#swtor-prompts

[jdiknight]

Beloved SWTOR family, if you haven't found a prompt list for your drawtober needs yet, I have just the thing for you!

I know it's called DRAWtober, but feel free to use it as inspiration to WRITE, PAINT, WHATEVER. Any medium, so long you have fun and don't stress yourself out. 💙

psst, star wars fan. you're not home in the old republic? doesn't matter. feel free to join anyway!

[dingoat]

GLOW prompts: Water

So keen to get back into some of these glowy pieces! Noara for @kunoichi-ume has been a bit of time coming but it was so lovely to draw her at peace in her element <3 Thank you for being so enthusiastic about my art for so long!

[ebitenpura]

it's a shame that swtor doesn't have flying mounts because the agent deserves to ride a stolen thranta. as a treat.

[glorfinniell]

Jackie (our illustrious community manager) somehow found a Swtor prompt sheet on Twitter. Gotta do a few—turns out, several prompt lists caught my eye.

Thus—Day 1: Training

[cinlat]

“Help me understand.” The woman’s voice is calm, barely above a whisper but, Caldus feels it in his soul. She emanates peace and serenity, two things he’s been seeking for the better part of three years. Maybe his entire life.

The young Cathar sitting to Caldus’s left fidgets, then seems to remember himself and goes still. He’s a skinny thing, all arms and spindly limbs compared to Caldus’s bulk. There’s a gleam in the boy’s flame colored eyes that warns Caldus that he might not be as young as he looks.

“Let’s start with your name.” Hers is Jedi Master Notiac Carlo. She is soft, colored like a summer sunset of Caldus’s homeworld. Her curls drape gracefully over slim shoulders, but there is an air of power about her. It’s different from the Sith. They are bravado and rage. The Force presence that Caldus senses in Master Carlo is like a warm breeze over a field of flowers. It could gust into violence, but for now, it is calm.

“My name is Caldus,” he begins, staring down at the helmet in his hands. It was all he managed to grab before fleeing Korriban. He couldn’t bear to part with it, nor could he put it on. This helmet, with its artfully swept forward tusks and intimidating crest symbolizes everything he hates; that he’s afraid of. It also symbolizes friendship born in the fires of trauma and inside jokes; a small kindness in a sea of madness. He is proud to own it, but he’s ashamed that he left the giver behind.

Taking a shuddering breath, Caldus forges on. “I am—was—a Sith acolyte awaiting to be chosen by a master. They found me on a docking platform at the edge of the galaxy and stole me for their own. When I met the Jedi captive, my task was to feed him information that would influence the positioning of Republic military forces to open the way for a Sith invasion.”

“You didn’t do that,” Master Carlo says, her head tilted to one side. She wears a mask over her eyes. It’s simple, yet elegant, with pearls and beads accentuating the lines of her face.

Caldus can’t hold her gaze. Though her eyes remain hidden from him, he can feel her attention. Instead, he rubs his thumb over a scratch in his hamlet’s surface. He wonders idly why they let him keep this one, with it’s sharp points and menacing edges, but took the other. “I did. Then, I decided to go with him.”

Events had moved quickly after that. Caldus and the Jedi prisoner snuck onto a transport under the guise of an escort mission. Then found an escape pod, and the Jedi activated a beacon after they had drifted far enough. Master Carlo and her Padawan had answered the call with a contingency of political statesmen and a full platoon of special forces soldiers. Caldus had not resisted when they surrounded him.

“Do you wish to join the Jedi?” She asks.

It’s the question Caldus knew would come, yet he still doesn’t have an answer. He had joined the docking crews who flew merchants to distant colonies to pedal their wares to get away from Orsimer Prime. He can’t crawl back to his tribe as a failure. They would accept him, but Caldus’s pride would forever keep his eyes to the ground. Better to stay out here and find his way. At least with the Jedi, he wouldn’t be forced to murder innocents to cater the favor of madmen.

Caldus tucks the helmet into his lap and looks up at the woman. His half-helm had been confiscated upon his arrest, leaving his unique features exposed. Neither the woman nor the Cathar appeared concerned by the tusks jutting from his lower lip or the claws tipping his fingers. He supposed the Cathar, at least, wasn’t intimidated by those.

