In Which, Much To Obi-Wan Kenobi's Surprise, While Dealing With The Consequences of One's Own Action's Can Be A Lot, It Isn't Always Entirely A Bad Thing
originally inspired by this and this from anon and husborth
Part One, Part Two, Part Three ... Part Fo ... uh ... there's memes somewhere... Anyway Here's Part Five:
Obi-Wan blinked awake, head cloudy and body heavy, as if under unusually high gravity. But no, there was the all-too-recognizable ceiling of the temple healing halls, its mosaic ceiling drifting in lazy, clockwise circles.
What did I do this time? Wait, there was something I had to tell the rest of the Jedi...something important...
Oh dear, he was on the good painkillers, wasn't he?
“Obi-Wan?” someone familiar asked, voice and force presence ringing with a startling jab of hope.
“Bant?” he tried to reply, only to be met with burning pain in his throat. The only thing he managed to get out was an unintelligible coughing fit which pulled sharply at his gut.
“Take it easy!” she urged, moving into his blurry line of sight. “You’ve had extensive abdominal surgery, and your throat was — was crushed rather severely — it’s going to take more time for the grafts to heal.”
Obi-Wan nodded, chastened, before cautiously starting the process of pushing himself up in bed, Bant hovering nervously all the while. The effort made his muscles ache and the room spin faster, but things settled down once he was sitting up.
He looked around, sagging in relief at a small oily handprint on one of the otherwise sterile visitor chairs. Anakin had been here recently, and was in good enough health to be tinkering. Good, that was good. That was important.
He suddenly realized half his vision was obscured and sluggishly raised a hand to his face, only to find heavy cloth.
“I’m sorry, we weren’t able to save your eye,” Bant said softly. “Once you’re a little more healed we can discuss artificial or bioengineered replacement options.”
She plucked a cup off a counter overcrowded with a dizzying array of flowers. “Here, drink some of this if you’re feeling up to it, it’ll make talking a little easier.”
Obi-Wan accepted the drink, only to feel it slide out of numb hands. Bant gently closed her hands around his, helping to guide the drink to his lips. He grimaced at the taste.
“Bacta infused water,” she apologized. “You’re going to be drinking bacta infused liquids for some time, I’m afraid.”
A wave of exhaustion swept over him and Bant set the cup down as Obi-Wan sagged.
“Anakin?” he managed to rasp out.
“Anakin’s fine, he’s completely safe,” Bant said with a comforting squeeze of his shoulder. “He’ll be annoyed to know he missed you waking up, he very much wanted to be there.”
Obi-Wan was going to say something else, but sleep dragged him under first.
//
Obi-Wan opened his eyes — his eye — to the sight of Quinlan Vos scowling over a datapad. The dark spot on the left side of his vision was more noticeable than before. What the kriff did I do to myself?
He shifted, irritated at how lethargically his body responded. The pad fell to the ground with a clatter as Quinlan lurched towards the bed.
“Obi-Wan! Hold on, let me — you’re supposed to have the water before you try to talk.”
Quinlan helped hold up a cup and straw so Obi-Wan could take several short sips of the unpleasantly viscous and vaguely pineapple flavored water.
“How are you feeling?” Quinlan asked, hovering with uncharacteristic anxiousness.
Obi-Wan paused to think. “Weak,” he replied in a hoarse whisper. “How long have I been...”
Guilt flashed over Vos’s face. “You were in and out of Bacta tanks and surgery for a full two weeks. And then another week in an induced coma. And then another week in a self-healing trance. You had...a lot of internal injuries. I’m so sorry Obi-Wan—this is all my fault.”
Obi-Wan stared at Quinlan blankly for a moment. His face helped the memories to start trickling in.
"Yes..." he said slowly. "Yes — you knocked on my door... you said... Vos... please just... just tell me if I hallucinated anything — did I try to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?"
"I'd say you succeeded," Quinlan replied, half-smiling, half-grimacing.
"Did I — did we think he was a pedophile, only—”
He had to pause, throat burning as he fought a coughing fit. He swallowed more disgustingly flavored water before finishing the thought.
“—only to discover that he was in fact not sexually grooming Anakin, but was doing a number of other terrible things? And did he... did he — did he electrocute me...”
Obi-Wan’s voice trailed off and he took several more sips, throat filled with an uncomfortable fizzing sensation.
