#sith I'd like to fuck

[michelle-jacksons-art-blog]

Silf

[vulpesarctica]

A late-entry 2022 update for Sith Obi-Wan! Recklessly provoked by @silmairon who sent me kind words about my art progress on the 2020 version. 💕

[bookatans]

After reading Dooku: Jedi Lost it's so hard not to get stuck on how his closest mentors happened to be on the opposite side of a very complex spectrum and how that has just as much to do with the way Dooku's opinions of both the Jedi and the Republic were formed as much as his years of messaging Jenza.

On one hand, you have Yoda, who we all know. "Wise and inscrutable," as Sifo-Dyas put it. Yoda is the picture of what a Jedi is supposed to aspire to be. He is the be all, end all of Jedi-hood. Under Yoda's teaching, Dooku was placed in a position where he forced himself to be the best — already an issue he faced before becoming a padawan.

On the other, you have Lene Kostana. From the first time meet her in the audiobook, they tell you that Lene Kostana is someone that the Jedi Council scrutinize and don't take seriously. Her interests in Sith history are seen as irrelevant more than they seem dangerous. Everyone is blind to the idea that the Sith could make a return, while she's preparing herself for a potential – and, to her, ineviteable – ressurection of the Sith.

In a perfect world, these two opposing forces would create a balance where Dooku might be able to learn from two teachers whose ideals might clash, but could ultimately be interwoven to form something coherent.

But this isn't a perfect world. From the very beginning, Dooku already has conflicts of interest, and they only add on over time. He's in contact with Jenza – a sister a Jedi is not supposed to have–, he struggles with an attachment to Sifo-Dyas, he has a tendency to let his emotions get the better of him.

Of course, all padawans have struggles that they have to face, but Dooku's are exacerbated by a couple of facts: Yoda is an absent Master when his responsibilities to the Council override his teaching, and Lene – who Dooku already knows is different, who Dooku originally wanted as his Master! – is the one who continues to mentor him when that happens.

Lene Kostana is not a perfect master. Of course, neither is Yoda, but Lene makes her deviation from the typical Jedi known and doesn't shy away from it. She's unapologetic in her search for Sith history, and while Dooku might find that fascinating, we as the readers can see where the faults lay, where that obsession begins to override everything and begin that rift in Dooku's faith and trust in the Jedi.

They suffer a traumatizing experience that unquestionably affects Dooku and makes Sifo-Dyas' visions worse, and what does Lene do? She asks Dooku to keep this a secret from the Council, because the Council already wants her to stop what she's doing. Then, when Sifo's visions do continue to get worse, she asks Dooku to hide it and places in him the fear that the Jedi will do something terrible to Sifo-Dyas, like institutionalize him. Lene tells him over and over again that the Jedi Council is not perfect either– tells him to be weary of them, that they''re afraid.

In contrast, when a situation comes up where the Council do find out about something else that's against the Code within the Jedi, Yoda tells Dooku that they would've helped had they been trusted and known, but Dooku doesn't believe him. He's even shocked and disillusioned by the Jedi taking legal matters into their own hands.

This isn't to say Lene's influence or Yoda's paragon status shaped Dooku into what he became. Everyone had a hand in that, Dooku himself most of all. Circumstances fell into place to create that path. Ultimately, it was Dooku's own hubris that became his downfall.

But, shit, having those two wildly different people to guide him sure as hell didn't make it any better.

[tennessoui]

au where jedi healers take a vow not unlike jedi temple guards, but instead of wearing a mask and becoming anonymous, they give up their sight and wear blindfolds to allow the Force to guide their every action. it’s also supposed to blind them to their patients’ differences, which used to be symbolic but since the war between the jedi and the sith broke out, has become much less so

because jedi healers are supposed to heal regardless of if their patient is a jedi or a sith, when they’re deployed on battlefields after the fighting is over, they use the Force to heal every injured person they come upon.

anakin skywalker, who was chosen from the creche and agreed to follow the Healing path at the age of 9, thinks it’s sort of stupid that they have to wait until after the fighting is over to begin to help because he can feel people dying in the Force, he can feel their pain--

young general kenobi, who remembers his old creche-mate anakin skywalker and how blue his eyes once were, thinks it’s beyond foolhardy that this healer is stealing out across an active battlefield, blindfold over his eyes and bending down to heal karking darth maul and single-handedly diverting all of obi-wan’s attention away from the droids and sith legion because now he has to make sure he’s ok he can’t just leave him to the whims of the Force, he’s unprotected and he’s going to get himself killed----

it’s a headache and a half for everyone involved because general kenobi keeps abandoning his battle strategy and sometimes even position to ensure healer skywalker’s safety and healer skywalker keeps dropping everything and everyone the moment he feels obi-wan kenobi get hurt in the Force to rush to his side, Force Vow of Healing Equality be damned.

but......the Council keeps deploying them to the same battlefield because healer skywalker is never more effective as when he knows he must heal fifty mortal wounds before he can rid general kenobi of a headache, and general kenobi is never as ruthless as when skywalker is on the field close to him, in potential harm’s way

despite how much they insist they hate each other 

[the-force-awakens]

*banging pots and pans together* I FUCKING HATE THE NEW REPUBLIC

[potatoesandsunshine]

the jedi being like noooo we can't assassinate dooku it would be too darksided of us we could never 🥺 i'm going jokermode

[sovamurka]

I constantly have to resist the urge to make bubble comics x star wars au

[fhrlclln]

II. can you try me? | qimir

SUMMARY -> when two paths collide, it becomes one. but your differences make it an obstacle for this path you both now walk with the sith lord.

qimir x fem! reader

part I

GENRE -> angst, fluff & nsfw/smut

WARNINGS -> unprotected p in v, fingering, hair-pulling, slight exhibitionism & slight choking

WC -> 3.39k

a/n: i went on a downward spiral into the sith code & their decrees for this. also, aside from the juicy smut i wrote, i really love how the conflict between qimir and reader transpires here lolzz i fucking hate tumblr so much lol i had to repost this multiple times just for it to appear in the hashtags

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

what was it that made you so special?

the question ripples in the sith's mind, just like how the water ripples in the lagoon as he wraps his arms around your waist. your bare back pressed against his bare chest as he presses wet kisses on your shoulders having the taste of sea salt on his lips. addicting. he thinks, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck as he felt you shiver as he kisses the soft flesh of yours every so lightly. he doesn't want this to end, he thinks of next. the sound of your breathy sigh makes him press his hips against your bottom as he grinds slightly.

a quiet moan escapes your lips.

and that answers the circling question in his mind- for a moment.

"is having a second wash a thing of yours?" you tease him as you press back against his hips as well. a small smile dances across his face as he groans in your neck.

"being extra clean with a woman in my arms? yeah, i'd call it my thing now." he huffs, hands roaming up to your chest as you giggled at the sensation of his moustache tickling your neck. as he was about to have his hands grasp the plump swell of your breasts but you stop him for a moment.

"we should head back." you whisper, turning your head to the side to meet his eyes. he almost pouts at that as you further explained your reasoning. "it's almost getting dark and cold, qimir." you try to hold back a smile when he shakes his head.

"i'll keep you warm." he suggests, tone heavy with a rasp that makes you clench your thighs underneath the pristine water.

"i mean it..." you roll your eyes as you turn around to face him as his hands settle down on your hips as he massages them.

"fine." he gives in despite his refusal but the way your eyes look at him had him already giving in. you kiss him as he kisses you back eagerly. he watches you part away from him and he almost wants to pull you back in but he controls himself with the urge. since when did he felt like this before? the fluttery feeling in his chest and the dizziness of desire? he can't remember. he was once a jedi and the essential aspect of being a jedi was to forgo attachments. feelings of desire were forbidden, along with anger, hate, jealousy, resentment... only to have a calm serene mind, in control with your emotions and not be swayed with the dark side of love.

the thought of the jedi code brings hate within him.

though, long since he abandoned the order and set on his path of freedom. when did he ever had someone like you? and it dawns on him, you are his first. first love? it makes his heart beat loudly upon that realization. he never loved anyone as strong as his love for you. you, the woman from the market with those innocent eyes and the most kindness soul, have swept his heart and mind entirely like the pull of the darkness.

"qimir?" you call out as you dressed in your robes. "you'll get cold there." you say with a worried tone as you tuck your lightsaber to your belt. he looks up, eyes momentarily flicking down to your saber as he heads towards the shore, towards you.

"you have a staring problem." you smile teasingly as you hand him his clothes. qimir chuckles as you adored the way he acts now, just like the moments in olega, in his apothecary.

"i blame you." he says as you roll your eyes again before you shoved his tunic to his chest, earning a teasing smile from him.

hand-in-hand, you both arrive back to his home. osha's head shot up from where she sits and you see her, an emotion crosses her face and you look at qimir. there's an unreadable expression on his face but you still caught on what has been said between them. and you wonder, if he had meant that he'd have you as an equal than his desire to have an acolyte. though, doubt crosses your mind with that- remembering the decree of the siths. chwayatyun, as your master had taught you. and you wondered further how your master had come across the sith's doctrine to bestow this knowledge upon you.

two should only exist- master and apprentice. one to represent the power of the dark side and one to crave for it.

a cycle. a vicious cycle of the greed for power that corrupts. your master had quoted to you in your trainings.

"can... i speak to you?" osha's gaze is trained towards you, a sort of plea you register in her tone. you let go of qimir's hand as he merely stays quiet yet his eyes don't deceive you that his gaze suddenly hardens. you look away from him as you nod at osha.

"of course." you smile at her. you sit next to her as qimir shuffles in the background as he heads somewhere deep in the cave. osha fiddles with her hands nervously. you take it as a sign for you grasp her hands in yours, urging her to remain calm.

"what can i help you with, osha?" you ask with a gentle voice.

"i don't know what i really want to believe anymore." she begins. "he says that my strength in the force is more than what the jedi had taught me. and... i ask you, do you think it's true?" her eyes search for an answer in yours.

