#the Jedi all need to chill

[sammythetoaster]

not sure if its better if she's talking to Anakin or Obi-Wan but the mental image I currently have of both of them is highly amusing

Just been thinking about these two lately. You can’t tell me they wouldn’t just *vibe* (while Obi-Wan deals with the mega migraine).

(Kenobi Tano AU)

[r3starttt]

FOOLISH

PAIRING: roommates! abby anderson

SUMMARY: Abby being so in love with her roommate

CW: request. fluff. modern au. just some thoughts.

DON'T BUY TLOU | PALESTINE LINKS DAILY CLICK

TAGLIST | - abby taglist: @imdrowningindispair @rkivedpages @aouiaa @grey-jedi

Abby had always been the type to quietly care for you in ways that went unnoticed by most, but meant the world to you.

As your roommate, and after spending most of her so-called alone time with you, she had grown familiar with your every nuance—the little things that made you, you, and the comfortable silences shared late at night. She knew how you liked your breakfast on busy mornings—simple, rushed—and how you treated yourself on weekends, savoring each bite of a more elaborate spread.

Abby paid attention to you in a way that made you feel seen, even when the world turned a blind eye. What had started as strangers living together had evolved into something deeper, something more meaningful.

It all began one lazy Sunday morning. You wandered into the kitchen, barely awake, with your hair in a messy bun, draped in the baggiest clothes you could find, your bare feet chilled by the cold floor. You had been awake for half an hour but remained in bed, listening to the soft noise of Abby moving around, staring at the ceiling, summoning the energy to start the day.

Abby stood by the stove, and the smell of something warm and familiar filled the air, though your sleepy brain couldn’t quite place it. She didn’t say much, just gave you a quiet smile, murmuring a soft "good morning" as she slid a plate toward you. “Thought you could use a break from cereal,” she teased with that small, endearing grin of hers. The way her eyes lingered on your face as you took the first bite spoke volumes, though no words were needed.

Somewhere along the way, she had started leaving little notes around the apartment, simple reminders to drink water, eat, and take breaks. You’d find an extra blanket on the couch, knowing she had left it there because she’d noticed you often fell asleep during late-night study sessions or naps between tasks. These small, thoughtful gestures made you feel undeniably cherished, even though neither of you had ever voiced it aloud.

One evening, after a long, grueling day of studying, you found yourself curled up on the couch, laptop precariously perched on your knees. Abby walked by, her hair loosely falling from the braid she had tied that morning, her steps light and careful. She glanced at you, noticing how exhaustion clung to you like a second skin.

You were in that foggy, half-asleep state when the soft warmth of a blanket settled over your body, rousing you just enough to fight sleep a little longer. “You’re going to hurt your neck like that,” she murmured, her fingers brushing against your shoulder as she gently took the laptop and set it aside. “Sleep for a bit. I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready.” It wasn’t just the blanket’s warmth that made you feel cared for—it was the way Abby always noticed the little things, like when you needed rest but couldn't allow yourself to stop.

There was a quiet trust between you, a silent understanding that she’d always be there to look out for you.

Abby was the type who’d stay up late helping you with assignments, patiently explaining things in a way that made you marvel at how someone could be so brilliant yet so gentle. Her calm, steady voice had a way of making you feel like the only person in the world when she spoke to you. And when she leaned over your shoulder to clarify something, your heart would race, but neither of you acknowledged the subtle shift in the air—the closeness, the barely restrained tension.

You would both awkwardly adjust your postures, too afraid to cross the line that neither of you were ready to admit existed.

Living with her felt easy. It was as if the two of you had always shared this space, coexisting with quiet mornings and sleepy smiles, silently dancing around the unspoken feelings neither of you could name.

Laundry became a low priority in your shared lives, and you had the habit of letting yours pile up until you could no longer ignore it. One evening, you returned home to find the apartment bathed in the soft, orange glow of the setting sun. Abby was on the couch, pretending to be engrossed in her book, but you could tell she was simply waiting for you.

After a brief exchange of greetings, you retreated to your room, only to find your laundry neatly folded on your bed. You couldn’t help but smile—relief and a tinge of embarrassment washing over you. Later, you approached her, leaning close behind her as she continued to read. “You were busy,” she said, not looking up, “I thought I’d help.”

Living with Abby was like being wrapped in a kind of unspoken devotion, her eyes quietly tracing your every move as if you were the most captivating thing in her world. She was an endearing mix of awkward sweetness, intelligence, and a warmth that made you feel entirely safe and seen.

After particularly long days, you developed a routine of taking short evening walks together. The streets were quiet, the soft glow of the streetlights casting soothing shadows as you walked side by side. Abby didn’t talk much during these walks, but her presence beside you was enough to make you feel grounded, and every now and then, your hands would brush together, the silence stretching out comfortably between you.

She had a gentleness about her that was surprising for someone so strong and capable. When she helped with the mundane things around the apartment, it wasn’t because she had to—it was because she genuinely wanted to.

Every now and then, when she offered to run to the store for basics so you could focus on work, she’d return with your favorite snacks tucked in the grocery bags, quietly placing them in your room or on the kitchen counter. It was her way of caring, her way of staying close while still respecting the space you had both carefully maintained.

“Did you eat yet?” she’d ask, her voice soft but tinged with concern. “Need help with anything?” She never asked for thanks—she just wanted to know that you were okay, that you were taken care of. And when she saw you smile or laugh, her eyes would light up, as if those little moments were everything to her. “What’s so funny, hmm?”

Everyone else could see it—the way Abby’s world seemed to revolve around you. Whether it was her shifting her schedule to make sure you weren’t alone during late-night study sessions or remembering the tiniest details about you, like your favorite tea or how you preferred your eggs. And though neither of you dared cross that invisible line, it was so clear to everyone but you two. Still, you couldn’t help but notice how her voice softened when she spoke to you, or how her hands lingered just a little too long when she handed you a book.

Abby made you feel like you were the center of her universe, even if neither of you had ever said the words aloud.

Eventually, you found comfort in sitting together on the couch, watching movies, her arm resting casually along the back of the cushions, just close enough to make you wonder what it would feel like if she pulled you closer.

Sometimes, you’d share a brief, silent glance—everything unspoken, but there, simmering beneath the surface. And in those quiet moments, it was all too clear. Abby looked at you like nothing else in the world mattered. And maybe, just maybe, you looked at her the same way too.

[valkyrieromanoff]

Bad ideia right?: master!anakin x padawan!reader

synopsis: Sharing a room with your master didn’t seem like a bad idea, right? But when Anakin steps out of the bathroom with nothing but a towel hanging on his hips, things quickly spiral into uncharted territory. As the tension between you thickens and lines between duty and desire blur, you’re left questioning whether this might have been a very bad idea after all.

warning: master x padawan trope (sorry, power imbalance), inexperienced reader, dominant Anakin, handjob, practically only smut, almost no plot.

words: 1.8k

a/n: So... this idea came to my mind randomly with an edit of some character by Hayden Christensen, and, since I'm obsessed with Anakin, obviously, he was the chosen one. Anyway, I hope you like it, and thanks for the comments on James Kelly's oneshot, I'm working on a sequel. Kisses💖

𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏' 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒂 𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒂, 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕?

