Who Wants to See My Back Tattoo?

@yellowpodracer

I'm General Anakin Fucking Skywalker.

2,398 posts

“You have my respect, Stark. When I’m done, half of humanity will still be alive. I hope they remember you.”

detocqueville-deactivated201711

Star Wars Meme: [5/10] characters → Anakin Skywalker

He doesn't care about politics at all, despite her attempts (and the attempts of the Supreme Chancellor) to teach him otherwise, but he does care about knowing what might be a threat towards her. "The Banking Clan needs to just admit they're favoring the Separatists," he snarls. He's tired of the various clans and unions playing both sides. It makes everything much murkier, and confusing.

He leans over and refills her glass, topping off his own in the process. Somewhere in the back of his mind he thinks maybe he shouldn't have too much more to drink tonight, but he pushes it aside. He's on leave. It doesn't matter. Nothing really matters.

"Oh," he says in response to her question. "You know, the usual. Saved lives, destroyed droids, crashed a couple ships. No big deal." He's teasing, of course, sugaring his words to protect her from the truth: the broken bones, the blaster wounds, the unending feeling of terror that he won't be strong enough or fast enough, the stim shots frying his nerves but the only things that can keep him up and moving.

"I thought about you every day," he tells her earnestly.

#nabooangel #rp

Padmé looks up at Anakin as he pulls away. She doesn’t need the Force to sense his upset, and she hurts for him. Thankfully, this is one instance she may be able to help; she grins slyly at him.

“I haven’t been feeling well,” she feigns, “and it could be contagious. We wouldn’t want any of the other senators to catch it. We’ll see how it develops over the weekend but I have a feeling I may be quarantined a few days. But I do like he idea of dinner.” Padmé lets go of Anakin completely, leading him toward the dining area.

“Mom sent this wine from Naboo– I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to open it. This is a rare occasion, isn’t it?” She makes certain not to allow any sign of disappointment to echo in her voice; this is a happy time and she needs Anakin to feel safe and loved.

Heading to the liquor cabinet, she pushes several bottles aside – when had she finished THAT much of that liquor? She guiltily pushes it behind several others– and retrieves the wine she’s searching for.

“Do we want Threepio to do all the work, or should we make an adventure of it?” Padmé can cook, but it doesn’t necessarily mean she should. She knows this, but she isn’t sure what Anakin has in mind.

Anakin grins at her lopsidedly. “Oh no, we wouldn’t want to infect the rest of the Senate,” he says, using his most serious voice. “It’s a good thing Jedi don’t get sick easily.” To prove his point, he leans down and gives her a kiss. “If we make Threepio do the work, we can open that wine a little faster,” he comments, noticing how her fingers had hesitated along the bottles in her impressive liquor cabinet, how her stress and anxiety sing along the Force like taut tripwires. She works too hard, he thinks. Maybe they both do. Maybe they deserve the time to spend together for a change. “Besides, then at least it will be edible.” He can cook, but his skills are fairly limited to dressing up field rations these days, when he’s able to eat at all. Padme can cook as well, but she looks so worn out.

“I like the way you think,” she reaches up to kiss him again before calling for Threepio. The neurotic droid enters with his typical “oh my!”. Padmé is surprised that he was still unaware she’d returned; he’s typically much more attentive. She’s certain Anakin’s Return has thrown him off and she can’t fault him for that.

“I know it’s a bit later than usual,” she says as she reaches for a pair of wine glasses, “but I think we’re hungry. Would you mind starting dinner?” She turns to Anakin as she expertly opens the bottle. “Is there anything particular you’re in the mood for?” Padmé herself isn’t overly hungry, and anything will do.

Anakin shrugs. "Braised nerf?" he requests. "I've been living off ration bars for two months, so anything else is just fine."

He accepts the glass she hands to him and tries not to gulp it down in one go. This is Padme, not the docking bay with his men after a battle. He's got to make a better impression on her. "So. How many enemies have you made since I saw you last?" he asks with a wry smirk, leading her back to the sofa.

#nabooangel #rp

Padmé looks up at Anakin as he pulls away. She doesn’t need the Force to sense his upset, and she hurts for him. Thankfully, this is one instance she may be able to help; she grins slyly at him.

“I haven’t been feeling well,” she feigns, “and it could be contagious. We wouldn’t want any of the other senators to catch it. We’ll see how it develops over the weekend but I have a feeling I may be quarantined a few days. But I do like he idea of dinner.” Padmé lets go of Anakin completely, leading him toward the dining area.

