#he's just mace

[ramvur]

Soap is lucky he's pretty

also i rly rly wanted to draw some of my fav kortac guys :) yes ik kortac is a pmc and they dont have a colonel

[milkcioccolato]

Coming out comic since it’s pride month yayyyyyyy

[galactic-rhea]

yikes.

I hope you're happy @squad-724 and @helloyesthisisdilophsaurus

[auspicioustidings]

Johnny, much like a dog, humps when he's stressed or excited. When it was just Ghost's thigh in private it was manageable but he's getting much worse. It's really everything and everyone now. Ghost needs to get him a toy to hump so he stops trying to fucking mount the rookies. You'll do.

[thelesbianthespianposts]

love the idea of aroace mace windu who just- doesn’t get? why everyone is having such a hard time with the attachment rule?? Like just don’t??? Fall in love???? This shit is easy guys why are you so bad at this

[izzystizzys]

As High Marshall Commander, a title foisted on him by the Galaxy’s fakest bitch aka Chancellor Palpatine, Fox theoretically has privileges and authorities like no other clone. In practice, he has a headache and gets ignored more obviously than before.

What he also has is a fancy new function on his personal comm unit modified to broadcast GAR-wide to all commanding officers, up to and including Jedi. It gathers dust next to his own modified button that sees much better use - a private channel to Stone, the only vod that will let Fox bitch at him to his heart’s content without hanging up (Thire) or bitching right back (Thorn).

It’s been a long shift of 72 hours, the maximum Stabby allows him to do without a well-placed hypo to the neck, when Fox finally collapses on his rickety cot in the Command quarters and hits the private comm connection to Stone without looking. He’s already rolling his eyes so hard it tweaks at the migraine that’s been building since hour 18 and heaving a put-upon sigh.

“Everyone is stupid, Stone, and asking to be thrown face-first from the Dome balustrades”, he begins, settling into a low, dead tone of voice to warm to the building monologue. It’s a marathon, not a sprint. “I swear to haran I’m going to wring Amedda’s stringy neck one of these days. I don’t know what magical Force gods his mother pissed off, but they made sure to punish her and the Galaxy at large a hundred times over. He sucks the joy and competence out of every room like a black hole of stupid. I’d call him a has-been, but I trust in the power of nepotism and also just don’t believe he ever was. I swear he’s doing it on purpose and - oh, kriffing Sith-damned hells, you know who’s definitely doing it on purpose?! The kriffing Chancellor, that wrinkly ass-faced ballsack!”

Taking a deep breath, Fox lets that sit in his chest for a moment, indulging in the feeling of bright weightlessness. “I swear he’s trying to keep the war going - no one man can be that incompetent and still draw breath, not even Amedda or Taa. Goddamn Taa - but anyways, kriffing hell, Stone, either the senility isn’t an act or he’s a bad cartoon villain from Dooby Scoo. Yes Sir, sending Senator Amidala to a Seppie-infested planet for negotiations is a great idea after her fourth bomb threat of the week. No Sir, I can’t hear you cackling evilly with Count Dooku under your lame two-credit robe as you’re definitely not colluding with the Republic’s enemies. What, you have a red lightsaber?! Oh, of course I don’t know what that means, I was dropped on the head as a tubie!”

Barely pulling in a harsh breath, Fox continues, palms pressing into his eyeballs hard enough to cause sparks. “And speaking of lightsabers and senile fucks, haran smite my ass off but who the kriff thought it’d be a good idea to give absolute tactical and military authority to the kriffing eldritch space monks! The Force didn’t bless them with the collective good sense it gave to a kriffing rock, and I’m tired of pretending otherwise! Has anyone kriffing read the Theed Convention of Sentient Rights in Wartimes?! NO?!! Well, color me UNSURPRISED, because war crimes ARE NOT! GOOD! BATTLE! TACTICS!!”

“They run around in crop tops, Stone, in crop tops! Oh, the Force provides - WELL I’M GOING TO PROVIDE MY FOOT UP YOUR ASS, AND IT’S GOING TO HURT BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT WEARING KRIFFING ARMOUR!”

“Sure, let’s send the preteens into active warzones under heavy artillery in kriffing party wear! Surely nothing will ever go wrong! And give them commanding positions equivalent to CC-clones, WHO WERE LITERALLY GENETICALLY CREATED FOR IT! WITH A DECADE OF INTENSE TRAINING! LET’S DO THAT, BECAUSE WE’RE ALL KRIFFING STUPID!”

He’s gesturing wildly at the ceiling now, face heating up as his blood boils beneath the surface. “And you know what really gets my lowers in a twist, apart from the preteen commanding officers and blatant kriffing high treason and war profiteering?! Is it the complete lack of recognition? Gratitude? Basic sentient rights?! No, Stone, no, I would take all that in stride if it meant I never had to see Skywalker and Amidala kriffing canoodle right in front of me again, and pretend like it isn’t the galaxy’s worst conflict of interest case in the making!”

