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[thegreatwicked]

Meditations: A Moment in Time in a Galaxy that Never Was

Mediations

For Madelight

Summary: Amid the summer heat on Dathomir, Maul finds himself unable to sleep, restless thoughts stirring within him. Seeking solace, he attempts meditation, only to be joined by his companion Zeala. As they navigate the challenges of finding inner calm, their connection deepens, and unspoken emotions come to the surface. Together, in the quiet moments of the night, they discover a shared intimacy that transcends words and the boundaries of their world.

Notes: Do I need to explain that this takes place in an alternate universe? No? Ok, so here we go. Maul, Savage, and Feral are alive and whole, Maul was not bisected in this universe. The three brothers return to Dathomir after the near massacre of their people to find Mother Talzin, dying. Desperate to see Dathomir reborn, Mother Talzin tasks the strongest of her children, Maul, to bring about a new age on Dathomir. Maul alongside his brothers and his mate, Zeala. Zeala is a native Dathomirian woman who was taken as a young child from her world and raised as a bounty hunter. She meets Maul on Mandalore and they are an established item. If you are a cannon snob then this is not the story for you, please see yourself out or sit down and enjoy. Get’cha an orange creamsicle cause this is gonna be spicy. 

Dathomir.

The summer night wraps around the world outside, creating a dark backdrop dotted with sparkling stars like keiber crystals. It is captivating yet eerie, embodying the world's dual nature. The air is heavy and hot, and the sun's departure has not done much to make the temperature more bearable. Occasionally, a warm breeze wanders through the long hallways, briefly relieving the persistent warmth. Despite the inviting bed and the cool sheets against my skin, I cannot seem to fall asleep. I look around the room without any real purpose, feeling frustrated without a clear reason. The day has been lengthy and satisfying, my mind occupied and content. My body is tired, but each time I shut my eyes, my thoughts remain restless.

The physical comfort alone should be enough, but a restless feeling under my skin stops me from finding the peace I crave. My stare fixes upon the ceiling; an empty canvas that holds no answers, provokes no thoughts, and elicits no emotions.

In the haven of my home, solitude feels like a distant memory. My brothers stand by my side to share my burdens, and even as my mother's final days approach, her presence remains as she guides me to the task of rebuilding our home. She celebrates my son and has embraced Zeala, my mate, as one of her own, teaching her the magics that are her birthright.

Next to me, she rests, my mate and companion, enveloped in the solace that rightfully befits a woman of Dathomir. Her ghostly hair flows like a silken veil across the pillow that she holds close to her chest. Slumbering on her stomach, her arms encircle the pillow she clings to as if finding refuge in its embrace.

The intricate tattoos adorning her form draw my gaze down her body, tracing the delicate curve of her back and waist before disappearing beneath the sheet that grazes her hips. Her very presence in my life is still something of a mystery to me, a riddle I have never been able to solve. 

Companionship. 

It is not something the path of a Sith or Night Brother would have ever afforded to me. As a Sith, lust and embracing of passions was encouraged but such connections led to mercy and mercy was weakness. As a Night Brother the only touch of a woman I would have ever known was as a breeder in servitude to the Night Sisters. Devoid of any sense of equality.

However, Zeala challenges those conventions, carving out her role in my existence as a true equal. Such a thing would have been deemed heretical by both Sith and Night Sisters.

In her presence, I discover a paradox—a connection that feels both forbidden and undeniable. She is mine to protect, mine to touch, sometimes to fight with, and has born my son; complexities that defy my training and upbringing. But I am a Sith no more. And I am not bound by the traditions of the Night Brothers and Night Sisters.

As I contemplate these reflections, her delicate figure stirs, turning on the pillow, arms reaching overhead in a contented stretch. Her naked body is now revealed to my appreciative gaze. Bathed in the moonlight, its gentle glow caresses the curves of her skin, mingling with her tattoos and the various scars from battles she's endured, along with the unmistakable imprints left by carrying my son. A surge of lust courses through my veins and my hearts beat faster. My hands flex with the urge to reach over and touch her, it is overwhelming the sudden desire I have for her; to taste her perfect breasts, to envelope myself in her warmth and make her sing for me. The spectral beauty she possesses stirs sensations within me that at times, I am still learning to understand and control, yet my reverence for her keeps me from waking her. In this quiet contemplation, I make my choice. 

It is time to seek solace in solitude, to find my path amidst the swirling tempest of thoughts and emotions. 

My path leads me down the ancient stone hallways to a chamber which lies mostly bare and unadorned; yet graced by an open balcony that gifts me a panoramic view of Dathomir’s desolately, haunting landscape. Torches cast a gentle, flickering light upon the walls, creating a dance of shadows that mirrors my inner contemplations. 

My legs fold into a familiar cross-legged posture, and I close my eyes, deliberately cutting off the world's visual distractions. Through the balcony, a warm breeze caresses my skin, carrying with it the essence of Dathomir's spirit, both harsh and alluring.

With each breath, I attempt to cast off the shackles of the outside world. Muscles taut from battles struggle to relax, slowly despite my training to always be ready, yielding to the sensation of the breeze and the coolness of the stone beneath me. My breath becomes a lifeline, a guide leading me back to the present moment.

Inhale. Exhale. 

The rhythm of my twin heartbeats reverberate within me, a unique cadence born of Zabrak physiology. This is my anchor, grounding me in the now, granting me a brief reprieve from the chaos that clutters my mind.

As I continue to breathe, the world fades into the background. My consciousness extends, attempting to merge with the land, the air, and the very pulse of the planet. Yet I am further disappointed. Frustration simmers beneath my controlled exterior as my efforts to clear my mind continue to be thwarted by an ever-persistent barrage of thoughts. I release a measured breath, acknowledging my momentary defeat and my shoulders slump as if to surrender to the weight of my internal chaos. 

Suddenly her presence calls to me at the edges of my consciousness. 

I can sense her behind me.

The very air changes as she silently observes my struggles. She waits quietly for a few moments before seeking me out. Trying to ascertain whether I am receptive to her presence or if she should leave me, but the truth of the matter is, that it is a rare occasion that I do not desire her closeness. Even in my most angered state, when I feel more beast than man and pulse with anger powerful enough to rip worlds apart, Zeala’s presence, her touch, and her very breath on my skin soothes me; and I do not understand it. 

Her footfalls are soft against the stone floor, approaching as if trying not to startle a skittish creature. I find myself contemplating if that is the lens through which she views me. However, there is no need for her to tread so cautiously, I hold an unspoken devotion to my mate that runs so deep, that I would readily offer my very lifeblood before ever causing her a shred of harm.

A ripple of awareness draws my focus to the cool touch of her hand gliding across my back. She kneels behind me and I can feel the warmth of her breath on my skin as her forehead rests between my shoulder blades—the gesture is both intimate and grounding. This is the sensation I yearn for when thoughts of her consume my mind. And that is the puzzling part—no Night Brother has ever experienced such a connection with a Night Sister. Regardless of how and where Zeala and I met and what our courses are, she is, at her core, a Dathomirian woman. And this union we have, this connection we share is unusual for our shared culture.

Our bond is unparalleled, defying the norms of our customs. It is more than mere intimacy—it is a bond unlike any other. She comprehends me, understanding my thoughts and desires sometimes before I even realize them myself. In another life, the ways of the Sith would dictate severing all connections with her, perhaps even snuffing out her life; viewing her as a vulnerability not to be tolerated. But I am no longer a Sith; I have become Maul once more, son of Dathomir. While the grip of the Sith teachings has weakened, their lessons remain deeply ingrained, making it challenging to dismiss them entirely.

In the customs of our people, parity would elude us; I would assume a subservient role to her, bowing to her, her wishes and whims guiding my stars. If she commanded, offer my blood for any cause she deems worthy. I would exist to serve her, aiming to bring her pleasure; a life not wretched compared to my past horrors. Nonetheless, the intimacy we embrace would not be sanctioned, our cohabitation forbidden. Her absence from my side in our shared bed breeds frustration. 

Gradually, these musings disperse, replaced by a hint of a smile as I savor the wordless tenderness she offers. It is a curious revelation, having spent a lifetime devoid of such connections or sensations, yet finding myself relishing them so profoundly, yearning for their presence. The whisper of her breath caresses my spine gently, a subtle disruption to my usual composure. With my eyes firmly shut, I maintain my focus, her proximity an intermittent interruption in my concentration.

Breaking the silence with a quiet and knowing tone, I address the situation, curious about the disturbance that has roused her from what should be a peaceful slumber. 

“What has awakened you?”

"I could hear the thunder of your thoughts," She remarks in a whisper, her voice a blend of tenderness and desire. It is a comparison that always catches me by surprise, a reminder of her unique connection to my inner world, even though she cannot truly read my mind.

“I highly doubt that.” My tone is light-hearted with amusement, as I release a breath and temporarily abandon my efforts. "I did not want to disturb your rest." It often surprises me how I think of her well-being before my own. 

I shift my gaze toward her, allowing her fingers to glide up my neck, their delicate trail making its way to trace the creased lines on my forehead. Only Zeala possesses the ability to offer such a touch—one that carries a deep tranquility; a connection that is exclusively ours. I convey how my thoughts were a jumble, too intricate to disturb her slumber, hence why I turned to meditation for solace. Her touch persists, a soothing caress mapping the lines etched into my skin.

“How is your meditation progressing?” I scoff and don’t answer immediately, 

"Focus eludes me." I further the sentiment with a dry tone. “Though it is difficult to find focus with such distractions, your touch for instance.”

