Bodhi <3

Reblogs are appreciated <3

Bodhi <3

Reblogs are appreciated <3

I will always reblog Bodhi art. I love this man so much.

RIZ AHMED photographed by Daeja Fallas

riz ahmed being the first muslim director to ever win an oscar, by directing a short film which was specifically about islamaphobia, and then making a speech saying “the role of story is to remind us that there is no us and them. there is just us. this is for everyone who feels like they don’t belong, anyone who feels like they’re stuck in no man’s land. you’re not alone. we’ll meet you there. that’s where the future is.” and NONE of it was live streamed so nobody got to SEE this monumental moment happen, and not even all the attendees were there yet because the academy prioritised red carpet outfits over ACTUAL WINNERS OF CRAFT… it leaves a very bad taste in my mouth and makes me incredibly angry, gonna be real

definitely a favorite for sure, loved writing this one ! @uwingdispatch 💜

A Little Bodhi x Reader Excerpt

The writing is slow going for me today, daylight savings is kicking my ass. But I wanted to share a little excerpt from the Bodhi x Reader piece I’m working on that I’ll hopefully have finished by the end of the week. In this scene Bodhi has just rushed across town to meet the reader who is having a panic attack on the patio outside a fancy grocery store.

There’s no way Bodhi didn’t take some sketchy route into town—he arrives at least twenty minutes sooner than he should have, likely taking his speeder bike way too fast down alleys and through parks to get to you.

To look at Bodhi, one wouldn’t think he’d be a risk-taker. He’s shy, careful, deeply anxious—until someone he cares about needs him to be bold. When his U-Wing went down over Endor, it took two hours for him to report in and you’d been braced for the worst. But he and an astromech had spent those two hours pulling to safety the five other crew members—three humans, a Sullustan, and a gonk droid—who were trapped in the wreckage. There were a lot of injuries, some serious. But everyone survived.

When Bodhi pulls up along the shop’s patio he scrambles off the speeder toward the bench where you’ve been waiting. You almost don’t notice him, with your head balanced in your hands, and you ears ringing. But his voice pulls you back into the moment as he softly speaks your name.

“I’m here, love,” he says, kneeling. “Can you look at me?”

You lift your head, tears of relief welling in your eyes.

“Bodhi,” you say, almost in a whisper. “You drive like a maniac.”

“Are you okay?” He takes your hands in his as you meet his gaze. “Just look at me, love. Focus on me. Breathe.”

You nod, taking steady breaths, looking into Bodhi’s warm brown eyes. His hair has come loose from where he’s tied it back and a few strands are caught in the wind. You reach for his face, tuck the loose hair behind his ears. “Keep talking,” you say. “I just need to hear your voice.”

Bodhi sits with you on the bench, moving your tote full of groceries aside. “I brought your tablets,” he says. “If you need one. Wasn’t sure if you had any in your purse.”

“Thank you,” you say, taking the bottle from him and tapping out one pill, swallowing it with water from your canteen.

Bodhi starts poking through the grocery tote. “Ooh, you got the fizzy drinks from Naboo. You know I love those.”

You smile. “Of course I did. And those cookies with the chocolate in the middle.”

“You spoil me,” he says. “Do you remember the first time we had chocolate?”

“I was just thinking about that day,” you say. “I can’t believe I lived so much of my life without it. Can you imagine?”

“I’d never even seen it before. It was so scarce during the occupation. And now we can just pop into a shop. I still don’t know where the hell Baze found it but he always seemed to have a stash of something back then.”

“He still does,” you say, with a laugh.

Bodhi kisses your forehead, cradles your face in his hand, brushes his thumb over your check. “That’s it, darling. I love to hear you laugh.”

🤗 yes so excited for this one ! xo

RIZ AHMED 93rd Academy Awards, Los Angeles › April 25, 2021

hope you like this one my friend ! Bodhi is one of my favorites, I always love to imagine him some place calm, safe & sound. & also loved reading about the food, & hope I got it right. 💙

phone lockscreen version below ✨

Relief in Winter

Relief in Winter

When you curled up on your office sofa with you datapad to read, you had no intention of falling asleep. But when the front door closes you snap awake, startled. In a daze, you realize the sun is still bright as it comes through the curtains. He shouldn’t be home until after dark today, but he’s here, and in such a hurry to get to you that he nearly trips over the ball droid rolling in with him.

