Post-Order 66 - Tumblr Posts

This is now cannon. And I'm sure Luke got some great naps with Cody.

post order 66, having later joined obi-wan on tatooine, cody stiffly stares at the 10 year old using him to rest against as he sleeps.

cody, whispering: si– obi-wan, he's asleep on me. do i just sit here?

obi-wan: just let him rest, cody. he trusts you.

cody: but what if he wakes up and—

obi-san, chuckling softly: and finds himself with a protector like you? i think he'll be just fine, dear.

cody: mmf.. okay.

Febuwhump day 1! Touch starved

Fandom: Star Wars

Time: A few years after Order 66

  Obi-wan Kenobi had been alone for a long time. He misses many things. Many things. These feelings often came in waves, sometimes all at once. Missing his family, his life, his happiness. The feelings both mental and physical were the things he craved but understood he could never have again. 

Obi-wan glanced at the window. He noted the shades of orange he loved so much. They reminded him of his commander, his lover, his Cody. Of course he didn't really know if he could or should still call him that. However Obi-wan chose to believe that Cody had his reasons to do as he did, to try to kill him with no known reason to him.

    Walking outside Obi-wan would watch the sunset. The warmth reminded him of the warmth he felt from long embraces. But of course the sun would set and long hugs would end.

    Walking back inside Obi-wan closed the door with a sigh. He walked a very short distance to his bed and laid down. The thoughts of his former lover stayed with him. He began to think how he missed being greeted with short hugs and soft kisses when entering a room that the two were alone in, how cuddles after long, cold missions felt, the warmth of being so close together and feeling so safe with each other. He found himself missing the warm feeling of fingers running over scars.

    Of course the thoughts of Cody couldn't stay loving for long. Obi-wan was reminded of the order. This would remind him of the jedi. the Jedi he had been friends with.

    There was Plo Koon, a very gentle and sweet man who treated everyone kindly. He remembered Plo giving him a long and caring hug after Qui-gon had died. He could swear Plo gave some of the best hugs in the galaxy.

    Qui-gon. Qui-gon knew exactly what to do in most many scenario. When Obi-wan was stressed Qui-gon would rest his hand gently on his shoulder and reassure him everything would be alright. Now Obi-wan just wished for any reassurance at all.

    Qui-gon would spiral into thoughts of Anakin, his brother. Anakin was always a very touchy person. He constantly would poke at Obi-wan when he needed something or simply wanted his master's attention. Anakin's hugs had always been something he looked forward to. Anakin liked giving people physical affection. Obi-wan suspected that it was from never receiving much when he was younger.

    With thoughts of Anakin came thoughts of Ahsoka, Rex, Padme, and the twins.

    Obi-wan sat up trying to shake the thoughts of his past family but he knew he wouldn't be able to. Standing up he walked towards the door. He opened the door and as the somewhat chilly air hit him the thoughts went to the back of his mind. He didn't need to think of the people he knew and loved. The people who rather betrayed him or died. 

    Being outside didn't help for very long as the thoughts creeped back in. Ahsoka had also enjoyed Physical affection. She liked piggy back rides and often got them from Anakin and Rex. Of course Obi-wan had given her a few over the years. Ahsoka was a very kind soul, one who was done so wrong by the times and by the jedi. He hoped she was still out there somewhere, wishing to see her again, to give her one last piggy back ride or to have one last hug but he understood it simply wasn't possible.

    Obi-wan knew he needed sleep. Trying to stay outside and brush off the thoughts of loved ones simply wouldn't work. Walking back inside he thought of old friends now all gone. Closing the door he walked back towards the bed, laying down again. He grabbed his own hand and held it. It didn't help much but it was something and right now he needed anything. Well he needed his family, his friends but he couldn't have those. Not anymore.

    Tears began to run down his face as he curled himself into a ball. He wished he had someone who could be there to comfort him. But no one would come. The only thing that would come would be the suns in the morning telling him it was time to leave. Maybe just maybe his thoughts would leave with the night.