“Perhaps you should channel that focus and teach me.” 

Zeala is not a patient woman, and the notion of teaching her such a disciplined exercise as meditation draws genuine amusement from me.

"It might serve you well, considering your temper." 

A thousand images of Zeala in various states of anger flash through my thoughts, most of them linked to her role as our son's mother. Her fury rivals even that of my mother, rendering her a truly formidable force—one I have no desire to challenge. Yet, oddly enough, witnessing her in such moments has only heightened my admiration for her and intensified my attraction toward her. To witness the extent of her ferocity as she safeguards our son, my son, stirs something within me, a connection that's both difficult to explain and impossible to ignore.

“Are you saying I’m hot-headed?’

“Yes,” I respond bluntly.

“My temper is nothing compared to yours.” She counters, clearly not offended.

“If that is your belief...”

"My assertion isn't a mere opinion; it's a factual observation. Or have you forgotten the fate you bestowed upon Garyss?" 

Yes. That.

A snarl curls my lip as I recall the man who dared extort the mother of my son. 

The memory of his audacity, his touch on my Zeala, ignites a fire in me. The repugnant thought of his filth marring my mate lingers. The knowledge of his punishment fails to quell my rage, no matter the price he paid. My posture tightens and my fists clench.

I recalla vividly his fear and screams fueling a devious grin, a fate that was well deserved and yet was not brutal enough. Zeala is mostly right, and her observations are correct to a degree. 

"You're not entirely innocent in matters of retribution either. Both Savage and I bore witness to your fierce attack against that Twi'lek girl who dared to vie for my attention in your presence." It was quite the spectacle, a sight forever etched in my memory, to see her stake a claim over me. 

A shadowy chuckle brushes my ear, the sensation of the sharp edges of her sharp teeth following, accompanied by a sinister tone. 

“She won’t make such a mistake again.” Zeala asserting her possession of me in that wicked whisper, I cannot help but wonder if my declarations also ignite similar emotions within her. 

"Meditation might offer you the balance you seek." 

"Teach me, then. Your discipline might rub off on me." As her lips find my ear once more, her voice whispers, telling me to instruct her, one I struggle to resist.

The warmth of her lips, a tender touch that trails along my spine, resonates deeply within me. Her presence, her breath, her soft words, all contribute to a growing intimacy that beckons as much as it distracts. The very notion is unexpected, yet a part of me is intrigued by her willingness to explore this practice with me.

With a controlled exhalation, I slowly shift my head, just enough to acknowledge her presence and her request. Her bewitching violet eyes hold mine, and I find myself drawn into her gaze, those unusual depths that could drown me. 

I nod in agreement. It is then that I notice she has donned my black robe, wrapped in its darkness that contrasts the pallor of her perfect skin. The robe's oversized nature drapes around her like a luxurious blanket, covering her form yet hinting at the fact that she wears nothing else. The possessive thought that she's wearing only my robe is both alluring and intoxicating, deepening the connection between us in a way that stirs something primal within me.

She has done this on purpose.

As I narrow my gaze at her, a knowing smile tugs at her lips. She has taken a calculated step with her choice of attire, and she is fully aware of the effect it is having on me.

“Sit comfortably,”

She follows my instruction to sit, though not as I expected her to. Instead of mirroring my position and posture, she instead, positions herself in my lap, straddling me. It is an unconventional posture, one that defies tradition and expectation. Her hands find purchase on my shoulders, and her forehead presses against mine. Never before has such an intimate pose of meditation been assumed and for a moment I think she cannot be serious so I pose the question.

“Are you truly committed to this?” My tone is a dry mix of skepticism and curiosity, as I wonder if this is some kind of jest – and yet, a part of me hopes it is not. I follow up with a comment on her unique approach, stating, "Your approach is… unorthodox."

Yet, even as I speak, I cannot deny the undercurrent of affection in my words, nor how enjoyable I find this to be. 

I instruct her to focus on her breathing, to let go of the tension that clings to her form. As our breaths sync, her body relaxes against mine. Our breaths intermingle, drawing us into a shared rhythm, a connection that is both unusual and intriguing.

Her thumbs tracing soft patterns on my shoulders invite a question, a challenge. "Is that for my benefit or yours?" I ask, my voice carrying a hint of curiosity.

Her response is honest, confessing that touching me does indeed relax her, it comes as  a surprise to me. I find myself mirroring her gesture, my hands lightly stroking her lower back, the touch invoking a subtle shiver that courses through her.

Strange woman, indeed.

I resign myself to Zeala's unusual approach, adjusting her posture ever so slightly, as well as my own. I instruct her to clear her mind and to let go of thoughts of training, responsibilities, and all distractions. My voice is steady and commanding, a reflection of the leadership role I often inhabit. But in this private moment, it is different— I am guiding her, not as a Sith Lord or a Night Brother, but as a partner.

"Clear your mind," I remind her. "Aim for an absence of all stimuli." I watch her closely as she adjusts her position in my lap as if accommodating my teaching, her chest rises against mine as our breaths synchronize. My gaze narrows slightly, and I question whether she understands the reaction her body is going to prompt from mine. The tiniest curve to her lips tells me that she is fully aware.

I add a more challenging instruction, my voice lowering slightly. "Purge your mind of all desires." It is a test, a way to see if she truly understands the depth of focus that true meditation requires. The nature of our closeness is a distraction in itself, but I want to see if she's able to set aside even those desires in pursuit of the meditative state.

I continue, my voice a steady guide. "Let your body relax." It is a strange juxtaposition—guiding her in meditation while she's seated in my lap, both of us so close, yet striving for a state of mental detachment. It is a challenge, to the strength of her mind.

Amid the intimacy of our shared breaths and gentle touches, I guide her with a single word. "Breathe," I murmur, a directive that extends beyond the realm of meditation, a reminder to embrace the present moment.

Time unfolds with its rhythm, and our breaths intertwine as we share a moment of profound intimacy. I sense the currents of energy between us, a peculiar connection that reaches beyond the mere act of meditation. My mind begins to settle, finding a semblance of relief amidst the chaos that usually engulfs it. The weight of my responsibilities and the constant battles fade, if only for a fleeting moment.

Yet, this respite is short-lived as I detect a shift in Zeala's thoughts. I cannot read them as I would an open book, but the undercurrents of her consciousness are unmistakable. She is thinking of me. A fact that should be incongruous with the state of thoughtlessness this meditation aims to achieve. 

My eyes flicker open. Her presence, so near and enveloping, is both comforting and distracting, her curves pressed against my muscled torso. My irritation surfaces as I realize that the robe she procured from me, is slipping off her shoulders, leaving little to my imagination. I inwardly grumble at the situation, annoyance, and arousal swirling within me.

Despite my inner turmoil, she appears serene, her calm façade against my internal storm. I can sense her thoughts taking a more intimate direction, a current of desire and longing that courses through her, coming off in waves, she likely does not even realize she is doing it. 

It is a shift that puzzles me initially. Is she merely pretending? Yet, as I study her more closely, I come to realize that her calm is genuine, her thoughts unclouded by deception.

The peculiar absence of nothingness in her thoughts begins to have an unexpected effect on me. A sense of calm begins to wash over me. It is as if her serene thoughts are affecting me, transcending the boundaries of our physical closeness. 

The act of meditation between us has transformed into something different, something more profound. It's as though her tranquility is merging with my own, weaving an unspoken bond between us, transcending the confines of language and reason.

The space between us diminishes to nothing and her body is pressed against mine in ways that make concentrating or clearing my mind impossible. I can feel my body responding to her, my cock stirs and desire floods my veins.

"You are distracting." My voice is full of discontent. “This meditation is futile.” 

She suggests that if I would prefer solitude then she will leave me to my thoughts, her hands exerting a subtle push on my chest as if preparing to withdraw. In response, I grip her waist more firmly pulling her even closer, conveying without words that I want her right here with me.

Zeala's fingers embark on a delicate exploration, gliding from my shoulders down my arms and back up to my neck. The sensation is an odd mixture of pleasure and anticipation, a battle of conflicting emotions that I'm not entirely sure how to process. As her touch ventures upward, following the curve of my neck, it takes on a different quality, an almost tingling sensation that resonates through my core.

Peace and calm, which I had sought through meditation, begin to yield to something entirely different. Desire and longing gradually take their place, like tendrils curling around my thoughts. 

Her voice pierces the quiet, breaking the stillness like a gentle ripple in a pond. "Why can't you sleep?" I don't respond immediately, instead, I resort to a jest, attempting to lighten the weight of her question.

“My mate is sitting naked in my lap,” I reply dryly, my words carry a touch of amusement. Her presence, clad in my robe but barely held in place by her posture, is a distraction that I find both tantalizing and vexing. It makes it impossible to focus on anything else.

“Not naked,” she counters.

“Indeed, appropriate attire,” I remark, my tone sardonic as I take in the sight before me. The robe's precarious position on her form is testing my resolve. “Or lack thereof.” There's a subtle, reserved mockery in my voice, a tone I reserve solely for Zeala.

Her eyes open, meeting my gaze with a mischievous glint. “I thought you had mastered meditation,” she taunts, daring me with that enticing tone.

"Indeed, long before you were even aware of the concept," I remind her, a touch of pride underscores my words. But her next words are a tantalizing proposition, a daring challenge that holds a promise of testing my self-discipline. 

“Then you won’t mind a challenge.” 

