Do you ever wish these two had just decided to schism together at the end of “The Wrong Jedi” and run off to found their own order with attachment and meaningful hand touching?
Yes! “Snips and Skyguy’s Badass Brigade” It’s perfect
Please kidnap Obi-Wan before you leave.
If they Schism, I firmly hold that Obi-Wan is going to end up Grandmaster of their new order because force knows the other two don’t have the patience for it. They’ll just have to content themselves with converting Obi-Wan to their side via hug ambushes and snuggles.
Obi-Wan woke up slung over Anakin’s shoulder. Again. Vague images of Anakin looking apologetic flashed past his eyes and -
“What in the blazes do you think you’re doing?!”
“We’re kidnapping you,” Ahsoka said cheerfully from somewhere above his dangling right shoulder. “We’re going to build a new Temple and we need someone with sense.”
“Hey, I’ve got sense,” Anakin protested indignantly, though very tellingly he neither refuted the kidnapping, nor the new Temple bit.
The former Obi-Wan could cope with, that happened every second week anyway, but the latter? Clearly the universe had gone mad.
Or alternatively, he’d finally gone and snapped after one too many blows to the head. Or was it Anakin who’d gone bonkers? He was so confused. His head hurt.
“Anakin,” he said, very slowly and deliberately (and noted with some satisfaction the slight hitch in Anakin’s step as he recognized the tone of voice), “did you hit me with Qui-Gon’s old frying pan?”
At least Anakin had the grace to emit a few sheepish vibes. “We needed something you wouldn’t register as a threat.”
“Couldn’t you just have asked?”
“Oh, and that would’ve been such a fun conversation,” Anakin said, uncommonly sarcastic. “Hey, Master, we think the Jedi Order has lost its way, wanna come build a new one? Oh, and please don’t tell the Council, which, incidentally, you are a member of?”
Obi-Wan thought for a moment. “Better than hitting me over the head with a frying pan.”
“Hey, it worked!”
“Oh poodoo. I thought you said the Twilight would be here?” Ahsoka sounded more than a little worried as Anakin skidded to a halt.
“I sent Artoo to get it. He shouldn’t have had any sort of a problem!”
Obi-Wan finally pushed himself upright enough that he was braced against Anakin’s back rather than draped over it like a rather lumpy cloak. His eyes weren’t focusing quite right, but they looked to be in one of the older, more obscure hangers in the temple. There were rows and rows of mothballed ‘fighters and shuttles, save for a mid-sized transport tucked near the exit.
“Ex…cuse me, Generals? Commander."
Obi-Wan bit back a groan, squeezing his eyes shut as Anakin whipped around to face what had looked to be a small squad of clones, in the few seconds before the room had spun.
"Commander Wolffe,” Anakin growled back, and Obi-Wan could only hope that his former padawan wasn’t going to be an idiot just because Wolffe and half the clones on Coruscant had been ordered to track down Ahsoka. It wasn’t like they’d had any say in the matter.
“General Koon wanted us to inform you that the engines are hot and according to your ‘mech, we’re just waiting on one more passenger.”
There was a terrible pause, and Obi-Wan forced his eyes open to look at the Wolf Pack, assembled without helmets and hands conspicuously away from their blasters.
Then fuckall if Anakin didn’t whip around again. “ARTOO!! Get out here RIGHT now!”
He groaned and clamped a hand over his eyes, since it was either that clamp over his mouth, and Obi-Wan disliked admitting the head injury was affecting him that much. He could hear Artoo’s wheels churring as the droid came over, then a defiant string of beeps he wasn’t in the mood to try to translate.
“What?!” Ahsoka yelped, even as Anakin growled.
“What do you mean, ‘you expanded mission parameters?’ How much did C-3PO coach you on that?”
There was an offended whistle that cut right through Obi-Wan’s brain. “Please not so loud. Or at least let me WALK on my own.”