Febuwhump Day 19: "You Deserve This."

Fandom: Star Wars

Timeline: The Bad Batch

    Caleb ran through the crowd of people. Behind him chased Crosshair. Watch its and move it kids were thrown at him constantly as he tried to make his way to the woods. In the woods he could hide, he could be safe. If need be he could draw his lightsaber in the woods. He couldn't hear, not anymore.

    Crosshair finally had the chance to right his brother's wrong. The Jedi that ran in front of him would be dead by the end of the day.

    Once at the woods the child jumped into the trees. It would be harder to find him this way. Hopefully he could lose Crosshair and make it back to the town on the other side of the woods.

    The soldier didn't take his eyes of Caleb. He wanted him jump from tree to pink tree. The forest was beautiful; unfortunately neither had the time to really enjoy the rare beauty of nature.

    When Caleb's foot slipped on the branch everything felt over. He hit the ground hard and laid still for a moment. Crosshair ran over, ready to kill the little boy if he wasn't already gone. Scrambling the Jedi went for his lightsaber.

    Crosshair didn't shoot.  Something felt off so he waited. After all he had the time.

    The boy whimpered as he pulled himself against a tree. Tears allowed him to express the pain and terror that gathered in his heart and head. Was this it? With the arm in the least amount of pain Caleb lifted his lightsaber and ignited it in front of himself. "Why are you doing this?" he cried.

    "You deserve this" Crosshair hissed.

    "Deserve this?" Pain and betrayal laced Caleb's voice, "what did I do to deserve this?!"

    "Your acts of treason" The clone answered.

    "Treason? I didn't commit an act of treason!"

    "There is no need to lie. The Jedi betrayed the republic."

    "What? Well what did they do?" Now curiosity took over. If he was gonna die he should at least know why.

    Crosshair was quiet. What did they do? "It doesn't matter! You're a traitor and traitors need to be dealt with."

    "I'm not going to die for something I didn't do!" Caleb started attempting to stand, "I won't let my life be cut short! My mom saved me I won't let it be for nothing! There are still people who I need to help, places I need to go! I want to live to see peace! Take your shoot Crosshair! Take it!" The boy stood as steady as he could. The tree provided enough support for him to use both arms for his lightsaber.

    The pain the child was in was evident. Crosshair could see it written all over his face. Did he deserve this? 'Yes he's a traitor. No he's just a kid, he couldn't have known.' the sniper argued with himself. It made his head hurt. Throwing his rifle Crosshair walked over to Caleb. "Put that down for a minute."

    It took a moment but Caleb complied. Grabbing the little medical equipment he had the clone rapped what he could. Both were confused by the others actions. When Crosshair walked back over to his rifle the humming of a lightsaber greeted him. "Relax. Cut it up; make it a crutch." Crosshair loved that rifle but with everything he had done to this boy letting him use it was a small way to help.

    Caleb grabbed it and cut it to fit his body. Walking was still difficult but slightly less painful. "Thank you."

    Crosshair just stared at him before walking away. This kid didn't deserve to have to grow up in such a dangerous galaxy, he didn't deserve to lose everything he had. Now Crosshair was thinking. The empire hated people who think for themselves. Things started to fall in place and the man finally realized he was the bad guy. The empire was the separatist but worse. Worse in the way that they made people believe they were good.

    Crosshair wasn't sure what to do next. All he really knew is whatever awful things he may face, he deserved it.

Febuwhump Day 27: Survivor's Guilt

Fandom: Star Wars

Timeline: Post order 66 (Obi-wan of the character for the story)

  Obi-wan never thought he would walk through the temple halls again. It has been about three years since the Jedi purge. Going to the temple hadn't been an easy decision but one he needed to make. Bail Organa had reached out to the Jedi and asked him to go. As unfair asking was eventually Obi-wan agreed.

    The senator was looking for evidence of the chancellors wrongdoing and figured looking at the ruins of the temple would be worth checking out. However Bail would not be able to find his way around the temple. He needed a Jedi and thought of Kenobi.