“Would I be welcome?” Caldus counters after the silence drags on for too long. “I was trained to be Sith, and I am liable to stand out in your ranks.”

“Would you prefer not to?” Master Carlo holds out one hand to her Padawan, Caldus’s half-helm appearing seemingly from nowhere. His fingers itch to grab it as it hovers into her waiting grasp. A test, most likely.

Clearing his throat, Caldus nods. “I prefer a certain level of anonymity.”

“Then you’ll have it.” The woman holds out the helm.

Caldus hesitates, reaching out with his senses for any sign of a trap. When he finds none, he carefully lifts it from her hand and places it over his head. The familiar brush of fabric against the bridge of his nose eases some of the dread sitting in his chest. With his eyes and large ears hidden, he could pass for any number of large species known to the greater galaxy.

“I will not murder with the Force,” Caldus states, emboldened by the return of his flimsy shield. Before the Sith, he used his abilities to make work easier on the dock. He shifted heavy cargo and performed amusing tricks. The Sith wanted him to turn that gift into a weapon against nulls. There was no honor in it. Caldus would fight with his sword, a blaster, or his fists. But he refuses to wield against another living being ever again.

“We would not presume to infringe on your religious customs.” This from the Padawan who now leaned forward with his forearms braced on his thighs. An intricate pattern of darker lines marks the fur around his eyes, nose, and mouth. Perhaps, after some time around beings less humanoid than the ones in the Sith ranks, Caldus might be comfortable baring his uniqueness to the galaxy too.

Even with most of his face covered, Caldus’s surprise must be evident because Master Carlo chuckles and Caldus is momentarily distracted by the beauty of the sound. There is no malice in it, just the amusement of a woman who has seen far stranger things than him. “Kadu has made a point to research our more obscure neighbors. He wishes to be a healer, and thus he learns everything he can about the races he might encounter. Your kind is known to us, Caldus. You are welcome and safe.”

Caldus nods, his throat suddenly too tight to speak. Only one person has taken the time to learn about him in recent years, and he isn’t sure whether it is because she was working an angle or because they are friends—were friends, he supposes. It is unlikely that she’ll forgive him for abandoning her.

The woman stands from the stool she’d placed in front of Caldus for their conversation and stretches her back. From this angle, he sees the signs of age around her mouth and under her chin. She too is older than she appears. “If you do not wish to be the aggressor,” she begins, tipping the mask in his direction. “How do you feel about being the shield?”

“Like, protecting people?” It’s a stupid question, but Caldus needs a clear answer before he agrees.

Master Carlo nods, a smile pulling at her lips like he will be a particularly fascinating puzzle. It’s Kadu who speaks, though. “Who do you think would be best to teach him?” Those flame bright eyes turn towards Caldus, weighing him with experience that Kadu looks too young to have. “Shielding is tricky, but if you are willing to put in the work—”

“I will,” Master Carlo answers before Kadu finishes his sentence. “You will soon be leaving me to practice with the medical universities. I have the flexibility for a second Padawan if we play our cards right.”

Caldus’s attention bounces back and forth between his new allies while they discuss his future. Hope tugs at his ribs, urging him to take this chance. He’s escaped the Sith, if things turn sour, he can escape the Jedi as well. “I agree,” Caldus blurts into their conversation before he can talk himself out of it. He’s lost out here with nowhere else to go anyway. Maybe this can be the way he atones for the wrongs he’s committed.

The Sith taught him to destroy. Now, Caldus will learn to preserve.

*Caldus is my new guy based on a fanmade race called Orcolans. I didn’t make them, but so much work and love obviously went into their creation that it felt wrong not to use it after I stumbled across them. Obviously, swtor doesn’t have that option, so Caldus got a fancy half-helm so that he could still show off his lovely beard. Eventually, he’ll move to a full helmet to avoid stares and awkward conversations.

**He was 19 years old when he escaped the Sith and fell into the Barsen’thor’s lap quite literally. This probably won’t turn into a full story, but be a fun little world for me to play in. It’s an offshoot of the Sith Fynta AU. So…and AU of an AU?