She relaxes her posture completely, allowing the robe to slip from her shoulders, and it falls to the ground pooling around us, she has my full attention and she’s keenly aware of it. Astonishingly, I manage to maintain eye contact, despite the temptation presented by her actions. I have seen her naked a hundred times but the pull to touch her is as strong now as it was the first time.

“Witch.” 

"Your concentration leaves much to be desired.” She observes my struggles, and it’s clear she’s amused by my predicament. “Am I still distracting you, cyar’ika?” Her voice is akin to a purr and it sets my nerves aflame.

“Yes.” 

She is quick to remind me that she had offered to leave me to my thoughts, but I declined her offer. "Seems you're discontent no matter what the circumstances," she muses, her fingers continuing to trace gently following the lines etched into my skin.

"You will not be satisfied until you have driven me to the brink of madness." 

"My satisfaction has never been an issue where you are concerned." Zeala’s voice is a melodic murmur meant to excite me.

Just as I am about to unleash my words in a sharp retort, Zeala's gentle touch silences me like a spell. She traces the contours of my lips, "Stop thinking," She commands, the words resonate within me and her unexpected tone leaves me taken aback. It is a tone I have heard many times from her but I have never been on the receiving end of, one that allows no room for argument. Her command cuts through my defenses, and to my surprise, I am unable to hide it, compelled to obey.

She proposes that if finding solace in the absence of thought proves impossible, perhaps I should embrace the swirling currents of my mind instead.

I cannot help but scoff at her suggestion, a retort about the fundamental principles of meditation nearly escapes my lips. However, a glimmer of wisdom in her words gives me pause. 

"What are you thinking about?"

The impulse to remain guarded, to keep my vulnerabilities hidden, is strong, but I find the words escaping my lips. "You."

"Then concentrate on me," she instructs, her gaze unwavering. "My voice, my breath."

Unintentionally, defenses waiver, and my innermost thoughts spill forth as though I have no control over them. "Your scent..."

Without hesitation, Zeala acknowledges and embraces my unspoken desire. She tilts her head back exposing the hollow of her throat and I breathe deeply, allowing her scent to envelop me. "Yes, Maul."

It feels foolish as if I am succumbing to a spell woven by mere desires, not being able to resist the charms of a mere woman, all my years of training fail to serve me. I feel weak and I consider pulling away, to put distance between us and retreat into myself as I always have. I feel as though a dam is threatening to burst inside me and something primal demands to be set loose, and the lack of control terrifies me. I am not one to bow to urges, not one to be controlled by simplistic desires; I control the force around me, and I determine my fate. 

But then, I feel her hands gently touching me in a way I never knew could be pleasurable. I hear the soft cadence of her breathing, its steady rhythm, I feel her heart beating, a steady echo of life. I can smell her, sense her- my mate. Mine. My arms act of their own accord and wrap around her naked body pulling her to me and I lean into her, I begin to feel myself relaxing as my posture slowly begins to shift. I begin to feel the ease of calm that has eluded me for days and I surrender to her suggestion, allowing her to now guide me.

Zeala's hands continued to trace the intricate lines of my tattoos. The air around us seemed to grow lighter and cooler, and the weight of my thoughts slowly dissipates.

In that moment, what began as a lesson has transformed into something entirely different—a union of minds and souls, an intimate connection that transcends the boundaries of the physical world. In the firelit room, amidst the flickering torchlight and ancient stone walls, my mind still grapples with the unexpected calm that has settled upon me. 

Is this what people mean when they speak of soulmates?

She prompts me to reflect on the purpose of meditation, and I responded with the essence of my practice. 

"To achieve steadiness and focus, and calm,"

Her approval is conveyed in a subtle nod, and her touch moves up my neck—a soothing gesture that grounds me in the present moment. As her fingers dance across my skin, I feel a sense of tranquility settle within me, as if her presence is a tether to some unexplored realm.

“How do you feel?”

Drawing a breath, I follow her rhythm, allowing her to lead me further. "Steady," I murmur, a declaration that resonated with assurance. With each breath that follows, I traverse the landscape of my thoughts, acknowledging the truth that lies beneath. "Focused."

As I exhale, a sense of acceptance unfurls within me. The word I utter holds a quiet revelation, one that carries a sense of wonderment. "Calm," I confess, the syllable carrying the weight of an unfamiliar emotion. It is a state I rarely permit myself to embrace fully.

The progression of her touch continues, lips brushing against my skin as her fingers glide over my arms and up the sides of my face, stopping tantalizingly short of the base of my horns. It is a touch that's both soothing and maddeningly teasing. A low growl rumbles in my throat, a mixture of frustration and desire as I command: 

"More."

 The word hangs in the air, heavy with implication, as the boundaries of our meditation continue to blur.

She hesitates only long enough to make me crave more, then those cool, delicate fingers continue their journey along my crown, from the base of my horns to their very tips and back again. The sensation is electrifying, causing my skin to erupt in goosebumps and my body to shudder in response. The rhythmic motion sets off a series of reactions within me, from the erratic beat of my hearts to the hitch in my breath. I'm overwhelmed by the intensity of the experience, a mixture of pleasure and vulnerability.

Her fingers stroke the contours of my horns, and I find myself unable to control the grip of my hands on her hips. My fingers dig into her flesh, a mixture of desperation and desire fueling my actions, my body aches to become one with hers. My breathing, once steady and measured, becomes shallow and erratic. I find myself whispering a confession that I've kept buried within me. "Stay," I murmur, the words a quiet plea. "I– need you."

It is a confession that I am not accustomed to making and it catches me off guard. My life has been defined by pain, solitude, and the pursuit of power. The companionship that Zeala offers is both foreign and terrifying, a realm of emotions I have long been unaccustomed to, even feared. Yet, despite my resistance, I have come to recognize the significance of her presence in my life.

In the wake of my admission, Zeala's touch persists, her fingers weaving patterns of comfort and intrigue. 

Her words, tinged with playful observation, traced a path of revelation through my consciousness. "I like this meditation." She muses, her touch brushing my earlobe in a gentle caress that gives me chills.

Her words strike a chord within me, encapsulating the truth of our shared experience. What began as a simple attempt to find solace in meditation has transformed into an intimate connection, a unique communion of shared breaths and unspoken understanding. In her presence, I have discovered a new dimension of meditation—one that exists solely between us, an unspoken language of connection and serenity.

“It is too highly flawed to be effective.” I counter, sensing the internal dam straining against the pressure of my emotions. 

“You mean to tell me this doesn’t relax you?” Her voice carries genuine concern, she expects a different answer.

“No,” I growl in response, something hot and carnal burning beneath the surface and I have held it at bay long enough. "It is impossible to find a relaxed state of mind when my cock thickens and aches and every inch of my body demands your touch," My voice is thick with a potent blend of frustration and desire.

Without a moment's hesitation, my actions are resolute, and I crush her mouth against mine in a kiss that defies all inhibitions. In the early stages of my pursuit of Zeala, the concept of a kiss was foreign to me, shrouded in confusion and unfamiliarity. I struggled to discern its purpose, questioning the necessity of such an intimate gesture. At first, the notion of deriving pleasure from such an act eluded me, and I failed to recognize the subtle allure it possessed. My initial reaction was one of caution, even interpreting it as a form of aggression rather than a physical connection.

Under Zeala's alluring instruction, I gradually came to understand the depth and significance of a kiss. Through her guidance, I learned to not only appreciate its nuances but also to derive enjoyment from its intimate embrace. Over time, I honed my skills, mastering the art of the kiss and using it to stoke desire and kindle passion in my mate. With every brush of lips, I can elicit a breathless longing and a hunger for my touch, a mastery that occasionally grants me a strategic advantage, playing to my advantage in unexpected ways.

The kiss is a hungry and passionate exchange that goes beyond mere physical desire. It is a connection that transcends the boundaries of the material world. "Witch," I breathe against her lips, my voice is a low rumble infused with a blend of emotions. This term holds intricate layers of meaning—a fusion of adoration, a sense of being enchanted, and the profound recognition of the spell she casts over me.

My lips meet hers again and she offers no resistance when I seek entry with my tongue, she offers no resistance but embraces me, and her hands stroke their way up my chest. She’s pliable in my hands and I feel her sigh into my mouth with each soft stroke of my tongue against hers. Yet, I am not done. In a voice that is a mere whisper, a secret to be shared between us alone, I speak the words, 

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum," 

The Mando'a  proclamation of love that I seldom utter aloud. Her reaction is subtle, yet I catch it, and I feel it. A gentle inhale, so delicate and filled with fondness, escaping into a soft whimper. I have surprised her, the evidence in her firm embrace that draws me nearer, her grip tightened with an urgency that speaks of her emotions.

With those words, I let her in further, allowing her to witness the vulnerability that lay beneath the veneer of my strength. In her presence, I find acceptance, understanding, and the rare comfort of a companionship that has the power to heal even the deepest of my wounds. Her scent is all over me, she soothes me and her touch leaves me wanting her closer. It is almost unbearable how much I enjoy it. I feel drunk with want and I easily negotiate her into her back, she does not seem bothered by the cold stone floor, no matter either way, I will warm her should she chill.  

Her slender legs wrap around my waist, prompting a lazy thrust of my hips and I savor the sounds she elicits. My arms cage her against the floor. It lacks the comfort of the bed we share but it is too far a walk and my desire has reached its peak. I will have her here, right now. 

Never before has meditation left me in such a state; ravenous, hungry, half mad, and desperate. I want to hear her cry out my name, I want all of Dathomir to hear her sing for me. And sing she will. 

