Sw Prequels - Tumblr Posts - Page 6

Rex is NOT getting tossed off another high-rise anything. No way, no how, NO SIR!

Lil Maul doodle

The red looks so muted on telephone :(( sob

The tumblr monster stole my image resolution

Crazy ass ref

Pic of my tablet screen for comparison (i have no idea why the colors change that much in this case- they usually don't)

𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Captain Rex X F!Reader You aren't special. You don't have any form of magical connection to the force. So why then, are you constantly plagued by vision-like nightmares straight from the pits of Mustafar? Word Count: 4,632 Warnings: Minor swearing, minor cut to thumb, concussion, horror, mention of character death, feelings. A/N: This took so long to write when I have to spend my evenings stressing at work T_T but its here and its out, even tho no one asked for it lol. I'm quite happy with this one, it's a mix of a few different genres (?) and I'm happy with how it came out <33 hopefully whoever reads it will enjoy it just as much <33

Pure, blinding light ignited the hallways in a sterile white glow until you could almost taste the smell of disinfectant on the tip of your tongue. Distant whirring and humming of machinery filled the inside of the building, drowning out the raging storm outside. You had no kriffing clue where you were.

In a flash, the lights blacked out, one by one, until the hallway was swallowed in a momentary darkness. Your eyesight had a hard time adjusting, as the power promptly came back on, and once again you were blindsided.

Although the hallways were barren of any life, your gut churned. Anything and anyone could be lurking about, deep in the shadows where no artificial light could reach. Just like in the deep ocean, creatures lurked. They peered from below, anticipating the right moment where they could strike. Like an innocent, disoriented animal, maybe you were being carefully observed by some predator of a higher strength and intelligence. Maybe they were watching through a camera or watching you from behind the glass.

As thunder roared wildly, a loud creak travelled through the walls, all the lights in the room flickering out with a crackle.

You waited a moment, observing the ceiling expectantly. A small spark crackled from one lamp. But nothing. The power was dead.

Your gaze moved to watch the glass, the waves crashing against it with a vile ferocity, blanketing the facility you found yourself in, in further, deeper darkness. Droplets of water hung onto the glass, racing downwards with the pull of gravity, similarly to bleeding paint on a canvas.

Your body was stuck in a state of distress, and you wondered how you even got to this place. The last thing you remembered was laying in your cozy, warm, queen-sized bed, enjoying the absurdity of some comedy-based holofilm.

The last thing you expected was to find yourself standing in an unknown, bleach-scented, derelict, straight-out-of-a-horror hallway.

As the waves continued to claw at the windows, a shiver ran down your spine. A sudden coldness enveloped you, icy shadows embracing your body.

Anything could be lurking within the darkness, waiting, inching closer, anticipating.

As your vision adjusted to the darkness, you noticed something.

Your reflection moved, but you didn’t.

You blinked furiously, leaning forward and hoping that if you squinted hard enough, your eyesight would adapt to the darkness faster. Your arms wrapped around yourself, providing some warmth amidst the freezing air of the facility.

You could almost feel frost settling in your lungs.

For a split second, you wondered if this is what it felt like. If sheer cold and anxiety embraced one moments before death.

Something moved. Again.

A flash of clarity struck through you. This had to be a really, really shitty dream, you realised.

There was no possible explanation other than this being a nightmare. An overly, awfully vivid nightmare.

But there was a dull ache crackling in your fingertips, and it settled deep within your knuckles and bones as you tightened your grip on your arms, on something.

Something cold. Something hard. Something almost… Metallic.

Your subconscious seemed to clock the nature of the object before your conscious mind could.

You grazed your thumb across the object, feeling for that familiar ridge. You counted six, perfectly equal elevations. Your thumb trailed higher, feeling for the gradual thinning out of the instrument. Until the pain registered in your mind, and a warm sensation enveloped the delicate pad of your thumb in a pooling droplet of blood.

A… Scalpel.

Bile teased at your throat, burning and scratching its’ way up, yearning to see the surface. You quickly averted your gaze, the tool dropping to the floor with a hollow clank.

This felt too real to just be another shitty nightmare.

As you glanced into the window again, you caught a glimpse of a shift in the shadows. It was slight, so subtle you were convinced it was just your imagination playing up again.

Suddenly, you felt movement.

At first, it felt like a shiver on a cool spring morning. Almost as though it was nothing to fret over, something you could insist would pass. But then you felt the unmistakable sting of sharp claws digging into your waist, and the panic settled in. You weren’t alone.

Foreign limbs strangled around your body, suppressing your chortled scream with a hand, pulling you deep into the shadows of the facility. Your vision was slowly blocked, until you could only see a fine line ahead of you.

Your hands clawed at the thin air before you, begging to latch to any foreign surface that could save you from the darkness, and pull you back into the light.

Thunder roared and lightning cracked, igniting the room in a blinding white glow for a split moment, your screams suppressed as your eyes landed on the reflection in the glass.

Your arms fell limply to your sides, the veins in your sclera’s a stressed, bulging red.

A body.

Your eyes fluttered open in a hurry. Your lips were gaping in a silent scream, beads of sweat trickling down the side of your temple. Blood pulsed loudly in your head, almost hurting as you brushed the sweat away.

An involuntary, guttural groan escaped your chest as you crawled backwards in your bed, your hand frantically searching behind you for your bedside light as your gaze never strayed from the space before you.

Whatever that thing was, it was following you. It could be anywhere. It could be hiding in plain sight, and you wouldn’t know it until the lights were on-

The familiar click and the spread of a warm amber glow illuminating your room eased your senses, your fingers lingering on the switch. It took a moment to register what just happened.

You were safe. There was no creature. There was no body.

You took in a deep, shaky breath and hid your face away into the safety of your palms.

It was that dream, again.

Ever since you left med school on Coruscant, your mind has been plagued by these nightmares. Each time they increased in their intensity, in their detail, in their vividness.

Your heart rattled against your ribcage, and your mind raced at thousand miles per hour.

What the fuck…?

This couldn’t be normal, you thought as you slowly settled, your body drenched in cold sweat. Those weren’t just silly images conjured up by your mind.

There was something else at play.

You shook your head as you leaned back against the headboard, looking down at your palms. Shadows hung over them, deepening the scars and creases.

Those nightmares… They meant something.

You weren’t quite sure what they meant, yet, but you were determined.

You’d find out, someday.

But for now, you needed to catch some Z’s, after all, tomorrow was your first assignment.

Blaster fire and pained howls of men coddled your brain like a swarm of wasps.

