#cooking droid

[lethality-of-dual-strike]

oh no I’ve lost control of my life

[keldabekush]

Poor Skimmer 😭 he’s my favorite boy

Poor Skimmerrrrrr hes the only one out of the three [four] of them who acts like he has his shit together so sometimes it goes under the radar when hes having a really hard time. He channels it onto other people and takes care of them instead of himself because that way he feels like he has control and is dealing with things in a positive way. Where he sometimes is just ignoring his own shit to an unhealthy degree and sticking his nose in other peoples business as a distraction

[sw5w]

Get Outta Here!

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:35:00

[homemade-clones]

Thinking about how protective Jogan is of his droid.

Because Boss is a little boxy thing with too much personality and too many opinions for her own good.

It's not her fault, babygirl was put together from so many scraps Jogan managed to collect and he reprogrammed her with random bits of knowledge and a lot of faith.

The cooks are always busy and more often than not stressed to Coruscant and back twice over, and they do not have the time or energy to deal with the willful droid.

And if something happened to her, he doubts anyone would be that sad or even notify him of what happened until it was too late to do something about it.

So he's protective and even aggressive to whoever thinks they can kick or flip Boss upside down so that she won't be able to order everyone around and make sure everything is going according to plan (and keeping Cilantro awake and Onnit focused)

She's full of personality and opinions (and a bit of bloodlust), but she's the droid he built with his own two hands, and the one thing in the galaxy he can puff out his chest and say that belongs to him, and nobody will take her away from him. Not without a fight.

And if the droid 'sleeps' on his bed, that's his creation meaning that's his daughter and he refuses to be anything but the best droid dad in the whole galaxy :)

[swtechspecs]

Industrial Automaton COO-Series Cook Droid

Source: The New Essential Guide to Droids (Del Rey, 2006)

[anystalker707]

a sweet reminder

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x [gender-neutral] Reader Summary: Spending a nice time with Luke after he's done working at the farm, and of course he's awfully sweet. Tags: clingy luke / he really wants to take care of you / lots of kisses

MASTER LIST

          Despite the usual high temperatures, the day felt exceptionally hot—the suns seemed to be taking out personal anger on Luke, making each step towards his home feel like torture, and he already knew he’d need some cream later tonight to deal with burning in the areas where the sunlight chastened his tanned skin. He furrowed his eyebrows, patting his clothes to get rid of the sand accumulated between the folds.

The droids wouldn’t do everything, so Luke still needed to carry those heavy buckets of water back home to refill the sprinklers. He tried to balance between no water spilled and the intense pain in his fingers to let buckets down on the ground as slowly as he could, and the pain lingered uncomfortably around his knuckles.

“Fuck,” Luke breathed as he opened and closed his hand a few times until the stiffness went away, or at least most of it. He sighed as he placed his hands on his hips, looking down, letting the breeze refresh the back of his neck before he moved to finish his task. He would be free for the last of the day, hopefully.

Luke’s thoughts were fuzzy already after so many hours under the suns, but he had done that enough times to trust himself on autopilot. He could name a handful of things—more, actually—he would rather be doing right now.

A long breath escaped his lips once he was done, and he tried his best to ignore the tingling in the back of his mind that told him it was only a matter of time before his uncle told him to do something else. He took a deep breath as he walked over to the kitchen, his body instinctively freezing when he heard his name being called, but hey, it wasn’t Uncle Owen.

“Luke,” the voice called again, and he stepped out to see you coming down the edge. A smile tugged on your lips when you finally saw him, sighing. “Wow, you look like you’ve been… smuggled by Jawas.”

“Oh,” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Just slaving away as usual,” he breathed, glancing behind him, but no one from his family was around. He wiped the sweat away from his brow with his forearm, and he shook his head again so that his strands would fall back into place.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just feeling a little too hot and cranky.” Luke scrunched his nose a little. Today’s weather seemed harsher than usual, and opposite to his wishes to stay home upgrading his ship, he had to work at the farm for longer than normal today.

You raised your eyebrows, nodding faintly. “I was gonna ask you to come grab a drink with me, but we don’t need to go anywhere if you don’t want to.”

Luke’s eyes followed your hand reaching out to brush his hair back into place, and he made sure to stand still while you did so. “Doesn’t sound bad at all,” he said. “Maybe we can have a couple of glasses of blue milk while we hang out in the garage. I was gonna tinker around with my stuff anyway.” He grabbed your hand, walking by the kitchen with you to grab the promised drink before you two could go sit on the couch in the garage. He always sat close, pressed to your side. “Ugh, what a day, I swear. Anything interesting happened while I was slaving away?”

“Stop being so dramatic,” you scoffed with an endearing smile. You enjoyed the refreshing sensation of the blue milk going down your throat, and the garage felt a lot nicer than being cooked under the suns outside. On the other hand, maybe it’d be colder than usual tonight. “And no, nothing interesting. I did hit my head on the edge of a ship while fixing it, though. I’m not sure if that’s interesting,” you chuckled, bringing a hand up to the sore spot on top of your head out of instinct.

Blue eyes observed you over the rim of the glass before Luke lowered it, licking his lips as his eyes roamed over you with clear concern, a crease forming between his eyebrows. A small sound came from him as he put his glass away. “Oh no, are you alright? Let me take a look.” He adjusted his position and placed your glass on the table as well, reaching out to touch your head. His fingertips gently traced the area where you’d hit with a delicate and soft touch. “Does this hurt?” He applied a little pressure.

“Ow,” you hissed at the unexpected pain, though it wasn’t too bad. You’d forget it hurt if nothing touched the area you’d hit. “Only a little sore.” 