"it's true." you nod. "i am no jedi, osha but i was trained in your jedi code in someway. my master taught me there are multiple ways to access the force. the jedi may have taught there is only one for that."

"he said that as well. that there is another way..." her words drift and you know what she's talking about. "i'm not easily corrupted like my sister."

"i know." you say as she sighs. "that path he says of... yes, emotions can be a strong factor. i've experienced it before but i resisted in honing those further."

"how? how did you resist it?"

you stay silent for a moment, that memory of being swayed into corruption has long been in the back of your mind. something that lurks and destroys your head from reminiscing it. your master's face in anguish and betrayal, and you-

"i didn't before." you confessed, a tremble in your voice. osha brows scrunches in confusion. "like i said, i am no jedi. but i taught myself now that power isn't what i seek and greed is a awful thing to have."

"what do you seek now then?"

"nothing." you say, shrugging. "but trinkets, food and love, perhaps." a smile is on osha's face with that and it makes you smile as well.

"how are you with him?" osha suddenly asks, removing her hands from yours. "how can you trust him? you saw him how he killed my friends." you see tears swell in her eyes and the question does seem to make you ponder.

"i think i like to gamble with that. trust is a dangerous game." the answer you give feels like it wasn't enough to explain it but it was there. "and nor should you trust him, osha." you whisper that, feeling like a hypocrite.

"i'm gonna get some dinner." you said quietly, standing up as osha nods. you see her leave from where she sat as you approach the steaming pot that qimir had cooked. osha's questions hangs in your mind as you stare at the steaming stew, a familiar aroma catches your nose. do you really trust him? you pick up the spoon in the spot and scooped a bit of the stew as you took a sip. the taste of it surprises you.

it's your stew he cooked.

the questions disperse immediately in your mind as you sighed. trust is a dangerous game indeed with him.

・゜゜・．

"have you eaten already?" you ask feeling qimir enter the room.

"i did." he answers as he huffs, placing a crate near some junk he has in the corner of the cave. you're sat on his bed, legs crossed and eyes closed as you exhaled slowly. your saber is perfectly levitating in front of you and qimir smirks at the sight.

"meditating? very jedi of you." you feel his presence behind you as he bends down to kiss your neck. you hum, letting him interrupt your meditation.

"i just like meditating. makes my head empty." you answer him as you open your eyes as you catch your saber before it fell on your lap and placed it on the table beside the bed.

"a credit for your thoughts then?" he sits beside you as he grasps your free hand.

"i feel osha's conflict with herself." you begin, intertwining your fingers with his. you look at him now as you ask him. "what do you really want from her?"

qimir's face is emotionless as he raises your hand to his lips. he doesn't answer you, he knows you figured it out what his true intentions are for the girl, and mae before that.

"i think you know." he kisses your knuckles.

"you see a similarity in her like you." you say. "revenge, freedom... power. you saw that in mae, yes but in osha, you feel her desire for it more."

"are you looking to let osha kill her master for that freedom she seeks?" you eye him, remembering sol, he would eventually find where osha and them are. qimir doesn't say anything for a moment, he feels amused, how easy you read him.

"it's up to her." he says. "rage and loss is a powerful emotion."

"if you are so trapped in hatred and revenge, is that really freedom?" he tenses a bit at your words. "i think it's a facade."

"and this means?"

"stop making her see that this is her only way."

"spoken like a true jedi." he mocks you, an anger builds inside him. you don't understand him, you don't understand why. he has to make you understand this somehow.

"don't toy with me now, qimir." you plead with him as you search his emotionless eyes for something. doubt? maybe a hint of guilt? yet you can see that there was none.

"you say these words but i know how you also felt how powerful it is when you accepted it." he had heard your talk with osha. his gaze roams to your features as he takes in the look of guilt in your eyes.

"i chose not to dwell with the dark side as my master had taught me of what becomes of who follow that path. and power? i simply wished to live a free life now, qimir. even in secrecy away from the order, mundane as it is in olega, i am free." you sighed as he puts your hand to cup his cheek as he kisses your palm.

"freedom in secrecy? are you truly free when you hide away in the shadows of your city?" he mirrors your words. "you'll understand why i chose this, love."

"i think i don't want to." you confess, your tone hushed. "i don't wish to part away from you because of this. and you'll kill me if i somehow get in your way in your path." his eyes widen slightly at that and his jaw clenches at how sure your words are. is your trust for him so little?

"i won't." there's the emotion you were looking for in his words and face. the sadness.

"you will." you give him a sad smile.

"you don't trust me?" his heart clenches at his own question as you caress his cheek.

you blink. "i do. dangerously."

"then this path i walk, i walk it with you." he says strongly. "i don't wish to part from you either." he leans forward, pressing his lips to yours softly, to seal that promise in his words. you kiss him back, with much trust in those words. he could still feel you lost in those thoughts as he pulls away for a moment. face inches from yours as his gaze darkens seeing your lips shine.

“trust me more.” he says, almost a plead as he kisses you again, with more heat just like in the lagoon. your hands land on his hard chest as he pushes you back onto the bed as he towers over you. he gets in between your legs, pressing his hips forward as you caress his chest, way up to the soft skin of his that’s peaking out of his cream tunic.

“you’re so beautiful.” he sighs between kisses. dark brown orbs heavy with desire.

“flatterer.” you whisper, your voice also evident with desire for him.

“i speak the truth.” he kisses your chin then lovingly nips that spot on your neck making you let out a blissful sigh of pleasure. he grinds his hips down, clothed cock rubbing against your covered core, breaths mingled and heavy as his hands slowly crept inside your tunic. his touch on your bare skin makes you grip the nape of his neck, the fluttering feeling tickling you as he helps you undress your top then wiggling you out of your bottoms.

the clothes are tossed aside and he does the same with his tunic, granting you a wonderful view of his pale skin and the well-built form of his. he sees your eyes greedily take him in as your hands shot up to ghost your finger along his chest and downwards to the hem of his black bottoms.

he smirks as he also greedily takes in your bared form, soft skin is presented beneath him, your breasts are calling out to him as he finally leans down to take a nipple in his mouth. you let out a gasp, the sensation of his warm lips wrapped around your areola as he sucks. you arch your back as his other hand grasp the other, kneading and squeezing as you rake your hand in his black locks, seeing it cascade his face.

"qimir..." you breathily moan out, trying to be quiet, knowing osha is in the other room. he pushes his hips forward, grinding his hard length down making you jolt your hips up to feel him more. releasing your nipple with a pop, his lips ghost up back your neck again as he nips and sucks, wanting to leave bruised marks across your body. his other hand descends down your stomach then to your inner thighs as he feels his way to the prize down there between your legs.

"all for me?" he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your wetness. you nod dumbly as he lets out an airy sigh when he touches you finally. he's in a trance, lips hovering above your neck, eyes trained down to see what he's doing and to see your pretty cunt react to his fingers as he rubs your clit in circles. he can see you trying to hold mewls and moans, knowing you'd be embarrassed if osha somehow hears what the two of you are doing. maybe that ignites something in him, wanting to show-off how good he makes you feel.

"don't hold back." he ushers, fingers coated in your slick as he rubs even harder and a bit more faster as you gripped his toned biceps. he smirks, watching you fall apart as he suddenly removes his fingers on your clit making you let out a low whine. he sits up momentarily, disappointed a bit that he can't feel your body heat to his but he eases.

he sighs, groaning when he cups himself, feeling his cock twitching underneath his pants as he licks his fingers clean before shoving his pants down. you watch him as he grasp himself, making your core clench at the sight of his cock. you open your legs a bit wider as he leans forward, kissing your heated cheek lovingly as you placed your hands to the back of his head. he feels like in a state of a dreamy feeling, addicted and desperate to feel you wrap around him.

"don't hold back as well." you tease him as he groans when you rub your cunt against his tip. he closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation as he airily chuckles. he aligns himself to your vulva, pushing forward slowly earning a breathy gasp from you. he groans out, feeling you clench around him as he pushes his hips forward, inch by inch. the warmness of your cunt is making him feel dizzy as he props himself on his elbows as you kissed his neck lovingly.

qimir shudders as he's fully inside you.

"you feel so good." he whines, slowly rocking his hips back and forth. your hand caresses the nape of neck as it creeps upward to his hair as you grip it, pulling lightly making him moan out your name. he sets a pace, pounding into you with much desperation, your breasts move with each powerful thrust he does.

your hearts beat, chest to chest, lips to lips, eyes staring back at each other with much silent love there is. he kisses you as he rocks a rhythm of endless pleasure. you kiss him back, tongue dancing with his. you match his pace with a subtle rock in your hips as well. he moans in your mouth as his hand grips your neck, you sigh heavenly, his big hand on your throat. squeezing lightly as he fucks you with more precision.

"qimir, please-" you feel like you're about to explode as his other hand descended down to rub your clit. he feels you clench hard around him as your fingers gripped tight on his hair. he groans, pounding into you, loving the way your face contorts into a face of pleasure. he gives one hard thrust in your warm cunt before your back arch, shuddering as you clamp tight around him. his muscles tense as you greedily take in his sweaty figure. your orgasm washes over you as qimir pounds into you.

"good, good, so good for me-" he rolls his eyes back as he also is at the point of cumming. he trains his eyes down to you, seeing your wet eyes, bruised chest and neck, his hand wrapped around your pretty throat and those moans you let out when he thrusts in faster. an guttural groan he lets out as he empties himself inside you, flooding your cunt with his warm cum.

you let out a breathy sigh, feeling warm underneath him. he pulls out, dropping beside you as you release your hand from his hair. you let him pull you to his chest, a muscled arm wrapped around your back as you drop your head to his chest. your chests are heaving and you can hear the strong beat of his heart and it makes you smile.

"you are my equal." he whispers, kissing the top of your head.

