhear what had happened when you were talking with Tech. “Well we appreciate all your efforts, especially when you’re trying to teach us neanderthals how to cook.”

You giggled a little, pushing away the sad thoughts that had encapsulated your mind for a split second, “You’re not neanderthals.”

“We’re not exactly proper either. Couldn’t say, we’re exactly suited for a posh dinner.”

You shook your head as you laughed, “You don’t need to be suited for a posh dinner, you just need to show up to eat.” You smiled as you turned to look at him, smirking as you saw how perfectly he cut each vegetable.

You walked over and grabbed the tray of veggies, and dropped them into the stew, “Thanks for your help.”

“Of course. Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure”

“Why do you take care of us? I mean granted the Marauder smells a lot better, and the meals you cook are much better than the GAR rations, but … why do you do it?”

You stirred the stew as you contemplated the question, “I guess … because you feel like family to me.” You turned to look at him, truthfully, he was the only one that you didn’t think of as family, you wanted something more with him, something special, but seeing as this was the first time you two actually talked, it might be a bit far-fetched to imagine that could possibly happen. “And, I love seeing how my food makes you guys happy. Wrecker, has the biggest smile on his face, whenever he eats when I cook. Tech has this adorable blush, although he’ll never admit how much he enjoys my cooking. And Crosshair … well he always comes back for seconds; and frankly, between you and me, he needs to eat more. He’s too skinny. I could break off his collarbone if I needed.”

“I enjoy it too,” Hunter clarified as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “I might not say it, but I always look forward to your cooking.” He blushed and turned his head away, not wanting you to see how much of an effect you had on him, and not just because of your cooking.

You laughed at his reaction, "Oh, don't be cute” you teased, “I might have to walk over there and pinch your cheeks.”

Hunter started to laugh, when he realized what you said, “Wait, did you just say that I'm cute?"

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reneeofthestars · 7 months

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Reunion

Excited to share the short story I wrote for "Star-Crossed: An Anidala Zine" @anidalazine ! A "Padme Lives" AU

Words: 2,585 * Read on AO3

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Padmé Naberrie Amidala, former Queen of Naboo, former Galactic Senator, and current member of the Rebellion, had been in her share of tight spots before.

But this was the first time the tight spot was an Imperial holding cell.

She’d already examined every inch of the enclosed dimly-lit space, searching for a weakness she could exploit, but found none. There was no access panel, no loose wiring, and no ventilation system large enough for her to squeeze through. So Padmé sat on the bench and watched the door, working on what she would say when an officer inevitably came to interrogate Sola Minnau.

After all, Padmé Amidala was dead.

For a while, Padmé thought she was dead. The galaxy around her swirled in hot reds and blues, then cold blacks and whites. Grief so raw it threatened to tear her apart, pain unlike any she had experienced, then stillness. Such perfect, silent stillness. She was weightless, drifting through some gentle embrace where there was no pain. No suffering.

It was the babies’ cries that called her back.

Once she was well enough to sit upright, she held her children close to her. Leia had Padmé’s eyes; Luke had Anakin’s. She was given privacy to cry. And once she had no more tears to shed, she set to work.

Padmé contacted Sabé, and her dearest friend organized the rest. Gathering Padmé’s former handmaidens, they worked swiftly to organize a body double and a funeral, and before long, the people of Naboo mourned the death of Padmé Amidala.

Heart aching but determined, Padmé had agreed to have her children separated – from her, and from each other. Having lost Anakin, Palpatine would turn his interest to the children if he knew they lived. Obi-Wan disappeared into the Outer Rim with Luke, and Bail falsified Leia’s birth records and took her into his home.

Over the years, Padmé – Sola Minnau, now – worked closely with Bail, Mon Mothma, and other trusted allies, establishing contacts, supply lines, and information networks. They smuggled food and medicine to communities being bled dry by the Empire, and helped those in danger disappear, all while trying to bolster support to resist the ever-growing dominance of the Empire over all worlds.

They all knew the risks. If they were caught, they could be subject to execution, or worse. But Padmé couldn’t stop. She would help, no matter the cost. She had spent her childhood on relief missions with her father, and she hadn’t been able to stand by while her people suffered when she was queen. She wouldn’t hide now.

That’s the thought that kept her focused when the contact on Rodia ended up being an Imperial informant. They had barely greeted each other before Padmé was surrounded by stormtroopers. Padmé had kept quiet, giving only her pseudonym when they initially questioned her. The troopers marched her onto a shuttle, and once they’d boarded the Star Destroyer in orbit, she’d been taken to a holding cell.

She took a deep breath and leaned back against the cold wall. In the twelve years since the fall of the Republic, Padmé had never been taken aboard a capital ship. With no communication or resources, help wasn’t coming. Padmé was on her own.

The door of the holding cell hissed open. She stood as a towering black-clad figure stepped in. Coarse, mechanical breathing filled the room; Padmé forced down a shudder. They had never crossed paths, but she recognized him from endless holos and horror stories, from the expressionless helmeted mask, from the lightsaber hanging from his belt.

Darth Vader.

Darth Vader’s breath would have hitched if his respirator hadn’t dragged the air from his lungs and reinflated them automatically. His heart would have stopped if the cardiac regulator hadn’t measured out steady heartbeats. The servos in his legs whirred as the galaxy was swept from under his feet and he nearly fell to his knees, so overcome with the emotions that suddenly raged inside him.

Padmé was alive. Alive, breathing, not five feet away.

No, that couldn’t be. She was dead. Vader had observed her funeral on Naboo, had mourned at her tomb. This was some trick, some deception meant to rattle him; the Emperor himself was likely behind this, testing Vader’s resolve. What was this trickery then? A PROXY droid? A Force Apparition? A Changeling? Perhaps a handmaiden?

But as Vader and his dead wife stared at one another, he shakily reached out with the Force, and felt – Padmé. Her existence thrummed in the Force, whole and strong, with that same vibrance he remembered from so long ago.

But she’d never looked at him like this. Anger burning in her eyes, resolve in the set of her lips, defiance in her stance. He’d seen her look at others like this and he’d admired her dedication and determination. But to have her glaring at him now, with loathing and defiance… he felt unsettled.

Padmé didn’t waste time. “On what grounds was I arrested?” she demanded. “It’s unlawful to take a citizen into custody without disclosing the nature of the supposed criminal activity.”

The current Admiral of The Executor had been so smug when he’d approached Vader to announce that a rebel insurgent had been captured. Vader had strode to the detention block, flanked by two stormtroopers, ready to wring out all the information he could from the rebel scum –

Of course she would be with the Rebellion. The Empire was the very thing that she had been so concerned about creating during the Clone Wars.

He forced himself to speak. “Conspiracy against the Empire.” His synthesized voice rang out in the enclosed space, so warped and pitched that she would never realize who she spoke to.

