#Star Wars HEadcanons
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yknow how Obi-wan and Quinlan are really close friends and that probably means Aayla and Anakin have a weird sibling/cousin relationship. and that make way for some really funny stuff.
for example, the jedi got to pick battalion colors at the beginning of the war, and Aayla's blue right? so she's like, "hm, it'd be fun if i matched with my men right?", and she goes the next morning and find out that Anakin, the little shit, has already taken blue. He doesn't even like blue.
and thats my little headcanon about how the 501st ended up being painted blue.
#im not saying anakin's the annoying baby sibling but im not not saying it either#just imagine all the shit they get up to#and aaylas master was quinlan theres no way shes sane#clone wars#star wars#star wars headcanons#the 501st#aayla secura#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#quinlan vos#star wars the clone wars#the clone wars#the clones#attack of the clones#sw tcw
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If Jedi had TikTok
So I was imagining a TikTok trend that would basically just be the Jedi/Padawans looking all presentable and perfectly Jedi perfect ™ saying “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” and then immediately cutting to whatever chaos they are currently engaged in, for example:
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Qui Gon says, immediately before being shown adopting another ‘pathetic life form’ that may will cause them trouble later
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Obi Wan says, before decapitating a battle droid behind him without even looking at it
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Anakin says, as he replaces all of Windu’s regular caff with decaf
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Ashoka says, as she helps Fives and Hardcase balance a bucket of glitter above Rex’s doorway
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Plo says, as he forces encourages C3-PO to tell Wolffe his latest tales of woe™ and R2 drama
• “Jedi, we are; keepers of the peace, our responsibility is.” Yoda says, before telling several younglings that if they keep copying the Temple Guards they’ll freeze and get stuck that way
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Quinlan says, then just… you know, exists how he does
• “We’re Jedi, we’re impartial peacekeepers” Plo Koon says, sprinkling ‘How to Unionize’ pamphlets around the barracks like confetti
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Obi Wan says, before arguing politely engaging with every political figure in the room just for the heck of it
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Leia says, before teasing the man breaking her out of a literal cell in the middle of space about his height
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Luke says, before replacing Han’s hair gel with glue
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Kanan says, calmly to the camera, before proceeding to promptly turn around and scream “SHUT THE KRIFF UP I SWEAR TO FORCE I WILL MURDER YOU ALL IF YOU DONT GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW”
• “We’re Jedi, we’re peacekeepers” Ezra says, as he sprints away from Zeb who is quite suddenly and mysteriously COVERED in hair dye (thanks, Sabine!)
#please add more#star wars incorrect quotes#incorrect star wars quotes#incorrect clone wars quotes#star wars clone wars#star wars rebels#incorrect rebels quotes#Obi wan#star wars anakin#ahsoka tano#plo koon#Yoda#quinlan vos#kanan jarrus#ezra bridger#luke skywalker#leia organa#star wars#sw tcw#star wars tcw#star wars headcanons#the clone wars
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Hair model who???
I swear Star Wars robbed us of giving quin some more interesting hairstyles. I’ve always found dreads to be some of the most beautiful and versatile hairstyles out there, so I hope I did them some justice here 💛
Quinlan I think would have def braided aaylas silka beads into his hair before he took her on as a Padawan, ya know just for safekeeping 🩵
Also just lemme know if you guys want more info on wth I mean by “married vos” and his tattoos cuz I have some THOUGHTS (inspired by fic Resilience on ao3, though the account is unfortunately orphaned)
#I will never stop drawing this man#and yes when I say married#i mean#quinobi#but this is also just my take on kiffar marriage culture as a whole#so if you don’t ship it you can apply it#to whoever you ship quin w#we are multi shippers in this household#quinfox#is also golden#padawan quinlan vos#quinlan vos#quinlan vos fanart#obiquin#starwars fanart#star wars headcanons
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⋆。˚ ☁︎ ˚。Acolyte⋆。˚☽˚。⋆
𐙚Yandere! Qimir/The Master x Reader
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Plot: Your loneliness is suffocating, engulfing. Qimir is the only one who seems to subdue the pain. But every forbidden fruit has its price.
⁀➷Warnings: Yandere behavior, gore, angst (at the end), author having an anxiety attack over this fic
🪐Note: Why is the longest thing I've ever written for a fandom that barely exists? Anyway, here's the long-awaited Qimir piece!
⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ : Disturbia - Rihanna, Dark Vacay & Motion Picture Soundtrack - CAS
⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆🍓⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺
Your master's anger is tangible. You harbour it stubbornly on your tongue. Relishing in the frustration. You aren't sure how many times you've cut out your soul to place at a master's feet. Gnawing on perfect lips to keep quiet during another scolding. Your new master's disappointment reverberates through the room. Thick and oozing like an infected wound.
You messed up again.
"We do not injure other padawans during training. We do not lash out and attack, especially when your training partner has fallen. How have you trained for so long without comprehending these basics?"
The rage that boils inside you is not Jedi in nature. It's something else, a bizarre second, something ancient, ghoulish. An all-consuming fire that burns inside your veins. It shouldn't feel so welcoming, so familiar.
You roll your eyes.
"With all due respect master. How is one to win, if they do not strick when given the opportunity? That too should be a basic notion, no?"
You see the anger snake across your master's face. A defeated, disgruntled, glance that you've become a bit too acquainted with. This is the look that all your previous masters give you. And yet none have yet to master its eeriness quite as well as your first master. Master Sol.
Your master sighs, a piercing noise, deflating every ounce of his willpower. You are exhausting to be around, his annoyance is becoming discernible. "Master Sol is coming by the temple to check your...progress. He's requested a few items to take back with him. Please go fetch them from the apothecary."
Progress is a gentle word and Jedi love using gentle words. It's easier to say than the full truth. Sugar-coated things always taste better.
But the sugar refuses to stick to you.
It burns away in your bitterness.
Coruscant is a distant memory, it was never your home to begin with. But the high bustling volume is something that is hard to forget. Here things are quiet, you slip through the bazaar undetected. Small basket clutched tightly. You wonder what's dragging your former master halfway across the galaxy. You wonder if it's really just to see you.
You gaze blankly at the holographic list. A few rare herbs and some medical roots. This planet grows them in abundance, and the local apothecary carries more than its fair share.
The apothecary is an old, disheveled thing. The older Jedi say that its presence is as old as the temple itself. Odd how some things have a will of iron. You gently rap at the worn metal door, waiting for an invitation to enter. The hinges cry as the door opens ever so slightly. You squeeze in, surveying the cluttered den. Careful to avoid the half-empty bottles and neon puddles scattered across the floor.
"Excuse me" your voice holds an urgent annoyance. Where is the pharmacist? What kind of store owner abandons their shop in the midday? You run your fingers across the strange bottles, letting your nails pick at the murky glass. The colors flash, begging to be freed, strange space pinks, and summer oranges all trapped inside square prisons. Baby poisons dying to taste the world, burning it if they must, but experiencing it nonetheless, tasting their own form of freedom. Funny, they almost remind you of yourself.
Trapped and fatal.
"Hello?", the voice behind you is languid, dozy. Mirroring a late afternoon nap. When the man next speaks you notice a lyrical lint "What brings you here little lady?". You turn to see it, the voice, or rather the man harboring the voice. He's loosely robed and shaggy in the way that only the most spirited vagabonds are. He smiles tenderly upon seeing your face, strange red fruit caught between his teeth. "I um...I" you click your tongue anxiously against the roof of your mouth. Feeling around for those pesky words, in the end, you just shove the hologram holder forward, hoping he'll understand.
"Oh, I see, out here doing some chores?" You nod, mind preoccupied with the otherwordly fruit. "what's that?" you ask, schoolgirl curiosity lacing your voice. "What, this?" he asks holding the freckled thing between his fingers, it's only in the mild light that you notice the shimmering gold scattered across its red skin. The stranger laughs, walking closer, he places the hologram base on the black table, clicking it on as he studies the list. "They're called strawberries. They're from the forest planets, not many grow here in the mid-rims." He's nimble as he packs the herbs and roots, fumbling with the straw ties. "care for a bite" he asks, handing you the bitten fruit.
Hesitantly you bite.
Letting the sweetness erupt on your tongue.
"Thank you" you mumble trying not to moan at the foreign taste. The stranger laughs, it's a cheery noise like birds chirping in first bloom tress. "you're a Jedi, aren't you?" he asks stepping around the table, eyebrows furrowed, caught in a dream he doesn't seem to understand. You choke on the rogue static as he steps closer, eyes half-lidded dreaming of nothing. "Here..."