“By all levels of Sith-hell, what the kriff is wrong with that woman? You have it all, you could have anyone, and you choose that twatwaffle?! And then they have the gall to lock themselves in a broom closet for twenty minutes straight and have me guard it! ‘Oh yes, Senator, naturally we all go rattling brooms with our good friends! Nothing dodgy happening at all! I definitely believe you were looking for detergent and have used a washing machine before!’ The absolute nerve on those two! And then last week - you’ll never believe this - High General Windu passed by, and I swear he looked like he wanted to throw himself off the roof! I’ve never been less impressed by anyone in my life, and I’m batch-mates with Bly!”

“Speaking of Bly, that little bitchtit - if I have to edit one more, one more kriffing propaganda piece of him staring at General Secura’s bits, I’m going to stab my eye out! And if I have to edit one more of Secura staring at his bits, I’m going to stab the other one out! The only good thing I have to say about them is they’re more subtle than Skywalker and Amidala, which means nothing really. I will never understand that woman - but then she’s worked with Jar Jar Binks for a decade and not had a nervous breakdown, so she either has nerves of steel or is on some good-ass drugs.”

“Girl, your choices. And you know what else is a choice? Kote kriffing roundhouse-kicking heads off droids when he has a perfectly good blaster right there! I don’t know what the Longnecks put in his tube, but I hope to kriff it’s not contagious. I’d say I’m glad he has Kenobi to keep him in check, but that man wouldn’t know common sense if it punched his nose clean off his face. Flirting with General Grievous, ugh. I’d say he can do better, but honestly, they deserve each other.”

“And Wolffe - “, panting, Fox pauses, considering. “Well, Wolffe is an asshole and stupid, and I hate him because he’s stupid and has a stupid face. Also he keeps drunkenly submitting adoption paperwork on General Koon’s behalf - I wish I could say something mean about that, but honestly, his existence is roast enough. Anyways, bitches are trying me today, and by bitches I mean everyone. Commander Fox signing off to go not commit treason, unfortunately.”

Thoroughly powered out, Fox sinks into his hard mattress with a deep sigh. Several seconds of silence reign, and then his comm unit starts blaring in alarm.

Somewhere in the Jedi Temple, Mace Windu is knocked flat on his ass by a gargantuan shatterpoint exploding.

[bubblew0lf1]

Remember how Qui-Gon is a wingless dragon? Yeah, don’t ask him for tips on how to fly.

[inquisitor-apologist]

Thinking about how, at the end of the day, at the fatal moment, the sunset of the Republic, it wasn’t Yoda, or Obi-Wan, or even the Chosen One himself standing in the way of Palpatine. It was Mace Windu.

Mace Windu, the inventor of Vaapad and Master of Form VII, the Jedi's strongest duelist, the only person to ever defeat Palpatine in combat. Mace Windu, Master of the Jedi Council and the youngest Master ever appointed to it, the revered leader of the Order. Mace Windu, who forgave even those who tried to kill him, who risked his life over and over again for his troops, who, after 3 years of desperate war, tried to negotiate with battle droids. Mace Windu, who knew the clones were created by the Sith and chose to trust them, who saw every Shatterpoint in the Republic, and loved it still, and fought for it until his last breath, until he was betrayed by Anakin, who he believed in and trusted despite everything.

Mace Windu, High General and hero of the Republic, the embodiment of the Light, the last and greatest champion of the Order, the best Jedi to ever live.

[darthmalewife]

I see so many modern AUs that have Obi-Wan as like a teacher or something and he always reads romance novels and old history stuff and while I absolutely believe that I think we're missing the opportunity to also have him read really fucked up psychological horror and just general horror novels. Like think of the opportunities:

Anakin: what's happening in your book now?

Obi-Wan: the main character has just realised the ring her boyfriend gave her actually has one of her dead sisters teeth in it :]

Anakin: oh, that's fun :/

Or Cody picking up his book to skim over what it's about and he ends up texting Rex

Cody: i think my boyfriends a psychopath

Rex: i told you so, i've seen what kinda bland shit he eats

Cody: he's british leave him alone, i meant the book he's reading, it's about a woman who talks her girlfriend into giving herself a tapeworm because they're long distance lesbians who can't get pregnant

Rex: you do know how to fucking pick them don't you, what are the pros to you staying in this relationship other than you getting murdered

Cody: have you seen the man's legs?!

Rex: stop being gay and go back to your serial killer boyfriend

[robotic-bakery]

Ogre God Play of episode 20 you mean the world 2 me

[jedi-enthusiast]

Vague Obi-Wan lore from Bloodshed, Crimson Clover shitpost:

-----

Obi-Wan, eyes glowing, in an empty room: *talking in some ancient language no one can understand*

Some Random Jedi: ...is that not...concerning?

Qui-Gon: Last night I caught him floating on the ceiling and chanting ritualistically. When I asked what he was doing he told me that Master Katri was teaching him an old Je'daii mantra...so I consider this an improvement.

Some Random Jedi: ...isn't she dead?

Qui-Gon: Yes, which is why I will not be asking again.