But did he really want her to know? Did he want Padmé to know what became of Anakin Skywalker? To see this broken, twisted husk of what remained? Would she want to know? Vader had killed Anakin Skywalker, had carved out everything that remained of the naïve Jedi, everything that Padmé had loved, until only Vader remained.

She was speaking, and Vader said nothing. He just… listened to her voice, bringing to mind memories of her practicing her speeches the night before important Senate sessions, as he half-listened, so happy that the Force had their paths cross all those years ago in Watto’s shop –

Fury burned in Vader’s core and he let it fester, let it burn away at the memories of the man he had killed. He turned his head, addressing the two stormtroopers standing in the cramped cell just behind him. “Leave us.”

Hastily, the troopers filed out, the door sliding closed behind them.

His breathing filled the silence; Padmé had stopped talking when Vader spoke. He felt her fear, though it did not show on her face.

“Do you have nothing to say?”

She had come to him on Mustafar, knowing what he’d done. Even as she betrayed me, she loved me.

It was the last thing she said to him; Vader heard it in his nightmares, sometimes. “Stop, stop now, come back. I love you. Anakin…”

Grief welled in him, and he spoke before he could stop himself. “I thought I lost you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We’ve never met.”

“You were alive, I knew you were, but I felt – I felt our bond break.” His emotions roiled through him. “You were gone, he said –“

Hatred .

“He said I killed you,” Vader rumbled. “He said I killed you in a fit of anger, and when I couldn’t sense you, I believed him. The Emperor lied to me. He’s kept you from me all these years, knowing that I –”

That he what? Would have left Emperor Palpatine’s side? That he would run away with his long-lost wife? That he would kill her?

Padmé’s eyes had gone wide, frightened, incredulous as she stared at him. In a small voice, so quiet he almost didn’t hear: “…Anakin?”

The anguish threatened to consume him.

“Anakin Skywalker is dead.” He paused. “I…am what remains.”

She stared at him for so long, so silently, that Vader wondered if this might be a dream after all. “What…what happened?”

“It is because of Obi-Wan that I am like this,” he hissed.

“No! He would never hurt you! He loved you –”

“Enough! I don’t need to hear empty assurances.”

Fear lingered in her eyes, but that spark had returned. “If you can’t believe he loved you, what about our love?”

“I loved you more than I can ever express. I did everything for you – I would continue to do anything for you – ”

“Except come with me.”

“You brought Obi-Wan to kill me.”

“No! I didn’t know! I didn’t know he’d snuck aboard my ship.” And Vader was startled to hear the truth of her words reverberate in the Force. Taking a hesitant step forward, Padmé’s eyes flickered between the lenses of his mask, as though trying to see through them. “All I wanted was you. For us to be safe, and happy. We didn’t need anything else. Even…even after everything you did…”

“It was necessary. To bring order to the galaxy, to gain powers of the Force that would save –” Vader stopped abruptly. “The child. Does the child live?”

She bristled, and that was all the answer he needed.

He turned from her, but he didn’t see the cold cell around them. He saw a child splashing in the lakes of Naboo, Padmé laughing as she chased them, and Anakin Skywalker watched them from the grass, smiling and happy, whole and unburnt.

And then his vision clouded with red, and black, and Darth Vader’s fury returned, wiping out the scene of peace that had been stolen from him. Because it had been stolen from him. If he had never pledged himself to the Emperor, never razed the Jedi Temple, never succumbed to the Dark Side, if the Emperor hadn’t lied to him about Padmé’s death…

“Anakin?”

He jolted out of his seething reverie. Padmé’s expression was carefully controlled, but Vader could sense her unease, her fear, her… hope.

Her steady voice held more gentleness than he deserved. “What happens now?”

Now, the Emperor would die. Now, Vader would have revenge. Now…

He turned on his heel and waved his hand, the cell door opening, harsh white light spilling into the dim space.

“Bring her,” he commanded.

The stormtroopers moved immediately, pulling Padmé from her cell and marching her behind him. He could feel her eyes boring into the back of his helmet, but he didn’t turn around. If he took the time to explain, he might lose his nerve.

And neither Darth Vader nor Anakin Skywalker ever lost their nerve.

Padmé wanted to cry. She wanted to curl into the corner of some isolated place and sob her heart out. Instead, she raised her chin and walked as upright as she could as the stormtroopers escorted her behind the towering Sith.

How had the man she loved become the most feared monster in the galaxy?

She had believed, all those years ago, that there was still good in Anakin, even as he turned his back on everything he believed because he thought it would save her. But when Obi-Wan said that Anakin was dead –

Obi-Wan. Did he know that Anakin lived? Did he know what had become of his best friend? Had Obi-Wan lied to her about Anakin’s death, the way the Emperor lied to Anakin? No, she couldn’t believe that. He had been nearly as distraught as her. He couldn’t have known.

With all her heart, Padmé wanted to believe that there was still some sliver of good left in the creature that was Darth Vader; some glimmer of Anakin that she could recognize. But the horrific things that Vader had done… She watched the Imperials scatter from him in fear as Vader led her through the maze of corridors. How many had he killed? Tortured? He continued to hunt down surviving Jedi, relentlessly pursued Rebel insurgents, left ruins in his wake.

Could there really be good left in such a man?

She had to believe there was.

The corridor opened to a hanger bay. TIE fighters, small cargo ships, and shuttles lined the platform; technicians, pilots, deck crew, officers, and troopers moved in tightly organized groups, or else with purpose from one task to another. Darth Vader ignored them all, heading straight for a shuttle.

Technicians tending to the shuttle tripped over themselves as they leapt to attention.

“Lord Vader! We weren’t informed of a scheduled departure –”

“An apt statement, as I don’t often operate on schedules.” The man flinched. “I have need of my shuttle. Is it suitable?”

“Yes, my lord! It has been returned to your specifications.”

As the deck crew hurriedly cleared away their equipment, Padmé couldn’t help a twinge of familiarity; of course Anakin would be particular about his ship. So that, at least, had remained.

Darth Vader stood at the landing ramp and faced her. The troopers shoved her forward. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his hand twitch. But he didn’t strike. Instead, he stepped in front of them. “That will be all.”

“Sir?” one of them asked confusedly.

“I am not accustomed to repeating myself.” The low, warning tone sent a shiver up Padmé’s spine.

“Yessir,” the other said hastily, stepping back. The first trooper went to speak, thought better of it, and followed his fellow soldier.

Darth Vader’s shadow fell over her as she walked into the ship. Despite the size of the shuttle, there wasn’t much room inside; half the interior was taken up by some spherical mechanism, like a ball-shaped chamber.

“What’s happening?” she asked, doing her best to keep her tone calm.

Instead of answering, Vader swept past her, cape billowing behind him as he strode to the cockpit. “Strap in until we enter hyperspace.”