***This was meant to be a 500 word quick drabble….it grew.

[rum-inspector]

Swtor companion gifts. Sometimes I amuse myself by looking into what type of gifts companions like

Arcann likes commissioned art, a little bit. Is it a personalized holoportrait of himself? Of you, the gifter? Or his favorite rarepair? Pet portrait of his exoboars? We don't know.

The silly part of me wants to think "personal aroma set" is akin to Axe Bodyspray just because the boy looks like someone you know who uses too much of it - but I'm sure it's something more refinedm being ex-prince and all. Is it perfume? Is it scented candles? it could be insence? Whatever it may be, he likes to smell moderately nice.

But he really likes sith opera! Quinn likes it too. They can listen to it together, To the detriment of rest of the alliance, Quinn with his tenor and Arcann's baritone they form a delightful duo on Odessen Talent Nights. Together they can hit some of the notes. Fun to watch, not so much to listen.

[wildcreativemastermind]

Star Wars Fic Prompts: Sith Temples

I've read a fair amount of Star Wars fanfiction, and a decently common thing to see in them is a Sith Temple. They tend to be used as a way to change the characters in some way, sometimes it works and sometimes I'm sitting there thinking "yeah no, the Sith would never make something that would have an effect like that." This post is basically like a mix of prompts and advice for handling Sith Temples in fics.

Note: I primarily focus on Lucas canon, that will effect what I say, though I also play KOTOR1 and 2 as well as SWTOR, and I like some of the stuff they've done with the Sith, so I'll borrow things from them for this too.

We know why the Jedi Temple exists and what it's used for, but think what the Sith would use a temple for. This is where people usually go wrong, they want a particular thing to happen but don't consider if the Sith would fit with what they want.

Perhaps they also use it as a living space and training academy, though it would never be safe. At their safest everyone inside would have to sleep with one eye open.

They would also likely use it to solidify themselves more into the dark side, think meditation to make themselves angrier (so like anti-meditation), murdering loved ones, torturing people, etc. There is no kindness to find among the Sith, and the only thing one will learn is how monstrous people can be.

Of course, a main thing we see Sith do is attempt to corrupt Jedi, turn them to the dark side. So there may be things in the temple to help with that, or to do it when the Sith aren't there (whether the Sith set that up out of laziness or as a lasting legacy is up to you).

Even if the temple is just a ruin in the fic, what it was used for should affect what it is like and what can happen in it.

Fic Prompts

Inside a Sith Temple, a Jedi is teleported to an alternate reality where they are a powerful Sith (whether they're genuinely teleported to another universe or it's a vision or illusion is up to you). They can only get back to reality by falling to dark side or overcoming it, though there would be effort from the Temple to prevent them from doing the latter. For bonus points on this one, any non Jedi with them is teleported as well (part of the corruption could be trying to convince the Jedi to kill, torture, or enslave them).

one or more characters are stranded inside a Sith Temple, people who are in this temple for to long go insane, they have to get out before they lose their minds (or they can be stuck and lose their minds if that's what you want to do)

a force sensitive clone (who doesn't know they're force sensitive) enters a Sith Temple with their Jedi and some other clones. The temple tries to corrupt the Jedi and treats his brothers like objects. What this clone doesn't understand is why the temple tries to corrupt him too (you could also use a Sith holocron for this)

after spending time in a Sith temple, the characters suffer from especially vivid nightmares where they commit heinous acts, how do they deal with this? are they just nightmares or are they real actions?

a character who may have had a romanticised view (basically anything that isn't extremely evil) of the Sith enters a Sith temple, and they are confronted by the reality of what Sith are like

a character enters a seemingly normal building, they don't understand why it's so cold inside despite the heat and the lack of AC units

a Jedi (who is either inside a Sith temple or has recently come out of one) is getting increasingly paranoid and/or distrustful about everyone around them

feel free to add more prompts to this! and feel free to use these in a fic if you want to

[inyri]

Not sure if the prompt list you reblogged was a request for prompts but if yes, consider "❛ let’s just stay here. grow old. ❜ for someone else but Nine and Theorn and/or ❛ i didn’t ask to get made. ❜ for a character of your choice.

(As requested, this is not Nine and Theron.

SWTOR. Nine and Hunter, at the end of it all. TW: violence and its aftermath.)

“That’s probably going to scar.” Hunter looks up at her, shakes her- her, even half-dead there was always one more way to fuck with her, wasn’t there?- head with a crooked half-smile. “They’ll take it away, though, won’t they? They always do.”