𝒔𝒆𝒆𝒊𝒏' 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕, 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒊𝒕, 𝒊𝒕'𝒔 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆

Sharing a room with your master hadn't seemed like a bad idea earlier in the night. After all, just hours ago, the two of you were shivering outside the small hotel, waiting for the Council to deliberate on whether it was even possible to send a rescue. The cold had bit through your robes, and with the Council's decision delayed, the promise of warmth had seemed worth the minor inconvenience.

Anakin, somehow, had managed to scrounge up a few credits, not enough for separate quarters but just enough to rent a single room. The thought of sharing didn’t raise any concerns, even though there was only one bed. It wasn’t all that different from the countless nights spent camping during missions, except that Master Kenobi or Rex usually are close by.

But now, sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped only in a loose shirt that barely skimmed your thighs, you were beginning to rethink that assumption. Your Jedi robes were draped neatly over a chair in the corner. You hadn’t packed any extra clothes, not imagining you'd need them, and as you sat there, nerves started to flutter in your chest.

The sound of the bathroom door creaking open pulled you from your thoughts, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Anakin stepped out, a wave of warm, humid air spilling into the room with him. His sandy, wavy hair was damp, droplets of water trailing lazily down his bare chest, across the defined muscles of his abdomen. Your eyes followed one particular droplet as it slid down his abs before disappearing into the white towel wrapped low around his waist.

Suddenly, sharing a room didn’t seem like such a good idea anymore.

You swallowed hard, unable to tear your gaze away. Anakin, always so sure of himself, caught your stare and flashed you a confident grin —one that was all too knowing. There was a flicker of something playful in his eyes, a dangerous spark that sent your pulse racing. He shook his head lightly, sending more water droplets flying, and the gesture felt so casual, so effortless, yet it left you completely unraveled.

"You like what you see?" Anakin’s voice was low, teasing, as he raised a brow in amusement. His tone, laced with flirtation, made your skin heat despite the chill that lingered in the air.

Your mind screamed at you to look away, to remember the boundaries between master and padawan, but your body betrayed you, rooted in place by the tension that now filled the small room.

For a split second, you saw hesitation in his eyes —just a flicker, like maybe even he knew he was crossing a line. But then, as if driven by some reckless need to push further, to test the limits, the towel slipped. It fell silently to the floor, landing in a small patch of undried paint that clung to the fabric.

Your breath hitched. The tension in the air thickened, the room suddenly feeling far too small, too intimate. Anakin stood there, unabashed, watching your reaction with that same infuriatingly smug look. Yet beneath that confidence, you could sense something else simmering —an unspoken desire, a question hanging in the air between you.

This definitely wasn’t a good idea anymore.

Your eyes widened, a sharp jolt of surprise and confusion surging through you. Never—not in your wildest dreams—had you imagined being in a situation like this. Anakin, your master, standing before you so naked in his glory. It felt surreal, as if reality had warped around you in that instant.

Instinctively, your gaze dropped lower before you could stop yourself, a glimpse of his half-hard cock. The realization hit you like a lightning bolt, and the heat flooding your face was immediate. A fiery blush crept up your cheeks, burning hot with a mix of shock and embarrassment.

Your hands flew to your face, palms pressing over your eyes as if you could erase the image, your heart hammering in your chest. "Force, what is happening?" you thought, breath catching in your throat. Your mind was a mess, struggling to reconcile the absurdity of the moment with the unwavering discipline you'd spent years mastering.

Behind your hands, you heard Anakin chuckle softly, his amusement only making the situation feel even more unreal. And still, beneath the embarrassment, there was something else stirring —something dangerous, something you weren’t ready to acknowledge.

“It’s okay, padawan. You can look.” he whispered, his voice soft. He wanted you to know that you could trust him, that you didn't need to feel ashamed or shy, he was your master after all.

You didn’t move. This isn’t right. It’s not the Jedi way, you reminded yourself, mentally reciting the Jedi Code you’d been trained to memorize, the one you’d sworn never to break. The words echoed in your mind like a lifeline, an anchor to the discipline you’d spent years being taught. But as the silence stretched between you, another part of you —one far more rebellious, one undeniably influenced by your master— began to stir. It grew louder, more insistent, gnawing at the edges of your resolve.

Anakin was waiting. You didn’t need to see him to know it. He was smiling—delighting in your hesitation, in the battle waging inside you. You could feel it, the way he reveled in your inner conflict, the tension thickening the air like an invisible thread pulling you toward him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you slowly lowered your hands from your face, fingers trembling just slightly. Your cheeks were still flushed, the heat of embarrassment lingering, but something else was there now too. Something that made your heart race, not out of shame but out of curiosity —of temptation.

Your eyelids fluttered shyly, hesitant, before you finally dared to meet his gaze. The moment your eyes locked with his, the smirk on his face widened ever so slightly, his confidence unshaken, even amused. He knew. He could see the crack in your defenses, the sliver of doubt that had taken root in your mind.

And the worst part? A part of you didn’t want to stop it.

“This is for you,” Anakin said, holding his hardened cock with his flesh hand, his voice low and husky, each word dripping with unspoken desire. There was a tension in his tone, thick and electric, the kind that made the air between you feel charged. His gaze was locked on yours, darkened with the intensity of his emotions, and you could feel the weight of it —how deeply you affected him, how you turned him on.

He wanted you to know. To feel the way the mere sight of your flushed face stirred something primal within him, something dangerous and raw. It was as if a storm had begun to brew in his chest, the pull of his desire rising like a tide, ready to drown both of you. The restraint he usually held was crumbling, like a volcano on the verge of eruption, and the way his breath hitched, just slightly, told you that it was taking everything he had to hold it back.

And yet, he didn’t. His words, his gaze—they were a confession in themselves. This was all for you.

The intensity of Anakin's gaze left you breathless, your body trembling in anticipation. You could feel your own arousal building, the heat between your legs growing more insistent with each passing second.

He waited for your response, his eyes never leaving yours, as if daring you to take what he offered. Your hand trembled slightly as it reached out to meet him, your fingers brushing against his hardened length.

He let out a soft groan, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. The sound felt a shiver down your spine, the power you held over him a heady intoxication. You wrapped your hand around him, feeling the heat radiating from his cock, the veins that pulsed beneath your touch.

He watched you, your hands tentatively exploring him, your eyes wide and curious. He loved the way you looked, the way you felt. He wanted to teach you everything, to show you how to please him, how to make him feel good.

Anakin's fingers intertwined with yours, his hand covering yours as he showed you the rhythm he preferred. "Like this, Padawan," he whispered, his voice a soothing murmur against your ear. "Gentle, but firm."

You followed his lead, your hands moving in unison, your strokes slow and deliberate. Anakin's breath hitched, his eyes fluttering closed as you began to find your rhythm.