Her stomach flipped. Where was he taking her? Why didn’t he bring any guards along? Tense, she lowered herself into a seat and adjusted the safety harness. Darth Vader – Anakin – no, she couldn’t think of him as Anakin – Vader sat in the pilot's seat, expertly flipping switches and adjusting controls until the ship hummed to life.

The harsh white of the hanger bay ended as they emerged into the blackness of space. She could just spy Rodia through the viewport as Vader turned the ship and input coordinates. Coordinates to where? Within moments, the stars warped and stretched, before slingshotting them into the blue-white of hyperspace.

Gathering herself, Padmé undid the harness and stood. Vader made no movement as she walked into the cockpit. Even when she stood beside him, he didn’t turn to look at her. She gazed out the viewport feeling like she was hurtling towards –

“I will take you anywhere you want to go.”

A breath escaped Padmé. “What?”

Vader said nothing.

“You’re –” she sat heavily in a little-used copilots chair. “You’re helping me escape?”

“You will be interrogated as a Rebel spy. You may be tortured, or killed. And if the Emperor discovered your identity, he may take personal interest.”

After a long moment he added softly, “I cannot lose you again.”

With a trembling hand, she reached over and touched the side of that black mask. Finally, he turned to face her. It may have been a trick of the lenses, but for just a moment, she thought she saw his eyes illuminated in the light of hyperspace. Anakin’s eyes. Luke’s eyes.

“Come with me.”

#anidala #andiala zine #anakin skywalker #darth vader #padme amidala #vaderdala #padme lives au #rebel padme au #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars empire era #star wars original trilogy #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #renee's writing #sw #padme/anakin #padme/vader #padme amidala/anakain skywalker

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lady-of-the-spirit · 7 months

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The Jedi order didn't allow love, period, because if they did, the plot wouldn't exist. The Jedi didn't know about Anakin and Padme's marriage at all because if they did, the plot wouldn't exist.

You can analyze the text or headcanon otherwise all you want but at the end of the day, those 2 things are why the story happens.

#these are 2 headcanons i'm fine with in fic but are a pet peeve to see in meta on canon #it's not more complicated than 'these things are true because that's the point of the story'#star wars #star wars prequels #prequel trilogy #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #anidala #i'm saying stuff #jedi order

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anakinskywalkerog · 1 year

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My Very Soul (Chapter 30)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 29

Warnings: battle stuffs. incorrect details about Felucia probably tehe. less Ani than usual but that's because of the story/where we're getting. also sorry if the writing sucks, I think I'm better at writing angst than I am at writing battles/war stuff haha back to angst soon

Summary: You and your Master enter the battle on Felucia, where your plan of attack goes amiss

Word Count: 3.3k

"Commander," Captain Marlo said again, and only this time did his words fully rouse you out of your brain fog. "We've reached orbit."

"Right," you nodded, pretending as if you hadn't just lost your head a little bit. You had been standing at a hallway viewport, watching the ship come out of hyperspace, when that same feeling of buzzing presences had descended on you. The hum in this ship was anticipatory, anxious, battle-hungry—in these presences were the sentiments of soldiers preparing for war. But you'd found yourself getting drawn in by their impressions. And then the humming had shifted, to other feelings, other...places? You'd felt others, children, families, the sounds of birds, the steps on cobblestones, speech in alien tongues...but it was impossible, surely, for you to sense such things when you were this deep in space. Focus, you reminded yourself. You mustn't let your sensitivity to the Force plague you now.

You followed Marlo to the main hangar, where Yuma, Obi-Wan, and Anakin were preparing to depart the command ship. Even though you'd only been separated for a few hours, the sight of Anakin made your heart leap, made your presence relax. A smile fell upon your face as if involuntarily. Anakin grinned back, and you felt a similar swell of emotion in the Force, coming from him.

"Everything is prepared, General," Marlo told Yuma, and Yuma saluted, giving the hand gesture that signaled to Marlo that it was time to return to his troops.

"We've just had word from the existing battalion at the Guild headquarters," Yuma told you all. "Their scouts have intel that the Droid Legion has split into three factions, aiming to strike the front from different angles." At these words, Master Yuma pulled out a handheld holoprojector. A hologram of a rudimentary map arose between you.

"Y/N and I will lead the 415th to cut off the southern platoon," Yuma instructed, pointing to a dot on the map. "Anakin, you'll take the 501st around here, on the southeast. Obi-Wan—"

"The 212th and I will take the eastern side," Obi-Wan interrupted, nodding. "I assume time is of the essence." You felt a slight disturbance in the Force and looked over at Anakin, seeing him attempt to hide the traces of his pout, his eyebrows downturned.

"Yes, it is," Yuma agreed, pocketing the holoprojector. "May the Force be with you both."

"May the Force be with you," Obi-Wan replied, turning to the other side of the hangar, where his ship sat ready to take him to join the 212th on the flank vessel. A pause hung in the air as Anakin stood, as if caught in a Force hold, half-turned away.

"I—" Anakin swallowed, looking pained as he glanced between you and Yuma. You felt your face flush.

"We'll see each other again soon," Yuma told Anakin bracingly. You felt something move in the Force, something between Yuma and Anakin. You scowled, sensing the reason behind Anakin's distress, and finding it a little insulting.

"May the Force be with you both," Anakin sighed, and with that, he turned to follow Obi-Wan to board his own ship, off to join the 501st.

As the command ship was to remain in orbit, you followed Yuma onto one of the landing craft, holding onto the railing on the side as the ship took off. You stood facing at least one hundred clones, all armored and ready for battle. Marlo too had donned his helmet—you could only recognize him by the markings on his torso plate.

"What's our play, General?" one of the clones asked Yuma. You wished you knew his name.

"The Serrulean ambush," Yuma instructed, updating her holopad quickly as the lander made its way down to the surface. The other clones all received their instructions in their armor, and you heard rumbling chatter. You quickly ran over this tactic in your head—the Serrulean ambush was a stealth maneuver, devised to sneak up on the enemy from multiple sides. Clever, you thought, to use the Legion's own plan against them. You'd had all the war tactics memorized for months, but you still ran over this one in your head over and over again, remembering the role the Commander and General must play at every turn. There were no viewports aboard this lander, only the shaking of the ship and the feeling of movement. The air was tense and thick, a dingy remnant of what it must smell like in the clones' quarters. You felt the anticipation in the Force. You were surprised to feel the ship touch down onto the surface so quickly.

As the lander's doors opened, upward toward the sky, and clones spilled out, you felt a blast of warm, humid air hit your face. It was not like the pleasant warmth of the air on Levangé—this air was assaulting, wet, and muggy, even slightly foul smelling. Within seconds you felt your hair sticking to your forehead, your body beginning to sweat under the thin armor you had put on for the first time. The Jedi insignia stood out, red, on your shoulder.

"Serrulean formation," Yuma said quietly into her comm, and as the lander pulled up from the jungle, you watch the clones disperse in perfect harmony. You followed Master Yuma at the head of the remaining group of clones, making sure your steps were quiet.