"and i you." you whisper back, those words cementing between both of you as you wondered further but you let yourself close your eyes, enjoying the quiet moment.

the whole room is dark as you sat up on the bed. qimir is fast asleep beside you, still bare but his back is shown in front of you. your eyes wander to the scar of his, your finger ghost above it but you pull away. you kiss his shoulder as he stirs for a moment. you stand up, wrapping yourself around your discarded robe you pick up from the floor as you headed to the other room.

and you watch with heavy eyes, seeing osha putting on the cortosis helmet qimir wore. and that answers the question in your mind of what path might the young girl take. a feeling washes over you and doubt crosses your mind as you look back to see your beloved sith sleeping peacefully. you watch back to osha as you step back, letting yourself accept what lies ahead and it frightens you finally.

but all you know is that qimir will be by your side, always.

writing smut after waking up is smth. XD

[copperbadge]

In researching my new-old vintage watch, I came across a different kind of watch Luch made, the "single hand" watch -- the watch has a redesigned dial and movement and uses only a single hand to indicate the time. I'd like to own one but most of them, including the Luch brand, are kind of pricey, so I hopped onto Amazon to see what other brands I could identify that might make a cheapish one so I could see if I like the style enough to eventually invest in a nice one.

But there's no "term" for it, it's just called a "single hand" or "one hand" watch, and if you search that anywhere (Amazon or otherwise) you get a lot of false positives. But perhaps more importantly, you get a lot of fucking weird watches.

I feel like maybe when more people started carrying phones/wearing health trackers instead of watches, they started getting wilder, because if you're wearing a watch you're already an outlier. Granted, many of these are from the same brand, but the preponderance of them is still pretty impressive.

I especially like that third one, which looks like what would happen if Darth Vader fucked a wristwatch.

[ID: Four watches for sale on Amazon; three are Oulm band and one is Fanmis brand. Left to right, the first one has a red face one large dial, three small dials within it, and two dials on the side; the second one has a large dial and two small dials that protrude from the body of the watch asymmetrically; the third is all black with a red digital display, and the face is diamond shaped and looks a little like some kind of Sith body armor; finally, the watch has one large dial and three small ones, set into a metallic housing, with knobs galore on both sides of it.]

[antianakin]

Saw a post about the Jedi Temple being haunted even after Palpatine made it his palace. And while I don't really like the "all Jedi are Ghosts now" angle, it would be an interesting angle to explore.

Rebels ducking behind a door and hoping the Imperials behind them don't check the door, boots stomp up to it only for their officer to yell at them. Can't they see that door is rusted over!? Nobody has opened it in years! Keep looking! And when the Rebels come out they see the previously untarnished door is covered in rust now. And there in the corner, was rust in the shape of the symbol the Jedi wore during combat. Or Imperial reports disappear only to reappear in the hands on Rebels. Or all the guns mysteriously malfunction after an order is given to slaughter civilians. And everyone that has even the slightest bit of Force Sensitivity is seeing the Ghosts of Jedi that are helping them.

This is pretty similar to the fic Haunt Me, Then from glimmerglanger who sadly deleted their entire account on AO3 a while back. It's definitely a fic that haunted my brain long after I'd read it, though, so the concept can be a really good one when done well.

The idea that the Jedi could all become ghosts sort-of goes against the worldbuilding that does exist for the Force ghosts (if any Jedi ghosts automatically after dying, why wouldn't Anakin know about that? why wouldn't Qui-Gon reach out earlier if he'd been able to do so?), but there's a lot of emotional reasons that the concept tends to hit well, obviously. Especially post Order 66, it really hits on the idea of unfinished business for the Jedi. They can't necessarily find peace and rejoin the Force until the Sith are gone and the galaxy is safe again. And the Jedi are the kind of people who would want to continue to fight to help others as long as they could, even beyond death if that was an option. Seeing them come back to help people who either didn't lift a finger to help or even cheered when the Jedi were killed is a gut-wrenching concept. Seeing them come back to help the people who killed them because they recognize the clones were just as much victims in this as they were and because they loved the clones is gut-wrenching.

It's an idea that's really emotional for a reason, even if it doesn't match with any of the established world-building. But also the ghosts have contradicted their own world-building like 5 or 6 different times already, so fuck it who cares, the Jedi can all become ghosts because the Force is now too dark to accept them all back in and they can't join it until the Sith are gone, why not. The Jedi can all become ghosts because the Force did some kind of shenanigans that caused them all to be ghosts until the Sith were gone as a response to Order 66. The ghosts make so little sense that it's not hard to come up with some kind of excuse as to why all the Jedi becoming ghosts after Order 66 might actually happen in a canon context.

[oh-biwan]

[rattling cage] Do you have any Obikin fics that you've enjoyed? Your beautiful art made me slip right down the ship rabbit hole and now I need recs, any rating/theme.

-blushes, clears throat- Hi!

I like a lot of different flavors but, to keep it simple, I'll try to match my recommendations to the theme I'm cultivating on this blog so far.

First of all, I have to mention skyl_tales, they wrote some of the absolute Obikin classics and I love their work, it's very dear to me. If you haven't read anything from them yet, I strongly recommend taking a look at their works and going for anything that captures your attention!

Alright, now my conscience is clear and we can move on:

Armageddon Game by posthumous_vigor

One of my more recent obsessions. Basically, padawan Obi-Wan gets captured by Sith Anakin and then groomed to the Dark Side. What I enjoy about this one is how, even despite the unfavorable cards that Obi-Wan has been dealt, he cleverly chases down his goals... but not without twisting himself in the pursuit as well. He is an active actor in this play and ultimately it is not Anakin who Obi-Wan plays against. And by recommending this I'm recommending the whole series :).

Untouched by objectlesson

This fic has one the most predatory padawan Anakin I've ever seen. This child is just so deliciously fucked up in the head. I... I think I'll just let the author's summary speak for itself: In his darkest moments, Anakin began to think of it as his right. To control Obi-Wan’s sleeping mind, force it into a box, shut it up so he could take what he deserved. Warm skin, slack face, soft snores. And then—then—more.

pleasure, little treasure by objectlesson

A guilty pleasure of mine. And probably a very hard pill to swallow, so careful there. In this one, Vader goes back in time, kidnaps Jedi initiate Obi-Wan, and makes him his apprentice. Yes, it's very dark, a psychological horror, but this author writes with such skill and poetry that I trusted they could make me enjoy reading stuff I'd normally avoid... And I was right. The beauty in the abominable. That's why I love this author, the things they write are so refreshingly daring and so deeply fucked up on so many levels, but served in a way that makes me swallow it all up without question. (oh, I should probably mention that as of now this fic is unfinished, I seldomly pick up unfinished works, but with this one, I have no regrets :))

hold my heart more gently than you do my throat by tennessoui

This is a role reversal omegaverse AU. Master Skywalker has been captured by the Separatists, and behind the Council's back, his omega Padawan sets out to save the master in distress. It is debatable if the master in question needs the saving -noises of massacre in the background- (he did need the saving, in my opinion :)). What I really love about this fic are the horror vibes of little Padawan getting chased down the hallways of the enemy base full of dead bodies, and an unknown monster breathing down his neck, but the only thing on his mind is how to find his master and rescue him. Also, I enjoyed the final twist and how the story unfolded in the end. Satisfying. If omegaverse is your thing I definitely recommend this one.

game plan by treescape

Out of all the recommendations, I consider this to be the tame one. If all of the above made you hesitant to try, this is the one to go with. The summary: Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It's kind of a thing. I'm recommending this one for the banter. Some of it is just next level. Very amusing to read. Chef's kiss.

[adh-d2]

Lil' Obimaul fic snippet

Two Men and a Baby Zabrak AU

[Part 2 here]

Summary

In which a disastrous attempt at ambush and subterfuge on both sides leaves Obi-Wan and Maul trapped on the ruins of Dathomir. Maul needs Obi-Wan alive for his lightsaber and his intel. Obi-Wan needs Maul alive to teach him what the hell to feed this abandoned baby he's found...

Word count: 570 | WIP | SFW | Dividers by @xurengu0

Maul gives a sidelong glance to the bundle that hasn’t even stirred in Obi-Wan’s arms.

“Perhaps there is a reason it was left for dead. It has no survival instincts to have slept through all that.”

Obi-Wan bristles, torn between a twinge of shame at his own actions and the strangest instinct to defend the child’s honor.

“I told you, he’s hungry. He cries the entire time he’s conscious. I-I’m enlisting a little help from the Force to keep him asleep for now. I don’t want him to suffer unnecessarily.”

“Then you should smother it before it wakes.” Maul doesn’t even break his stride, his eyes still scanning their surroundings like the predator he is. “Even if we find something to feed it, it will hunger again. It will be cold. It will cry for its mother, and she will remain too dead to soothe it.” His voice is low, conversational, as if he were discussing something as mundane as the weather. “To live is to suffer.”

Obi-Wan is silent for a long moment. The wave of contempt he braces himself to feel, then release into the Force, never comes. Instead he simply observes Maul. He watches the way the zabrak’s body moves as if on autopilot; as if hunting for food with nothing but his wits and his bare hands was so mundane to him as to become instinct. His horned head shifts in response to a near-imperceptible sound, and as his eyes catch the light his pupils seem to disappear in a flash of refracted glow. ‘He can see in the dark’ Obi-Wan thinks, a dormant memory of his studies of zabrak physiology returning to him. There was a time, not long after Naboo, when he’d obsessively trawled the archives for any information he could find on Dathomirian zabraks. ‘Well, the adult ones at least’ his mind ruefully supplies, aware of the weight of the infant in his arms. He’d hidden those long nights of research from everyone at the temple, knowing the mind healers wouldn’t approve. Something about unhealthy coping strategies. Even now he couldn’t explain exactly why he did it beyond the fact that he’d needed to know. if he’d just had the information, was there any weakness he could have exploited, anything else he could have done…Obi-Wan wrenches his thoughts away from the past. The man before him looks every bit the nightmare that has haunted Obi-Wan’s dreams for the past decade. For all of the countless hours that Darth Maul had consumed his thoughts in the years since Qui-Gon’s death, for all of the agonizing and analyzing and ruminating, Obi-Wan still finds himself unprepared for the reality that the Sith is walking right beside him.

