more lady jedi
Jan. 26th, 2012 11:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardMore genderswapped time-traveling Jedi, in no particular order.
“Morning, Master,” Anakin says, wandering out into the common area and promptly draping herself across Obi-Wan’s lap again, seemingly going back to sleep.
Obi-Wan shoves ineffectually at her shoulder. “Anakin Skywalker, kindly remember that I am your master and not your pillow.”
Anakin opens one blue eye, smiling up at her beneficently. “Technically, you’re not my master anymore,” she says, “and you make such a good pillow.”
“It seems highly unlikely that I make any better a pillow than you do a blanket,” Obi-Wan says. “You’re far too bony.”
“It’s all muscle,” Anakin says, turning her head as Artoo comes into the room, beeping a good morning. “Artoo, you’re the same as our Artoo, aren’t you? Everything’s the same except for us.”
Artoo beeps cautious agreement.
“What are you thinking of, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks.
“I’m sure our Artoo has some stored holos of us,” Anakin says, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her eyes. “This Artoo might too. It’s been twenty years, but most astromechs don’t use half their memory space, their life expectancies are too short, and I gave our Artoo a few upgrades, so I don’t see why my counterpart wouldn’t have too.” She grins triumphantly at Obi-Wan. “Aren’t you curious to see what we look like in this universe?”
“I admit some curiosity, though I don’t see why it’s relevant,” Obi-Wan allows.
“Because you’re curious and we’re here,” Anakin grins, easy. “What about it, Artoo?”
Artoo chirps thoughtfully.
Anakin leans back against Obi-Wan, folding her fingers into the sleeve of her partner’s robe for no reason except to touch her, even though they’re pressed up side to side on the couch. Obi-Wan gives her an indulgent look, rolling her eyes, and twirls one of her loose braids around her finger. Experimentally, Anakin hooks her left leg over Obi-Wan’s, and is pleased when Obi-Wan doesn’t push her aside.
Amazingly (or maybe not), she recognizes the HoloNet broadcast that Artoo eventually pulls up. It’s from a few weeks ago, recorded before they’d been recalled from Delak IV back to Coruscant. The reporter is a solemn-faced Twi’lek woman with a nervous habit of twirling her microphone between her fingers when it’s not in use. Anakin leans forward, Obi-Wan forgotten for a moment, and sees the holo blur into a tall young man with the same bright eyes and shaggy hair she sees on the rare occasion she’s in the proximity of a mirror.
“Cute,” she says, and Obi-Wan laughs.
“Your infatuation with yourself knows no bounds,” she says.
“Well, I’d sleep with myself if I was a boy. I’m cute,” Anakin says. “What about you? You should be coming up in a minute if I remember right.”
Boy Anakin says something earnest about the Jedi presence on Delak IV, then answers a question about the planet’s strategic importance to the Federation. A shorter Jedi with a close-clipped beard steps into the holo at the reporter’s question, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe.
“Cute,” Anakin says again, ignoring the shiver that goes straight to her cunt when he speaks. Obi-Wan’s voice, but deeper, with a little more gravel in it – not richer, but different. She runs her fingers along the inside of Obi-Wan’s knee, watching the male Obi-Wan in the holo.
This time, Obi-Wan fits her fingers around her wrist and lifts her hand away, putting it back on her own knee.
“That’s General Kenobi,” says Leia from the door. “Well – our General Kenobi, anyway.” She looks at Artoo with interest. “I’ve never seen this holo before, is that –”
“That’s me,” Anakin says helpfully, preening. “Handsome, huh?”
“Don’t stroke her ego anymore,” Obi-Wan sighs. “She hardly needs it.”
Luke is standing next to Leia, looking at the holo with longing in his eyes. “I didn’t know that Artoo had this stored away.”
“Ani is apparently more vain than I thought,” Obi-Wan says lightly. “She had Artoo keep all her holos. Your Anakin must have been the same way.”
Luke frowns, staring back at the holo. “I’ve never seen my father before,” he confesses.
“Well, I’m prettier,” Anakin says, tossing her hair. “Who’s your mom?”
Luke shrugs. “I was hoping you knew.”
