#mace windu 2024

[appljuiceboxx]

posting pride hc icons multiple times a week - day 3 - star wars prequel trilogy (+ a lil tcw)

ugh the quality is so bad guys sorry!! the bg remover thing got rid of the lightsabers and im too lazy to fix it sry :(((

no palpatine bcs he's homophobic

fandom checklist

[catboydogma]

another afterglow/another place we know

codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)

@codywanweek 2024 day 7 prompts, sol edition: modern au: teacher/uni/academia, courting

notes: title from boyfriend by teenage dads (a delightful band). for clarification: cody is a childhood/early teens language acquisition researcher (field research, language games, interacting a lot w kids, teaches reading and writing to struggling teens) and obi-wan is a pedagogy and polisci researcher (diplomatic relations, public addresses, legal/historical jargon; how these are both weaponized and used to defend/keep peace)

wc: 2,122

cross-posted to ao3

The ignominy of it all, really, was that as soon as someone else stepped up to futz with the damn thing, it started working again. Obi-Wan nearly threw his hands up in exasperation, but that would have meant tossing all his notes into the air and his dignity with them. He glanced down at the sheaf of battered papers in his hands, then back up—which was a mistake. He hadn’t taken much notice of the man who had come up to get the projector running, too busy trying to run through his talking points in his head, and then too busy being outraged that the projector had just been working not two seconds ago—

But, well. A man could hardly be blamed for discreetly checking out the… assets… of the department he was visiting. Especially when the helpful man—Obi-Wan took a moment to fervently hope he was a professor, and not a particularly tall graduate student—was, well, bent over the desk right in front of Obi-Wan, clicking into the program and pulling up Obi-Wan’s presentation from his thumb drive. My, but those slacks were certainly well-fitted.

“That should do it,” the man said, glancing over his shoulder at Obi-Wan and giving him a restrained yet friendly smile.

“Ah, thank you,” Obi-Wan said belatedly, holding his notes in front of him like a shield. And, good lord, the top button of that dress shirt really was straining to keep things together. He combed a hand through his hair, almost certainly mussing it out of its carefully-pomaded swoop, and stuck his hand out for a shake. “I’m quite indebted to you…?”

“Cody,” the man said. His handshake was firm. Professional. He had the callouses of a boxer across the backs of his knuckles, and his gaze flicked down to the matching callouses on Obi-Wan’s knuckles. Interesting. “I’m looking forward to your talk, Dr. Kenobi. You build a compelling thesis on the semantics of dogwhistles and the purposes of language used in public address.”

“Obi-Wan, if you please.” Now that Obi-Wan had a name, he could match it to a face—Cody Fett, field researcher in early language acquisition. Whoever had done this man’s headshot for the department page should be shot. It did him no justice.

“Should we give you the room…?” asked a statuesque woman with a ruddily dark complexion and vitiligo marking her face and bared arms. Her grin was sharp, but not cruel.

“Shaak,” Cody hissed, dropping Obi-Wan’s hand as if it had burned him. “Really.”

Shaak Ti—another early language acquisition linguist, but she specialized in very early childhood, coming from a neurology background—inclined her head toward Obi-Wan and winked. “I am simply admiring your spirit of welcome and camaraderie to our visiting professor.”

“Yes, welcome, Dr. Kenobi.” The head of the department, whom Obi-Wan was already familiar with, grimaced artfully at Professor Ti. “I believe this makes it a record for most on time colloquium we’ve had this semester.”

Obi-Wan glanced at the clock, which told him it was five minutes past the scheduled starting time. Beside him, Cody turned his head to “cough” into his shoulder.

“It’s my pleasure to welcome Dr. Kenobi all the way from England… he’s certainly come a long way from the Master’s student who accidentally brought a stack of ‘get well soon’ cards in place of his notes when he came in for orals, right on the heels of recovering from a broken collarbone.”

Ah, he’d known it would be a mistake to ask Mace to give the opening remarks. Obi-Wan suffered through the somewhat embarrassing—but still fond—personal anecdotes with as much stoicism as he could, and was duly proud of himself when he only teared up a little as Mace finished with his recent accomplishments and how proud he was of Obi-Wan; not only as a friend and colleague, but also as a preeminent academic and professor.

“Yes, thank you, Mace,” Obi-Wan said, letting himself be pulled into a brief hug and getting the breath crushed out of his lungs for his moment of weakness. Mace was a demonstrative man; almost despite himself, Obi-Wan found that he’d missed Mace’s particular brand of affection and closeness. “That is very kind of you, I truly appreciate you taking the time to do the opening remarks for me… I look forward to catching up to you after.”

The lecture went quickly, to Obi-Wan’s surprise. This was his first public presentation of his paper, other than a “practice” run at his home university, but an attentive audience made all the difference. It helped that Obi-Wan was particularly enthusiastic about the subject matter. There was a good turnout, too—quite a few professors and adjunct lecturers, a handful of graduate students who were either diligently taking notes or half-asleep on their desks, and a staggering amount of undergraduates, for some unfathomable reason. The attendees laughed in all the right places, were seemingly appreciative of the time and effort Obi-Wan had put into making his PowerPoint presentable—aha—and by the end of it, Obi-Wan found that he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

At the end, they still had the planned ten minutes for Obi-Wan to take questions. He made himself comfortable, sitting back on the top of the table at the front of the room and trying not to overanalyze the way Cody’s eyes tracked his movement.

“The note you make about existing beliefs and implicature was particularly interesting.” Cody leaned forward and—good God—rested his elbows on his knees. That top button had to be reinforced with something, Obi-Wan thought dazedly. His dress shirt practically strained across his shoulders. “Would you mind elaborating on the schematic you provide for the inferentialist view?”

“Yes, certainly, thank you,” Obi-Wan managed. That was his favorite bit of the paper, actually, and he’d had to cut a bit of it for length reasons—but this presented the perfect opportunity…

Some sort of activity was going on at the front table. Nefarious, if Obi-Wan had to guess; Mace was having a discreet conversation with Shaak Ti and kept giving Obi-Wan looks that were alarmingly calculating. Obi-Wan soldiered through regardless, answering a handful of solid questions coming from other professors and the note-taking graduates, one very strange question from a half-asleep graduate that had clearly been spurred on by promise of extra credit from one of their professors, and a few of the more entertaining undergraduate questions.