Quinlan nodded, wincing. “I mean parts of that you know better than me but yeah, that matches with what I understand.”
“Hm.” Obi-Wan finished the cup, mulling it over.
Quinlan Vos muttered something under his breath that Obi-Wan couldn't quite make out, but the word "dramatic" almost definitely featured.
Grey crept in around the corners of his vision, then black.
//
When he opened his eyes — his eye, he'd have to get used to that — next, he was greeted by a convenient and increasingly familiar cup at his bedside, as well as Master Windu. Obi-Wan quickly reached for the water, clutching it in both hands and taking a long drink.
Spurred on by the sight of the Master of the Order, he also reached for the urgent thought from earlier, wanting to get it out before he slipped back under —
“Chancellor Palpatine’s a Sith Lord!!”
The corners of Mace’s eyes crinkled. “Yes, Knight Kenobi," he said. "We’re aware of that now. You’ve proved it to be the case quite publicly. And ended the threat with remarkable... thoroughness.”
Obi-Wan head fell back. “A Sith Lord... the Chancellor!” he said in amazement. He was relieved to find his throat only barely twinging at his outburst.
“It truly stretches the imagination,” Mace agreed tolerantly.
“You’re telling me!” Obi-Wan took another long drink, head spinning.
Master Windu smoothed a crease from his robe before saying, with extreme delicacy, “I don't wish to pressure you into speaking before you've healed... but I admit, we’ve all been wondering how exactly you knew.”
"He force choked me and electrocuted me with Sith Lightning. Lighting! I thought that was a myth!” He drained the cup, hands shaking slightly.
“Yes,” Mace said quietly. “The healers were amazed you survived so long... let alone had the strength to fight back with such strength. We’re all extremely grateful to the Force for keeping you alive long enough for us to reach you.”
Obi-Wan made a mental note to feel grateful later, but his mental space was a bit of a mess at the moment, and he wasn't entirely certain he had filed it away correctly.
Master Windu sighed. “We would have been there sooner but I’m afraid none of us had any idea that you were going to confront a Sith.” A twinge of reproach crept into Windu's voice, but Obi-Wan set it aside along with the gratitude, to be examined at some later date. Ideally when his head felt less full of bantha wool.
“I had no idea,” Obi-Wan said numbly.
“Well you figured it out before the Council at least,” Mace replied, not without humor.
He couldn't help but snort. “Yes, because he shot lightning at me. I mean the force choking happened first but... lightning. Lightning!”
Lines formed between Master Windu's brows as he looked down at him. “As much as it pains me, I understand the risk assessment in not telling the High Council about a Sith Chancellor of the Republic, and goading a public fight was probably the best political move possible. But why start the confrontation so privately? It seemed rather — apologies, we can debrief on that when you're rested. I presume you were trying to get a confession about the droid and clone armies?”
Obi-Wan stared at Mace Windu wide-eyed.
“The what.”
The lines on Master Windu’s face deepened. “The... Kamonian clone army — the clones of Jango Fett...”
Obi-Wan’s eyes got wider. “Jango Fett—you mean Galidrean Jango Fett? The Jedi Killer? Palpatine made a clone army of him?”
Mace was silent for a long while, staring at Obi-Wan as though he were a particularly concerning puzzle. Obi-Wan chewed on the straw, mind wandering to whether or not it would be appropriate to ask Master Windu for a refill. As unpleasant as the flavor was, the fizzing did make his throat feel better.
“Knight Kenobi...” Mace finally said, speaking very slowly. “Do you remember why Chancellor Palpatine attacked you? The soul healers were quite certain the Sith Lord didn’t breach your inner shields but I think you might be suffering from some memory loss...”
His left eye itched; he resisted the urge to reach for it. Obi-Wan sank further into the cushions behind him, trying to think. Were there gaps in his memory? No, as usual, it all seemed a fairly clear path from Quinlan Vos knocking on his door to Obi-Wan ending up unconscious in the healing halls.
“Why Palpatine starting attacking?" he mused. "I suppose he wasn't going to just dance around forever — force, when he dodged my blaster shot, I simply could not understand how — it all happened so fast, but the next thing I knew I was pinned against the wall by a Dark —”
“Stop,” Master Windu ordered, raising his hand. He took a deep breath, radiating calm into the force.
“Do you remember what Palpatine said immediately before you shot him?” he asked patiently.