Her nails rake down my chest, the sensation stings at first then it just tickles, my patience with this woman is fractured and I want nothing more than to bury my cock inside her. To make her take all of me and feel her convulse in pleasure as I fuck her without quarter. I can smell her arousal now, her sweet perfume calls to me, and I can feel my mouth watering, whipping me up into a frenzy, and my control splinters further. 

Those clever fingers of hers reach down my chest offering teasing touches to my muscled body searching for my trousers and pulling at the remaining physical barrier between us. I growl like a wild beast when her hand slips inside and grasps my cock, her thumb stroking the hard ridges in a way that makes my entire being falter. A breath claws its way from my lungs and I break our kiss. Physical intimacy has not been a factor in my life, not until I met Zeala but she was quick to school me in the exquisite art of release. 

My breaths are shallow and I try to steady myself to gain an iota of control but she has a game she likes to play, to see how quickly she can bring me to orgasm. In this regard she is the more talented of us both, and she is doing it now. Alternating between softly and firmly stroking my cock, teasing the ridges and her thumb works circles over my head, swirling about the evidence of my desire for her. The sensations are maddening and they are made worse when I feel her lips and tongue graze my nipple. I snarl as my hips thrust into her skilled hand, her touch is fire upon my skin and I need more of it. 

Kriff, this woman. 

I let her have her fun for a few moments but as the seconds slip by I can almost taste her in the air, but it’s not enough, I need to savor her. Need to make her shudder and writhe against me, to make her crave the pleasure that only I can give her. No one can know her as I can. No one can touch her as I can. My grasp is strong yet gentle, as I take her jaw in my hand, conveying a desire to hold her attention. I tilt her face towards mine, wanting to lock eyes with her, to delve into the depths of her gaze, and for a moment, make our connection irrefutably clear.

I stroke her lower lip and the coy minx she is, sets her teeth upon me, her tongue darts out to lick my thumb before sucking softly. 

I demand her to open her lips to me and she does with an abandon that sets my body aflame. I drink deeply of her lips before moving down her body to what it is I truly want. The softness of her breasts is too tempting for me to ignore them any longer, she moans at feeling my teeth nipping and pulling with just enough pressure for it to almost hurt. She thrives off the fine line between pleasure and pain and the revelation first stunned me. I alternate between the harshness of teeth and the soothing strokes of my tongue and lips against her nipples and her body writhes and jolts whenever I do. If I play my hand right I will have her coming undone just from my current ministrations. As time goes on the more sensitive she becomes, a trait I relish using to my advantage. Until she whimpers and she can’t control how she writhes against me, the slightest breath on her skin will send her flying higher than any narcotic could ever hope to achieve. 

As I make my way down her body, my tongue dips into her navel, I can see her breathing is slow and steady but I can feel her body beginning to tense. My breath teases her where I know she wants me most. The warmth of my mouth, the sensual strokes of my tongue, she’s thrumming with need. 

“Test my concentration, will you? Let us see how you fare.” 

Her body opens to me with little provocation and I can feel my lust surge up, demanding I take, and so I do. Her breasts rise in a deep breath which she struggles to conceal as I enjoy her. Although I required guidance on the act of kissing, kissing her this intimately came naturally to me, and I needed little guidance. Slow, leisurely strokes of my tongue against her cunt have her keening against me, her scent permeates the air. I devour her like she’s a treat, and she is. A sweet delicacy only for my enjoyment. Her legs tremble slightly with want as I purposely avoid her clit, I can be cruel sometimes wanting to see how far I can push her till she begs me for exactly what she wants. 

My witch seems to think she can wordlessly coerce me into submitting by gently touching the base of my horns once more. She pushes herself up on her elbows and her reach is extended, I can feel her eyes on me. Her fingers stroke my crown with more assertion, aiming for a less delicate approach and I feel its effects immediately. The tremors that race throughout my body and my cock twitches with need, my zabrack physiology works against me now.

A growl rumbles deep within me as I harness the power of the Forces symphony of unseen energies bending to my command. With a purposeful gesture, I direct these cosmic currents, orchestrating their unseen embrace. Her form, once upright, yields to my unseen will, her arms gently pinned above her head, surrendering to my influence. 

I sense her strength, a formidable energy that dances within her, yet my connection to the vast cosmic web is more refined, more potent. I see the spark in her eyes, the intrigue of relinquishing control, of being enveloped in the inescapable grasp of my touch. It's a dance we share, a unique understanding that only she and I comprehend.

Sly amusement curls the corner of my mouth, a private expression meant solely for Zeala's gaze. In this moment, our connection pulses with unspoken understanding, a dance of power and desire, a mesmerizing duet between two souls who share something rare and exhilarating.

My hands wrap around her soft thighs giving her no means of escaping me. Only when she is at my mercy do I truly enjoy her, my lips, tongue, and occasionally my teeth tease her, coaxing more and more labored breathing from her. Her breathing transforms before my ears, a subtle shift that reveals to me her internal struggle. From the initial composed, practiced breaths, a hint of excitement and anticipation creeps in, causing a mild acceleration. But I don’t stop there; as my intimate kiss deepens, her mews and whimpers are laden with an undeniable urgency, a manifestation of her desire that resonates powerfully in the air. Her rhythm is now a symphony of need, a melody of longing. Such sweet sounds and I relish each one. Truly, I know her body so well that I could have her coming apart for me within seconds but drawing it out like this is so much more enjoyable. I have always taken my time in this act, and I will not be rushed.

The first time she cried my name in desperation, I felt a rush that nearly overwhelmed my senses. Hearing her voice, pleading for my touch, was a sensation beyond anything I could have imagined. More powerful than any Force ability I have ever utilized. The words she uttered, so filled with need, were a revelation I had not anticipated—nor had I foreseen the intensity of my craving to hear them again. It is a sensation as exhilarating as any battle won and as sweet as victory itself, yet still, nothing quite compares.

I can feel her body tighten as I stroke her warmth with a single finger, then another joins it and another. I want her ready for me, although judging by how she soaks my hand and quenches my thirst, it won’t take much to ensure she takes me effortlessly. The dual stimulation drives her harder and faster toward her peak. She continues to make sweet sounds for me and they grow in need.

I can feel when she is reaching that delicious crest, ready to tip over and I know a hundred ways in which to make her fall. She pulls at the invisible bonds that hold her down as I lap at her throbbing clit with featherlight strokes, my tongue over each growing more firm and my slicked fingers continue stroking and curling inside her until I hear it. 

My name.

She’s full of desperation and there’s a need in her voice as her body is wracked with pleasure. Her hips twist and turn, her body shudders against the onslaught that is my kiss and while I slow my assault, I do not stop. 

I can’t. The way she cries; “Yes, yes, yes!”  And the most sinful of her cries, a fragile and wanton “Please…” I need to taste her more until she’s spent, I don’t know why, but I relish in this power. A power over her body, to bestow endless pleasure instead of pain to know how and where to touch her. To see her revel in the throws of an orgasm while simultaneously almost unable to handle its intensity. 

It is a cruelty that as pleasure envelopes her, her body becomes more and more sensitive to the extent that pleasure merges and becomes one with pain. Were it within the scope of my control, it would not be that way, I would never see her in any discomfort… but I know she can take a little more.

So I push her as the waves traverse her body and she writhes against my mouth a slave to my hunger, but my only whim is to see her come fully undone again before I seek my release. It happens so quickly, it always does. It takes so little, such a light touch to her already aching and sensitive clit and she’s coming again, her lips part in a wordless cry. Her hips and back tries to arch off the ground but she is still trapped by my will, unable to move unless I permit it. She curses in our shared tongue of Mando’a, and says all manner of things meant to excite me and they all do. She cries for me to never stop but the trembling in her voice tells me she is struggling with the endless waves of pleasure and begs me to fuck her. Were I less of a man, I might have lost myself then and there to the erotic display, my mate, my Zeala lost in the throes of passion, pleasure and sex. 

I release her quivering flesh from my mouth, relinquishing my hold over her, returning her freedom to her, and she’s quick to rise and return to my lap, forcing her tongue into my mouth. She overwhelms me with her aggression and it stirs something in me, knowing she isn’t yet sated and she won’t be until she feels my cock sheathed inside her body. Until I’ve marked her with my seed, I hurriedly work the trousers off my hips just enough that I can take her. There’s time later for there to be nothing at all between us but right now I ache for her, I need to feel her engulf me and feel her walls welcome my stiff cock. Need to be safe within her warmth and presence. I feel only need.

Her hands stroke the ridges on my cock once more and I heave in several short breaths, I hiss at her touch, her eyes bore into mine and I am falling into an abyss as she sinks onto my cock. The breath is pulled from my lungs and her mouth is on mine. She licks at the remnants of her release lingering on my tongue. Clutching onto me as though if she doesn’t I will fade from her grasp. Her walls grip me and I struggle to remember how to breathe. It’s always like this no matter how hard, or how many times I have her, it is as though she was made for only me. Perhaps fate has chosen to be kinder to me now, to give me such a woman. 

For a moment we are motionless, there is only the sound of our breathing and the feel of her lips against mine. Her nails dig into my shoulders and the sting is perfect, her thighs squeeze my legs with each slow and lazy thrust as I begin to move. Her lips part and tremble as she arches her back against me and I gain control of my breathing once more, I can never tire of this, never. Not of this act, not of this woman, the stars would burn out into nothingness first. And it is Zeala who breaks our intimate silence with a command that I can’t ignore. 

“More.”