Some clone cleared his throat, and Obi-Wan could tell that Anakin was caught between outrage at Artoo and resignation regarding…whatever it was that was going wrong. Then his padawan let him go, someone in trooper armor catching him and slinging an arm across their shoulders. “Easy there Sir, I’ve got you.”
“Cody, can you either just shoot me, or Anakin, and call it a day?”
“Sorry Sir, I don’t understand those orders.”
He bit back the snide, possibly foul response he wanted to make to his commander’s pretend ignorance.
“WHY would you tell another Council member that—!”
Artoo warbled through Anakin’s shout, and from the transport a very exasperated Kel Dor presence emerged. “Skywalker, we do not have all day,” Plo called. “Our presence will be missed, possibly sooner rather than later, and I would rather be off planet and constructing this new order of yours BEFORE we have to deal with Mace having a bad day.”
“He told you?!”
“You have a very persuasive droid.”
“Oh he’s something alright,” Anakin muttered.
“Plo, I suspect you could be drier, but you cannot possibly mean what I think you mean.” Obi-Wan forced his eyes open, and his fellow council member crossed his arms and GRINNED that damned annoying way he had. “Oh Force, you’re all serious.”
"Would someone like to tell me why we’re not ready to take off NOW?” The group turned to see Rex and a squad of the 501st escorting a furious looking Padme Amidala into the hanger. She glared at Anakin. “Senatorial exceptions to air traffic control are only going to last so long, and we need to get moving!”
It was only a small relief that Anakin looked as flabbergasted as Obi-Wan felt. “Padme? What are—?”
“Rex told me everything, Artoo has some good ideas, now let’s GO.”
In the wake of senatorial directives, the clones seemed quite happy to get a move on, leaving the bemused Jedi to trail along in their wake.
“You didn’t plan this,” Obi-Wan accused Anakin, who grinned and shrugged with that mad look of one who knows improvising really is the best battle plan.
“No one can plan for Padme. Are you really objecting?”
”No, Sir, he’s not.” Obi-Wan glared at Cody, then sighed and let himself be carried along.
Someone had to be the voice of reason in….whatever this was.
Half an hour later, Obi-Wan’s Anakin-whacked-me-over-the-head headache had finally subsided (with some help of judiciously applied Force healing) and was now threatening to be replaced by a more common Force-help-me-I’m-surrounded-by-idiots headache. They were just about to clear Coruscant airspace and Padme and Anakin were still arguing.
“ - you let Artoo contact a Council member, Padme! Of course I’m upset, you could’ve sunk this whole enterprise before it even started! Besides Artoo doesn’t need any more bad influences in his life, he’s already starting to swear like Obi-Wan.”
Oh, now that was just unfair. If anyone was a bad influence on that droid it was Anakin. Padme seemed to feel the same.
“Bad influence?” she said loudly, eyes sparkling dangerously. “Who was it who taught him that if things weren’t going well he should just blow everything up?”
“… Obi-Wan?”
Obi-Wan opened his mouth to protest, but was saved from what was surely going to be a long and drawn-out argument about who had blown up more enemy bases in the last couple of years by the holotransceiver beeping on the twilight’s console.
Ahsoka squinted at the transceiver’s readout. “That’s the Jedi Council’s code, Master.”
“Oh great, just what we needed,” Anakin grumbled, ignoring Obi-Wan as he dropped his forehead into his palm.
He pressed a button and a translucent image of a very pissed Mace Windu appeared in front of them.
“Skywalker! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Anakin clearly wasn’t in the mood for explanations, or beating around the bush. “What you’ve been too afraid and too mired in politics to do, Master Windu. We’re going back to the roots of what it means to be a Jedi.”
To just about everyone’s surprise, Mace’s scowl lessened a fraction. “Do you think now is really the time to do this, Skywalker?”
Anakin shrugged. “Now is the only time to do it.”
He glanced at Obi-Wan, something mischievous lurking in his eyes that immediately made Obi-Wan suspicious. “Also, in future you should direct any complaints to our new Grandmaster, Obi-Wan Kenobi.”