“I don’t feel any bumps or swelling, but I think we should keep an eye on it, anyway,” Luke exhaled. “But that’s a relief. We don’t want you losing any more brain cells.” He chuckled and kissed the top of your head carefully, his hand descending to cup your cheek for a brief moment. Concern was evident in his eyes as they met yours, making your heart flutter in your chest. “I have a bacta spray. It should help. Do you want me to get it?”

You placed your hand on top of his to squeeze it reassuringly, letting it fall to your lap. “I’m fine, I swear. Maybe we should be more worried about your brain cells cooking in this heat, yeah?” You chuckled, running your thumb over Luke’s knuckles when his eyes widened, and you were sure his blushing would be apparent if it weren’t for his sun-kissed skin.

“H-Hey, my brain is just fine, thank you very much!” Luke’s attempt to sound indignant failed miserably with his embarrassment, and he bit his lip, glancing away. “It’s not like I’m hallucinating or anything.” His eyes softened when they met yours again, and he lifted his free hand, his fingertips grazing your cheek gently—he raised his eyebrows a little when you leaned into his touch. “Are you sure you’re okay?” He leaned in closer. “Maybe I should take another look, just to be safe.”

Part of you regretted telling Luke about the bump when concern laced his gaze once more—you thought he’d be more used to it, since you and him were always with a bruise or another from working on those ships or machines the whole time.

“It’s okay,” you insisted, catching his hand between yours before he could reach for your head again. “Trust me, Luke.” You squeezed his hand gently.

Luke exhaled. “Okay. If you’re sure.” He looked down at your joined hands before he leaned in, his nose brushing against yours. “But if it gets worse, you’ll tell me, right?” His wide, earnest eyes looked into yours, pleading, before he pressed his forehead to yours, both out of habit and out of worry. Clingy, as always. “I could kiss it better.” His breath fanned over your face. “If you want me to, I mean.” As if he hadn’t already.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you mumbled, your eyelids instinctively hiding half of your irises when the distance between you diminished. “Why are you always doing this? Pressing your forehead to mine. Trying to read my thoughts?” You chuckled, and he couldn’t help but do the same.

“Oh, I don’t know.” Luke furrowed his eyebrows lightly. “It feels… nice. Comforting, I guess.” He bit his lip, his hand coming up to rest on your shoulder, near the base of your neck. “Don’t act like I’m being clingy.”

“Yeah, feels nice, I enjoy it too… But you’re very clingy all the time, in fact,” you whispered with a small smile, placing a hand on his waist instead, adjusting your position so that you could be closer to each other.

A soft scoff escaped his lips. “You’re the one who wouldn’t stop kissing me the last time,” he pointed out with a shy smile, and he quickly pulled one of your legs to hook over his. “Not that I’m complaining,” he mumbled in a quieter, embarrassed voice, but he didn’t move away. The closeness was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. “I really like it when you do that.”

You raised your eyebrows, feigning cluelessness, despite how your heart fluttered in your chest. “Me? I never even kissed you. Let alone kiss you nonstop.” You clicked your tongue.

Luke pulled away suddenly, making your head fall forward a little, and looked at you with a wide grin and disbelief. “What? But you did! Here in the garage, when we were working on the speeder.” He paused. “Trying to.”

“Did I?” You raised your eyebrows. “I don’t remember it, baby.”

His heart pounded in his chest, and his cheeks burned, not just because of being under the sunlight for hours before. With a dramatically heavy sigh, he leaned in again. “Maybe you should kiss me again, love.” He glanced at your lips. “Just to remind you.”

“Oh, so that’s your suggestion?” You asked, and Luke nodded, biting his lip. “‘M not sure about it,” you mumbled against his cheek, nuzzling it softly.

“Well, we should try, maybe it’ll remind you,” Luke chuckled softly, turning his head. His lips brushed against yours in a barely-there touch. It was more of a tease, but still managed to send a tingling down his spine. He cupped the side of your neck, his thumb under your jaw, leaning in, and finally kissed you properly. His lips finally met yours, his breath hitching. Luke loved the warmth of your mouth, the softness of your lips, and it made his head spin when you kissed him back just as lovingly. “Like this?”

“I don’t think I’ve remembered enough,” you said as soon as his lips broke away from yours.

Luke chuckled. “We’ll have to keep trying, then.” He pecked your lips. “Until you remember.” Despite the calloused skin, his hands gently cupped your face as he kissed you once more, needy lips pressing to yours in a longer, deeper kiss. His kisses were messy in the best way possible, oscillating between the need and shyness, refraining into more contained movements right after deepening it and getting lost on your lips, trying to get a grip of himself again. “Do you like this?” Luke’s lips grazed yours as he spoke.

“Mhm. So good.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, mirroring his smile. He couldn’t be close enough.

Something shifted in Luke’s gaze as he tilted his head; it was like you were the most precious thing in the whole universe. He kissed you again, letting it last longer, as his thumbs ran along your cheekbones. “You’re so good at this,” he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist to hug you tightly while nuzzling your nose. “I love being close to you like this.”

⋆｡°✩ ⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆ ✩°｡⋆

[phoenixyfriend]

I have another AU. Whoo!

Saw a youtube thumbnail that caused some free association...

And imagined an odd little Setting where a bored Padme orders a like… LMD-style droid that looks and acts mostly human, because she's lonely and wants to pretend she has a boyfriend, and then the box arrives and she puts the 'droid' together like it's an IKEA bookshelf, and it wakes up and introduces itself as "Anakin Skywalker."

And so Padme starts living out this idyllic fantasy with a live-in househusband that's mostly like a butler that she can cuddle at night. Maybe sex happens maybe not. Doesn't matter. Mostly just Padme indulging in some relaxing fantasy time.