    The Jedi temple had been beautiful. Obi-wan grew up within these walls. Now the halls we're empty. The place had started to look rundown.

    Memories of the people Kenobi met inside of the temple flooded his mind as he walked. There were his padawan friends Prie, Bolla, and Siri. Then his friends from the council. Fondly he thought of people such as Kit Fisto and Quinlan Vos.

    It almost felt as if he could see the memories of running down the hall with other padawans and of talking to his friends as he got older. The padawans avoided hitting anyone in the hall the same way he had with his friends.

    With these memories came an immense amount of guilt. Why had he survived when they all died? Bolla died in the war to Cade Bane and the other two childhood friends had been killed in the order. For his older friends most had been killed in the order. Why was he still standing when so many couldn't? What did he do to deserve living when the others didn't?

    Everyone Obi-wan had ever cared for was dead so why wasn't he? He survived both of Maul's attacks while Qui-gon and Satine didn't. He survived the order while everyone else succumbed to the sudden betrayal of the clones. Young children and older Jedi all feel the same so why hadn't he?

    From there Obi-wan thought of his time in the war. So many of his men had died so why had he survived? None of them deserved the cruel fates they had been given. The former general could have helped them more, could have saved them.

    Guilt slammed down onto the jedi. His knees gave in and he collapsed in the empty hall. Tears streamed down his face as he wondered why he survived. Out of everyone to survive why him? The man sat there on his knees sobbing until tears couldn't form anymore. Once his breathing was back under control he stood once more.

    The mission would be for nothing. No information could be found in the temple. He would return back to Tatooine and inform Bail of his failure to find anything. Bail apologized for sending him and the conversation ended.

    Laying in bed that night Obi-wan's head spiraled with thoughts. Not too long after laying down he would sit back up and shake his head. Shaking his head sometimes helped to get rid of any harmful or unwanted thoughts. 'There must be a reason I'm still alive. There must be.' he thought. Laying back down the Jedi curled into a ball. There has to be a reason he survived and they didn't, right?

Febuwhump Day 28: "You're Safe Now."

Fandom: Star Wars

Timeline: Post Order 66 (Character is Caleb Doom/Kanan Jarrus)

  Caleb ran. Gray and Styles followed. Depa's body lay on the ground behind him. Other members of his beloved battalion followed the two officers. The Bad Batch tried to help, except for Crosshair. Hunter yelled that they would take care of the child. "Taking down a padawan shouldn't be too hard!"

    The child ran for the trees. Not long after he would come to a cliff. Hunter talked to him, trying to reassure him that everything would be alright. Caleb took a step back and fell.

    Kanan woke up. His breathing sped up and tears dropped out of his eyes. Hera touched his shoulder and the man jumped. "Kanan? What's going on?" She asked. He leaned into her shaking.  "It's okay. You're safe now." She rubbed her hand gently over her lover's head and held him.

    Hera knew what this was about. Nightmares always got worse nearing the anniversary of the Jedi purge. Kanan had already explained what the nightmare had been about, assuming it was the same one he kept having. The man's reaction was always the same.

    "You're safe Kanan." After a moment his tears dried and breathing became less panicked. He pulled away from Hera briefly before resting his forehead against hers.

    "I know." He responded. "I know."

A Month of Whump Day 7: Angst

Fandom: Star Wars The Bad Batch

Summary: Echo's with the Domino squad and with the Bad Batch.

    Echo looked around the Marauder. Wrecker, Cutup, and Fives sat together. They got along well. The three loved jokes and making people smile. They were loveable idiots.

    Hunter told stories of the batch's missions to Droidbait. He seemed entertained. Every now and again Tech would add some unnecessary detail. Typically the detail was rather laughed about or there would be an awkward silence.

    Crosshair tolerated Hevy. Secretly Echo thought the two were friends rather Cross would say so or not. The nine would sit together in the mess hall on Kamino. They smiled and talked most of the time. Of course the regs hated all of them so it was something they could all bond over.