What?
“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, pinching the bridge of his nose, “you can’t be serious.”
“Why not, Master? As Ahsoka said, we need someone sensible to lead us, and Plo didn’t want the job.”
Obi-Wan glared at him. “I don’t want the job either!”
Anakin’s look turned slightly pleading as he silently sent ‘can we please talk about this some other time, Master?’
Obi-Wan scowled, but subsided.
“Kenobi?” Mace’s eyes were in serious danger of bugging out of his head. “What are you doing on this crazy enterprise?”
"Oh, don’t look at me,” Obi-Wan responded dryly. “Someone neglected to ask whether I wanted to be involved.” Next to him Anakin shifted, finally looking at least somewhat guilty.
"However, it seems that I’m committed.”
A soft sigh of relief was all that Anakin permitted himself, but Obi-Wan heard it nonetheless and turned slightly to give his partner a gentle smile.
You didn’t think I would leave you to do this alone, did you?
Anakin’s own smile looked a shade rueful, acknowledging the unspoken admonishment.
I LOVE IT.
Muhahahaha! The frying pan! (please tell me they brought The Pan with them? It should be enshrined as a relic of the new Order, only to be brought out in times of dire need!) And being declared Grandmaster!
You know, everyone would think that Obi-Wan’s the *sane* one, but when the bit’s between his teeth, he’d out-crazy them all. And this is the chance for him to implement all those changes to the regulations he’s always chaffed under - the Galaxy (and especially the Separatists/Sith) should beware the New Order’s Grandmaster Kenobi.
Can you just *imagine* his reaction when Dooku, hearing of the Schism, comes calling, trying to recruit them? I can see him just thinking the situation’s so ridiculous he might as well go with it and yelling for someone to bring him the traditional Weapon of the New Order - the frying pan.
And then the galaxy would have live footage of him using it to beat Dooku to a pulp.
(Thanks be to dogmatix for the sanity checks, hamelin-born for the prompt since I was out of ideas, and elenothar for running with the madness.)
A few weeks later, Naboo
“…Grandmaster Kenobi?”
Obi-Wan wasted a precious second to close his eyes and wince before trying to give the nervous young human at the door a smile.
Well. Perhaps an approximation of a smile, but there was so damned much paperwork and logistics to deal with. “Yes?”
The girl shuffled a little uneasily, so whatever it was, it was probably something significant. The local Naboo didn’t shrink from much of anything, even if they were overly polite.
“Um. Master Plo was hoping you could come talk to him in his office?”
He made a face. “Is Master Plo going to tell me something that will make me lose my temper? Again?”
She giggled a little. “Well, he did say that once I saw you off, I was to take my time finding Anakin.”
‘Anakin.’ Not Master Skywalker, or Knight Skywalker, or Skywalker anything. The informality was nice, even if it did still surprise him a little. He could see how Plo’s gravitas had earned the title from some of the locals, but he still could not get his head around being called ‘Grandmaster.’
“I see. Then you’d best amble off and pry him away from Padmé.”
She giggled again, waving to him as she scampered off.
Well. Best see what new crisis has happened.
————-
Plo was standing near his desk, grinning down a packing crate.
“Do I want to know?”
Plo chuckled and raised a holo. “These arrived earlier. From Yoda.”
“It’s been almost a month; we knew this would happen. What does it say?”
“Nothing.”
Obi-Wan blinked and stared at the Kel Dor. “You’re going to have to explain that.” Who knew that having Anakin as a padawan and Qui-Gon Jinn as a master would be prefect preparation for these endless requirements of patience without resorting to drink or esoteric arts and crafts?
Plo tossed him the holo. “It contains a recording of approximately fives minutes of Yoda laughing. I think he might be trying to say something as well, but he does not manage anything coherent.”
Oh, another one of those headaches. “Ah.” He tossed the holo back onto the table and nodded towards the crate. “That’s a rather large box for just a holo.”
