@residentmiddlechild / residentmiddlechild.tumblr.com
Anger issues.
✨🌙 ART LOG -> @404ama
Okokok, this is based on a dialogue from a fanfic I read a year or so ago but I cannot find the fanfic or the author anymore. I just remember this scene which i really liked and wanted to draw it :(
@amarcia the fic this is from is Joyride!
An amazing fic which is so incredibly complex and beautiful. No wonder this line stuck out to you.
The reason I don't write Star Wars prequel fanfic is that I know I will never write anything as good as the Revenge of the Sith novelization
well, ao3's broken for me, so here I am posting my Rebels shit 'cause of the latest Ahsoka episode.
WE GOT OUR BOY (i was going to have here that one GIF from goblet of fire but couldn't find it. well.)
here's those ideal circumstances we will never have in series but always have in our heads. enjoy reunion of Hera and her eldest son.
He could feel his anticipation like it was coursing through his veins instead of blood. It burned inside of him, as if it was a small sun, fit into his chest and his very eyes shined brighter with this glow of unpatiened happiness.
It was selfish of him, of course. He felt so much, that every jedi of old would call him a failure.
Well, Kanan would be proud.
Ezra was standing in the cockpit of Ahsoka's ship, glued into place, as he watched familiar views move beside them. Even stars, so different there, looked like they glimmered welcoming him home. Ezra could feel tears forming somewhere in his eyes, air stuck in his throat.
This pure, overwhelming happiness, in which he was caught up for a short moment, Ezra knew was soon to fade. But Sabine's eyes, watching him closely, her smile, told him it was alright to be a happy dumbass for a moment. Even, maybe, for a while. She was there to support him, as she always did.
Ahsoka was speaking, giving the codes and securing their landing, but Ezra could not find himself composed enough to listen. It was like he was a kid again - not that man he grew up to be in Rebellion, and all those lonely years on the witches' planet, but a small child on Lothal, who was just given the best gift any child could wish for.
"Ahsoka? Are you there?"
Ezra's eyes darted to the communication device and his breath would be caught if only he had been breathing for the last minute.
"Greetings, General Syndulla," smiled Ahsoka, squinting on her companions. "I think it is for the best if you meet us in the angars."
"Ezra", Ezra started, hearing Sabine's quiet whisper. "Breathe."
Ezra nodded, a bit frantically, and took a deep breath. Sabine took one with him, very obvious so he could see it. Ezra huffed a little laugh and Ahsoka smiled, looking at them.
"I brought your kids."
***
Ezra was feeling like he was about to burst. Sabine was hovering around him, never too far, like she was afraid to let him go of her eyesight, but would never admit it. He could understand that - he was doing the same, up until this one moment, where everything around demanded his attention, otherwise it would be gone. Ezra was being torn apart by the very world around him, he wanted to go and hug every one person who looked vaguely familiar, he wanted to go and touch every ship that had any resemblance to the coridors he saw in his dreams for the last decade. It was all so unreal, and he needed to see, to feel every thing, to prove himself that it wasn't his optimistic hope that was keeping him alive for all those years.
Ezra took another breath, when Sabine moved closer, lightly brushing his hand with her fingers to catch his attention. He looked at her, still overwhelmed. Sabine watched his eyes closely and smiled again.
"Ready?"
Ezra smiled.
"Always has been."
Ahsoka walked out first, Sabine after her, but Ezra hesitated a bit. He needed to make this step - one step and it all is real. Not one of his dreams, composed of Force and imagination, but firm and steady reality.
"Here we go..." he whispered under his breath, taking a step towards Sabine, who was waiting for him on the ramp.
"Need a hand?" she smiled, watching him walk, and Ezra huffed a laugh back.
"Nah, pretty sure my legs're fine." His voice was a bit off, however. Because there, a handful meters away, stood another ship. Big and old, somewhere renewed, somewhere still chipping paint like it was on repair after a bit too harsh flight. VCX-100 light freighter it was - modified, of course, painted differently, and Ezra knew for a fact that if it needed to go anywhere undetected it would.