Blood streams down her cheek and pools at the corner of her mouth. It’d been a lucky shot, Hunter’s knife swinging wide when she’d blocked a strike that might otherwise have hit a gap between armor plates; it’d been even luckier that it missed her eye. That would have figured. The others always noticed, before, when the cuts reached her face. “I might keep it. I’m tired of having things taken from me.”

“You and me both, Cipher Nine.” She can hear the wheeze buried in Hunter’s laugh. That last hit got her lung after all, then. Good. “You and me both.”

She licks her lips, then spits onto the floor. Their blood’s all over the room already- what’s a little more? 

(Hunter had dreamed about it, she’d said, dreamed about tearing each other apart.   

She’d dreamed of it too: every shot, every slash, every fistfall a box ticked off a list that went all the way back to Nar Shaddaa, to Taris and Hoth and Quesh, every pull at her leash and every notch her collar tightened and every time, every time, every time-

Let it go, the Minister had said. Let it go, Cipher. You’re free now.

She still dreams of Hunter. Perhaps she always will.)

“We could just stay here, you know. You and me. Patch each other up. Keep the codex.” Hunter’s leaning forward now, braced on her hands, lips blueing with every word. “Grow old. They took everything from us. We deserve to win just once, don’t we?”

There’s a kolto syringe in her belt pouch. She could-

Nine’s hand spasms, fingers splayed wide and disobedient as her nerves misfire, and she thinks of Corellia, of the burns and the breaks and the shocks and her screams and of Hunter’s voice in her ear, and she lets her arm drop to her side and does not answer.

“Tell me one thing, then.” Her eyes are the same as she remembers. “Your name. The name your parents called you, the name they took from you- oh, come on-” another cough, this one bloody, veins cording in her neck. “Who’m I going to tell? I just- I just want to know.” 

She sheathes her blade, rubs at her cheek with the back of her hand. Her arm’s bleeding too, and her lower back and her right thigh, but that will keep until they get back to the ship. “My name is Cipher Nine. What’s taken is gone. That girl no longer exists.”

“Me, too,” Hunter whispers. “Me, too. You and me, Cipher. We played the game right.”

“Don’t ever-” with the pistol barrel pressed against her forehead the shot barely echoes, and Hunter’s last gasping breath goes out of her as Nine whispers back- “compare yourself to me.”

[spitzobsessed]

Swtortober day2. Light

Something about miraluka jedi and the symbolism of seeing the Light

[jb-nonsense]

Do you guys think cathar purr?

[queen-scribbles]

For the Intimacy Prompts! 27 for your choice! 😁

Some Ardrali for you <3 [27. Hug from behind] ----

Endrali's resolution to tone down on tracking people through the Force was being severely tested after she checked the third of the usual places with no sign of Arcann. She restrained herself because it wasn't like this was an emergency, it was just weird. Arcann tended to stick to certain areas of the base and she knew them all and--

There. Even with her awareness curtailed close, she could pick up the pulse of his presence in the Force. The next hallway over, one of the smaller observation decks.

What's he doing there....? She shook her head. No point wondering, she could just ask him.

He was alone, standing at the far edge of the deck, leaning against the rail to look over the canopy of trees stretching near-unbroken to the horizons below. "There you are," he said without turning around.

"Me?" Endrali laughed, crossing the deck to hug him. "I've been looking for you."

A rumbling chuckle chased Arcann's shiver at the warmth of her pressed to his back. "And it only took slightly longer than expected for you to find me."

"How long have you been out here?" She could feel the morning chill seeped into his shirt, and it made her grip around his waist tighten, pressing herself closer. "And why?"

"A couple hours." Arcann moved his hand from the rail to cover hers. The skin was so chill Endrali immediately folded his hand between hers to warm it, prompting another chuckle as he answered the second part. "I thought to have a change of scene for meditating."

She gave a faux-offended gasp. "Without me?"

"You were sleeping." He paused. "Or so I assumed. Chances for that are rare; I did not wish to disturb you."

It had been nice to sleep in, even a little bit. She couldn't remember the last time she had the opportunity. "I was, and thank you." She kissed the center off his back, grinned at the shiver that had nothing to do with their contrasting body temperatures. "And this seems to have worked well for you."