"It's different," you admitted shyly, your fingers still slightly clumsy around his hardened cock. You bit your lower lip, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Am I doin’ right?" you asked nervously, your gaze meeting his.

Anakin's lips curved into a smile, the warmth in his eyes unmistakable. "Yes, padawan, you're doing just fine," he reassured you, his voice thick with desire. "Just like that.

You continued to stroke him, your movements more confident now. Anakin's body began to tense, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “faster” he whispered, his voice urgent.

He could feel his orgasm building, could feel his body tensing. Anakin watched you, your eyes wide and trusting, your hands moving faster, your fingers slick with his pre-cum. He loved the way you looked, the way you felt. He loved the way you made him feel.

"Oh, Padawan," he moaned, his voice a low, guttural sound. "I'm going to come."

With a shuddering breath, he did,  his orgasm hitting him like a freight train.  He came in your hand, his seed spilling hot and thick over your fingers, his body shuddering as the waves of pleasure washed over him.

Anakin leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead as his release ebbed away. “Good girl, padawan” he whispered, his breathing gradually returning to normal. “You did so good.” he said, his voice soft.

You stood there, bathed in the lingering warmth of the moment, your eyes flickering to your hands. Your fingers were coated in the thick, milky substance of his release. "It's sticky," you murmured, your voice tinged with innocent curiosity as you stared at your fingers. You shyly pulled them away, a thin line of cum stretching between two delicate fingers.

Anakin watched you, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of mischief. "Let me help you with that," he said, his voice low and husky. He reached out, gently taking your hand in his. "It's only fair that you clean it up, Padawan."

You looked up at him, your eyes wide with surprise. "Clean it?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Anakin nodded, his thumb brushing against your fingers, smearing the cum slightly. "With your mouth," he suggested, his gauze locked onto yours. "It's only fitting, don't you think?"

You hesitated for a moment, your cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and excitement. But the thought of tasting him, of pleasing him in this intimate way, feels a shiver of anticipation down your spine. 

Slowly, you brought your fingers to your mouth, your tongue darting out to lick the sticky substance from your skin. Anakin's breath hitched as he watched you, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You did so good, padawan. I'm so proud of you.” he whispered, his voice soft. 

[stellarbit]

Shadows of the Order

the sad batch x reader

5.5k words themes hurt and comfort

You were separated from the Batch when Order 66 was executed on Kaller. Even as a Jedi dropout you weren't safe. Left behind, you have to recover and restart in the world after the Republic. You'd hoped to never run into Clone Force 99 again, but that hope ran out one day. featuring: a b1 battle droid

You know who deserved better? The clones. You know who else? The B1 battle droids. So I stuck a clanker in here for funsies. Had a ton of fun writing this. Hope y'all enjoy a little anguish. I'll be doin a spicy one next.

You fought alongside Clone Force 99 for a long time before the Battle of Kaller. Before Order 66. After meeting the padawan, Caleb, at the rendezvous point, you’d split off from the group to assist a team of troopers on the mountain while the boys joined General Bilaba. 

The troopers you encountered recognized you from your days with the 501st. Despite your repeated efforts to clarify that you were no longer a Jedi, they seemed unconvinced. Fortunately, after dispatching a group of droids, the remaining Separatist forces were routed towards the main front, allowing your group to do the same.

As you neared the midway point down you noticed the troopers falling back. Sliding to a stop in the snow, you turned back. There were about 10 of them, all standing around one holding a holocomm of a hooded figure. Half of them looked at you in sync, fixing the grip on their guns, the rest followed a heartbeat later. 

The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. Somewhere far down the mountain you heard screaming and blaster fire at the same moment the troopers turned their guns on you. You took off away from the troopers before the first shot rang out. 

“Get the Jedi!” A lone trooper pierced through the chaos.

Quick thinking led you to drop a stun grenade, followed by another, as you sprinted onward. The explosions managed to incapacitate some of the troopers, but not enough. Switching your blaster to stun mode, you sought cover behind a nearby tree, emerging only to neutralize the nearest clones before a shot hit your right shoulder, propelling you into a desperate sprint away from them.

With escape and evasion as your only viable options, the Marauder seemed too distant to reach in time. Instead you aimed for a waterfall you spotted while landing. It was a slim chance, but your best hope for losing the troopers.

As you fled, you deliberately dug your fingers into the wound on your shoulder, leaving a trail of blood in your wake. It was a risky move, but if you had any hope of evading capture, they needed to track you. When you saw the water through the trees you wasted no time in ripping away your chest plate. As soon as you got to the crest of the waterfall you launched your chest plate over the edge.

With one glance over the cliff, you gritted your teeth, pressing into your injured shoulder, crouched, and lowered yourself over the ledge. You grabbed high over the ledge and drug your bloody hand back down over. One more look below to ensure a safe landing spot and let go. Relying on the Force to guide your descent into an alcove leading behind the cascading water. 

Once there, you swiftly shed the remaining pieces of armor, discarding them into the rushing stream as you shifted farther into the veil of the waterfall.

When you finally heard the troopers at the cliff edge, all you could do was listen, wait, and hope they fell for it.

“Looks like she tried to scale down,” one of them remarked, his voice carrying over the sound of rushing water.

“There! In the water, I see her armor!” Another trooper's voice rang out, sending a jolt of panic through you as you desperately sought cover. Their voices dropped too low to hear before you caught the tail end of the conversation.

“Confirmed, Commander Grey. The Jedi has been neutralized. Visual confirmation obtained,” a trooper reported, the cold finality of his words chilling you.

The clone trooper paused, most likely receiving transmission. “Yes sir. Alright boys, we are to rejoin Commander Grey and head out. His forces eliminated Bilaba and Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan. Gather the stunned troops and let’s move out.” That was the last thing you heard before the troopers left. 

Your heart stopped. The blood in your veins froze. You lurched for something - anything - to steady yourself on. One moment everything was normal and the next you were being gunned down by clones you risked everything for. Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.

There wasn’t enough air in the tiny alcove to think, the waterfall was too loud, the water hitting your face too cold. Desperately, you gripped the slippery rocks as your legs gave out.

Nothing made sense. Questions raced through you, each more unsettling than the last. Had all of the clones turned on the Republic? Why were they targeting Jedi specifically? Clones that served with General Bilaba for years suddenly gunned her down. 

Nothing added up. If the orders affected all clones, there was a good possibility that the Bad Batch was also following them. Despite their independent streak, they were still clones, some orders had to be followed. It was a sobering realization - one that left you feeling vulnerable and nauseous. You weren’t going to be safe until they left. If they left.

The thought of aiming a weapon on the members of Clone Force 99 cracked something inside you. Besides, it was foolish to think you had a chance against all of them. With an entire army of reinforcements, attempting to take them on would be nothing short of suicidal.

Survival became your sole focus. There was no time to dwell on what went wrong or how to escape the planet's unforgiving terrain. For now, all you could do was stay hidden, biding your time until the coast was clear.