“You’re home early,” you say, still trying to find your way out of sleep.

The tooka cat dozing at the end of the sofa chirps and stretches before leaping to greet Bodhi and the droid, Red. Normally, Bodhi would stop to scratch the tooka between his ears before making his way into the kitchen and draping his bag and his jacket over a chair. Today, he seems frazzled, bypassing the tooka and kitchen, dropping his bag on the floor, and coming straight to you.

“I was worried when you didn’t answer your com,” he says. “I should have left Red home with you today. Are you all right?”

The droid beeps, alerting you to the datapad and com that at some point had drifted from your lap to the office floor.

There were people in your past who would have come through that door angry, assuming you’d ignored their calls. Or who would not have even noticed that your panic attacks had been worse lately, the dizziness and nausea overwhelming your body. Wouldn’t have noticed how the rainy weather exacerbated the stiffness in your joints. Now you feel a little guilty, knowing that, with Pao out of town this week, Bodhi would have had to close the shop early to come home and check on you.

The tooka gives up on garnering Bodhi’s affections and makes his way to the window where wind-struck tree branches have been tapping the transparisteel. You shift your body upright, ignoring the ache in your back, making space for Bodhi as he sits next to you on the plush sofa. He cups your cheek in his hand, his palms rough and calloused not just from the war, but from years of tinkering, learning to fix things. Sometimes you think, with a smile, that the only thing he’d never try to fix is you.  

“Are you okay, love?”

Still drowsy, you hadn’t realized you hadn’t answered him yet. “Yes. I’m sorry. I must have been asleep.”

Red picks up your com and chirps. It’s completely drained of power. “That’s not like you,” Bodhi says, drawing your body toward his. “Usually I’m the one who forgets to charge everything. Did something happen? I was so frightened yesterday. I just—I want to make sure you’re safe.”

Yesterday you nearly passed out, your anxiety triggered by something you still can’t put your finger on. And that trigger set your body down a path you could no longer control. You were frightened, too. But so grateful that you weren’t alone, that when you lost your balance you had someone to help you to your bed where you could ride this wave out safely. He held you the whole time.

You lean into his chest, lay your head on Bodhi’s shoulder, consider the months after Life Day and the dark of winter. The losses you’ve both experienced seem to echo in your chest a little louder right now. And of course, all this rain.

“No, I don’t think so,” you say. “This is just a difficult time of year.”

“I know.”

Bodhi presses a kiss to your forehead, his hair—having come loose from where he’s braided it back—brushing your cheek.

He takes it hard when you’re not well. Despite his own scars from the war—so many of them invisible—he tends to shoulder the scars of his loved ones as well. Together you’ve both learned that sometimes bodies just fall apart, that illness just is. And while he has reminded you so many times that you’re not broken, sometimes he needs reminding that your pain is not his personal failure.

He likes to say he fell in love with you the day he tripped over your boots and nearly landed in your lap. You were at you desk, working on a stack of jackets for new Rebel Alliance recruits, and you liked to sew with your shoes off, to better feel the pedal of the machine in your stocking feet. Bodhi didn’t know this about you yet, nor that you had a reputation for a messy work area. He tried to stabilize himself on a pile of finished garments at the end of the desk, but it was you who caught him, one arm reaching for him, and the other deftly relocating your cup of caf.

When everything finally stopped moving, you looked up and laughed. “You’re early,” you said. “But that’s okay. I just finished yours.”

You joke that met his jacket before you met him. And that day, as you put the finished jacket in Bodhi’s hands, when your fingers touched, you knew you had to know more than this man’s jacket measurements. It was slower for you, but he swears that’s when he fell in love.

Since then you’ve learned better than to doubt him when he tells you this sort of thing. The moments that made him fall for you, the little compliments, the gestures of kindness. You’ve learned that when he says he’s worried, it actually means he’s worried. It’s not a platitude. And you’ve learned that when you bought this little house together on Chandrila after the war it was because you were as much his home as he was yours. “Today is a better day than yesterday,” you tell him. “There’s no rain. And I’m glad you’re home.”