There was a sense of peace to him that, while becoming more frequent, was still too often absent in her opinion. She was glad he'd managed to find it today.

"Mm," Arcann hummed. His hand flexed in her grasp as if to curl around the one under it.

"What made you pick here?" Endrali asked idly. "Why the change from our regular spot?"

"Not many come here, it seemed a good choice for solitude. And..." he hesitated, releasing the rail and turning to face her. "I tried the clearing, but it felt... odd without you."

She cocked her head. "Honestly, I'd probably say the same." She giggled. "Funny how fast we adjust to new routines, isn't it? To people being there."

He nodded, studying her face. "Endrali, I..." A muscle in his jaw twitched. "Even with some time, it's still hard to believe it isn't a dream that you... care for me."

"That I love you, you mean?" Endrali grinned at the flush that crept up his neck. She moved her hands to rest on his chest. "It's only been a week, Arcann. Give it more time, it'll sink in." Her fingers curled in his shirt and arched a brow playfully. "And I'm always happy to reassure you, if you need it."

A wry smile curved his lips. "I've no doubt you are," he murmured. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, fingers now warm as he traced her scar. "You are better than I deserve..."

"We'll have to agree to disagree on that," she said softly, and used her grip on his shirt for balance as she pushed up on her toes to kiss him. At least until I talk you around...

Arcann leaned into it, letting her settle back flat-footed. His left hand pressed the small of her back, cool metal sinking through her shirt as they parted with matching gasps.

"Did you have need of me?" he asked, a tremor in the quiet words as they whisked warm across her skin. There was a pulse of satisfaction from him when she didn't find her voice immediately. "You said you were looking for me. Was that for a purpose beyond saying good morning?"

"Oh. Right. Yes." Endrali cleared her throat. You sure don't kiss like someone who thinks he doesn't deserve me. "There's something I need to look into. Should be able to handle it diplomatically, but just in case I can't, I wanted you along for backup."

"Of course," Arcann nodded. He disengaged from their close proximity with plain reluctance. "Allow me to get my things and I shall join you. Is this...?"

"It doesn't seem connected with the other unrest, no." Endrali shook her head. "But you never know."

He inclined his head, catching her hand to kiss the palm before departing.

She let herself follow the sense of him longer than she normally would, enjoying the feel of him... content, if not happy.

She looked forward to the day that wasn't unusual.

[alyssalenko]

Okay, so this is the first time I've decided to actually participate in Kinktober. I borrowed @starsandskies list (found here) and edited some of the Prompts to ones I know I can write well and ones that get me hot. If you want to use it, feel free (you can change whatever you want. These are mere guidelines), and if you want to tag me in the posts, that's okay too my tag is AlyssAlenkoKinktober if you want. 😀

I would love it if some of these were sent to me for (hopefully) little drabbles. The pairings I write are mainly:

sis!Ryder/Harry Carlyle

sis!Ryder/Liam Kosta

sis!Ryder/Reyes Vidal

Femshep/Kaidan Alenko

Femshep/Thane Krios

Femshep/Joker

Kaidan Alenko/Femshep/Joker

Aric Jorgan/F!Trooper

Doc/F!Jedi Knight

Vector Hyllus/F!Imperial Agent

Andronikos Revel/F!Sith Inquisitor

Carth Onasi/F!Revan

Atton Rand/F!Exile

Astarion/Tav

Halsin/Tav

Rolan/Tav

Asra Alnazar/MC

Muriel/MC

Julian Devorak/MC

Alistair/F!HOF

Anders/F!Hawke

Fenris/F!Hawke

Blackwall/F!Inquisitor

Cullen/F!Inquisitor

Solas/F!Inquisitor

And Fane/Sebille

But I'm open to other pairing requests and other kinks not listed! STAY SMUTTY Y'ALL!❤️ 🧡 💛 💚 💙 💜

[dingoat]

GLOW prompts: Jewel

@storyknitter's gorgeous Sanna and Theron, medieval fantasy au edition.

[ebitenpura]

“i hate how you put yourself in situations like these.”

"I hate how you put yourself in situations like these."