He ended up going well past time, but no one complained—students and a few faculty members quietly slipped out in ones and twos, with Mace and Shaak Ti conspiring all the while. Actually, Obi-Wan was starting to get somewhat alarmed about that. Mace had a bit of a… theatrical streak.

“…but I think I’ll cut it short for now,” Obi-Wan said as he gathered up his notes and ejected his thumb drive. His throat felt rather sore and he grimaced as he took a sip of water. “But I believe the department has kindly organized a spreadsheet for those who might want to sign up for lunch after, if anyone still has questions—was it that brunch place you were recommending just down the way, Mace?”

“No,” Mace said. He didn’t look up from his laptop screen. He didn’t elaborate, either.

Right. Okay. Yes. Sure.

What the hell was happening here?

“I don’t know if we decided on a location,” Cody said. He was eyeing Mace strangely, too, but stood up all the same to assist Obi-Wan in turning off the desktop and projector. “I’ve got some recommendations, if you come up empty.”

“Yes, do that, you have the most wonderful taste,” Shaak Ti said, beaming.

“Hey, Professor Ti?” said a young undergraduate with artfully-dyed blue and white cornrows, “I think there’s a problem with the spreadsheet, it won’t let—”

“Ah, let’s see about that.” Shaak Ti guided the student a few steps away and they bent their heads together to look at her phone screen and whisper about… something.

“I’ll get the door,” Cody said, guiding Obi-Wan out of the room with a hand on his back. His hands were… distractingly broad. “Not sure what Mace and Shaak are on about. We had a location decided practically a week ago—Mace loves that bistro. Something must have come up.” Cody brought out his own phone and started going through his emails, brow furrowed. Ah, it was times like these that Obi-Wan regretted his decision to leave the world of smartphones behind and stick to his trusty flip phone. But, well, he was tired of being made to scan bloody QR codes for access to everything, and he had only been partially motivated by spiting his University in the decision.

“Yes, it’s not like Mace to change his mind quite so last minute,” Obi-Wan said as he squared his notes and flash drive away in his computer bag. He dropped a few pages at some point while juggling his keys and bag, and bent down nearly at the same moment Cody did to retrieve them. They didn’t quite bang their heads together, but it was a near thing, and Obi-Wan found himself having to nervously laugh it off as he accepted the papers from Cody and did not think about their fingers brushing.

“Heck,” Cody said, staring down at his phone screen. The spreadsheet, Obi-Wan presumed, even as he found himself utterly charmed by Cody’s—very deliberate—speech patterns.

“What, don’t tell me it won’t let you edit it, either���?” Obi-Wan came around to peer over Cody’s shoulder, momentarily distracted by the way Cody’s hair curled just under his ear. “… ah.”

“Yeah.” Cody’s phone did show the right spreadsheet, or at least Obi-Wan assumed it was the right spreadsheet—but it looked quite different from the version Obi-Wan had looked at just this morning. Instead of every slot filled out with names of faculty and a couple dutiful graduate students, the only name on there was… Cody Fett. The time remained the same, and so did the title of the spreadsheet—LUNCH WITH DR. KENOBI FROM CORUSCANT U. The location had been replaced by a single red rose and a winking face. Last save… two minutes ago.

“Well, it seems I have you all to myself.” Obi-Wan had the distinct pleasure of watching a tide of gooseflesh rise up the side of Cody’s neck as he spoke over his shoulder and into his ear, still poised to look at Cody’s phone screen from behind.

“Guess so,” Cody said, sounding somewhat dazed. “You know—there’s this nice place just a couple minutes’ walk from here. You like Māori food?”

“I’ve never had the pleasure of trying it,” Obi-Wan said. “I’ve got a good palette and a high spice tolerance, though, so I’m sure I’ll enjoy it. Especially with good company.”

Cody gave him a flat look, but there was a spark of humor in the crinkling of his eyes. “You’re lucky you’re this good-looking, Dr. Kenobi. That kind of flirting shouldn’t work as well as it does.”

“Ah, so it is working!” Obi-Wan said with a sly grin. “But—this is somewhat unrelated, but it’s been bothering me somewhat for a while—how the hell did your department get so many undergraduates to turn out for a colloquium? We’re lucky to get four or five, and that’s on a good day…”

Cody barked out a laugh and lead Obi-Wan to the nearest staircase, holding the door for him and resting a hand on his back again as they went down the stairs. Wholly unnecessary, to be sure, but very much… appreciated. “That’s a good one. Mace had the foresight to attach your headshot and a link to one of your video lectures. I liked seeing you at work—you make public speaking look enjoyable. But some students were fixated on other aspects of your presentation. So to speak.

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said, flattered, and then—“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Cody said with a knowing look and another one of his small, private smiles. “Might just be a good thing after all that Mace cleared out your schedule for lunch. I swear undergrads are only getting bolder.”

“It is most certainly a good thing,” Obi-Wan protested. He bumped his shoulder into Cody’s and then leaned into the contact, letting it linger for just a little longer than was, strictly speaking, appropriate. “I’m certainly happy with how things have turned out.”

Cody flushed; Obi-Wan wouldn’t have been able to tell, but for how close he was to Cody now. Yes, maybe Qui-Gon had been right about getting a change of scenery. There were certainly lots of very good reasons to move back to the States, and not just because the food was much better…

[kanerallels]

I can't lie, day 3 of @spectre-week was the only one I had an immediate idea for and executed it in a normal, timely fashion. So here it is!!

The bays of Venator-class star cruisers were always busy, especially before and after missions. Pilots and engineers and droids dashing here and there, dealing with problem after problem. Taking steps towards fighting the war that was tearing its way across their galaxy.

In the center of the hubbub were the Y-wings— the ships that were flown in combat by the clones, and occasionally the Jedi. At the moment they were being serviced— by engineers, mostly, assisted by droids.

One of those droids, an orange-domed astromech, was supposed to be running diagnostics on his Y-wing. But C1-10P had never been particularly skilled at obeying orders.

According to some nosy life forms, he’d come off the assembly line defective, with a cranky and occasionally violent demeanor. C1-10P didn’t really care what they said, as it wasn’t really their business.