Obi-Wan shifted, feeling a pang of awkwardness as he muttered the answer guiltily under his breath.
“I’m sorry, Knight Kenobi, I didn’t quite catch that.”
“He said, ah, ‘you’re a Jedi’ and ‘you can’t kill an unarmed man.’”
Mace Windu stared at Obi-Wan.
There was a long pause while Obi-Wan fidgeted with the straw. He was starting to feel that perhaps his thoughts were even less clear than he had assumed them to be, and he was not handling this conversation particularly well.
Windu took another deep breath, radiating slightly less calm then before.
“Knight Kenobi. Why did you shoot the Chancellor of the Republic?”
“...I was trying to kill him,” Obi-Wan said, looking down.
“Why?”
Obi-Wan mumbled.
“Kenobi, speak clearly.”
“Well—ah—it actually turns out that I had misunderstood...I mean it had certainly seemed like...but he wasn’t actually...doing exactly what I thought...”
Windu stared at the recumbent Knight, who flushed.
It occurred to Obi-Wan for the first time, that, considering his plan of running away and becoming a bounty hunter was no longer possible nor, perhaps necessary, he could have misrepresented some of the timeline of events vis a vis sith slaying. Or better yet, pretended to have memory loss.
In his defense, the whole experience had been extremely unnerving! For all that weeks had clearly elapsed for everyone else, Obi-Wan was still processing Chancellor Palpatine shooting lightning out of his fingers.
A wave of exhaustion flooded over him, and he sank into it with relief, recognizing now the sickly sweet painkillers pulsing through his blood, clouding his thoughts and pulling him under.
//
Unfortunately, Mace Windu was still there when he woke up. Kriff.
He opened his mouth to try and backtrack, but Windu raised his hand, cutting off any poorly thought out explanations.
Master Windu took a deep breath, radiating very little calm by this point.
“Let me get this clear. Nod if yes, shake your head if no, did you go into the Chancellor’s office with the intent to assassinate the Chancellor of the Republic?”
Obi-Wan nodded.
“Did you know he was a Sith before you went into his office?”
Obi-Wan shook his head.
“Did you suspect he was a Sith?" Mace asked, slightly desperate.
Obi-Wan shook his head, cringing in apology.
“Before you went into the Chancellor’s office, were you aware that he was working with the Kaminoians to commission a clone army?”
Obi-Wan shook his head, biting back questions.
“Did you know he was working with the trade federation to commission a droid army?”
Another no.
“Did you suspect anything about these armies? Anything about a larger plot to destabilize the Republic? Destroy the Jedi? Become Emperor?”
Obi-Wan shook his head at each question, eyes widening with shock.
Mace Windu was radiating absolutely no calm at this point.
“Knight Kenobi...” he asked with a pained expression. “Did you... attempt to assassinate the Chancellor of the republic for personal reasons born out of some sort of misunderstanding? Only to inadvertently save the Republic?”
“I mean once I found out that he was a Sith... I of course changed tactics... and personal is a bit... but... that... Well. More or less sums the situation up, yes.”
Mace WIndu stared at Obi-Wan Kenobi, who wasn’t sure if he should keep talking or not. He didn't entirely trust his ability to explain things well at the moment, and ultimately decided to err on the side of silence.
Obi-Wan vaguely wished he could slip into sleep, but was fairly sure that it would be rude and possibly obvious to do twice in one conversation. His throat itched and he considered once again asking for more water, ultimately deciding against it.
Minutes passed, Master Windu staring blankly at the wall above Obi-Wan’s shoulders, while Obi-Wan's mind started to wander.
Who on earth had been paying to feed a clone army? How was Quinlan doing at getting Anakin to brush his teeth? Am I going to prison? Ohh that’s why the force was so insistent on killing Palpatine. Maybe that would help explain things to Master Windu? Though 'the force told me to' is generally not considered a good excuse, in of itself, for acts of violence...though this is a rather unique situation...
Eventually Master Plo walked in, letting out a pleased noise.
“There he is! The Hero of the Republic!”
Mace Windu closed his eyes.
“Is that what they’re calling me?” Obi-Wan asked weakly, when it became clear Master Windu wasn’t ready to address everything wrong with that.
“Oh! Your drink is empty! Mace, Vokara was very clear with her instructions!” Master Plo scolded.
Mace Windu didn’t reply.