I don’t even bother acknowledging her request with a nod or an answer, I only obey a slave to desire. I have to shift our position slightly but once I do I withdraw from her and thrust back up. I grit my teeth at the sensation, the heat of her body, the slickness that coats my cock, and how she squeezes me exquisitely. 

My thrusts are slow and deep at first, I need to savor each time her walls clench around me. I need to know she’s as lost in pleasure as I am. She utters my name again with greater urgency. This woman wants me. I’m a monster but I am her monster.

“You’re holding back… don’t.” She clings to me and she forces her tongue into my mouth. I accept it greedily, but I maintain my relaxed pace despite how I know she wants me. “Maul! Please…” She’s insatiable, she craves a faster pace and a harder one. Who am I to deny her what she desires?

I will rip apart the fabric of reality if it offends her so, I will tear down civilizations and erase entire cultures of the annals of history should she ask it of me. 

Her fingers weave through my horns with a touch that sends pure electricity through my body and I thrust harder, faster. I can hear my grunts match hers each time I impale her on my cock. She trembles as my hard ridges stroke places in her no other man has, or ever will reach. I wonder if this was what she intended from the moment she crawled into my lap, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest right now. 

I cannot manage words, only groans and growls, noises more akin to a wild beast but right now I am such a creature. Her hands on my chest cause me to slow my pace and I relent slightly, uncertain as to what she wants. She pushes me down, flat on my back and my legs straighten from the cramped position I was sitting in, a feral sound claws past my lips when she sinks into my cock and I am lost in the pleasure of my mate’s heat and her scent. The steady rock of her hips against mine racks my body with tremors as she rides me, ‘Sweet Mother’. I allow my eyes to close and the sensations to course through me, my chest heaves in a breath as my cock throbs each time she slides upon it, impaling herself. It is good, so good I cannot be bothered to think of anything else. There is no Dathomir, no galaxy, no Force, no Jedi, no Sith, nothing. There is only Zeala and I.

I force my eyes open, feeling drunk, and the room blurs and spins. Everything is out of focus, save for Zeala. Rocking herself on my cock, her hands stroking her breasts, using my body for her pleasure and only for hers. She grips me like a vice and I am powerless, truly powerless as she brings herself closer to another orgasm, I can only watch as this creature who makes my blood burn and my hearts thunder, fucks herself. Every inch of her is mine and no other man will ever see her or touch her, it incites a powerful shockwave through my body and I can feel the rush of my impending release. I can do nothing to stop it and I don’t care to. My breath comes in short gasps and I growl as those white hit waves lap at me, threatening to drown me in electric shockwaves. 

Zeala slows her rocking and is quick to climb off my cock but before I can voice my displeasure; her mouth, her perfectly wicked mouth and tongue lavish my cock with attention. Her tongue licks up and down my length before swallowing me. I can feel the back of her throat brushing my head, it is perfect and something primal in me wants to see her swallow every drop of my seed I can give her. Stars this woman, then she does!

I howl as I spill into her mouth and like a hungry animal she swallows me, all I have to give. My muscles burn and my fists clench as my body eagerly greets the crest that is pulling me under. I growl her name and for a moment, I am lost to it all.

I feel everything, my body pulses in time and my skin tingles from the tips of my horns to my toes, and at that moment there is no greater pleasure, no force more powerful than this feeling barreling through my chest. 

Is it moments or seconds in which my senses return to me? I am not certain, but as I come back down, my hands shake and I see my mate, Zeala, the mother of my son, mine in all the stars. Lavishing the sweetest of kitten licks on my cock, and each one sends a jolt through me, sweeter than the last. I manage to choke out her name and her eyes meet mine. A devious look flashes in those violet pools and she soothes the hard ridges of my cock with her lips and tongue before stopping.

My physiology differs from hers in that I am not nearly as sensitive to pain and overstimulation as she is, but as it subsides, my cock is hard and I am ready to take her again. 

“Such a greedy thing you are, swallowing my cum. I think it is time to take you properly...” I growl. She dips her head back down and continues to swallow my length again, and I feel as though I can breathe fire. “Cyar’ika…!”

It is with some effort that I disentangle our bodies once and she hesitantly relinquishes my cock. I ache and throb from her talented mouth, but I want to bury myself inside her again. 

The firelight flickers as I put her on her back and take her mouth while I tease and stroke her body. She leans into my touch and she hungers for more so I oblige her. 

My fingers stroke through her folds, shuddering at the overwhelming slickness I find there. She moans into my mouth as my thumb finds that delicate little spot, that all-encompassing bundle of nerves, stoking a fire between her legs once more. I swallow her sounds, feeding off the raw desire, it spurs me on, an addiction unlike anything I’ve ever known before. One of her legs wraps around my waist and attempts to pull me forward but I shake my head at her and tell her:

“Stay still. I want to watch you tremble before me again.”

My mouth claims hers again and to my surprise she obeys me, her eyes close and she lies still while I continue to touch her. The softest touches, the ones that I know set her skin ablaze, they make her crave more and she whimpers as my lips enclose a nipple coaxing it to a hardened state. Her noises grow louder, little sighs and gasps, such lovely sounds. 

I can feel her body tighten with each stroke over her silky clit, her back arches pushing those perfect breasts closer to my mouth for me to taste at my leisure. She can barely say my name, but she does say it, a choked sob as another orgasm overtakes her. She is becoming more sensitive and stars help me. I love it. 

I can feel her trembling as the crest subsides and she’s trying so hard to take what I’m giving her but she’s losing the battle. I can feel her body beginning to shake, she will cry tears and pass out from the sensations before she asks me to stop. Stubborn woman. The way her blush colors her pale skin is radiant and I slow my assault on her body and withdraw my fingers bringing them to my mouth while she catches her breath. 

We exchange no further words, I know what she wants. I want it too. 

Our shared kiss is deeper now, a meeting and melding of souls, hungry for the presence of the other. 

She rises on her knees to join me and I turn her so that her back is nestled against my chest, her arm curls around my neck, keeping me close enough that she can kiss me, and I, her. My arm wraps around her hip and I drive up between her spread legs, she greets my cock with a deep groan of satisfaction. My face is buried in the crook of her neck breathing her in, I hear her breathing, I feel her heartbeat, and I feel her walls strangle me. She is almost part of me like this, it is too perfect, and neither of us will last long in this position.

My thrusts are slower and deeper, our pace more relaxed and leisurely. A luscious pur escapes her lips when I begin pushing her back to another orgasm, her legs tremble slightly at my teasing touch as my fingers ghost over her thighs. 

I am a selfish man at heart, I want what I want and nothing will stop me from attaining what it is that I desire, and right now I desire to see Zeala come over my cock. To feel her thrash against me, so lost in the throes of passion that I see into her very soul. 

Her soft whimpers send bolts of lightning down my spine and straight to my cock, she grips me like a vice and my senses are flooded with sensation after sensation, nothing is more powerful than what is happening between us. The Force itself pales in comparison to the energy that exists here in this room. 

She grips the back of my neck and her fingers brush against the base of my horns and it spurs me to increase my pace. My arms wrap around her now, needing her as close to me as possible, needing to feel every inch of her against me.

I fuck her hard now with wild abandon, she pleads with me to take her harder, to mark her with bruises that she will wear as proud badges, she wants the galaxy to know who she belongs to. 

Me. 

My body throbs in time with the very heartbeat of the universe, every nerve is alight, and every muscle aches from this exquisite dance. I cannot hold out much longer, her nails sink into my skin searing tiny crescents into my flesh and her tongue teases my lips in a kiss that burns hotter than any lightsaber.

She bites at my lower lip and growls at me, growls. She struggles to speak but tells me she is going to cum again, and she wants to feel me cum with her. She begs me to. How can I deny this creature when she pleads so sweetly? 

I cannot. 

I tell her with a single command, one I know she will obey “Come.” and she does! Her exquisite pleasure pushes me further and I roar as my release comes, my hot seed fills her body as we are joined in this. Her walls flutter around my cock, milking every drop. Dathomir itself seems to shake as our bodies tremble together, dissolving into pleasure. It is almost overwhelming once more, my thrusts finally slow and I feel more sated and at peace than I have in a while.

It is most certainly due to Zeala, coming in my hand has never given me the satisfaction I feel with her in my arms, clinging to me as though she cannot stand, though perhaps she cannot. Her heart beats wildly and her breathing slows as we remain tethered together for a few moments more, lost in the afterhaze of our passions. 

“Now, I am tired,” 

I grumble into her neck, as my cock slips from her body, finally feeling the sweet call of sleep. Although my muscles burn from our held position I would not trade this experience, nor any time Zeala and I have sought pleasure together. I will suffer through the stiff and sore muscles  I’m and I will deal with them when morning comes, each throb of pain will serve as a reminder of the exquisite pleasure we shared here. And every time my body cries out in discomfort I will hear only her cries and her moans. She rests against my body and it is clear that I have tired my mate properly, her labored breathing is evident enough of that and it brings an accomplished smile to my face. Once I am able to rise to my feet and I cradle Zeala in my arms as I do. She is her most desirable now, her most beautiful, completely fucked and satisfied basking in the afterglow.

It is time to return to our bed. Even though I am able to sleep anywhere, I yearn for our bed, to feel her sleeping bare against me. And while I feel no such concept as shame or embarrassment over my naked body, I desire the privacy our room affords us that I may enjoy her warmth again. 

The sheets are cool to the touch and as soon as my body rests comfortably with Zeala wrapped around me, my eyes feel heavy. Tomorrow Dathomir awaits us, but right now, I am safe with her in my arms and I feel I am finally able to sleep.

