#I NEED MORE VOS

[fkkr109]

[dragonbma]

“They must have flipped it. Your skills are latent.

Oh… The desolate dirt, the raw, scorched earth. It’s a trophy of your worth.”

“This mess that you've made, it's a six-foot grave.

It's a home for your lonesome bones that remain.

We'll disappear, but you'll stay here to rot as The King of The Dark and Forgot…”

P.S. Can’t believe MC:SM season 2 is another year older. 🎂

Yeah, I’ve said it before but I can’t shut up about how the cage looks like an upside down enchanting table.

[kcrabb88]

Sitting here at the end of my work day thinking about how much I love Quinlan Vos and how fucken cool he is. Also thinking about how it is a crime that QuinObi is not a bigger ship because they are truly! Iconic together! I heard "Quinlan was here?" in OWK and instantly wanted to know EVERYTHING. They know each other so well and I'm just. Upset about it.

[jewishcissiekj]

Hey do you guys wanna see my collection of Quinlan in Jedi Robes/whatever these are panels

In order, by lines (buckle up there's a lot): Star Wars (1998) #17, #19, #20 ^ #21, #26, #32 ^ #32-33 ^ #34-36 ^ #37-38, #42 ^ #43-45 ^#45, Star Wars Tales #11, Star Wars: Episode II - Attack of the Clones #4 Star Wars: Jedi - Aayla Secura, Star Wars: Jedi - Count Dooku, Star Wars: Jedi - Mace Windu Star Wars: Republic #69, #71, #73 ^ #81-82

[sithfox]

A drabble that wouldn't shut up until I wrote it:

“It’s a Kiffar thing.” Quinlan’s voice is soft as he traces the branching scars on Fox’s skin. “We’re naturally attuned to electricity. Useful, with all the lightning storms.”

Fox shudders as fingertips drag across a particularly sensitive patch of skin. He wants to turn himself inside out and feel that electricity in his bones, but there’s no way to say it that doesn’t make him sound insane, so he stays quiet. “Why does it bother you so much?”

“Because it was proof to those who thought I was tainted by what Tinte did – proof I was doomed to be Dark.”

[constellation-skirmishes]

this is a little shitshow i like to call the 'kenobi's exes polycule'

[dimsilver]

☀️

[wickerwax]

QuinObi Week 2024 (25/10)

Day 5: Desert husbands / I missed you sex

soap feelings

There is a light on when he gets home.

Well, if he wants to get all technical about it, he snarks at the Obi in his brain, then there are many lights because the Temple is never fully asleep what with the many and varied species and their biological rhythms that it is home to.

But, as he slips in through one of the lower Shadow doors and drags his exhausted, slightly singed ass through the halls with only the bare minimum of polite nodding at those he passes, he is expecting his rooms to be dark. Empty.

He tries not to think the word lonely but he is a Jedi and self-awareness is part of the striving. Generally. He’s not sure who is even in-Temple right now – although of course, he’s looking forward to catching up with Aayla and seeing how her recent set of exams went. He can round her up for midmeal – since he’ll surely be sleeping through first – although if he wakes up somewhat earlier he might have luck swinging by the padawan dorms – she shouldn’t have started a new class cycle yet, and meditation and katas is generally earlier again...Force, he’s so tired. This is all tomorrow-Quin’s problem. Tonight’s Quin just needs to get into his rooms and not make too much of a mess falling into bed.

The plaque on his door is shined bright and lightly vandalised – Vosiferous sounds like a bastardisation of a Kenobi word, but the handwriting looks like Garen, and the glitter is very clearly Bant’s – little smiling mon calamari faces stuck grinning in all directions. It makes him smile as he keys open his door, braced for the empty to spill out.

Instead comes the quiet glow of the mini light just for the kitchen nook. It smells fresh and sweet inside.

He stops in the doorway. Checks the nameplate. Wonders if his friends have moved the nameplate to a different door just to fuck with him but. No, that’s his collection of sketches pinned to the wall, and his paints in their case on the shelf, and folded over the couch arm is the screaming yellow blanket that a much younger Kybuck Clan had presented him with, as proof of his honourary adoption into their creche clan. (Reeft had been the one to source the yarn and he’d picked it for Quin’s qukuuf and, as dressellians saw a slightly different light spectrum, resulted in the violently highlighter yellow. It was absolutely drenched with love and comfort and safety and it was still one of his most treasured possessions.)