Obi-Wan glances sideways at Anakin. Padmé, she thinks, fleeting, but the other Anakin isn’t her, and there have been other women, other men. She wants there to be Obi-Wan. Maybe this Anakin had her – him.
She grins at Luke. “No idea. I’m not him.”
*
When Obi-Wan lets down her hair, unwinds it from whatever elaborate configuration of braids she has it in that week, it goes well past her waist, like Padmé’s when she’d been Queen. Anakin used to brush it out for her when she’d been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, the long fine red strands slipping through her fingers. It had been shorter then; Obi-Wan had started growing her hair out when Qui-Gon died and she’d made Knight. It’s vanity, not sentiment; she keeps it trimmed and neat and doesn’t let it grow to absurd lengths, just long enough that she can do the things with it that she likes.
Anakin’s been a Knight for less than a year now, and she’s been trying to break her automatic urge to run her hands through Obi-Wan’s hair ever since. Obi-Wan only has her hair down as long as it takes her to wash it and braid it again. For all that she accuses Anakin of being vain (and maybe Anakin is, but there’s nothing in the Code about that), Obi-Wan’s one besetting sin is her hair. Anakin wishes Obi-Wan’s one besetting sin was Anakin, but since she can’t have that, she’s selfishly glad about the hair, since it means that, Jedi Master or not, Obi-Wan Kenobi is human after all.
Her fingers still twitch when Obi-Wan starts taking it out of the braids, piling the hairbands on a table and working the hair free. “Let me do that, Master,” she says finally, standing up.
Obi-Wan flips her an amused look, her hair half-in and half-out of her braids. “You don’t have to do that,” she says, dropping pins on the table with metallic little clicks.
“I want to,” Anakin coaxes. “You know that I’m good at it.”
Obi-Wan makes a sheepish little shrugging motion. “If you insist, I won’t say no.”
“Sit,” Anakin says firmly, pulling a chair over. Obi-Wan sits obediently, pulling her hair out to keep it from getting stuck between her back and the back of her chair. Anakin lifts aside the hair she’s already released and puts it over Obi-Wan’s shoulder so that it won’t get in her way, then gets on with the rest of it, adding to the pile of pins and hairbands as she plots out the braid configuration she’s been thinking out for months now.
“Anakin, if the Supreme Chancellor is the Sith Lord we’ve been searching for, then we must get back to our own universe as quickly as we can in order to warn the Council,” Obi-Wan says, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“I always knew I didn’t like that man,” Anakin says, carefully unpinning a fistful of tiny braids from a knot behind Obi-Wan’s right ear. She doesn’t mind doing this for her Master, but she doesn’t have the patience to do this for herself; there’s a reason she has no intention of letting her hair grow out past her shoulders.
“I thought you were fond of him,” Obi-Wan says, her voice carefully. “He’s always taken a – a particular interest in you.”
“That’s before he started telling me I was too pretty to be a Jedi,” Anakin sniffs. “The man’s from Naboo, you’d think he’d be used to taking orders from beautiful women.”
“When did he say this?” Obi-Wan inquires. “You never said anything about it to me.”
“There wasn’t any point,” Anakin scowls at the back of her head. “I’m a Jedi. I’ll always be Jedi. That’s not going to change just because the Supreme Chancellor thinks I’m pretty; the Jedi are very good-looking as a whole.”
“I always knew you had a secret admiration for Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan says.
“Yes, I’m sure Master Yoda is a fine specimen of a – whatever he is. But I mean, I’m gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, Aayla Secura’s gorgeous –”
“You keep throwing around that word, it stops having any real meaning.”
“Well, you are gorgeous, and I am very good-looking,” Anakin says, finishing with the small braids and moving on to three larger ones. “Anyway, I don’t know what the Chancellor wanted then, now I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. I just thought he wanted to fuck me.”
Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense. “How old –”
“Fourteen.”
“Ani!” Obi-Wan says, hair whipping as she twists around to stare accusingly at her. “You should have told me!”
“I didn’t think it was important,” Anakin says.
“Well, it is,” Obi-Wan says. “You were my Padawan. I was responsible for you. I would have made sure it never happened again.”