You couldn’t catch a break. It was constant analysing, bandaging and praying as one soldier after the other were hit with plasma bullets, their agonised screams and cracking of bones and barely contained groans playing in a loop like a broken record.

Heat from explosions blew charred smoke in your face, drenching your skin in more sweat with each passing second. Your hands were painted with ash and dried dirt. No amount of disinfectant was adequate enough to sanitise at a faster rate than the one of injured men coming to you.

You were more of a surgeon than a field medic, but a shortage of medical staff in an already politically unstable Republic was not something you could fight against. You had no choice.

Sure, the GAR could afford to train their own medical personnel, or even better, invest in droids, but the hostility between its soldiers and the mech wasn’t something that could be easily treated.

Either way, you were a surgeon stuck amidst a raging invasion and piling injuries and corpses.

“What’s your name soldier?” You asked as you scanned him over, brows furrowed, lips narrowed into a tight line. At this rate you were simply following a script, offering a false sense of comfort to the injured.

“R- Rex. The name’s Rex.” He coughed out, groaning as you gripped his shoulder. Or well, his pauldron. The metal beneath had been grazed with a bullet, cracking under the initial impact.

“Rex?” You mused, testing it out before removing his armour to quickly assess his shoulder for any injuries. Your fingers quickly found your scissors and got to work in cutting some of the black undershirt he wore. “That’s a pretty name, for a pretty soldier.” You joked, sending him a quick wink and your prettiest smile.

You gave him no chance to reply as you moved the piece of fabric, your eyes quickly analysing the extent of the damage.

The armour did absorb most of the impact, though it didn’t prevent him from coming out completely unscathed. There was visible swelling, his otherwise tan skin becoming discoloured where most of the impact had been taken, and tiny, raging, red vessels were swimming aggressively in the bruises. You had seen similar injuries before. This would be a piece of cake.

Something felt off, though.

Something about his demeanour. You weren’t sure what specifically, just yet, but he was brimming with confidence, with experience.

“This’ll need to be checked over later, but a bacta patch will do just fine.” You slapped a patch over the bruising, before placing his armour back into place. “See me after the battle, soldier.”

A smirk tugged at his lips as he thanked you, checking his armour was in place.

“That’s Captain for you, doctor.” He threw over his shoulder as he placed his helmet on, his voice quickly turning robotic under the modulator.

Recognition flashed in your eyes as you scanned him over, spotting the navy blue kama, the markings on his helmet, the pauldron that sat proudly atop his shoulder. He was the Captain Rex. Right hand of your new General, Anakin Skywalker. How could you not have realised the moment he spoke his name?

“Kriff.” You hissed out as another explosion erupted, shielding your face. The captain glanced back at you, and without missing a step he hauled you up.

“Come with me. It’s not safe out here.”

The two of you ran, narrowly dodging bullets as Rex manhandled your body out of the way, expertly aiming for the droids’ weak spots. He had done this a thousand times and would do it a thousand times more.

The doorway was just a couple more metres, the clear glass reflecting the colour of plasma bolts and fires. But as always, your luck seemed to run out at unexpected moments, as a droideka pulled up in front of the two of you. Rex pushed you behind him, shielding you away from the mech. It wasted no time in raising its’ shield, had its guns drawn before you could even blink. But Rex wasn’t the Captain of the 501st for no reason.

The droid was blown up almost in slow-motion. From the rolling of the grenade to its downward look as it pierced through the shield. A yelp left your lips as Rex turned, bringing you into a protective embrace as the two of you were flung backwards.

Air escaped your lungs as if you were a deflated balloon, your body feeling hollow as you struggled to breathe. Unexpectedly, the air returned, and you found yourself gasping.

Intense pain bloomed in the back of your head, spreading through your body like a shockwave. Your eyes felt as though they were about to pop out, a heavy ache resting in your skull.

Something was ringing in your ears. All sounds were muffled as you slowly lifted your head. The Captain’s figure was blurry as he leaned over you, his helmet moving slowly, animatedly, his voice drowned.

Were you underwater?

His gloved hand lifted to your cheek, giving it two light taps.

And then, everything rushed in all at once. The sound of blaster fire, the screams, the metallic stomping of droids, the Captain’s voice.

“Talk to me, doc. We gotta get going if we don’t wanna get blasted.” He said quickly, taking your wincing as a response as he hoisted you up, draping your arm over his shoulder. His touch was warm and firm, it enveloped you like a warm blanket.

Confusion overtook you as Rex placed you down against a wall before he took his helmet off.

Your vision was blurred, spinning. But his voice acted as your guide through the blurriness.

“Doc, how many fingers am I holding up?” He asked, raising his hand up.

Squinting, you looked him over. The explosions outside seemed to quieten down as you looked from his hand up to his eyes. In your hazed state, you were stunned to silence. You never knew clones had such beautiful eyes.

They brought a sense of calm amongst the raging battle around you. You leaned closer, so close you could feel his breath fanning over the tip of your nose. Something sparkled in his eyes; and it drew you in like a bee to honey.

His irises were a perfect mirage of the golden dunes of Tattooine, coated in the amber glow of the setting suns.

His voice, coarse like sands of arid deserts, soothed your mind back to the present, back to his question.

“T- Two?” You asked hazily, rubbing your forehead. The confusion was slowly easing, only to be replaced by a stinging sensation. A hiss escaped through your teeth as you touched the spot, retreating your hand to observe your bloodied fingers.

“S- Stitches…”

“What was that?” Rex asked, rummaging through your backpack.

“S- Stitches… I’ll need stitches.” You huffed out, letting him handle you however he pleased. He was gentle as he pressed a cloth against the back of your head, his breath fanning over the tip of your nose.

“Stitches… That’s catchy. And yeah, you’re right.” He said as he retracted the cloth, the softness that accompanied it gone too. You heard a soft thud before Rex’s hands were on you again. He carefully wrapped a gauze around your head, his fingers careful not to cause more discomfort.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed the bloodied cloth laying limply on the floor. It was stained a crimson red, laying abandoned by your side. Surely the bleeding wasn’t that bad.

He ripped the ends of the gauze, tying them into a knot. It sat tight against your head, and you fought the itchiness in your fingers to rip it off. You weren’t usually one to be injured. Though you had to admit, the added gentle pressure kept you grounded.

“We need to go and get backup. C’mon, this way, Stitches.”

You concluded that the hallways were endless. Rex had been hauling your body for the duration of the journey, narrowly avoiding colliding into another clone. A Commander. After that, time became a blur yet again.

It didn’t help that you were feeling tired, sleepy, nauseous.