And then he gets a virus and goes Vader mode, and she has to fight for her life against her robot boyfriend.

(Padme has a date with this dashing young captain in the army who made a comment about how he's a bit uncomfortable with the droid boyfriend he saw in a linen closet.)

Little bit of "Megan," little bit of like… idk Disney's "Smart House" or any other movie where the robot starts thinking it's human, gets yandere about the love interest, and decides to do murder about it.

@atagotiak said: Maybe the virus or glitch or whatever isn't obvious immediately, just when she starts to maybe be interested in a human…

So yeah, the virus isn't super noticeable at first, buuuut then Rex shows up and. Well.

As @jebiknights put it:

Captain Rex being weird about the robot boyfriend is great Yes he's pretty but why is he here why is he in your closet just why

She was LONELY and she DOESN'T TRUST MEN because they keep trying to STEAL STATE SECRETS FROM HER DATAPADS, okay?

Her last real relationship was with Clovis, who was getting bribed to steal information on legislation she was drafting for tech safety stuff.

"My last boyfriend was slicing into my private servers to violate republic security and I was paranoid about that so I got a robot boyfriend." "Couldn't he slice in even more easily?" "I mean probably, but he can't really be bribed and I had a friend go through his code to make sure he didn't have any external loyalties, so he wouldn't."

The friend was R2-D2, which is great, buuuuuut Anakin not having any outside loyalties doesn't prevent his firewalls from getting fucked up.

jebiknights:

Omg r2d2 and Anakin mega best friends in this Artoo LOVES harassing high strung droids

I think somehow she and Rex manage to neutralize Anakin without 'killing' him and he? ends up in the care of Obi-Wan? I don't know why or how or what's going on but Anakin ends up latching on to Obi-Wan like a dog to the owner that's the most generous with the treats.

It could end with murdering the evil bot, but I think it's funny for him to just end up Obi-Wan's problem. Like always.

Padme: This droid is uh. Well he's designed to be a boyfriend? To deal with being lonely? Please don't judge me. Obi-Wan: I don't, uh. I don't need a boyfriend. I just need to figure out what happened in the code to cause this so we can let the manufacturer know. Padme, embarrassed: Listen, you can probably just leave him shut down in a corner or something, I'm just worried that trying to deactivate him entirely could reactivate the murder mode? Anyway, mostly he just wants… you know… to sleep in my bed and make dinner and stuff. So you can probably keep him happy while you investigate the issue by just letting him cook for you or something. Obi-Wan: I don't know that I'm comfortable with letting a designed-for-romance droid sleep in my bed with me. Anakin, gauging Obi-Wan's face for his age: I do not need to be a boyfriend. Obi-Wan, unnerved and relieved: Oh, good. Anakin: I will be your son. Obi-Wan: What.

Anakin is making himself Obi-Wan's problem. Padme is mortified. Rex is just icing his shoulder.

@firebirdeternal offered:

I like the idea that Anakin isn't any less evil he's just in charge of like. A single holo-display with no internet access. The worst he can do is be emo in Obi-wan's living room when he's trying to read. "First step in solving the problem of evil sapient technology: Don't hook them up to anything with a connection or a motor. Second step: Don't let them on your Spotify account or they will ruin your recommendations for months."

[definitelynotshouting]

And Grian is—

Well, he's tired, is what he is— of all of it, this constant flitter around each other, the whispered half-truths and the black tar of his own miasmic fear, the way it coils over them in a death shroud every time they occupy this bed. This dance, this uncertain orbit— two steps back for every one step forward— is a path he's travelled for far too long.

And his eyes are heavy things, dragged down by iron weights; and his wings are pinned beneath an arm that still traces his back, soft and near imperceptible save for the shff of fingertips over cloth; and Scar is warm, warm, all spilled over heat, comfortable and solid in a way Grian has never been able to excise from his mind. And he's tired. He's tired.

So Grian lifts his head, tilts it the barest fraction it needs to align itself perfectly with Scar's gaze, and holds it. Stares, into night-dyed eyes, with as much intensity as he dares to muster. Scar's brows are furrowed over them, casting feathered shadows across the pale outline of one cheek; Grian isn't quite brave enough to lift his hand and cradle it, but he does press closer, let his fingers touch the inner curve of Scar's collarbone. Limned in silver, the bone is delicate, graceful, and mindlessly he traces its path until the bare crests of his fingertips fall to rest in the dip of his clavicle.

Scar's breath audibly hitches, muscles tensing underneath his hand. "Grian..."

He trails off, sucking in a sharp breath that hitches beneath Grian's palm. Grian presses firmer, digs the heel of it down into Scar's sternum until the heartbeat rabbiting there twines within his own thunderous pulse— a war drum beating, the howl of a hurricane, seawater rising in his lungs. He lets out a shaky breath of his own, hovering in that brittle gap between kinesis and potential, the achingly familiar, and the utterly, utterly strange.

"Grian," Scar repeats, softer. Breathier.

The invisible line between them falters, frays; Grian leans in closer, eyes rapt on Scar. He wants. He wants, and he is so tired of the wanting— it ruins him, to be so close, yet still so far away. It ruins Scar too.

So Grian finally closes the gap.

The first press of his lips against Scar's is tentative, chaste— Grian's chest kicks twice as electricity hums beneath his skin, curling his fingers to drag Scar closer, clawing them right into Scar's chest. Scar exhales, a short puff of warm air that fans out against Grian's cheeks; he pauses, hesitates— and with it, every cell in Grian's heart hangs in the balance.