    Going back to the barracks the group finally split. Echo layied down on his bed and told the batch goodnight. He fell asleep happily.

    Then Hunter woke him up and reality hit him like a brick. There was no Tapioca city, there was no Domino squad, and Crosshair was probably in a similar situation he had been in. The Republic was dead and so we're the jedi. The three he had been close to were young and so was the senator.

The war had been over for over a year now. All he had left was the batch and the men he now fought beside to save the others.

    "What Hunter?" Echo asked.

    "It's time to go." Hunter walked away to wake up the others.

    Echo sat up and not long after they landed. The Five walked off the ship unsure what was next for them. All they knew was that Crosshair was inside. Echo knew he couldn't have his dream world but maybe he could get closer. Just maybe they could all be a happy family again.

Day 4: Les Misérables (Survivors Guilt)

Fandom: Star Wars (Post Order 66)

Summary: Obi-wan Kenobi deals with his guilt.

    It had been years since the end of the Clone War. Obi-wan still thought about it often. He wondered how he survived or why he kept persevering.

    When he was 25 he survived a battle with a sith. As a padawan he should have been the one laying in the ground. But instead Qui-gon, his only father figure, died.

    During the war he watched his friends slowly die off until he was the only survivor of his friend group from his earlier years. It didn't seem fair. He still stood even as his men fell beside him.

    Maul killed innocent people to get his attention. He killed Satine just to get to him. Her death had been his fault yet he walked away.

    The Jedi purge had killed most every Jedi. The clones, their most trusted ally had killed their Jedi generals and commanders. The younglings in the temple had been slaughtered like cattle. They were defenseless.

    Most of the council had fallen yet he was alive. Instead of fighting, Obi-wan walked away. He hid Luke from his father; a monster he had taken part in creating. Even if by accident, there had to be something he could have done for Anakin.

    Everyone around the man died. Their ghost haunted every corner of his cave. They whispered in his ears, asking him why he survived.

    Maybe he needed to go outside. So the man walked out of the cave. He let the hot sun touch his skin. Every part of his old life tormented him. The memories plagued his life. They destroyed him in the same way he domed the people around him.

    The sun only made him hotter. He had hoped that maybe it would melt some of the guilt that had frozen him, but it didn't. Luke was around five now.

    The man had fallen into a routine. Yet nothing he tried made him feel any better. Obi-wan didn't want to spend the rest of his life miserable, he didn't want to be consumed by the tormenting memories and guilt that he had been swallowed whole by.

    Maybe a walk could help?

    Walking around, Obi-wan couldn't escape his own mind. Padme should be raising her children. But Obi-wan had let Anakin kill her. He couldn't save her, maybe no one could.

    Dealing with others survivor guilt had been easy. Obi-wan knew how to comfort Cody when his brothers died, he could help with the feeling that he should have done more or that he should have been there or that it should have been him. The jedi could explain that nothing could have been done and that his brothers wouldn't want him to feel so guilty over something he couldn't control.

    The same has gone for Anakin and the rest of his men. Obi-wan had talked to Kit Fisto when he started to feel that way and he had helped to calm Depa Billaba with the death of her first battalion. He had helped to guide Anakin in helping Rex with the guilt of Umbara.

    It wasn't so easy to get rid of the guilt yourself. Nothing helped. Obi-wan started to run. Like running would do anything. You can't outrun yourself, it's impossible. Getting away from the cave, from where his lightsaber rested, seemed like a good idea. Maybe he just needed to get away from that faster?

    It was hard to run in the sand. Stopping, Obi-wan sat in the scorching hot sand. What was doing? This was where his life was supposed to go. He was supposed to be living happily with the people he'd lost.

    There was nothing left to do. So he walked home. Tears fell from his eyes as he walked. The guilt worsened with every step.

    Being the survivor was hard. It might have been one of the hardest things Obi-wan had ever done. But there was no way to change that. The fact was he wasn't god, he wasn't even close. All the people who died were going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. Obi-wan Kenobi was just a man. No man on his own can prevent death. No matter how hard they try they can only put it off.