The three of you headed down the hallways, searching for any other lingering troopers. The sound of distant conversation caught your attention, your head turning in the direction it came from.

“You hear that, Rex?” Commander Cody asked, his helmet turning to face Rex’s.

“I hear that, Cody. We’ve got backup.” He proudly said, exchanging quick glances with him.

As the three of you rounded the corner, you were able to pick up on their conversation. They were discussing their next course of action, it seemed.

“What are we going to do?”

“We fight.” Rex replied as you came into view, his hands reaching to take his helmet off, your vision swayed though a steady hand quickly supported you. As the rest began talking, Rex propped your body against a wall, and you couldn’t help but glance over the other 501st members.

One of them, Fives, you heard his name earlier, had a goatee and a tattoo. He seemed fiery and so damn sure of himself – not in an arrogant way, no – as he spoke encouraging words to the young cadets. The other one, Echo, seemed shyer and more reserved, and was constantly glancing up at Fives. He looked like any other normal Reg. Freshly shaven, distinct regular haircut, no identifying facial marks like scars or tattoos.

Something twisted at your gut with a molten fist. He was so familiar, and yet you couldn’t understand why. The answer was settled just on the tip of your tongue, scratching at your brain like an unreachable itch.

The pain in your head had shrunk into a dull ache and blurry vision whenever you attempted to walk on your own, so resting and letting the actual soldiers do the rest was not up for discussion on your part.

With a boosted morale, the clone, 99, began talking about an armoury. Rex used that moment to kneel beside you. His gloved hand felt warm on your shoulder, his grip tight and comforting.

“I’ll be back for you in a sec, Stitches. Don’t close your eyes, understood?”

“Yessir.” You muttered in response, attempting a mock salute. He rolled his eyes at you before departing, his steps hurried and glances anxious as he disappeared behind a corner.

The walls were painted a filtered red, doing little to quench your own anxieties. Were you going to get out of here? Would Rex and the others come through? You had very little experience with a gun, nethertheless facing a whole group of bloodthirsty, unfeeling droids. You reached for the strap of your bag, fiddling with the bumpy material. A soft hand on your shoulder shook you from your thoughts.

“You’re a new face around here, what’s your name?” The clone asked, Echo, as he eyed the gauze wrapped tightly around your head. You eyed him up and down, the itch returning as you thought over your response.

After a moment, you let up, rubbing the strap between your fingers.

“I’m the new medic for the 501st.” Your reply was short and curt as you pulled the bag atop your lap, unzipping it.

“New medic? That’s perfect. But, what’s wrong with your head?” He asked as he watched you pull out a bacta patch. It probably wasn’t a good idea to put the substance onto your hair, but you had no other choice. Not if you wanted to avoid having to be stitched up.

Recognition flashed in Echo’s eyes as he watched you unwrap the gauze. His gaze followed it as you let it drop to the ground. It was bloodied, dirty with sweat and gunpowder and hair sticking to it in a weird mixture of odd substances.

“A concussion?” He asked, offering his palm to you. “Let me help.” He said, and you reluctantly dropped the unopened patch into his hand. You were hoping he’d know what he was doing as he gently moved your head away from the wall.

His fingers were delicate, practiced, as he moved some hair away. He remained quiet as he opened the patch and applied it to your injury, but a soft huff bubbled in his chest at your relieved sigh. The cool liquid was amazing, to put it simply. It latched to your scalp, tiny cyan tendrils reaching out for your skin. A quiet curse left your lips, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you let yourself lean against the cool metal of his armour.

“Thank you.” You muttered against him, relief blooming in your chest. Your heart swelled as he caressed your hair tenderly.

Rex’s voice cut through the barracks as he, Cody and 99 returned, essentially interrupting your strange, little moment with Echo.

You lifted your head, resting your chin on Echo’s shoulder as you looked the three of them over.

They had stacks of guns in their arms, the cadets cheered as they crowded the three of them. You quirked a brow at Rex, noticing his quizzical expression as he looked you and Echo over. What you failed to notice was the stunned look and deep blush adorning Echo’s face.

“Ready up, boys,” Rex spoke, handing the last gun to Fives, “This might be a tough one.” His sight fell upon you again, his stare stern and yet tender as he remained focused on you, and you only.

“Doctor?”

Your body stuttered at the sound of a voice, your shaky hands almost dropping your datapad. “Captain?” Your voice was laced with confusion as you looked up. There he was, shoulders relaxed, gaze tender as it locked onto some feature of yours. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d like a follow-up on my shoulder, Doctor.” He replied almost instantly. He’d only ever gone to Kix for medical examinations, but unfortunately – not - his usual go-to medic was suspiciously nowhere to be found.

“You can look at me, y’know.” Your voice softened as you set your datapad down. Guilt began to tug at your heart as his gaze met yours. The last time the two of you were in a room together, you had made a grisly confirmation of 99’s death. He had not only protected the others, but he even risked his life to save yours. He hadn’t even known you for more than a couple of minutes at most. He was a soldier, through and through, no matter what cruelties life and Kaminoans had thrown at him.

“Doc?”

Your attention snapped back, your body taking in an involuntary breath. Rex’s eyebrows were furrowed, a small wrinkle formed between them as he eyed you.

“C’mon, let’s see what’s underneath all that armour.” You breathed out, hoping to distract him. You didn’t need the Captain to study you under a microscope.  

Rex nodded, remaining quiet. He began to carefully remove his armour, one by one, his touch careful, practiced. He had done this a thousand times, and he would do it a thousand times more.

You distracted yourself by reaching for a medical cart. His armour would not be going on the floor, nor the bed. As you returned to his side, cart in hand, his stiff figure had you quirking a brow. His hands were hesitant to lift his shirt, itching at the hem.

Rex wasn’t a shy man by any means, he had been friendly with many fine women. So why did his heart stutter at the thought of being undressed around you?

“I’ll need to watch to assess for any impairment.” Your voice startled him. His throat grew dry, his fingers restless. He wasn’t expecting you to be so forward. This is just a normal checkup, Rex, he scolded himself internally.

With a quiet nod, his arms crossed over and tugged at the hem of his shirt. He lifted it, hissing a little as his shoulders shrunk in. It was nothing to worry about, you noted, as that was where the bruising was.

However, you supressed a choked gasp. The sight of his naked chest had your well-practiced professionalism struggling. Tan, sun-kissed skin, taught muscle and broad shoulders, numerous scars littered across the expanse of his chest, stomach and waist. A few freckles here and there.

Something bloomed in his chest, something warm, and a smirk tugged at his lips, his chest almost puffing up with pride as you stood motionless for a few seconds. His hands were resting on his lap, and you wondered for a moment whether the flex of his biceps was forced or natural in this position.