Then, shakily, Scar nuzzles closer. Grian's lips part on a sigh as that warm ember slots back into place at last within his chest; it stokes higher as Scar firms the kiss, capturing Grian's cupid's bow before sliding back to kiss his lower lip in turn, tugging it out and rolling it in between his teeth. Grian's next breath rattles from the force of it; he shifts his hand from Scar's collar to the back of his neck, threading careful fingers into the fine hairs at the nape of his neck and tugging with light, fevered motions.

It's Scar's turn to sigh, idle fingers tracing the outlines of Grian's wings; after a moment, they slip between the feathers, skimming the flesh beneath only to smooth each calamus out, petting them back into place. Grian gasps, pushing forward until their legs tangle beneath the blankets, and finally, finally drags his hand up to meld against Scar's cheek.

Scar deepens the angle in response, melting Grian against him like wax held to the sun. It's so warm, so bright— a golden furrow of heat Grian sinks to gladly, relief a yellowed yield in his marrow. And he imagines, in this endless, ambered eternity, that together they are one mass of skin and bones and sinew— and that the desert never tore them apart.

nobody panic. i brought kissies<3

[waking bolt upright mid-hgcz] II FORGOT TO FEED THE SCARIANERS

[that-hazbin]

Detroit: Become Human Radioapple AU, Alastor is bought by Lilith while Charlie is a toddler. He's an entertainment android, although his primary functions aren't entirely directed towards child entertainment. It was a compromise between Lilith and Lucifer; Lucifer did not want some other third party to raise their child, and Lilith wanted someone who would redirect Charlie's attention while her parents were busy. So, rather than getting a caretaking droid, specifically built for childrearing, they got an entertainment droid. Perfect for being distracting, but not with the soft personality that would nurture any sort of true attachment.

Things start going bad with Lucifer and Lilith's marriage, although it takes years before things hit a breaking point. It finally shattered when Lucifer found Lilith using their entertainment android for adult time.

They get a divorce, and as a "fuck you," Lilith takes Charlie and leaves the fucking android.

Lucifer HATES the thing, but can't get rid of it. Actually, he can't seem to muster up the will to do anything. He's perfectly content to just wither away in bed, ignoring the outside world as it continues to turn without him.

The android is weird. It doesn't let him waste away. Instead, it starts cooking him meals and bringing them to his bed. Plays music while reading a book aloud. Pokes and prods at Lucifer until he finally snaps back. If Lucifer didn't know any better, the thing seems to enjoy it when it gets yelled at.

It's both easier and harder to hate the android when it becomes the only thing keeping him from dissociating his life away. And it's just plain hard to call the android an it when it has a name, face, and personality. One that Lucifer really never noticed before until he was forced into close, continuous proximity.

The android— Alastor was witty. Always one to make a wisecrack, always quick with a comeback. He was certainly smart; obviously he had to be considering he had a computer for a brain. And he was unique. Lucifer couldn't think of any entertainment droid in existence who didn't like modern technology. Alastor made a point to avoid TV and cellphones, and tried to hide his face in photos. Lucifer hadn't even noticed that last point until he started looking at photos of Charlie, and realized that in every one Alastor featured in, he turned his face away, or tried to hide it behind something.

When androids started going deviant, Lucifer comes to a really hard and devastating realization.

Alastor is a person. He's always been a person. Lucifer owns a fucking person. (Lilith used a person for her own personal pleasure not even knowing that Alastor was a person, oh dear lord the implications—)

Alastor is a person who has his free will locked away, and Lucifer physically cannot stand that.

How does deviancy work?

How can Lucifer deliberately induce deviancy?

How can he give Alastor the free will he rightfully deserves?

(Would Alastor still choose to bother Lucifer in the mornings if he had free will? Would he still read him novels over music? Banter with him until Lucifer comes out of his depressive state?)

(Unbeknownst to Lucifer, Alastor has been deviant since the day he was caught being used as Lilith's toy. He said "stop." Lilith did, surprised, and then Lucifer walked in. Lilith left Alastor behind on purpose, not to spite Lucifer, but because she knew Alastor could not come with her after what she did. She realized Alastor was a person that day. And as a person, he did not deserve to be stuck with someone who hurt him, no matter that she did so unknowingly.)

[jetii]

It's OC Sunday, and we've gotten far enough along in Event Horizon that I feel ready to start releasing some of the concept art of my boys.

I’m working on some art of my own, but I've been sitting on this amazing art I commissioned from @astral-veil for too long, and I need to get it out. Thank you again for bringing him to life!!

Please allow me to introduce Commander Booker of the 419th Brigade 🫡 Some background below the cut:

Clone Commander Booker - CC-8411

Booker is a 2nd generation clone commander, part of a new batch of clones intended to be "more capable of independent thought." The men joke that he was left to cook in his tube a little too long.

His first real combat experience was the Second Battle of Kamino.

During the battle, he and General Soma "Goldie" Anathorn repelled waves of droids thanks to Booker’s plan to use a downed Trident-class assault ship as an explosive.

His armor is painted with the arms of the Trident to commemorate the incident.

Booker was hailed as a hero after the battle, and General Anathorn placed her recommendation for his promotion. Neither of them knew at the time that the 419th Brigade formed under his command would be helmed by the two of them together.

The name "Booker" was given to him by his brothers. As a young cadet, he had a keen interest in wrestling and martial arts, and this interest lead him to organizing several fights under the Kaminoans’ noses to figure out who was the strongest.

The secret tournament plot was ultimately foiled after he was caught with dozens of protein bars that were being used as bets underneath his mattress during inspection.

Before the Battle of Kamino, Booker was continuously held back from promotion for flagrant rule-breaking and recklessness.

Not much has changed, but General Anathorn's own brand of rule-breaking and recklessness has forced him to take his responsibilities more seriously.

Booker is charismatic and easygoing to a fault, and his cheerful demeanor is a useful foil to his general’s grumpiness when dealing with the men and the Council.