BONUS:

Dooku, who literally just wants to eat and go to bed: *walks into his Temple quarters*

Obi-Wan:

Ḩ̸̡̬̝̰̤̺̜͎̩̾͆̏̿̔̐̈́ȩ̸̨̛̫̟̟͕̲̭̻̖̘̘̀͊͂̕͜͝ͅl̴̛̞̘͙̲̪̭̟͓̳̳̟̀ĺ̶̛͎̲̩͔̋̋̎̇͐̿̏̽̍͒̍̎͝ȍ̸̱͚̮̤̩͖̰̣̔͗̾̍̏̆ ̶̡̛̠̞̝̻̖͔̜̫̈́͜M̷̧̗̜͕̘͈͙̠̜̼̔͊̎͋̓́̒ͅa̴̺̜̫̻̠̻̭̯͉̣͖̮̠͒ͅş̷̘͓͔̟͎̈́́̉t̷̩͔͓̳̠͈̩͇̖͈̯̰͛̆̄͂̓̏͝e̸̱̜̾r̴̛͍͙ ̸̛̟̞̠̺͓̙̩͒̍͝Ḋ̵̛̼̯̘̗̖͗͌̃͋̿͝o̸̢͕̜̭͎̫̙͌́̿͊̈͛ͅo̵̹̼͚̻̫͓̻̳̻̭̳̐̅̉͑͆̊͂̔k̶̡̨̳͓͎͖͉͔̟̹̪̼̣̎̈̈́̇̒̈́͌̀̀̌̿̑͘ū̶̬͎̀͒̊͑̽̀͘͝

Dooku, backing out the door: Nope...nope...not tonight...I'll room with Qui-Gon...just...hell no...

The real reason he was so ready to stab Obi-Wan in AotC

[lemongogo]

sketch pile w these two losers (affectionate)

[drawnbythestream]

ok 😅 some of my fave human Jedi just for fun. Without clicking on them or looking at the tags, hopefully you can tell who’s who.

[auspicioustidings]

The mission goes tits up and you wake up in a basement with a man you don't recognise in a mask that you do.

NON-CON

"You cosplaying now?"

"Thought I'd get you nice and comfortable. Tell me, this mask make that little cunt quiver?"

"Oh fuck you!"

"Glad we agree."

It's brutal. You try and fight, try and refute him when he laughs at how you get wet. Is that all for him he wonders? For the man you think of when you see that mask? You spit and scream and claw and tell him that he will never be the man Simon Riley is. He looks at you with pity and tells you that Simon Riley is a user, that just because your precious LT hasn't fucked you and thrown you away yet doesn't mean it won't happen.

You are sure his cock tears you apart, the stretch impossible. But your hips are violently thrusting to meet his, the wet squelch making your body's desperation apparent even as you bark obscenities at him.

"He'll use you up doll. Chew you until you're worthless and spit you right out. But you're too far gone" he grunts, slapping your clit hard without ever slowing in his violent thrusts. "Your pussy likes punishment too much."

"You don't know him!" you cry, nails wet from the blood they are drawing from his back.

He flips you, presses your head into the concrete floor and takes his pleasure like a dog, humping hard with little regard for the bitch under him. Your body is fucking singing, begging for this. The goosebumps feel like needles as he leans his big body over yours to spill filth into your ear.

"And you think you do? You never will the way you want to now, his cock won't satisfy. Going to fuck your cunt to the shape of mine. Won't even save your arse for him doll, every hole is going to have my imprint on it and you'll never stop begging for me to fill it."

You cum. He threatens you and you cum. He twists you body into painful shapes, positions that let him so far inside of you that the pain of your cervix being bullied has you sobbing. You cum then too.

You're babbling, half way begging and half way incoherently praising your LT. He is a good man no matter what the one inside of you says. You cling to that. Simon will save you. Simon is a good man. You love him, you love him, you love him. He'll save you because you love him.

He does. You are dripping with cum by the time he comes into the basement. The taste of it is in your mouth, your thighs sticky, your ass gaping, your pussy tender and oozing. You're out of it, just clinging to him as he lifts you and hushes your crying. He's here now, your LT is here, he's saved you.

You don't know what happened to the man in the basement who fucked you. You are so grateful to have been saved that your energy goes towards hero worship instead. You love Simon so much. You beg for him, for any scrap you can get. Please let me warm your cock while you do paperwork, please use my body to relieve your stress after a long day, please hurt me when you're in pain so we can be closer, closer, closer. Please, please, please. I love you, I love you, I love you.

But then that's what Ghost is good at, tipping the scales in his favour. You had been all together too casual for him, it's obsession or nothing. He doesn't have time for people who half-ass it. They need to be willing to do anything for him, willing to go against everything they hold dear just to please him. Just like the man in that basement.

After all, Mace never does anything Ghost doesn't tell him to.

[tiredofsatansbullshit]

*after palpatine mysteriously drops dead during the clone wars*

anakin: alright, let’s all go around and say something nice about our dearly departed supreme chancellor. mace why don’t you go first?

mace: good riddance

anakin: nope. plo?

plo: palpatine was definitely something

anakin: not even close to being nice. yoda?

yoda: abstain from this, i do

anakin: alrighty then. obi-wan

obi-wan: palpatine did in fact exist

anakin: that was all terrible, i’ll tell padmé that the jedi order will not be making a statement at the funeral

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”