 ‘But he is,’ the whisper of a thought sounds just like his old master. Obi-Wan takes a steadying breath, relaxes his shoulders, and centers himself on the present. On the living force. For perhaps the first time since their fateful duel all those years ago, Obi-Wan looks at Maul and allows himself to simply be curious.

To live is to suffer, he’d said.

“You’ve fought awfully hard to stay alive, for someone who believes that.”

Maul’s head swivels to face him, the hunt forgotten, and Obi-Wan finds himself pinned by the intensity of his stare. It is impossible to focus on anything but the weight of the Sith’s undivided attention.

Maul opens his mouth to speak-

and the infant begins to wail.

[Link to Part 2]

Yo, I figured I'd put this at the bottom rather than the top, but this is the first piece of fanfic I've posted. Like, ever. Anywhere. I guess I'm a writing blog now? It feels weird to make any kind of fuss about it, but just as fucking weird to post it without context.

Anyway, I'm hoping to keep writing this and turn it into a properly fleshed out AU, but just in case the mice in my brain move on to other things, I wanted to put this snippet out in the universe.

[221bshrlocked]

interesting indeed

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader

Words: 8901

Warnings: Tech wearing jeans. Female Masturbation. Tech watching reader masturbate so throw in a dash of accidental voyeurism. Consensual foreplay. Slightly rough manhandling, just like a little bit. Thigh riding because jeans! Dirty talk...or how I think Tech would sound if he were to talk you through riding him. Fingering. Squirting.

A/N: Not going to lie, this is a surprise even to me. Never thought I'd write for this cute nerd but I can't get over the fact that he's wearing jeans now so here you go. Also, this is totally in reference to this post because I wholeheartedly believe this is going to be a thing...if it isn't already. If Tech's character/vernacular doesn't seem right, do let me know how I can improve. Please and thank you.

No one was commenting on it, not that they should of course. They were all adapting to sudden and quite terrifying changes, and this was not on the list of important things that should be talked about. If none of them discussed the change of color in their armors, which was probably one of the last things still connecting them to Crosshair, this was definitely not going to make it to the evening chat. But it was still strange though, and you weren’t sure how to handle it. 

It occurred to you after several rotations of simply being incapable of thinking of anything else why you were so hung up on it. On him. 

He looked good, really good. You always found him attractive, more so than the others if you were being honest. But now that he was out of the confines of his armor and those rather tight blacks beneath the heavy protective gear, you couldn’t help yourself, groaning and swearing beneath your breath any time he so much as walked past you to fix something or discuss the mission details, again, with Hunter. His form was still hidden from your eyes, with parts of the armor still covering his torso from your hungry gaze, but you could see him clearly now, at least his lower half.

Sith hells, his thighs were more muscular than you thought, and each time he stretched to fix a part of the ship out of reach, or even shifted in his seat, the holsters wrapped tightly around his thighs would tug against the fabric of his jeans and show you just how meaty and thick they are. 

Fuck, the jeans. That’s how you got into this current predicament. The day Tech started wearing those karking jeans was the day you cursed and thanked the maker for allowing such an invention to take place. He was tall, and you were always aware of how much shorter you were than him whenever he stood beside you or leaned down to show you whatever it was he wanted you to see on his holopad. You were so used to the plastoid armor that when you saw him walking out of his private room—eyes staring into the datapad, and hands clicking away as if he wasn’t wearing the most revealing fucking pair of pants to exist—you choked on your breath and had to walk away to avoid suspicion. Gods above, he somehow looked taller in those jeans than in his armor, and the knowledge that his slender form would now be available to your eyes all day every day made you sigh in irritation. It was already so difficult to attend to the tasks him and Echo handed you, and this just made it worse. So much worse. Then there was the matter of Echo and Hunter already teasing you about your little crush that everyone was aware of except him. It was enough as is, so you didn’t need to give them more ammo to use against you whenever he was around, even though he was oblivious to your longing gazes, and their irritating remarks. 

Almost on queue, the man walks past you and leans over the bar to grab a drink for himself. Your eyes roam down his tall, slender yet muscular form, stopping to appreciate how perfectly the jeans fit around his ass. You shake your head at the sight of him. It was so unfair for him to look this delicious in such a simple article of clothing. Did his butt always look so round and plump? Or were the jeans giving him all those “assets”? So far gone in your inappropriate thoughts, you don’t notice Hunter pulling up a seat next to you and leaning a little forward to follow your line of sight until he speaks. 

“Stare any harder and he might actually notice you checking him out this time.”

The rough sound of Hunter’s voice snaps you out of your haze and you flinch rather dramatically when the comment comes off louder than you’d like it to be, spilling half of your drink all over yourself and groaning in irritation when Hunter laughs at your obvious distress. You stand up and swipe across your shirt, only to run right into Tech as soon as you turn around to walk away from Hunter, in turn spilling both of your drinks over Tech’s armor and jeans. He hisses when the cold liquid runs down his clothes and you apologize profusely, grabbing both bottles and setting them down before looking for anything to hand him so he can dry himself.

You see Hunter from your periphery reaching out with something for you to take, and you narrow your eyes at him in warning as you snatch the towel from his hand and immediately pat down the sticky liquid on Tech’s armor. 

“Did you know it takes approximately 12 hours for the smell of spotchka to come off of plastoid? Unfortunately, the same cannot be said regarding the stains, which I believe will take much longer to be removed.” You sigh in relief as soon as Tech does the usual and goes on with whatever knowledge he knows about the predicament at hand. When you glance at Hunter though, you find him smirking at you, and you hate the eyebrow he raises at you as he sips from his drink and watches your flustered reaction.  

“I’m so sorry Tech, I was so distracted and- kriff,” you wipe at the chest armor to the best of your abilities, incapable of looking up at Tech out of fear of his reaction, or worse, your own. He swipes at the datapad several times, and you find it cute that he cares more about the technology on him than his attire, which he clearly stated would take a long time to thoroughly clean. 

“It is in your best interest to constantly be aware of your surroundings, Y/N, regardless of distractions. Having said that, what could possibly be distracting here? Wrecker and Omega are quiet, which is rather alarming now that I think of it. Echo is reading, and Hunter is,” he stops checking the holopad and looks up at Hunter, roaming his eyes across his brother’s presence before returning his attention to the task at hand again, “well, he’s doing nothing.”

“I- I was just thinking that…umm,” you trip over your words, unsure of how you were supposed to respond. When he doesn’t bother to ask you to finish your response, you shake your head and continue wiping his armor. 

“Funny you should mention your armor, Tech. She was just thinking about it.” Hunter says from behind you, making you turn around quickly and pout at him. He chuckles at your response, again, shrugging his shoulders at you when you mouth a few swears at him as you fiddle with the towel in your hand. 

“Whyever would you be thinking of my armor?” The question catches you off guard, and you look at Tech with wide eyes, parting your lips to try and offer him some reply that would get him to ignore you again. Before you do, however, Hunter beats you to it and provides another, equally-irritating, suggestion towards Tech, one that instantly sends your heart rate through the roof and makes you wish you were in the comfort of your bed. 

“Perhaps the lack thereof?” This time, you don’t bother looking at Hunter, knowing that he would only make things worse if you begged him to shut up again.

“We are not currently on a mission; naturally, there is no purpose for the remainder of the armor. However, now that we are no longer required to wear it all, I find myself more aware of the constraints it offered than before.” Tech gestures with his hand as he looks down at his form and presumably thinks of the several parts he was not currently wearing. You, on the other hand, can’t focus on anything, choosing to ignore everything he said except the word ‘constraints.’ 

“C-constraints?” You didn’t need to think of any type of constraints with relation to Tech, you really didn’t. But your mind decides to go off the rails, as it normally does whenever Tech is involved, and think of every naughty action the man can do to your body if he were to put you in constraints. Kriff, you would truly let him do anything he wanted with you, and you wouldn’t complain for a moment. You’d thank him for his attention, ask him what else he wanted to inflict upon you, and then beg him to put you out of your misery and do it already. 

Tech’s response doesn’t come immediately, and when you finally make eye contact with him, you find him staring intently at you, eyes shifting from your tense jaws to your tight neck to the rise and fall of your chest as your breathing increases by the second. You turn away from him, fidgeting with the towel for another moment before getting on your knees to get the lower part of the armor on his chest. As you continue to clean the plastoid on his body, you can’t help but let your gaze roam a little lower, but you get back to focusing on the armor again, unsure of what you would do if Tech were to notice you openly ogling his crotch. 

“Yes, there are several aspects of the Republic armor that hindered our movement. For example, it was difficult to remain seated for long periods of time. The plastoid dug into all the muscles of the body, thus making us more fatigued. Shoulder rotation was hindered at times due to the solidity of the back pieces, which, while advantageous during battle, were not useful on planets with more bodies of water, which required us to swim. Undoubtedly, the most unfortunate part of the armor was the codpiece. It made it near impossible for-” you were doing your best to focus on his ramblings, knowing that it would distract you from letting your mind run away with thoughts of touching him under more intimate circumstances. But as soon as he mentioned the codpiece, your brain went haywire and you started rubbing the damp spots on his inner thighs. Perhaps a part of you was aware of what you were doing, but you weren’t in-tune with the little bit of coherence still left in your neurons, already conjuring up the filthiest images involving yourself and the man above you. 

“Kriff,” he swears beneath his breath, instantly looking away from Hunter to your kneeling body as you begin to touch closer to where the blood was rushing down his form. 

“That will not be necessary, Y/N. I can- ahh,” he tries to stop you, he really does, but before he can reach out to your shoulders and grab your attention, your hand ascends up his thighs and makes a rather harsh pass across his crotch and the very visible tent in his jeans. Time stands still as soon as the sound of Tech’s moan hits your ears, and you widen your eyes in horror at what you’ve just done to him, in public, in front of his brother. You look up and notice a blush forming on his cheeks and neck, and you bite into your cheek when you see his hands shaking slightly while his chest expands rapidly with each short, harsh breath he takes. 