"Wha-" your voice catches in your throat, it's getting harder to breathe.
"Your supplies" He hands you the brown paper bag, motion a little too phlegmatic to be right.
"Oh, right...thanks" You anxiously shove the bag into your basket and scurry out of the shop. Holding your breath.
"Come back soon." the voice chirps behind you.
Your old master arrives by spaceship, a newer, albeit worn model. The landing pad ejects to reveal a small escort.
Master,
Knight,
Padwan,
Apostate,
You stand still watching as they descend. Bits of envy bubble in your throat watching your former master and his band of little heroes. You wish you had their belonging. Forgoing the loneliness to find kinsmanship with your coterie. You swallow down the bitter thoughts as they finally approach you.
Master Sol's smile reaches his eyes. Gentle and wise. The true epidemy of a Jedi in every sense of the word. Funny how he now has two failures under his belt. None of which are capable of scratching his shining repute.
His hands are on your shoulders, bright smile. "My padawan, it's been too long." You try to bow, awkwardly and stiffly. "Mater Sol, I'm grateful you've come to asses my progress". If he hears your doubt he doesn't show it. Instead, he reintroduces you to Yord, Jacki, Osha.
You try to be polite. Gulp down the awkwardness
You imagine the taste of strawberries on your tongue.
Remember their stiff sweetness and prickly tasteless freckles.
You smile. Easier this time.
They'll stay here for some time. Hunting assassins and documenting progress in their free time. Jacki seems more invested in your training than you are, trying to teach you everything she knows. At least she doesn't mind the rough play, the violent strikes, and sloppy prideful defenses. She speaks in pointers and parries. She's the one to drag you along these assassin hunts. Welcoming you...or at least trying to.
But there is something else at play. Darker, broader, Sol and Jecki welcome you into the fray. Yet you still feel your old master's hesitance, he's still wary of you. Worried about your anger, your defiance.
The distance grows, some icy void.
Sol used to tell you fairytales. This was back when you'd been young and bright-eyed. Freshly welcomed into the order and still overflowing with artless hope for a colorful future.
But even back then, he had known there was something wrong with you.
Looking back it was evident.
Every story started and ended the same. Little princess against the big bad world. Holding out until her prince came along. Only problem was the morals never registered right in your little messed-up brain.
Why didn't the princess fall for the dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones? Why didn't she swoon and sigh over someone rousing, compelling? A paradox wrapped in black ember? Why settle for a sun-painted prince, with no complexities, no mysteries to unravel?
You would have married the dragon, or the wolf, or the tyrant king with a crown of bones.
Even back then, it was evident something was wrong.
The temple's roof isn't restricted per se.
It's rather abandoned as opposed to forbidden.
Maybe that's why you find solace here. The abandonment feels familiar, similar. The chipped cement kisses the soles of your feet, you imagine it's something like walking upon the rough terrain of a star.
You breathe in the night air deeply.
Expecting the fragile scents of moonshine and star glitter.
Instead, you choke on heavy mist and blood-drenched air.
The thing standing in front of you isn't human. It can't be human. It's created from the blackness, ebony in all the ways a living thing shouldn't be. For a second you think you're staring at a black hole. No doubt this creature crawled out of one.
What sheer willpower one must need to drag themselves out of endless nothingness?
"Little Jedi should not brave the night alone."
It speaks
"There are far too many monsters roaming in the dark"
Its face never moves, statue in all the ways the figures towering over the entrance aren't. This statue is something else, a lost page to some forgotten epic. Carved from gems born in darkness. Evil and rotten.
"What are you?" your voice susurrate, quivering in this surreal scene. The air is thicker now, overflowing with raw static.
Your fingers itch for your saber. Only when the cold metal kisses your palm do you regain some semblance of reality.
The hiss, the green light.
The figure chuckles.
Its voice bouncing from every direction. Everywhere all at once. When it speaks the air cackles, raining as if it were a frightened child.
"I am something akin to you, another child of the force" His voice comes out distorted, uneven in tone. "I am what's birthed when one learns of the true strength of the force."
Your body moves on its own, feet kicking the ground sprinting faster and faster before the final leap. You aim for the helmet, for the morbid toothy grin permanently etched within steel. In a flash the word stills, floating around you like fluorescent bubbles, the rain tumbles around you, curving and diving for the wet ground. It dares not land on something within his grasp.
You feel the slithering across your body. They start from the ground, summed from the unknown depths. Clinging firmly to your ankles before inching up your knees, your hips, your neck.
long, slipper tendrils curling around your body. The figure watches, bare arm outstretched. You should probably be focused on how the unseen things are inching closer to your mouth. Not on the toned muscles and limber fingers of the monster. Not on how, for a fraction of a heartbeat, his smile appears genuine, caring, aimed straight at you.
Only You
They finally reach your lips, prying your teeth ajar and flooding your mouth. Sinking deeper and deeper into your soul, your mind, you.
The smile grows.
In a blink you're suspended in the space between worlds, dark damning thing cradling your body.
"The dark side once belonged to the Jedi, yet they chose to discard it. Deeming it malignant, ungovernable."
Your weightlessness unnerves you. You're malleable in this void.
"Those few who embraced its calling were dubbed Sith." He says the word with such fervent pride. Devoted to it's weight and all it carries. You try to roll the word off your own tongue only for it to burn the roof of your mouth.
The stranger stalks closer, lethal and lithe.
The void vibrates, the darkness bends to his will.
He reaches down to cup your face. His fingers feel warm, welcoming. You nuzzle into his palm, fighting the urge to kiss each finger and suck on the dark force they emit. "You..." he starts, his voice shakes you to the core. Its horror amplifies with the proximity. You wonder if it'll cut through steel, armor, flesh.
your flesh.
"You aren't like the other temple dwellers. You have potential."
His thumb presses your lower lip, demanding entrancing. You comply, needing to feel something solid.
Something you've been denied your whole life.
"They keep you locked away. Trading you between craven masters. Seeing who can tame you first."
He nicks his thumb on your teeth,
Pressing bone into dentin.
His essence drips into you.
He tastes of power.
Of dark, dreadful things you can not name.
"They do not know how to train you. How to use your power..."
The world crumbles, ebony midnights giving way to reality. You feel yourself fall, plunging through the air like a comet bent on destruction.
"They only break you further"
Your knees collide with the harsh ground. Skin splintering in the aftermath giving way to bruises and bloodmarks.
The ground feels too solid beneath you.
A poly, a ruse.
You all but expect to melt through it. Slipping and falling into the vacuum, into him, once more.
He hovers above. Absolute in his strength. You're beginning to believe that blackholes birth divinity. Eyes shimmering with fanatic fidelity, staring up at the holy creature commanding the storm.
"Teach me..."
You've never begged for anything so terribly in your life.
But you need this.
this power
this control.
him.
Sol never told just how the princess met the villain.
He never said it wasn't love at first fright.
Sol insists that the local apothecary knows the truth behind the Jedi-killer. Definite that the unseemly man can tell you something important. He sends Osha inside to play Mea. To get the man to talk.
You crowd around the communicator urging back giggles. Yord's chin is placed upon your shoulder and Jecki's cheek rests against yours. Their touches come so early. And yet they are utterly alien.
"He will be so pleased." No sooner have the words chime from the corroded speakers that Sol is ushering you all towards the small metal hut.
Yord entwines his fingers with you as he runs.
Jacki wraps around your arm.
You feel at times they are trying to tame you.
Befriend the feral puppy they found in the backyard.
The apothecary's face is utterly stunned. He's stammering over his words fear glistening in his eyes as he stares at Sol. "Please, please don't wipe my memories. Or whatever it is you Jedi do." A rosy blush colors your cheeks, at his terror. It's terribly amusing seeing someone so carless, anxiously list off everything he knows. You almost feel bad for the poor scared man.
There isn't anything important here. But Sol decides that you will all return at midnight. The Jedi-killer will be back. Apparently, Qimir -that's his name, that the strawberry-eating, disheveled pharmacist's name- is holding something of value for her.
There's a tug on your wrist as you go to follow the others. Gentle and firm as he pulls you to his chest. "Come by tonight. I'll have some strawberries waiting for you." why does he feel too genuine? When you turn to look at him, he's painted in his usual sweet carefree smile that tugs at your heart.
He looks so innocent...
Starlight really brings out his eyes. He's laughing with a nervous smile,
School-boy crush on full display. You're licking strawberry juice from your hands as you listen to him talk. Backs pressed against the rusty wall and bodies half sprawled in the dirt. He's telling you about the first time the Hutts made him retrieve a plushie for their son from another solar system.