“Doctor?” His voice was raw, guttural as he leaned his head to the side. That was when you finally averted your gaze, settling on looking at his shoulder instead. The bruise was still there, discoloured skin and blood vessels swimming around in patches. It must have hurt like a bitch.

“Let me get a patch for that.” You said quickly, moving to rummage through a drawer on the side of the bed. They contained all sorts of supplies and materials, in case of emergencies. “We’ll check for your range of motion – in case the damage is deeper than just surface level.” You mused as you placed the bacta patch and gauze beside him.

You moved around him, poking at different muscle as you inspected him. So far so good, no abnormalities or bumps.

“Try and raise your arms above your head,” You requested, observing as he does so with little difficulty, “And now stretch them behind your back.” You continued, placing your palms on both of his shoulders, applying gentle pressure.

No swelling, no stiffness, no difficulty in movement.

“Now place your arms by your sides, then slowly lift and extend them until they’re above your head.” You requested, showcasing an example with your own arm. Starting from your hip, you kept it straight before slowly lifting it to the side, from your hip to your head. Rex followed your instructions, and you found yourself quickly dismissing any concerns about the damage to his shoulder.

“Your shoulder seems to be doing just fine, Captain,” You said as you stepped away, typing away on your datapad, “Try not to apply pressure onto the bacta patch, or else it might pop. Come back in two hours and I’ll take it off for you.” Your fingers were careful as you placed the bacta on, softly smoothing it over as you ensured it stuck.

You reached for the gauze, your arm brushing against his.

“Sorry.” You muttered, facing him.

Your breath hitched, realisation striking you like lightning.

His face was just inches away. His breath fanned over your nose, his warmth reaching out to you.

You could count every freckle, every scar, every imperfection across his features. Thousands of tiny stars and speckles flickered across his face, the light above you serving as his little sun, casting shadows to dance over his features.

And just like a shooting star, you disappeared from his orbit in the blink of an eye.

His gaze remained trained on you, observing every little movement and twitch. He was studying you again, like bacteria under a microscope. A blush fought its way to your face, painting your cheeks a shade darker.

You moved away from Rex wordlessly, keeping your attention fixated on wrapping the gauze over his shoulder.

As you stepped back, Rex uttered a small thank you, easing back into his shirt.

The two of you remained silent, you watching him put his armour on, and him fighting to keep the poker on his face. His heart was beating fast, hard against his ribcage and he worried you could hear it in the silent confines of the medbay.

You continued watching, quietly, even as he uttered another ‘thank you’ and headed for the exit.

Your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Captain?”

“Doctor?” He asked, his body half facing you.

You swallowed, taking a sudden, deep breath.

“Thank you… For saving my life back there. I owe you.” You said, offering a small, rigid smile.

He shook his head at you, mirroring your smile. Much softer, though.

“I guess you do, Stitches. I’ll see you around.” He said, before stepping outside. The doors closed behind him with a woosh, and you should have felt relief. You could breathe again. But your chest ached. He saved your life, he took care of you, so why did you feel so tense in his presence? So nervous?

Stop being silly, you thought as you made your way over to your desk, the screen of your holopad lighting up. You did your best to focus on the reports at hand, and yet you couldn’t fight off the giddy smile that ghosted over your face, or the nervous, unsteady racing of your heart.

Or the recurring memory of his lips so close to yours.

Tags: @flamingbisexual08

This has been my complaint about Star Wars episode 3 for decades. How does a senator carry twins to full term without her doctors realizing there are more than one kid in there?

To be fair:

The destruction of the Jedi Order was less a genocide and more of a religious conflict that the Jedi lost. The Jedi Order is a sect of the collective religious culture of 'Force Users,' and their destruction cannot really be considered genocide as the cultural group of 'Force Users' still exists albeit heavily restricted and controlled by the Sith during the Empire Era.

Secondly:

The entire point of the Prequel trilogy was that the Jedi contributed to their destruction. Their wilful ignorance, isolation, and insulation from the corruption of the Republic they insisted on protecting, to the point the Jedi Council, for example, caused a schism in the Order because they insisted that Jedi Masters act as Generals for the Clone Army regardless of the individual Jedi Master's wishes, led the Jedi to become entirely isolated and perhaps hated by the Republic they had sworn to protect.

Order 66 and the sacking of the Temple were executed to the surprise of the Jedi, and no Jedi was present when Sidious became Emperor of the Galaxy. No one, save for a few Senators like Organa, protected the Jedi when they fell, and during the Rebellion Era, even Organa himself did not approach the surviving Jedi to aid in the fight against the Empire. Somehow, the Jedi even managed to alienate their chosen one and drove him to the dark side, allowing Sidious to turn the Jedi's greatest weapon against themselves.

The Jedi bubbled themselves up and the Council refused to face the problems that faced their beloved Republic until it is too late. Palpatine exploited their ignorance, but it was the Jedi who were ignorant themselves in the first place. That was the lesson of the Prequel Trilogy, speak out and speak loud so that the people are aware and always ready to fight against corruption and oppression.

I've seen a lot of posts on my feed lately that have, in some way shape or form, said "the story of the Jedi is tragic cause the Jedi caused their own genocide" followed by a list of just...stuff that's either untrue or the other option would've been worse in that game of roulette that Palpatine set up specifically to force the Jedi to make questionable decisions and wear them down with the weight of them. (Untagged posts btw, if you're gonna post shit along these lines please for the love of fuck tag it "Jedi critical," there are tags for a reason)

So I'm here to outline why that's complete and utter bullshit in one easy, simple to understand, post! No matter what the Jedi did, or what you think they did, they did not cause their own genocide. The fault of their genocide is solely on those who chose to commit said genocide of their people and culture.

Ignoring the fact that Palpatine's entire plan, the whole point of everything that we see in the Prequels, was to kill off all of the Jedi and erase their culture--so he was gonna figure out some way to do it, with or without Anakin/the clones/Dooku/etc.

You cannot make someone commit genocide against you.

That is the stupidest argument ever.

Committing genocide is a choice, one that you actively have to make over and over again--which we see Anakin do, even long after all (or all except a measly few survivors, most of which were literal children in the Prequel-era and couldn't have possibly done anything to piss Anakin off) of the Prequel-era Jedi--aka the ones that people say "brought this on themselves"--were dead!

The Jedi Order as a whole could've been the shittiest, most repressed group of arrogant assholes the galaxy had ever seen. They could've called Anakin a whiny bitch to his face and told him that Dooku should've gone for his head instead of his arm. They could've danced on his mother's grave and had tea parties with the Tuskens.