The jungle was truly unlike anything you'd ever seen. It was overgrown, colorful, and bright. The trees and the greenery—if you could call it that, multicolored as the flora around you was—loomed high above the troops. You'd never seen plants that looked like this, or plants of this size. Some of the plants resembled those that grew in the Temple gardens, in shape at least—but these were massive, as big as the tallest trees on Batuu, and brightly colored. You saw in the distance several rocky outcrops, and, farther away, what looked like mountain ranges. The ground underneath your feet was wet, soft, and warm. The brightness seemed unnatural, and it wasn't only the plants; the sky was a bright yellow, with purplish clouds hanging low over the jungle. Everything around you gave you that sickly, uncanny feeling—as if these colors were dangerous.

Almost as if responding to your train of thought, you felt the disturbance before the danger, and you quickly reached out a hand, pulling the clone to your left out of the way just in time. Through no provocation, the giant succulent to the left of the group, a bright purple and lime green, erupted like a geyser, orange gas pouring out into the air right where the clone had just stood. The group processed this silently, pausing to watch the plant continue erupting before all of the orange gas disappeared from the air. The clone you had saved saluted you, and you saluted back, finally feeling useful. Yuma patted you on the arm, giving the group of clones the silent hand command to continue forward.

The group walked for some time through the jungle, the clones holding their guns cocked. Your lightsaber hung at your side, as you were waiting for Master Yuma's cue to light it—lightsabers were to remain unlit during all stealth maneuvers. You felt outward through the Force, sensing the vibrations through the ground, feeling forward for any danger. That's when you felt them.

About fifty yards ahead of you, you felt the pounding of metallic feet and the hover of Armored Assault Tanks. They weren't moving in your direction, but perpendicular to your path, in what you assumed was the direction of the Guild headquarters. You reached forward, lightly placing your hand on Yuma's arm. She nodded without looking back at you—she'd felt them too.

At Yuma's hand signal, you and the clones fanned out through the dense underbrush, taking on a perfect Serrulean attack formation. You saw Yuma using her comm to signal silently to the other clone groups. You walked forward slowly, holding your breath, until you were in attack position. The droid troops were just paces in front of you now, and you looked around, seeing the clones readying themselves. You waited for the signal, trying to breathe out your fear.

It happened all at once. At the signal, you leapt into the air, lighting your saber in one fluid motion. You had at least ten droids halved and in pieces on the ground before any of them had turned to regard your attack. But they were turning now, and you heard the clones behind you, their blasters going off with the sound of the lasers. The battle droids were all over the place, unsuspecting as they were of your attack. You'd gotten through a large chunk of them before the Armored Assaut Tanks had the chance to turn around.

You felt it before it would happen and shouted at the clones nearest you to get out of the way. You jumped again, flying into the air like a flea, feeling the heat from the blast singe the bottom of your tunic. Your ears pounded, trying to recover from the sound the tank had made from the blast of its powerful guns. You landed amidst the bodies and the scattered armor, you heart beating firmly.

Focus, you told yourself again, feeling the pang inside of you, turning away from the lost clones. You couldn't let yourself grieve. You had to remain in formation.

"Y/N, the tanks!" you heard Yuma shout from your right side. Turning to see her running forward toward the hovering tank, ahead on your right, you spun quickly, running in between the confused battle droids, keeping your head low. You used your saber to block their useless shots, swiping through and destroying those you could as you ran. You kept your eyes on your target.

The tank loomed above you, and you watched as another blast shot out of its gun, hearing the sound of it making contact with the battalion behind you. You ran flat out, as fast as you could, dropping to your back and sliding underneath the hovering craft, your saber held out above your chest like a sword.

Slicing through the metal was easy—you used your momentum to carry your slide until the tank was no longer above you. You hopped up, blocking a blast from the command droid emerging from the top of the tank, and reflecting the bullet back toward its chest. The tank made a horrible grinding noise and fell to the earth. You turned and saw Yuma standing by her disabled tank. She nodded to you, smiling.

It was then that you felt it—through the energy of the battle, through the sounds of the clones engaging the droid army, through the blasts from the tanks, something bigger was thundering your way, faster than any instrument of war could travel.

"Yuma!" you shouted, turning to see her eyes light up in fear. You turned back to behold it: the largest creature you'd ever seen on land, thundering through the jungle, flattening trees and plants. A jungle rancor.

The creature roared with fury, using its large arms and claws to tear apart the tank closest to it. It then roared again, turning on the clones, who started to aim their blasters at its head.

"Don't engage it!" Yuma shouted into her comms. "Its armor is too thick." But it was no use—the jungle rancor ran forward, scattering clones and droids alike. The beast took no side, but it was out for blood.

"Full back!" Yuma shouted again. You saw, from a distance, the clones retreating into the jungle, their guns aloft, shooting at the droids and at the rancor. But you couldn't follow them—you stood, with Yuma, in the middle of the platoon of droids, all who seemed to be following orders to shoot right at your hearts. You blocked their attacks with your sabers, but they were closing in. You found yourself back to back with your former Master.

"What do we do?" you asked, your voice frantic, blocking the blasts from the droids as you saw the rancor raging through the platoon, grabbing droids and shoving them into its mouth.

"We need to get out of here," Yuma said, stating the obvious. She was looking around quickly, assessing your surroundings. You did the same.

"There!" you yelled, pointing to the nearest rocky outcrop behind the rancor. You could see the tiny dark line that indicated a cave high up in the rock.

"Right," Yuma said, looking around as she used her saber to block blasts left and right. "On my signal."

You nodded, but you had no need. You were communicating with your Master through the Force. This was a maneuver you'd done before, in different circumstances, though your situation had never been so dire as this.

"Now!" Yuma shouted, and you both leapt into the air, in formation, your sabers spinning around you as you flew in an arc, out of the circle of droids, slicing through them with your blades. You landed lightly, your Master beside you, and the two of you watched as the rancor turned toward you, swiping away droids left and right with its giant claws.

"Run!" Yuma yelled, but you didn't need telling twice. You turned and sprinted, holding your saber in a reverse hold behind your back, blocking blasts as you felt them come. As you climbed up into the jungle rock, you looked back, seeing the rancor turning on the tanks. They were attempting to fire at it, but the blasts were bouncing off its thick hide, going in all directions. You felt one of the blasts hit the ground beneath you, shaking the rock.

"In here," you said, turning to give Yuma a hand up into the cave you'd seen from a distance. Droids were not intelligent enough to come find you in here, and so, you knew, you'd be safe hiding for the time being. But not for long, you thought, your heart hammering in your chest.

"Farther back," Yuma instructed quietly, and as she climbed fully into the rock face, you both crawled, farther into the cave, into the darkness.

You were surprised at how far back the cave went. This was no ordinary jungle, you realized, feeling the dampness of the rock floor and the humidity of the air.