“Mom sent this wine from Naboo– I’ve been waiting for a special occasion to open it. This is a rare occasion, isn’t it?” She makes certain not to allow any sign of disappointment to echo in her voice; this is a happy time and she needs Anakin to feel safe and loved.

Heading to the liquor cabinet, she pushes several bottles aside – when had she finished THAT much of that liquor? She guiltily pushes it behind several others– and retrieves the wine she’s searching for.

“Do we want Threepio to do all the work, or should we make an adventure of it?” Padmé can cook, but it doesn’t necessarily mean she should. She knows this, but she isn’t sure what Anakin has in mind.

Anakin grins at her lopsidedly. “Oh no, we wouldn’t want to infect the rest of the Senate,” he says, using his most serious voice. “It’s a good thing Jedi don’t get sick easily.” To prove his point, he leans down and gives her a kiss. “If we make Threepio do the work, we can open that wine a little faster,” he comments, noticing how her fingers had hesitated along the bottles in her impressive liquor cabinet, how her stress and anxiety sing along the Force like taut tripwires. She works too hard, he thinks. Maybe they both do. Maybe they deserve the time to spend together for a change. “Besides, then at least it will be edible.” He can cook, but his skills are fairly limited to dressing up field rations these days, when he’s able to eat at all. Padme can cook as well, but she looks so worn out.

#nabooangel #rp

Meditative retreat. What a kriffing joke. Like he’s going to stick around the Temple for two weeks meditating. At all. Does ANYONE actually use a meditative retreat for anything besides an excuse to take some time off from the demands of being a Jedi?

Probably, Anakin realizes with a scowl. He’s probably the only one who uses the time in any other way, the only one who has to resort to Lower Level trips and escapes to 500 Republica.

It had been unexpected; the Council had read his latest mission report and for some reason decided he needed a break. He’d argued, of course - the LAST thing he needed was a break - but in the end, he’d been overruled. Again. As usual.

He knows it’s too much to hope for, heading towards Padme’s apartment complex, for her to be home at this time of day. He hadn’t waited to comm her, had hopped in his speeder and just left because he’s a Knight now and he doesn’t need anyone chaperoning his leave time. He doesn’t need permission. (He tries to forget the look of concern on Obi-Wan’s face).

Threepio lets him in immediately, tutting and offering refreshment. Anakin thinks. “Ithorian Mist,” he requests, finally. He’s on leave. Ahsoka’s not here. Padme certainly won’t judge him.

Meditative retreat, he scoffs. Meditation is the last thing he’s planning to do, especially once he sees his wife again.

Padmé rubs her temples as she exits the senate building. It’s been a particularly long day, running later than the ordinary with the latest round of deliberations. What seemed like endless hours of watching senators bicker like children and talk in circles has whittled away what patience she’d had, and she can’t wait to get home.

She’d been invited out by several of her colleagues; not an uncommon gesture. Several of them have taken to social gatherings and mealtimes at the end of the week, and occasionally Padmé has joined them. She just doesn’t have the energy tonight.

Tonight, she decides, is a night of awful holodramas in her favorite pajamas. Threepio will be excused for the night and she’s just going to relax. It isn’t as if she’s shirking any duties, and her comm link won’t be far. She’s earned this, she decides, and hurries home.

Arriving at the apartment, Padmé is immediately thrown off. Threepio is always right there to greet her, and he’s nowhere in sight. He’d certainly seemed fine that morning, and her concern drifts to the apartment itself.

“Threepio?” She calls out hesitantly. She internally berates herself for not having her blaster on-hand, because if there’s an intruder she’s just announced herself. Such an exciting life she leads.

Anakin hadn’t realized he’d dozed off on the sofa until he hears Padme calling for Threepio. He pushes himself upright, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his mechanical hand.

He hadn’t meant to doze off, really, he’d just been tired and the painkillers he’d taken before leaving the Temple must have mixed funny with the alcohol. Or maybe he’s just exhausted. Regardless, he’s awake now, on his feet and heading towards the sound of the only voice that matters to him.

“Welcome home, Angel,” he says when he sees her in the foyer, looking so beautiful and perfect if not a little bit on edge. “Didja miss me?”