Oddly, that comment was how he’d ended up the navigational astromech for one of the clone pilots. CT-25253, who called himself Yancy, had requested him immediately upon hearing the droid overseeing him and the other astromechs complaining about him.

“Don’t worry,” he’d whispered to C1-10p as they’d headed to the Y-wing they would fly in together. “They say I’m defective, too— can’t read too well. The letters just swim in circles when I try. But hey, who needs a good attitude and reading to take down the Seppies?”

C1-10P was generally inclined to agree. Even if Yancy was overly cheerful and was convinced he needed a nickname. He claimed that a string of numbers wasn’t much of a name for anyone, even a droid, so he spent a lot of time trying to figure out the right one.

Not right now, though. Right now he was talking to the engineer examining their Y-wing. C1-10P didn’t really spend more time remembering being’s names than he had to, but considering this one was one of the few beings on the ship who seemed to be somewhat competent, it had stuck with him. 

Nita had blue and black streaked hair twisted back behind her head and olive green skin, and she was currently halfway under the Y-wing, messing with the engine. Yancy was leaning against the side of the ship, talking to her in a casual voice as she worked. C1-10P didn’t know what he was saying, but he got the gist. His pilot spent a lot of time talking to Nita, and unfortunately she didn’t seem to mind.

So busy the two of them were— Nita mostly with her work, Yancy entirely with charming Nita— that neither of them noticed the two brown-robed figures walking past. But C1-10P did.

He quietly watched the duo as they paused, watching the engineers at work. One was tall and didn’t have any of the hair most humans did, just dark brown skin and a serious expression edged with a bit of a frown.

The other was shorter, with lighter brown skin and brown hair looped behind her head. Hands tucked into her robe sleeves, she strolled closer, watching Yancy and Nita with a small smile on her face.

She glanced at C1-10P and winked. “Looks like you have your hands full, my friend,” she told him in a low voice. “I know the type. Good luck.”

“You have no idea,” C1-10P told her, and she laughed.

“Depa.” The stern-faced man spoke from a little ways away, his expression gentling a little as he spoke. “The captain is awaiting our arrival. We shouldn’t make him wait.”

“Of course, Master.” Giving C1-10P a smile, the woman said, “Until next time. Safe stars out there.”

Before C1-10P could so much as beep his gratitude— which wasn’t really something he’d do. Often. But maybe this time— she was heading on her way with her companion. Interesting, the droid thought.

But he didn’t have much time to ponder. Before he knew it, he’d be up in a Y-wing again, fighting a war that wasn’t his. But at least he had a good pilot and a better engineer. There wasn’t much more he could ask for at the moment.

[alexversenaberrie]

In better Jedi Universe, Leia's and Luke's other master is/are:

Results of Leia's and Luke's survey.

[sopherfly]

Happy May the 4th!

Hello there, and May the 4th be with you!

In honor of our favorite fandom (and our favorite goobers, aka obikin), @temple-mistress and I are thrilled to bring you a “flight” of some of our obikin WIPs, along with one indulgent extra! Please see the menu and snippets below. Let us know which completed work you want to see us post first! ✨

May the 4th WIP Flight

Clone Wars Verse | gffa obikin 

Papa Verse | gffa obikin

Omegaverse | gffa obikin, alpha Anakin & omega Obi-Wan

Quindu | bonus pour - gffa Quinlan Vos/Mace Windu, on a ski trip, in the hot tub

~~~~~

Clone Wars Verse | gffa obikin 

Anakin smirks a little. “Really, old man?” 

Obi-Wan can’t help but roll his eyes, sighing like the utterly oppressed. “You're in my lap, darling. It's hard not to be… affected.”

“Hard, huh?” Anakin outright grins. He blinks up at Obi-Wan, his gaze growing suddenly heated. “Need me to help with that?”

Obi-Wan's fingers tighten, just a little, in those curls. Damn him and his insufferable conceit. Eyes darkening, he nods sharply, just once. “As it is entirely your doing, it does seem like the correct course of action.”

Anakin licks his lips. “So it’s my fault that I make you horny?” he teases, turning his head to nuzzle the now fully-hard outline of Obi-Wan’s cock. 

~~~~~

Papa Verse | gffa obikin

“Hurry up, old man, need your hands on me, kriff, come on.”

“Why don’t you help me, then,” Obi-Wan replies, his voice low with amusement and arousal. “Use the Force if you want, I won’t object.”

Anakin shakes his head, mildly exasperated. “You never do, when you want to fuck me.” His brow furrows, and his hands push at tunics while the Force obeys his almost unconscious command and tugs down Obi-Wan's trousers. “You...you do want that, right? You want to fuck me?” He pulls his tunic sleeves down, off, and wraps his arms around Obi-Wan's waist, hiding his flushed cheeks against Obi-Wan's neck, inhaling deeply. “Tell me. Tell me you want me. Tell me how you wanna fuck me, how much you want to be inside me, stang, I need to hear it.”

“Of course I want that, want you,” Obi-Wan rasps, his hands winding their way into Anakin’s hair. “I can hardly breathe with how badly I need you.” He tilts his head to press heated kisses against Anakin’s hairline, his temple, his jawbone. “I want to kiss you hard, and fuck you harder—I want to hold you too tight, and mark you up without any care for who might see the bruises.”

“Master,” Anakin groans, hands skimming up the expanse of Obi-Wan's back and down over the curve of his ass, pulling their hips together.

~~~~~

Omegaverse | gffa obikin, alpha Anakin & omega Obi-Wan

"I have wanted you for far longer than a day off of suppressants would suggest,” Obi-Wan admits in a low, confiding voice. “I had assumed you were a beta, uninterested in the needs of any omega, let alone your old master. You are brilliant, beautiful, strong, and passionate in all that you do, and of course I wanted—I want—you.” He cups Anakin's cheek, then leans forward to press their foreheads together, ghosting a thumb over Anakin's bottom lip. “Are you sure you want me, and not just the one omega you've been around for most of your life?" 

Anakin nuzzles into Obi-Wan’s hand, nosing and scenting at his wrist. “I… I can’t imagine wanting anyone but you,” he murmurs. “And believe me, I’ve tried,” he adds with light, rueful humor. “Ever since I presented—maybe even before—you were the one I wanted. Can I…” He pauses, mouthing over Obi-Wan’s skin. “Kriff, I’m sorry, I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to ask this. I just never thought…” He moves closer to breathe the words into Obi-Wan’s ear, a soft, still-vulnerable confession. “I want to fuck you. I want to touch all of you. Can I?”

Obi-Wan sucks in a sharp breath. The scent of aroused alpha invades his senses. He feels the utter sincerity of Anakin in their bond, and he's caught up for a moment by the rush of fondness he feels, his heart stuttering with the sudden, overwhelming realization that it's Anakin who wants Obi-Wan. 

His inner omega prods at him, reminding him that there's an alpha nosing at his ear, soliciting his attention with placating kisses and heated words. He feels his stomach tighten, and he nods, tilting his head enough to expose his mating gland. “If—if you're certain. Kriff, yes. Touch me, please. Let me see you, alpha. All of you.”