"This should be sufficient," Yuma whispered when you'd crawled far enough in that your forms were just barely visible. You turned back, your eyes struggling to adjust to the dim light, seeing Yuma kneeling and pulling out her chrono. The cave was not large enough for either of you to stand. You looked around, seeing that the tunnel kept leading inward, into the rock.

"What now?" you asked quietly, seeing Yuma signaling with a few taps.

"I've told Marlo to regroup with the others at the Guild," Yuma responded, looking back up at you. "We'll have to find our way there ourselves." Yuma gestured toward the dark tunnel, holding her saber high and trying to see forward.

"How do you know there's another way out?" you asked, holding your saber up in the same fashion. You couldn't see much from the light it cast. The green of your saber and Yuma's against the rock gave the cave an eerie feeling.

"I don't," Yuma responded. "Only one way to find out."

You continued crawling forward, feeling Yuma's troubled presence behind yours. Eventually, the tunnel in the rock grew larger, and it widened enough for you to stand. You brushed your tunic, pushing your sweaty hair away from your face. It was slightly cooler in here than it had been in the heat of the jungle, but it was still humid.

"You know," Yuma said casually, "you did very well out there. For your first battle, I mean."

"Thanks," you said gruffly, walking forward and holding your lightsaber high. You were conflicted. On the one hand, you couldn't help but feel a hint of the same annoyance that you had felt on the ship, when Anakin had been reluctant to leave you. Why did everyone seem so protective? Why did Yuma feel the need to praise you, now? It was a little condescending. On the other hand, you were glad that Yuma was with you. Her presence made this feel like just another mission—like old times. It was comforting, having her support.

"Even though I know you'll be leading your own battalion, soon," Yuma continued, and you could hear a smile in her voice, "I think we still make a good team." In Yuma's presence you felt a hint of nostalgia, a warm feeling. You sighed.

"We do," you said, turning and smiling at your former Master. She clasped your arm briefly, then gestured for you to continue forward.

The cave seemed to grow darker and darker as you delved deeper into the depths of the rock. The ground under your feet started to feel funny. The darkness swayed a bit, as if the rocks themselves were humming, vibrating. You felt as if the cave was starting to moan, to chant—except it wasn't the cave. You heard the humming continue, a buzzing, a bell chiming somewhere, the voices rising in a swell.

"Y/N? What is it?" you heard Yuma ask from behind you, her hand touching your shoulder.

"I...I don't..." you said, scrunching your eyes shut, stopping in your tracks. It was like the ground was telling you not to continue. Yuma pulled on your shoulder and spun you around, holding her saber high so that she could look at your face.

"Is it Dooku?" Yuma whispered, barely making a sound. Whatever she saw on your face, it was causing her to feel alarmed. Her presence was frightened. You blinked, trying to see what was really in front of you. Through your blurry vision, you saw Yuma pull out her chrono, signaling to someone.

"No..." you started, trying to feel your way through the murky weeds of the humming, feeling the clouds coming for you once again. It wasn't Dooku—of that you were sure. You would recognize his presence. But...you heard the sounds of singing, some old, low song, the dark voices all singing the same note. You felt the sounds of voices rising and falling, heard the buzzing of a fly landing in a field of grass. You heard the grass, the wind swaying through it. You heard them all, all of them alive, living. You felt it coming. You felt the darkness meeting the light.

Suddenly, the ground under you rumbled, as if the rock had been hit by another blast. The cave started to shake, the ground underneath you unstable. Slowly, the rock split, shifting, opening a chasm before you.

"It's going to cave in!" Yuma shouted, pushing you out of the way. You fell, hard, fighting through the fog to reach for Yuma, but it was too late—you felt her arm slip away from yours, felt her sliding away from you, down into the depths of the cave.

"Yuma! Master!" you yelled, frantically, but the humming was growing louder. The dark voices were swelling, their low notes chanting in the darkness, and you couldn't see. You couldn't feel. You reached out with your hands. "Master!" you yelled again, feeling the fear enter your presence, but it was no use. It was too dark. You felt the cave pulling you forward, swallowing you. Were you falling into the chasm? You couldn't know. The humming was all around you. The voices were getting louder.

Something grabbed onto your wrists, pulling them together and binding them. The humming wouldn't stop. You reached out with the Force, pushing the humming back, pushing it off you. It was then that you felt the presence—a familiar presence. You wrenched your eyes open.

"Hello, again," you heard in the woman's voice, and you stared into a pair of malevolent violet eyes.

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

sorry for the cliff hanger!

NEW CHAPTER UP NOW AND IT'S 😭😭😭

luh you

taglist: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @padmeamidalaslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza @prettylittlecarstairs @deadunicorn159 @atoelicker @arelisskywalker @maythefloorbewithyouanakin @your-local-crzy-lady @dontmindme262 @xenochuguardian @cassiopeiashift @allihavenegativethoughts @hamiltonwc @1-800-nostalgiaaa @heyitsaloy @haydenchristensenluvbot @sunflwrsunnieshine @muthafuckingstargirl @window-to-nothing @shadowhuntyi @jedi-archives @inmourningforanakin @vivsmcdo @betrund @ahqkas @aquaamethyst96 @escapepoet @randomstuff2040 @kenjikishimotosupremecy @nycweb-slinger @anxlaufeyson @magic-magnoliaa @theezlife @unipugrose22-blog @anhsoka @lucyysthings @hopefulpursepeanutdeputy @captainson-of-coul @zelzablues @chrisevansslutttt2

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ribbononline · 9 months

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New fic by @silverjirachi out wahoo wahoo! Go support it!!

#my fic commentary remains impeccable <3 (gnawing)#more quick fanfic doobles its more likely then you think >:]#also going through an art style crisis atm dont worry abt it KJHKJSDF #anyways. big fan of spinda that was my fav mon as a bit as a kid. also worried abt spinda considering it was never mentioned in the sequel #please be alive out there buddy #good excuse to draw younger them again :] prequel fics always fun #curious to see where it will go!! also specifically what the end point will be :3c #is it the archie running away in the night plotpoint or.#like courtney has very much alluded to things after that in th already existing sequel fic will we get to see #or will those things be tackled in the last part of the trilogy hmhmm #i like thinking abt fanfics. i like how everyone in the fandom has such different takes on the characters #allows me to take them and put them in scenarios its like free aus for days to play w #<making up so many endings and plotthreads up in my head to every fic i get my grubby hands on #rotating them around like theyre in a microwave #oh back on track i do not remember if the devil and the dead sea ever mentioned eye color of either of them so i just fuckin winged it #perhaps they are inaccurate if so Uhm. Apologies #now we patiently wait for the chapter releases. spinning really hard #TWO fics ive been excited for updating again after a good forever tis a good month

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tomicaleto · 3 months

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For the writing prompts

obikin and 18 or 22 or 45, whichever you like more! 😊

Hi Anon!