    The entrance of the cave Obi-wan sighed. Facing himself, he walked in and sat down on his bed. Laying down, he let every feeling drag him down until he was lying there sobbing. Sometimes you have to let yourself feel it.

    Hours went by and he finally calmed down. The feelings would live with him forever. The memories would haunt him forever. There was nothing he could change and now he had to live with it. Why he survived, Obi-wan still didn't know, but there had to be a reason. There had to be. The Jedi just wished he knew what it was.

Codywan Week Day 4: Kidfic

Summary: After finding a child in the aftermath of order 66, Obi-wan takes her to tatooine with him. Then Cody finds them and they become a family.

The Temple had been so quiet. The gentle cries of a young child had startled Obi-wan. The child was the first and only survivor they found that day. She was a human girl. Her name was Marla and she was four.

With no other choice, Obi-wan took Luke and her to Tatooine with him. Luke couldn't stay with him. It was already a risky move taking two force sensitive children together.

It had been a few years since then. Obi-wan had reunited with his old partner Cody. After the order and inhibitor chip were explained to him, the Jedi started to allow the clone back in his life.

It started off small. The two would spend some time together when Obi-wan or Cody weren't working. Then Cody started to watch Marla when he could.

Soon the two were just in love as they had been. Maybe they never fell out of love. Marla started to realize Cody wasn't just her dad's good friend but his boyfriend. They seemed like they should be married or engaged the way they talked.

"Are you going to marry my dad?" She asked Cody one afternoon.

"I would like to." He confessed with a chuckle.

"You should. I like having you around." Marla was eight years old. She smiled as she walked around the kitchen of the tiny house Obi-wan had found for them.

"Okay." Smiling, Cody told her it was time for bed. Looking at him, Marla tried to escape her bedtime.

That morning Obi-wan came home from his job at the bar. He found his asleep daughter hugging his boyfriend. He smiled as he hunted a blanket for the two of them. It felt so right. After making sure they were comfortable, the man went to his own bed.

When he woke up, he found a glass of water by the bed with a note. 'Marla and I went to the market. We'll be back soon.' -love Cody.

Soon Marla would be calling Cody "Buir." The word meant father in Mando'a. The girl never truly knew how much that meant to Cody.

"Marla" Obi-wan called for her.

"Yeah?" The girl was nine now.

"Your Buir has a surprise for you."

"Oh! What is it!" She squealed excitedly.

"Go find him and figure it out. I believe he is out by the cave." Obi-wan wasn't nervous to send her on her own. The cave wasn't far and he knew Cody would not let anything happen to her. That girl was their life. How she became their daughter was unfortunate. Despite that they loved her with all of their hearts.

When she returned, she had a new stuffed animal and a big smile on her face. She ran to her room to add it to her collection.

"Thank you for getting her those."

"Of course." Holding hands, the two men looked at the lives they built for themselves. They looked at their daughter as she ran back into the room, telling them all about how she had to introduce each of her stuffed animals to the new one. She had already named the bear Neo and so far everyone liked him.

After telling them about the meeting, she grabbed some apple slices off of the counter. Then she ran back to her room to make sure everyone was still getting along.

As she turned the corner, Cody turned to face Obi-wan. "Look at our daughter."

"I know." They smiled at how kind she was, even to stuffed animals. "I love you."

Cody kissed his husband. "I love you too."

𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐔𝐩𝐨𝐧 𝐀 𝐃𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦

Captain Rex x Reader Every waking moment you had to yourself, you spent on trying to remember. To remember his touch. His voice, his warmth. His face and his eyes. But how could you when after so many years it's become nothing but a blur? And each time you're close, each time your mind drags back pieces of the puzzle together, you're interrupted. Word Count: 1,462 Warnings: Angst A/N: This idea came to me whilst listening to Once Upon A Dream from Sleeping Beauty and I couldn't help myself but vomit words onto screen, I hope whoever reads this enjoys this because I loved the idea TT

The city lights from below twinkled and burned brightly like the stars in the dark sky above. A miniscule smile rested atop your lips, a familiar gleam sparkling in your irises.