“Well, it didn’t,” Anakin says. “Because I stopped having anything to do with Chancellor Palpatine after that. I’m Jedi, Master. I chose to be Jedi. I’m good at it. I don’t mind being propositioned, even by Palpatine –” She lets her nose wrinkle in disgust, “– but I do mind being told that I can just stop being Jedi because of the way I look, like it’s something I put on in the morning with my shirt and my lightsaber.”
Obi-Wan looks up at her, her blue eyes distressed, and Anakin goes on gently, “It was almost ten years ago, Master. You know I hate worrying you.”
“You should have worried me over this!” Obi-Wan says.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin says. “Hey, at least I didn’t say yes.” She shudders. “I’d hate to think I’d slept with a Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan scowls, but lets Anakin turn her back around and go back to her hair. On a whim, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Master,” she repeats. “If I’d known it would upset you this much, I would have told you years ago.”
She kisses Obi-Wan’s cheek again, wanting to kiss her mouth, and for a heartbeat she thinks Obi-Wan will let her, but she turns her head aside at the last second, so that Anakin’s lips graze her ear instead.
“Anakin,” she sighs.
Anakin slides her fingers through Obi-Wan's hair again, loosening the last few braids, and reaches for the brush. “Whatever happens here, at least we know now,” she says. “And when we get home, we can stop it. This isn’t our future.”
“Morning, Master,” Anakin says, wandering out into the common area and promptly draping herself across Obi-Wan’s lap again, seemingly going back to sleep.
Obi-Wan shoves ineffectually at her shoulder. “Anakin Skywalker, kindly remember that I am your master and not your pillow.”
Anakin opens one blue eye, smiling up at her beneficently. “Technically, you’re not my master anymore,” she says, “and you make such a good pillow.”
“It seems highly unlikely that I make any better a pillow than you do a blanket,” Obi-Wan says. “You’re far too bony.”
“It’s all muscle,” Anakin says, turning her head as Artoo comes into the room, beeping a good morning. “Artoo, you’re the same as our Artoo, aren’t you? Everything’s the same except for us.”
Artoo beeps cautious agreement.
“What are you thinking of, Anakin?” Obi-Wan asks.
“I’m sure our Artoo has some stored holos of us,” Anakin says, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her eyes. “This Artoo might too. It’s been twenty years, but most astromechs don’t use half their memory space, their life expectancies are too short, and I gave our Artoo a few upgrades, so I don’t see why my counterpart wouldn’t have too.” She grins triumphantly at Obi-Wan. “Aren’t you curious to see what we look like in this universe?”
“I admit some curiosity, though I don’t see why it’s relevant,” Obi-Wan allows.
“Because you’re curious and we’re here,” Anakin grins, easy. “What about it, Artoo?”
Artoo chirps thoughtfully.
Anakin leans back against Obi-Wan, folding her fingers into the sleeve of her partner’s robe for no reason except to touch her, even though they’re pressed up side to side on the couch. Obi-Wan gives her an indulgent look, rolling her eyes, and twirls one of her loose braids around her finger. Experimentally, Anakin hooks her left leg over Obi-Wan’s, and is pleased when Obi-Wan doesn’t push her aside.
Amazingly (or maybe not), she recognizes the HoloNet broadcast that Artoo eventually pulls up. It’s from a few weeks ago, recorded before they’d been recalled from Delak IV back to Coruscant. The reporter is a solemn-faced Twi’lek woman with a nervous habit of twirling her microphone between her fingers when it’s not in use. Anakin leans forward, Obi-Wan forgotten for a moment, and sees the holo blur into a tall young man with the same bright eyes and shaggy hair she sees on the rare occasion she’s in the proximity of a mirror.
“Cute,” she says, and Obi-Wan laughs.
“Your infatuation with yourself knows no bounds,” she says.
“Well, I’d sleep with myself if I was a boy. I’m cute,” Anakin says. “What about you? You should be coming up in a minute if I remember right.”
Boy Anakin says something earnest about the Jedi presence on Delak IV, then answers a question about the planet’s strategic importance to the Federation. A shorter Jedi with a close-clipped beard steps into the holo at the reporter’s question, his hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe.