"Ghost," he breathed out, moving towards it, enchanted. Sabine followed him, still smiling.
"It had a few new modification since you were gone," she said quietly, watching as his fingers brush against painted metal. Ezra stood there, embracing the feeling of cold surface causing light vibration of memory in his very being.
"I feel like it hasn't changed a bit," he muttered in awe, turning to Sabine. She laughed quietly, letting him have this moment.
"Oh trust me, it has." she smiled. "You can ask-"
"SABINE!"
They both turned their heads sharply on the sound of the voice, and Sabine cringed a bit, like a kid who was caught by their parent.
"Hey, Hera..." she waved, walking into the light from the Ghost's shadow in which they stood.
Ezra once again forgot how to breathe. It was becoming a bad habit he had to deal with later, but at that moment he stood under the familiar hull of Ghost, and it felt like ship was welcoming him too, covering him, like a big animal. And Ezra stood there, watching with his widely opened eyes, as familiar figure, half-relieved, half-furious, was fastly walking towards Sabine.
"You are in such big trouble, young lady!" Hera's voice echoed in his ears, bringing back so many memories they threatened to drown him. However, Hera brought Sabine close, hugging her hard before continuing her rant. Sabine used this chance to look back at Ezra and call him over with a nod.
Ezra felt like Ghost let him walk from under it, as if it had a wing under which it hid this boy, who once lived there. Moving to light felt like he was crossing some invisible line, that was keeping him alone for last ten years, and he finally wasn't.
He didn't know what to say, when Hera turned around and saw him, freezing in place with her mouth agape. So he just smiled at her.
She was eyeing him, head to toe, before finally moving closer and putting her hands on his shoulders first, then his cheek. He leaned into the sensation, as a kid who came home after cold winter walk.
"Ezra..." Hera breathed out. "It's you, it's... It's really you..."
She touched his hair, his scar, his clothes, and he could only smile.
"Hi, Hera."
In his mind this word had no other meaning - it was that person, who cared about him, who would protect him from anything, who loved him even when he was the most annoying rascal you could find on the Outer Rim. It was "Hera". It was so close to "mother".
Her lips and lashes were quivering, her fingers grip his shoulders. She looked up at him - was he taller than her? he forgot. - and let out a watery laugh.
"You smell horrible."
"I know," he laughed back, shrugging. "Ten years of surviving in different galaxy do that to people."
She shook her head lightly before pulling him in a tight hug.
"I'm sorry, Ezra, I'm so sorry..." she muttered, petting his hair. He only shook his head in turn, before answering.
"It's okay. It wasn't you, who made me go there," he let out a quiet laugh. "I'm so happy so see you. I missed you so much."
She pulled back a bit, blinking her tears away and looked at him once more.
"You grew up so much," Hera whispered and her voice sounded strangled. "We all missed you, Ezra, you don't even know. And I'm so proud of you, my boy, I'm so happy to have you back."
He laughed again, like it was all he could do - relief was shining in him, making him want to laugh like it was the end of the world. And then he would inevitably cry. So when he felt tears escape his eyes, he was not surprised. Before he could wipe him away, Hera raised her palm, put it on his scarred cheek and wiped them with her thumb.
"Welcome home, Ezra..."
He smiled again, before letting Hera pull him into another hug.
If someone wrote a star wars au where they didn’t find Anakin until he was like 19 and he’s taught himself how to use the force. When they did find him, they proceeded to be like “He must be a sith! He can use the force!” Followed by a court case which they do in front of the senate.
Random Jedi: “how do you know how to use the force?”
Anakin, who’s been up since 2 and is done with this bs; “what like it’s hard?”
Edit: someone actually liked this idea and @clawedandcute is writing one similar to this but originally from this headcannon :D
😊😊😊😊 forever thankful you let me use it
@residentmiddlechild if you’re talking to me (idk sorry lol) it’s already up in and in progress! Accidental Sith AU, linked in my pinned post.
@clawedandcute (yes I was) thank you so much!!!
If someone wrote a star wars au where they didn’t find Anakin until he was like 19 and he’s taught himself how to use the force. When they did find him, they proceeded to be like “He must be a sith! He can use the force!” Followed by a court case which they do in front of the senate.