Definitely his rooms then. The blanket was inviolable.

He steps inside, the door swishing quietly closed behind him. The light hums very faintly, warm and welcoming. He drops his bag next to the door.

On the little half bench is the large novelty tankard that made its way home with them after his Knighting, a ridiculous home for a thick spill of bright rhoden flowers on their woody stalks. They smell like green things and nectar and the first time he realised he wanted to hold Obi’s hand and reflexively started talking about anything else and, well, the rhoden bush was there. He walked away with a strong need to meditate for several hours after having inadvertently convinced Obi-Wan that he had very strong opinions and preferences in flowers. Quin guessed that now he did after having one of his favourite people gift them to him so many times.

He breathes in the scent of the rhodens and closes his eyes and can’t fight the lightness that enters his chest.

He isn’t sure what option takes him out at the knees more: Obi-Wan keeping flowers freshly in his rooms just in case, or if he had felt a premonition of his return and made sure it would be a pleasant one.

Deciding to process that when he isn’t running on stim shots and caf, he crosses to the ‘fresher and has the slowest quick clean-up ever. He doesn’t have to move fast so there’s no pressure and therefore he moves like tree sap through ditching his clothes into the hamper to take to the laundry chute later, checks for any damage he might have missed – luckily not – and crawls into the shower to be clean.

His soap sliver has been replaced with a new bar in his usual scent and now Quinlan is having soap feelings because obviously he picked it up barehanded in the kriffing shower and there’s a flash of Obi-Wan and comfort-home safe – peace radiating off it even more than Temple-made soaps usually do – and now he’s crying in the shower, y’know, just a little bit, in a calm and measured Jedi sort of way because he’s loved, he’s so loved-

Quinlan?

Oh, and now he’s woken up the catalyst of his little breakdown.

The sleepy presence gets clearer as Obi-Wan becomes more alert, so Quin only has a moment to stabilise his breathing and press surprise-affection at him while carefully shielding off the rest of the mess. Obi-Wan pauses and then glows back pleasure-affection and that edge of alarmed alertness drops away.

Quin lets the bond go quiet again. He shuffles the rest of the way through getting clean and dry basking in the echo he’d gotten from the soap, and ambles into his bedroom for a clean sleep tunic to find that the sheets are laundry fresh and turned down already.

He stops and stares. There’s a couple of hydropacks on the little table next to the bed where he usually keeps his ‘comm. The sleep tunic he was about to look for is neatly folded on his pillow.

He’s fairly sure it’s going to be soap all over again in here. Worse, probably, since the fibres hold impressions better than something as soft and squashy as soap.

He’s going to sleep so well.

The tunic is like being wrapped in a hug and he almost slides right into bed before he remembers the lights. He doesn’t honestly trust his fine control at this level of tired, and last time he’d risked it for that biscuit he’d broken his heating element somehow, so he drags himself back out to flip them off and sniff his flowers one last time.

There’s a very quiet tap, tap at his door.

Quin can’t deny the sudden speeding of his heart. He carefully makes his way over and keys the door open-

Obi-Wan’s sleepy face is the best homecoming. He’s heavy-eyed and his hair is kind of a mess and he has pillow marks on his cheek and forehead. He’s wearing a sleep tunic that used to be Quinlan’s because it’s way too fucking broad in the shoulders, and he walked here from his rooms in the middle of the night -read: way too early in the kriffing morning – despite being only half-conscious it looks like - for him.

He also, upon the door opening, beams at him and what else can Quin do, really, except swoop him up and into his arms and his rooms?

Obi clearly approves, if the way he winds his arms around Quin’s shoulders and snuggles in is any indication. Quinlan clings a little tighter and tucks his face into Obi’s neck and inhales the soap-and-skin scent of him. He gets a shiver for his trouble, a tremble and a tiny intake of breath and a slightly raspy, “Missed you, Quin.”

“Yeah.” His voice shakes just a bit, “Yeah, I’m getting that feeling. I missed you too, babe.”