He was persistently impressed at the range of emotion Plo could convey under the mask. He never used to think that the man could smirk. “I’m not going to like this very much, am I.” When all Plo did was step back from the crate, Obi-Wan sighed. “I’m taking that as a yes. If it bites or drips anything on me, I’m firing you.”
“That will only be the third time this week. I shall find some way to endure.”
He paused long enough to shoot the Kel Dor a nasty glare, then opened the crate.
“…you have got to be kidding.” He hadn’t known a Kel Dor could snigger, either. “This came from Yoda?” The damned Kel Dor ducked out the door rather than answering. “You’re fired!” Obi-Wan hollered, hefting the frying pan out of the box. “Cody’ll see you to the door, you bastard!” He glared back down at Qui-Gon’s old cookware. Yoda’s sense of humor was never to be trusted.
He checked the crate to make sure there wasn’t some sort of message elsewhere, only to find some varnished wood further down. He carefully dug out a plaque meant to hang on a wall, brackets for the frying pan already attached. A bit of etched metal declared “For the New Order!” underneath.
Anakin came careening into the room. “Obi-Wan, we – What the hell?”
He snickered and hefted the pan. “I think this means Yoda quietly approves. Or at least doesn’t disapprove, and he wants to tease.”
Anakin blinked a few times, then shook his head. “Okay, great. Fantastic. We have bigger problems. Dooku just arrived waving a white flag and he wants to talk to you. He heard about the schism and I think he’s actually stupid enough to believe we’d want to fight against the Republic now.”
Obi-Wan gaped. “Are you quite serious?”
“You think I’d joke about this? Tholme’s distracting him, T’ra and Ahsoka are getting the clones ready, and Vos is getting the padawans prepped for any droid attacks. I’m not sure where Plo is, but Wolffe is looking.”
He nodded. Tholme could talk anyone in circles for hours, so they had a bit of time before Dooku’s ego overpowered that. Tholme’s wife – and hadn’t that been a shock, those two showing up, congratulating them on the schism, then demanding shared quarters since they were quite fed up hiding their marriage – was a capable commander. Vos might still be the moodiest bastard Obi-Wan had ever met, but brooding about things led to useful brooding protectively over things, and the padawans were mainly war orphans, padawans whose masters had died in battle thus leaving them in an unfortunate limbo. Like so many things, that was a matter perpetually left “for after the war.”
The more realistic padawans had found their way to Naboo as well.
Obi-Wan considered his options for a moment, then gave his padawan a wolfish grin and hefted the frying pan. “Padmé said we have a meeting hall. I suppose we should go mount this there. Perhaps introduce Dooku to the new way we do things around here.”
….I snuck in and snagged the next bit. With help from dogmatix and elenothar — thank you both!
———
Dooku wasn’t sure if he should be impressed at Master Tholme’s obsession with architecture, or horrified that he’d once thought the simpering twit was a competent master. Well, perhaps this new Order they’d formed had helped rot the man’s mind.
Could well be the influence of the locals. The Naboo had never impressed him very much. Twittering on about harmony and –
The side door banged open, and at long last Obi-Wan Kenobi strode into the room. It was no surprise that he was playing at power games; ignoring Dooku to stroll over to the far – empty – wall that Tholme had spent a good five minutes rhapsodizing over the stonework.
“Hmm. Here, I think,” he declared, gesturing with –
“What the blazes?” Dooku couldn’t quite help himself, blurting out the question as he confirmed that yes, Kenobi was holding a frying pan.
Kenobi spun, a vaguely manic glint in his eyes. “Ah, Count Dooku!” He smiled with all the sincerity of an experienced politician and advanced upon him. Tholme took the opportunity to retreat to a corner like a well-trained flunky, whereas Skywalker strolled in, insolent as usual as he carried a wooden…thing.
“That wall, Anakin,” Kenobi declared, once again brandishing the pan towards the wall. “See what you can do with that.”