Random Jedi: “how do you know how to use the force?”
Anakin, who’s been up since 2 and is done with this bs; “what like it’s hard?”
Edit: someone actually liked this idea and @clawedandcute is writing one similar to this but originally from this headcannon :D
😊😊😊😊 forever thankful you let me use it
Inspired by a fic on AO3!
The idea of their kid being a redhead is cute, but I can’t help but picture their kid being brunette since dark hair is a dominant gene—plus the aww factor of the kid looking a little more like Din makes me want to pass away thx
For fuck’s sake, where is the fic where Obi-Wan tries to protect Mace but ends up taking the hit for him, saving his life, and Mace protects them both until help arrives and then Mace gets introspective about how loyal the Jedi are to him and how much they love and trust him and how honored he is but at the same time how humbling because he knows they have followed and will follow him to the ends of the galaxy and beyond even if it gets them killed because they have that much faith in him and the force and he knows their faith is not blind and neither is his but he will always respect them and never take his Order for granted or his responsibility to them lightly and then he’s at Obi-Wan’s bedside thinking about how Obi-Wan had called him Master and he remembers when Obi-Wan was so young and thinks about how far he’s come and how far he has to go and even though they’re on more equal footing now Obi-Wan still looks up to him and Mace still knows that he had a hand in raising that kid and when Obi-Wan wakes up Mace is ready to lecture him about what he did even though he’s heard it before and Obi-Wan is his cheeky self and says he would do it again and Mace wants to reprimand him but also gives him a very sincere thank you and Obi-Wan tells him always, but that last always reaffirms everything Mace had thought about and Mace gives him a gentle nudge back into rest with a hand on his shoulder and the Force behind his words and Mace knows that he would have had the same interaction with any Jedi and he looks down at Obi-Wan and he sees all of the Jedi
The thing about Togrutas is that they're never quiet.
General Skywalker doesn't notice, and it takes a couple months for Rex to figure out that it's because he can't hear the sounds the Commander is making. The other clones can. Must be some kind of enhanced hearing; who knows what the Kaminoans did?
It's usually little chirps, but when the Commander is happy, it becomes a purring noise. As she gets older, taller, the sounds deepen.
He's heard her snarl as she leads the men into battle more than once. He's seen her hold wounded and dying men, trilling softly as she promises it's okay, the medic is coming, you'll be fine.
There was one time that the General got shot in a skirmish. He survived, but for a moment, when they first saw him lying on the ground, they all assumed the worst. Rex will never forget the cry Commander Tano made that day. (Some of the men standing closest to her came to medbay with bleeding ears.)
But he's never heard a sound like this.
It's a keening wail, ear-splitting, heart-breaking, tearing across the empty wastes as she drops to her knees in front of the hundreds of bodies and screams.
He can't bring himself to ask for the truth, but he knows she's mourning for more than these dead men.
Rex waits until she's cried all her tears out, then approaches her.
Together, they bury the 332nd.
Dude
This is… so good. Oh my gosh
Are you gonna post this on A03?
Happy Summer.
Inspired by the Summer Solstice. In a softer world, Padme Amidala shares her summer garden with all of her family.
Story available at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365472/chapters/46075183
The child cries, a high, keening sound. Not from hunger or exhaustion; Qui-Gon has learned the child’s distinctive sounds and knows the fretful cry he makes when he is sleepy, and the high-pitched wail he makes from hunger. This is different.
This is the sound of grief.
Qui-Gon understands. He remembers when he made this same sound, when his own world had shattered apart.
Qui-Gon rocks the child on his bunk, back and forth, back and forth. Strokes the soft cheek and reddish-blonde hair, thinking, I never held my padawan this way. I never held him. Not until the very end of his life, when he had rocked Obi-Wan’s body until the boy lay still in his arms.
You took everything from me , he had accused the Force, crumpled and grief-stricken on the floor by the plasma core, as eerie violet light shifted across his padawan’s pale, still face. That boy was all I had, and you took him.