Plo-Koon snatched the cup, filling it up from a pitcher across the room and talking boisterously. “Well, the public is throwing around a lot of titles, but since you already had Sith Slayer...”
“Oh dear,” Obi-Wan said faintly, accepting the terrible water and drinking it for lack of anything better to do.
Plo-Koon patted him on the shoulder reassuringly. “I’m afraid to tell you it’s going to be very difficult for you to dodge commendations for your actions. Now that you’re awake you’re going to be faced with quite a backlog of requests for ceremonies and interviews—”
Obi-Wan choked. “Ceremonies?” he repeated in a higher pitch. He snuck a look at Master Windu. His eyes were closed, though he didn't appear to be meditating.
That probably wasn't a good sign.
"Yes, ceremonies," Plo-Koon said with far too much relish. "Turns out there are quite a lot of old traditions on the books regarding —"
Master Healer Vokara Che entered the room at brisk pace. “I thought I heard voices — I will remind you that before he is the ‘Sith Slayer Returned’ or ‘The True Chosen One’ or any such nonsense he is first and foremost my patient.”
She gave a sharp look to both Council Members. Plo-Koon nodded contritely while Master Windu continued to not say or do anything.
“The — no, no Anakin’s the chosen one —" Obi-Wan sputtered. "Anakin’s the reason — people aren’t actually calling me that, right?” he asked, drugs doing an admirable job at suppressing the panic he was fairly sure he was going to feel later. The device in Master Che's hand beeped faintly in answer.
“That and more, young Kenobi,” another familiar voice suddenly added, below his field of vision. “To collect your honors, expect to survive, you did not, mmn?”
“Master Yoda! No, I—I really didn’t expect... any honors... at most I was hoping that people would understand...” Obi-Wan protested weakly, shooting Windu a beseeching look which yet again failed to garner a response.
Che rolled her eyes, flipping a lek behind her somewhat sarcastically as she attached a glowing device to his chest. "Of course you didn't."
He barely refrained from wincing as several needles bit into him.
“Perhaps we would have had a better chance of understanding had you left us any of your evidence,” Master Koon chided gently.
“Put together the pieces we did, in our time,” Yoda added, hopping up on the nightstand to affectionately poke his shoulder.
“Your vitals look good, all things considered,” Master Che said, sounding smug. “You should be back to getting into trouble in a year or so.”
Obi-Wan jerked his head in her direction, aghast. “A year?!”
“Busy, you will be, if work you wish. A seat, open there is for you. Comfortable chair, good company, important duties.”
Master Windu’s eyes squeezed further closed.
“What?” Obi-Wan asked, bewildered.
The healer scowled. “You were bleeding heavily into more or less all your major organs, including your brain. Really, it would be faster for me to list organs that weren't damaged. The fact that you recovered at all is only because Master Gallia conducted ill-advised on-scene amateur healing—"
"Is she alright?" Obi-Wan asked.
"—ill-advised, but successfully non-self-detrimental amateur healing, and I’m a miracle worker, and, credit where credit is due, you’re a stubborn bastard; not to mention your padawan has far too much energy to throw around — you really should consider enrolling him some healer’s courses—”
“Is he alright?” Obi-Wan asked, more urgently.
“He’s fine,” Master Plo reassured him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. “Everyone is fine except for you. He just tired himself out a few times, but Knight Vos has been keeping a close eye on him, and Anakin understands that the best thing at this point is to let you heal under your own power."
“Can I see him?” he asked. His voice was growing hoarse despite the dutifully refilled cup.
Vokara’s face softened. “Of course. He’ll be stopping by after class, in another hour or so. He’s been very punctual.”
“Master Windu? Alright are you? Silent, you have been.” Mace flinched upon being prodded with a stick. He opened his eyes, pinning Knight Kenobi with a steely gaze. Obi-Wan shrunk back, but Windu just sighed.
“You...” he trailed off. He stood up slowly, as if the movement pained him.
"I —" he said authoritatively, quieting the room. "—am taking a sabbatical. Call me when—” Windu gestured vaguely. “—you all sort out this mess.”
He walked out.
A long moment passed. “What did you tell him?” Master Plo finally asked in a hushed whisper.
"Ah..." Obi-Wan paused, limbs heavy with fatigue. "Well — you see— " He closed his eyes, feeling slightly cowardly as he did so.
//
When he opened them again, the light hadn't shifted nearly as much as other inbetweens, and his bandages hadn't been changed. Master Plo was still there, speaking quietly with Yoda.
