I’ve been thinking a lot about Obi-Wan’s reunion with Satine after the Deception arc in Clone Wars lately. I don’t seem to be able to actually bring myself to write a scene about it, so I’ve just been making a bunch of sketches, and I figured I might as well dump them.
I took two from each year this has been going on! It has actually been running for three years my mistake. I thought it was only two years. I added free day at the end since we don’t have time to vote and I want to make sure everyone has a chance to write at least one thing they really love!
Explanations for each prompt.
Regret- This is pretty clear I think. Anything Obi-Wan or Satine may have regretted or anything else related to both the feeling of regret and Obitine. (Perhaps a bad guy “regrets” crossing them if you’re looking for a happier story. Or there’s the good old angst we Obitines are known for.)
What Could Have Been- Also known as the AU prompt. Any story that doesn’t quite fit into what we know of canon. Whether it’s Star Wars setting and simply different choices were made or whether it’s a completely different universe, anything goes.
Young Love- Ah, young dumb teens (or young adults depending on your head canon of the famous Mandalore mission) in love! Young love is sweet, often annoying, and especially with these two, likely to be a drama fest! Time to use your headcanons and make these two crazy kids fall in love or have a good time!
Dreams/Nightmares- Pretty vague, open to interpretation. Can of course go either fluffy or angsty with this one. Something to do with the strange things our brains do when we’re sleeping.
Family/Friends- Bring in the whole gang with this one! Padme, Anakin, Bo-Katan, Korkie, Qui-Gon, anyone you want! Any of them or only one of those people. What do they know of this relationship, if anything? And what do they think about it?
Numbers- (Actually my way of combining a few different prompts) Any event they experienced that is significant because of the number of times it has happened! Maybe it’s never! A first kiss, a first date, a first time. Or maybe it’s a second chance to make things work! Hey you could do anything with numbers and it will count! You want to make them celebrate their tenth anniversary? You are valid and it will count.
Free Day- It’s a free day! Write anything you want! If it makes you happy it’s fair game! You can also reuse any prompts from earlier years you really liked.
I made most of these purposely open so that there’s guidance and theme but still plenty of space to make this week your own! Since we didn’t have time to vote on prompts this year I thought making them vague would be best.
SUMMARY: (So this is a totally contrived Obitine pile of trash that was a complete guilty pleasure to write. If you’re looking for a little Obi-Wan/Duchess interaction with eventual smut, then read on!)
When Obi-Wan is gravely injured during a botched rescue operation, he turns to Mandalore for sanctuary. Reunited with Satine after months of separation, the Jedi and his Duchess find it difficult to resist their desires.
A bit of blood and violence, some merciless flirting, and some classy smut.
He knew full well that Satine enjoyed teasing him, that she liked to needle away at his self-control and elicit a response that gratified her. What she did not know was that he took equal pleasure in doing the same to her. He had grown to love slowly working her into a frenzy until she was nearly delirious with desire.
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HELPFUL NOTES BEFORE YOU BEGIN:
Ever notice those delightful scrapes, scratches, and bruises Obi-Wan occasionally has in The Clone Wars? Think Landing at Point Rain or Revenge. Some of us find that particularly appealing on Master Kenobi, so that’s been included here.
And if you’re like me, you’ve always kind of wondered what that base-layer/black undershirt is like that Obi-Wan wears under his tunic… Click Here or Here for a reminder of what this looks like. We explore that a tiny bit.
This guilty pleasure trash heap was completely inspired by this delightful piece of fan art. May the gods bless this artist!
I also use some Mando’a words/phrases. Please see the end notes for translations.
I dedicate this story to my friend and favorite snowflake!
Now that Obitine Week 2018 has been announced (September 24-30) I think it’s a good time to reshare this story.
WOUNDED JEDI is a hurt/comfort fic full of all my favorite tropes!! LOL!! Obi-Wan being cute with little kids, Obi-Wan getting hurt, Obi-Wan needing Satine and Anakin but only admitting it when he’s delirious and his guard is down. This is as fluffy as I get. There’s clever flirting and tasteful, mature content that is not explicit but it still fun… (Am I allowed to give that kind of opinion on my own work??? LOL)
If you’ve never read it before, please give it a try and let me know what you think.
If you’ve already read it, perhaps you’d like to read it again???? (•‿•) I’d love to know how you liked it. Maybe you would even be so kind as to tell a friend about it or share it onto your blog??
Hi guys, here’s a super fun commission I just finished up for @drunkkenobi! ❤ She requested a role-reversal image of Obi-Wan and Satine fighting together back-to-back, with Satine as a Jedi and Obi-Wan as Duke of Mandalore.
I got to adapt Satine’s first TCW outfit for him, and also I got to use crazy 80s neon lighting (aka the BEST lighting) so this was a really great experience all round!