But the Force is everything, and nothing; all Jedi know this. Qui-Gon had made an oath to surrender all that he had to offer, and the Force had accepted.
So Qui-Gon walks the child up and down the ship’s cabin, rubbing his back and murmuring in the boy’s ear. He does not offer reassurances or platitudes. This child has lost all he has ever known, mother and homeworld and culture, and he has lost even that which he has never known.
His father.
So Qui-Gon tucks the child’s head against his shoulder, and shares in his grief.
~~~
Leia woke up late to the sound of wailing.
Ben’s wailing, coming from the living quarters.
Karabast, she muttered under her breath. What time was it?
She checked her chrono. 1230.
Ugh. Again?
Blinking back the sleep that threatened to pull her under once more, she groaned as she sat up.
Ben’s cries came more fiercely now, mixed with a few choice babbled syllables he’d been trying on for size lately. The cold, empty spot beside her in bed told her Han was out there with him. That was a relief. Their son had an escape artist streak; at least this time he wasn’t crawling around the house all on his own, looking to see how much trouble he could get into. Still, her heart sank. They were all about equal parenting, but it seemed like Han had been shouldering the greater burden as of late.
She fixed her eyes on the light streaming through the window, trying to get them to adjust. It didn’t really help. Her head still hurt; the room was still blurry. She forced herself to get up anyway.
Han looked at her apologetically when she finally lurched into the living quarters. “I was tryin’ to let you sleep,” he said. “I guess this little ruffian had other ideas. ‘M sorry, sweetheart.” Inexplicably, Ben had already stopped crying; he was now contentedly perched on Han’s hip, tugging at his hair.
“I’m sorry, Han, I should have been up hours ago; I should never have made you take care of Ben this long—”
“Hey,” he interrupted, acting affronted. “Made me? I chose to spend time with this little guy.” He ruffled Ben’s hair. “Besides, you needed to get some rest.”
She didn’t argue; she was too tired, and it would be a losing battle, anyway. He knew she’d been staying up half the night lately, unable to sleep. For no good reason, she thought angrily. It wasn’t so much that she couldn’t get any sleep when she lay down; it was that somehow, dragging herself into bed seemed like a near impossible task. She’d distract herself with pointless research or dumb holonet shows, watching the hours tick by, too weary to go through her bedtime rituals, too anxious to let her mind rest. Too afraid to face the possibility of another nightmare.
“Rest is overrated,” she grumbled. “I need some caf.”
She headed for the kitchen, but Han stepped in her way. “I’ve got it, sweetheart. You go sit down.”
She tried to step around him, but he blocked her again. Her ire spiked. “Han, stop it.”
“Go sit down.”
“Why? How incapable do you think I am? Last I checked, I don’t have the virus.”
“Leia—”
“Just let me do it.”
He raised his free arm placatingly. “Okay. Sure.” He stepped aside, frowning. She had probably pissed him off, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She stepped into the kitchen and fumbled around in the cabinets for the ground caf. There wasn’t much left in the container, she noted with alarm. She should have ordered some more days ago. The way everything was in the galaxy right now, it would take forever to arrive. Somehow, the prospect of less caf over the coming days made her feel breathless, almost dizzy. She leaned against the counter, trying to get ahold of herself.
She was almost always on edge these days. Funny how the end of her time as a soldier didn’t signal the end of that. Truth be told, she didn’t know how to stop being that way.
It had gotten better, for a time—it had taken awhile for things to settle down before she had Ben, and in the meantime her Jedi training had helped her learn new techniques to calm herself (even if it simultaneously stirred up some deeper fears). Then there was that honeymoon phase of life with their new little family, that shaky and awkward but ultimately hopeful step she and Han had taken together into new territory. It had been a deeply happy experience overall, even if hard at times. Being together was a gift, thanks to a galaxy newly at peace, and she had treasured this weird, messy, beautiful, strangely domestic era in their life. She would miss it, when it was gone.
But all the same, she yearned to get back to work. She felt in her bones that she still had more to give to the galaxy, if only she had the opportunity. Han was itching to get back in the cockpit, too. It was past time to forge a new normal with her family, where they could all be who they fully were as they found new ways to grow and love together.