Qimir's voice feels like rose peddles melting into your skin. Sweet, jejeune, free. You offer him a berry from your pile. Watching tentatively as he submerges the red fruit into his mouth. Missing your fingers by an inch. He's laughing after the fact, head thrown back as if he's about to engulf the stars. You decide to laugh too.
"Are you really that lonely," he says in a voice that's almost not his own. You're not expecting the invasive question, although you guess he means well. The words still cut deep. Piercing through the laughter, stunning you for a breath too long. "No...I'm a Jedi, we do not-"
"Form personal connection. I know...But you just look so lonely." He shuffles closer, the dirt particles almost look celestial in this light. Your fingers pitch a civil war. Pinching and clawing at each other. "No, yes. I don't really get along with the others." He rolls his eyes, bored and amused in the same breath. "Yeah, no wonder your money." He's picking at another strawberry, letting the crunch fill up the silence. You're beginning to think he just likes having something to chew on. Gulping down the anxiety with something toothsome.
He's a little closer now, fingers gingerly tucking back your hair. His fingerprints reverberate across the shell of your ear. Lips gliding against yours. You swallow as his lips fall across yours, pushing sweet stars past parted lips. He tastes of odd things, whimsy things. Everything you'll never come to understand. Xeno fruits and asteroid fields. His fingers glide up your arms, leaving moondust in their wake. He slowly parts, holding you softly with his soulful dark eyes
"You taste so sweet"
Strawberry, Starberry, You kiss him a little too deeply.
Maybe your new master is right.
Maybe there are other ways of being a Jedi.
The movie playing is doused in shades of rose and lilac. Gentle in all the ways. Everyway. The twi'lek girl is in love with the zabrak boy and their families do not approve. You think you remember Sol telling you a similar tale.
The makeshift auditorium is cozy. Brown couch housing the three of you and your armada of blankets and popcorn buckets. Jacki's head is in your lap, you're playing with the end of her braid imagining the hair to be the lace of a Love-sick girl's ballgown. Yord's arm traverses the length of your arm, absentminded as he studies the motion picture, poking holes in the lose rose-tainted plot. Your head rests against his broad shoulder taking in his new cologne.
Maybe you really did miss them.
Jacki reaches for the popcorn, offering you some before shoving a handful into her mouth. You think the little symmetry-less kernels would taste better with a strawberry glaze. Qimir flashes across your mind, smiling sweetly as he tilts his head.
You think you're a little too similar to the star on screen.
Pinning after forbidden love,
Forbidden power.
Master Sol is growing acutely aware of your drastic improvements. He's noticed the betterment in your offense, your defense. To the way, you wield your saber, your techniques, and yourself. There is esteem in the way he smiles. In the words of praise, you've longed to hear. But you notice the lingering glances, the undertone of skepticism and worry when he asks about practice. He doesn't need to know of the black-glad creature that trains you in the unholy hours.
He doesn't need to know how beautifully your new master sculpts your rage into lessons. Teaching you how to wrangle the force and control it. How to use it to make the world bow.
These things will remain secret. For you fear Sol and the others will strip them of you. Strip them of the new master you've come to worship.
"Do you think people glow when they fall in love?" Jacki's voice is filled with sleep. Eyes closed as she murmurs remnants of movie memory. "No, I don't believe they do" you answer. "too...bad" There was a yawn there darling and vigorous like the rests of her. She looks so sweet like this, infantile in all the ways she can't be. Little girl dreaming of something impossible. You wonder if Sol's told her the fairytales too. You kiss the crown of her head, your baby sister you think. And big brother Yord, snoring with his head thrown back.
Maybe you should test her theory. rising softly from the couch you make your way to the door. Throwing one final glance at your sleeping siblings. Before going to find Qimir.
His lips ghost over yours, spilling star-clad secrets between each kiss. The apothecary has never been so dark, so secret, so secluded. Qimir's lips glided across your neck biting the flesh and licking the little diamond droplets of blood. Your nails rack across his spine, the wool of his throw-over itching the backs of your hands. "So precious" he mumbles, voice ridden with want, need. it's criminal how desperately he needs to feel you. You writhe under him, "Qimir, kiss." you whine. His lips feel like a lifeline, something keeping you sain. He pushes fireflies and lava pearls inside you, carving you open and enjoying you
He always enjoys you.
It's foggy outside when his tongue clashes against yours. A thick unsettling mist banging against the darkened window. "You're custom-made for me" Qimir mumbles against your lips. "Custome tailored" you boldly correct. "ummm, sure" his hands pinch at your hips, clawing mindlessly and leaving tails to your thighs. But the sensations are growing distant, you hear the heavy hum of saber activation. You psyche cracks
The world is dark,
He alone is absolute.
Your master's mask flashes dangerously across your mind. "Master Sol would be disappointed". You've heard that line a million times. Still, the words cut a little too deep coming from your demiurger. "Gullible" you don't understand, what have you done to earn his rage? He's gone, leaving you in the emptiness, you taste the charcoal from the landscape under your tongue.
Still, you long to call after him.
"Master"
The darkness subsides with the feeling of softness across your muscles. A breeze stirs you from the clutches of slumber. "Good morning" Qimir chirps, soft smile greeting you as you open your eyes. "Qimir, when did I?" he laughs, it's such a pretty sound this early in the morning. Sweet like caramel tea. He kisses your forehead. His quietude is commendable, he tries to calm you with feather-light kisses. You laugh pushing the covers away and still. Frozen.
What's this
The nightgown is lacy and short. It drapes expensively against your skin. Marring it with its tenderness. "Qimir, what's this!" he chuckles, "I couldn't let you sleep in those robes, they looked uncomfortable." You want to argue, to scream, and be angry. But the rage boils down slowly as you notice something dangling around your wrist. A bangle, and an anklet you notice later, black and gold entwined in patterns mirroring lighting stricks. "They're from Korriban, I had some relatives there." oh, why does that planet sound so familiar? "Thanks, but ask me next time before you go playing dress-up doll with my sleeping body" He pouts and can't help but trail a string of mouthy kisses across his neck. Qimir shuffles pulling you onto his lap. Pushing his nose under your chin. His eyes are honey-deo, adoring and scheming. "But you're mine." The possessive ness that flesh across his face is alarming. So is how tightly he grips your waist. It's only in this state of half-undressed that you begin to notice the taut muscles of his arms.
During your most recent lesson, your master gifts you a ripe juicy strawberry. He says it'll focus you, replenish your wither strength. You eat it a little too quickly, forgetting to savor the pink blush within. You believe too ferociously in everything your master says.
He can never be wrong.
You love the way your new master splatters blood across your sleeves. Be it yours or his enemies. He's started taking you out on his kills, having you watch as he hacks and mauls. His enemies must die, no one who doubts such marvels should be granted the privilege of life.
He's only ever spoken in half-riddles.
"Unfortunately legacy is a fickle thing. Tenacious, fervent, yet frail and erratic. No matter how hematological, we all read our bones differently."
The rain falls to your ragged heartbeat. Fast one minute and slow the next. You stick out your tongue desperate for a few drops. Your body is on fire, every muscle pushed to its limit. But the Force is screaming inside you, thumping dangerously between your fingers. You're ready for the next round. Saber ready and only half mesmerized as your master pulls out another blood-red saber. You charge, rage pumping deliciously through your body.
You forget to ask him where he got the berry from.
The next Jedi to die will be Kelnacca. That's why Sol is dragging all of you to the forest planet of Khofar. You think the name is utterly hilarious, the others don't understand the mirth.
Between briefings and Jacki and Yords packing quarrels. You sneak out to say goodbye to Qimir. Scribbling a half eligible not to leave for your master. But the apothecary is deserted upon your arrival, only a taped note on a half-full mortar.
'Gone to get more Strawberries.
Be back soon.'
You wonder if Khofar has strawberries.
Strawberry, Starberry, you're falling between the cracks of so many.
The Sun on Khofar is red, barely breaching the thick canopy. Maybe it's for the best. This scene is not one to remember, but how can you make yourself forget?
Death looms.
Permanent, Eternal
The fighting began in twilight.
The sky has grown two shades darker since.
He had floated in from the high reaches. You'd almost called out to him, 'master', the words die bitterly on your tongue. His saber ignites in the carnage, light growing redder after each kill. The bodies fall haphazardly stirring the quiet night.
Your saber falls onto the woodchip ground. No sound. He has followed you here. Yet it is not you, he seeks. Your master mask is haunting, in the dark the silver mouth glows bright white. Even against a massacre
the smile never relents.