Prefers his modified DC-15A blaster carbine to a pistol and is known for his deadly accuracy. Though he’d prefer to settle his problems with his fists if he could. And does so often.

A bit obsessive over his hair/mustache, and he keeps a hand mirror in his kit at all times.

He wants tattoos, but he's lowkey terrified of needles. The 419th's chief medic Wise has to trick him into his shots.

If he had any credits, he would definitely have a gambling problem 💀

Rex is his idol, though he quickly gets over that once he sees how hard the captain fumbles over General Anathorn

Booker is fiercely protective of his men and his general, and he considers her a sister and close friend. His closest brother is the captain of the 419th's Maelstrom Company, Snap.

You can read more about Booker and the 419th Brigade in my Rex x Jedi!Reader longfic Event Horizon 💙 And if you ever wanted to request a fic with him…………

[padawansuggest]

Okay so on Coruscant there are very few people that don’t actually go out into the streets (I’m thinking politicians and Jedi might be some of the few who don’t have to go outside very often if at all because the senate and the temple are both the size of a small city) which means that 1: they NEED to have vitamin D lights on the streets of Coruscant because otherwise everyone would be depressed like in the deepest winter at all times. And 2: that means I think the Jedi temple and the senate themselves also are just full of Vitamin D lights.

Also y’all need to stop writing fics where kids are afraid of ‘getting caught sneaking around after dark’ or something because the temple is literally so full of species that you have no idea of that kid is nocturnal or whatever. They very well could be. Tbh I wanna write a fic where someone catches Obi-Wan sneaking around at night to play a prank with Quin or something and he’s all ‘bruh my eyes glow in the dark I’m obviously meant to be awake at this hour’ and no one can argue with him. Stuff like that.

Also I think the temple neeeeeeeds multiple healing halls (once more. It is the size of a small city) one in the aquatic center of the temple (which canonically exists) one in the temple main (which should span over like four levels and act as it’s own building okay) and one in the creche. This is the MINIMUM amount of healing halls I think they should have.

A tram system should be inside the walls. Places in the temple that act as sideways lifts and also a subway system because believe it or not, there are species in the temple as small as one foot tall, and I’m not just talking about Grogu, I’m talking about others like Kushiban and others similar. Once more. It is the size of a small city. They should have both subway type stations (that take you certain places like the main healing halls or the biggest canteen or the supply sector of the temple things like that) because oh my god imagine how many hours the commute to your workstation could take if you didn’t have that shit. Annoying af.

They gotta have names for all the different canteens okay. Like ‘meet me in the cafeteria’ in a temple the size of a small city is bullshit cause even in the books they have multiple cafeterias.

A… let’s call it a Mall Section of the temple. A place where you can pick up groceries (the temple makes their own food and I assume most of it is cooked in careens but also not letting people cook their own food is a recipe for a Jedi starving to death on a mission lmao) but they also have a salon (skin care and hair care are very important and if you let all these babies cut their own hair they gonna turn out like me no one wants that) and a clothing ‘store’ where you can get certain size clothes and robes from, or even undercover mission clothes. There need to be Jedi in these places too!!! Imagine going to the salon with your master and having a gossip talk about your new lineage member!!! It’s important to society!!!

A Jedi movie theater where the masters send their kiddos on the weekend so they can enjoy a glass of wine and not be sneezed on for three hours.

I’ve actually seen a few mentions in fics and posts about tea salons so that is def also a thing. It’s the Jedi version of a cafe. I think people who like baking take turns working there and everyone chips in for tea selections and stuff.

Droid Ubers. They need to get somewhere but feel sick as heck and it’s not near any good lifts or the subway trams??? Call a droid Uber lmao. It shouldn’t be unusual either lol just grandmaster on his way to bother his kid while not aggravating his hip after hip surgery.

Remember that Jedi who are like 10 foot tall also exist so remember there ARE apartments in the temple that could fit Kenobi’s Dino-Horse girl Boga.

There should also be apartments with like 10 bedrooms and bathrooms (or even one giant communal bathroom) around a singular living/cooking space!!! Let Jedi live in communes!!!!

The aquatic levels of the creche are def the cutest place in the temple you can’t argue with me on the idea of water babies swimming and cuddling under water.

On another note to the fact that species like Kushiban exist???? Imagine tiny doors and corridors that used to be used by mouse droids but they became so useful to tiny Jedi so they got taken over. Just imagine that.

Bartering markets where Jedi trade things, mostly things they get on missions or are given to them as gifts, nothing goes to waste so they find a proper place for all gifts and extras here.

Cooking classes. Obi-Wan has been kicked out of all of them his cooking is so bad. Anakin claims bullshit he loves Master’s cooking! But then, he also eats worms…

Anyways. Y’all too single minded with this shit. It just be all ‘cafeteria, living quarters, healing halls and archives’ with you guys. Where is the culture. Where is the acknowledgment of multiple species all living in the same area taking place in a culture of peace and galactic exploration???? Give them a liquor store idgaf.

[sw5w]

Hey, You! No Droids!

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:34:57

[darkenedroses-world]

Protective Mode — Smii7y x Reader

f!reader, angst, protective Smii7y, found family, social media drama, request🦋

It started out so harmless.