One by one, you discarded your armor and any identifiable markers into the water. It wasn’t about shedding your identity; it was a practical decision, one you could handle. Not long after, the sound of footsteps echoed from above. You pressed yourself against the rock again, your senses on high alert.

An eternity seemed to passed before the person moved. “The Jedi target was neutralized. If she’s not already dead, she’s as good as it.” It was Crosshair’s voice, cold and detached. 

There was another moment of silence before you heard Tech’s voice, “Affirmative. Blood stains indicate she attempted to scale down the cliff and subsequently fell.” His tone was as clinical as ever but you almost fooled yourself into thinking there was something else to it. “Pieces of her armor are wedged in the rocks below. Crosshair is correct, if she did not perish on impact the likelihood of her survival is negligible. We need to leave.”

They weren't out there to rescue you; they were there to confirm you were dead.

It was all too much to process. Every muscle, every bone, every nerve in your body seemed to fail, leaving you a trembling mess. When the two men finally left, you didn’t know.

“We don’t leave our own behind.” You heard Hunter’s voice and heard his lie.

They left you. You fought for them, yet they hunted you down and abandoned you.

Long after night had fallen, you mustered the strength to climb out of the alcove, your injured shoulder protesting every movement. Descending into the battlefield, you searched for a salvageable ship and supplies. Amidst the wreckage, you stumbled upon the one thing you weren’t looking for.

General Bilaba’s lightsaber. She must’ve lost it in the struggle. Such a valuable thing lost to the snow and wreckage, not even retrieved. Disposable. You held the cold metal in your hand before tucking it away.

You found one ship that might manage to get off the ground. Nearby, you spotted a partially disabled battle droid, still in remarkably good condition despite its current state. It appeared to have been incapacitated by a stun grenade. As you examined it, Tech's lessons on droid maintenance flooded your mind, particularly the techniques for reprogramming them for combat purposes.

Kneeling beside the droid you flipped it onto its back to access programming. You’d pulled it off before, reprogramming battle droids to counter attack. You just never thought you’d need the skills like this.

The process was far from seamless. You electrocuted yourself on the power supply, nearly damaged a circuit board while removing the restraining bolt, and the rewiring process dragged on longer than expected, especially under the cover of darkness.

Eventually, the battle droid sprung to life, clutching its head as it sat up. You lowered yourself onto one knee as the droid adjusted itself. "Where am I?" its questioning began, its metallic voice filled with confusion. "Is the battle over? Did we win?"

Hearing the droid address you instead of immediately engaging in combat felt oddly surreal, but given the day's events, it was perhaps the least strange thing. "What is your primary directive?" you asked, trying to gauge its functionality.

It clunked a hand against its head. "Huh, that's odd. I don't seem to have one."

That was a start. 

You rose to your feet and offered your hand. "In that case, how about we team up and find a way off this rock?"

Its head swiveled from side to side as it processed the proposal. "You mean, I get to choose?"

You let out a small scoff and maintained your outstretched hand. "Your options are coming with me or staying here to rust."

"Fair point," the droid responded, almost cheerfully, as it reached for your hand. "So, what's the plan for getting off this dump?"

You gestured toward the ship you hoped  to salvage. "Can you handle starship repairs?"

“Sure thing, boss. Want me to clean it up?”

You threw it a puzzled look, “Why would I-” You shook your head, “No, we need to repair it enough to get it off this planet.

“Well, that doesn’t make sense.” The B1 unit pointed at the ship. “That ship doesn’t need repairs, we just crashed it.”

Maybe picking a battle droid for an assistant wasn’t the best choice. “Was it your group that crashed it?”

“Yep!” It said too proudly. “Happens all the time. But I told you, this one doesn’t need repairs to fly.” The droid paused for a second, tapping a metal digit to the tip of its face, then added. “Yet.”

That didn’t bode well for survival. You waved for it to follow you, “Let’s see if you’re right.” Over your shoulder you asked. “What can I call you?”

“My identifier is OOM-672.”

Walking amongst dozens of disabled B1 units you mused, “Looks like you’re about to be one of the last OOM models in the galaxy. So why don’t we cut that down to O2?”

“Wow!” The way it vocalized almost added syllables to the word. “Yeah, O2 sounds much better! What do I call you? Master?”

You cringed at the sound of that. “I’m not your master, O2. We’re going to have to settle with being friends or buddies.”

“You got it, Buddy!”

Thankfully, O2 was right. The ship could fly and it had enough fuel to get you far from Kaller. Enough to get you all the way to the Outer Rim if you wanted. It was risky, but following the pattern of the day, it was your only chance at survival. You just didn’t let O2 pilot.

*

After the rise of the Galactic Empire, you and O2 settled on a planet in the Mid Rim. You scavenged and sold enough equipment from Kaller for a comfortable amount of credits to start off with. You pieced together a new identity, often concealing your face beneath a helmet and relying on a voice modulator. Being dead in the eyes of the Empire had its advantages.

The best way to stay hidden, you figured, was to stay in plain sight.

You wormed your way into ownership of a small inn. Although, your background as a Jedi and a soldier left you ill-prepared for running a business, and you struggled to turn a profit.

“O2!” You shouted from the lobby.

The battle droid sauntered in from the dining area. “Yes, Buddy?” The droid’s nickname for you always worked a smile out of you.

You tossed them a rusted-out metal part, which they scrambled to catch, their movements clumsy and uncoordinated. After a few failed attempts, they finally managed to grasp it securely. “The circulator for our boiler is busted. Can you head to the market and fetch a replacement? The parts dealer should have one available.”

“Roger, roger!” O2 chimed enthusiastically, ready to depart.

You yanked them by the shoulder. “O2,” You warned. “Do you remember how to pay?”

They rolled their head in an exaggerated display of weariness. “I know, I know - ‘charge it to the tab.’”

Raising an eyebrow, you waited for more. “And?”

O2 tapped a compartment on their chest, revealing a few credits inside. A result of some previous tinkering done by you. “And I have the extra credits.”

“And what’re they for?” You pressed.

“For ‘just in case.’” They replied

Stepping forward, you pushed the compartment closed. “In case of trouble, O2,” you reminded them firmly. Giving them a light knock with the back of your knuckles, you added, “Give me a call if you find yourself staring down the barrel of a blaster.”

As far as O2 was concerned, they had it easy. You rescued them from decommissioning and in return, all you asked for were simple tasks and the opportunity to tinker with their hardware. The tinkering, more often than not, turned out for the better - at least most of the time.

When you and O2 first arrived, the presence of a battle droid initially unnerved the townsfolk. However, they grew accustomed to O2's quirky demeanor. O2 was more goofy than intimidating almost by design. Plus, after a few instances of O2 causing trouble with the neighbors, they quickly learned to keep their hands off the droid. Often with a not so subtle reminder of a vibroblade at their throats.

O2 ambled through the town, exchanging waves with the occasional vendor. Stalls and shops lined the narrow, winding streets, colorful canopies providing shelter from the sun for the patrons below. Amidst the hustle and bustle, droids weaved through the crowds, delivering goods and providing services to customers. 