Apparently the galaxy had different plans.
During her parental leave, she’d taken time off because she chose to, and she’d been okay with that. She’d never expected this pandemic to come in later and take so many choices away. When people started getting sick on Corellia, no one had guessed how quickly it would spread, stopping the whole galaxy in its tracks. They’d been quarantining now for almost a month, and she didn’t know how much longer she could stand it. She even found herself missing the polite, insistent prattling of her protocol droid, T-2LC, who lately more often than not sat powered down in their home office with nothing to do.
Unfortunately, even if it weren’t for the pandemic, she had still been semi-exiled from the Republic government. Oh, it wasn’t as though it were official or anything—people still treated her with utmost respect, and she still counted several of those in leadership, Mon Mothma and Ackbar in particular, as dear friends. But the truth of the matter was that she had been gradually, quietly sidelined, ever since Kashyyyk. She did not regret in the slightest her actions at the time, but her angry outbursts and rogue behavior were not forgotten. The new government had truly taken off after the Battle of Jakku, right around the time Ben was born, and she had missed out on much of that formative time. After her parental leave was over, she had simply not been invited back.
That hurt.
Despite all that, she’d done her best to liason with the Alderaanian remnant, to take care of their needs and ensure they had adequate representation on Chandrila. In fact, she still had work to do on that, even if the virus had put much on hold.
But lately, she’d been doing nothing. She’d just been sitting around at home: restless, fatigued, and oddly enough, terrified.
This is so, so good. I love what Han says — that sometimes fighting looks like rest, and just getting through the day. I feel for Leia and how she is terrified that this is the new her. I love that Han has learned because he’s struggled too. (And baby Ben is so cute here!) It’s lovely.
Thank you SO much @lajulie24! That means a whole lot 💙
I wrote something for the first time in a decade! It's short and fluffy because that's all I can handle with the current state of the world!
A commission for @pleasereylo ‘s fic “falcon and hummingbird“
You can read it here https://archiveofourown.org/works/34189771/chapters/85072177
Anakin finished tightening a bolt and shook the wrench at Obi-wan. “I told you the ships around here have a problem. Crashing is not just my fault.” He frowned a little, noticing his former master looked a little worse for wear. “You weren’t hurt though, right?”
Obi-wan pulled his robe tighter around himself. “I’m sorry about the Twilight.”
Anakin hit his head on the rim of a speeder. “Wait. You crashed the Twilight!?”
“Yes,” Obi-wan admitted. “I borrowed it. I didn’t think you would mind, but now that I can’t return it—”
“I don’t mind,” Anakin interrupted what was sure to be a lengthy apology. “Why did you take that old junker instead of your own ship though?”
“Because I couldn’t go to Mandalore as a Jedi, or even as a representative of the Republic. I had to go as a friend. I almost didn’t take my lightsa—”
“Hold up,” Anakin growled. He thought about the whispers he had been overhearing in the temple that morning. “Isn’t Mandalore a major conflict zone now? And you went there alone?”
Another thought occurred to him as Obi-wan’s last words registered, and he rounded on the older man. “Were you about to say that you almost didn’t take your lightsaber?”
“Well, I couldn’t use it, not until there was reason for things to become Jedi business. I did take it in the end.”
Anakin snorted. Worry and incredulousness clashed in his stomach, creating an explosive mix. “You’re the one that is always saying our lightsabers are our life. How could you even think about not taking it?”
“I already told you, I couldn’t go as a Jedi. The Council said not to go, that we couldn’t get involved. We didn’t now Maul was there.”
“You went against the Council?” Anakin would have laughed if the darksider that wanted his master dead hadn’t come up. “And you say I’m the reckless one! Maul could have killed you!”
“I’m sorry about your ship,” Obi-wan whispered. “I’ll make it up to you.” He turned and slowly walked away.
Anakin could only stare after him, confused at how his mentor could apologize about the lost piece of junk when he himself had just lost something so precious.
Me, vibing in the #Dead Palpatine tag on ao3:
Oh my God, I did a thing.