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I'LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

18. waking up with amnesia au

this is a direct continuation from this Sith AU, as in, this picks up a couple of weeks later. I strongly recommend reading the linked snippet first, and in general all the little snippets I wrote for this AU before reading this one.

That being said, let's go

The light bothered him enough that Obi-Wan opened his eyes with a frown. He was on a bed, a thin white sheet covering his body. Everything hurt and he groaned as the world slowly shifted into focus, his surroundings filled with bacta tanks and medical beds. A machine beeped close to him on regular intervals, and there was a line connecting his right arm to a serum bag.

A body shifted, a young Mon Calamari with a holopad who took in the sign of Obi-Wan being awake and checked his vitals before greeting him gently.

“Where am I?” Obi-Wan asked, barely repressing the urge to snap the line out of his arm. The Mon Calamari muttered as he typed on his pad. “The patient shows signs of disorientation corresponding with a long period of unconsciousness. Keep under observation in case the symptom persists.”

Finally, he looked up towards Obi-Wan. “You are at the medic bay in the Jedi temple. My master will join us shortly and make sure everything is going well with your recovery.” “Jedi temple? What happened to me?” “You got stabbed by a piece of debris that punctured part of your lung and stomach. Lost quite the amount of blood and oxygen levels turned worrisome low. Would have died if they hadn’t brought you here.”

Just as he finished speaking, a Togruta entered the room and smiled at the Mon Calamari before turning to Obi-Wan. “Now this is a sight I thought I’d never see again. How is our patient doing?” “So far his recovery is going according to plan, Master.” “Excellent, the Council will appreciate this information. Has he shown signs of aggression?" “Not so far, mostly confusion.”

Irritation filled him. It wasn’t enough that he had woken up in an unfamiliar place, being talked about as if he wasn’t there was pissing him off. The Togruta turned towards him and leaned forwards, turning on a small lantern and cheeking his eyes. “Your reflexes seem to be doing great. I’m gonna ask you some questions to help you ease back into the living world. You almost became one with the Force!”

Obi-Wan grunted as an answer. “Alright. First things first: do you know who you are?” “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi-” “Haven’t heard that name for years,” interrupted the healer, only confusing him more. “Other names you identify yourself with?” “No.” The questions continued, getting more annoying and more confusing as well.

No, Obi-Wan did not know who the main general of the Separatists was. No, he did not know Count Dooku personally. No, he had never met the Jedi Council before. He did not know who Qui-Gon Jinn was. And most importantly, he did not understand why he had ended in the Jedi med bay to be treated after his injury. The Mon Calamari took notes of everything he answered and exchanged a quiet look with his master once the questions were over. “I will notify the Council immediately.” The Togruta master said. “In the meantime, make sure our patient doesn’t get too overwhelmed with outside stimulus until we can figure out how to fix his memory loss.”

The Mon Calamari nodded and then hesitated. “Uh, what should I do if Knight Skywalker visits?” The name tickled something in the back of Obi-Wan’s brain, like an unanswered question that escaped him. “You let him in, of course, and take notes of everything they talk about.” A couple of hours later, as a healer brought him lunch and a holopad with a novel to keep him entertained, the doors opened and someone walked in.

At the healer’s sigh, Obi-Wan looked up from the holopad to see the most gorgeous man he had ever seen. The man looked up from where he was glaring at the floor and his expression eased, making Obi-Wan’s heart jump, the machine he was connected to betraying the effects the man was having on him. He ignored as the Mon Calamari frantically tried to understand what was happening as the man finally reached the bed and sat down near him. “Hi,” he began softly. “It’s nice seeing you awake.” Obi-Wan did not exactly know who this man was or why he was glad he was awake but he didn’t particularly care, happy to have his lovely eyes fixed on him.

He did not appreciate the Mon Calamari approaching the man and leaning down to whisper something to him, and he actually frowned when the man’s face went from curiosity to confusion to… grief? He wasn’t quite sure and forgot to ask the moment the man took his hand between his. “Hi, Obi-Wan, you may not remember me right now but I’m Anakin.” He looked at him with earnest eyes, and the name made something inside Obi-Wan warm with familiarity. Even then, the name did not spark any memory, and he simply smiled politely to Anakin. Something inside him, though, screamed at him that Anakin was important, that he needed to make a good impression. So, he sent him a smouldering look and said: “Hello there.”

He did not expect Anakin to burst into laughter, startling the Mon Calamari. But his confusion over the reaction didn’t stop Obi-Wan’s heartbeat from accelerating again.

Thank you for sending me this! I hope you enjoyed it!

#obikin #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Anakin Skywalker #Star Wars #SW #The Clone Wars #TCW #Prequel trilogy #Sith AU #Star Wars AU #asks #anonymous #ask game #prompts ask game #Tomi's fics

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catofadifferentcolor · 4 months

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Terrible Fic Idea #84: Star Wars, but make it the Outer Rim

I've been reading a lot of Star Wars fic lately, much of it involving time travel in some shape or form. Most of it is wonderful, but after a while some of it starts to read as let's fix the Republic so we can bring the light and civilization of the core to the outer rim. Which, while possibly disingenuous, feels a little too much like the justifications made by Europeans for their colonial empires.

As I said, I'm probably reading too much into certain tropes, but can't help but wonder: what if one of these fics started in the outer rim as a way of bringing light and goodness back to the core? Or: Save Tatooine, save the galaxy.

Just imagine it:

Several years have passed after The Book of Boba Fett in the original timeline. While the New Republic calls Daimyo Fett's leadership just another crime syndicate masquerading as good government, anyone who's actually been to the planet knows it's the other way around. Most crime syndicates don't care for planetary infrastructure or public vaccination programs.

Boba has encouraged Din to use his palace as a base for his bounty hunting activities - and as a home planet for the small community of Mandelorians building around their Mand'alor. Ideally, this would be the start of a courtship that wouldn't be moving as slowly as it is if Din wasn't an oblivious idiot about 1) his feelings and 2) traditional Mandalorian courting, but it could also simply be vod'e being vod'e. Dealer's choice.

And so Din is on planet when someone tries to bribe Boba for one reason or another with an ancient Sith artifact.

Din calls in a Jedi from Luke's school to investigate - Cal Kestis, who is one of a handful of trained adults in the new Jedi Order and the most knowledgeable about weird force osik...

...which doesn't stop Cal from accidentally triggering the artifact and sending Boba, Din, and himself back in time to the year 53 BBY, shortly before Jaster Mereel is set to die in the Battle of Korda VI.

As if finding themselves on Tatooine approximately 66 years in the past - well before any of them were even born - isn't enough, all three find themselves in their teenage bodies. Boba and Din are somewhere between 15 and 17, when they have most of their adult height but none of their bulk, while Cal is disgusted to find himself a particularly short 12. This in no way reflects their real differences in ages, and they are forced to attribute it to more inexplicable force osik.