“Oh maker, I- I didn’t mean to…I was paying attention and- I have to go.” You throw the towel on the table and run out of Cid’s parlor, ignoring Tech as he calls your name along with what you were sure were Mando’a curses.

“Mesh’la wait!” Tech takes two steps towards you before he notices that you won’t listen to him, and he throws his head down in defeat as he makes his way back to Hunter, who is now joined by Echo. 

“Well that’s new,” Hunter comments, glancing at Echo with a grin on his face as he watches his brother fix his goggles and take the towel you were just holding. 

“It was a slip of the tongue, I-” He knows neither of his brothers will buy the excuse, he doesn’t if he were being honest with himself, but he wants to avoid whatever conversation he was sure was about to commence. 

“Hmm, sure it was. Bet you want to slip that tongue somewhere else.” Echo says, and if it weren’t for the fact that Tech was now thinking of every single twitch of your body language as you cleaned him up, he would have maybe decked him and walked away. But he was in no mood to fight, let alone argue with his brother. 

“Grow up, Echo. This is hardly the time to be crass.” He looks up at the two men in front of him, only to drop the irritated expression when he notices them staring at him with disbelief and annoyance in their eyes. 

“What?” He asks, grabbing the datapad from the table and shoving it back into his belt. 

“Go after her you di’kut.” Echo growls, shaking his head as soon as Tech frowns at him and begins to tell him why he shouldn’t. 

“She is clearly in distress, and I highly doubt the awkwardness of this moment will-”

“For kriff’s sake, Tech. Go. To. Her.” Hunter interrupts him before he can say anything else, and when Tech realizes that neither of them were planning on letting this go any time soon, he looks to the floor and shakes his head, grudgingly listening to them and heading out of the parlor. 

“Fine.” 

He almost reaches for the holopad as he walks to your place, but he stops himself before he turns it on, knowing that there was nothing on there that might help the situation now. He thinks back to what happened moments ago, recalling your reaction to the proximity between the both of you as well as Hunter’s responses. There was something missing in the whole ordeal, and if Tech didn’t know better, he’d think there was a meaning behind everything that was said. It’s moments like these that Tech understood he would have to read in between the lines, a task that he didn’t prefer attempting and was frankly not interested in. If you were dealing with a personal problem, one that you would rather share with Hunter than him, then Tech would respect that. Granted it made him uncomfortable, or perhaps annoyed was the right word here, but he wouldn’t dream of forcing you to tell him. 

But maker if he wasn’t still interested in your behavior. There was a clear shift in your body language when he walked over to your table, little gestures that changed rapidly when you began cleaning his armor and as soon as Hunter shared his thoughts on your reasons behind being distracted. 

Tech halts in his steps when he looks up and sees that he’s reached your place. He stares at the open windows and feels relieved when he sees that the lights are still on. Heading up the stairwell, he thinks over what he should say when you open the door. Should he mention the reason behind you leaving, or should he apologize for becoming erect when you were only trying to help? Should he tell you that he wasn’t bothered by your touch or should he explain why he was aroused to begin with? The last thought makes him stop in his tracks, and he meditates for a long while on why such an option would come forward in his mind to begin with. 

“Hmm, that is rather interesting.” Tech comments out loud before he continues his ascent to your place, and once he reaches the door to your apartment, he knocks on it and waits for you to answer it. When you don’t make an appearance, he knocks once again, his nerves beginning to get to him. As the silence of the night fills the stairwell, Tech decides to push in the combination to your door, only to find that you had left it unlocked upon your arrival. 

That is strange, you were always so careful on the Marauder. Surely you would be as careful when it came to your own home?

He walks in slowly and takes a quick look across the empty space, finding you nowhere in sight. Before he takes another step further, he hears the faint sound of your voice emitting from your room, whimpering and groaning as you cursed beneath your breath. 

“Oh fuck…fuck, ahhh-”

Tech is on high alert instantly, and he takes his blaster out without thinking twice, slowly approaching your room as quietly as he can so he doesn’t alert the intruder clearly present in your bedroom.

“Please…just, I can’t. I- need to…”

He hears you again, but this time, you’re almost sobbing quietly, your voice muffled by an object being held to your mouth. Perhaps the intruder was asking about him and his brothers, or maybe, just maybe, you had managed to get yourself caught up with the wrong people. His heart is beating loudly against his chest, and he fears whatever might happen if he were to barge in there right this moment to try and save you. 

“F-fuck…ah fuck, that’s- hmmm, please…so close.”

Taking the last few steps to your room, Tech inhales deeply, preparing himself for whatever may happen before looking through the slightly ajar door.

And then he stops breathing altogether. 

There was no intruder in your room, there wasn’t anyone as a matter of fact. You were the only one in there, and from the looks of it, you were not struggling at all, but rather, enjoying the privacy of the moment. 

Well, the privacy that was taken away from you now that he stood still at your doorway, incapable of turning away from the beautiful sight of your naked body as you touched yourself, face contorting between pain and pleasure the harder and faster you shoved your small fingers into your-

“Please, Tech…I need you. I need you so badly, just- oh maker, keep going…right there.”

If Tech wasn’t absolutely sure that your eyes were closed, that you were unaware of his presence, he would have thought you were asking him to join you. But you were both too far gone in ecstasy, with your eyes shut tightly the quicker your ministrations became, and completely ignorant to the standing figure at your doorway, with your face shoved into your pillows as you rolled your hips into your hand. 

“That is interesting indeed.”

Never in his life did he ever speak without intending to. Granted, he often spoke when he didn’t have to, definitely when his opinion wasn’t sought out, but he never accidentally blurted out anything. So, when you scream at the top of your lungs and drag the covers across your skin, Tech flinches and nearly slams his head against the bedroom door. 

He quickly pushes the blaster back into the holster on his belt before fixing his goggles, and for the first time since he can remember, he doesn’t know what to do. 

“Tech what- what the fuck are you doing here?” He glances at you briefly and as much as he hates to admit it, the sight of your heaving chest and your damp skin shoots all blood flow in his system downwards. He was sporting a semi when you were wiping him, but after the show he just witnessed, he doesn’t bother looking down to know if his hardness is visible. He knows it is, and when he notices you looking down, he groans to himself and immediately places his hands in front of him to hide his erection.  

“I- Hunter and Echo told me to find you.” An apology would be better, that Tech is sure of, but his mind is suddenly filled with the image of your desperate limbs and shaking muscles as you searched for release. And maker in heaven, he could not get the sight of you out of his mind’s eye, at all. 

“What?” 

“When you left, they suggested I come and find you. Technically, they swore at me and told me to speak with you. So…here I am.” Tech clears his throat, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as you continue to glare at him. 

“Tech, I cannot stress this enough but what the actual fuck?” Your voice is growing in pitch, albeit a little hoarse from how harsh you were breathing moments ago, and Tech forgoes the apology and decides to ask you the obvious question. 

“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Y/N? I will happily look into that for you, or perhaps-”

Well, what he thought was the obvious question in this case. 

“Nothing is wrong with my hearing, genius. My question isn’t so you can repeat to me how your brothers fucking forced you into coming here when you didn’t want to. I’m asking about why you were standing there without announcing yourself…watching me while I- umm,” the rest of the sentence trails off, and Tech tilts his head to the side when your sudden outburst turns into nothing but an embarrassed shift of your fiery gaze away from him and towards your fingers.

You’re angry, that’s obvious enough for Tech to see. But he doesn’t understand what exactly is the source of your anger. Is it your misunderstanding that he didn’t want to seek you out, or that he was probably asking about something irrelevant to the situation at hand, or maybe it was because he was watching you without your consent? He sets all of that aside when you trip over your words and refuse to say what you were clearly doing. 

“Matsturbate?” He finishes the rest of your thought for you, and frowns instantly when you yell at him again. 

“YES!!”

“It is nothing to be ashamed of, Y/N. It is completely natural to seek release when under an extraneous amount of stress. As a matter of fact, the numerous endorphins secreted within the brain and the central nervous system upon climax tend to-”

“Oh my sweet god Tech, please…please, just stop.” The exhausted tone of your voice snaps him out of his haze, and he quiets down when he looks up and sees you rubbing your forehead a little harder than you should. Kriff, he really doesn’t know what to say right now, and as the silence grows between the two of you, it occurs to Tech that maybe he should cross the bridge of awkwardness himself and coax you out of our shell. 

“I am confused. Not a moment ago, you were asking me to “keep going,” but now, you are requesting I stop?” It must be the right thing to say because that seems to get your attention rather quickly. Your eyes shoot to him not a second later, and Tech watches as understanding dawns on you, followed closely by shame, guilt, and embarrassment. Hmm, maybe this was the wrong thing to say then. 

“You…how long have you been standing there?”

“Not too long, but I did hear my name once, hence the outburst that, I presume, led to your discomfort.” You say nothing, and Tech refuses to break eye contact with you, wanting to see how your body and facial expressions react to his words. 

“I thought you had seen me, but your eyes were shut, making you completely oblivious to my presence. I- I was wondering, outloud as you know, why you could possibly call for me while you were masturbating but I-” His inner monologue is on his lips, the only way Tech knows how to process information that is shocking to him. He doesn’t mean to make you wince or shudder the longer he goes on, but as he stares at you now, with your naked thighs clenching tightly, and your lower lip pouting rather attractively to him, it finally hits him. 

There was only one meaning behind your actions. And the shift in your body language earlier in the parlor. And all those times you thought he didn’t hear you groan as he walked by you or whispered something to yourself when he leaned down to fix something. 

Oh.

“You were fantasizing about me.” It’s not a question, more of a comment really, a very crude, straightforward, conclusive comment. The thought of being the one to bring out such a need from you makes him twitch in his pants, and he tilts his head to the side again as he roams his eyes across whatever skin available for him to see, watching as you throw your head down and hide behind your palms. 