And guess what?

They still could not have made Anakin and Palpatine commit genocide against them. It was their choice, and their choice alone.

The only people that had no choice in committing that genocide were the clones and guess who took that choice away from them? Because it certainly wasn't the fucking Jedi!

Which is hilarious because most of these posts I've seen have said something along the lines of "the Jedi used the clones as slaves," ignoring the fact that--even if that were true (and it's not)--Anakin and Palpatine used them as slaves too!

And it was so much worse when they did it because, not only were they not given a choice, they were fucking mind-controlled in order to commit genocide against their will! So they didn't even get the choice to refuse and face the consequences of that--which is an option for them during the Clone Wars, albeit a shitty one.

So no, the Jedi did not bring anything upon themselves.

Start holding Anakin responsible for his own shitty decisions, and start tagging your damn anti-Jedi and Jedi critical posts properly!

A proper analysis of the Sith Code

A true Sith recognizes that the Force is a power fueled by one's emotions and passions. There is always passion, and to ignore passion by claiming to have attained an aloof 'peace' is a lie. Otherwise, the Jedi would not fight so hard to protect the Republic if they felt no passion for the Republic's ideals.

A true Sith then recognizes that he can't indulge in his passion but must instead work THROUGH the false promise of power provided by the rush of his emotions to gain strength. A true Sith must harness and direct his passion toward learning and growing stronger in the force.

Once a true Sith gains strength he must use his strength to gain power through his faithful followers, cowed rivals, and impressed allies. People respect strength, and that respect makes people amenable to the Sith's will, when people act for the Sith that becomes the Sith's power.

Through power, a true Sith gains victory because his chains are broken, and nothing can stop the Sith from achieving his goals.

The force thus sets a true Sith free.

I agree, but I think for storytelling purposes, it was meant to be that way. It was meant to show the audience that the republic was failing and becoming corrupt, which lead to its demise.

Everything from Palpatine’s extended term limit, corrupt senators, the creation and use of the clone army, countless war crimes, the death of innocent civilians and creatures, and the Jedi order losing their way and choosing to fight in the Clone War was to help aid this narrative.

It was genius on Palpatine’s part. When you think about it, Pong Krell, Maul, the Zygerrian Queen, Barriss Offee, Trace and Rafa, Ventress, Slick, and Fives were absolutely right about the Republic’s corruptness and it’s imminent downfall. The Republic was evil, and that’s why it became the Empire. The Empire had to rise from something, and this was what George Lucas chose.

I am so frustrated rn with the people that try and make it seem like Jedi loved the clones, with maybe the exception of Plo, and maybe Shaak. The Jedi cared about the WAR, NOT their MEN. Men that trusted them, had feelings, emotions. Men that, like slick, even ended up betraying the order because hey! This life is fucked and why should we be slaves??? They may be programmed and a clone of another man, but that doesn't make them less of a person! Less of a breathing creature that deserves to make their own decisions.

You can say what you want, but they were enslaved. You saw from jedi as bad as Pong Krell, to as mild as Yoda, Anakin, or even Obi-Wan that they didn't care. Ping-Pong-Dong turned them against each other, ignoring the mission on umbara just to destroy the clones.

Anakin, as @nibeul mentioned in an absolute stellar post, fucking let a whole group of men die for a fucking R2 unit. Who tf does that? I get it, he's had R2 forever, but he killed those men! And people still stand up for him.

Obi-Wan and Yoda?? Fucking JOKES. They didn't even try to spare them. They slaughtered those men with zero remorse even if they couldn't control themselves! They were in a trance, they had a fucking chip for gods sake! How are they going to fight that? I know some could, like Rex, but not all can.

Plo was the only one that actually just let it all go .down and happen, sparing his men, his bros, even if they were in "the wrong." (Because is there really a right and a wrong in this war?? both sides suck ass in their own ways.) He was said to be the best pilot ever, right below anakin even, I think. And he didn't even attempt to fly off or fight back. He didn't want to be the reason his men died, blood on his hands. Or at least that’s how I see it.

I know this is random but FUCK, Jedi puss me off. They aren't right at all, the clones deserved better tbfh. Like honestly, if it weren't for the fact slick got some of his brothers killed, I wouldn't have blamed the guy. I would have tried to leave the order and free my brothers if I was in that situation. I would have left, because you know what, with all those men you could overthrow them. Get new fucking soldiers, not men that don't even know what happiness outside of the war is.

Had Padmé been 20-30 years older than anakin instead of 2-3 it wouldve fixed a significant portion of the franchise, including padmé's own chracterization

Oof. He's so beautiful.

My 8-year-old daughter and I celebrated Star Wars Day by watching The Phantom Menace. That was fun on its own, but even better when she called padawans "starter Jedi," and now that's what I will call them, too.

And May The Force 

✨🌙   𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐋𝐎𝐆 ->  @404ama

Hello there, I just stumbled onto your page and I was wondering if I could request a Darth Maul x female reader with angst and fluff? Like reader is with the jedi order, but she isn't exactly liked because she has darkness in her but Maul likes her.....or if you have an original plot, go for it, I won't complain.

P.S.-I may come back and request something with Iceman or something from Harry Potter!

Please take me away - Darth Maul x Female!Human!Jedi reader

Hello! Thank you for the request! This idea is perfect for me to write my first Darth Maul Fic! 😫 I’ve always wanted to but never had the courage to do so! Please send any other requests you would like I would love that!

I also loved how you used blue for your writing! It made me read the request in the narrator from the Clone Wars show 😂

I hope you like it!

❤️🖤❤️🖤

SUMMARY: see request above!

WARNINGS: Reader is mistreated, reader is isolated, name calling, general angst, murder, swearing, stalking undertones, reader crying, insomnia, protective Darth Maul, age gap, nicknames, soft Darth maul, general fluff, running away, Jedi becomes Sith, Kyber crystal bleeding ritual. (TW) Unedited!

The sun was covered by clouds, seeping through the main Padawan training room. A lightsaber defense class was currently in session, with a head count of 12 15-16 year old Padawans. Along with a Master Jedi knight, who was teaching them a new range of skills and techniques.

There was a pair, consisting of a 15 year old boy and an equal aged girl. Her name was (y/n). She was known to be “slightly ahead” for her age. She found it easy to learn new skills. Almost like it was already written in her code.

The lesson started with meditation, to get everyone into the right head space. Moving onto an extensive warm up of the body, to ensure a full range of motion. Then the training began!