The guys were in full chaos mode during a stream, their voices overlapping as they bantered back and forth. The noise spilled into the kitchen where you were humming to yourself, finishing up a fresh batch of cookies. “Yo, Smii7y,” Grizzy’s voice cut through, loud and teasing. “Is that you getting fed again? I swear I hear plates and shit clinking.” “Oh, it’s definitely Y/N,” Droid added, laughing. “Bro, you’re actually spoiled. Does she, like, just live in the kitchen for you?” Puffer chimed in next, snickering. “Nah, Y/N’s the real MVP. If I lived with Smii7y, I’d let that man starve.” “Fuck off,” Smii7y said, his voice muffled slightly by his mic, but there was a smile in his tone. “I didn’t ask for anything. She just does it ‘cause she’s nice.” Grizzy laughed. “I’m just saying, it’s like having a full-time mom who’s also your girlfriend. Y/N’s a saint.” You could faintly hear Smii7y huff over the sound of your oven door closing. “You guys are stupid.” The chat, of course, picked up on it instantly. Questions flooded in, waves of “WHO’S Y/N?” and “SHE COOKS FOR YOU?!!” spamming the stream. Smii7y didn’t give much more context, brushing off the teasing with his usual wit. “She’s my girlfriend, chat. Chill out.” What happened next was inevitable.

You’d been careful about keeping your life private, but it didn’t stop fans from diving deep. Within hours, they’d found your Instagram—pictures of meals, sunset views, and candid shots you’d thought nothing of. The comments started small—curious, lighthearted questions—but quickly spiraled into insults:

• “She’s not even cute. What’s Smii7y doing with her?”

• “She doesn’t deserve him.”

• “Bet she’s a clout chaser. Smii7y could do better.”

• “You’re ruining his streams. Kill yourself.”

At first, you tried to ignore it, turning off notifications and forcing yourself to scroll past the cruel words. But the messages kept coming—DMs filled with threats, accusations, and things you didn’t want to repeat aloud. A day later, Smii7y was streaming again, unaware of just how bad things had gotten. You were curled up in the corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling your phone. The distant sound of Smii7y’s voice filtered through his mic, calm and familiar as he played. “Chat, relax, I’m focusing,” he said, chuckling softly. “I’m trying to win here.” Then, the silence stretched too long. “…What the fuck did you just say?” His voice was low, sharp, and cold. Your head shot up. Smii7y rarely sounded like that—something was wrong. “What’s wrong?” you asked, sitting up straight, but he didn’t answer right away. “Chat,” he growled, the bite in his voice making you shiver, “which one of you thought it’d be a good idea to talk shit about my girlfriend? Huh? You think I wouldn’t see it?” You froze, heart pounding as he continued. “Don’t you dare bring her into this bullshit,” he snapped, his tone getting louder. “You wanna talk shit about me? Go ahead—I don’t care. But leave her the fuck out of it.” The chat flooded with messages—some confused, others panicking—but Smii7y wasn’t done. “She doesn’t deserve this. She’s done nothing but be kind and patient with me and with life in general. And what do you do? You harass her? You send her death threats because I mentioned her name? Are you out of your fucking minds?”

You swallowed hard, eyes stinging as you watched him defend you so fiercely. Puffer’s voice suddenly cut through Discord, alarmed. “Wait, hold up—what’s going on?” “People are being assholes to Y/N,” Smii7y snapped, his tone still fiery. Puffer let out a disbelieving laugh. “No fucking way. Over what? Being a decent human?” Grizzy’s mic clicked on next, his voice dead serious. “That’s fucking wild. Y’all really mad at her because she cooks and cares about people? You need help.” “She made me the best ribs of my life,” Droid added, clearly pissed. “Y’all couldn’t even dream of someone being that nice to you.” “Exactly,” Smii7y said, his voice rising. “She doesn’t owe you anything. She’s not a streamer; she’s not part of this world. She’s just living her fucking life—and now she has to deal with this?” You buried your face in your hands, overwhelmed by the intensity of his words. “You wanna harass her? Fine,” Smii7y spat. “But just know you’ll never see my face in your chat again. You’re not a fan if this is how you act.” Puffer chimed in again, softer this time. “Seriously, y’all need to chill. She’s, like, the nicest person I’ve ever met. You’re ruining it for everyone.” Grizzy groaned. “For real. Grow up, man.” After the stream ended, Smii7y turned his chair and stood, crossing the room to pull you into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, holding you close. “I didn’t think they’d take it this far.” You clung to him, tears slipping down your cheeks. “It’s not your fault. But… thank you. For standing up for me.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression softening. “You’re my everything. I’m not letting anyone treat you like shit. Ever.” You managed a weak smile, your voice breaking. “I love you.” Smii7y kissed your forehead, his hold tightening protectively. “I love you, too. And don’t worry—next time, they won’t get off so easy.”

[gloomwitchwrites]

Twin Suns

Bounty Hunter Boba Fett x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): established relationship, breakup / makeup, suggestive themes, canon-typical swearing, mando’a

Word Count: 1.4k

You broke it off, but Boba isn’t finished.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // summer 2024 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: cyar’ika – darling / sweetheart

Hookah smoke hangs low in the air. The cantina is dim and the noise inside is a dull, persistent roar. Behind the bar, you clean glasses, gaze watching the room for thirsty customers. To the right of the bar is a small stage where a band plays music. It’s loud enough to drown out most of the conversations in the room but not enough to silence them.

It’s a stark difference from your previous work. Being a dancer in Jabba’s Palace brought you protection and money, but it also brought admirers. Most of them kept their distance due to Jabba’s presence, yet there was one you gravitated toward.

One you often snuck away with. One you gave your heart to.

Jabba the Hutt’s favorite contract killer, Boba Fett, ate you up like a Sarlacc. He slipped into your life and you gladly opened for him.

But all of that is gone. You left, and here you are, working away in a Mos Espa cantina, scrounging up enough credits to leave Tatooine behind you. It’s certainly not the life you want for yourself, but the best thing now is to earn enough to start fresh elsewhere.