“Cute,” Anakin says again, ignoring the shiver that goes straight to her cunt when he speaks. Obi-Wan’s voice, but deeper, with a little more gravel in it – not richer, but different. She runs her fingers along the inside of Obi-Wan’s knee, watching the male Obi-Wan in the holo.
This time, Obi-Wan fits her fingers around her wrist and lifts her hand away, putting it back on her own knee.
“That’s General Kenobi,” says Leia from the door. “Well – our General Kenobi, anyway.” She looks at Artoo with interest. “I’ve never seen this holo before, is that –”
“That’s me,” Anakin says helpfully, preening. “Handsome, huh?”
“Don’t stroke her ego anymore,” Obi-Wan sighs. “She hardly needs it.”
Luke is standing next to Leia, looking at the holo with longing in his eyes. “I didn’t know that Artoo had this stored away.”
“Ani is apparently more vain than I thought,” Obi-Wan says lightly. “She had Artoo keep all her holos. Your Anakin must have been the same way.”
Luke frowns, staring back at the holo. “I’ve never seen my father before,” he confesses.
“Well, I’m prettier,” Anakin says, tossing her hair. “Who’s your mom?”
Luke shrugs. “I was hoping you knew.”
Obi-Wan glances sideways at Anakin. Padmé, she thinks, fleeting, but the other Anakin isn’t her, and there have been other women, other men. She wants there to be Obi-Wan. Maybe this Anakin had her – him.
She grins at Luke. “No idea. I’m not him.”
*
When Obi-Wan lets down her hair, unwinds it from whatever elaborate configuration of braids she has it in that week, it goes well past her waist, like Padmé’s when she’d been Queen. Anakin used to brush it out for her when she’d been Obi-Wan’s Padawan, the long fine red strands slipping through her fingers. It had been shorter then; Obi-Wan had started growing her hair out when Qui-Gon died and she’d made Knight. It’s vanity, not sentiment; she keeps it trimmed and neat and doesn’t let it grow to absurd lengths, just long enough that she can do the things with it that she likes.
Anakin’s been a Knight for less than a year now, and she’s been trying to break her automatic urge to run her hands through Obi-Wan’s hair ever since. Obi-Wan only has her hair down as long as it takes her to wash it and braid it again. For all that she accuses Anakin of being vain (and maybe Anakin is, but there’s nothing in the Code about that), Obi-Wan’s one besetting sin is her hair. Anakin wishes Obi-Wan’s one besetting sin was Anakin, but since she can’t have that, she’s selfishly glad about the hair, since it means that, Jedi Master or not, Obi-Wan Kenobi is human after all.
Her fingers still twitch when Obi-Wan starts taking it out of the braids, piling the hairbands on a table and working the hair free. “Let me do that, Master,” she says finally, standing up.
Obi-Wan flips her an amused look, her hair half-in and half-out of her braids. “You don’t have to do that,” she says, dropping pins on the table with metallic little clicks.
“I want to,” Anakin coaxes. “You know that I’m good at it.”
Obi-Wan makes a sheepish little shrugging motion. “If you insist, I won’t say no.”
“Sit,” Anakin says firmly, pulling a chair over. Obi-Wan sits obediently, pulling her hair out to keep it from getting stuck between her back and the back of her chair. Anakin lifts aside the hair she’s already released and puts it over Obi-Wan’s shoulder so that it won’t get in her way, then gets on with the rest of it, adding to the pile of pins and hairbands as she plots out the braid configuration she’s been thinking out for months now.
“Anakin, if the Supreme Chancellor is the Sith Lord we’ve been searching for, then we must get back to our own universe as quickly as we can in order to warn the Council,” Obi-Wan says, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
“I always knew I didn’t like that man,” Anakin says, carefully unpinning a fistful of tiny braids from a knot behind Obi-Wan’s right ear. She doesn’t mind doing this for her Master, but she doesn’t have the patience to do this for herself; there’s a reason she has no intention of letting her hair grow out past her shoulders.
“I thought you were fond of him,” Obi-Wan says, her voice carefully. “He’s always taken a – a particular interest in you.”