~~~~~

Quindu | bonus pour - gffa Quinlan Vos/Mace Windu, on a ski trip, in the hot tub

“Mmm, you're a fucking tease, you know that?” Quin admits with a gasp. “Not that it doesn't, kriff, do anything for me.”

“I’m just helping you relax,” Mace replies, his finger brushing and pressing at Quin’s hole. He leans up and forward, letting his lips linger over Quin’s for a moment, not kissing, just barely touching, then finally wraps his free hand around Quin’s cock. He keeps his grip loose, squeezing just a little with each stroke when he gets to the head. “Think I can make you come before I do?” Mace murmurs.

With a lazy grin against Mace's mouth, Quin releases an affirmative noise. It's not often he gets there before Mace, but he's so relaxed and still a little Force-depleted that it's not going to take much. Especially not when he's got Windu teasing and working him over, not fast and intense, but slow, soft, indulgent. 

Quin never imagined he'd go for something like this, or that he'd ever have it, even, and the fact that it's Mace does something to him, something that feels warm and safe, so when Mace presses against his rim, slipping a little inside, Quin jolts. “Y-yeah, yeah. Know you can.”

With a hum that’s half amusement, half approval, Mace presses a kiss to the corner of Quin’s mouth and lets his finger slip further inside. He massages Quin’s prostate slowly, with just enough pressure that it’s no longer a tease, and the rhythm of his other hand speeds up as he focuses on the sensitive head of Quin’s cock. 

“Love the way you looked out there,” Mace says, his voice thick with arousal and something else, something familiar, something they both know but never name. “Wanted to ask you to suck me off once we both got to the bottom.”

Quin begins to pant softly, the corners of his eyes crinkling and releasing with each press of Mace's finger. Gods, Mace knows him so well, a better partner, a better lover, than Quin can remember having. He knows deep down he should be wary of the growing attachment, because that's what this—whatever this means—is; and below even that is a warmth and contentment, a feeling of acceptance that he's afraid to look at too closely for fear of spooking it away. 

“Y-you know I would,” Quin says. “Any t-time, any place. Always r-ready to have your cock in my mouth.” His pants turn to grunts as he arches up into Mace's hand and down onto his finger. “D-don't stop, baby. So good, yeah, yeah. Fuck, close, yeah, so close.”

[king-k-ripple]

I knew well in advance that Gen Z men were going to politically stab us in the back (and this is coming from a Gen Z man myself who hasn’t been radicalized). This made me realize, Gen Z men’s fall to the right was almost EXACTLY like how Anakin from Star Wars Revenge of the Sith turned to the dark side despite nobody, not even Anakin himself, would have even thought of doing so, and Palpatine was the gender war “red pill” anti-feminist social media this entire time:

Anakin’s indoctrination, much like Gen Z’s, directly determined the rise of the alt right trifecta in the American government in 2024:

Radicalized Gen Z men fighting the Gen Z men who haven’t been radicalized:

And of course, when the consequences of radicalized Gen Z men’s actions come to haunt them forever:

I can’t believe the people who originally were supportive of me on every level are now the very people responsible for likely no longer allowing me to post anything LGBTQ-related ever again. I feel betrayed, because I was.

Don’t say Revenge of the Sith didn’t warn us.

[kalevalakryze]

Shatter Meet Point

@jedijune Week 1; Prompt 1 Fun/Joy

Relationships: Mace Windu & Original Female Character, Mace Windu & Original Clone Trooper Characters

Characters: Mace Windu, Chessaf're'krudo (Original Female Character), CT-00-2010; Droidbait, Original Clone Trooper Characters, Anakin Skywalker (Mentioned)

Tags: No Major Warnings, Droidbait Lives,

Word Count: 717

AO3 Link: Here!

"Master Windu!" Chess called out, violet hair impossibly to miss in the seas of white-helmeted clones. Even with all the activity around her, the young knight's voice seemed to echo through the hangar as she deftly wove between the different platoons of marching troopers.

A gap between Mace's own 187th and Skywalker's 501st opened up, allowing the Keshiri to dart between them before being trampled, sidling up to her old Master's side with a bantha-shit eating grin on her face.

"Knight Krudo." He greeted civilly, carefully eying the fresh purple and red paint streaked across the battle-worn plastoid, barely hidden by equally worn robes. His brow rose inquisitively as he focused back ahead. Large gatherings of the troopers outside of Coruscant or Kamino were rare where so many different battalions were concerned. "Have you decided which of your troopers you'll be sending to our combined vanguard?"

He didn't need eyes to know that her grin was widening to a concerning stretch, able to catch the way the dark scar across her face wrinkled as her face contorted into something worrying. "Of course, Master. My men are ready... Would you like to meet them?"

Mace hesitated- Chess only knew some of the story, and could barely seem to grasp his... distance, from the troopers who'd fought and died at his command. She'd only been conscious for part of the first disaster on Geonosis. There was a reason his battalion never removed their helmets in his presence, and it all came back to that face. And unfortunately for him, his young knight could never seem to let. it. go.

A gloved hand reached to encircle his wrist. Mace barely uttered a grunt of protest before she was pulling him away towards the fleet of crudely painted LAATs.

"Generals on deck!" A voice shouted, commanding the attention of his brothers. The 141st snapped to attention, no helmet that faced them was alike, all with varying shades of reds and purples, capturing the visage of the Jedi they served.