Despite their ages, this proves an opportunity to stop the Empire from ever forming. But how? None of them know enough about the precise course of events to begin to stop it, and even if they could manage to get the Jedi Council to listen to them, waltzing into the Jedi Temple and declaring themselves time travelers is bound to put them on Palaptine's radar in a way that is likely to end their painful deaths.

The solution, they decide, is to get the Jedi to come to them. After all, if they repeat Boba's actions from the future, overthrow the Hutts, and free the slaves on Tatooine, someone from the Jedi is bound to come and investigate.

Taking over Tatooine proves easier than their wildest dreams.

Killing Jabba the Hutt in his own throne room and transmitting a signal that jams slave chips across the planet is all that's needed to spark a general uprising against the slavers and Jabba's criminal empire.

It's a little less easy getting the representatives of the colonists, freed slaves, and native peoples to believe that a pair of teenage Mandos and a half-grown Jedi took out a member of the Grand Hutt Council, but once they hear Boba's plans to convert the planet's slave-based economy to a viable democracy funded in part by the wealth of Jabba's vaults, they're more than willing to vote him Daimyo. His actions more than make up for his apparent age.

The Republic is naturally less sanguine. Mandalorians on Tatooine? Is this the start of another war of conquest? (To say nothing that several of the more corrupt members are in the position to lose a lot of money if crime and slave trade is disrupted in the outer rim.) The Senate orders the Jedi to investigate.

The Jedi are also in an uproar. Not only do holos show a young force sensitive helping a pair of Mandos take over Tatooine, but one of those Mandos has a lightsaber the likes of which they've never seen. (Tensions between Jedi and the Mandalorians are such that no one recognizes the Darksaber for what it is or what it means.) Could this mean some dark side sect has sent some of their apprentices to help rebuild the Mandalorian Empire?

The Mandalorians are also unsettled - Death Watch because the Darksaber seems to have disappeared overnight, only to end up with a child in unpainted beskar half a galaxy away; the True Mandalorians because it looks to them that Death Watch might be sending children into battle to build the empire they're always going on about; and the New Mandolorians because this is exactly the kind of violence that gives Mandalore a bad name.

And all of this fails to take into account the Sith, who are naturally upset that the fear and despair they've worked so hard to cultivate on the edges of the Republic has been disrupted with something so light as hope.

All parties converge on Tatooine.

The Mandalorians arrive first. The True Mandalorians are just beginning to investigate when Death Watch decides to attack first and ask questions never.

Boba, Din, and Cal were expecting this and so have a plan in place that allow their forces to take down most of the terrorists while ensuring Jaster Mereel survives, thereby preventing Korda VI, Galidraan, and all that follows. Montross is killed in the fighting without his double cross ever being known.

This also manages to convince the True Mandalorians that they're just a bunch of kids trying to make their way in the galaxy, and while they ask why take over a planet? why not just join a mercenary guild?, Jaster can't deny that they're doing a good thing. He stations some of his people on planet and leaves them be, content Din isn't going to try to push his claim as Mand'alor and/or build another extremist terrorist sect around the Darksaber.

The Mandalorians leave right as a large number of Jedi arrive. In this party are most of their best lightsaber dualists, including a less jaded Yan Dooku and a young Qui-Gon Jinn (who is only a few months out from Xanatos' Fall and in desperate need of a mind healer). Forced proximity has made the later very clear to all the Jedi Masters involved, and this alone prevents many of the tragedies of Obi-Wan's early apprenticeship.

Qui-Gon's mental health aside, the Jedi presume they'll be attacked by dark siders the moment they touch down on Tatooine. Instead they're invited to the Daimyo's palace, given refreshments, and brought before the planet's new ruling council. Which includes two freed slaves, a wizened Tusken grandmother, a pair of moisture farmers, and a representative from one of the cantinas in addition to a pair of teenage Mandos and a young force sensitive.

This meeting goes a long way to convincing the Jedi that what's happening on Tatooine could be a good thing - particularly after Boba turns over everything they could find regarding some of Jabba's dealings with several shady senators and businessmen within the bounds of the Republic. Including one young senator, Sheev Palpatine of Naboo. While several are able to talk their way out of trouble, it removes the worst of Palpatine's future lackeys from power.

The Jedi also invite Cal to come back with them to the temple to "finish" his training. Cal invites them instead to build a satellite temple on Tatooine. After all, there's no reason why a religious order should be tied to the Republic government, and setting up a temple in the outer rim would allow the Jedi to help those on the outer rim more easily, without waiting for the approval of the Senate.

The Jedi obviously don't agree right away - but it does mean that they come back fairly often to discuss the particulars, meaning that someone is on planet when the Sith decide the best way to fix their plans is to try to assassinate the young Daimyo and his allies, revealing the Sith's continued existence decades early.

Which is where my plot bunny starts to fizzle out.

With Jaster Mereel alive, the True Mandalorians have a real chance of stopping both the terrorism of Death Watch and the cultural genocide of the New Mandalorians, leaving Mandalore in a position of strength versus the Republic. So long as this remains the case, plans for a New Sith Empire must be put on hold.

With the shadiest characters removed from the Senate, it's harder for a Sith to take charge of it - especially when a strengthening Tatooine continues to disrupt smuggling and slave trafficking in the outer rim, reducing the darkness and the funds he has access to.

And so though the details are up to the dealer, taking over Tatooine disrupts the Sith's machinations enough that they're forced to show their hands too soon, and thus defeated before they can ever give rise to the empire. It's not easy, but it involves a lot less suffering than the original timeline.

Bonuses include: 1) Merrin and Grogu also traveling through time as a result of the force bonds that they have with Cal and Din respectively. They wake up on the currently uninhabited planet Luke's school will occupy in the future rather than Tatooine and have to go through a quest of their own to get off planet and rejoin the others. This should involve accidentally helping the other's plans to prevent the empire, such as by disrupting a crime syndicate or blowing up the Trade Federation's first droid factory; 2) Teenagers being teenagers. These kids may have been adults in the future with all their adult memories, but they've got teenage bodies now and it shows; and 3) Boba and company never outright admitting they're time travelers, but dropping enough hints to the relevant parties that they eventually come to that conclusion on their own. Only then do they share the details of the horrible future they've prevented.

And that's all I have. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More SW Fic Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

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anretc · 2 months

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Fic: A Harbour in the Tempest

A Harbour in the Tempest (811 words) by anr Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Padmé Amidala/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Padmé Amidala, Obi-Wan Kenobi Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Padmé Amidala Lives, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort Summary: The baby stirs in her arms as Beru walks forward to take him, and Padme's broken heart splinters again.

#star wars #obi-wan kenobi #padme amidala #fic #fanfic #anretc #prequel trilogy #fanfic by anr #obi-wan/padme #obidala

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dio-icarticaae · 4 months

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Work in Progress Wednesday!

