In Which Thrawn Murders Anakin Twice.

darth maul and padme amidala: discarded pawns

iain mccraig on doing concept art for the phantom menace / wookieepedia / james dillon / star wars tales volume 6 / paul mcdonald

Live action looks good on them 🧡💙🤍

What about a fic where reader gets stuck in a storm (sand storm?) and anakin has to come to the rescue? Bonus points for fluff

I Don’t Like Sand // Anakin X Reader One shot.

A/N: So I literally did the opposite of fluff I am so sorry! This may or may not be the crigiest thing I’ve ever written, idk! 

Warnings: Angst! So much angst! but a lil fluff! mentions of injury, mentions of death and grief.

Word count: 1K

“Come on.” You pleaded through gritted teeth, attempting to start the uncooperative speeder for the thousandth time. Shoulders slumped in defeat, you finally gave up making the blasted thing work and rested your forehead against the handle bars with a sigh. 

Surrounding you was an endless sea of sand, stretching out as far as the eye could see. It swallowed every visible inch of land. The heat of the unforgiving sun stung the exposed skin of your neck, but you were too defeated to care about it. Your eyes took in the way the sun cast it golden glow over the dunes, highlighting their tones of red and yellow. It was almost beautiful.  

Although it wasn't Tatooine, the similarities between the two planets were undeniable, and it seemed that you were not the only one to make that connection. The moment you and Anakin set foot on the ground he changed. His usual playful demeanor faded away, leaving a cold, reserved Anakin in its place. With everything he’s been through, I can’t really blame him. You thought, remembering what he had told you of his life as a slave.

Shaking the thoughts from your mind, you sat up straight and grabbed your comlink. Guess I gotta call Ani if I want to get out of here anytime soon. As you went to dial him, you felt a slight gust of wind brush against your back, an odd contrast to the hot, still air that filled the desert. Looking up, you noticed the sky had turned an ominous gray. That can’t be good. 

The com link came to life in your palm, Anakin’s voice coming through. “Y/n, have you reached the destination?” 

“Negative.” You replied. “The speeder broke down and I can’t fix it. Looks like I’ll need a lift.” The sky grew ever darker around you, and the wind began to carry the sand along with it, swirling it about before it fell back to the ground. “And soon.” 

“I’m on my way.” He said before hanging up, a sense of urgency heavy in his tone. 

                                                          ***

Anakin walked quickly to the ship, a purpose in his step and an aura of intense focus surrounding him. He didn't stop to tell anyone where he was going, there wasn't any time. Anakin climbed into his ship, the clones around paying him no mind. As he began to fiddle with the controls, he was unable to stop the slight shake in his hand. He took off out of the base into the sky as tendrils of sand swirled higher and higher, devouring the darkening horizon. Sand. He hated everything it represented for him, all the memories it brought back. using his ship’s tracker, he locked onto your coordinates. 

Anakin had seen plenty of sandstorms as a boy and knew of all the horrible things that happened to people unlucky enough to find themselves stuck in one. And by the Maker, he wasn't going to let any of them happen to you. 

It was beginning to get hard to see through the debris, and the wind shook the ship so fiercely that it became a challenge to get a steady grip on the controls. A lesser pilot would have been thrown to the ground almost immediately. But not Anakin. He focused all of his energy on keeping the ship steady, at any rate it was an excuse to avoid the memories of Tatooine. 

Memories of sand storms so thick you could see a foot in front of you, the kind where dust snuck in under the nooks and crannies of doorways and windows, stinging your eyes and lungs. He remembered all the people he witnessed attempting to brave the sand dunes of Tatooine, only to be swallowed up by desert storms, never to be seen from again. Or worse, the ones who did come back. The ones who were dragged back into the spaceport on the brink of death, dehydrated from days laying in the heat, too exhausted to move, skin burnt to a crisp from the harsh suns. 

No! He reprimanded himself, tightening his grip on the wheel until it was borderline painful. Focus. The wind was beyond crazy now, making the ship tremble under its wrath, a sheen of gray completely obscuring the once unforgiving sun. Maker what if he couldn’t find you? What if you fixed the speeder and tried to get away only to crash it? What if I’m too late?

He'd been late before. To save innocent refugees, political officials. Shimi. He would never forget that night, riding across the sand dunes as fast as the spreader would allow, pushing the machine to its limits, the same sense of dread and fear that filled him then writhed inside of his chest once again. 

And then there was the blinding sadness when he saw her broken body lying on the sand covered floor of the Tuskin hut, the all encompassing helplessness and shame. He’d failed. And the feeling of holding her in his arms as life fled from his mother’s eyes…

No! He would not let that happen again, he would not let that happen to you! 

Anakin glanced down at the tracking signal again to see your location so agonizingly close. He lowered the ship towards the ground, frantically searching for signs of life through the dusty haze covering the windshield. There! He could just make out the silhouette of a figure and a speeder in front of him. He lowered the ship as close to the ground as he could before opening the door, doing his best to keep it steady. 

He ran towards the entrance, holding his hand up to block him from the sand blasting into the ship, waiting to see any sign of you. Out of the gray sandy haze, your figure appeared, jogging into the ship and closing the door behind you.

“An-Anakin!” You called, coughing up the dust from your throat. Though you were covered in layers of dirt, he wasted no time wrapping you in a bone crushing hug. 

“Maker, I’m so glad you're ok! Next time let me check your speeder before you leave, or take some clone with you, better yet-“ 

You pulled back from him. “Ani, I’m fine.” You reassured him, a gentle smile spreading across your face as you cupped his face in your hand. “Thank you for coming to get me baby.” You stared deep into his eyes, seeing the fear and turmoil that laid inside him. “It was only a little storm, I would have been fine.”

“I know.” He responded, his voice wavering just the tiniest bit.

You paused, attempting to find the right words. “I know being somewhere like this isn't easy for you. Do you want to talk about it?” 

“I...just,” he looked down at you, to your expression so full of love, your eyes, holding the same caring compassion that his mothers had. He pulled you back against him, tighter. “I don’t like sand.”

Tag list: @mysteryofkokoro @dexthtoyounglings @chokemeanakin @anakinsslag @sarapixieelliott08 @anakinravageme @anakinswhore

Some more tcw/b99 silliness because I love both so much

Legendary

“They are eggs that need a mum or, in this case, a dad to take care of them, to keep them warm during the winter, to bring the blanket and work and improve them. One day the moment will arrive when the weather changes, the sun rises, you break the egg and the baby is ready to go for life at the top level.” ++ this was supposed to be a quick sketch but my hand slipped and I had to finish the whole thing. Master and Padawan…yes, proper Jedi.

HAPPY STAR WARS DAY! 

This frame from the Clone Wars episode “Senate Murders” is gold.

“We heard you talking shit.”

their bickering is so good I love them

i’m watching ROTS on a video call tomorrow with my pals i’m so excited!!!

padme body horror is supreme bc when you think about it, her very existence requires constant agony. in real life that red invasion gown took several weeks to build. and the costumes were so uncomfortable that kiera knightly, who was sabe for like 2 seconds, cried every night while filming. the main way natalie portman describes her prequels costumes is “painful” . and sure “beautiful” usually follows but dude. imagine being 14 and in constant pain bc your job requires you be pretty as possible while defending your planet from fucking invasion. i can’t imagine how estranged i’d feel from my own body and sense of self in that moment. you can take that (already extreme) rigor over the body to all kinds of violent ends. possession. some sort of creature. self-mutilation. fic writes itself tbh!