___

Wow, this was only 10k words which is like my shortest one shot to date... Guess there's hope for me after all. I am gradually working my way through my WIPs and I'm so happy to see this one done as I wrote it for a friend and I wasn't really much of a Darth Maul fangirl but I certainly am now! How did I do guys? Did you like Zeala? What do you think about a story from Mauls perspective? I personally really enjyoed writing it and maybe I'll do more with the male characters POV stories. Smutty one shot from Obi-wans POV? I would love to know what goes through that mans head while he's getting head... Sorry! Kinda spaced out for a minute! Let me know what you think! Reblog, comment and like and I will see yo uin the next one, bye

@decembermidnightso it begins...

@maulfvckers @5ush1w0rm

[talon-illustrations]

“We’re good soldiers, we followed orders.. and all for Nothing.” 🚨 NEW CLONE 🚨 Commander Mayday!! What a damn good episode, it’s the kind of oppressive tone I’ve been looking for with imperial era content. . #badbatch #starwarscelebration #thebadbatch #clonewarsart #fanartwork #starwarsart #clonewars #clonetrooper #starwars #starwarsfanart #mayday #starwarsfandom #digitalillustration #hottoysstarwars #starwarstimeshow #ipad #share_sketches #procreate #clonearmycustoms #art #commissionsopen #commission #clonetroopers #clonetrooperbuild #tcw #hunter (at Star Wars Universe) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cpnh9Npuo6X/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[jenbro27]

So very true! Hello Star Wars Family! #starwarsfan #starwarsfamily #starwarsfandom #starwars #ahsokatano #darthvader #lukeskywalker #leiaskywalker #obiwankenobi #padmeamidala #r2d2 #dindjarin #themandolorian #grogu #thedadbatch #thebadbatch #starwarsislife #starwarsobsessed https://www.instagram.com/p/CpscxfrLqxr/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[weedjedi]

From small gigs in obscure cantinas to intergalactic fame, his passion for music took him on an extraordinary journey. Do we talk Max Rebo? Yes, we do. We go there. Shamelessly. WeedJedi.com

[remarkist]

Happy National Creativity Day! 🎨 📖 🎉

For the past 3 months, we held a watch party series of all the Star Wars films. The event hosts created an ongoing, collaborative, and an entirely new fan fiction story with brand new characters through our Memento system.

Mementos are bite-sized pieces of collectible content inside our Remarkist app. They look like digital badges with short authored commentary embedded within. Remarkist app members craft and drop limited edition sets to commemorate events in our fan-creator economy. Collectors can keep, trade or auction these collectibles.

There may still be editions of these to claim, and by doing so, you become a micro-patron of the creator/author.

We are grateful for the community that has formed around this beloved franchise and we can’t wait to see what creative endeavors the future holds.

Keep shining, Star Wars fans! 🌟

[conjcosby]

Stardate: 2024.7.12 ▫ A redo on my bizarre alternate Star Wars universe where the Jedi are evil and the Sith are good. 😈 #LiamNeeson #QuiGonJinn #EwanMcGreggor #ObiWanKenobi #JakeLloyd #AnakinSkywalker #NataliePortman #PadméAmidala #StarWarsThePhantomMenace #StarWarsThePhantomMartyr #StarWarsAlternateUniverse #StarWarsAU #StarWarsUniverse #StarWarsFanArt #StarWarsFanfiction #StarWarsFandom #StarWarsFan #StarWarsFans #StarWarsFamily #FanArt #Fanfiction #Friday #FanArtFriday #FanfictionFriday #FanArt_Friday #Fanfiction_Friday #Fan_Art_Friday

[omorales81]

Every, I mean every, angry Star Wars bro on YouTube right now… before any show or episode is even released. Prisoners of some idealized canon that was never perfect. #StarWars #StarWarsFandom #GCannon #ComicBookGuy #StarWarsIsForEveryone #TheAcolyte

[redcabincomics]

Loved it! #StarWars #TheForce #StarWarsFans #MayTheForceBeWithYou #StarWarsUniverse #GalacticEmpire #RebelAlliance #StarWarsSaga #StarWarsLegends #CloneWars #Jedi #Sith #StarWarsMovies #TheMandalorian #StarWarsLife #StarWarsFanArt #TheSkywalkerSaga #DarkSide #LightSide #StarWarsCommunity #ForceAwakens #StarWarsRebels #TheLastJedi #RiseOfSkywalker #AhsokaTano #BobaFett #StarWarsLove #StarWarsGeek #StarWarsMerch #StarWarsCosplay #ObiWanKenobi #AnakinSkywalker #Yoda #DarthVader #StarWarsFan #StarWarsGalaxy #StarWarsCelebration #StarWarsTheCloneWars #MaceWindu #JediKnight #SithLord #ReySkywalker #StarWarsObsession #Fandom #StarWarsAddict #C-3PO #R2D2 #Stormtrooper #StarWarsCostume #ForceGhost #TheBadBatch #KananJarrus #StarWarsCollector #PoeDameron #Finn #KyloRen #TIEFighter #Wookiee #Chewbacca #MandalorianCulture #Ahsoka #CloneTrooper #Togruta #SkeletonCrew #SkeletonCrewSeries #SkeletonCrewCast #JonWatts #StarWarsSkeletonCrew #StarWarsDisney #BountyHunter #StarWarsVillains #StarWarsHeroes #StarWarsPlanet #StarWarsLegends #XWing #DarthMaul #JediMaster #StarWarsCelebration2024 #Lightsaber #StarWarsTheory #RevengeOfTheSith #Solo #RogueOne #StarWarsTheory #StarWarsCanon #StarWarsEpisodes #NewHope #ReturnOfTheJedi #ForcePowers #YodaQuotes #Galaxies #StarWarsFanbase #StarWars2024 #StarWarsFansUnite #StarWarsMemes #StarWarsCosplayers #StarWarsTrivia #TheMandalorianSeason4 #StarWarsAdventure #JediTemple #Tatooine #TheForceUnleashed #JediCouncil #StarWarsHistory #StarWarsFandom #StarWarsGalaxyExploration

[codybennett535]

Oola x Luke AU story idea (Version 2)