He twirls the red saber with lethal accuracy, red arc severing another life. 'Take the right!' Jacki screams through the force, her eager voice bouncing inside your cranium. 'Don't' you scream but she's already attacked.
Saber sings saber.
Golden light flickers.
Forward. Backward. Lunge. Parry. Flunge.
Just like you practiced. Back in the quiet of the training room. Is it too late to return to the matted ground and wooden swords? Too late for safe comfort?
You won't take it for granted this time you swear.
Your master attacks with vicious zeal, cutting through the light. His black robes bleeding into the night. Jacki, scurries backward, trying to block with every ounce of strength. In one swift move, she spins freeing herself and assaulting his head with the metal of her weapon.
The mask clutters to the ground.
You scream.
He looks every bit the villain here. Blood drenched, water drenched. Smiling like the wolf in a child's picture book. Qimir's face stares back at you, hair matted to his forehead. He's panting, spent. You've never seen him toil. Dreaming him incapable of harm.
Yet he stands above the corpses. Wolf's teeth bared as he slices through the little girl.
It's been years since Master Sol tucked you into bed. Years since he's read you a story and listened to your baseless questions about romances.
You've finally gotten your answer. Painted in a shade of red indistinguishable from black.
Because the villain is too vile to be loved.
You run, catching the limp corpse before it joins the rest, you cradle her close. Tears landing on the orange of her face. There are no strawberry romances here. No sweet forbidden fruits. Just pain, hollow, empty, rotten. "Jacki" your voice muffles into her robes, rain-soaked, tear-soaked.
"Was that its name?" his voice doesn't sound right. No cheerful hellos or drowsy laughs. It's all menacing now, grating and hollow lilt. "Qimir" you wail, sob half caught in your throat. "It can't be you." He shakes his head, smile crooked and maniacal. "I'm afraid so, little one." The force pushed you up, pulling you to him. Qimirs head tilts, his fingers dancing around your throat. Squeezing squeezing squzing. Your glossy eyes take in his unruly appearance. Even now your master looks utterly perfect. Muscles relaxed as he steals your breath. "Master" you whine, your heart shouldn't be hammering like this, leaping through beats like something lovesick.
"(Y/n)" golden light fills the clearing. Yord runs, Prince Charming in every way you should have loved.
Qimir releases you, only to nestle your neck in the crook of his arm. "Don't worry darling. I'm almost done." He blocks the first attack.
Second, third. Yord scrambles to pull you away, missing each time. "Let her go" The urgency in his voice rattles you. He did love you.
Little sister, little princess.
Why is only starting to make sense now?
There's a crack, so loud it echoes across the woods.
"NO"
Yord's body joins the rest.
no no no
"Where were we?" Qimir is every bit the villain.
The dragon, the wolf, the tyrant king with a crown of bones.
"You lied to me, you killed them. Why, why would you do this."
"Because the Jedi say I can not exist." Sith, right those things were supposed to be evil. Hailing from Koriiban, the evil Jedi forced to flee. And here you were having so readily given yourself to the enemy.
The blood flows free in the rain. Dozens of bodies drained.
There's a river of blood. You kneel by the holy thing, dipping your cupped hands into the crimson. You drink deeply from the massacre thinking it'll taste sweet. Qimir pulls you in holding your throat as he submerges you.
Baptized in blood
The world flashes red.
It feels so free here. Floating weightless, letting everything be. The rage can not find you in these depths. Free like an adrift astromech. Free to float amongst the stars.
When you emerge again. The world has grown brighter. You see the wide-eyed bodies, even Sol is among the dead, you swear you see disappointment in his lifeless orbs. You gulp, swallowing the euphoric faint. You see your new master before you. Swimming to him carefully, following the gentle tug of the force. Prey meets predator. Qimir chuckles, the water is shallow by the banks. He sits awaiting, on his makeshift throne.
There is no sympathy here you should know better
"You took adorable" Qimir rasps. Hot breath fanning your ear. "Master Qimir" you mumble shifting as he pulls you onto his lap. He laughs this is submission, a breath away from grasping his desire. He cups your cheeks, drifting his hands to your shoulders. Pulling you closer, bodies melting into one.
His kisses still taste like strawberries. Sweet and metallic. All possession and domination. Biting lips and tongue and flesh. Spilling fresh poison with each snip of your neck. He licks the blood from your fingers with feral pleasure. Swirling his tongue around each digit and pulling it further down his hungry mouth. You swallow the darkness from his tongue, letting him snuff out the little embers of light. The stars are burning away bit by bit. He pushes you under again.
Mornings on Khofar are dark, caught in a perpetual twilight. Qimir wraps his robes around you letting the midnight sink into your bones. "The ships a bit of a walk. But we should be there before noon." You paddle after him. Fingers lashing awkwardly at his hand. He turns and offers you that tilted smile once more, mask bouncing in his free hand.
"Master qimir" you confess, it feels so light on your tongue. Like clutching dying white-dwarf-stars behind your teeth. He chuckles, snapping a berry from a nearby bush. His smile sings of triumph, victory, earned in blood. He places the fruit amongst your teeth. You, his little war prize.
"My little acolyte"
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Inspired by a post I saw a few weeks ago and forever lost to the tumblr scroll:
The Jedi are not body shy. They are super respectful of their fellow Jedi are from a culture where viewing the body of another is not a-okay and won’t push it, but they definitely view the body as “crude matter” or whatever Yoda says.
The Clones are not body shy. They’re clones, they all practically look like each other, unless they undergo special training. They don’t get things like privacy, and they’re used to it. Don’t be shy about sharing a shower, when the next attack can hit at any moment.
The Jedi are body shy around the Clones, as in “these soldiers don’t get anything, and I want them to have privacy” and will respectfully look away if the Clones are changing.
The Clones are body shy around the Jedi, as in “you don’t just stand there as the Alphas remove their armor and blacks, and you don’t just stand there as our Jedi Generals and Commanders remove their robes and tunics!” and will respectfully look away if the Jedi are changing.
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some (mostly head canon) stuff about mauls anatomy
#digital art#my art#fanart#sketch#sketch page#Star Wars#star wars headcanons#zabrak headcanons#star wars au#star wars fanart#star wars roleplay#darth maul#maul#maul opress#obimaul#obi wan kenobi
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Hiii I’m coming over here to request from youuu >:)
Would you be willing to do some headcanons for an extroverted!Anakin x shy!reader pretty please?
Ilysm babes, have a good dayyy <33
EXTROVERT!ANAKIN X SHY!READER HEADCANONS
Author's note: sorry my dearest pookie you had to wait so long. I did not forget about you :)
TW: public sex
Extrovert!Anakin who basically found you, started to like you, and eventually 'adopted' you' (aka you started dating)
Extrovert!Anakin who had never dared himself to cross your barriers - if you didn't feel like going outside, he stayed with you (if you wanted him to), if you wanted to go somewhere, he went with you (if you wanted him along with you)
Extrovert!Anakin who was sygnifically higher than you, which made you feel less nervous in public. Which was more attractive as well
Extrovert!Anakin who thrives in social situations. He’s charming, bold, and effortlessly the center of attention wherever he goes. Meanwhile, you’re content observing from the sidelines, preferring quiet moments and small groups.
Extrovert!Anakin who becomes protective of your shyness. If anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, he’s quick to step in with that intimidating side of him. He’s not afraid to throw a warning glare if someone is being too forward or pushy.
Extrovert!Anakin who, again, absolutely adores being social (feels low and sad when he's not being social - it's like a need in his life he can't live without), so he often brings you into his friend group, introducing you with pride, his arm around you like he’s keeping you safe.
He knows being the center of attention isn’t your favorite, so he’ll make sure to handle the conversations and steer any much-not-needed attention away from you if you seem to be uncomfortable.
Extrovert!Anakin who's clingy. The second you’re in a more private spot, he’s wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close, and giving you that cute smile. If you’re ever feeling nervous, he’ll just hold you and whisper sweet, goofy things to make you laugh.
He’s not shy about PDA either. You’re constantly holding hands, and he loves sneaking little kisses on your cheek or forehead, making sure you always feel loved and cherished like you deserve to be.
Extrovert!Anakin who's big on helping you grow out of your shell, but he always does it at your pace. He’ll cheer you on with every little step, whether it’s speaking up more or trying something new. He’s your biggest hype man, telling you how proud he is and how amazing you’re doing.
If he notices you getting a little more talkative or comfortable in a situation, he’s over the moon, with that adorable, proud-boyfriend smile that screams love
Extrovert!Anakin who adores the blush that rises to your cheeks when he says something flirtatious or when he’s being openly affectionate in public. He’ll lean in close, whispering something that makes your heart race, just to cherish your shocked, shy expression.