“Yes, Master,” the boy declared with such fake humility it could choke a gundark. For all that, he seemed intent enough on wandering over to mount the damn thing, whatever it was.
“I hear you’ve come to pay us a visit.”
“Indeed.” Dooku swung his eyes back to Kenobi. “I heard you finally decided a Schism was necessary.”
“Well, these things happen. Falling out with old friends, you know.” Kenobi stopped before him, feet planted firmly in a challenging stance. Had the man worn a lightsaber, Dooku might have been a touch concerned, but all he had on his person was that pan.
Very little of this was going how he had expected. “Yes. I find myself rather curious as to how far your Schism extended.” At Kenobi’s overly polite and curious look, Dooku started to pace. Tholme was still in his corner, taking some kind of report from – ah, now that was interesting. From the man’s former padawan, Vos. Skywalker had used the Force to mount what looked to be some kind of trophy plaque on the wall, that what could possibly fit in those brackets was beyond him. That boy was watching them with a disgruntled expression, arms crossed and fingers of the arm Dooku had taken tapping impatiently on his other forearm.
He spun to face Kenobi, who had followed to remain a few paces away. “Have you simply left the Jedi? Or have you left the Republic as well?”
Kenobi’s smile was thin and barely trying for humor. “Now really. Here we are, making a new home on a Republic world –”
“Which has long had its sympathies for you, and any strays you might bring in. I recall what it was like, leaving the Order, and had I not had my own home to go to, I would have been quite adrift.”
Skywalker had bristled at the “strays” comment, as intended. Kenobi, however, simply rolled his eyes. “Oh spit it out already. I have a ridiculous amount of things to do today. What do you want?”
He pulled a regretful face, and shrugged as if it were no matter. “I had thought that perhaps Qui-Gon might have encouraged more…open-mindedness in you. I do know I tried to teach him better than this.” There was just the right touch of disappointment, never disdain, in his voice. “In the meantime, I am merely here to offer Serenno as an alternative home, should you or any of your people wish to travel to more appreciative climes.”
There was an odd silence as Kenobi stared at him, brows still raised in inquiry. Then of all things, the man shook his head. “Really? That’s your play? That’s your grand scheme? Invoke my dead master – dead not too far from here, thank you very much for presuming that would tweak my heartstrings – and use a bit of Force suggestion to try to make me thing this was a good idea?”
Dooku blinked, gaping a little. There was no way Kenobi could have felt that! He could not have known –
Kenobi spun away as if to flounce off, only to sharply spin back, frying pan raised.
There was a sudden explosion along Dooku’s side.
* * * *
The entire unending headache of this whole venture was worth the look on Dooku’s face as Obi-Wan entered the meeting hall with the frying pan in hand. Getting to actually hit Dooku with it was worth doing it all over again. Anakin’s applause was merely icing on a lovely cake.
The Count was on the floor, clutching his arm – and oh, wasn’t it tempting to repay Geonosis and go for a leg as well. Somehow Obi-Wan restrained himself to tutting and shaking his head. “That was for trying to fuck with my mind. Do that again, and I shall do more than break your arm. Or ribs. Whatever it is that made such a lovely snapping noise.” He looked over as a smirking Tholme broke off communications with Vos. “What’s our status?”
“The commando droids sneaking out of his shuttle have been neutralized, and –” A faint explosion somewhere above in the skies of Naboo filtered down. “That should be the last of their air support being taken care of.”
Kenobi gave the man a polite nod, then glared down at Dooku. “Get the hell out of our home, and please be aware that next time, no white flags are going to save you.” He spun around, almost humming. With cleanup from a skirmish like this, none of his plans for the day were relevant anymore, and so he probably had quite a bit of spare time on his hands – especially if he delegated properly. He took a few steps away from Dooku, then used the Force to move the frying pan into the brackets.
Perhaps not the worst place for it at all.
Anakin had been tapping his foot impatiently in front of Obi-Wan’s desk for ten minutes now and it was going on his last nerve.