Shit.
"Not too long that time," Vokara said, pleased. "I've lowered the dose on some of your medications, it should make it easier to stay awake."
"Oh. Good," Obi-Wan replied.
"Young Kenobi." Plo-Koon moved closer. "I dislike pressuring you in your current state, but... Master Windu appears to have left the temple. We were wondering..."
Obi-Wan opened his mouth, then closed it again, considering. His mind was, at last, starting to catch up with mouth. “He asked me... some questions. About how I came to suspect Palpatine," Obi-Wan said carefully. "It would appear I may have forgotten some details. About the evidence...Master Windu was — distressed regarding what I did and did not recall."
Vokara nodded. "Memory loss is completely understandable with the type of injuries you recieved."
"Alright, it is, if remember everything, you cannot," Yoda added kindly. "Our own investigations, ongoing are."
"So if I, ah, can't quite remember everything that led up to our fight," Obi-Wan asked, feeling guilty, but force, that blank look in Master Windu's eyes. "I mean I definitely remember the force willing me to decisively seek his end — really it was unusually loud about it," he added hastily. "If that helps."
Yoda nodded slowly. "This reason, understand we do. But, present to the public, perhaps not a good idea would be."
"Yes," Obi-Wan said. "I think — I'm not certain but I believe Quinlan Vos may have helped me collect some evidence..."
"Said as much, he did. Wait to confer with you, he wanted."
Obi-Wan sagged backwards with relief. "Yes. Yes! We had security concerns... Palpatine was so highly placed..." he trailed off.
"Considering Sifo-Dyas's and Count Dooku's entanglement in all this I can hardly blame you for hesitating to reach out to the council," Plo-Koon said, exhaustion audible even through his vocoder.
Obi-Wan choked on his spit; the following coughing fit was soon rewarded with a fresh bacta drink from Vokara.
Dooku?? Sifo-Dyas??
"Perhaps after I speak with him I'll be able to better assist with the current investigations," he offered hoarsely after recovering.
"Of course," Plo-Koon said gently. "Again, we apologize for interrogating you so early into your recovery but you really can't imagine the public and political scrutiny we've all been under —" He hesitated. "Master Windu was joking about taking a sabbatical right now, was he not?" he asked, sounding strained. "I know he's been under a lot of pressure, but surely you having memory issues couldn't—"
He was thankfully interrupted by the sound of small feet moving rapidly and a gangly body launching itself at highspeeds through the doorway.
Vokara just managed to snag the back of Anakin's robes before he crashed into Obi-Wan's medbed.
"Padawan Skywalker," she said, voice tight. "I believe I have mentioned the numerous injuries your master is recovering from and the need for —"
"Care in my movements," he said sheepishly. "Apologies, master, thank you."
"Anakin," Obi-Wan said, something in his chest relaxing at the sight of his dangling student.
"Obi-Wan." His padawan's eyes immediately started filling with tears.
Obi-Wan reached out instinctively. "Oh, Anakin."
"Give you a moment, we will," Yoda said, hobbling out, as Vokara sighed, then gently placed his pupil on the floor.
"Of course," Plo-Koon agreed. "Take all the time you need." He hurried to catch up with Yoda. Obi-Wan heard him begin to say, "Mace can't actually be leaving us to deal with this clusterfu—'' Then the door closed, and Anakin was weeping at his bedside.
"Shh," Obi-Wan said, tugging his padawan up, ignoring the protestations of his abdomen. "There, there, it will be alright."
Anakin crawled up, movements ginger and uncertain around Obi-Wan's numerous injuries. Together, they somehow managed to shift Obi-Wan enough for Anakin to fit beside him. His padawan shook with suppressed sobs, and parts of him were almost certainly hanging awkwardly off the edge of the bed.
Obi-Wan ran one hand through Anakin's hair, the other hand gently resting where he could reach without twisting too much, probably an elbow, though the boy was pointy enough these days that he couldn't be sure. If Obi-Wan was also shaking, well. There was reason enough.
"Sheev," Anakin finally said, oozing misery and an overwhelming tangle of other unpleasant emotions into the force.
"...I know he was your friend—" Obi-Wan said, after what was hopefully not too long a pause. This was another conversation that probably wouldn't be helped by painkillers.
"But he wasn't, really." Anakin curled up, even more miserable. "I know. I should let go."
