upper tiny

Star Wars: In the Silence and the Dark: Holding Pattern

Obi-Wan, after Darth Setan kidnaps Qui-Gon off Mandalore.

@poplitealqueen @markwatnae

DescentPart 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Escalation

Fandom: Star Wars
AU: In the Silence and the Dark
Word Count: 574
Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu

Notes: Do not be like Obi-Wan and not sleep for a week.

“… I thought it best to return to Coruscant and request guidance.” Obi-Wan hadn’t taken the time to even change out of the armor that had bought him the time to find passage off Mandalore with Satine, and gotten them free of the once-more escalating conflict. Only held the helmet in his hands as he told the Council about the disaster the mission had become.

There is silence all around him, even as the Force ripples a little with shock. Obi-Wan is too tired and unsettled to wonder at the Council showing so much a reaction to the disappearance of his Master. He idly prods at the spot in his mind where his bond to Qui-Gon should be, the dull ache of the emptiness not even enough to spark a little more energy. Drawing a deep breath, he pulls on the Force a little to help him stay on his feet until the Council is done with him.

“Thank you for your report, Padawan Kenobi.” Master Windu sounds no more ruffled than he ever does, and that helps, even if Obi-Wan still can’t settle. “Return to your quarters, and rest. If we have further questions, we will ask you tomorrow.”

Obi-Wan bows, a small flush of gratitude worming its way past the exhaustion, and gladly leaves the council chamber. He prefers when missions don’t go so pear-shaped as to require this kind of immediate report, and he can submit his report primarily in writing. Even if many of them involve talking to at least one council member later.

It takes him entering the code for the quarters he shares with Qui-Gon twice to get the door open, and once the door shuts, he stands there a moment, staring blindly at the room. It’s not entirely familiar, after nearly a year on Mandalore, never being able to stay in one place. Three long months without even his Master, and barely any sleep. Obi-Wan isn’t certain quite how he succeeded in getting himself and Satine safely off the planet, much less back to the Temple for help.

He blinks what seems only a few seconds later, taking a long moment to recognize his view as the ceiling, and the upper cabinets of the tiny kitchen seen over the counter that divides it from the rest of the room. Shrouded in shadows, though it’s not dark enough to be night.

His head aches, as does his right side. Obi-Wan rolls onto his back, letting out a soft hiss as edges of the armor dig into his skin despite the padding of the underlayer. Watching the ceiling for a moment before he tries to sit up. It takes a little more effort than he’s expecting, and he has to put out a hand to steady himself against the wall under the counter once he’s sitting up.

Looking over toward the small window that lets in light, it takes Obi-Wan a moment to process that the dim light is dawn, not dusk, pale sunlight just touching the upper part of the window, and he starts, flinching away from the idea that he’s been passed out in front of the door all night, and no one has checked on him. No one would know that he needed checked on. Wouldn’t know he hadn’t slept since leaving Mandalore, not trusting anyone to watch over Satine until they were at the Temple.

More notes

I have decided that the other story is a complete thing. There are more stories in the AU, and for now, I’m switching gears and figuring out what Obi-Wan’s doing. Other than failing to take sufficient care of himself, because this is Obi-Wan.

So, Obi-Wan, Satine, Mace, Dooku. Whoever else shows up. And at some point figuring out what’s going on with the training bond between Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, and what sorts of fun I can have with that.

One of my fave things about Crowley is just his whole apartment aesthetic?? I just have so many headcanons?

Like I can imagine him through the centuries, following the trends and fashions, clad in leather like a rocker in the 60s and 70s, wearing the finest frilly laces in the court of Versailles, all buckled up in straight line suits and glossy top hats in the streets of Victorian London, and he carries that style into his house, wherever it may be, because it’s all part of the image, the faux human life he’s carefully crafted, and he never cares if the decor is ostentatious, if it’s too florid or gaudy or darkly lit, cos why would he care about the paint on a few walls when he hasn’t felt at home since he slipped Eve that apple (not that he regrets it, how could he ever) and the world changed forever

And then styles shift and minimalism comes around, where everything is big spaces with clean lines and white walls and natural light flooding from big windows, and Crowley buys a new apartment and gets it decorated as minimalistic as possible, and fills it with gadgets and gizmos and all the human trappings of the age

And he almost likes his new apartment, almost but not quite, because there’s something strangely familiar about it, but there’s something off, something missing, and it comes to him one day when he’s walking through Camden market and sees the plants trailing from terracotta pots, the vines creeping around trellises and the colourful clusters of tiny flowers, and before he knows it he buys a plant, and then two, and then three, and then a dozen

And then one day he wakes up, sleepy and satisfied from indulging himself in a long nap in his ridiculously expensive bed, and sees for the first time summer sunshine lighting up gleaming white walls, a light so bright it’s almost painful, and plants bathing in the sunlight, flowers unfurling their petals in the joy of summer, their leaves lit up in a hundred shades of green, the air heavy with the scent of greenery and growing things, and he can almost hear the birds singing their praises and the warmth of an earth newly formed under his scales, and it’s the closest to home he’s felt in over a millennia, in this little Garden all of his own

This image is from the Sing Core 24 ft. THOW by Upper Valley Tiny Homes. This is the first time that I’ve seen a double stair system, particularly connected with a bench.

This house sits atop a flatbed trailer (the tires are below the surface of the trailer deck) but this stair arrangement would be suitable for a drop deck trailer where the wheel well often becomes a design obstacle.

The kids will be relegated to the two upper lofts, the wife insisting on a main floor bedroom for us. I like this stair solution but would rather a central kitchen fill this area.

The herbs that my niece and I planted!
The only one growing in the top half is calendula.
In the bottom half: the upper left where a tiny sprout is coming up is feverfew, upper middle is blue vervain, upper right is gumweed, bottom right is comfrey, bottom middle is yarrow, and bottom left is the St. John’s wort.
The ones I named are growing though it’s tiny. The feverfew and St. John’s wort came from @tropicalhomestead!

How 2 Delete a Sideblog

So over the years I’ve seen too many people accidentally deleting their ENTIRE account because they don’t know how to operate this website, and that’s perfectly understandable because staff has made it unbearable!

If you don’t want to accidentally do this in the near future, here is the step to deleting just a SIDEBLOG, and not your entire account.

  1. Open tumblr
  2. look at the upper right sidebar
  3. click the tiny person for the drop down menu
  4. choose the sideblog you wanna delete
  5. click “members”
  6. click “delete this blog”
  7. just to make sure you’re on the RIGHT BLOG, read the username that it says you’re ABOUT TO DELETE
  8. enter email and password!
  9. delete blog :D