"At ease," Chess called, waving the hand not keeping Mace prisoner as she continued to drag her Master through the ranks of her battalion, weaving once more as they resumed what had been interrupted. Despite their ease, not a helmet was removed. Mace couldn't help the swell of warmth in his chest, knowing the knight had asked them to refrain while he was among them.

"Master Windu, these are the troopers I've selected for your vanguard." There was something dangerous in her tone- not in the danger that came with the dark side, no. Something variably worse. The danger in a youngling's voice before a Master would find themselves sitting on a cushion full of goop.

"My finest ARCs-" The two specialists stood in a modified form of parade rest, hands clasped behind their backs, chins held high with the hangar lights glinting off their visors. The trooper on the left had paint crossed throughout his armor, giving the visage of a shattering transparisteel viewport . The soldier to the right was decorated in minutely detailed star maps and arrows, etched with the same care one would take if they were bleeding the ink into skin, not plastoid. "This is Shatter, and Point."

Mace blinked... then again. Chess poorly stifled the laughter that threatened to roar through her throat. Somewhere behind Mace, Skywalker's steps paused, openly guffawing at the interaction.

"Knight Krudo." Mace monotoned, staring at the troopers before him. "I find your so-called humor... lacking." He spun on his heel, causing Skywalker to run for the hills, hiding in the throngs of his own battalion. "Droidbait!" He called, zeroing in on one of the blue-painted troopers. "Welcome to the vanguard."

Chess paused, her grin slowly twisting into a scowl. Anakin's head poked through his platoon. "Uh... Master Windu? I was just going to give you Echo and Fives..."

"No need, Skywalker. Droidbait... and Cutup will do just fine with General Krudo's troops for this operation."

"Master?" His padawan's weight pressed into his side.

Watching her from his peripherals, brow raising as mirth threatened to pull at his face. "Master, you are not dodging the funny Mace Windu accusations after this one. Not for as long as I'm alive." The Keshiri's laughter rang through the hangar- Now, it was Mace's turn to scowl.

[thechromebucket]

Marvelous Mermay: Ocean Fury

Happy Star Wars Day, motherfuckers.

[brutalgamer]

Sideshow reveals a ton of new stuff, from Threezero, Iron Studios, and more

There was lots to like debuting at Sideshow Con this year, including new pieces from G.I. Joe, Court of the Dead, Star Wars, and more.

[jiff01]

Comics

[reedsues]

jedi june 2024 — 30 instances of jedi bonding day 26: mace windu & yoda

star wars episode i: the phantom menace

[gffa]

Marvel Comics has revealed Star Wars: Jedi Knights is a new series launching in March 2025. Written by marc Guggenheim with art by Madibek Musabekov, the ongoing series takes place before The Phantom Menace featuring Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, Count Dooku, Mace Windu, and many more.

“Marc and Madibek deliver a blockbuster first issue with a cliffhanger that kicks off one action-packed issue after another featuring your favorite Jedi,” Editor Mark Paniccia teased. “You’ve literally never seen so much lightsaber action in a comic book!”

So what’s Star Wars: Jedi Knights about?

In addition to featuring iconic and fan-favorite Jedi,  the series will introduce all new Jedi characters that served the Republic during this pivotal era. Each issue will spotlight a different Jedi duo on a different mission throughout the galaxy, but an overarching threat binds them together. Who is the mysterious new villain targeting Qui-Gon Jinn for death and how will it force the Jedi Order to evolve for a new age?

New York, NY— October 18, 2024 — Just now at the Lucasfilm Publishing: Star Wars: Stories From a Galaxy Far, Far Away Panel at New York Comic Con, fans learned about an all-new ongoing comic series coming this March: STAR WARS: JEDI KNIGHTS!

Marvel’s first series focusing on the guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy will be brought to you by Emmy Award-winning screenwriter and acclaimed Star Wars comics writer Marc Guggenheim (Star Wars: Han Solo & Chewbacca, Star Wars: Yoda) and drawn by rising star artist Madibek Musabekov (Star Wars, X-Men Red).

Taking place before The Phantom Menace, STAR WARS: JEDI KNIGHTS stars the Jedi Order as fans came to know it during the Prequel Trilogy including legendary characters like Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Yoda, Count Dooku, Mace Windu, and many more. In addition to featuring iconic and fan-favorite Jedi,  the series will introduce all new Jedi characters that served the Republic during this pivotal era. Each issue will spotlight a different Jedi duo on a different mission throughout the galaxy, but an overarching threat binds them together. Who is the mysterious new villain targeting Qui-Gon Jinn for death and how will it force the Jedi Order to evolve for a new age?

“Marc and Madibek deliver a blockbuster first issue with a cliffhanger that kicks off one action-packed issue after another featuring your favorite Jedi,” Editor Mark Paniccia teased. “You’ve literally never seen so much lightsaber action in a comic book!”

Check out the main cover by best-selling cover artist Rahzzah along with the first two Lightsaber Foil Variant Covers by Taurin Clarke and preorder STAR WARS: JEDI KNIGHTS #1 at your local comic shop today. For more information, visit Marvel.com.

STAR WARS: JEDI KNIGHTS #1

Written by MARC GUGGENHEIM

Art by MADIBEK MUSABEKOV

Cover by RAHZZAH Lightsaber Foil Variant Cover by TAURIN CLARKE

On Sale March 2025 (via AIPT news) #OH MY GOD LOOK AT THAT COVER???? #IT'S GORGEOUS AND MAYBE WE MIGHT GET ISSUES ON ALL OF THEM??? #IT LOOKS LIKE THE USUAL SUSPECTS FOR SURE BUT ALSO THAT'S AN ADI GALLIA COVER??? #I AM SO READY FOR A SHAAK TI ISSUE INJECT IT RIGHT INTO MY VEINS ALREADY

[gladiatorcunt]

- BEDROCK | XII.

you’re a bottled star, the planets align, you’re just like mars. you shine in the sky

cw: kinktober prompt (sex toys), reader has a pussy, age gap (ur bsf ahsoka’s former master!anakin (40’s) obi wan (50’s)’s padawan!reader in her early 20’s), dub con, implied obikin x reader codependency, dismemberment fantasies, reader is lowkey a stalker freak, no direct touching between anakin and reader ofher than chest fondling, strongly implied voyeurism that’s non consensual but unavoidable and unwanted by both of you, eventual sith!anakin, obi wan haunts the narrative, frequent use of ‘little one’, dead dove do not eat, reader became a padawan in their late teens

please do not repost, translate, or feed this work to ai

kinktober 2024

“You know they’re going to expect their toys to be put to good use.” Master Skywalker shrugs and tiredly grumbles down at you.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, recuperating from the first day of your undercover mission. Your own Master Obi-Wan Kenobi was on one of his infamous negotiation tours, so to speak, you had never cared for them, you couldn't spin pleasantries like yarn any better than a Rakghoul could dance.