She drops her stance immediately and momentarily develops a bit of a dumbfounded look, an incredulous “Ani?!” Escaping her lips as she rushes to wrap her arms around him and draw him close.

“I had no idea you were on leave! No comm, nothing! If I’d known, I’d have done something to be here! And… potentially missed a stressful day at the office…” she certainly wasn’t bitter. And didn’t need to talk about work.

“Has Threepio at least offered you food? How long do I have you for?”

Anakin buries his face in her hair, breathing in deeply the scent of her perfume and shampoo, losing himself in the sensation of being in her arms once again after so, so, long being apart from her. "I'm sorry," he says softly, "I wasn't expecting to be given leave, I thought I would be reassigned immediately."

He tightens his arms around her, almost thinking that if he doesn't hold her close she'll disappear and he'll be alone. He's so tired of being alone. "They've given me two weeks," he murmurs against the top of her head. "I know it's short notice, but I thought..."

He shakes his head and pulls away slightly. It's presumptuous of him to assume she's able to rearrange her entire schedule to accommodate the Council's completely arbitrary decision. (Their decision has nothing to do with Kix's report about his stim use in the field, he tells himself). Still, if he's stuck in the Temple he'll go insane. "Anyway. If you can't take time off I understand. I was hoping I could... at least stay here. Obi-Wan's in the Outer Rim, and I don't..."

He doesn't have Ahsoka anymore, so nothing at the Temple requires his attention. He sighs and realizes she'd asked him a question. "Threepio's offered pretty much everything you've got in the kitchen I think," he says with a chuckle. He doesn't say he emptied half a bottle of her expensive liquor; instead, he says, "I was waiting for you to have dinner."

Romantic, maybe. Like a real couple.

#nabooangel #rp

Meditative retreat. What a kriffing joke. Like he’s going to stick around the Temple for two weeks meditating. At all. Does ANYONE actually use a meditative retreat for anything besides an excuse to take some time off from the demands of being a Jedi?

Probably, Anakin realizes with a scowl. He’s probably the only one who uses the time in any other way, the only one who has to resort to Lower Level trips and escapes to 500 Republica.

It had been unexpected; the Council had read his latest mission report and for some reason decided he needed a break. He’d argued, of course - the LAST thing he needed was a break - but in the end, he’d been overruled. Again. As usual.

He knows it’s too much to hope for, heading towards Padme’s apartment complex, for her to be home at this time of day. He hadn’t waited to comm her, had hopped in his speeder and just left because he’s a Knight now and he doesn’t need anyone chaperoning his leave time. He doesn’t need permission. (He tries to forget the look of concern on Obi-Wan’s face).

Threepio lets him in immediately, tutting and offering refreshment. Anakin thinks. “Ithorian Mist,” he requests, finally. He’s on leave. Ahsoka’s not here. Padme certainly won’t judge him.

Meditative retreat, he scoffs. Meditation is the last thing he’s planning to do, especially once he sees his wife again.

Padmé rubs her temples as she exits the senate building. It’s been a particularly long day, running later than the ordinary with the latest round of deliberations. What seemed like endless hours of watching senators bicker like children and talk in circles has whittled away what patience she’d had, and she can’t wait to get home.

She’d been invited out by several of her colleagues; not an uncommon gesture. Several of them have taken to social gatherings and mealtimes at the end of the week, and occasionally Padmé has joined them. She just doesn’t have the energy tonight.

Tonight, she decides, is a night of awful holodramas in her favorite pajamas. Threepio will be excused for the night and she’s just going to relax. It isn’t as if she’s shirking any duties, and her comm link won’t be far. She’s earned this, she decides, and hurries home.

Arriving at the apartment, Padmé is immediately thrown off. Threepio is always right there to greet her, and he’s nowhere in sight. He’d certainly seemed fine that morning, and her concern drifts to the apartment itself.

“Threepio?” She calls out hesitantly. She internally berates herself for not having her blaster on-hand, because if there’s an intruder she’s just announced herself. Such an exciting life she leads.

Anakin hadn't realized he'd dozed off on the sofa until he hears Padme calling for Threepio. He pushes himself upright, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his mechanical hand.

He hadn't meant to doze off, really, he'd just been tired and the painkillers he'd taken before leaving the Temple must have mixed funny with the alcohol. Or maybe he's just exhausted. Regardless, he's awake now, on his feet and heading towards the sound of the only voice that matters to him.