It’s no secret that much of Obitine is made up of headcanons and speculation. Lately, with the hype of the new season, I’ve been thinking of ways they could subtly insert it into the canon without messing up the reputation they have created for Kenobi.
I think I came to it – and it wouldn’t be in the cartoon – or subtle really, depending who had control over it.
I would like to believe it would take place in a comic set in the Clone Wars era.
It’s nighttime on Coruscant. Various scenes are shown – Ahsoka doing homework with Barriss and Luminara, the clones at 99’s, Anakin and Padmé eating dinner, a few members of the High Council meditating, Quinlan and Bant reuniting in the hangar…
With each panel, we read the exchange Padmé and Anakin had while traveling to Naboo in AotC.
“Are you allowed to love?…I thought it was forbidden for a Jedi.”
“Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi’s life, so you might say we’re encouraged to love.”
Then a panel to an apartment building – not Padmé’s or the Temple. We see various things in the room – a discarded robe over the sofa, abandoned dishes on the dining room table, a wine bottle on a kitchen counter.
We go to the bedroom, where we see Satine’s headdress on a stand, and her typical dress peeking from a closet. In the corner, we see a figure on a window ledge talking into a comlink.
Next panel: Obi-Wan is revealed to be on the window ledge, Coruscant behind as he talks, arm resting over his knee. He’s either in an undertunic, or shirtless. (If he doesn’t have a tattoo somewhere that would make me sad)
He’s speaking to Mace. “Cad Bane? That’s certainly worrisome.”
Mace sighs. “Quinlan Vos has been unable to obtain much information about this plot – he came back this evening.”
“You’re asking me to use my less savory contacts?” Obi-Wan grins, running a hair through his somewhat mussed hair. “I’ll contact Dex in the morning.”
“We need you to leave before noon, Obi-Wan. Can you do that?”
Obi-Wan glances over the hologram to the bed, where we clearly see Satine beginning to wake up. He looks back to Mace. “Certainly.”
Mace raises his eyebrows, but ultimately bows his head and ends the transmission.
Obi-Wan sighs, putting the comlink beside him and glancing out the window.
“You have to leave in the morning?” Satine asks off-panel.
“It looks that way, my dear.” Obi-Wan turns his head and smiles at her approaching form (can’t figure out what she’s wearing).
Satine puts her hand on his shoulder, not reacting when he kisses the inside of her wrist.
“What?” Obi-Wan murmurs wearily.
“Can’t they give you one night’s rest?”
“We’re at war.”
She rolls her eyes. “Spoken like a true soldier.
“Satine…”
Satine shakes her head. “Try to take care of yourself. Please.”
“Yes dear.”
“Ben.”
“Okay. I promise I won’t come back a corpse.”
“That would be most ideal – I fear the garbage you claim is food at Dex’s Diner.“
Some old comic style practices with my dear obitine ❤
concept: roleswap au where satine is the fierce, warlike sister willing to do anything for her vod’ika, her people, and bo-katan is the idealist, the pacifist who rails against injustice and violence. and obi-wan of course, falls for satine all the same.
Anakin finds the letter a week after Rako Hardeen puts a blaster bolt through Obi-Wan Kenobi’s chest.
With the way the letter was sequestered away, in all likelihood it should never have been found; only reason Anakin saw it at all was that when his fist connected with the durasteel wall of his quarters on the Resolute, the envelope of flimsi fluttered down off the little shelf reserved for Obi-Wan’s things.
Anakin loosens his mechanical hand and fights against the ache where metal joins bone.
He has very pointedly not looked at the shelf these past few days. It remains there, however, just in the corner of his vision; constant and close and there, like the image of Obi-Wan crying out in surprised agony as he stumbled over the roof edge, hand clasped to the perfect, circular burn over his heart.
Anakin blinks once.
The cabin is dark and cool, and the starlight beyond the viewport faintly shimmering still.
The shelf is still there, as unassuming in its ordered clutter as it always has been. It is not special, not even now; Anakin has – had – one of his own in Obi-Wan’s cabin on The Negotiator, piled from edge to edge with bits of electrical circuitry and droid parts. Obi-Wan often bemoaned its mess in his otherwise spotless cabin; but there had always been a smile hovering there, half-hidden behind an auburn beard.
At the image, the breath chokes in Anakin’s throat. He stoops to pick up the envelope of flimsy simply because he needs to do something; something better than punching the wall with a hand he knows will never break.
The word penned on the envelope front is not Aurebesh. Anakin blinks blurred eyes at the sharp-edged ink for a long moment before identifying the letters as somewhat Mandalorian in design; but there are knife-like extensions to the word that render it foreign to him, an echo of an ancient script.
He slides a finger under the adhesive seal and flicks open in the letter. Within is a simple sheet of flimsi, and its – thankfully Aurebesh – letters shine firm and clear in the faint starlight.