Extrovert!Anakin who, as loud and social as he can be, he often finds that you are his calm. When he’s tired of the chaos and all the things in the words, your body seems to be the very perfect spot to curl to
Extrovert!Anakin who is as clingy as coala, (mostly when you two are alone);
It’s late, and you’re trying to finish a book you’d been reading all week, yet Anakin has other plans. He practically melts against you, wrapping himself around you with a sigh - head nestled in the crook of your neck.
“Can’t you just put that down?” he murmurs, his voice soft and full of that irresistible warmth. “I’ve been waiting all day to hold you like this.”
You laugh, but it’s no use—his arms tighten around you, his legs tangled with yours, practically holding you hostage in the most loving way possible. His eyes are closed, a faint smile playing on his lips as he now buries his face in your shoulder, breathing you in like you’re his entire world.
“Anakin…” you begin, but he only mumbles something sleepy and contented, pulling you even closer. "I'm trying to read.."
“I know,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “But it's so comfortable here..just wanna cuddle"
Extrovert!Anakin who loves to play with your hair. Twirling the strands of it around his slim, long fingers, tucking them behind your ear (which makes you blush as well) or just try to make a very clumsy braid because he is 'bored'
Extrovert!Anakin who often takes you to picnic dates;
Anakin’s fingers interlace with yours as he leads you through the twilight, a woven basket swinging from his other arm. He glances back, his eyes glinting with a childlike excitement that never fails to make you smile.
“I found the perfect spot,” he says, barely able to contain his enthusiasm. “Just under a grand old tree that week ago this couple stole us"
And he’s right. Minutes later, you’re nestled on a blanket beside him, under the perfect shadow from the tree. Anakin has this way of making even the simplest things feel extraordinary. He pulls out treats he insisted on making himself (though you both know the pastries from park's markets are always there as backup). And what's even adorable and incredibly sweet, is his sheepish smile when he takes out more advanced food - cookies, muffins, always saying "well, that actually I made with my mom"
Halfway through, he suddenly picks up a daisy from beside the blanket and tucks it gently behind your ear. “There,” he murmurs, admiring you with an awestruck gaze, like you’re a vision, a muse, a pure sun in the sky full of dark clouds. He’s always like this, brimming with love as if you're his entire world and meaning of existence
Extrovert!Anakin who made love to you in public toilet;
“Look at you,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear, “my sweet, shy girl… who’d ever guess you’d let me take you here, like this?”
You bite back a moan, your body aching with each deep thrust he made. “Feels so good, Ani…”
He grins, before his hand slides up, covering your mouth to muffle your moans. “Shh… you wouldn’t want someone to hear, would you?” he breathes, eyes dark and gleaming as he watches your reaction. His hips snap harder against yours, making you tremble beneath him. “I know you love this, though,” he teases “The shy, good girl everyone knows… so needy for me here, in this dirty, little bathroom…”
You gasp against his hand, your eyes closing as he angles himself deeper, making your whole body arch up to meet him.
“That’s right, sweetheart,” he moans himself, eyes shutting close from too intense feeling from your core. “Take every inch of me.” His other arm moves to hold you steady, fingers digging into your hip to guide your clumsy movements to meet his more precise ones. Yet still, he drives you crazy - he’s relentless, the thrusts he makes against your fluttering, clenching core a perfect mix of rough and tender, each one driving you closer and closer to the final edge. “Such a good girl,” he whimpers to your ear
“What would they say,” he whispers against your ear, “if they knew how much you were loving this? Little Miss Shy, moaning my name in public bathroom, with no care in the world" he angles his hips to hit that sweet spot that leaves you gasping. “There it is… that’s what my sweet girl likes, isn’t it?” he watches as your head falls back, completely under his spell. “Gonna fill you up, love.. Think you can be quiet for me now?”
Extrovert!Anakin who's deeply observant and knows how to comfort you without you even saying a word. If you’re overwhelmed at a party, he’ll instantly lead you outside for a breather, holding your hand and letting you decompress in his arms.
Anakin has a sixth sense for your moods and will check in constantly. “Hey, you doing okay?” he’ll ask, leaning in with those big, concerned eyes, ready to support you in any way.
Extrovert!Anakin who, in public, will love doing cute little things like running up behind you, picking you up in a surprise hug, or brushing his fingers across your shoulder to make you laugh. It’s all about making you feel seen and adored, even if you’re naturally shy.
He’s so proud to have you by his side that he’ll introduce you to literally everyone. When you’re too shy to talk, he’ll just laugh and carry the conversation, making it feel effortless for you.
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I love the idea of Anakin bringing up his experiences as a slave on Tatooine in random moments or conversations.
Imagine that not long after Anakin arrives at the temple, Obi-wan introduces him to Quinlan and Vos tells Anakin how he and Obi-wan used to sneak out of the temple as teenagers and what they did and Obi doesn't want Quinlan to demoralize his padawan and suddenly Anakin comes out with:
"If I ever sneak out I'll be blown up"
And now there's complete silence, both knights are quiet and Obi-wan is completely terrified because his little sweet padawan just said he was about to get blown up as a child with zero fear like it was normal and that's how Obi-wan found out Anakin has a bomb chip in his neck.
Or how during the Clone Wars Anakin was seriously injured but seems completely normal, can stand normally and doesn't complain about pain, and everyone around is panicking and Anakin just says:
"I'm fine and I've had worse untreated injuries"
and everyone looks at Obi-wan because if anyone is to know what Skywalker is talking about then only Kenobi can do it, but Obi-wan looks at Anakin as if he didn't say anything terrible, but inside he is terrified by how badly Anakin was injured as a child and how close he was to death.
Or another story from the war, the 501st and 212th battalions were on the front for a long time and food started to run out, which was complained about in their free time by the soldiers, even Obi-wan, everyone but Anakin and at some point Ahsoka asked her master about it and he only replied that:
"It's not that bad Snips and plus I've been without food for a much longer period of time than a week"
Which made most of the soldiers passing by stop and look at their general with concern, because what the hell did this man survive that he didn't have access to the right amount of food for more than a week, Ahsoka completely terrified looks at Obi-wan looking for some hint or proof that her master is joking as usual, but she finds only seriousness on his face which means that Anakin really isn't joking.
After a while, Obi-wan becomes more and more used to his padawan dropping such information bombs at various odd moments, not understanding how serious it is, but that doesn't mean he is prepared for it, Obi-wan is still terrified every time by what his boy has been through and how normal it is for him.
#star wars#shitpost#anakin skywalker#obi wan kenobi#star wars fandom#anakin and obi wan#star wars shitpost#obi wan#obi wan and anakin#star wars headcanons#anakin needs therapy#anakin#obi wan is anakin's father#padawan anakin#star wars anakin#obi wan anakin father#obi wan and anakin's dysfunctional relationship#obiwan kenobi#obi wan star wars#obi wan loves his padawan#obi wan is parent#anakin doesn't understand that his childhood was terrible.
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The Luke and Vader relationship is about Vader, the eldritch horror that brings death, being weak for one (1) jedi son and being willing to do anything for him.
And it's also about Luke, the eldritch horror that chooses not to be an eldritch horror, being extremely persistent about vader turning back to the light
Actually it'd be kinda funny if luke just hounded vader into coming back to the light like he just fucking pops up everywhere, in vader's dreams in rebellion propaganda in interrogation footage. He just wouldn't let vader rest. Imagine vader trudging through some swamp ass planet and luke popping up from a bush going have you heard of our lord and savior the light side of the force
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Clones as expectant fathers
I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”
Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives
CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert
Minors do not interact!
Rex
Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified.
He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone
And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father
He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK
Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.
Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.
“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”
Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out.
“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”
Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.
It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both
Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy.
He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on
Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed
He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness
The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a
He falls head-over-heels in love all over again
As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question
“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”
Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship
All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot
Wolffe
More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard
Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already.
So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father
Plo Koon especially is excited
“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”
During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more
At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”
He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”
Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.
He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.
He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned
But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what
Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.
It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.
Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs
Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that
Fox (kinda angst)
First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO
They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO
Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!
No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.
And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control
And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.
He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed
Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy
A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it
He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.
Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.
He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings
No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone.
Its for his SO’s protection
But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive
“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”
He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night
Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask.
It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children
Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.
She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO
Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down.
This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.
Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help.
His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.
Cody
“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”
goddamnit.exe
Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe
He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.
But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.
goddamnit2.exe
More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache
Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general
He does a good job hiding his worry though
Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO
He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy
It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists
I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.
Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings
One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief
He really loves to do this because his SO just melts
Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time
His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand
404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?
He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.
“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”
Goddamnit3.exe
Fives
“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”
Ecstatic is not a strong enough word
Also not subtle at all
There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows
He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.
Fives is BEYOND over the moon
He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away
Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one
Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.
Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.
Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful
He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.
In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.
Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke
Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.
When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a
Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”
He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO
Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks
Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave
“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”
He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.
“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”
#the clone wars x reader#captain rex x reader#commander wolffe#Commander Wolffe x reader#captain rex#commander fox#commander fox x reader#commander cody#commander cody x reader#arc trooper fives#fives x reader#star wars the clone wars#star wars headcanons#tw pregnancy#fluff#headcanons#tcw x reader
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Cody: Sir, we should keep moving.
Obi: and why exactly is that? Stop and smell the roses, Cody.
Cody, faltering: I'd love to- it's just that there's no roses and my blacks are pinching me in all the worst places, and, really, General, did you have to wear that new cologne this morning, it's terribly distracting and faintly-
Obi: rosy? Yes, I was getting there, but you seem to have beaten me to it. Glad to know your senses are sharp as ever, Commander *thoroughly continues flirting*
#cody: *derealizes*#star wars incorrect quotes#codywan#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#ct 2224#star wars#the clone wars#clone headcanons#star wars headcanons#star wars memes#clone troopers#blaster fire and explosions are happening in the bg of this convo btw#incorrect star wars quotes
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It’s actually so important to me that one of my biggest hc’s is that Echo is the youngest of Domino Squad, he’s the baby, and all of Domino Squad remind him of it. But to the Batch? To Omega? He’s the oldest, and he does his best to act like his own older brothers.
#star wars#the bad batch#bad batch#star wars the bad batch#bad batch omega#echo bad batch#bad batch echo#arc trooper echo#tbb echo#domino squad#clone force 99#star wars hc#star wars headcanons
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My favorite things about obitine:
They’re married.
#look at this and tell me they’re not married you simply can’t#there’s too many things but this pretty much sums it up#your honor i love them so much#star wars#clone wars#the clone wars#obi wan kenobi#star wars headcanons#obitine#obi wan and satine#satine kryze
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A few of you guys were curious, so as promised, here’s a few of my takes on Kiffar marriage customs! Specifically the role of the qukuuf, hope you guys enjoy! (Once again, this was all inspired by fic Resilience on ao3, though the account is unfortunately orphaned)
Hope my handwriting doesn’t suck too much, and super open to hearing any ideas or questions you might have if I didn’t explain anything fully!
Also here’s a b/w version cause I’m a sucker for greyscale (and to make the qukuuf markings stand out more)
#in the quinobi au that I’m referencing for this info post#I imagine they get engaged when they’re 18 or so#or at least like a promise thing#and only make it permanent once they are both knights#its so funny to me that this custom is basically a big warning sign that says TAKEN in neon yellow#also I imagine the ink is pretty staining#since it lasts for 6 months#so hence the funny looking lids#they’re designed so that you can put them down on a flat surface without making the ink go everywhere#you just flip it upside down#quinobi#obiquin#obi wan x quinlan#obi wan fanart#padawan obi wan#padawan quinlan vos#obi wan kenobi#star wars headcanons#starwars fanart
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⋆.˚ 𝔻𝕒𝕣𝕜 𝕍𝕒𝕔𝕒𝕪 ⋆.˚
𐙚Yandere! Qimir X Reader
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ He steals you in summer. Castaway on a planet with no name. But the way his eyes shine under the hot sun has your heart beating out of your chest.
⁀➷ Does this count as "That's that me, espresso"?
🪐 Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Stockholm syndrome, blood, and gore.
⁺₊𝄞₊⁺ Espresso by Sabrina Carpender
Dark Vacay by CAS
The heat licks at your neck dangerously. The scathing red glow cleaves through flesh, through bone.
Warm, warm, warm.
The sort of swelter befitting rampant volcanos and rebirthing suns.
The man, no, the Sith has you pinned to his chest. His force,a dark pulsating thing, coiling through your body, keeping you rooted.
Sol's voice echoes through the canopy. Sending ripples through the blood-matted forest floor. "Release her." His saber is drawn, pointed.
Blue vs red.
Hot vs cold.
"Give me the relic." The voice lacks emotion, empathy. It demands, it takes. There is no room for formalities here, no chivalry you've long believed in. This monster deals only in dark. Taking and taking. "And I won't hurt her".
You try to push him away, to fight. Your force against his, clawing at the dark ether around you, hunting for an aperture, a splinter anything to infiltrate. But he is resilient, strong the way most volcanos are.
Impenetrable.
You moan against the tightening noose. He demands and you must obey. Such a dark thing can even make your master bow, make him give up the ancient blood-red relic. "You have your relic, now release my pupil." Behind you the monster chuckles, an airy noise overflowing with malice, "I said I wouldn't hurt her, not that I'd give her back."
The lights dull. Neon fading into a fuzzy mess of colors too tangled to decipher. Voices weave bending to the blaring buzz echoing from within. The world grows darker, you try to clutch onto something, anything. The cool colors of saber light, the soothing tone of your master's voice. The monster's dark cadence. But it's no use, the darkness prevails, pulling you under its crushing waves, burying you in a sea of nihil.
The world is dim upon resurgence. The air tastes of salt, fresh and dry upon the throat. The earth you lay in is warm, not like the smoldering heat of a bloodborne saber, but the warmth you imagine a mother's embrace to hold. Soft in every way that counts.
The place is alien and abandoned. No family, no monsters. Just rock upon rock and makeshift furniture to further the illusion of a makeshift home. The pounding upon your temples has yet to cease, you wonder if the outlines of a bruise have yet to bloom.
Slowly, you emerge from the cocoon of worn blankets. Bare feet scraping across the jagged floor. You feel the monster's presence linger, his essence strong within this place. You remember the dragon dens you used to read about in fairy tales. The gold-adorned caves where little princesses were forced to dwell.
It's funny you should feel like one now.
There are clothes sprawled across the floor. Vanilla ice cream in shade and shape, they feel too pure to have been chosen by a man like him. Too pure to have been tainted by the darkness of his fingertips. It's only now that the dress glares back that you notice your bareness, Jedi robes stripped and discarded.
That fiend...
You feel skinned, alone. No saber to grasp, no golden drapes. Nothing to paint you as Jedi. It's with reluctance that you lace yourself into the sweet dress, with utter reluctance that you step out onto the beach of rocks awaiting outside.
You spot the man,
the sith.
Qimir
His name reverberates within your head. You lick each letter, rolling them across your tongue and drinking in their condensation. "Qi-mi-rr" the name shouldn't taste of exotic fruits blended and bled. It shouldn't taste like fruit cocktails and coconut cubes but it does.
It does and it's disgustingly delicious.
He walks with the steady strout of a man who knows he is the most dangerous thing on this beach, on this island, on this entire planet. A volcano among mountains.
You follow behind bare feet on smooth rocks. Fumbling across the beach.
Chasing shadows. Chasing monsters.
He sheds his robes like skin, peeling away sabbath vestments to reveal cutis. Tanned and scarred, marred flesh risen like volcano veins cascading across his spine.
You shouldn't admit how desperately your fingers ache to trace the tragic thing. You glid your nails across the notched igneous rocks. Dreaming its soft flesh, his soft flesh beneath your touch. He would shutter under your fingertips as you pull apart his secrets. Nibbling on them like picnic cookies.
He's stripped bare, soft skin caught in the dim sun. His open wounds glisten under soft gold rays. You skate away from the sight, that forbidden sun-drenched sight. Eyes averted and hidden behind the rocks, twice locked, to avoid a rogue glance.
He is nothing if not haunting, forbidden in every way.
Odd how the memory of his bare ankles is what lingers. Carved too steep and too deep in a way that looks too marble. They merge into long robust legs. You can't help but imagine the sculpture of his thighs after, the thing at the end of those perplexing ankles. They too must be strong, carved to define each muscle. You imagine being trapped between them, their forceful push against your meaker body as his ankles intertwine with yours.
"You can open your eyes now."
You taste his darkness in your mouth again. Potent tropical fruits laced with sea salt. He couldn't have known you were trailing after him, you'd been quiet, silent like a whisper.
"It's improper to strip out in the open. What would you have done if someone should have come upon you?"
He treads in the water like a pearl unearthed. Shimmering alongside the blue-green of the lagoon. "You came upon me and nothing happened."
"That's because I had the good graces to avert my gaze from such a sight."