As O2 approached the parts dealer, raised voices caught their attention. Nearby, at a fruit stand, a vendor held a pear just out of reach of a young girl. "That's not fair!" the girl protested, reaching for the fruit. "I already paid you!"

Deviating from their path, O2 made their way toward the girl. She appeared to be a young human with light hair, a visitor to the town. 

"Hey, stop that!" O2 called out in their attempt at an authoritative tone. They reached the girl and bent slightly to address her. "Are you in trouble, young human?"

The girl turned to O2, visibly puzzled. After a moment of assessing the situation, she nodded slowly. "Uh, yeah," she replied, more confidently this time. "Yes. He's taking my money but insisting I still owe him more." She pointed a finger accusingly at the vendor.

O2 looked between the vendor and the little girl several times. When they finally grasped the situation, they exclaimed, “Ohh! You’re in trouble and need more credits. That’s perfect!” They poked open the compartment on their chest, revealing the credits.

The girl shook her head in disbelief. "N-no, I've already paid," she insisted, casting a disdainful glance at the vendor. "He's just trying to cheat me."

Raising a finger in a gesture of understanding, O2 interjected, "You're in trouble and these credits are for 'in case of trouble.'" They plucked out a few credits and pivoted at the hip to offer them to the vendor.

From behind the booth, the vendor's expression shifted to one of quiet annoyance, yet he begrudgingly began packing a bag with pears. "There's no trouble, O2," he retorted curtly, dropping the bag into the girl's arms. "Now, move along, kid."

The girl frowned at the man but did turn away. She looked up at O2 with a smile. “Thanks,” She pulled a curious face and stepped back from the droid for a better look. “You’re a B1 battle droid. What are you doing here?”

“I’m purchasing a new part.” O2 held up the broken circulator as proof.

She held back a smile. “No, no. I meant, weren’t all battle droids supposed to be decommissioned.” She gestured around her, “So what are you doing out here alone?”

O2 didn’t have time to respond when a man yelled, “Omega! Get away from that thing!” A male with a face tattoo shoved through the crowd and slammed the battle droid in the chest with the hilt of a blade. 

“Whoa!” O2 yelled, stumbling backward into the fruit stand.

The little girl squeezed between O2 and the man.  “Don’t hurt them, Hunter!” She threw her arms out to shield O2. “They were just helping !” Three other men arrived behind Hunter while O2 righted themself.

One of the men, with a socket for a hand, pushed to the front of the group and pointed his prosthetic at the droid. “Omega, you don’t know what that clanker is capable of.” 

“Hey!” O2 whined in protest and shook a fist at him. “You can’t call me that!”

“Says who?” Growled the largest man of the group.

“Says my buddy!” O2 started reaching for its head to send out a comm when the fruit vendor grabbed his hand.

“O2!” He laughed nervously and patted the droid harshly, “There’s no trouble.” The vendor pointed a finger at the men. “I’m not dealing with their friend today, so move out.”

“Friend?” The big guy repeated incredulously.

The cyborg hovered his hand over the blaster at his hip. “Where’s your master, droid?”

O2 thrusted their head in a sassy manner, “I don’t have a master.”

Hunter moved Omega to the side and put his knife just below O2’s head. “Why don’t you take us to this friend of yours?”

“That depends.” O2 said skeptically. “Are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter passed a look to the men behind him. “An inn?”

“Only customers can come to the inn. So - are you looking for an inn?”

Hunter lowered the knife and jerked his head to say ‘get going’, “Sure thing. Now, let’s go.”

“Roger, roger.” The droid said with a little salute and then tapped his fingers to the tip of his face. “Say, do I know you guys?

“Move it, clanker.” The cyborg ordered again.

Back at the inn, you waited in the lobby reading through bank statements. The front door was open to the street, allowing you to hear O2’s distinctive footsteps approaching. You pushed away from and around the desk to greet them. “That may have been your fastest run yet. How much - oh!” You stopped mid sentence when a young girl trailed in behind the droid. Behind your headgear you smiled, “Did you make a friend?”

The little blonde waved up at you, “Hello.”

A dent in O2’s chest plate caught your eye. You motioned for the droid. “O2, what did you do to your chest plate?” 

“Well, I didn’t do it.” The droid sassed, but moved forward and leaned down for you to inspect. You reached up, held their head, and moved it side to side for inspection. Other than the dent they were fine. You patted their face in relief when, from the corner of your eye four figures filed in.

You went stock-still at the sound of a familiar voice, Hunter’s voice. “You own this clanker?”

This was it. This was the day you died. 

Giving O2 one last pat, you turned to face the Bad Batch standing in your doorway, as formidable as ever. Hunter led the group, with Echo on his left, Tech on his right, and Wrecker flanking Echo. Crosshair was conspicuously absent. Their mismatched armor was newly painted in vibrant colors. 

Silently assessing them, you took a moment to compose yourself, shoving your fear and anger as deep as you could. Their demeanor said they didn't recognize you and you needed them gone before they did.

"Sure," you replied vaguely, your voice muffled by the voice modulator. Keeping your gaze fixed on the clones, you instructed O2, "O2, grab my satchels from the back." Without hesitation, the droid complied.

"What are you doing with a separatist battle droid?" Echo's voice bristled as he stepped forward. "Do you realize how dangerous that thing is?"

Images of Echo tending to your wounds flooded in, abruptly interrupted by the recollection of red blaster shots narrowly missing your head.

"OOM-672 has been reprogrammed," you replied, waving your hand dismissively. "They no longer pose a threat and wartime objectives have been nullified."

"Incorrect," Tech said as he tapped the side of his helmet to move his visor. "If the droid's reprogramming is faulty, it could revert to its original directives at any moment. Depending on the data stored in its memory, that could prove dangerous should it fall into the wrong hands." He advanced toward O2, pointing a finger. "Allow me to examine it—"

“Their programming is fine.” You instinctively took a step back, bumping into O2 with the bags you requested. One had spare credits for bribing them out of your parlor and, in case that didn’t work, the other contained a blaster and Bilaba’s lightsaber.

As you sorted through the first bag for credits, you spat, “No one lays a hand on the droid except me. Especially not a bunch of clones." With a flick of your wrist, you tossed a handful of credits at Hunter. "Now get out of my lobby.” You made the mistake of addressing them as clones and hoped the odd comment passed over them. They obviously didn’t look like other clones to the untrained eye.

"Oh!" O2's voice chimed in recognition, but you swiftly raised a hand to silence the droid.

“Do we look like we work for the Empire?” Wrecker asked, almost growled, with hands on Omega’s shoulders. 

Hunter glanced at the credits before tossing them back. “Just let us look at the droid,” he urged.

Without missing a beat you caught the credits, brandished the blaster, and aimed it at the leader. Immediately, the other brothers aimed their blasters at you. "Got a malfunction in those helmets?" You gestured toward the exit with your weapon. "I said leave. No stranger gets their hands on my droid."

“Strangers?” O2 stepped to your side and pointed at the group of clones. “They’re not strangers. We know them.”