Obi-Wan could only stomach taking you on because you parallel Anakin in so many ways, Anakin could only accept his former master taking another padawan because maybe your added seriousness will ease the aggravation caused by the one before you.

You were just happy to be chosen, as any child-waited-too-long-unwanted-teenager plucked from the tense comfort of their home would be, even if that home is only a basic imitation of a shelter.

“I know, Master.” These blasted things, growing up the other padawans would giggle with you over these provocative missions, usually a padawan donning the skin of a schutta on the end of a leash held by their Masters. “Do they have to be so… unique?”

It was as nice as Obi-Wan would’ve wanted you to be, even in these circumstances.

Would he take on Master Skywalker’s role with as much confidence and clarity as the true born son of the Force? Rumors of both the men’s appeal and promiscuity do not guarantee a willingness to rut into a padawan, a dance of demons spoken of in the archives, a beast in the vein of and important to some future single world than your own.

“Unique? How so? I know you’re not like some padawans and keep to yourself, little one, but Jedi your age talk. I’m not naive, neither is Obi-Wan.”

Master Skywalker might as well have carved the kyber crystal of his saber into your face, the flame that crackles under the surface of your skin bears his scent, stormy as his heavy gaze often is.

“Apologies, Master, i never meant to-”

“Shush.” He chuckles, “You can call me Anakin, I hope you’re aware of that. Mace Windu is not going to barge in here and strike you down for being informal. It’s just us, little one. I’m not even your real master, just doing pet sitting for an old friend.”

You blink, lava swirling in your gut at the implication of being a pet before a person. “Anakin.” Your mouth twists around the unused syllables, never having referred to a master by their first name in your entire life. “But the mission, we’re supposed to um…… you said they’d notice if we didn’t do……. anything.”

Another chuckle, another curl tucked behind his ear. “I shouldn’t have to remind you that we came to this planet as a wealthy ship salesman and his controversially younger companion. This place is too seedy to not have eyes and ears everywhere, they’d take it as an insult if we declined to use their… gifts. The success of this mission would mean another smuggler and secret trader being taken down, Obi-Wan and I both think you’re ready for riskier missions like this one. You’ll do fine, little one.”

“I’m trying to release my fear and anger into the force, Master- Anakin. I thank you and Master for seeing this in me but I've never done anything like this before. Are people really going to hear us… have sex?”

“That’s why we’re speaking so softly, padawan, it’s not the noises they’re looking to witness, but you can never be too careful.” Anakin smiles, patting your cheek firmly. “And we don’t necessarily have to do anything like that, just use the toys and leave them on the bed for servants to find, messy and thoroughly used. The nobleman will be pleased, if the information painting him as a pervert is accurate.”

Obi-Wan wouldn’t have spoken to you quite so crassly, but he does like to tease you that the sand scratching Anakin’s tongue never goes away, there’s always another grain when you think it’s spotless and clean. Like the temple or one of the many mighty metal spires, the sterile trees of Coruscant.

You nod, nevertheless. “There’s no use putting it off. The schedule we studied says the workers will stop by first thing in the morning.” Your nerves are obvious, picking your nails, biting your lip, adjusting the folds of your skimpy outfit to conceal skin it will never stretch far enough to cover.

Anakin’s eyes soften, the wrinkles in his outer eye corners deepen. “I’m only sorry I won’t be the only one to hear you cum for the first time, but they’ll never touch you, and they won’t get to know what you sound like doing everything. Trust me, little one, you’re in the safest place you could be right now, my general vicinity.”

It’s not as funny, or as hot, as you’d expect it to be. As shy as you are, you’re constantly surprised by how quick you are to embrace arousal in the urge to renounce shame. If your blood temperature rises to a boiling point, the big ball of anxious knots in your knot could be singed through until it falls apart.

You do not feel any great embarrassment of the simple truth that you have a crush on Anakin Skywalker, many do, you’d be at the tail end of a long line of various species of various ages and with various expectations of what they want their bodies to go through.

It’s silly to be possessive of a man you only share a master with, who stops by to chat when he’s not tinkering away at something or doing some death defying stunt on a mission that’s going to drive the council to insanity one of these days.

You are jealous of Ahsoka Tano however, your closest friend, even after she’s transferred to another Master, the result of some great big falling out.

It is far better that you were not assigned to be his padawan, the Force would have bled with your desire and dissipated entirely to get away from it.

Master Skywalker picks up one of the toys lying there on the bed in between you, a realistic tongue that disturbs you just a bit more than it arouses you. He chuckles at the apprehension on your face and motions for you to get comfortable. He reaches around you with one arm and bundles you up in his lap, your back to his firm chest.

He shushes your nervousness sounds and attempts to ramble, not fully apologetic as he peels back the layers of your tunic top. Your chest bounces into view, free from the confines of the tight fabric. Anakin gives you absolutely no time to be shy about them, groping one in his free hand. The force beams with his amusement when you gasp, the calluses on his fingers feel like they’re marking the skin of your mound, he kneads and kneads for a moment, perfectly content to let you squirm until you can get used to what else he’ll have to subject you to.

Maybe that’s where the hotness in these missions lies, you both want this on a baseline level but there are things you have to bend your own line in the sand to allow. Pushing your limits under the shyness-inducing gaze of Master Skywalker in these uncomfortably close walls and on a mission where you’re free to be other people might very well be your only chance. You’ve never broken a single rule at the temple, you’re a shining example of what a padawan learner should be. Master Obi-Wan often jokes that he wishes you were around to be his padawan the first time around, but there’s always a note of sadness hanging onto his stilted laughter.