"I'd prefer if you'd look."
He pours water over his face, sparkly droplets cascading down sharp cheekbones. Eyes wide with an odd groggy wonder. The sky and the sea and him ethereally in between. He shouldn't look so magical. Some water nymph playing spike ball with the sun. Drinking in the clouds and blue. Before diving back down into his aquatic galaxy.
"Join me"
"I'd rather impale myself"
he's treading closer, water shielding his body like liquid lapis lazuli. "I wonder what your lips will taste like blue?" and it's the first time you've ever thought of your order's regalia as something so macabre.
His eyes are half-lidded, licking over your body like a melting Sunday. Or maybe he actually is, you can feel something wet and sinister sliding across your body. Slipping over and under the dress, sucking at pulse points. Anticipating soft vanilla.
You want to rip out his tongue and harbor in your mouth. You want to devour him as if he were ice cream on a summer day. Butterscotch cone with drizzled caramel and star sprinkles. Your teeth ache desperately for just one small bite.
He's standing, growing into a full man, no longer just a boy nymph memorized by soft whites and bright blues. The water droplet clutch greedy to taut muscles, refusing to leave such a Promethean thing.
The wet thing freezes. Running water to ice cube. His force evaporates from you, you bask in the mist of him. Before the shadow roots behind you impenetrable all over again. Qimir steps closer and you close your eyes on instinct. Stepping back, following the flow of sand in breeze.
Such sights are not for us to love.
It tips you off balance, You can't see Qimir but you can feel him. He's closer and closer. That's why you're stalking back. But the plasmic thing behind you nicks your ankle. Lurching you back. In the blink of an eye and the start of a scream, you're suspended in mid-air. Floating above the sands, save in the gossamer of his black mist.
"Careful" Qimir jests
And you crack your eye open just enough to see his outstretched hand.
"I want to take a shower"
"The lagoone is over there" he throws over his shoulder all so causally. like spelling out sea cemetary.
the warmth of the cave is suffocating. Lacing through your body making it breakout into little pearls of hidrosis. You roll over, watching Qimir, solder the cracks of his helmet. The rampant sparks cast him in a galactic white halo. Some intangible creature from the far reaches of the universe.
You wonder back to the incident by the lagoon.
You wonder if his tongue, his real tongue, would feel cool against your flaring skin. Muscle-bound ice cube rolling across your arms, your chest, drinking in your essence in half kisses and open-lipped moans. Sucking tenderly on the veins of your neck.
But shouldn't the tongues of monsters be spiked? cutting deep in search of blood?
Qimir swats the sweat from his temples. Pulling up the back of his shirt in an effort to fight the humidity. His scars transcend so low. Rivers weaving through him, overflowing with treasured secrets. You suck in the force through your lips drinking in its cold confidence. Marching up to stand behind him, only half admiring the rugged skin below the sandy shirt.
"Ahem" Spine straight, head held high. Your stance is practiced, sculpted in the confidence that the order demands. Lightside in every way.
Jedi, Jedi, Jedi
"I know it is futile to ask a treasonous sith like you to abide by the laws of common decency. But I'd ask that you do not come to spy on me while I bathe" Your hands ball into firsts. Glaring death and shark teeth at his blemished back.
He leaves the workbench with all the grace of a crushing tide. Elegance carved from salt rocks and years of walking through stars and shadows. But this time you refuse to step back. There is no dishabille to fear, no sand lines that may be passed.
But he doesn't confront you. He doesn't bask in his rage and stands proudly in front of you. No, instead he paces, or rather almost floats. He's in front of you one minute and behind you the next. The eerieness of it all only comes from the feeling of entombment. He is your cage, your coffin. Burying you under the sand with his precious secrets and red relics. Your nerve beats out of you in little droplets.
Qimir's fingers lace with your own, his hot breath fans the shell of your ear, "How can I make such promises when you act so cute" his voice is coconut shavings upon white sand. You aren't even sure he spoke. " I thought Sith only dealt in absolutes?" his laughter cuts like fractured seashells. Cutting through heartstrings. You want to hear it again and again until you've memorized its melody. "That's what we want the Jedi to believe."
His teeth graze the nape of your neck. That's the last straw, gravity crushes your nerve, and you take off running.
The pearls that shine within his sockets are entirely too dark. You shouldn't be thinking such this as you disrode. But the glimmer of pure drown isn't a worldly sight, it's something unplaceable.
Sith can not be trusted, even if, until mere days ago they had been things of fairytales like dragons and sea monsters. Mystical monsters used to frighten little padwans into finishing their plates. But the stories are true now, they've ripped open the holobooks and sprouted from the screen. Your fingers flex, feeling the weight of his hand in yours.
The monsters are real...
You keep your undergarments on as you descend with the sparkling tides. Qimir may appear at any moment. And you wish to confront a Sith in a Jedi's skin, or what little is left of it.
You're sinking into the watermelon greens and crystal blues, sinking into him... because even so far from the grotto his presence haunts your thoughts still.
"You wouldn't mind if I invite myself in?" The water laps at his feet, he's standing over the liquid threshold.
"What are you doing here?! I told you not to come."
he shrugs and you can't help but notice the definition of his muscles. "It's hot in the cave. Plus you don't own the beach."
He pulls the shirt over his head.
You scream for him to stop.
But this time as he pulls the waistband down you notice something underneath.
Swim trunks.
Bell-bottomed and shaped like a nebula, but only midnight in hue. The cuffs glimmer with red intricacies, patterns from a different time, a different solar system. Each stitch tells some tale of horror or history. Sith things that you'd rather not know. But why engrave them into a swimsuit? Why paint a tapestry on something so jejune?
He treads through the water, deadset on you. And again in every step, you notice a mettle valor that can only come from having killed and kissed your greatest fears.
The rocks are slippery beneath your feet, running, swimming, gliding whatever gets you further from him. But the rocks form barricades of their own. Igneous confines housing prey and beast.
"I meant it when I said you were cute." He has you pinned to the mineral mountains, eyes prying you open, studying your inner workings like a gutted bot. "So fragile so malleable..." You feel his power rolled over your neck.
You didn't expect the kiss. The taste of coconut shavings and caramel. Your heart hammers as he tugs on your hips, pulling you closer. Your lungs burn, filled with salt water and dark force energy.
But suffocating is a small price to pay when he parts your lips and pushes iced star fruits in your mouth.
That night Qimir had tried to feed you soup. Boiled fish and herbs in a cauldron that looks, entirely witch. But the refusal comes not from the perturbation of poison or the primal mistrust shared between star-crossed enemies.
No the refusal comes because you simply do not like fish.
"Just try a spoonful, it's from a rare breed. Considered a luxury on most planets". His entreaties fall on deaf ears, outvoiced by the stubbornness of a crashing tide. You retire hungry, and maybe it's hunger that stirs you in the dead of night.
Or maybe it's the heartbeat echoing from his mask.
He called it cortosis. But it looks more terror than diamond.
You sink to your knees in front of the haunted heirloom, cradling it gently within your palms. The iron flavor upon lips makes you part them, tongue fleshed tracing every welded scar. Sucking in the solder and crystal and every other poison.
You want to be a part of it, to pry open your ribcage and shove the empyrean taj within.
Let its darkness mingle with your blood. You want to feel it's royalty in the marrow of your bones.
In the morning you do not speak about the pulsating thing within. But the mask stares at you as you eat mint and bread from Qimir's hand.
It knows...
It knows things you can never admit.
You'd been planning on narrowly avoiding him. Tiptoeing across the cave to evade stirring him. But the plans die when first light breeches the aperture.
Qimir's gone.
And in his place, he's left yet another raiment.
The dress is summer and doll. Bowed in the back and studded.
Bar'biee in every way.
The hysterically placed designs parody the crisscross of twilight roses and all their thrones. Checkered in shades of obsidian and ink.
But the black of your dress doesn't quite match the ebony of his robes.
It simply plays testament to your ripeness. You're starting to feel like his little doll.
He lies on a beach towel overlooking the sea. So ordinary it makes you choke. Beach ball in the corner by his feet, waiting to be played with.
Fearless.
You wonder just who he had to kill to reach this hubris?
You float down the little exclaves toes barely touching the ground.
He's adorned the rocky beach with a comically large parasol too dark to even have a name. Another towel, a picnic basket, and little coconut cups with straws. Despite his black tainted sunglasses, he knows you're watching him. Caught in the bosom of this haunted shore. Awaiting your capturer's orders.
"You can sit if you want." again he's saying words without realizing how crushing they truly are. Their full weight pulling your bones until they slip from skin.