Each pair went one at a time, so their Master could watch them clearly without distractions. The majority of the pairs had their turn before (y/n) and her partner got to have theirs.

They got into position, ready to spar. The pair waited in idle anticipation for their Master to give the sign to start. Once hearing a “GO!” Blue crashed against green. The light crackles of contact, the hum of movement, and the children’s focused grunts were the only thing to be heard. The boy pushed (y/n) against the wall with the force, causing her to get frustrated as she knew she was years ahead of him. The sparing match went on, it looked like watching a dance routine.

The final straw for the young woman was the boys foot making contact with her chest, and shoving her to the ground. With a loud scream she used the force to pull herself up and started violently thrashing her saber against his, leaving him little to no time to strategies. She let out grunts and screams. “I HAVE HAD IT WITH YOU”, the words flew from her mouth and echoed in the large room.

The boy had slipped and fell hard on the ground. He was frightened to say the least, his saber was the only thing protecting him from being sliced apart. He called out to their master “HELP ME! SHE IS GOING TO KILL ME!”. With that their Master used the force to retract the girls lightsaber, which lead her to look at him with furious eyes. Before she could make another sound, she was put to sleep.

———

Since that day you never got along with anyone. Some people were wary of you and always tried to avoid you, while others were cruel to you. But one thing both groups had in common, was calling you horrible names. You were bounced around to different Masters, some just gave orders and ignored, some would insult you and make your life a living hell. You suffered in more ways than one. You were always stressed, never sleeping well, constantly being tired leading to you being an anxious woman. The topic of being kicked out was a reoccurring conversation, which lead to anxiety attacks. You could never catch a break mentally.

Walking through the halls of the order felt like being an easy target. You constantly heard whispers and people would shout at you. “Freak”, “Sith spy”, “future murderer”, “red eyes”, “piece of shit”, “waste of space”, “I bet your parents were bad people, and wanted nothing to do with a child like you!” And so much more.

Their were many missions were you would be called a few names, and insults. But one mission stuck out from the rest. You were told to stay back after the night watch debrief, which you knew wasn’t to praise you on your efforts.

You were 18 at the time, and 2 years from knighthood. The leading Jedi knight who gave the debrief, got right up into your face and verbal attacked you. The sun was setting behind him, making the hood he was wearing cast a shadow over his eyes. He was intimidating both in general and in this moment.

“(Y/n), you worthless waste of resources. If you make even one mistake or fault…I will get you kicked out. Am I fucking understood?” He gritted out with his teeth. You nodded with a “yes Master”, he shoved your shoulder and walked off. Your whole body shrunk into itself as you whispered “don’t cry” repeatedly.

———

As you were gathering yourself, a certain Dathomirian Zabrak was watching on. He was there to seek out information on the Jedi. Amber eyes were fixated upon their first glance at you, and his body froze. Seeing your Master lash out at you stopped him in his tracks. He heard what he needed to, ready to move on when he heard your name being called. The sound alone stopped him. When the senior Jedi threatened you, his body tensed. He didn’t know why, but it was like a hidden instinct had kicked in.

He saw you take a deep breath, ground yourself and walk off to your night watch route. You walked around the south west side of the building, starting to scope out the terrain. His body followed yours like a curious cat, walking slowly and steadily. His eyes scan over your body, learning every inch, while his fingers itched for the blood of the master who treated you like shit.

His mind was all over the place, and he struggled to make sense of it. Why was he following this young woman, while he was trying to get a job done. You felt his strong force signature, and ignited your blue saber. Your eyes darting in different directions, the man skilled in force distribution. Your body was on fire with a concoction of anticipation and adrenaline, using all the energy you could on finding the being who was a potential threat to the order.

After 10 minutes the signature was gone, and so was your energy. You walked back to your wall position and slouched against it, fingers rubbing your eyes as a new ache came from your temples. “Fucking hell, they’re now messing with my night duties. How low can they get?”

The black and red patterned man left on his ship with new information and some…conflicting emotions.

———

A year and 10 months passed and your life was bizarre to say the least. The mistreatment, name calling and isolation was still the same to your disappointment. But your sleep quality was heavily improved, your body felt better rested, and your anxiety has gone down significantly. The only side effect was weird dreams.

Across the span of this time the man had gone through a handful of months of trying to shove you from his mind, you were like a plague. He also thought of the most brutal of deaths for the master who insulted you. He got so annoyed with his mind he requested to be in a new area of the galaxy to not be able to even feel your presence…it didn’t help a single bit.

5-6 months into the year he had started accepting the emotions, and decided to watch over you. He wasn’t happy about the Jedi order’s behavior towards you. He was ready to kill every person who looked disgusted or said anything about you. He watched over you as you cussed, and cried for an ounce of a nice nights sleep, so he used his powers to lull your mind into restful, sweet, blissful sleep. The next morning your body felt like it was on a fluffy cloud. Your eyes welled up with tears of relief, and joy as you had enough energy to put in a little more effort in your appearance. Hair tied up in a proper style instead of a messy ponytail, uniform clean, and a smile rested on your slightly red, bitten lips.

The joy was only short as you were sent on a 2 month mission a few weeks later, and your sleep got worse again. This caused the multiple horned man couldn’t find you. But don’t worry he is a very determined person, and found you within a week.

At that point, your anxiety and stress had sky rocketed. Your usual bullying had gotten worse, because you didn’t make it to base camp at the allocated time. Leading to your masters to yell at you, give you inventory to sort, and you couldn’t rest until it was complete. Half way through you felt the familiar force signature from the first night. A smooth, yet gravelly voice made you jump while instinctually igniting your lightsaber.

“You shouldn’t have to endure the torment they put upon your heart and mind” the voice spoke, while coming out of the shadows. Confusion etched its way onto your face. You could tell the hooded man was no good, a Sith Lord most likely but you didn’t try to alert any one of his intrusion. His words seeped into your mind like sand between one’s toes. Repeating over and over.

“What is your business here?!” You got into your fighting stance, trying not to question his words and protect your camp. If you save them from this guy you could finally be liked! He rolled his eyes, using his ability with the force to seep into your thoughts. “You know they’ll find something wrong, even if you succeed in taking me out Darling”

Your figure slightly slumped over as his eyes held the truth. His hand reached and snatched your Saber from your hand, retracting the beam and placing it on your belt. Your confusion amplified at his actions. “What? W-why are you even telling me this?”

“Because Darling” he walked up to you, stopping just a foot from your body. You could see the details of his face, the red more clear in contrast to the black. “You know I’m right”. Your heart sunk to the bottom of your stomach, you did, you knew he was right.