You arch your back against Anakin, bracing your hands behind you and burying them in his hair. He groans as you gently tug the curls, and gives it right back to you by lowering the realistic tongue to your left nipple. You flinch, the surprisingly cold silicone model of a muscle flicks against your perky nub on Anakin’s command, and he’s commanding it to torture you to death. Relentless flicks of the toy against your nipple make you squirm again, wanting so badly to be good but you’d much rather ensure the toy was in constant contact with your chest.

It’s the perfect temperature, you run hot most days, and the brief sensation sends shivers from your head to your toes, just a hint of pleasure since Anakin stopped his own touching, sitting as still as a statue as he works the toy on you. He hooks his chin in your shoulder to gawk, transferring the device from one slick nipple to the other until both are so thoroughly coated that it drips onto your soft tummy.

“See, that feels good right, little one? There’s nothing to worry about, this is all we’ll do until it’s time for bed and then we’ll put these things away.”

You nod, whining like a spoiled noble family member now, pouting when he takes the tongue away from your nipple and throws it haphazardly over his shoulder. You cringe, wondering if the loud clang it yells into the concrete floor’s ears reached those in the shadows, you were trying to ignore them but now that there was a single moment of quiet there lecherous eavesdropping was all you could imagine.

A thick hand clamps around your chin and jerks you in the bearer’s direction, Master Skywalker clicks his tongue against his teeth, “They’re nothing to you, especially not right now. If you’d only let yourself go, they’d fade away entirely in your mind, I was trying to be easy on you but clearly you’re in need of something stronger if your head is still on the surface of this planet.”

Something stronger, being a large vibrator, 15 inches and a swirl of mint green and lavender, in the shape of a tentacle, every suction cup has the ability to well… suck. These are all things Anakin relays to you while rearranging your form to his liking, legs spread wide over his thighs, arms behind your back but not restrained, and after some lifting, your robes in a beige pile by the gaudy bed.

Master Skywalker can be merciful occasionally, he doesn’t force you to make eye contact as he lowers the vibrating toy to the altar between your legs. He also doesn’t comment on the pitiful whimper you let out, the vibrations haven’t even started, but you feel the force explode in pleasant-happy-power-trip blood orange. You drink up the calming waves he sends to you, wrapping them around your naked form like the comfiest and plushest blanket, the waves you offer to him in return are clingy little ripples in a pond. Needy repetition of hints to feelings that cannot leave this room alive.

He gets a glimpse of a fantasy, for a mere second before it vanishes out of view, a tantalizing and fascinating shooting star.

“No we can’t stop, you have to let it out.” You raise your hips up higher, face down ass up, your holes wink at him in intervals, angel wings flapping in the corner of his mind, like all the love he has for you will leak out into his cum and if he can just go that, then everything will be fine.

The vibrator doesn’t start at an easy to handle low frequency, your howling is drowned out by the intense humming of its second highest setting.

Your hips jolt, Anakin works the toy in slow circles over your clit, cooing when you jerk and squirm around. Your already throbbing clit is pulsing so hard it almost feels like a constant pain, but you’re so karkking wet that you push your hips up into his ministrations. You chase after the persistent buzzing with more determination than any of your meditation sessions, suddenly cumming on Master Skywalker’s lap is far more important to you than all the missions in the world. Blurry blobs with their ears to the structure around you shift to crumble beneath your increasingly loud cries.

Your pleasure snowballs, Anakin’s earlier attention to your nipples the mountain out of a molehill and his current fascination with your cunt the crashing wave threatening to envelop you in its fold. Like the ones Master Obi-Wan used to tell you about on Kamino, angry and dark cobalt blue, lapping at the ankles of the once elusive white buildings. It’s easy to split yourself into different pieces, assign each one to a part of nature because the force is telling you that your pleasure is as natural as grief and plant life and twin cotton candy pink to red suns and love and mistakes and giant bone dragons with pearls for landmark hearts.

The steady pulsing on your clit punches the gasps out of you, a steady stream of short-for-breath aimless chatter. You’re soaking Master Skywalker’s lap all the way down to the bed, if you mentioned them he’d probably tell you to leave how you ruined them. The smell and stain would only bring you greater protection from being found out, yet your stomach twists at the thought.

The force blooms violet with your fear, as if you’re deathly afraid of your own orgasm, lazy unenthusiastic rutting into your semi-firm mattress back in the dorm is nothing compared to actually touching yourself with the intent to cum. You just got too scared the first time you tried to slip your fingers in your tight snatch and frustratingly resigned yourself to never understanding what your peers go on and on about. Giggling into their portions of bland oatmeal and exchanging charged glances, hormones are far more powerful when they’re being repressed.

Master Obi-Wan had no trouble modestly applauding your emotional regulation skills, unlike his former padawan you had less trouble settling the wriggling bundle of your feelings in a see through boat and pushing it along the stream of starlight until it gave way and became one with the connecting tissue underneath.

“You’ll lose your voice at this rate, little one.” Anakin huns into your ear, his mech arm holding you so tight to his chest his ribs might crack open and swallow you whole. “You’re a better actress than I thought you’d be, unless all this whining and carrying on is genuine?”

You can’t even get a word out before he presses the vibe closer to your pussy, the swarm of tiny little mouths the orchestra and the largest one at the tip of the tentacle hugging your clit the conductor. Your breath hitches as you tremble and whine, a high pitched thing that pierces the air. Anakin grins, lips split wider than the length of the cruiser the council provided to get her, he moves the toy up and down between your folds. A fake cock warming itself in the snug hold of your pussy, sending little jolts of phantom electricity to fizz and sparkle on your tastebuds through your core up out your mouth.

“I’m- I’m not acting, Master. Kark! You’re- ngh- going to, um, y-you’re going too fast, Master, please.” You beg, throwing your head back on his shoulder and counting the dots that make up the constellations in your visions.

It’s too much pressure, Anakin plays with the silk fabric of your outfit like it’s something for his hands to do, like he’s not keeping a vibrator right on your clit and holding you down so you have no choice but to take it. You can’t help but think of the ways your real master would be different, he’d try his hardest and wait out the time the longest but would that stuffy old man end up performing this same brand of torture?