“No, Anakin, I don’t have time to spar with you because you saddled me with this blasted job and I’m drowning in paperwork,” Obi-Wan gritted out past clenched teeth, closing his eyes. Force, he needed a drink. Strike that, he needed ten drinks. Something strong. Something really strong. The day spent getting blisteringly drunk after Yoda showed up had already dimmed to a distant memory, and of course his resignation from the damn job had lasted all of seven hours. Twelve years of Qui-Gon, ten years of Anakin, and now he got saddled with an entire order. Somewhere in the Force his old Master was surely laughing at him.
On second thought, the Force was probably laughing too.
He breathed in, breathed out again, and made a conscious effort to release his frustration into the Force. Immediately the pounding behind his temples eased.
When he opened his eyes again, Anakin was looking at him with a mixture of guilt, worry and weariness.
“I changed my mind,” Obi-Wan said, much more civilly. “I need a break.”
———-
Their current training dojo was only temporary, a larger, more accommodating one being built by busy Naboo and Jedi hands, but it would do for their current purpose.
Obi-Wan rid himself of his cloak and turned towards Anakin, a challenging eyebrow raised high on his forehead. Anakin grinned in acceptance of the challenge, and advanced.
Two minutes later, Anakin was flat on his face, his right arm twisted painfully behind his back.
“Master,” Anakin wheezed, “you’ve been holding out on me.”
Obi-Wan looked down at him smugly, but released his grip as Anakin’s free hand tapped the ground in the universal sign of capitulation. “Maybe I’m just more motivated to kick your ass right now.”
Anakin gave him a shit-eating grin. “If I’d known all I needed to do to get you to really fight was to make you really, really annoyed I’d have tried that approach ages ago.”
“You did spend the last ten years trying to do that. Don’t take credit for my unending patience with your antics.”
Giving Anakin a hand up, Obi-Wan fell back into an opening position, hands open and in front of him and beckoned.
“Now, why don’t you put some real effort into this.” He smirked. “Unless that was all you got?”
Anakin’s affronted expression was well-worth the gruelling session that followed.
*
The first time Obi-Wan caught a Padawan standing in front of the newly mounted ‘Frying Pan of Freedom and Justice’ muttering under her breath, he didn’t think much of it. The story of how their new Grandmaster had whacked Dooku one had spread like wildfire and delighted adult and child Jedi alike after all.
He also hadn’t been too concerned with the growing number of Jedi running around with cooking implements attached to their belts now – had even been vaguely impressed with Knight Vos’ collapsible one.
Then he witnessed a screaming match between two younglings over whose frying pan was better and more like the Grandmaster’s, and realized that somewhere along the lines he’d made a terrible mistake. One might debate whether their little group could still be named Jedi, but he certainly wasn’t keen on it being renamed ‘Order of the Frying Pan’. It was far too undignified for one thing.
The next time he found a group of Padawans huddled around the frying pan display, young voices hushed and serious as various fingers pointed out particularly dented spots, he cleared his throat loudly.
“What is this, Padawans?”
Four small heads turned quickly enough for Obi-Wan’s neck to twinge in sympathy.
“Um…”
The oldest of the Padawans, who’d been all but shoved in front of the group by everyone else, squirmed.
Obi-Wan raised a brow. “Yes?”
“It’s our assignment, Master,” he mumbled out in a rush, shuffling his feet a little. “There’s a standing assignment for all Padawans to try and determine where and by whom the Grandmaster’s frying pan was crafted.”
Obi-Wan almost choked on his invisible double-take. What in the Force’s name?
“And who exactly gave you this assignment?” he asked, brows drawing together suspiciously.
The Padawans shared a look, and clearly unanimously decided that throwing the mysterious teacher under the speeder was the better part of valour in this case. “Padawan Tano, Master.”
Obi-Wan sighed. Of course – if it wasn’t Anakin making trouble or attempting to upend buckets of water over his head, it was his equally troublesome Padawan.