And he’s tired, he’s so tired, but he has Obi-Wan all sleep-warm and soft in his arms and when he nuzzles closer Obi shivers again and angles his head away to give him more room, and he’s maybe not that tired, actually. He gets to sleep in tomorrow anyway.

Affection and attraction and interest are uncoiling in the Force between them, weaving through all the missed you and long mission and glad you’re home and same same same same. It’s overwhelming in the best way, much like the way that Obi-Wan is mouthing at his collarbone, and twitching under Quin’s hands as he strokes down his sides, his back, his hips.

“What woke me up?” Obi-Wan asks breathlessly, running his nails down Quin’s arm and dragging his tunic up. “The blanket? The conservator filled with your favourites?”

“Considering I didn’t know you’d gotten to either of those, no.” Quinlan pants, ditching his shirt before tugging him closer and toppling both of them onto the couch. “It was the kriffing soap.”

His entirely too devious lover lights up and then proceeds to kiss him so deeply that his brain leaks out of his ears. Worth it, he thinks, dizzy and lustdrunk, and trying very hard to remove Obi-Wan’s tunic. Worth all of it to come home to this.

“Bant and Garen helped with the blanket,” Obi-Wan tells him far too cheerfully for the blown-out pupils and expression of absolute focus aimed at him, “And, yes, very worth it. You’re projecting, my dear.”

“Good thing it’s on the other arm then or we’d be confusing their very nice contribution with all our sex vibes.”

“You’re too good for sex vibes now? Quin, what a terrible mission this must have been!”

“That-” Quin pulls him back down against his chest, nuzzling at his jaw, “-is absolutely not what I said. You are a demon.”

Obi-Wan is losing the fight to keep his eyes open – Quin knows all his soft spots and lays siege accordingly. “I am the definition of a delight- ah, darling, yes-”

It’s so much, Quin thinks muzzily as they twist to lie sideways, legs tangled and mouths hungry and hands knowing exactly where to touch, it’s so much to know you like this, to hold you.

It is so much to crawl through misery in the hopes of helping and get to come back to you.

Obi-Wan moans and his presence goes all brilliant, “Projecting, Quin.”

Quinlan knows. He tightens his grip on both of them and lets that wave of wonder-joy- so loved wash over and through them and everything is bright bright bright in time with his hand – their hands -

They unspool together, Force presences knit loose and comfortable and sprawling as much as they are in the crude matter on his couch.

Obi-Wan stirs first. He lifts his head enough to squint sleepily at Quinlan. “Welcome home,” he says, and it would be teasingly dry if his voice were less wrecked. Mostly, he sounds like he’s just had a staggering orgasm. Which, Quin is pleased to say, he has.

He gets a raised eyebrow for the incredibly smug expression he can feel on his face but the eyebrow of doom isn’t nearly as effective when he can’t keep his eyes fully open and also hasn’t stopped smiling. “I feel fairly welcomed.”

“Fairly?” Obi says, and he manages to sound unimpressed. He’s still smiling though.

“Fairly,” Quin agrees, “I might need another round to be sure.”

Ah, there’s the bitchy expression he loves so much. “Darling, I’m not sure you can even walk to bed now.”

“If you really wanted to welcome me home-” he wheezes and breaks off at the jab to his gut. “Peace! Force, Obes, so violent. I just got home!”

He gets an eyeroll and a very gentle kiss for his shit-stirring, which isn’t exactly good strategy to convince him not to shit-stir, Obi-Wan. Obi rolls off him in search of a clean cloth – which nails him in the face a moment later, so he found them – and reappears with the judgemental eyebrow back in play.

He is positively harassed off the couch (with a hand up and an arm around his waist) and bullied into bed (snuggled against Obi-Wan’s back) and behaves entirely the whole time (narrowly misses an elbow to the chest for making a “well, come!” pun).

He buries his face into Obi-Wan’s hair and takes a moment to memorise how it feels to lie here and hold him close and safe with the promise of getting to wake up to him for once. Obi soothes a hand over the arm around his waist when he tenses and then goes lax again.

He snuggles closer. “Missed you.”

Obi-Wan is quiet, and for a moment Quinlan thinks he’s already drifted off. Then, Obi links their hands together and lifts them to press a soft, lingering kiss to the palm of his hand. “Missed you too.” he murmurs as Quin goes over all shivery from the feelings pressed gently into his skin. And he thought the soap was bad. Good. A lot. “Woke up today and knew you were coming home and needed to make sure you knew. You were missed.”