Might as well have said shark attack and death at sea.
But you obey because despite everything, the towel looks nice and so does the drink.
"The sun doesn't come out very often. But I figured we could at least enjoy it today."
"Thanks," you mutter chewing on the pink straw. You shift your limbs rigidly. Plastic doll coming to life. Pushing tense bones straight as you rest your uneasy head. The waves hum in your ear and you swear you hear the rocks buzze like star songs.
"Why did you bring me here? Why not kill me."
"Well, you're not really any use to me dead" He offers you a melon slice.
"So I'm bait." Qimir sighs, your query exhausting. He simply sips from his own drink. You notice the jounce of his throat with each gulp. How you'd love to ring to those bones, feel them crack between your fingers.
He turns to you, lips a breath away. He hasn't kissed you since that day in the lagoon. But you wish him too so very much.
This isn't the Jedi way...
What?
Qimir's fingers trace over your thighs and hips. Finally, they land heavily on your shoulders, pushing you into the rocks with zeal. He blocks the sun and you can't help but think he's lovelier than any red goliath in the macrocosm.
Qimir's teeth gnaw at your throat, kissing the blood and smearing it with his tongue. Traling open-mouth kisses to the plinth of your neck.
Your nails, rasp curiously at his back, tracing scars, tracing cortosis veins.
His fingers dig into your ribs, painting it in seastars. Kissing starlights and pearls in your bones. His body is hot, scolding. And you wonder if the minerals he surrounds himself with were all nursed in the womb of a violent volcano.
The result of destructive habits is knife bites called kisses and a heart that's finally exploded.
When he pulls off, he poises himself on his knees before falling back to his side, searching for something in the basket. You stare, dress distorted, and breath hitched. You taste the exotic fruit blend again. Burning, caramel, and coconut that linger across your body.
"Hey, can you put this on me?" reality blurs back in, he's dangling a yellow bottle in front of you. "What" he shouldn't have this ease with you. He shouldn't be playing make-believe lovers on the beach with the girl he kidnapped.
But he does.
And you play along too.
"it's sunscreen, believe it or not, I burn easily."
"No"
"please"
"N-"
You don't control your hand as it pours the cream onto his chest. He touches you with such familiarity, the force on this planet is just an extension of him. But you shy away at the thought of running your fingers across his muscle bound chest. What is the force if not a child's toy? If not another doll.
He notices the shyness. Or rather reads it from the air. His force pokes at your arms, laughing at the discomfort. Before you know it he's harbored between your thighs. Large hands holding your wrist.
Firm yet delicate.
He moves your hand over his chest, charting every bump and muscle. Coating the blocker over his skin. It feels like piecing together armor. Preparing him for a battle you've never been invited to.
You don't want this.
Well not quite.
You want to feel his body jolt under your touch and hear the sweet little quips he offers to lighten the mood. You want to capture the fleeting moment where he bites his lip and preserve it for eternity.
But more than anything you want to peel away his armor, his flesh, and bury yourself beneath. Become another one of his secrets and staying inside him. Safe and warm forever.
"Qimir"
He makes pomegranate soup that night. As he nestles your body over his lap. Kissing the half-healed bruise on your forehead. He brings the spoon to your lips and gently nudges your mind to let him in. You part your lips, welcoming him in with the shyness you've been raised on. Blushing little bride-doll.
Legacy. You realize when the seeds erupt inside your mouth.
He's feeding you his secrets, his bequest. Boiling you like the fish and the fruit. And birthing you anew.
You sleep with your head buried in the crux of his neck. Listening to the lullaby of his tattered heart, singing psalms of conquest.
That night you dream of a river red. You blame it on Qimir, the pomegranate seeds were too maroon in color and flavor.
From the crimson water the helmet surfaces. Bobbing in the waves, beckoning you. You cup your hands inside the river, guzzling down the water and licking your fingers after. You let the red kiss your lips and fill your lungs choking you by essence alone. You want to die drinking from the bloodlust. Die in front of his helmet.
So maybe he can call it love.
Or Devotion.
Or anything else equally sweet.
The river doesn't taste like pomegranates, or fruit cocktails, or iced coconut.
It tastes of salty iron, volcanic diamonds and Qimir's lips.
You plunge into the red...
He's thinking about you again. You know it from the moment you awake. His voice is loud inside your head. Reverberating from wall to wall until it is the only thing you hear.
This time the garments are waterproof. Swimwear. Two pieces in black, just black. And adorned with red trees on the seams.
Right, because you beat me in the forest.
Clever.
He has left bangles too, jagged and bruised purple with veins of white. cortosis. Accompanied by a golden necklace that looks like a beating heart, ripped freshly from someone's chest.
"You look beautiful," he remarks after you've dressed in his colors. When did he come in? You need to get better at hearing the man born from shadows. The man who's walking between worlds unseen, unheard his entire life.
He pulls you close, nails picking at the soft flesh of your tummy. Scratching skin and leaving red crescents. He kneels and licks and bites, claiming this new chart of unmarked skin.
This has always been about possession, domination, damnation. "Qimir" you moan and it feels so wrong and so right. Like saber to the heart.
Oh force, how far you've fallen.
Qimir laces his fingers with yours pulling you outside the cave. The sun shimmers off his lopsided smile and he really does glow brighter than every star in the known cosmos.
The lagoon is red.
It shouldn't be red.
"You killed them" Since when have such dire words spilled so easily from your lips? Sol, Jacki, Yord. Are they in this pool? shimmering translucent awaiting a vengeance you do not think you can deliver?
"Yes...But not your Jedi, not yet. These were just some self-pious knights who got in my way."
He brings his arm up showing you a fresh saber cut, before pulling you into the water. It's so warm boiling, lava meets water. You think your skin will peel off.
But you stand your ground. Force directing your every breath. Spine straight head high. Darkside in every way
Sith, sith, sith
You grasp at his forearm, pulling it to your lips. Your tongue finds the slit in the skin and dives it. Mapping out the muscles and drinking in the red.
Exotic fruits bled and blended.
"I think I'm finally getting through to you," Qimir says, brown pearls glazed over with pride. "My sweet little acolyte."
You giggle at the term. It tastes so bitter, like a raw espresso before dawn.
"Oh, master" you moan. As you pull him under the red waters. Lips and legs entwined.
ᯓ♡ : @feedmestraycats @moonlovefairy @wicked0clouds @phoenixes-and-wizards @peridedarling @morax-on-my-mind @magikmaik @lov4gor3 @manchuria @bucksdonkey @embersofimagination @hauntedhedgehogs @peter-laufeyson @papitas-con-sal @f0odie @boredtone @bluechissbrain @yourfilthydevil @n0t-skywalker @xsister-serpent @gabriqllas @zionysuss @i-love-my-babygirls @pagingoswin @jxp1ter @faebirdie @deezhutts565 @thesithdiaries @pagingoswin @hauntingwolf @scentedbanditlampwobbler @uwingdispatch @mask-knife-is-buggys-girl @lunarsvertigo @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @penny44224 @suburbanlegendzzzz @jihyos-wifey @reylo-imperium @ladyofyourdreams @sassybananaweaselpsychic @96jnie @@jxp1ter @sunnymoonxx @scintilla-morningstar @carpinchootaku @smutmaniac @alena1100 @marice23top @ohdearmaggie @strawberrycat69
#qimir#manny jacinto#star wars#the acolyte#qimir x reader#star wars the acolyte#star wars qimir#qimir x you#the acolyte imagines#darth teeth#yandere#yandere x reader#yancore#yandere x you#yandere aesthetic#yandere imagines#yandere core#yandere male#yandcore#qimir the acolyte#male yandere#star wars imagine#yandere star wars#star wars headcanons#the acolyte spoilers#qimir headcanons#sabrina carpenter#espresso#manny jacinto x reader#manny jacinto x you
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Jedi robes on Initiates and Padawans are large and roomy for the young to grow into. A Padawan might not get back to the Temple with a year of flying between constant mission, and it’d be embarrassing for a growing adolescent to have exposed arms and ripped seams.
Jedi robes on full grown Knights and Masters have multiple layers to help others. Another layer given to their Padawan or non-Force sensitive companions could save a life from the cold or sickness. Drop a layer as a decoy and still have the essential gear still on them.
Obi-Wan is the first to rip up his robes and tunics to use as temporary bandages until the Clones can get to a medic.
Cody is annoyed and heartened to see his General in only what is pretty much torn up short shorts and boots after a battle.
#star wars headcanons#star wars#obi wan kenobi#commander cody#codywan#the clone wars#Jedi headcanons
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