The cold autumn breeze flew past you, ruffling your unruly hair into an even more so, larger mess. 

A blue, old scarf a size too big hugged and entangled your shoulders, floating up and down with the cold. Your fingers twiddled with the loose threads, feeling the coarse material between the pads of your fingers. It was a gift from him. The man from your dreams. 

You used to love him. You used to miss him. You used to wait for him.

You used to walk with him,

Once upon a dream.

His hands used to be warm, his gaze so smitten. 

That look in his eyes, was so familiar a dream.

His voice used to be so soft, his touch so tender. 

Those visions of him, you knew they were seldom true.

His embrace endearing, his kisses slow and passionate, as though you were the most delicate flower he had ever the pleasure of finding. 

His love was your hope, like that of a sprouting seedling in a vast desert. His scent was your calm, like the sound of rain pattering against glass. His voice a lullaby to your dreams.

And now all you had left of him was the old, scruffy, pale blue scarf. 

And you loved it as much as you loved him and he loved you.

The faint scent of his cheap cologne still lingered. You had done your best to find the brand, but failed. How hard was it to find the same exact cheap cologne? Very, you had come to realise.  

The Empire destroyed everything. It took him away, it destroyed his memory.

"Y/n?" His voice asked, but it wasn't his voice. This one had a husky timbre to it, as though he hadn't felt anything but the familiar burn of a cigar against his lips in a long time. It wasn't the same.

"Hunter?" Your voice came out soft, quiet as though he had interrupted an intimate moment you were having.

He took a long moment to continue, his gaze sturdy and focused on your figure.

"Someone's here to see you." 

His eyes met yours as you shifted around, a brow raised questioningly. His shoulders stiffened, his breath catching in his throat. He knew what you were about to say.

"Tell them-"

"It's urgent," He interrupted, putting emphasis to his words, swallowing harshly as he felt his throat tighten, "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't," He paused again, this time his gaze dropping to the wet concrete beneath his feet, and suddenly he was all too aware of the loud pattering of the rain against his hair and the concrete, of the rough and short beats of your heart echoing in his ears, "Trust me." His gaze rose back to yours.

With a shake of your head, you pulled the scarf tighter around yourself. This was one of the few bits of time you had to yourself, that you could spend on thinking. Thinking of him. 

Amongst the many missions and bounties, your mind always failed to remember him. The faces of his brothers, the different tones and accents and timbres, they all mixed and matched together until it was all a blur. At first, you were happy to be surrounded by Hunter and the Batch. But now you could barely remember the face of the man from your dreams.

The door creaked shut behind you, the sound of rain muffled by the all-too loud music of the bar below. You hated it. You could never focus with it on.

The heavy scent of alcohol lingered in the air, like a poisonous fog ready to fill your lungs and taint your blood. Your chest felt stuffy every time you were forced to be in the vicinity of the awful stench. 

Hunter's heavy boots thudded against the concrete floor, his head hung low as he kept a fast. steady pace, refusing to give you enough opportunity to question him, enough chance to prod him where you needed to get your answers.

He wouldn't give in so easily even if you tried.

Not tonight.

Though it seemed you hadn't felt the need to ask. 

Not tonight.

Your mind was in a different plane, a different galaxy. A distant past.

The hallway seemed to narrow down the longer you walked, winding around corners and staircase openings like a never-ending labyrinth. You were slowly becoming sick of it. Why was this building so dauntingly tall? 

The walls seemed to be crumbling down and wailing for repair with each crack that extended down hallways, staircases and rooms. Grimaced faces were painted on the sickly orange walls, freshly patched spots grasping to hold the structure together as the building shook with the volume and vibrations of the music.

Hunter hated it too. But he could bare with this for a moment longer. For you.

His throat dried up as the door came into view, and his ears heard the way the pace of your heart picked up as he spoke, "They're behind that door."