“You were missed.” Quin mumbles back as he loses track of further words. Obi-Wan is too safe and too comfortable and close – the exhaustion rears its head again and this time there is nothing to even try and pull him away from sleep. He’s home and has his partner in his arms and nothing to do for now but to rest. He settles, curling close, and sleeps.

Out in the main room, the kitchen light glows warmly.

@quinobiweek

[voidartisan]

even MORE modern au

bc i was looking at someone else's doodles and got inspired.

Quinlan and Aayla have their own little soap opera going on next door involving Bly, Ventress, and Aayla's bio mom but you only get snippets bc Ahsoka isn't paying attention

Obi-Wan and Satine have a running joke that he married her because she beat him at chess and he couldn't figure out how else to react

Cody is a coach at a neighboring high school (not the high school that the kids in his neighborhood attend) and also teaches geography

If the au were in its Ideal Form (television sitcom) you wouldn't see Fox's face (wearing sunglasses, head out of frame, back to camera, etc.) until he meets Riyo for the first time, at which point he lowers his mirrored shades to look her in the eyes properly.

Tup draws. constantly. if you leave a piece of paper near him for longer than two minutes it will come away with a doodle

Everyone has basically forgotten that nuclear families are the "norm" bc this neighborhood is just so full of unusual family constructions. Couple raising nephew, younger brother, and adopted daughter? Sure! Single dad and daughter? Great! Aunt and niece? Welcome to the club! An unspecified but very large rotating group of "brothers" with no parents around? Why not!

Ahsoka Rex and Anakin have an eclectic tiktok account/yt channel that’s mostly just them doing a bunch of random stuff. Ahsoka’s skincare routine, Rex and Anakin teaching you how to properly throw a football, Anakin working on his car, comedy sketches, etc.

They have one video of them attempting to make a pineapple upside down cake that did go semi-viral bc there’s a shot where you can see Obi-Wan walking into the kitchen, seeing the mess, and going through all five stages of grief in the background

Baby Leia has Obi-Wan wrapped around her little finger for the first ten or so years of her life

Yoda gives out one (1) full size candy bar every Halloween to the most impressive costume, which creates an unofficial costume contest. he has super weird criteria for "impressive," though, and it seems to shift from year to year...

Mace LOVES scavenger hunts (a la Ron Swanson) and Depa sets up increasingly complicated ones for his birthday each year (tbh I might not limit this one to the modern au)

[whataboutsimple]

So, let me just put it clear

ANY ship with Gabriel X Old Order member is toxic actually, Gabriel just can't behave himself around them like he truly is, and they are too used to him being obeying Warroir that they don't really consider his feelings important

And yet I will ship it until I die

[catboydogma]

envie si grande et menaçante

grandiose - pomme

wc: 4,475

notes: the long-awaited vox fic for @meerlichtz :) this has been in my drafts for so long that i think it put me on (semi-unintentional) hiatus. yes, this fic is quite possibly the reason why i've written .2 fics for the last 32 years. regardless despite all the horrors i had a ton of fun writing this and hope u enjoy meer :)

summary: one Jedi Shadow Quinlan Vos gets stuck in the Coruscant Guard's medbay recovering from a mission gone meiloorun-shaped. This goes about as well as expected.

“You are not allowed to die on me,” Fox snarled, reining in the urge to shake the Jedi by the fronts of his tabards. For General Gallia to leave Fox to babysit this asshat and then have this asshat die on him was unconscionable. Fox had never failed a mission objective in his life, and he wasn’t about to let some muscle-headed Jedi change that. 

“Me?” Vos grinned. His teeth were stained pink with claret; Fox could see it foaming at the corners of his mouth, lips and tongue a ruddy crimson with it. “Why would I die when I have so many better things to be doing on you?”

Mission parameters could be flexible. Surely General Gallia wouldn’t mind that much if Vos disappeared—quietly—discreetly—

“Whoops. Now that’s a scary face.” Vos mimed zipping his lips shut. The effect was only partially ruined by the tremor in his hands, now getting worse.