———

From that day he showed up randomly, sometimes when you expected it, and sometimes you had to aggressively push him behind a wall and whisper “are you nuts?!”. He would smirk and shrug, walking off. You’d roll your pretty eyes and follow.

You stayed in the order, but found your comfort and peace in the man who went by “Maul”. It took a while for you to believe he wasn’t lying about a few things about himself, but once a foundation of trust was made you hung onto his every word.

You of course went through the usual phases. “What do you want?”, To “you again?”, To “stalker much?”, To “oh thank kriff you’re here!”. You guys maintained a great friendship. You had inside jokes, comfort between one another, learnt every little thing about each other, and so much more. The friendship lasted 4 years, until the following year (when you turned 25) you both felt a shift in the atmosphere. Catching each other’s eyes at random moments, longer silences and more tactile interactions.

However your workplace never got better, Maul would be there to support you through the worst days. The first time you both initiated a hug was when you were having a mental breakdown, and just a simple hand on your back didn’t help he pulled you tight, and close to his chest. You froze immediately upon impact, shocked but still in the middle of a mental breakdown you continued to get all of your feelings out in the crook of his neck. From there you both were comfortable in each other’s arms.

The 5th year, as the aura of your friendship was in its transformation you were struck with another breakdown. You flung yourself off your bed, the tie of your pajamas becoming loose as you ran into the woods. The fabric lowed over your shoulder as your eyes frantically looking for your confidant. You knew not to call out his name, they, the Jedi, will find you and punish you. Or worse, kill him. So your body fell to the ground trying to breathe through the pain.

The crunch of his boots against grass had you looking up at his worry stricken face. He reached for you as you blabbered through sobs “please…take m-me…away from here!" he held you and fixed your pajamas. Once you settled into his embrace he lifted your face by your chin, looking for any hesitations. Once certain he took his cloak off and placed it onto your frame. “Ok Darling, let’s go”

———

You got yourself familiar with your new home, which was his chambers on the planet of Mustafar across the span of 4 days. “How are you feeling darling?” His voice sounded so sweet in your ears. Your mind was finally at ease being off that planet. Your stress and anxiety felt like a distant memory already. You got up from his surprisingly comfortable bed while grabbing his outstretched hand. “Better, much better Maul”. He pulls you to his meditation room which was attached to his chambers. “This is where I would seep into your mind to bring you restful sleep”.

“I knew it was you after a while, the pieces of the puzzle came together on their own.” You smiled up at him. He reciprocated with his own smile. Maul used the force to pick up your lightsaber off your night table. “Are you ready and are you sure?” He held your chin again. “Yes”. With the force Maul opened your saber, to retrieve the Kyber crystal, placing it onto the ground you sat cross legged.

“Now, focus all of your energy on the sadness, all of your anger, all of your frustration, all of your pain into a ball. With that ball, force it into your crystal.” He instructed, and you followed suit. The blue of your saber fought against the red hue that was being emitted from your very soul. It wasn’t strong enough, compared to how you felt about those who put you through the worst years of your life. “Concentrate” he kept you grounded. Maul could sense your mind wandering.

The crackling had stopped, and the Kyber crystal was bled. You pulled it to your hand with haste, opening your eyes to look at it. A smirk stretched across your lips. Getting up you walked towards the man who you owed your freedom to, looking into his eyes he noticed the rings of orange and red in replacement to your (e/c).

“I love you Maul, I think I always have” your face came close to his, seeking the same emotion in his gaze. There was a moment of quiet, before his lips made contact with yours. The kiss was soft, tender and warm. With undertones of sickening revenge on his end. Maul pulled away, smiling down at your flushed face.

“I’ve always loved you too, my love”.

———

After a while of Maul teaching you new lightsaber tricks, force abilities that were forbidden by the Jedi code. All the while being the best lover the galaxy ever saw. He gifted you all the necessary things you had left behind, exotic flowers from planets he frequented and took the utmost care of you.

Your training had come to fruition, and your lover had approved you to come with him to fight. You grabbed your bag as you went to his ship, you got on board. As you walked up the ramp you saw Maul sitting in the cockpit. You placed yourself in his lap, folding your legs over each other. He kissed your lips as he took off.

On the way to your destination you had your regular conversations, and sat in comfortable silence. Maul never explained where you were going, but your gut told you that you already knew. Opening your bag you got your device, and when through some information with your lover. This consisted of notes from training, and important information from different groups of people he worked with. Half the time he got lost in your voice and had to get you to repeat yourself. “You are Darth Maul and you’re getting distracted? If the Jedi could see you now!” You laughed

“Of course I’m distracted love, have you seen yourself?” He rubbed your arm gently and held your gaze, which will never not make you blush deep red. “Shut the fuck up” you mumbled under your breath. His throat vibrated with a deep, amused laugh. Kissing your neck as he put the ship into hyperspace. His arm snaked around your waist to keep you from flinging forward, not letting go. This didn’t help your blush in any way.

You had landed at your destination, you were super excited to finally use your new skills and knowledge. Getting up from Maul’s lap, you put your cloak on and made sure your lightsaber was secured to your belt. Maul’s larger hands placed the hood over your head, casting a menacing shadow. “Ready, Darling?” His knuckles caressed your face and with a simple “Yes Master” you followed him out of the ships door.

The gravel beneath your boots was satisfying to your ears, as you approached a Jedi bass camp. Déjà vu hitting you hard, making your body burn with anger. Maul could sense it and refocused your mind, “stay focused Darth (y/n/n)”. Your response was a sharp nod with a small grunt. As you followed him you sensed force users. their signatures leaving a sour taste in the back of your throat. The camp was small, only housing 10 Jedi minimum.

"Wait here my love, you'll know when to come out" he placed a rough kiss to your lips, which you matched perfectly. You stayed behind the stones which hid the camp, choosing to lean against one that was nicely shaded. In your waiting time you practiced your breathing and preformed a brief meditation ritual, connecting to all the Sith Lords and Ladies that came before.

Maul walked up to the Jedi Knights, who were talking strategy around a table. some sitting, some standing and some lying down on the dirt. Their discussion came to a stop as they felt the aura of a threat. All of them got into formation, ready for anything.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen... If you could even call your selves that." his hands reached for the hood of his cloak, and elegantly placed it on his neck. His eyebrows lowered as he recognized all of your main bullies. His anger rising as he remembered all of your anguish and suffering. One, the worst of them all had the gall to speak. "What is the meaning of your intrusion, Darth Maul?" This caused a sinical laugh to come from the depths of his soul.