So, the Mace Windu and Depa Billaba fic that I've been sharing snippets from (scroll through this tag to find them) is going well - currently 15.7k with a few thousand more words to write. Should be done in a couple weeks! But, I have run out of snippets from it to share (the rest give away far too much of the plot). So, in hopes that I'll get this finished quickly, here's the fic summary!

Mace Windu survives his fall from the Chancellor’s Office, and Depa Billaba was not as dead as the clones thought she was. Organa’s budding rebellion seems like the best place to go to cause problems for the Empire, and to hold the fractured elements of the Jedi together. They’ve lost so many to the Empire (including Caleb) and they’re not about to take the Empire lying down or let the Jedi Order die – no, they’re going to make Palpatine’s life as much of a living hell as possible.

But who is the strange Jedi in Phoenix Squadron? The name Kanan Jarrus doesn’t ring any bells.

Or: On family, finding those you thought you had lost, and the Jedi ability to bend but not break

#star wars rebels #mace windu #depa billaba #kanan jarrus #star wars #prequel trilogy #star wars the clone wars #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #my fic #my writing #dio writes #work in progress #work in progress wednesday

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allskywalkerswhine · 8 months

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i cant stop thinking about padme carrying two skywalkers and all the midichlorians that come with it

#what a fucking incredible idea #pregnancy as horror #like anakin killed someone with his mind at twelve and begged obi wan to cut him off from the force because it burns shed be in agony #the galaxy falling apart around her and she can feel it #padme amidala #star wars prequel trilogy #revenge of the sith #rots #sw rots #star wars #star wars prequels #star wars au #star wars angst #anidala #fic idea #lee posts

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 2 months

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Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

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captainsophiestark · 7 months

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Star Wars Masterlist

Main Masterlist

X - x reader F - Female Reader (otherwise it’s gender neutral) ☀️ - Fluff ✨ - Humor ☁️ - Angst 💙 - Platonic ⭐️ - Author Faves

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Love X ☁️☀️⭐️

Love Has Many Forms X ☁️

Meddling Best Friend F!X ☀️

The Level-Headed One X ☀️

A Bad Idea X ☀️✨

Anakin Skywalker

Catch Me If You Can X ☀️✨

Responsibility X ☀️

Blue Shadow Virus X ☁️☀️

Take a Break X ☀️

Subtle Clues X ☀️✨

Gray Jedi X ☁️☀️

End of the Line X ☀️✨

Padmé Amidala

Tabloids X ☀️✨

Vacation X ☀️✨

The Best Kind Of Crazy X ☀️⭐️

Han Solo

Buckle Up X ☀️✨

Hallucinations F!X ☀️

P.S. Fuck Off X ☀️✨

Leia Organa

Lean On Me X ☁️☀️

Finn

The Best of the Best X ☀️

Poe Dameron

Smooth Talker: Part 1 Part 2 F!X ☀️✨

Worth It X ☁️☀️

Snore X ☀️

Revenge X ☀️✨

Error, Flight Not Possible X ☀️✨

Always Be Prepared X ☀️

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lady-of-the-spirit · 10 months

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There are so many aspects of Anakin's entire personality that can be explained by him being raised as a slave but so many fans somehow forget this entirely.

#i see so many posts or fics that are like 'anakin's just like that he's weird lol' and i'm like you remember he was a slave right #anakin skywalker #star wars #prequel trilogy #clone wars #i'm saying stuff

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jaguarys · 3 months

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Everyone send help I'm thinking about Dooku and the Tirra'Taka again

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asocial-skye · 1 year

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even as a shadow, even as a dream

The tomb preserved everything perfectly.

Her image was preserved for all eternity in the stained glass. It felt almost larger than life, with her regnal portrait transferred to the stained glass. Her brown tresses framed her face sharply, and her cold eyes carried grace and class in a way that even her best speeches never truly brought on. The immaculate image she sought to cultivate every time that he saw her get ready for in the Senate was perfect. An icon for the ages.

She stares at him in final judgment; the tone, the serenity, it all carried him back to another woman, with green locks and pale skin, who stood for light and paid the price for her folly. In another life, when his deepest nightmares merely encroached on his reality rather than merge with it, he imagined himself in black with pale skin, holding the weapon shakily as everything bled and suffered to its death. He’d sit the ashes he’d made, hovering over a body, weapon impaling as his bloody hands wrapped around the handle as the Force screamed what did you do.

My nightmares were always my reality, only I was too weak to see it. I could only hide, and when running was impossible, I crumbled and burned everything else for a chance to escape only to fall into the fire I set ablaze.

Vader stalks through the mausoleum, footsteps dull and angry despite the hesitance in their master. The doors whistled quietly as they shut, the small thud echoing through the chamber until it became a deafening roar. His cape swished ominously, frighteningly cheery and disturbing large swaths of air. Everything about his presence in the tomb was foul, unnatural and inhumane, yet he felt drawn to it.

When he finally gained the arrogance to reenter Naboo and attend her mausoleum, he stopped in front of the carved doors for two minutes. His background swirled in that Force-damned red tinge, his limbs weighed him until it felt like agony to simply remain upright, and his breathing so loud it almost managed to drown out the last words of a strangled woman.

I love you…..Anakin..

Her coffin had her image carved into it, and for a moment he reaches out, to tenderly stroke her face, and he withdraws. He is a monster, she is dead. He will forever hate himself to death, and deny himself the release of impalement, for he would never deserve it. She would remain dead, the galaxy would spin on its uncaring rotation, oblivious to the rage he wreaked upon it. He loved her, oh how he loved her, but that love could not keep her. He'd love her as misery loved him, and even misery's tight fingers felt like a loose grip as he remembered choking the life from her. He once may have proclaimed his desire to move the stars for her joy, to warp reality to her whims, to burn her enemies, smiling at their agonizing screams and to wretch the eyes from her enemies and string them like pearls, but that life was over. None of that weak man, of the lakes of Varykino, of an office corner in Coruscant, of a wine bottle on a speeder exists.

He settles for kneeling, and almost scoffs at the delusions he enjoys laboring under. For all of his denials, hatred and numb terror, he is powerless at her hands. Death, for all of its unstoppable malice and vitriol, could not crush his weakness.

The whiteness of everything, the morning star’s light filtering through the stained glass, the marble arches and walkways, her coffin, the last image of her that he would ever see, repelled him. The purity, the kindness, the goodness, it all fell into a mockery of sorts. Everything that she dedicated herself towards, he proved himself to be the antithesis of. Her Republic was overthrown, fallen with him to create his Empire. Her belief in the goodness of the Jedi? Lost to the cold sweeps of times, which would wash the Jedi’s deeds away until they were nothing more than an ancient memory.

The cold marble seemed to freeze into his joints, almost as a warning. Leave, do not return. Poison this place no longer, demon.

And when Darth Vader turned to leave, he could feel arms around him. He wasn’t sure whether they were holding him in place or dragging him out: kicking, punching, screaming leave leave before he infected her forever.

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