The side of Obi-Wan's head throbbed. On second thought, painkillers were the way to go here. "That's not what I meant," he said. "He was a friend to you. He's gone now. Because of me, your master. And... I'm sure you've found out a lot while I've been asleep. I can't imagine a single padawan learner who wouldn't be struggling with their emotions right now. I'm struggling."
"I'm angry," Anakin said into his side. "Master, I'm so full of anger."
"You think I wasn't?" Obi-Wan asked dryly.
Anakin hiccuped a sob. "I'm angry at everyone."
"It's alright, Anakin," Obi-Wan soothed. "You'll work through it in time. I'll be here to help, whenever you want. Even when I'm the one you're angry with."
Anakin sobbed another minute, force presence roiling, before finally pulling himself in with a deep breath, and wiping his nose on the sheets. "You looked so cool when you were angry," he mumbled into Obi-Wan's side.
"Oh force," Obi-Wan groaned. "Of course there was holofootage. Of course you watched."
"Are you... still angry?" Anakin asked.
Fuck.
Obi-Wan tried to think of the right answer for a padawan learner. His head throbbed again.
"Honestly? Right now I'm mostly just tired. I feel like I was run over by a pack of bantha. It's never a good idea to try and deal with large emotional gnarls while you're this exhausted, remember that my young padawan."
"You've been asleep for years," Anakin whined. "How are you still tired?"
"Years?" he asked, amused.
"At least three," Anakin huffed, curling up against him.
Obi-Wan stroked his hair in peaceful silence for a moment.
"...Did you really smash in his skull with a metal chair to protect me?"
"I would do a lot of things to protect you," he confessed. "I'm sorry Anakin — I should have talked with you when I grew concerned with his behavior. I felt at the time I had to act swiftly, but I worry I only caused you more pain."
"It was a really cool fight."
"...Thank you, padawan."
"Can you teach me how to choke people with my ankles like that?" he sniffled.
Obi-Wan groaned internally. "Of course, as a Jedi, violence—"
"Violence is our last resort," Anakin interrupted. "Right, yeah —but if it is needed—"
"—Such as when someone," Obi-Wan said over him. "After careful consideration, is found to be both politically insulated and positioned to commit great further harm—"
"Actually, I think you, the person who killed my trusted friend, lecturing me on why he was ultra especially irredeemably evil is traumatizing, even more traumatizing than all those holo compilations of you —"
"Oh force above, of course there's — oh. Oh no — please don't tell me—"
"The latest Jizz music," Anakin said, far too gleeful.
Obi-Wan groaned. Unfortunately, the extra movement in his chest triggered an admittedly ghastly sounding coughing fit and Anakin immediately lost the small edge of grace he had managed to cultivate during their back and forth.
"Master?" he asked urgently. "Master — hold on — I'll go get—"
"I'm fine," Obi-Wan rasped. "Any more of that —"
Anakin was already scrambling to fetch the pitcher.
Such a good boy, he thought affectionately, watching him pour and carry over a glass with the same care others might have when handling molten gold.
Obi-Wan drank with a reciprocal amount of delicacy, knowing his padawan was watching falcon-eyed for any wasted drops.
"Perhaps we should finish this conversation a little later," Obi-Wan said, once his airways calmed down.
Coughing should not be this exhausting.
"Of course," Anakin said, subdued, but he crawled back into bed readily enough when Obi-Wan patted it.
“Really, though —” Obi-Wan started to say, feeling it was duty to try and wrap up the lesson, but he was fortunately cut off before he was forced to figure out exactly what that lesson was.
“It’s alright,” Anakin chimed comfortingly. “We have time to talk about it, master. Can’t you tell?”
“Hm?” Obi-Wan replied, fighting the droop of his eyelids.
“The force clears,” Anakin said, voice sonorous. “The dark retreats.”
“Oh.” Obi-Wan’s eyes started falling closed. “That’s nice.”
“So we have time. To figure out the rest.”
“Very nice,” Obi-Wan murmured.
His padawan curled against him, force presence like ocean waves rocking him to sleep.
“The force says it’s going to be alright,” Anakin whispered, wonderingly. “It’s going to be alright.”
Obi-Wan smiled, then once again slipped back to sleep.