Bodhi shrugs out of his jacket—the very same jacket that precipitated your meeting—and wraps a strong arm around you. It’s like a tether back into the present moment, your mind and body finding each other after hours spent drifting away.

He doesn’t fly as much now, not the big ships. There’s the occasional relief mission he’ll pilot for the New Republic, and he’ll take your small transport out recreationally. But he says he’d rather be here on the ground, connected to the planet, getting his hands dirty. So when his Drabatan comrade Pao proposed the idea of a droid repair shop to help with all the work that would be needed as displaced veterans and their families settled there after the war, Bodhi ran with it.

The little shop isn’t far from the house, and he often comes home with grease under his fingernails, occasionally a streak on his face that in his exhaustion he hasn’t noticed. When they opened that shop you made him promise that he wasn’t giving up a career as a pilot to stay closer to you. He promised. It took a while, but eventually you believed him.

“An old astromech came in last month,” he says. “Pao said the guy was just selling her to us for scrap, and I didn’t want to say anything right away because she was so badly damaged and Pao had to track down some seriously rare parts. But…I’d like to bring her home tomorrow. For you. If that’s okay.”

“Are you serious?”

“She’s a C1-series. I can’t remember the last time I saw a C1—” he pauses and takes a deep breath. “The important thing is that we found some basic first aid programming. And she’s sweet.

“Where are you going with this?” you ask.

“I think it might be nice, to have some help here. Or wherever. So you’ll always be safe.”

“A sweet C1-unit?”

“I know. It surprised me, too.”

“I don’t know what to say,” you tell him.

“That’s okay, love,” he says. “Just tell me what you decide.”

Bodhi takes your hand and gives it a squeeze before he gets up from the sofa. Soon you hear him checking on the stew he started in the slow cooker this morning before he left for work. There are tears forming in your eyes.

Easing yourself out of your cozy spot on the couch you make your way to your sewing cabinet and retrieve a box. Inside that box is a hooded cardigan, something you spent months working on, little by little. First the patterning, then finding the perfect, most soft and warm fabric, and then the sewing, the putting it together, the making it perfect for him.

He’d seen something similar at an artisan market on Naboo the last time you were able to take a vacation, but decided it was too pricey. When he changed his mind and went back for it the next day, they’d been sold out.

You bring the box back out to the living room, where he’s re-seated himself with a cup of tea and a knitted blanket.

“I was saving this for a special occasion,” you tell him. “But I don’t think I can hold onto it for another minute.” He takes it out of the box and puts it on immediately, like you knew he would.

“This is so nice,” he says, rubbing the edge of the fabric between his fingers. “When did you make this?”

“A while ago. I’m glad you like it.”

“So is this a yes on the droid?”

“Yeah,” you say. “It is.”

Bodhi pulls you down onto the couch and when you lean into his warm kiss it’s with a lightness you haven’t felt in years, a feeling of security and relief you once thought you’d never feel again. You throw your arms around his neck and run a finger over the small ring on your left hand. This is real, you remind yourself. You and your partner and the little droid rolling down the hall to his charging station. The tooka cat now suddenly at your feet. The fragrant stew simmering in the kitchen. A part of you always felt this sort of peace was impossible. But here you are, and it is real.

this brought so much comfort & loving calm to my heart, exactly what I needed right now. 🙏 '

A part of you always felt this sort of peace was impossible. But here you are, and it is real.'

so lovely to imagine that bodhi finally found a peaceful life that he deserves ! xo 🌼💛

Riz Ahmed＠British GQ - December 2021 / January 2022.

Oh, my goodness gracious. Can I hug you?

ABSOLUTE PERFECTION

🥺 seeing this just made my day, thank you so much 🌼💛 !

Riz Ahmed＠British GQ - December 2021 / January 2022.

RIZ AHMED 2021 | Paola Kudacki ph. for Variety

RIZ AHMED 2021 | Paola Kudacki ph. for Variety