“Ugh, fuck me.” You breathe out into the night air, shaking your head at the absurdity of this whole ordeal. 

“I cannot see how that could help the predicament we find ourselves in. But…if you believe that is the solution to our problem, I will oblige, rather enthusiastically as a matter of fact.” The response comes instantly, making you look up with wide eyes at the man currently standing at your door.

“W-what?” You can’t help but ask, wanting to be sure that you heard him right, that this wasn’t another one of your fantasies where he breaks through the door and fucks you into kingdom come. 

“Honestly, Y/N, there must be something wrong with your hearing if-”

“Tech.” You say his name once, urging him to stop for a moment and try to read your reaction to his words. 

“I am not too sure what you are asking about at the moment. Are you asking me to repeat myself or explain my words?” He takes two steps closer to you, hands still covering his crotch from your sight out of fear of you misunderstanding him, or worse, making you feel even more uncomfortable. 

“Explain please.” You request rather shyly, and if Tech wasn’t preoccupied with finding the right words to respond to you, he would comment on how beautiful and erotic the sound of your voice was to him right now.

“You just asked me to “fuck you,” rather vulgar if I may say so myself-”

“It was a form of expression…I- I didn’t ask you to…you know.”

“Semantics…regardless of how you intended those words, I said that I am unsure as to how that could help. However, seeing as you have yet to reach climax, the fault of which is mine, and I am more-than-willing to offer you my aid, I would happily follow your advice and do whatever it is you think would resolve our predicament.” He says matter-of-factly, and with each word he throws at you, you feel yourself growing wetter. His response is too technical to your liking, but something about the way he phrases those words, and how adamant he is on not minding one bit sleeping with you, makes you suddenly experience a similar sense of desperation to what you always feel whenever he’s around. 

“Assuming you forgive my untimely and inappropriate intrusion… and consent, of course.” He adds as he takes another step and looks around the room briefly before returning his focus on you again. 

“And you do?”

“Of course I do.” He furrows his eyebrows at you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he is close to calling you an idiot for asking such a question. It’s only a second later that you begin to understand why he’s behaving this way, or rather, answering you with such a direct response. 

“Why?” You ask, wanting to make sure that he was saying what you think he was. 

“Why do I consent to having sexual intercourse with you?” Tech asks, and you hate his need to repeat whatever question is asked of him, but you quickly remember that this situation was probably new to him, and his mind was returning to what is comfortable for him so he can process it thoroughly, and without misunderstanding. 

“Yes.”

“Is it not obvious?”

“N-no. It isn’t.” You take a deep breath, reminding yourself that it was your return to meet him half-way. 

“I am attracted to you, have been since we first met. You are exceptional in what you do, quite intelligent for a regular human…and y-you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid my eyes upon.” His confession steals your breath away, and you stare at him in disbelief when your brain finally catches up with what he just revealed to you. 

You want to say so much to him. You want to thank the maker for his blunt demeanor because he finally put you out of your misery. You want to jump and scream at finally knowing what he thinks of you. You want to ask him why he’s never made a move on you since he’s shared your level of attraction for perhaps as long as you have. But none of those wants make it to the surface, and you swallow the lump in your throat when you finally decide how you want to break the silence washing over you. 

“Fuck me.”

“Is- is that a form of expression, or are you asking me to have sexual intercourse with you?” You’ve never heard him trip over his words this many times in one conversation before, let alone sound so reluctant when asking such a simple question. The thought of being the one who makes him nervous enough to stumble over such a simple question lights a deep heat in the pit of your stomach, and you don’t think over what you’re about to do, knowing you might backtrack quickly if the reality of your words and body language sets in. 

Taking in a deep breath, you drop the covers from around your body and kick them aside, revealing your nudity to Tech in hopes of driving your message across without yet another misunderstanding. 

“I am asking you to fuck me, Tech. Fuck me until I lose my voice. Fuck me until the only thing I can remember is your name. Fuck me until I can’t feel my legs from how hard you slam your thick cock into me. Fuck me until I feel you for days. Fuck me…until you cum so deep inside me that I feel you leaking out of me…and then fuck me some more.” You slowly get on your knees as you speak, lightly trailing your fingers across your breasts and down to your aching cunt, unable to hold back from smiling when you notice the blush adorning Tech’s cheeks move down to his neck. His hands are shaking lightly, and you crawl to the end of the bed without breaking his gaze, wanting him to see the depth of your hunger for him. 

“I see,” you thought he’d say more, but it makes sense that he isn’t inclined to be more talkative now. You wait for him to take the lead, not wanting him to feel the need to please you at his own expense. When he takes those last few steps towards you, you can’t help but lean forward into his space, wanting to feel overwhelmed by the heat of his body and the natural musk of his scent. Tech finally removes his hands from his crotch, but you don’t look down immediately, afraid he’d be embarrassed by your shamelessness. 

He stretches out his hand but stops midair, and you blink at him expectantly, unsure of why he wasn’t already touching you. 

“Mesh’la, may I touch you?” His voice is softer, and you make a mental note to ask him later what that word meant. You’ve heard it from him when you were making your escape, thinking that he was swearing at you, but as he whispers it to you now, with his eyes silently begging you to allow him to be near you, and his hands fidgeting and itching to extend a little further to trail across your damp skin, you realize it might mean something completely different. 

“Yes, please.”

As soon as he registers your response, he reaches out and cups your neck with one hand, slowly slithering his other arm around your waist and tugging you into his chest until there was no space in between the two of you. The cold of his plastoid makes you shiver, but you can’t find it in yourself to care, sighing his name with a whisper as he extends his fingers and rubs your lower lip with his thumb. 

“You are a marvelous creature,” Tech coos into your ear, teasing you with soft kisses across your heated cheeks, until he reaches the corner of your mouth, “and it would be my absolute pleasure to, as you put it so eloquently, fuck you until you lose your voice.” You nearly throw your head back but Tech grasps your chin and tilts it back to his mouth, looking one last time at the ecstasy etched on your features before sealing the night with the most breathtaking kiss. 

You’ve thought of this moment for so long, wondered how his lips would taste and feel against your own. You imagined him to be reluctant, unsure of what to do due to his lack of experience. But as Tech leans over you, once again reminding you of how much taller he is, you can’t really picture the kiss being different. He’s dominant, more so than you thought he’d be, swiping his fingers against the corner of your mouth until you part your lips for him. But he’s also gentle, a bit playful even, as he slips his tongue inside your mouth and gives you a taste of what you’ve begged him for. 

You melt against him, fisting your hands into the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss and takes control of your body. It must please him, the way you cling onto him for dear life as he continues to steal your breath away, because he groans deeply into the kiss and dips his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck. You can’t help the pornographic moan that fills the space between you as soon as you feel him tug harshly on your hair, and you shut your eyes to enjoy the moment as Tech hums with satisfaction, immediately attacking your neck in hopes of ensuring he has your undivided attention. 

“Ah Tech-” You moan as he spreads his hand across your lower back before digging his fingers into your skin. 

“Tell me mesh’la, what were you thinking of when I rudely interrupted you?” You can hear the smirk in his question, and although you wish you can find the smugness irritating, you shiver at the tone of his voice and the touch of his hands as they grow more desperate and rough by the minute. 

“I w-was thinking of…of you.” You barely manage to say, vaguely feeling one of your arms release from underneath his hold. You stretch your arm down and grasp onto the edge of his jeans, gasping lightly as he rolls his hips against your inner thighs and gives you a taste of what you’ve been craving ever since you laid eyes on him. 

“I am well aware of that, sweet one. I want you to tell me the images your filthy mind conjured up as you touched yourself…with details if you please.” He pronounces the last word with a nip to your shoulder, making you shudder in response and try to grab onto his shoulder again so you don’t fall backwards. 

“I pictured y-you coming after me…after I left the cantina, and- ah ffuck-” You scream out as soon as he lowers his hand and squeezes your ass once before holding onto your waist again.

“Focus.” He warns with a light pull to your hair, and you open your eyes for a moment to look down at him, almost sobbing when you see how far dilated his pupils are as he trails kisses and nips down your chest. Tech narrows his eyes at you, not caring for how overwhelming he might be making you feel as he wraps his lips around one nipple and sucks harshly on it. 

“And pulling me into the alley, and- fuck please, I need to-”

“Do go on.” He orders again, this time with a little less patience in his tone. You want to know what he might do to you if you disobey him, but you figured he’d most likely wish to discuss your limits, and his own, before diving into that sort of relationship. 

“I’m sorry…I- I imagined you slamming me against the wall, and pushing one of your thighs in between my legs, so I can- so you would…” You should have known he would fixate on parts of your body when he recognizes how sensitive you are, but you never imagined him to be so consistent in his handling of you. But here he was, promising you indescribable pleasure while holding off from actually pushing you over the edge. 

“Hmm, I thought I noticed that earlier.” Tech raises his eyes to look at you, waiting until you meet his gaze before licking a stripe across your sternum. You try to grab his hair but he quickly grips your wrist tightly, twisting it slowly so he doesn’t hurt you as he brings it behind your back. He holds you against him then, expertly moving your body as he pleases so he can mark your skin with his lips. 

“Please…I’m so- kriff, I need you. You don’t have to…”

“As gratifying as it is to know you do not require me to prepare you any further, I will have to disappoint.” There’s something about hearing him string a proper coherent sentence that drives you mad with lust, and you hate how easy it is for him to make a complete mess of you. But you say nothing, wanting to give yourself to the sensations he was bringing upon your body. 

Then he lets go of you all of a sudden and steps away, leaving you dazed and confused as to why he stopped touching you and pulled from your body. 

“Tech?”