“I see,” he said out loud, and shook his head. “I wish you luck, Padawans.”
The little ones exchanged confused glances.
“I thought there was no luck, Master?” one of them ventured.
“Exactly.”
Obi-Wan turned to go.
“Oh, and Padawans? While at times it is good and proper to let someone else speak for you in deference to their wisdom, I would not recommend employing that strategy when explaining yourself to Masters.”
A chorus of sheepish ‘Yes, Master’s followed him out of the meeting hall. Only once outside and out of earshot, did he allow himself to chortle quietly. Determine the origin of the frying pan indeed.
If only they knew their precious pan was found by Qui-Gon on a rubbish heap decades ago.
Since it got invoked, I’m just gonna toss this out there. As of 11/23/16, this is the most advanced thread that I know of. ^_^
Don’t mind me, I just discovered this wonderful thread and wanted to play in the sandbox. (Also, since Star Wars now belongs to our favorite human-sized mouse, and we all saw Tangled, does this mean Obi-Wan is a Disney Princess?)
When Master Yoda came to Naboo to visit the New Order (of NOTHING, thank you very much), most of the Temple inhabitants felt tense, but Obi-Wan was probably the worst of them all. After Dooku’s little visit, they had reasons to be wary and it was the first real contact they would have with their former group. Obi-Wan made his point clear : no attacks, but no inattentiveness either. He knew that the clones, for one, would run the same patrols and checks they had when the Count of Serenno came. The meeting in itself went well, to Obi-Wan great relief. Yoda cackled a bit when passing the Main Hall (if the Jedi heard ‘Pan Hall’ one more time, he was hitting someone with it), but otherwise, he listened, gave some advice, and did not try, not once, to bring back ‘wayward’ Jedi into the fold. Obi-Wan found that he quite liked this relaxed, equal standing he now had with his great-grand Master, and felt that the day would end well. And then, when Master Yoda left, he stopped in the middle of the Hall (the crowded Hall, of course, full of young Padawans and curious Masters) and kriffin’ BOWED to the Frying Pan. Obi-Wan froze and, in the corner of his eyes, saw Plo and Tholme’s shared grin. The Kel-Dor and Human Masters imitated the little green troll and soon, EVERYONE FOLLOWED. That’s it, Obi-Wan was making a Council, and he was sticking Plo Koon and Tholme in it. That’d teach them. But first, he had a Grandmaster to bash in the head with a pan.
this is brilliant i love it <3
So just hear out a couple of headcanon things I thought up while reading this
1. Corps members who were dissatisfied with their lives in the Corps (hey its good valid work but sometimes there are members who listen to the force and hear whispers of something more) come to Naboo every so often and join the New Order.
2. The New Order has Jedi and non-Jedi teachers, classes are run in all kinds of combat (there’s a rumour that the Grandmaster has on occassion brought down the Sacred Frying Pan and taught students how to wield it to break bone) as well as languages, mechanics, anything that there’s someone willing to teach (we are stronger together, we learn from each other, each different in the Force but each a part of it).
3. When Grandmaster (Force but he hates that title still)) Obi-Wan puts together a council to drown in paperwork Plo and Tholme are his first victims chosen - Plo Koon is going to be the head of the Council because reasons, and then he has a thought that would make the old Jedi council faint dead away and appoints 3 non-Jedi (possibly including a former handmaiden to Queen Amidala) to the council. To make up the 6 to a total of 9 he also asks for Knights and Senior Padawans to take a 3-month stint in the council chairs t get the representation of the younger generation to make sure they aren’t being a bunch stuffy hide bound idiots
.4. Master Yoda is given the title of Pan-Liason which involves a ceremony where Obi-Wan “knights” him with the frying pan. Yoda grumbles, Obi-Wan is pleased as anything and takes great delight in presenting his Great-Grandmaster with a minature replica frying pan a perfect fit for the old trolls hands.
(THIS IS A BLOODY FANTASTIC AU AND YOU ALL ARE AMAZING!!)