Your blaster dipped for a moment, frustration nipping at you before you firmed up your grip. “O2, knowing someone for five minutes doesn’t mean you know them.”

“Just calm down.” Hunter said slowly.

“Five minutes?” The battle droid shook their head in confusion. “We go waaay back.” They hummed a thoughtful sound. “Although they did stun me on Kaller.” A chill gripped your spine at the mention of Kaller.

"Kaller?" Omega's gaze flitted between the men around her. "Where's that?" The rustle of shifting armor filled the lobby as the four men exchanged glances, their blasters trained still on you.

“Who are you and how did you get that droid?” Echo's voice carried a forceful edge as he pushed you.

“Get out.” You repeated with more venom. “Clones follow orders. That’s an order.”

Hunter slowly raised his hands, removing his helmet and revealing his tattooed face. The sight of him made it hard to breathe through.

"We're not with the Empire," Hunter declared. "And we're not big on following orders, either."

"Liar!" Your scream reverberated through the room, the voice modulator straining against your volume. Something flickered in Hunter's expression.

For someone with no skin in the war, you were proving to be  awfully reactive.

"Hunter," Tech intervened firmly, prompting you to swing your blaster in his direction. "Look at that blaster." You glanced down at your weapon, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

“What about it, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“That blaster has nonstandard modifications. Only five like it exist.” Tech explained, his tone serious.

“Not the time to be admiring blasters.” Echo snapped.

“The issue is,” Tech shot an annoyed look at his brother. “They are my modifications.” His grip relaxed slightly. “We have four of them and the other was - ”

You fired a shot at Tech before he could finish and attempted to fire another when Hunter lunged at you. He knocked the blaster from your hand and swung for your head. Wrecker shoved the kid behind him while you and Hunter exchanged blows, his hitting much harder than you remembered. 

You saw Tech activating a stun grenade as O2 reached for your blaster. Yanking a vibroblade from your hip, you rammed the hilt of it into the side of Hunter’s head, causing him to stumble back. Swiftly, you lurched in the way of the stun grenade, intercepted it, and threw as far as you could behind you.

Echo took no time in disarming and disabling O2 while Hunter regained his senses and grabbed for you. His touch was a breath away when you thrust out your hands and blew him back with the Force. Before Hunter could register what happened, Wrecker grabbed you by the neck, and yanked you from the ground.

You clawed at his hand but couldn’t stop the giant crushing your windpipe and ripping off your headgear. 

Seeing your bare face, livid and unable to breathe, shook Wrecker and gave you the chance to slam your feet into his stomach. He dropped you to the ground where you writhed and gasped for air. Your dropped blaster was nowhere in sight, but the other satchel was.

Still retching for air, you threw a hand out and the lightsaber flew to you. Green light blasted out of the hilt, parallel to the ground and putting a thrumming barrier between you and the clones.

“A Jedi?” Omega said in wonder, poking her head around Wrecker. Wrecker, notably, didn’t push her back behind him.

They all lowered their weapons and Tech, Echo, and Wrecker removed their helmets. Different shades of shock on all of them. “Sarad?” Tech spoke softly.

“Stay away from me.” You growled from the ground. Slowly, you repositioned yourself, strengthening your stance to pounce or run.

“We thought you were-”

“Dead?” You cut Wrecker off and cut a look at Tech. “Guess you aren’t as thorough as you think.” At that, Tech’s eyebrows hit his hairline.

“We didn’t follow that order.” Hunter interjected.

“Liar!” You lashed out. “I heard the troopers. ‘Clone Force 99 took care of the padawan.’”

Hunter started lowering himself to your eye level. “We let him escape.”

Echo stepped forward, his eyes avoiding yours. “We thought you were dead,” he admitted. He closed his eyes for a moment before finally meeting your gaze. “We thought the other troopers got to you, but we came looking for you as soon as we could.”

You didn’t dignify him with a response, in your eyes the only thing they deserved were holes through their chests.

Out of all of them, Tech stood the straightest, his demeanor showing no sign of shame in their handling of the situation. Still, he thought carefully on how to say what he needed, his hands clenching and unclenching as he processed it.

When he locked eyes with you, it was clear he’d considered his words meticulously, repeating the process in his mind multiple times before coming to the same conclusion

“With your blood and broken armor, there were two plausible outcomes,” he began, counting them out with his fingers. “First, that you perished either by the troopers or the falls. The second, that you…” His gaze momentarily shifted away, seeing your armor in the rocks. “... that you escaped.” Returning his gaze to yours, he continued, “In both scenarios, our intervention would have only made things worse. And Crosshair-”

You jumped to your feet in a challenge, Hunter quickly positioning himself between you and the others. “I don’t believe you,” you hissed, swinging the saber to the side before snapping it back in front of you. “So finish what you started.”

Hunter maintained his steady gaze as his brothers holstered their blasters. “We won’t fight you,” he assured, his tone resolute. Your eyes darted between them, searching for any sign of aggression. Seconds stretched on but the men held their ground.

“He’s telling the truth,” Omega whispered, joining Hunter at his side. "All clones were programmed to follow that order." She cast a meaningful glance at the men surrounding her. "But their altered states made them immune to the order."

For months, anger had been your constant companion, fueling you through each passing rotation. Anger at the Jedi Purge, at the failures of the Republic, and most of all, the seething rage at the Bad Batch for leaving you behind to bear the weight of it all alone. Months of grief and pain don’t just disappear.

The room seemed to warp and blur around you, your grip on the saber beginning to falter. Clinging to it tightly, you gritted your teeth, fighting to maintain your composure. The world snapped back into focus when tears finally breached your resolve, slipping down your cheeks unchecked.

“Then….” your arm dipped before falling limply at your side. “You left me for dead.” Your voice cracked and the words came out in a sob. “You left me behind.”

You thought the pain of them hunting you was the worst thing you could experience. The realization of abandonment was worse. A tight knot formed in your stomach, threatening to make you sick.

Driven by months of simmering anger, you shook your head through your tears. , “I survived without you, and I’ll keep surviving without you.” You let the green light of the saber fade. “So just leave.” The last words came out less like the command you wanted it to be and more like plea.

Wrecker ‘s eyes went wide, “You think after all this time,” he gestured toward you, “when we just got you back, we’d just leave?” A defiant look passed over him. “Sorry, not happening.”

“Sarad,” Tech spoke like it was just the two of you. YoYou closed your eyes briefly, savoring the familiarity of his tone. For a moment, you thought they might all disappear, as if they were never there. “Leaving you was a choice we never wanted to make. But it was the choice that led us here and ensured your survival. Keeping you alive was more important than keeping you by our sides.” He nodded, standing firm in his choices. “Your survival was the only acceptable outcome.”

The lightsaber grew heavy in your hand.

Wrecker reached out with a pleading gesture. "The regs would've— we couldn't..." He faltered, searching for the right words, but Omega touched his forearm and urged him forward.