SLEEPOVER SHENANIGANS - How Yuu learnt to sew (fuck it its a mini-au now hell yeah!)
so to clarify before i type this post out, Sleepover Shenanigans is a miniseries of mine (the only one currently i'm new to Tumblr okay) in which after each OB, Yuu has a sleepover with everyone from the dorm in Ramshackle. For example, after Riddle's OB, Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater and Riddle head over to Ramshackle to have a sleepover as, in this mini au of sort, it is the ONLY way Yuu is willing to forgive them. Oh, and the mandatory dress code is onesies so there's that.
Ace and Deuce, the dumbasses, had gotten in trouble with Trein during History of Magic, and were currently in detention. Yuu would've waited for them, but Crewel had given Grim detention ("FOR THE SEVEN'S SAKES, GRIM, DO NOT EAT THAT POTION!" Crewel's voice still rang through their ears. Dang, he could be scary!) and Yuu had to tag along with Grim because Crewel lectured them on not stopping Grim, which was kind of unfair considering how often they'd stopped Grim before, they were just tired.
It was just a few days after Leona's Overblot and their clothes were looking... worn. Actually, worn was an understatement, those clothes were barely holding themselves together. By the time the end of the day had rolled around, Yuu was fed up.
First they and Grim had to deal with nightmares from Riddle and Leona's OBs, which were terrifying. What absolutely didn't help were the fast-spreading comments on the state of Yuu's clothes. They were frayed around the edges, with a few gashes from where the rose thorns had cut through and from when Leona nearly turned them to sand. That was not fun. Not to mention, Grim had already ripped part of their jacket and now the sleeve was hanging on for dear life.
"___... Wow, their clothes look awful."
"It's like they don't even care about their appearance."
Grim observed as Yuu's expression changed and they looked so, so tired.
Yuu tried to ignore them and move on, and was promptly startled out of their thoughts by-
"HEY! You there! Apologize to the GREAT GRIM'S HENCHMAN!! They didn't ask for their clothes to be like that!"
"Oh yeah? And what's a furball like you gonna do about it?~~"
Grim puffed out a bit of fire as the students started to look somewhat panicked.
"I can just ROAST YOU for that!"
"Grim! Come on, they're not worth our time! We need to get going so you don't get in more trouble with Professor Crewel."
"Hmm." Grim considered it for a few moments and took in how Yuu looked really scared. ...He didn't want them to be like that (although he'd never admit it to them aloud).
"... I guess you're right Henchman! Let's go!"
Yuu breathed a sigh of relief as the direbeast backed down. Phew. Crisis averted.
~~A few minutes later-outside Professor Crewel's office.~~
"Professor? It's Yuu and Grim. We're here like you asked us to be during homeroom." Yuu spoke politely.
"Ah. There you are, pups. Yuu, have a seat over there for the time being while I discuss with Grim about his less than desirable behavior in class." said Crewel, pointing them in the direction of a sofa, not sparing them a glance. Crewel spent the next 30 minutes lecturing Grim on how incredibly unsafe his behavior has been during his class.
Then Crewel went after Yuu.
"As for you, Prefect, I was honestly expecting better of you and thought you could handle- Prefect?" Crewel started off strong and confident, about to lecture them on the importance of keeping Grim in line, and finally took in Yuu's disheveled appearance. He noticed the eyebags Yuu had tried their best to hide, the various holes and the jacket sleeve hanging on for dear life.
Oh, he was not happy.
Yuu, shocked by the complete 180 in tone as Crewel went from disappointed to... hold up, was that concern???
"Yes, Professor?" they replied hesitantly.
"What in Seven's name happened to your uniform? And now that I'm looking a little closer, are those eyebags? No wonder you weren't able to handle Grim today."
Yuu rushed to try and interject and insist they were fine but Crewel gave them a look and they fell silent.
"Let me guess, a certain headmage hasn't taken your needs into account, has he?"
"I'm-"
"Pup. If you try and tell me you'll be fine, we're not going to get anywhere with this." Crewel sighed, opening his stash of fabric he brought with him in case of emergency.
Yuu looked on in confusion as he brought a bunch of fabrics toward them.
"If you want to be able to get through this, pup, you're going to need to know how to sew. I'll teach you some of the basics today and you'll come back after school everyday until I can be sure that you can sew for yourself."
"...Why are you helping me, Professor?" Yuu asked, their voice quiet, visibly surprised.