"Welcome home, Angel," he says when he sees her in the foyer, looking so beautiful and perfect if not a little bit on edge. "Didja miss me?"

#nabooangel #rp

Meditative retreat. What a kriffing joke. Like he's going to stick around the Temple for two weeks meditating. At all. Does ANYONE actually use a meditative retreat for anything besides an excuse to take some time off from the demands of being a Jedi? Probably, Anakin realizes with a scowl. He's probably the only one who uses the time in any other way, the only one who has to resort to Lower Level trips and escapes to 500 Republica. It had been unexpected; the Council had read his latest mission report and for some reason decided he needed a break. He'd argued, of course - the LAST thing he needed was a break - but in the end, he'd been overruled. Again. As usual. He knows it's too much to hope for, heading towards Padme's apartment complex, for her to be home at this time of day. He hadn't waited to comm her, had hopped in his speeder and just left because he's a Knight now and he doesn't need anyone chaperoning his leave time. He doesn't need permission. (He tries to forget the look of concern on Obi-Wan's face). Threepio lets him in immediately, tutting and offering refreshment. Anakin thinks. "Ithorian Mist," he requests, finally. He's on leave. Ahsoka's not here. Padme certainly won't judge him. Meditative retreat, he scoffs. Meditation is the last thing he's planning to do, especially once he sees his wife again.

#nabooangel #RP

Um, fucking EXCUSE me!?

Problem, Anakin?

So you and Bail are a “dynamic duo” or whatever now? What does that make you and me?

We had some brandy and then had some fun with the Photoshopper is all

Okay two things: A,) It’s Photoshop, not Photoshopper, and B) did you at least save me some brandy? Also C) I’m way hotter than Bail.

Bail says no more brandy 4 u, make sure Ahsoka goes to bed on time Anakin ilu bye

Ahsoka’s been in bed since like 10pm. When are you gonna be home? Brandy and sex for Anakin? I won a battle the other day…. and saved your life…. again….

Goodnight Anakin!

But Masterrrrrrrrrrr

Um, fucking EXCUSE me!?

Problem, Anakin?

So you and Bail are a “dynamic duo” or whatever now? What does that make you and me?

We had some brandy and then had some fun with the Photoshopper is all

Okay two things: A,) It’s Photoshop, not Photoshopper, and B) did you at least save me some brandy? Also C) I’m way hotter than Bail.

Bail says no more brandy 4 u, make sure Ahsoka goes to bed on time Anakin ilu bye

Ahsoka's been in bed since like 10pm. When are you gonna be home? Brandy and sex for Anakin? I won a battle the other day.... and saved your life.... again....

Um, fucking EXCUSE me!?

Problem, Anakin?

So you and Bail are a “dynamic duo” or whatever now? What does that make you and me?

We had some brandy and then had some fun with the Photoshopper is all

Okay two things: A,) It's Photoshop, not Photoshopper, and B) did you at least save me some brandy? Also C) I'm way hotter than Bail.

Um, fucking EXCUSE me!?

Problem, Anakin?

So you and Bail are a "dynamic duo" or whatever now? What does that make you and me?

Um, fucking EXCUSE me!?

sadistic-suggestion-deactivated

it’s tiring, isn’t it? being in control, making choices, thinking for yourself. it’s so, so tiring. let me do it instead. you’ll like it.

fathercharlesoffdensen

@thishereanakinguy Is this Granta Omega? :P

Look, eventually I’m gonna get rescued so… yeah okay let’s do this.

Fffffff

What?!

Did I stutter?! FFFFFFF

Do you want me to....

sadistic-suggestion-deactivated

it’s tiring, isn’t it? being in control, making choices, thinking for yourself. it’s so, so tiring. let me do it instead. you’ll like it.

fathercharlesoffdensen

@thishereanakinguy Is this Granta Omega? :P

Look, eventually I’m gonna get rescued so… yeah okay let’s do this.

Fffffff

What?!

sadistic-suggestion-deactivated

it’s tiring, isn’t it? being in control, making choices, thinking for yourself. it’s so, so tiring. let me do it instead. you’ll like it.

fathercharlesoffdensen

@thishereanakinguy Is this Granta Omega? :P

Look, eventually I'm gonna get rescued so... yeah okay let's do this.

reminder that leia’s mom 1. was a babe and 2. has the greatest star wars costume that nobody ever saw because you only see her for like five seconds from a distance

#bail organa doesn't know what he's missing

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