“You must know by now that I seldom leave a job unfinished.” He claims matter-of-factly, fixing his goggles once before moving around your bed and standing near your pillow. He looks down at the state of your covers, then turns his attention to your damp, heaving chest as you try to gasp for air. Your confusion makes him twitch in his jeans, and he doesn’t bother to hide the shameless way he roams his gaze down your stomach to your wet folds. He stares at your thighs for longer than deemed appropriate, and hisses to himself as he fixes himself through the tight fabric of the jeans. You groan at the sight of him, gulping nervously when he leans down and removes his shoes, setting them aside neatly before doing the same with the heavy bag across his back. 

You watch in silence, not knowing what you should say in return. You don’t really understand what he meant by those words, and before you can ask him why he was stretching this out longer than necessary, he moves across your bed and moves all the pillows aside, perching himself up against the headboard of the bed and stretching his legs out until they almost touch your thighs. 

Tech doesn’t say anything else, and when you continue to remain immobile and silent, he raises a curious eyebrow at you before tapping his thighs twice.

“Well, would you rather stare at me all night long or come and take your pleasure from me?”

His question snaps you back to reality and you look down at his thighs when you notice his fingers tap quickly across his jeans, the mere sight of his impatience forcing you to move towards him. 

“Come on, little one. The night is filled with hidden pleasures, ones desperate to be revealed.” You’re certain you’ve never heard his voice sound so lewd and inviting before, and as you crawl to him again, you can’t help but maintain your gaze on his legs, breath hitching suddenly when he parts his thighs to make space for you in between them. As you settle yourself against him, Tech reaches for your hips and pulls you against his chest. 

“And here I thought the mere sight of me offering you what you desire would make you less shy.” He comments passively as you continue to keep your hands to yourself, something that clearly bothers him because within the blink of an eye, he’s putting your arms on his shoulders before slipping his hands down to take hold of your thighs. You call for him, a sound filled with surprise and desire, ones brought upon by the ease with which he continues to handle you. 

You can’t look at him, afraid of how your body will react if you saw the way he was already staring at you. But as you settle on top of him, straddling his thighs much to his content, you decide to throw all your anxiety out the window. Leaning down, you hover your lips across his own, waiting until he gives you a sign that he wanted to kiss you as well. He smiles at you then, raising your chin up so he can take a better look at you. You blink once as you finally meet his eyes, and you’re amazed by how much brighter the brown around his pupils appears now. You’re not sure if they’ve always been this lovely color or if the circumstances were making them even more beautiful, but you meditate on them briefly as you close the last bit of space between the two of you. 

Unlike the first kiss you shared with Tech, this one is much more controlled, softer and sweeter, allowing you a better chance to commit the feel of his lips to memory. He tilts his head as he deepens the kiss, making you sigh against him and open your mouth so you could swallow his moans in turn. His hands knead your hips, sending a jolt of pleasure down your spine until you begin to move atop him. As one of his arms moves across your back to apply the slightest of pressure against you so you can move even closer to him, you wrap your arms tightly around his neck and break the kiss, gasping for air dramatically as he moves you back and forth against the tent on his jeans. 

“Fuck,” he swears against your neck, lightly nipping the skin of your jugular as grow more needy with your movement, rubbing your clit against the rough fabric of his jeans as you always imagined. 

“You feel so good Tech,” you moan breathlessly at him, chasing your long-abandoned orgasm with a newfound desperation, hoping that he can bring you there faster than your own hands. 

“This will not do,” Tech mutters to himself, once again pushing you around as he pleases until you’re only straddling one of his thighs. He brings you down harder on him, this time raising his thigh a little off the bed so you can ride him as you please. 

“Oh maker, ff-fuck.” You throw your head back, body shaking with excitement as Tech takes over and moves you against him, flexing his thigh muscles to the best of his abilities as he pushes you hard and fast against the damp material of his jeans. He looks down and feels his heart skip a beat when he sees the clear, wet patch adorning his clothes, squeezing your skin even tightly to ensure that this was, in fact, real.

“I- I can understand why you would call me that, but it is only me, sweet one. If you will reach climax whilst using my thighs, I would greatly appreciate it if you were to call for me…as- kriff, as you promised.” Tech is aware of the way he continues to trip over his words, and he looks up in time to see you smirking at him. He knows exactly why you are smiling so teasingly, and he files the information for later, mostly so he could ensure to have a response ready if and when you decide to jokingly provoke him. He can tell there is something on the tip of your tongue, and before you can retort with probably humorous sentiment, he brings you back and forth harshly against his jeans, licking his lips as you offer him the desired response in return. 

“Tech, I’m so close…please baby.” 

He groans then, his breathing growing more erratic as you continue to beg him to ease the fire settling in your stomach. He never thought he’d appreciate a submissive partner, let alone whispered pet names during such a moment, but he hisses as you continue to say those few words, his cock pushing painfully against the fly of his jeans the faster you ride him. 

Tech inhales deeply, the scent of your warm, wet cunt managing to distract him momentarily from the job at hand. He bites into his lower lip to regain some bit of control, and when he thinks he has a good grip on his desires, he wraps one arm around you before using his other hand to pull and push you against him. 

“You are awfully close, my dear. Perhaps if I were to assist,” he doesn’t elaborate any further, and it’s not long before you feel his expert fingers reaching down and slithering their way in between your cunt and his thigh. As soon as you look down at him, Tech is sure he will never get the image of you out of his mind. 

Glazed eyes. Wet lips. Flushed face. 

“You are positively sinful.” He claims as he leans up and takes your lips in a mindblowing kiss, swallowing your moans with ease as he shoves two of his long, thick fingers past your wet folds and curls them inside your walls. Had he given you a chance to break the kiss, you’re sure you would have been screaming his name until all of Ord Mantell who was making you come undone. 

But he doesn’t let go of you once, shoving his tongue into your mouth as he fucks you with his fingers while rubbing your clit with the palm of his hand. Your eyes are shut tightly, fingers digging into his neck as he shows you the stars with his tongue and his hand.

Tech remembers quickly what you promised him moments ago, and he does break the kiss then, wanting to hear you moan his name as he aided you through your orgasm. He tilts his head back to take a better look at you, and as he meets your eyes, he winks once at you before looking down to watch where he was disappearing inside of you. 

“Tech, I’m-” You can’t finish the thought, the feeling of his fingers consistently hitting your tight walls pushing you over the edge and forcing you to melt against him. 

“Come for me, Y/N.” He orders once, and if you had half a functioning brain cell, you would have asked him where he learned how to talk like that. But you don’t care enough, and you scream his name like a prayer as he continues to coax pleasure out of you. There is a vague sound filling the night air as he continues to finger-fuck you into another little high, and when you open your eyes and look at Tech, you find his own curious gaze zeroed in on where he was pleasuring you. 

But just as you follow his line of sight, he begins to slow down to a stop, making you shudder on top of him now that your body was being offered some respite. It’s only when he breaks the silence and fixes his goggles that you realize what you’d just done. 

“Fascinating!” He calls out as if it is the most normal comment to say after making you come the hardest you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. Tech doesn’t care to remove his fingers from you, and without a warning, he curls the tips of his two fingers once, watching with interest as your entire body jolts forward and your voice breaks in a rather pornographic moan. 

“The actions your body performs in response to the stimuli I deliver to it are most impressive, mesh’la.” You shouldn’t be surprised by him, and it’s endearing how careful he becomes as he slips his fingers out of you while soothing your back with the other hand. Once again, you’re about to respond to him with something snarky about where his priorities are, but you don’t find the words when you see him hold his fingers up and stare at them. 

“Interesting, I was well aware of how messy this act could be but I did not expect to be this-”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know I could…I know how much you dislike stains and-”

“You misunderstand me, cyar’ika. I was merely attempting to inform you of how much I thoroughly enjoyed you drenching my hands and my clothes.” Tech interrupts your thoughts from running away from you, and you stare at him with wide eyes as his words finally settle in your mind. You weren’t sure how to deal with this new bit of information, because the last thing you ever expected to hear was Tech telling you that he enjoyed you squirting on him. You can already feel your chest tighten as his confession reignites the need you have for him, which is made even worse not a moment later as he raises his fingers to his face and wraps his lips around them. 

You forget how to breathe as Tech shuts his eyes and hums approvingly at what he’s tasting, the action and sound so lewd that you attempt to clench your thighs above him to relieve the growing pressure. 

“I must admit, the taste of you does not compare to my imagination.” Had you not known the man beneath you for so long, you would have thought he was doing this on purpose. But you knew Tech, and you were sure he was only speaking his inner monologue out loud as he always does. Whatever is next on his lips is interrupted when he looks down and watches as you not-so-subtly try to touch yourself again. 

“You are quite needy, aren’t you?” He takes his fingers out of his mouth and places his hand back on your body, roaming both his palms across your skin so he could feel the effect he was having on you. 

“Tech…I need you.” You beg shamelessly, leaning into him in an attempt to rile him up with another kiss. 

“I believe you sweetheart, but I do owe you an apology.” Tech nudges your nose with his own, smirking to himself when your expression changes into a pout and you furrow your eyebrows at him. He would tell you later that he absolutely adored the look on your face when you were confused, but he had another, more pressing matter at hand, and he did not want to drag this out any longer. 

“You wished to use my thighs to orgasm, but I- well, I became greedy and used my hands instead.” He kisses the corner of your mouth once, barely managing to hold back from shoving you beneath him and taking what he wanted from you in return. 

“Maker, I don’t care Tech…I just want you. I want you to fuck me, with your cock this time. Please, we can…we can do that later.” You reach down to his jeans, cupping him through the wet fabric in an attempt to get him to put you out of your misery and give you what you’ve longed for. But he’s much quicker than you, and he snaps his hand to your wrist immediately, dragging it away from his hard cock so he doesn’t get distracted by your touches. 

“Humor me, mesh’la. I desperately want to know if you can reach climax with such a simple action. You have taken what you wanted, and now I ask for this in return.” You know, as well as him, that he’s only doing this to torture you, that he’s only using his interest in experiments to disguise such his perverse need to make you suffer. 