"Darling! come!" his voiced rasped. You smirked as you started walking, head down facing the dirt ground. Each step you took was an ego boost, while making you feel giddy for your plans to take shape. "The "meaning of my intrusion" is her"

Your steps came to a stop on the right side of his body, your black cloak twirling in the wind. The air became suffocating as your advanced force signature took over the atmosphere. "would you be so kind to introduce yourself my love?"

Raising your head, lowering your hood from your head you made eye contact with the Jedi. Their mouths become agape, shock etched onto their faces within seconds. "(y-y/n)?"

"You thought I was weak, but now I’m back to show you the true meaning of power. Let’s see how you handle the darkness you created."

With that the sound of 3 lightsabers were ignited and blood finally shed.

--------------------------

DONE! I hope you enjoyed it! It's not my best work, but if you feel otherwise then that is great!😂 For both my own indulgence, and research I went to TikTok to watch edits/clips to get a good look into the way his character is written in the movies. I hope I did him justice, and i conveyed what you envisioned! My years of developed creative writing skills finally kicked in a little over half way when i was writing! I'll edit it at some point, but for now I just want it posted. -L🤍

fans: how did padme die?

george lucas: she died in childbirth

fans: oh that's so s—

george lucas: of heartbreak

fans: ...

i think a lightsaber is a really telling choice of weapon for the jedi order in terms of how they practise peacekeeping. a lightsaber is not the tool of an organisation that priorities non-violence. it’s for, ideally, a very controlled amount of violence, as much violence as is necessary (whether it’s a kill or the traditional jedi cutting off a limb) to efficiently end the threat

we overwhelmingly see jedi fight other lightsaber wielders, but realistically on a day-to-day basis, the enemies the jedi face would be ordinary people, not remotely a match for them. it’s up to every jedi in battle to be judge jury and executioner, to decide exactly how much harm they need to do before they do it. in legends the jedi have their own specific terms for the different kind of cuts or ‘marks of contact’, with an understanding of how honourable they are and what enemies they can be applied to, which really demonstrates that they are controlled ethical decisions rather than instinctual or purely defensive

and on a wider scale this is how the jedi order practises their role in the galaxy. that’s the clone wars: rather than refusing to engage in violence, they accept an amount of violence that, in their view, has to be done in order to end the conflict as quickly as possible and achieve the peaceful result. but violence on a galactic scale can’t be so easily controlled. and even where it can be, that gives the jedi a level of galactic power they were never meant to have

the way obi-wan is the first to hold the children, the one who actually welcomes them into the world, it's the way he looks at baby luke with SUCH WONDER, HOPE, DEEPEST SORROW & LOVE

something something the way obi-wan & padme are each other's proxies which enables the transference of motherhood and how obi-wan is the one who gets 'cradling a new born child' close-up shot usually reserved for the mother instead.

*foaming at the mouth in utter derangment* isn't it....isn't it ironic how lucas said he needed vader as the father but needed a father figure so he created obi-wan for the OG trilogy, but the prequels accidentally (and unintentionally) place him in the narrative position of the mother.

by have him directly take over from padme; both LITERALLY and SYMBOLICALLY. their similarities in demeanour, personalities and their relation to anakin - as apologists, as devotees, as those who believe in him- makes their narrative roles transferrable.

how making padme die in childbirth and obi-wan be the first to hold the children to - figuratively- be the one who brings them into this world, keeps them safe and watches over them makes him a mother figure in exile, in direct opposition to anakin.

maiden -> mother -> crone

quotes from:

time of death by cavan scott

lone wolf by abel g. pena

Some splendiferous tags by @unlovedanimals on my other goofysilly post:

They make a great point that I wanted to piggyback off of in a less goofysilly way than the original.

Obi-Wan is not a rule-follower (as established by the recklessness and sheer amount of cunt served), but he is a principled man. His principles are likely a large contributor to why he is not a rule-follower. The whole Melida/Daan thing in Legends wouldn't have happened if Obi-Wan valued rules (and even respect) over what he believed was right. Actually, most events in his life seem to be him getting pulled into some bullshit because he's trying to abide by his principles and do the right thing. The man couldn't mind his own business if he wanted to. The Situations haunt him.

That strong internal moral compass lead him well up until the Clone Wars, when the amount of factors to consider became too great, so he had to slim his attention down to his immediate concerns in keeping people alive. Principles can only get you so far, especially when a creepy guy in a cloak is actively trying to ruin your life and the lives of everyone around you. Obi-Wan's persuasiveness, strategizing, and arrogance were great assets for a general, but ultimately he was too principled and too kind for war.

Some Jedi (Anakin and other fallen Jedi, especially) blame the Order for this, that, and the other because of its adherence to rules and the Code, but notably Obi-Wan doesn't. He reflects, he sees the faults and the missteps (i.e. how they set Anakin up to fail), but he doesn't blame because he never really followed the rules. He followed his own principles, so if he were to blame anyone it would be himself.

What people mistake for following the rules is actually him trying to provide structure for Anakin. Children and people in general do well when there are parameters in place for them to follow if they don't have experience or knowledge to fall back on. The structure is clumsy because Obi-Wan was so young when he became Anakin's master, but he did his best to establish expectations. He wasn't perfect, but how could he be? Perfection isn't human and would make for a very boring story.

The tragedy in Obi-Wan's character is how he's always trying to do what he feels is right even in a world that presents wrong after wrong, and every time he gets knocked down he stands back up, even in the face of his own mistakes.

And he's also a little bitch.

Anakin's Second Mother

family tree, ethel cain // obi wan kenobi episode three, dir. deborah chow // as consciousness is harnessed to flesh, susan sontag

Anakin : *knocking on the door at 3am* Rex! Rex! REX! Wake up!

Rex :What's the problem, sir? Are we under attack?

Anakin : I was thinking about Obi-Wan and Cody.

Rex :...

Anakin: If they get married, Cody will be my stepmother or brother-in-law?

Rex: Did you seriously wake me up for that?

Anakin :... Obi-Wan is like a father to me but he is also a brother. Does that mean Cody is going to become my stepmother and brother-in-law at the same time?

Rex :...

Anakin : Does that mean that you and I will also be brothers? Or are you going to become my uncle?

Rex :

one of the funniest and most in character things ever is Ahsoka mentioning the whole Vader thing once and Anakin defensively going "is that what this is about" and rolling his eyes like "oh my god I went on ONE 20 year rampage and no one can let it go, I'm on my apology tour right now what more do you people want"

STAR WARS APPRECIATION WEEK ↳ Day 2: Costumes | Favorite Padme Amidala Outfits