"Now, Yuu. Do you really think that I'd let one of my most hardworking pups look so disheveled in class? You handle Grim everyday, and have managed to get along with some of the least desirable mutts at this school without backing down. You truly are, as Crowley named you, a beast tamer. Not to mention, it's a basic right for you to be able to be comfortable for the time being, no?"
Crewel's voice was soft and slightly warmer, looking Yuu in the eyes as he handed them a needle.
"Let's begin with patching up that jacket sleeve, shall we?"
---------------------------------- FIN -----------------------------------
no one needed it but i WANTED it to be known that Crewel's the one who taught Yuu to sew. I mentioned the fact that Yuu knows how to sew in the Pomefiore Sleepover Shenanigans post ehehehehehe.
im thinking of making more extra little pieces in this AU. yeah fuck it l, its an AU now because i said so
All due to the idea I've been imagining today.
A what if Luffy and the crew met someone who, very uncanny, looks and sounds like Ace.
Thus… Jean was made. ✏️✏️✏️
Info at read more ( it is a messy ramble format so beware. )
He was born as a slave to the celestial dragons, after his parents was caught while his mother was pregnant to him.
He grew up with an isolated understanding that he really was just that. A slave, until he died. his parents would die just a few years in from the torture done to them. While Jean still lives on.
He would meet Boa and the others who was like him telling him that there was more to the world than their servitude. But he was way too unmovable with his mentality that he will die like that, that he thinks they're just being dumb he would get depressed as time passed, so when the freeing of slaves at Mary Geoise by fisher tiger came, he was too weak to even move and being mistaken as already dead, he was left there.
but he is still alive and would later then be dumped on auction houses by his current owner. where he would, surprisingly be given better treatment by his fellow slaves as well as taken care of.
he would meet different kinds of people in the auction houses. where he would learn about the world and eventually wanting to be free.
Jean is at the auction house at sabaody, the place where luffy destroyed and punched a celestial dragon. he's in his cat form. and thats the moment he finally achieved freedom.
he hears about the man who freed them and made it his missiong to thank him. maybe even join the adventures of his savior if allowed the two years he spent wandering around, would be the time he would stumble upon the graphite graphite fruit, which what would also help him get stronger, learning to fight on his own as well.
once he deems himself strong enough, he would seek out luffy and his crew to finally and hopefully thank him and ask to join him. hoping to be able to create drawings of the landscape in the places they would visit.
how he met the crew:
after punk hazard. on the way to dressrosa ( they arrived at a small island where Jean is currently in, to restock ). Jean saw their ship, transformed into his cat/tiger form and went into the ship.
once the crew left the island. he's already there. and when everyone saw him. they just though he was some cat.
chopper was the first who was talking to him and chopper thought he was a stray and Jean just went with it for a while.
everyone treated him like some pet. until one morning where he poofed back to his human form.
everyone was in panic. but when he showed that he was their pet. ( he was VERY PROUD to be called the pet of the strawhats ) everyone was a bit freaked not because of that but he looks and sounds like ace.
everyone is very shaken especially luffy and thught he was some evil guy using ace's face
jean explained that they saved him at sabaody, that he was one of the slaves at the auction house.
he would always use his cat form after seeing how shaken luffy is with him. not minding being in cat from one bit. so long as he lets him join them.
luffy does eventually let him join. at first only referring to him as 'pet cat' to finally calling him by name 'jean'
Jean is part of the mature group of the crew.
he does have similar personality as Ace but he likes to tease the younger ones a lot. especially making Zoro feel jelly by being too close to Luffy
yes this is ZoLuccentric
Jean is pushing Zoro and Luffy to realize their 'feelings' for one another.
JEAN BITS
Jean is 28
Jean loves hot chocolate as it reminds him of his mother. the only thing that his mother ever made him.
Jean's weapon of choice is his foot. making his battle style a bit similar to Sanji ( careful not to harm his hands anymore, wanting to paint )
but he does still use his hands when he uses his devil fruit. he fighs like a martial artist'
Jean's devil fruit is a good conductor of fire so he always have a lighter with him. he sets fire to his graphite which creates the illusion that he uses fire. ( another thing that makes him unsettling for Luffy and the crew.
his devil fruit is logia type. his graphite can be sand like crocodile and or liquid ish like candle and or can be solid as well.
Jean would most likely always be found at high places in places they visit, to paint / draw
jean is 6'5"
he and usopp get along well because of their artistic side.
he can do recon missions well because of his ability to transform to a cat