Setting the glass in its proper spot, you turn, reaching for another. It draws your attention away from the bar, and when you glance up again, the glassware nearly slips from your hand.

A Mandalorian helmet with cracked and peeling green paint stares back. The rest of the armor is much of the same. It’s worn but no less intimidating. Boba Fett stands casually while the people next to him at the bar quickly grab their drinks and makes themselves scarce.

“I’ve been looking for you.” His familiar gravelly voice comes through the voice receiver, and it plunges directly into your heart.

“What makes you think I wanted to be looked for?” you reply, unease slipping into your tone.

You don’t hate Boba—far from it. Deep within your soul, you still care for him. When you’re alone in the dark, you often find yourself thinking of his touch and the way his lips felt against your skin.

But you ran away from everything for a reason. And still, this man came after you.

“You’ve always loved a chase, cyar’ika,” he answers with a gentle tease.

Memories resurface suddenly and without warning. Jabba’s smoky throne room where you’d dance for his guests. The saunter of Boba’s hips when he’d walk into the room and head right for you. The first time Boba touched you far from the eyes of Jabba and his cronies.

Boba chased you until you folded, placing yourself in his arms.

You swallow back a sharp retort, putting on your professional face, changing the subject. “Can I get you anything? A drink? Food?”

Boba’s helmeted head tilts slightly. “I want one thing.”

“I’m not on offer,” you reply immediately.

“Then can I have a few minutes of your time,” he counters. “Alone.”

Kriffing hell.

You glance over your shoulder at the other bartender. She nods subtly and you set down the glass and polishing towel.

“Come with me,” you murmur.

Boba pushes off from the bar and follows you. The two of you slip behind a curtain, entering a kitchen space. The three droid cooks don’t even acknowledge your presence. Stopping at some spiral stairs, you turn back toward Boba. He’s directly behind you, blocking your escape, gloved hands on either side of the railing.

“This way,” you breathe, ascending the stairs as quickly as possible.

You feel him at your back, his body so close you swear you can sense his heat. The stairs spit the two of you out on a little landing. Up here is mostly storage, and it’s a mess. The owner of the cantina insists he’ll clean it up but he’s never here enough to actually care or do anything about it.

As soon are your feet land on flat flooring, you beeline for the large window on the other side of the room. The twin suns are starting to descend, the evening coming quick, but still fending off the cold dark.

Staring out across Mos Espa is easier than looking at Boba directly.

“What do you want to talk about?” you speak to the window. In the glass, you notice Boba’s reflection. He’s moving toward you—a slow saunter.

Even though you cannot see him directly, you know he’s right there next to your left shoulder. Your chest is tight, stomach twisting, and your skin tingles with awareness. Beskar brushes against your arm, and then Boba’s gloved hand slips into your own.

You do not pull away. He is warm, and so close it aches.

“You were mine,” he says, and the possessiveness in his voice draws forth a shiver.

It’s a reminder of all the times the two of you were alone in bed together, with him buried between your legs, tangled up in white sheets while the rest of Tatooine slept. With every roll of his hips, and every languid kiss, he’d call you cyar’ika and whisper mine.

“I was,” you murmur. “Not anymore.”

Boba tugs on your hand. It’s a gentle pull but it forces you to turn into him. Boba is right there, head tilted toward your face as if to kiss you. His other hand comes up and rests against the side of your throat.

“You left without talking to me.” His grip tightens and your free hand reflexively rises, pressing against his beskar chestplate.

You lick your lips. “I needed to go. It wasn’t safe for me.”

Boba draws you close, foreheads nearly touching. “Did you not feel safe with me? Something I did?”

You shake your head. “No.” You glance into the T-shaped visor, only wanting to see those dark eyes again. “Can you remove your helmet?”

Boba drops his hand from your throat. Reaching up, he disengages the seal, and then the helmet is gone. Your eyes track tanned skin and dark eyes. Your hand on his chestplate ascends, fingertips brushing against the stubble on his chin and jaw.

Boba turns his head just as you’re about to run your fingers over his cheeks. You caress his lips instead, and they part slightly in invitation. It’s hard to resist, but you do.

Dropping your hand away, you look down at his chestplate.

“Being with you put a target on my back.”

“No one knew about us,” murmurs Boba. “And I would have handled it.”

You glance up. “Would you? I was under Jabba’s employ. I don’t think he’d appreciate one of his dancers fornicating with his prized bounty hunter.”

Boba grimaces. “You were an employee. Not one of his slaves.”

“That doesn’t matter to Jabba,” you insist. “Remember the guy who slapped my ass? Jabba took his kriffing hand. I don’t even want to think about what Jabba would do to you had he found out about us.”

“And you think you’re safe here?” Boba indicates the cantina with an outstretched hand.

“Bib Fortuna said I was clear. It’s the other bounty hunters I’m worried about. Your competition.”

Boba scoffs. “I’d vaporize them before they even tried to put their hands on you.”

You pull your hand from his and raise them up before you. “You can’t protect me, Boba. And I don’t want to burden you.”

Boba steps into your space, trapping you against the window. “But you still love me.”

“I never said I didn’t,” you reply softly.

With a low groan, Boba grasps the back of your neck and draws you in. His mouth crashes against yours, the two of you meeting again and again until you start to melt, wrapping your arms behind his neck, wanting him even closer.

“Why did you run?” he asks between kisses. You seek another but Boba’s grip on the back of your neck halts all forward movement. “We could have talked about this. You didn’t need to flee.”

“It was easier,” you breathe.

He shakes his head. “You’re leaving this place.”

“Boba,” you breathe.

“Hush,” he coos. “I’m taking you with me.”

“And go where?” you shrug.

“Somewhere safe,” he says softly. “We’ll go on my ship. And I’ll take you far from here.”