Dearest Satine,
I leave this letter with Anakin, in the hope that-
Anakin reels. His calves hit a hard edge, and he half-falls back onto his bunk. A gaping cavern in the Force opens up below him, threatens to swallow him whole.
He is holding the letter so tightly the paper crinkles in a starburst of blade-sharp lines from his gloved thumb.
Some distant part of him almost wants to fling it away, but he dashes a sleeve across his eyes, and carries on.
Dearest Satine,
I leave this letter with Anakin, in the hope that he may one day pass it on to you. Anakin, I will be placing this letter amongst my belongings in your cabin, because if we’re going to be honest with each other, you wouldn’t step foot in my cabin even a year after my passing; I know you too well. Read on, if it pleases you. I am dead, so I have nothing more to hide. Satine, forgive me for wishing to share what I say in this letter with him. He my brother, and by extension, I hope, your friend.
Satine, I pen this letter a week after your departure to Mandalore. Never in my lifetime did I think I would see you again, and yet the Force loves to make delightful fools of us all. It is wiser than us in that way.
This past week has been strange. I recall what transpired in the corridor when Senator Merrick had you at blasterpoint with utter clarity, but with you once more star-systems away, I find myself wondering – illogically – if it actually did occur. When I saw you again I thought that there were enough years between now and then for us to be nothing more than a Jedi and a Duchess; but you were there, and so was I, and then before I even began to realise the surfacing of words that I had left buried so deep I thought I forgot their first awakening, you spoke, and so did I.
And I also find myself questioning why you waited so long to say them.
No, no – that is unfair. I should be wondering why I waited, when I knew the question you did not ask so many years ago – when I also knew what I would have said in return.
I think you have the right to be angry at me for this, Satine. I knew, but I did not say it. Not when it might have changed something.
I never did tell you what the Force told me, when I stood before you on that last day of that year we had together – my extended mission and your fight for peace. When I waited for you to ask, and you waited for me to offer, and we ended up waiting until the thing we were waiting for no longer could come.
Satine, I have to tell you this, although you might hate me for it.
The Force told me that we could have been happy.
I remember that moment with such astonishing detail. You were in your formal receiving-gown, the one embroidered in sea-blue thread, and there was a Mando’a poem woven in the braids on your head. The sun was bleeding its last light of the day across the city, and the variegated glass was casting iridescent shades across your hands and mine, and the long space between them.
The Force showed me that there could have been many more such sunsets, watched with my hand in yours; how I would have formal tunics made in sea-green to match your blue, and how I would have griped good-naturedly over it but ceded to your good sense. I could hear your laughter as clearly as though the future you were by my ear. And, faint through the warp and weft of the Force, a child’s newborn cry.
When I saw this future with you, Satine, I wished for it so dearly. I think I have never since wished for something as much, save for on Naboo, when Master Jinn passed into the Force.
But the Force also showed me another path – one which would bring balance to the galaxy in such a way that a life on Mandalore could not. It did not show me how this would be done, or what part I would play in it – but it spoke of joy in suffering, and, though I could not, and still do not fully understand, love.
So when I did not speak, Satine, I did so out of love.
I am sorry.
I write this letter expecting you only to read it after my death; as it is, I am also sorry for causing you grief. Do not mourn me, Satine. There is joy yet.
But, dearest, never doubt that I would have left the Order if you had said the word. And even now, if the war was over, and Ahsoka knighted, and you asked – I think I would have done the same. Forgive me for leaving you before I could.
Ever yours,
Ben
Anakin lowers the letter, and swallows against the tears. When this proves insufficient, he swipes angrily at them with his gauntleted arm.
“Blast it,” he croaks into the crook of his elbow.
He sits there for a long, long while.
He needs-
He needs Padmé.
Anakin slides the letter back in the envelope and returns it to its spot on the shelf. The spiky letters on the front gleam at him in the half-light; letters that he finally realises must spell out Satine.
Obi-Wan wrote to give it to her.
Anakin should.
But…not yet.
He needs to not- not feel like this, whatever this mix of confusion, anger, and a lot else is, before he can do so. He strides out of his quarters instead, off to 500 Republica and the woman that is his home.
Two weeks later, the man with Rako Hardeen’s face and voice whispers “Anakin, don’t follow me,” into Anakin’s ear as Anakin writhes in the dirt, rage and need for vengeance melting into shock, and when he wakes, he is so, so furious that he wonders why the world is not screaming with him.
When Obi-Wan saunters into Anakin’s quarters on the Resolute much, much later, wearing his own face and voice again, the first thing he does is casually remark, “I see you weren’t in a hurry to clear my shelf.”
Anakin watches how Obi-Wan’s eyes flick over the corner of the envelope and soften minutely in relief to find it still there, lost amongst the holovolumes and packets of tea.
“I knew you’d come back,” Anakin says instead, and forces a grin until he almost believes it himself.
wrennette 