“But I-” 

“If you do, I promise to give you my cock. Even better, I promise to fill you up all night long, until you are no longer begging for release but respite.” Tech breaks your train of thought, and he smirks down at you when he sees the gears shifting in your mind at his proposition. He didn’t need to read your mind to know that you’ve already agreed to his terms, and with one last quick peck on your lips, he releases your hands and rests his back against the headboard once more. 

You readjust on top of him, placing the palms of your hands on his chest to keep yourself up. 

“There’s a good girl.”

[david-talks-sw]

George Lucas & Karen Traviss' visions of Star Wars are NOT the same...

So whenever I come across this image:

I keep in mind that it's from a book written by Karen Traviss, who is a brilliant author (I adored Legacy of the Force: Bloodlines and Sacrifice) but whose stance on Anakin, Yoda & the Jedi and Star Wars morality is this:

As opposed to George Lucas' stance on Anakin, Yoda & the Jedi and Star Wars' morality, which is this:

In a children's story about Light and Dark, good and evil, selflessness vs selfishness, George Lucas marks the Empire as absolutely evil and the Rebels as absolutely good, in the Original Trilogy.

In the Prequels, the situation is more complex (the Jedi are drafted into a war and forced to do things they know they shouldn't be doing, but have to for the greater good; the Sith bring about order to a corrupt government) but the morality stays the same... the selfish, greedy Sith are absolutely evil and the selfless, compassionate Jedi are absolutely good.

That's George's thesis.

And, as a character, Yoda's function is to deliver that thesis. It's no wonder why Lucas treats Yoda's words as absolutely correct:

Yoda is Lucas' mouthpiece in the Prequels, his self-insert.

George Lucas' narrative frames Yoda as objectively right.

So when Karen Traviss questions the Jedi, particularly Yoda's character and wisdom, she's disagreeing with George Lucas' thesis.

Which is fair. Traviss, is a different person than Lucas, she's an ex-journalist with a more "grey" view of the world and a different philosophy re: fiction aimed at children. "Death of the author" and all that. Again, fair enough.

And if you like Travis' interpretation and philosophy more than George's, if her read resonates with you more... also fair enough.

But the EU is not a reliable source on Lucas' vision.

I've talked about this in MUCH more detail here, but if you do care about George Lucas' vision, then maybe don't draw from the Expanded Universe, which includes content written by authors who expressly disagree with him, like Traviss.

Sounds logical, but for some reason people will read the above-posted Dooku quote and treat it as reflective of Lucas' vision, when it's not the case.

George Lucas' Dooku doesn't have an issue with Yoda or the Jedi (at least not openly, as Darth Tyranus, the Sith Lord he wants them all dead). Dooku's issue is with the Senate and the Republic.

George Lucas specifically added that most Jedi share Dooku's concerns. Before he's revealed to be a mass-murdering, Sith who enslaves neutral systems, the Jedi think he makes a good point and are even reluctant to consider him a murder suspect.

But let's not start saying that Lucas' Prequels are meant to be about "the Jedi's failure" and "Dooku being right that the Jedi are corrupt.

Because that's not the case.

If that's how you see them, great. It's certainly how Traviss saw them. To each their own, authorial intent be damned.

But it's not what they were about, to Lucas. Stating the contrary is... I dunno, lying? Rewriting history?

It's as if I got hired to write a Lord of the Rings prequel seen from Gandalf's POV. And y'know what, maybe I don't like Gandalf. So I write him as a scheming asshole going “myahahahah, fuck hobbits! I’m gonna let them keep the One Ring so a bunch Nazgûl will swoop through the Shire and murder them!” and suddenly, everyone starts writing posts about the notion that “Growing up is realizing that Tolkien always intended for Gandalf to be the secret villain of LOTR!” as if that had always been the case and I didn't just reframe him that way retroactively.

Finally, I'd also encourage you to read @rendar-writes' well-made point here about the fact that, while claiming she "doesn't give the answers", Traviss nonetheless shows a clear anti-Jedi bias.

[amidst-wonderland]

SCOTS / GLASWEGIAN LEXICON: NORMAN CONKS

sometimes i forget i'm not my own little echo chamber and that a lot of people's only experience with scots is an unfortunately translated new years song, scottish twitter memes and one of the many animated characters that never seem to be voiced by actual scots (other than brave, scrooge mcduck, cait sith and soap). so, after a particularly nasty comment on archive this time last year (complaining about too much scots when it's explicitly tagged, for shame!) thought i'd make a wee lexicon of general phrases that appear in my fics but general rule of thumb, scots is phonetic so if it looks a lot like a word in english, chances are it is. however, it is a language and there are rules to its spelling so you can't just throw letters and sounds at a wall and see what sticks.

this isn't an exhaustive list, it's just what i could think of in terms of what i use and write in daily-life.

this can also be used for fanfics generally, so feel free to use if you're writing for a character like soap or drop me a dm, always happy to help! also, after having some ptsd with the "scottish pokémon fem!c" i want to make it abundantly clear we don't say "fook."

ae - of / one of an exmaple is 'ah, never ate two ae anything." meaning, "i never ate two of anything." (and for the scottish folk reading this, et tu, isa. - currently have it on whilst i'm writing this).

aff - off

ah'll / ah'm - i will / i am ('ah' just means 'i')

ain - own, as in 'my own car / hoose / dog'

alba - scotland

an'aw - as well

auld - old, like "auld lang syne"

aw'a an tak yir face fir a shite - go away, you're full of / taking shite

aw'richt - alright

awa' an bile yir heid - fuck off. literally telling them to go and boil their head

blether - chatting

cannae / canny - can't

cauld - cold

chancer - chancing your arm, being sly and trying to get one over on someone / getting a leg up

crabbit - irritable

deid - dead

dae - do

didnae - did not

dug - can mean dug a hole, but also dog.

fae each ae yi's - from each of yous

feart - scared

fur / fir - for

gallus - bold

gardyloo - look out below because i'm flinging my piss and shit out of the window because i've nae indoor plumbing. this is also were the term 'shitfaced' comes from because scots coming back from the pub, drunk wouldn't hear it and end up literally shitfaced.

glesga - glasgow

greetin' - crying

guising - trick or treating

haud - hold

haund / haun - hand

hen - girl (term of endearment)

here, you! - a ruder way of saying "oi", also use "haul, you!" again, to quote one of television's finest, "here you!" / "naw, here you's no in the day, can ah help you?" 'haul' is like stop and is generally a bit more threatening than 'here' (can also use, haud, as in “haud oan a minute.”

how - depending on context this usually means 'why'. so someone might say, "how no?" meaning, "why not?"

jist - just

lit - like

loch - lake

lumber - a hook-up, also a “winch” / “pull”

maw - mum

mebbe - maybe

merrit - married

messages - shopping

mony a mickle maks a muckle - if you look after the pennies, the pounds look after themselves

naw - no

nicht - night

no - again, context depending, no can mean "not". when nora says, "ah'll no dae this with a drink in me." she means, "i'm not having this conversation after having a drink."

oan - on

oot - out

patter - banter

peely-wally - pale, ill

piece - sandwich, so a piece'n'ham

pished - you can literally pish yourself or you're incredibly drunk

pit - put

polis - police

scunnered - nauseated or disgusted due to overindulgence

setterday - saturday

skelping / skelp / skelped - a swift slap

sleekit - sly

sling yer hook - piss off

snout - not sure if this is scottish but chances are if you don’t smoke you won’t know and i don’t think it’s common in england as my little cousin and all her mate who smoke don’t know it but a lot of them roll and don’t smoke straights.

tattie - potato

telt - told

the big hoose - prison, though it's meant to be a specific one in glasgow called barlinnie where basically anyone who's committed a crime in glasgow ends up and it's grim. a lot of glaswegian's grow up with threats of being sent to "the big hoose."

toaty - tiny

wae - with

weans / wains / wee-yins / bairns - children

wee - small

wheesht - shut up

wit - what

wit ye fir? - what are you having

wumman / wummin - woman / women

yir / yer - your / you're

[charmwasjess]

Sometime, I'd love to do another lightsaber theory/analysis post with Vaapad vs. Makashi, i.e., me just wanting to lovingly imagine how a Dooku vs. Mace Windu duel would go.

My first instinct is that this would be a really beautiful and interesting fight to watch, but one that Mace would definitively win, as the strengths of Vaapad would play well against the weaknesses of Makashi, specifically it's inability to take a hammering from a real power form. And Dooku's usual mitigating factors to solve for this weakness - his sheer physical strength and height, his creativity in using his Force talents to interpose lightning or ...pieces of decor to give himself a break - seem like things Mace would be prepared for and adept at countering. Mace's 6'2 (1.92m) height to Dooku's 6'5 (1.96m) means our Count isn't quite enjoying the reach bonus he's used to, and Mace knows him personally, knows his fighting style in a way that his little surprises and redirects aren't as fresh.

In terms of sheer lightsaber ability, we might also consider that Mace is able to get the upper hand on Sidious in a duel, whereas Dooku decidedly treats Sidious like someone who can and has thoroughly whipped his ass, even going as far as to trying to enlist his graduate students to help him take him down. (Implying that he's considered and rejected the prospect of doing it on his own.)

On the other hand, I think it's worth weighing the fact that neither one of them really want to destroy the other, even if they both would definitely do so for the sake of their causes. I think there's a little bit a lingering psychological reluctance there that has Mace going after Jango first, not Dooku, on Geonoisis. For Dooku's part, he doesn't even pull out his lightsaber during their confrontation. A little thing, but little things can determine lightsaber duels. There's also the possibility that Vaapad's ability to uniquely combat and channel/redirect dark side users might be less effective on a Sith like Dooku, who doesn't appear to (typically) get off on the same towering rage-fueled murder frenzy other Sith demonstrate in battle, who has 50 years of Jedi breathing exercises under his crunchy Sith candy coating. If anything, he appears to be genuinely having a great fucking time during most of his duels. (After all, when does he ever get to do anything fun?!) I'm not sure that passes the sniff test though; alas, even I am capable of Dooku apologist tendencies.

Anyway, it's interesting. What do you think?