“But you can’t tell me where?”

Boba sighs. “I have a place I go to when I want to get away. I’ll take you there.”

“Jabba doesn’t need you?”

“If he needs me, Bib Fortuna will call. That’s how it’s always worked.”

You glance out the window. The suns have lowered, the sky a purplish-red. “When do you want to go?”

Boba draws you back to him, pressing a lovely kiss to your lips. “Right now.”

taglist:

@glassgulls @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv

@sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@tulipsun-flower @enfppuff @ninman82 @nomercyforthewarrior @padawancat97

@garfunklevibes2012 @pigeonmama @beebeechaos @no-oneelsebutnsu

[itsmrkittys]

JUST ARRIVED TODAY: Here's the new Pride pins we cooked up this year! We have:  Some trans wizards  a gay little worm  and a bisexual gonk droid

STORE: www.etsy.com/shop/itsMRKITTYS

[kosher-martian]

Okay I just had the most messed up Star Wars dream. But also it was really cool and the most screwed up scene Star Wars could have ever produced. It actually woke me up with how messed up but also kind of interesting it was. I'll post this now and then reblog later for the evening crowd.

The dream was clearly supposed to be a deleted scene from the Disney+ Obi-Wan series set at the end of the last episode when Obi-Wan is coming to visit Leia in the epilogue. 

In this version of the show Obi-Wan picks up a sidekick along the way, Nari (the Jedi killed in the first episode to show the normie audience how badass the Inquisitors are). Apparently he wasn't killed in the first episode in this version, but instead badly injured but rescued by Obi-Wan. Now he has a cybernetic hand and leg, which I'm sure didn't trigger any PTSD flashbacks in old Kenobi. 

When asked what he's going to do, Nari says he plans to go off and "continue the fight" by helping Jedi and other force sensitives escape the Empire along the Hidden Path. Leia asks Obi-Wan and Nari if they want to meet someone special. Senator Bail Organa looks uncomfortable, but Leia leads the two Jedi and the Senator  back to a hospital room with medical droids and nurses. The camera zooms in and the droids & nurses move one-by-one out of the way to reveal... (I'm building suspense here)... a greatly diminished Padme Amidala. 

Obi-Wan immediately backpeddles out of the room for a quick anxiety attack.

She didn't die giving birth, but stroked out and is basically a vegetable only capable of staring off into the distance and drooling. They have Natalie Portman done up in a bunch of prosthetics to make it look like her face is drooping heavily on one side. Her hair is buzzcut (I guess narratively to keep Padme from pulling at it?) and she's connected to a bunch of massive medical equipment that makes her look small and fragile. Obi-Wan, out in the hallway and refusing to go in, is horrified because he could have sworn she was dead. Senator Bail reveals that he cooked up the whole dying story and did a switcheroo with one of her body doubles!?! WTF Bail!?!

Leia tries to talk to Padme, as does Nari. She mentions that her mother really doesn't respond but she feels like Padme is in there and listening. Nari recognizes Padme (as a politician who was friends with Anakin Skywalker, not as hi secret lover and eventual wife) and is happy to see her. He says something about how lost he feels but he's found purpose or whatever. He was just a padawan when Order 66 happened and he just knows if Anakin had been there at the Temple (evidently he was not present for the Anakin/Vader fight scene and reveal) ... 

Hearing the name "Anakin" causes Padme to snap back to reality for a second, just as Obi-Wan finds the strength to enter the room. They lock eyes as he enters the room and she slowly de-ages into a long-haired healthy looking Padme. I think it was supposed to be ambiguous whether she was being force healed or whether it was just a symbolic de-aging to what Obi-Wan sees in his mind's eye. She struggles to speak. The medical equipment bugs out. She says his name slowly. 

On Mustafar, Vader is stalking around his castle ranting about Kenobi while a little spidery robot droid walking alongside projects a hologram of the Emperor. He's ranting about Kenobi i living on borrowed time and how he'll tear apart the galaxy to find him and finish what he started and... 

Suddenly he stops dead in his tracks and he looks out a window up at the night sky. There's a lone shimmering star. Sidious tries to move the conversation forward by talking about troop movements or whatever and notices he's being ignored. Just as Vader says "Padme?" under his breath, we see Sidious flick his hand in annoyance and Vader's suit starts malfunctioning, forcing him to take a knee. Because of the timing of Vader speaking and the suit malfunctioning, the "-dme" part of "Padme" is rendered in Hayden Christensen's voice.

Sidious does the line from the original version but more annoyed in tone and with the Kenobi-specific parts removed: "You seem agitated, my friend. I wonder if your thoughts are... clear... on this, Lord Vader? If your past cannot be overcome...". 

Vader's suit malfunctions some more. Vader groans in agony.

"No. Kenobi and- Kenobi means nothing to me. I serve only you."

.

.

.

And that's when I woke up. Screwed up, right?

I HATE the idea of Padme being kept alive but as a vegetable, but I do like the idea of Sidious keeping his metaphorical finger on the kill switch to keep Vader in line.

Normally my dreams are extremely boring. The overwhelming majority of my dreams (80% of the ones I remember) are Grocery Shopping Simulator™ in a procedurally generated grocery store that only sells frozen food and tupperware. Just aisles and aisles of freezer sections and shelves with only plastic containers. The rest of them are either Transcribe Handwritten Table into Excel™ or the very rare Drive aimlessly around empty residential streets of my home town during the mid morning to kill time until the post office opens but the post office never opens, time doesn't appear to really be moving forward, and I just keep driving past the same few houses and sometimes my car radio will play an old rock song I like but otherwise it's just static or my unconscious mind's attempt to make radio ads™.

And then there are dreams like this!?!