“Shut up.” Fox leaned even more of his weight into the hands keeping pressure on Vos’ abdomen and ribs, ignoring Vos when he wheezed something about his ribs. A few cracked ribs wouldn’t kill the Jedi, but the hole in his chest would, even if the blaster shot had only just missed his lungs. “Medevac, ETA?”

“Closing in on your location now,” Thire reported. “Hold your position.”

“It’s worse than it looks,” Vos said airily.

“Commander Thire can be the judge of that.” Fox felt his lips draw back in a near-unconscious snarl but he kept his hands and voice steady. There was no telling how fragile a natborn could be, even one with Jedi capabilities and training.

“Commander Thire is calling bullshit on that, unless the blood loss is starting to affect the good General’s vision.” Thire arrived with two full squads of backup: he and another Corrie medic dropped to their knees beside Vos, ushering Fox out of the way as Fox started to direct cleanup efforts.

This Jedi had an uncanny ability for making situations devolve before Fox’s very HUD. General Gallia had left on a relief mission to the Outer Rim yesterday, at which point Fox had met her temporary replacement—one Knight Vos, Jedi Shadow and relentless flirt. From what limited intelligence Fox had managed to gather, Vos was conducting covert ops on Coruscant, which made it convenient for him to be stationed at the CGHQ with the Guard. He’d gone out at some point last night for what he’d cited to be “super top-secret party business,” missed his early morning check-in, and turned up two klicks from HQ mid-afternoon sans four pints of blood. Fox recalled the squads he’d sent out in search of Vos after he’d missed check-in, sent another to scour the area for traces of Vos’ attackers, and ignored the increasingly amused conversation Thire was having with the Jedi behind him.

more on ao3

[allanalightwood]

I'VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS ALL NIGHT LAST NIGHT.

On Coruscant:

Some teenager to their friend's holocam: GREETINGS! We're playing fuck, marry, kill today... AH a victim. *runs to the Corrie guard near a coffee stand 'patrolling', the cam is shaky as the cameraman holding said holocam is running.*

teenager 1: Hello there, sir! Would you like to play a game? *pans to the fucking Commander of the Guard holding a cup of caf still wearing his bucket*

Fox: *sighs*

Thorn and Jek, somewhere in the background: Go on, sir!

Fox: Fine. What is it?

Teenager 1: Fuck, marry, kill Jedi edition.

Thorn: *actually choking on laughter*

Teenager 2: *laughing behind the cam*

Teenager 1, immediately: Luminara Unduli, Quinlan Vos, and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

Fox, is standing so still staring at the kid through the visor: Marry Unduli, Kill Vos... MOVING ON.

then his comm chirps. what the fuck do you mean palpatine's dead? HE'S A SI- WHAT?

the video's posted on space internet. BAM chaos ensues.

[robotsandramblings]

((sorry but I purposefully left out Plo Koon bc he's a huge favourite and I figured he'd sweep up the votes; plus I think it already goes without saying we'd all love a Plo & Rex episode lol))

[palfriendpatine66]

Nobody talk to me I’m playing with my dolls

[greetings-humans]

yes but what if quinlan vos survived order 66 and the jedi purge

what if quinlan vos met up with any of the other characters we know

can you imagine cal kestis having someone like quinlan around, to help with psychometry but also to be weird influences at each other about the dark side

can you imagine quinlan vos joining the ghost crew because I would murder to see jaded feral not-dark-sider-but-barely quinlan being bullied into friendship by them-

actually. DIDNT THE KENOBI SHOW TELL US THAT QUIN SURVIVED??? WHY IS NO ONE USING THAT

[victoriahughes]

So originally the multi chaptered Vorrester fic I planned to write was going to be last series, before Jamie left. Buuut, this weeks episode got me thinking about it again and I'm kinda tempted to do it this series instead. I do miss Jamie, but I'm loving the new aditions to the team, and loving the new office layout and stuff. And hello can we just talk about Scott's office, HELL YEAH. And that's given me an idea for a possible one shot.

And in case anyone has forgotten what I'm talking about, it's the one (currently only have one multi chaptered fic in the works right now) with this snippet.

Having an emotional breakdown in the toilets of a hospital in Florence wasn’t really how Cameron imagined her day going when she woke up that morning.