Eight crushed his cheek into the palm of his hand further at the sound of Ain'res' breaking voice, making a point not to turn around as the Chiss tended to his wounds.

"...I couldn't leave you alone." He answered, voice just above a whisper.

The other agent's own expression remained sharp with professionalism-- but Eight could sense the rawness of his emotions without even looking at him. For all his purposeful gentleness, Ain'res' frustrations betrayed him, his fingernails digging so tightly into the kolto-soaked rag that it bubbled with foam beneath his cuticles.

The sting of it against his open skin did little to relieve either of them. Still, dutiful as ever, Ain'res scrubbed at his scars. The repetition was a calming tactic, mere routine in a time of constant threat. It didn't stop tears from blooming at the edges of his crimson eyes.

Saying nothing, Eight reached past his shoulder to interlace his bandaged fingers with his.

Ain'res latched onto him. His forehead came to rest between Eight's shoulderblades, just beneath the shock collar that mirrored his own.

Eight pretended not to hear the sobs muffled into his skin, nor feel the wetness that trailed down his back. He held onto him tighter. Yet his gaze remained fixated on the wall in front of him, refusing to bear witness to his suffering.

This was his fault, after all.

It was his decision to follow him right into Rivix's trap. It had been his choice not to sacrifice Ain'res when he was a step away from landing the finishing blow, and it was now his responsibility to be with him beneath a new master's thumb.

Even if it made them both pawns. Even if he hated him for it.

From now on, he would have to be stronger for both of them.

Eye of the Empire AU

[kemendin]

what about 44 for cas and scourge?

44. “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.”

"I'm starting to rethink this," mutters Caspian, peering gingerly over the edge of the rocky precipice where he's huddled, almost on his stomach.

"This was your idea, Jedi," Scourge tells him pointedly. He too is as flattened as much as his bulk and armour will allow, his sharp eyes scanning the canyon below.

"That was before I realised how many of them there'd be." Cas jerks his chin in emphasis, as though his partner can't see the slaver camp before them, where between tents and crates and cages more than a dozen scum of the galaxy can be seen, going about their vile business. Just the sight of it makes his gut burn with anger.

"Would you like to turn around?" asks Scourge lightly, and Cas angles his head to give him a very flat look. The Sith is only goading him; they both know that Cas isn't about to leave anyone in the hands of slavers.

The Jedi huffs. "Very funny," he mutters, returning his attention to their target. He nibbles a little on his lower lip as he considers the narrow pathways of the camp, interrupted by rocky spurs and overhangs.

"Alright," he starts, "if you go from this point, and I circle around to -"

But he's interrupted by abrupt movement beside him, as Scourge levers himself to his knees, already proceeding with his own plan.

"I will clear a path for you, drive the enemy deeper into the canyon, while you free the captives and take them along the beach."

"Wh -" Cas scrabbles onto his knees as well, shuffling back a bit so that he's not such an obvious silhouette for anyone who might happen to glance upward. "Are you crazy? You're not taking on the whole lot of them by yourself -"

"Do you doubt me, Jedi?"

Cas sputters indignantly. "Of course not, I just don't want you to get -"

Further protests are lost in the gritty scrape of armour against rock, as Scourge swings himself over the edge of the precipice, landing catlike on the next ledge several metres below. Face scrunched, Cas crawls forward to cast a half-feigned glare down at his partner.

"If you die in there, I'm going to kill you," he hisses stubbornly, though the effect is spoiled by the worry furrowed between his brows.

Scourge glances up across his shoulder at the Jedi, and grins. It's a terrible, ominous curve of his mouth, teeth bared, heralding doom for anyone within his sights, and for a moment Cas almost pities them, the slavers who have no idea what's about to be unleashed.

"Not today, Caspian," Scourge assures him, his voice already thick with the anticipation of battle. "The only ones dying today - are them."

With that the Sith pivots and leaps ahead, landing just at the edge of the camp, and Cas' sigh of resignation is quickly overrun by shouts of alarm from the slavers, and then frantic blaster fire; but above it all he can hear the distinct sound of Scourge's lightsaber burning through the air, and so he just shakes his head and follows his partner's path down the rocks, hastening towards the nearest cage of slaves waiting to be freed.

[seo-changbinnies]

first day of taking the bar let’s goooo 🫡