NOTE: I decided to write a second version of my story idea. This version is more faithful to the film version of Oola but she still survives & develops a close relationship with Luke. Today was another miserable day for Jabba's prized Twi'lek dancer Oola. She sat on his large throne, looking down at the floor. Thinking upon how she arrived here at the palace a year ago. She was the daughter of a high ranking chieftain back home on Ryloth. Even among her kind she was considered to be the most beautiful twi'lek to ever grace the planet. Her light green olive skin was truly something to behold. Oola at a young age began to practicing the art of dancing. It was always her dream to become a great dancer & perform in front of a crowd of thousands. She always felt so more free when she danced. Granted the dream she had would most likely never happen due her life circumstances. It was the night she performed a ritual dance for her clans guest; Bib Fortuna. He claimed to be the emissary of a wealthy nobleman called Jabba. Fortuna said that Jabba was a handsome individual who loved twi'lek culture & more importantly skillful twi'lek dancers. After seeing Oola's ritual dance he offers to take Oola to Jabba's Palace on Tatooine, where she would be his honored guest & the opportunity to be his prized dancer. For Oola this was amazing! The opportunity to finally lead a good life off Ryloth and to be the honored guest of this 'handsome' Jabba. Perhaps after performing for him he would adore her & make her his palace Queen. Perhaps even more. She begged her father to let her go & to chase her dreams while it was still possible for her to do so. He reluctantly agreed to Bib's offer & Oola would leave with him immediately for Tatooine. Oola was so excited! Especially to meet Jabba. When they arrived on Tatooine it wasn't what she expected. The whole planet was one big desert wasteland, not to mention it was owned by the Hutt Cartel. Fortuna first took Oola to another female twi'lek named Madam Garsa Fwip; who owned a cartina resort called the Sanctuary & was once a talented dancer back in her younger days. Fortuna tasked Madam Garsa to training Oola to dance in certain ways that Jabba would like. Oola didn't need much training given her background but proved herself to be extremely talented at the craft of dancing. Garsa congratulated Oola on her extraordinary talent & told Fortuna she was ready for Jabba. After they arrived at the palace Oola immediately knew something wasn't right. Disgusting ugly gamorrean guards quickly grabbed her & dragged her screaming to the main audience chamber. As soon as they entered in they immediately tossed Oola onto the metal grate that was the ground. Suddenly she heard a disturbing laugh that sounded too loud & booming to be a human. She looked up & saw a disgusting fat slug creature that was no doubt a Hutt. He stared at her with bright orange eyes with black slits. He licked the air with his horrible smiley tongue. Bib Fortuna stood right beside him smiling "Jabba meet Oola. The extremely talented twi'lek dancer from Ryloth I've told you about. I hope she impresses you. For her sake." Jabba laughed even more speaking in huttese "Hahaha! We'll see. I want to see her dance. I want to see her head-tails flying from side to side like the coming wind. Her body to move with the music fast. If she proves herself worthy and I will spare her life. If she fails then I shall take sweet pleasure in watching her die screaming. And poor Pateesa has been starving lately. I have no doubt her beautiful green flesh would taste sweet. Tell her!" Bib Fortuna translated for him "You will now dance for your new Master; Jabba The Hutt & if you value your pathetic life you will dance well. If you impress your Master well enough you will be his prized palace dancer & will sit along side him as his favorite. If you displease him then you shall pay with your life & be delivered to something far more horrific than your pretty little mind could imagine. Do you understand my dear?" Oola suddenly heard a deep growl coming from below her. Something was beneath her. Something monstrous. The very thing that would take her life if she failed. She looked back up & quickly nodded in fear. Fortuna was pleased that she understood. "Begin!" The band members that resided in the audience chamber began playing a instrumental version of the song Lapti Nek. Oola picked up on her cues quickly & got into the rhythm of the dance. Twirling her body left & right. As she continued the dance many of Jabba's guests (fellow scoundrels & criminals) began watching Oola. Becoming excited as she continued to move around the throne room. Kicking her legs up high for all to see. Demonstrating that she was not a common twi'lek dancer you would find in the slums of Coruscant. She began to sweat heavily as she continued to move under the chamber light. However it wasn't simply just heat but also fear. Fear of what would happen if she completed this dance. If she failed she would suffer a horrible fate & die. If she was successful she would be a slave to Jabba. Dancing for his pleasure over & over again. Granted at least she'll get to live. But to live as a slave is almost worse. As she continued on several beats she could tell that the song was coming to an end & with the last note she finished the performance off with a low kneel. She heard the crowd going wild with loud hoots of appreciation & clapping the dancer on a performance well done. Suddenly Jabba's voice bellowed "Bring her to me!" Fortuna came up from behind her, placing his filthy claws against Oola's back. Pressing her forward towards Jabba. Jabba grabbed a hold of her with stubby slimy fingers. Examining her once more, knowing it made her feel scared not knowing his verdict of her. "You danced well…slave." Jabba laughed with sadistic joy "We have a new dancer & now you belong to me till the day your life ends. Make no mistake lovely Oola…you will learn to appreciate me." Jabba then licked Oola's face with his filthy long tongue much to her disgust. "Oh yes…you will be my favorite." Soon after Bib Fortuna had picked out a rather revealing dancing attire for Oola. It was a black fishnet body stocking that left very little to the imagination concerning her breasts & hips. Along with a black leather thong concealing her pelvis area. Tight strapped sandals on her feet, along with a annoying head-dress she was forced to wear. The cones on it covered her twi'lek ears which bothered her. However the worst of it was the steel slave collar she was forced to wear. She couldn't stand it. After everything she ended up a slave, wearing very little to nothing. Fortuna connected a leash made of knotted leather to the collar & led her back to Jabba who took possession of the leash along with Oola. For the past year Oola had danced for Jabba's amusement, cleaning his filthy obese body & on rare days had to pleasure him by allowing him to touch her green skin. He would often lick her & drool over her like she was a prepared meal. She hated every minute of it but more importantly she hated him. Whenever she saw him eat one of his paddy frogs she hoped he would choke to death on it. It would be a fitting end for a monster like him but the universe apparently wasn't so kind anymore. Men like Jabba reigned untouched while innocent people such as Oola suffered greatly. All for his enjoyment. She became a star attraction at the palace. Many of Jabba's patrons would come to watch her dance. Granted like Jabba they watched her with lustful eyes & thirsty mouths. No sympathy at all for the girl's poor situation or the fact she was a slave. All they cared about was her body moving fast to the music beat. She even overheard some of them betting on her life. "She won't last much longer. Sooner or later she'll displease him somehow & we'll finally get some REAL entertainment. I bet she'll die screaming in the pit." "I mean yeah she's pretty & all but at the end of the day slaves are replaceable. Even twi'leks like her." "She might dance well for a slave but Jabba will tire of her eventually. And then the Rancor will receive a nice tasty twi'lek snack." Hearing such things made her soul break. She meant nothing to these hive of scoundrels. Just a dancer whose life depended on the quality of her performance & if her 'Master' was satisfied with it. She once witnessed Jabba execute a man who was caught stealing credits from his vault. The Hutt activated the trap door which dropped the man into the pit. Everyone gathered around to watch. She caught someone saying "I wish it was the twi'lek getting it but this will do!" The man stood in the pit, afraid of what was to come. Begging for his life in huttese. Hoping that Jabba would spare him. But Jabba never spared thieves. The massive steel gate began to activate & rise up. Revealing the hideous Rancor that lived on the other side. Oola's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was larger than a bantha! It's skin dark brown but scaly like a reptile. It's clawed hands long enough that they could probably tear down the chamber grate. And it's rows of teeth were razor sharp. Oola knew the man had no chance of survival. The Rancor roared loudly & quickly grabbed it's screaming prey. Forcing the man into it's large jaws & devoured him. " Oola turned her face away in disgust when she heard his bones crunch. Jabba then grabbed her by her cheeks, forcing her to witness the rest. "You will do well to obey me lovely Oola. It would be such a shame to see someone as beautiful as you end up in the jaws of the Rancor. But make no mistake my dear, if you become more trouble than you're worth I will enjoy watching Pateesa feast upon your bones." Jabba said giving Oola a lick on her lekku, making her skin crawl with revulsion. Several days later the palace received two visitors who were droids: C-3PO & R2-D2. Who claimed that they had a message from Luke Skywalker; the great Jedi Knight who was battling against the Empire & a member of the Rebel Alliance. Oola had heard many stories about him, so much so that she developed a crush on the young Jedi. Luke via hologram offered Jabba a deal; bargaining for the release of his friend Captain Han Solo. A former smuggler who worked for Jabba but failed him once too many times. Now he was frozen in carbonite & used as decoration for Jabba's throne room. Sometimes Oola thought it looked worse than being dead. Skywalker was hoping they could come to an understanding otherwise "unpleasant confrontation" would take place. As a token of his appreciation he even offered the service of his droids to Jabba. Oola knew tho what his answer would be. Ultimately Jabba declared that there would be no bargain & that Solo was now his property. Much like Oola was. Later that evening Oola was performing another dance for Jabba's court. The music playing was the vocal version of Lapti Nek, performed by Sy Snootles & her band mates Max Rebo & Droopy McCool. Tonight Oola kept her mind off Jabba & thought about the handsome Jedi Knight she saw on the hologram. His handsome facial features, his soothing voice. Oola would be lying if she said she wasn't infatuated with him. Especially the stories others told of his bravery against the evils of the galaxy. Perhaps when he comes here he'll rescue her as well. Yes, her freedom would be restored & she could finally be away from this planet, away from Jabba. Oola's daydreaming got her into such a mood that she began dancing the best performance of her life. She moved her body fast with such grace & elegance, that some of the crowd members wondered if it was a really twi'lek dancing or a divine goddess in disguise. Jabba himself became insanely lustful after watching her perform her greatest dance yet. So much so that he began to pull Oola's leash hard! Wanting her to pleasure him again. Oola however refused to endure such treatment again. Not tonight. She just needed to dance. Oola spoke in huttese "Please I just wanna dance!" Jabba spoke back "Come to me my lovely pet!" Oola responded "I don't want to pleasure you!" Jabba roared "I said come here now!" He pulled the leash even harder dragging Oola forward till her feet were above the trap door that led to the Rancor Pit. Oola begged once more, not realizing how close to death's door she really was. "Master please stop!" Jabba at this point finally had enough. She would pay with her life for this insolence. Before he had a chance to hit the trap door button a loud blaster bolt was heard throughout the palace. Everyone was startled by it, including Oola. Who was quickly pulled to the throne by Jabba, laying against his filthy obese body, in fear of the palace's unwelcome guest. After one of the palace guards had been tossed aside trying to stop the intruder, from the dark corridor came a masked bounty hunter calling himself Boushh. With him was his wookie prisoner; Chewbacca. Captain Solo's first mate & friend. Boushh was trying to negotiate the price of the wookie. Saying he would only agree to 50,000. No less. When C-3PO translated the price for Jabba he became enraged. Demanding why he must pay 50,000 for a bounty that was originally 25,000. Boushh's response was pulling out a thermal detonator. Threatening to kill everyone in the room. Everyone panicked, including Oola whose heart was beating with fear. However Jabba simply laughed with amusement. Rather than being intimidated by Boushh's negotiation tactic, he was impressed. Liking his style. He agreed to pay him only 35,000. Boushh accepted the amount & deactivated the detonator. The wookie was quickly taken away to the dungeons by gamorrean guards. The party was soon back in swing, in celebration of Chewbacca's capture. Jabba demanded that Oola go back to performing & that she must dance twice as hard as punishment for disobeying him earlier. Oola reluctantly got up from the stone dias & began doing another dance that lasted for almost an hour before retiring for the rest of the night. She was beyond exhausted. At least he didn't cast her into the pit. Later that night it was revealed that the bounty hunter Boushh was actually the Princess of Alderaan; Leia Organa. One of the key leaders of the Rebel Alliance & Captain Solo's lover. Turns out while everyone was asleep, she freed Solo from his carbonite prison. She attempted to smuggle both of them out but they were quickly caught by Jabba & his forces. He suspected immediately that there was something not right about the bounty hunter & his instincts proved him right. Solo was soon taken away to the dungeons, after failing to make a deal for his release. After Leia was captured by Jabba, he considered making her into a slave at first but decides that interrogation & imprisonment might prove more useful. Not to mention how much the Empire is willing to pay for her. Later that evening Luke arrives at the palace, Oola sees him come in into the audience chamber and tries to speak "It's you isn't it? You're him! You'e Luke Skywalk.." Jabba yanks her chain, silencing her. This bothers Luke greatly, seeing a young girl being enslaved & abused by slime such as Jabba. After trying to bargain with Jabba Luke says "Nevertheless, I'm taking Captain Solo, his friends & her as well. As far as I'm concerned slavery is something that should have ended on this planet a long time ago. You can either profit by this or be destroyed. It's your choice, but I warn you not to underestimate my powers." Jabba was becoming more angry minute by minute. Oola then noticed that Luke was standing on the trap door that led to the pit. "Skywalker you're standing on the.." Before she could finish her sentence Jabba yanked her chain again, proclaiming that there would be no bargain. Soon Jabba activates the trap door Luke is standing on that leads to the pit dungeon. Luke drops down below along with a gamorrean guard who grabbed him. After they both land in the pit, Oola watches in terror as Jabba's pet Rancor is unleashed upon them. She whined in disgust when she saw the gamorrean guard get eaten. But became frightened for Luke when the Rancor turned its attention to him. However Luke battled the Rancor in the pit, amazing Oola regarding his bravery towards the beast. Eventually when Luke was cornered, he grabbed a humanoid skull & threw it at the button on the wall which resulted in the pit gate coming down on the Rancor's head, killing it. Oola was beyond astounded. He had killed the Rancor! She cheered for him which resulted in Jabba pulling her leash even harder. He was very upset that his favorite pet beast had died. Jabba sentences Luke, Han, Leia & Chewbacca to death by having them delivered to the Sarlacc Pit, where they will digested for a thousand years. The next day Jabba travels the Dune Sea in his sail barge to the Sarlacc Pit. Bringing with him Oola, C-3PO & R2-D2. They soon arrive to the pit and Luke gives him one last chance to free them or die. Jabba of course doesn't listen & orders for them to be executed. Luke gives the signal to R2-D2 to launch his lightsaber. He grabs it & begins fighting back against Jabba's forces, along with his friends (including Lando who was disguised as a palace guard) Oola watches in amazement realizing that Luke Skywalker is an actual Jedi & that Jabba is powerless against him. Oola was now inspired. She was ready to fight back against her oppressor. To rebel! She immediately grabbed a statuette & used it to smash the control panel which threw the observation deck into darkness. Jabba was scared & confused, as he should be. Suddenly Oola wrapped her leash around Jabba's bulbous neck & began to tightly strangle him. She pulled harder, remembering all the terrible things he had done to her. Pulling even harder, for every time he hurt her, starved her, had her beaten & violated her for his perverse pleasure. And now he would die by the very distasteful object he had forced her to wear around her neck for a year. Jabba roared with rage, realizing he would die at the hands of a slave. With one last tight pull...Jabba was dead. It was finally done. Oola had avenged herself. R2-D2 soon cut Oola's leash off & she immediately made her way up to the deck where Luke instructed her to get the barge gun & point it at the deck (which in turn would cause the sail barge to explode once fired) Oola hangs on to Luke as he swings them both over the the skiff controlled by his friends, soon collecting the droids & leave as the sail barge explodes into flames. Oola thanks & hugs Luke for rescuing her as he leaves for Dagobah to visit Master one last time. Meanwhile Oola is taken back to Home One, where she gets some fresh new clothes. Later during the mission briefing for Endor, she willingly volunteers to join the rebels when they go to the Endor planet (wanting to make a difference in the galaxy) Suddenly Luke comes in & Oola is excited to see him as he is to see her. The two talk about how differently their lives changed in the past few years (Luke once a farm boy now a rebel Jedi knight fighting for the galaxy's freedom & Oola once a chieftain's daughter on Ryloth & a slave girl, is now a rebel fighter seeking the same freedom) Oola tells Luke that he means much to the galaxy & to her. While she was enslaved at Jabba's Palace she had almost no hope, but then she heard the stories about Luke Skywalker; a simple farm boy from the same planet who fought against the Empire & became a Jedi. Something Oola thought was only a myth. But he was no myth. He was real & perhaps her freedom could be too. This lifted her spirits so much so that she performed her best dances (thinking about Luke Skywalker) Luke after hearing this becomes very emotionally attached to Oola. The two soon share a deep passionate kiss but have to break away for the mission. Unknown to Luke, Palpatine can feel the intense connection forming between Luke & Oola and has a plan to use it for his goal to turn Luke to the darkside. Oola's team on Endor soon get ambushed by a Death Trooper squad who kill everyone else except her. She's soon transported back to the Death Star. Later Luke is taken there too, after surrendering himself to Vader (in hopes to turn his father back to the light side) Palpatine tells Luke that his father can't be saved & that the shield generator location being leaked was his plan & that the whole mission was a trap set by Palpatine himself. The Emperor then signals the guards to bring out Oola (who is now bound in cuffslinks) and is forced to sit below Palpatine (like a slave again) He knows how much Luke cares for her already & how far he'll go to protect her. He tells him how Oola will be his personal slave & how she will serve him greatly. This causes Luke to strike but Vader protects his master. During the battle Vader tells Luke that he can't be saved from the darkside & that the only way to save Oola is to embrace it. Vader begins to slowly force choke Oola, in hopes of making Luke give in to hatred & fear. This causes Luke to go dark, screaming "LEAVE HER ALONE!!!" He attacks Vader violently, cutting off his cybernetic hand. Palpatine tells him to finish Vader off & take his father's place by the Emperor's side. Oola fearing what Luke is turning into tells him "Luke...No. No. Don't become him. Not after everything you've done for me. For them! For the entire galaxy. Not you" Luke after hearing Oola's pleas looks at his own robotic hand & realizes Oola is right. This is not the Jedi way. Luke refuses to kill his father or turn to the darkside. proclaiming himself a Jedi just like his father. Palpatine realizing he's failed, begins attacking Luke with his force lightning and does the same to Oola when she tries to intervene. As Vader watches his son & his son's friend slowly dying he turns back to the light & kills the Emperor. Luke & Oola carry Vader back to the shuttle till he demands that Luke removes his mask, so he can look upon his son's face with his own eyes. Luke takes it off and the two stare at each other. Vader tells them both to go, saying that Luke already saved him & that he was right about him. Vader/Anakin soon dies & Luke grieves with Oola who hugs him tightly. Together they fly away from the Death Star just as the rebels led by Lando, blow it up as the shield gets taken down on Endor thanks to Solo, Leia, Chewbacca & the Ewoks. Back on Endor Luke gives his father a jedi funeral via fire pyre. Wondering if he could have saved him. Oola holds his hand tightly watching the flames. Meanwhile our heroes are having a full celebration with the Ewoks regarding the fall of the Empire & the return of the Republic as well as the Jedi. Luke sees the force ghosts of Obi-Wan, Master Yoda & his father Anakin Skywalker, smiling knowingly at him. During the party, Oola decides to perform the best dance of her life for Luke (With the Ewoks playing music & her wearing a ceremonial dress that they gave to her) after completing her amazing performance, Luke & Oola hold each other & kiss one last time. THE END...possibly. NOTE: This is simply a blueprint for a fanfic idea. Feel free to be inspired to use or write your version of these events & may the Force be with you.