Not that Master Skywalker is much younger, from your position on his lap the signs are aging are right above your face. The cheek scar you learned months ago he’s had for decades The wrinkles, eyes, mouth, forehead, the permanent halfway tense halfway slack skin from all the stress he endured in the war, the ghosts living in his irises, his weathered hands splayed out burning hot steam to the touch on your belly. Right above your womb, he could just dig in and sink his fingers metal and skin knuckle deep.

“Aren’t you adorable? You’ve been taking it so far, you haven’t fallen yet, little star, I bet you can keep going. Stop rushing this, just relax and feel these hungry mouths coaxing you to splash against them, settle into their demanding chants.” Anakin soothes, unhurriedly dragging his blunt nails over your love handles, “I would say this body is wasted on those arid robes, on the Jedi Order, you’d be such a beautiful dancer like you were after dinner, but Obi-Wan would kill me if he found out.”

The dinner with the nobles, the party afterwards, the target had his lizard tongue hanging from his mouth when he asked you and the other “accessories” to put on a show. The force twirled in displeased crimson skies then.

You don’t insult Master Skywalker’s intelligence out loud, but you both plainly speak frequently to the same word of the day calendar.

You want to give him one of your arms, unholster your lightsaber and sever the flesh from your spirit. He wouldn’t be able to use it and you wouldn’t ask him too, he can just have it, so he can understand how alike you are, to know that you too will always wander around with a missing part of you. But how can it be truly missing if you gave it willingly? Master Obi-Wan can have your lonely other, in a fiery pyrrhic instant you are pure force and limbless.

You’d roll the turquoise pendant of the necklace he’d bring you, a souvenir from a stubborn vendor on an outer rim planet, in the lines on your palm like it’s one of his eyes.

Anakin suffocates the vibe in your pussy and doesn’t let the suction cups breathe until you’ve spontaneously combusted, before you can say knife

“It’s not funny, I really didn’t like it, Master.” You liked it too much, the flickers of yellow embers in his eyes, his grip so tight on your chub that you pictured him with sharp black claws, shacking up with a man you barely know but at the same time are too close to.

You used to fall asleep recounting the details of Anakin’s life and accomplishments, each tidbit represented a sheep for you, the biggest punishment to you back then meant being banned from the archives or blocked from news sites on the holonet.

You studied the man whose shadow you would wear over your robes like a shawl, until you were convinced you could jet set off to Tatooine and be able to point out which patches of sand his feet had tread upon. You just never once stopped to consider that he was doing the same with you, what kind of sun bothers himself with the comings and goings of a dead star so far away from their incinerating orbit.

“I don’t like that you like when i’m scared, it makes me feel… sick.” You could cum so hard you’d fall off the temple roof into Coruscant’s lower levels, be one of the ghosts wandering throughout the dreary gray tunnels but instead be moaning for cock that’d still be alive.

“I’ll hold your hair back and nurse you back to health, I’m in for it if I give old man Obi another padawan death scare.” He wiggles the digits of his mechanical arm sardonically, he knows what you mean but he also knows that you don’t mean it so he gives you the same amount of humor he sensed in your mutterings.

Master Skywalker is appreciated for his ability to be both tremendously serious on the battlefield and lighthearted with his colleagues, Anakin loves to tease shy early 20 somethings who volunteer him to be the replacement caretaker for their own master. He tosses and turns that night, not because of the impending result of the mission, all he’ll say in his husky morning voice is that he had a bad dream. You should make a break for the cruiser after embarrassingly exchanging pleasantries, Master Obi-Wan and the rest of the temple are expecting you home before your scheduled progress testing sparring session.

For now, the vibrator’s highest setting will be the instrument, the conduit to the music your moans create, interwoven with Anakin’s hot musk. Oil and dirty water.

[crisisofinfinitemultiverses]

Star Wars: Mace Windu 4 (2024) by Mateus Manhanini

[jedi-order-apologist]

Nighttime Conversation

Mace is having trouble sleeping after a rough campaign. Written for Fandom Empire Monopoly 2024 - Prompt: "Night" and Jedi June - Prompt: "Advice/Inspiration"

Read on AO3

“Still awake, are you, Master Windu?”

Mace turned his gaze away from the glittering Coruscant skyline (so bright, even at this late hour. So unlike the battlefield encampments, so deeply entrenched in night that a person couldn’t see one part of their body from another, until they were lit in the worst way with enemy fire raining down on them).

“I just came from a planet with a diurnal cycle almost precisely opposite Coruscant,” he answered. “You’ll forgive me if it takes a while to adjust.”

“Hmmph. And then sent out again, you will be, hmm?”

Mace let the silence, and his weariness, answer for him.

“Rest, you need,” Yoda said. “Rest, we all need.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “But as long as the war continues...my men look to me. If I do not inspire them to keep hope in the darkest nights, who will?”

“More than one way to extinguish a candle, there is,” Yoda admonished. “Better to light others than to hold one until it burns away, hmm?”

Mace knew that, but it was sometimes better to hear it from a mentor and friend.

“Come. Tea and company, I offer. Good, these things are, when sleep, I cannot.”

[foreverchangingfandomsao3]

baj’hibir bal kar’taylir darasuum (to learn and to love) (5,136 words) by foreverchangingfandoms Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Obi-Wan Kenobi, CT-7567 | Rex, Yoda (Star Wars), Quinlan Vos, Mace Windu, Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker Additional Tags: Professor Obi-Wan Kenobi, kind of, Student CC-2224 | Cody, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Law School, In the loosest sense it's law school, Graduate Student Obi-Wan Kenobi, He is both and I don't know how to explain it without spoilers, CC-2224 | Cody Loves Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi Drinks Tea, CT-7567 | Rex is So Done, POV CC-2224 | Cody, Mentioned Tholme (Star Wars), Mentioned Luminara Unduli, Mentioned CC-1138 | Bacara, Flirting, Studying, More accurately studying together as a form of flirting, Almost Kiss, CC-2224 | Cody is a Morning Person, Obi-Wan Kenobi is Not a Morning Person, these are important, Not beta'd today Series: Part 7 of Codywan week 2024 Summary:

Cody is a mature student enrolled in university, and he falls head over heels in love with his new tutor.

My fill for Modern AU (Teacher/University/Academia AU) for @codywanweek