Wrecker stepped through his brothers and although you flinched like you might run he reached out and touched your face. First with one hand and then a second when you tried to turn away. Holding you like that, seeing you safe in his hands, made it hard for Wrecker to ever imagine letting go.

Tears continued to flow down your cheeks, falling over his hands. Wrecker swept them away with his thumbs before pulling you into his arms. "Sorry, Sarad. We're sorry."

Your hands hovered on either side of you, it was the first time you’d truly touched another organic lifeform since Kaller. The lightsaber hit the ground and you fell into Wrecker.

You’d let yourself feel angry at them all those months alone, but, in an instant, it was overshadowed by the grief of having been without them. 

Pulling just out of Wrecker’s embrace you rubbed away the remaining tears. “I’ve missed you.”

“We missed you too.” Echo answered for the group.

Looking between them all, you felt like the world was a little safer. There were a few things standing out to you though. First being the little girl with them and Crosshair’s absence.

Immediately reading you, Hunter touched Omega’s shoulder. “A lot has changed.”

"I can see that," the girl smiled warmly at you, her expression oddly familiar despite never having met before.

Tech breezed past you, heading straight for O2. He knelt beside the droid, adjusting his goggles before turning to you. "So, you really salvaged this droid from Kaller?" You affirmed with a nod, prompting a look of mild disturbance from Tech. "And it's proven to be useful?" Another nod from you. "Well, that's just as surprising as your survival," he remarked, his tone tinged with genuine curiosity.

"Be kind to O2," you interjected, joining Tech by O2's side to rouse the droid. "They're my friend."

Echo scratched the back of his head, a sheepish expression crossing his features. "That's... going to take some getting used to."

Omega joined you and Tech, her eyes wide with fascination as Tech began to point out various features of the battle droid. A smile tugged at your lips as you watched the interaction unfold. The inn you had purchased never truly felt like home, much like Coruscant and the Jedi Order before it.

But here, amidst the Bad Batch, you finally felt a sense of belonging. You were home.

[wanderer-six]

Late Night

AN: this tweet changed my life I could not stop thinking about this i needed to write this i need you all to b thinking about this too

Relationships: Hunter x Fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: You and Hunter have been together for years now, living out a happy life on Pabu. You're spending the night together, and time has done nothing to quell your desires.

WARNINGS: unprotected p in v, orgasm denial, edging (it's ok he can take it), old man hunter im dedd 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 2k I did not proofread this apologies in advance if it's bad I hope u can at least get behind the Vibes u feel me

It’s another beautiful night on Pabu. The sun set over the island hours ago, and the moon now bathes the ocean in shimmering silver. As the day wound down, so too did the residents; the paths that bustle by day are all but empty now as everyone settles in for a peaceful night.

All around the island, there is quiet. The only sounds you hear now are the gentle drone of the waves, and his heavy breathing.

Like all the others, you and Hunter retired to your bungalow, but rest is far from your minds. In the dark of your bedroom, you and him are bare, chasing off any chill from the evening air with each other’s warmth. Hunter, the man you’ve loved for a lifetime, is beneath you now. You balance your hands on his broad shoulders, riding him slowly, wonderfully, biting your lip as he meets your gaze with weary eyes. 

Even after all these years, making love to him still feels as amazing as it did the very first night you shared together. Each roll of your hips fills you with more of him, and you can’t help but whimper when he hits every spot you love. It seems he hasn’t had his fill of you, either. Though time has had its effects on Hunter, it certainly hasn’t changed the way he yearns for you. Even now, he hangs on your every movement, his vigilant eyes darting between your pleasured expressions and your hips taking his cock.

Deciding he’s gotten a little too comfortable, you descend onto his length at a different angle, allowing him to reach deeper than before. At the sudden sensation, a groan catches in his chest. Between his labored breaths, he chuckles.

“You feel so fucking good, cyar’ika…” 

Humming through a smile, you rest your forehead on his.

“You’re one to talk, handsome…” Your fingers trail through his hair, still just as long as when you first met, but having faded to grey some time ago. “I can’t get enough of you.”

That confident, effortless smirk tugs at his lips. You’ve seen it a thousand times, yet each time he wears it, heat still rises beneath your cheeks.

“Heh… is that so?” Though his once defined, sharp muscles have softened from years of respite on the island, he still feels as strong as ever when he grips at your hips. “I guess time hasn’t gotten the best of me in every way…”

At this, it’s your turn to grin. You know it’s been a few long years since the two of you last saw combat; with the clones’ advanced aging, those years have counted double for him. But even if you’re older than you once were, you know you still have plenty of time left.

And it’s when Hunter starts to pretend as though he’s moments from death’s door that you like to remind him what he’s still capable of.

Without warning, you melt against Hunter, draping your arms over his shoulders and crashing your lips onto his. His tongue dances with yours, and as his arms hold you flush against him by your waist, you begin to roll your hips more quickly. You move faster, harder, riding him for all he’s worth. You revel in every little noise he makes, the way his eyes flutter shut in pure bliss. His fingers tense, clinging to your hips so desperately as to leave bruises.

In the Force, you feel how close he is. How near he is to losing himself fully in you…

… and right before he hits his peak, you lift yourself off of him, robbing him of the only thing he craves in that moment.

Hunter utters a groan, wincing through the torment of his denied release. He leans his head back against the wall, and you can feel his heart kicking fast against his chest.

“F-Fuck…” he hisses through gritted teeth.

Despite his anguish, you can only grin. You lean forward, lavishing him with gentle kisses as he settles down.

“Easy, Sergeant,” you sing. “I’m not done with you yet.”

As you kneel over him, he dares to glance between your legs. You’re so tantalizingly close to his aching length, and though his desperation is clear on his face, he knows better than to think you’ll be so generous. Utterly helpless, he shakes his head. 

“I’m too old for you to be teasing me like this…” he mutters, a weak smile tugging at his lips. You roll your eyes at his self-admonishment.

“Oh, enough…” With a deep exhale, you rest your forehead against his, and your eyes fall shut as you bask in the feeling of him. For every experience you’ve had in every corner of the galaxy, nothing compares to having Hunter all to yourself. “I know you can handle it, even if we may not be young anymore…”

Though he’s clearly just as lost in your attentions, this remark has him prop an eye open to sneer at you.

“‘We’?” he repeats with a chuckle. Sighing, he runs his rough hands up the curves of your waist. “You’ve still got your whole life ahead of you—even if you’re wasting it torturing an old clone like me…”

Your eyes warm, and you bite your lip. With a dangerous twist of your hips, you grind against him, earning a deep grumble from Hunter’s chest. Your lips linger by his ear.

“I think I know my Hunter by now…” you purr, voice low enough to make him shiver, “and if there’s one thing he likes, it’s a challenge.”

Without a word of warning, you lower yourself back onto his cock, taking him deep inside as you begin riding him again. Hunter goes rigid, fumbling for purchase against your hips as they overwhelm him with pleasure. Nothing could ever thrill you more than the way he touches you. For as long as you’ve been together, he’s known exactly how to make your body sing for him. Even now, a desperate mess beneath you, his hands run along your skin purely by instinct.