[coldcrave]

Ren’s licky tongue

[adapia]

🌟MAY THE 4th BE WITH YOU 🌟 My release is LIVE on my site www.camilladerrico.com 🤗💫 I’ve released a NEW boxed postcard set of 33 of my Star Wars art, 20 new Original drawings, 2 new prints and my oversized Grogu pin set 🙌🎉 PLUS every order made on my site will get 3 free digital coloring pages🖍 The release ends May 8th so don’t miss out on the goodies while you can! Thank you so much for supporting my art, may the force be with you 🥰🙏🏻 Special thanks to @omarfrancia for his stunning coloring of the new prints! 👏 #maythefourthbewithyou #maythe4thbewithyou #maytheforcebewithyou #starwars #starwarsfandom #grogu #yoda #princessleia #leia #themandalorian #artwork #camilladerrico #darthvader #hansolo #chewbacca #lothcat #starwarsfan #starwarsnerd (at Anywhere and Everywhere) https://www.instagram.com/p/CdJF1JRrVi1/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[talon-illustrations]

“I will not falsify an official report” Quick ‘Captain Wilco’ sketch after seeing the Bad Batch season 2 Premiere. It was great seeing a greater focus on Tech and Echo after they were narratively benched for most of last season. What did you guys think about the premier? Anything from the show you’d wanna see me adapt? . . #badbatch #starwarscelebration #thebadbatch #clonewarsart #fanartwork #starwarsart #clonewars #clonetrooper #starwars #starwarsfanart #captainwilco #starwarsfandom #digitalillustration #hottoysstarwars #_artshow_ #ipad #share_sketches #procreate #clonearmycustoms #art #commissionsopen #commission #clonetroopers #clonetrooperbuild #tcw #attackoftheclones https://www.instagram.com/p/CnCxN-GuqUU/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[sagedrawstrees]

It's Anakin! I've been watching the original star wars trilogy with my best friend and have become weirdly obsessed with this highly problematic dude (because of ... fanfic). Also, this is my first painting with acryla gouache! Very nice medium, I enjoy. ⁠ .

[princessconsuelabananahammock007]

May the fourth be with you!

[haileygarciasunshine]

[conjcosby]

Stardate: 2024.5.10 ▫ What if the Jedi and the Republic were evil instead of good? What do you think could happen? 😈 @starwars #EwanMcGreggor #ObiWanKenobi #HaydenChristensen #AnakinSkywalker #NataliePortman #PadméAmidala #AnthonyDaniels #C3PO #KennyBaker #R2D2 #StarWars #StarWarsPrequels #StarWarsPrequelTrilogy #StarWarsUniverse #StarWarsFanart #StarWarsFandom #StarWarsFan #StarWarsFans #FanArt #Friday #Fan_Art #FanArtFriday #Fan_Art_Friday