“That’s before he started telling me I was too pretty to be a Jedi,” Anakin sniffs. “The man’s from Naboo, you’d think he’d be used to taking orders from beautiful women.”
“When did he say this?” Obi-Wan inquires. “You never said anything about it to me.”
“There wasn’t any point,” Anakin scowls at the back of her head. “I’m a Jedi. I’ll always be Jedi. That’s not going to change just because the Supreme Chancellor thinks I’m pretty; the Jedi are very good-looking as a whole.”
“I always knew you had a secret admiration for Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan says.
“Yes, I’m sure Master Yoda is a fine specimen of a – whatever he is. But I mean, I’m gorgeous, you’re gorgeous, Aayla Secura’s gorgeous –”
“You keep throwing around that word, it stops having any real meaning.”
“Well, you are gorgeous, and I am very good-looking,” Anakin says, finishing with the small braids and moving on to three larger ones. “Anyway, I don’t know what the Chancellor wanted then, now I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. I just thought he wanted to fuck me.”
Obi-Wan’s shoulders tense. “How old –”
“Fourteen.”
“Ani!” Obi-Wan says, hair whipping as she twists around to stare accusingly at her. “You should have told me!”
“I didn’t think it was important,” Anakin says.
“Well, it is,” Obi-Wan says. “You were my Padawan. I was responsible for you. I would have made sure it never happened again.”
“Well, it didn’t,” Anakin says. “Because I stopped having anything to do with Chancellor Palpatine after that. I’m Jedi, Master. I chose to be Jedi. I’m good at it. I don’t mind being propositioned, even by Palpatine –” She lets her nose wrinkle in disgust, “– but I do mind being told that I can just stop being Jedi because of the way I look, like it’s something I put on in the morning with my shirt and my lightsaber.”
Obi-Wan looks up at her, her blue eyes distressed, and Anakin goes on gently, “It was almost ten years ago, Master. You know I hate worrying you.”
“You should have worried me over this!” Obi-Wan says.
“I’m sorry, Master,” Anakin says. “Hey, at least I didn’t say yes.” She shudders. “I’d hate to think I’d slept with a Sith Lord.”
Obi-Wan scowls, but lets Anakin turn her back around and go back to her hair. On a whim, she leans down and presses a soft kiss to Obi-Wan’s cheek. “I’m sorry, Master,” she repeats. “If I’d known it would upset you this much, I would have told you years ago.”
She kisses Obi-Wan’s cheek again, wanting to kiss her mouth, and for a heartbeat she thinks Obi-Wan will let her, but she turns her head aside at the last second, so that Anakin’s lips graze her ear instead.
“Anakin,” she sighs.
Anakin slides her fingers through Obi-Wan's hair again, loosening the last few braids, and reaches for the brush. “Whatever happens here, at least we know now,” she says. “And when we get home, we can stop it. This isn’t our future.”
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 08:21 am (UTC)Also, I suddenly want Ani seducing male!Obi Wan.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 03:39 pm (UTC)(And then possibly everything goes to hell.)
Come to think of it, that's probably a lot how lady!Anakin acted with lady!Obi-Wan. Although she started off a lot more handsy.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 03:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 05:19 pm (UTC)Also I am amused by the mental image of Anakin or Ani wandering in drunk and saying very seriously to lady!Obi-Wan, "You have the most beautiful breasts in the Order. We voted." And Obi-Wan just facepalms.
(Anakin/Obi-Wan in all configurations! Slash! Femmeslash! Het both ways! Even canon is pretty slashy; the novelization for RotS is...oh, man, the novelization for RotS. *shakes head* Where Obi-Wan is like, "Hey, I know this butt! This is Anakin's butt! I can recognize this butt upside down and encased in black leather after just waking up from a concussion!" I AM NOT MAKING THIS UP.)
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 05:24 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 05:29 pm (UTC)Now I am back to pondering Anakin trying to seduce lady!Obi-Wan.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 07:51 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-27 08:49 pm (UTC)Oh, and before any of that, Ghost Obi-Wan shows up. Ani is really creeped out.