His hands fell to his side, smearing the sticky sweat on his armoured thigh, and his steps slowed down, his own heart matching the pace of yours. You must have known by now, right?

"Who is it?" You asked as you came to an abrupt stop, just inches away from the door. You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. The two of you stared into each others eyes, silently communicating through the miniscule, atomic-like movements of your irises.

It wasn't hard to know what you were thinking. Nor what Hunter was.

Who is it? He imagined your voice to be soft, velvety like freshly cleaned cushions, the unsure tenderness of it warming his heart.

Go ahead and find out. You imagined his voice to be gravelly, like waves crashing against a sandy shore, the hum they left behind sending shivers down your spine.

With a soft sigh, you turned away from his towering frame.

Lifting a shaky hand, you turned the knob. 

The door creaked uncomfortably, like the wornout strings of an old violin. 

A gentle, dimmed light flooded the hallway, painting it a sickly shade of yellow. Was this a hotel or a pigsty?

You could almost taste the years worth of dust on the tip of your tongue.

The doorknob felt rough and weak under your touch, the dragged wood pressing against the pads of your fingers. 

With a heavier push, the door managed to pull open, screeching in protest until it came to a final stop. 

Your chest stopped heaving up and down as the air was caught in your throat. 

A sudden lightheadedness hit you, eyelashes blinking rapidly as you tried to get a tighter grasp on the doorknob. For a moment, you scrunched your eyes shut, and fought away the dizziness that clamped around your temple like a pair of metal tongs. 

When your eyes opened again, you felt a pair of arms get a hold your waist. 

Was someone hugging you?

Maybe, you thought and as you slowly looked down, you noticed a pair of armoured arms wrapped around you. Hunter's arms. 

Did you fall?

You couldn't feel your legs. 

As you looked up again, it all dawned on you.

The man from your dreams.

At first, you only saw the faded maroon poncho. It was overly large, and clearly didn't fit. It looked old, tattered as loose threads stuck out at odd angles.

And then you glanced down. White armour clung to his legs, embracing his feet and shins and thighs.

Your gaze wondered up, spotting the helmet seated atop a bed behind him. Blue streaks dancing down the expanse of the white coat of paint. It lingered there, pricking at your heart strings as though wanting them to snap one by one. 

It hurt.

Your chest was burning. 

Your throat tightened, the painful drags of a wail tugging at your voice chords.

The arms around your waist tightened, a familiar head of ashy, chestnut brown hair tickling at your skin.

Where were you again?

Your eyes fluttered, blinking erratically as you fought to look up. Your mind couldn't let you.

You couldn't- 

You couldn't rememeber his face.

A hand flew to your gaping mouth, covering the strangled whimper that erupted from deep within your chest, tearing at your throat as slowly, slowly you allowed your eyes to look up.

It hurt.

Did he always look so familiar? So.. Awfully perfect? So familiarly strange? 

His warm, honey gold irises were locked onto you, wide and unblinking and disbelieving. 

New wrinkles and aged lines dragged at his tanned skin, painting the picture of an abandoned, weary, scarred soldier, an abandoned and forgotten man. 

His hair was still that beautiful blonde, his sun-kissed skin and chapped lips still brought out that awfully familiar, but long forgotten feeling in the pits of your stomach.

It's him. 

It's-

"Rex?"

I made a jaded and anti-social Star Wars character with a dangerous job. The laws of Star Wars say I now have to make her responsible for a precocious and traumatized Force-sensitive child.

He does not have a name yet. All I know is that he is only thirteen but he is already taller than she is.

two birds on a wire

yeah so i had to get this idea out of my system even if i am not satisfied with the outcome. i suppose i will return to this some day when i improve lmao

Ashoka Tano meditating with lightsaber crystals on a rocky jungle planet. Takes place between the Ashoka novel and Rebels.

Leia, sweetie. That IS your grandfather. He’s just freaking out because he’s “not old enough.” Yes, he is just realizing it now.

And also his kid, your bio-dad, is alive.

Oh, Obi-Wan