And luckily, you know his body just as well.

Again, you fuck him harder. Again, you feel the tension in his core, the white-hot release building inside of him…

Again, you stop just short, lifting off of him right before he can come.

Your poor sergeant whines again, his head lolling back as his eyes pinch shut. Between your legs, his cock throbs, twitching in desperate need for the stimulation you’ve so cruelly deprived him of. 

“A-ah…!” Between his heavy breaths, chest rising and falling arduously, he moans in complaint. “You’re… fuck, you’re driving me crazy…”

While he grovels in such a sorry state, you’re no worse for wear at all. You place kiss after languid kiss up his neck, tickling his skin with your breath.

“I can keep this up all night, handsome…” Pulling away just enough to catch his eye, you don a mischievous grin. “I think you can, too.”

 In the face of your taunting, Hunter surprises you when his smile softens. He cups your face with a trembling hand, running his thumb gently along your cheek. You lean into his touch, admittedly falling victim to his sudden tenderness.

“Tell me…” he asks, “what’s it gonna take for you to let me off, huh?”

You giggle, leaning forward to nuzzle your nose against his.

“Hm… I don’t know,” you sigh, playing coy. “I think you might just be too old to manage what I have in mind…~”

With a chuckle, he pinches your cheek. “Try me.”

Pulling away just enough to meet his eyes, you flash him a charming grin.

“Tell me you love me.”

Through his lust-filled gaze, Hunter raises an eyebrow above a half-smirk.

“What… that’s all?”

You nod. “Mm-hm. That is… if you think you can handle—”

You’re cut off when Hunter’s lips catch yours, meeting you in a kiss so deep you nearly feel like you’re drowning. His tongue toys with yours, so desperate to taste you it makes heat flood beneath your cheeks. Still, you can’t help but smile against him. Though Hunter likes to act as though he’s old and grey, now, you know he’s far from gone. In moments like these, you feel the fire that’s burned inside him since the very beginning. It hasn’t faded in the slightest. You know it never will.

When he finally pulls away, he doesn’t stray far, lips ghosting over yours as he holds your gaze with intense eyes.

“I love you, cyar’ika,” he breathes, a solemn swear. “Always have… always will.”

For the first time that night, it seems you’re the one on the backfoot. Eyes wide and innocent, you’re touched by the sincerity of his words. You know Hunter, know that he does everything to the fullest. But hearing for certain that his passion would be yours for as long as you both have left… your heart can scarcely take it.

With sudden desperation, you press your lips to his, and you bury his cock in your warmth. He moans into your mouth, and you moan back, losing yourself to the feeling as you ride him again. Tense hands grip at every part of you—your waist, your ass, your shoulders—leaving marks on your skin as he tries in vain to bear the sensation. But it isn’t long until his resolve begins to break.

As a gasp catches in Hunter’s throat, his lips break from yours.

“F-Fuck, cyar’ika… I’m gonna…”

You already know. You feel his energy shifting—you feel how close he is. His delayed release has only built up to something more intense… but this time, you don’t back off. You indulge him, rolling your hips even faster than before. With what little stamina he has left tonight, he’s thrusting into you, and you whimper aloud as he hits every perfect spot inside you. You’re as close as he is…

And when you reach your climax, you’re amazed he can stay conscious.

Hunter buries himself to the hilt in your cunt, coming deep inside you. Your orgasm milks him for every last drop, and given the way you’ve tormented him tonight, he has plenty to give. By the time you’ve sucked him dry, his overstimulated cock still twitching in your walls, he’s quivering beneath you, completely and utterly spent. He breathes as heavy as he would during the war, on missions that would see him running for hours… You’re sure he’ll ache just as badly, come morning.

After taking a moment to recover, Hunter opens his eyes, gazing up at you with a precious smile. Gingerly, you tuck his hair behind his ears, supporting his head as you meet him in a feather-light kiss.

“I love you, too, Hunter…” you hum, voice barely above a whisper. “Always have, always will.”

The smile he wears is genuine. He tilts his head to catch your hand, placing a kiss on your palm.

“I’m glad. I don’t know what I’d do without you, cyar’ika.” He pauses, then chuckles bitterly as he closes his eyes again. “Even if you’re liable to kill me, putting me through nights like this…”

Your grin turns more playful. Slowly, you lift yourself off of Hunter, relishing the way he shivers as his length falls out of you.

“Be thankful I’m so generous,” you tease as you lay beside him. You rest your head on his chest, sighing in utter contentment. “If I weren’t, you would be in for another round… or ten.”

Hunter chuckles, voice reverberating in his broad chest in a way that soothes you more than anything else could. Arm wrapped around you, he traces idle shapes on your skin.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something meaner to treat me to when we wake up tomorrow,” he sighs. His gentle lips press to your forehead. “But for now, let me get some rest, huh?”

Giggling, you nuzzle your face in the crook of his neck.

“Hm… all right. But only because I love you so much.”

The warm night air, the distant roar of the waves, the embrace of the man you’ll always love… you can’t imagine anything more perfect. But as always, Hunter finds a way to make the greatest things even greater.

“I love you more, cyar’ika. Always.”

AN: Thank you as always for reading mmwah mwah I hope you enjoy, always stay edging that old man ♥♥

[itmeblog]

It's Black History Month

(Over here in the US of A) So here are some podcasts to check out.

Absolutely no Adventures - a fantasy (un)adventure story that follows Sig, the owner of Signature Eats bakery, as he aggressively avoids becoming embroiled in any daring quests or chosen one shenanigans even though the universe really seems to want him to do just that. This is a story about cutting Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey off at the knees to chill with friends and staying far, far away from the slightest whiff of adventure. And also baking. This is also a story about baking.

Afflicted - Lovecraft Country meets True Blood in this new series from award-winning producers Tonia Ransom and Jen Zink. In season one, a small East Texas town suffers supernatural disasters caused by a demonic book bound in human flesh…and only hoodoo can save the town from its affliction.

Apollyon - In the early 22nd century, the Apollyon virus wiped out 75% of the world’s population, and now most of the world is governed by the International Conglomerate of Research Scientists. Dr. Theo Ramsey is an ICRS research scientist who may have just discovered an effective vaccine for Apollyon, but the stakes to get the vaccine to the public are higher than she ever imagined.

Between Heartbeats - Tan immersive Urban Fantasy about the hurt, the powerful, and their growth within a broken world. We follow Sundiata, a guilt-ridden time manipulator with a knack for unemployment, and Nadia, a moralistic telepath determined not to lose control, as they balance frayed mental health against an unsympathetic police state. But when a malevolent presence rears is head, their neuroses become the least of their problems. Can our heroes make the most of their abilities before the option is taken from them?

Fan Wars: The Empire Claps Back - Two passionate Star Wars fans on opposite sides of the Last Jedi debate argue via Skype after their favorite forum closes down. If you love Star Wars (or call yourself a proud member of any fandom), you’ll love this romantic comedy told via

Harlem Queen - a Black historical fiction audio drama based on the life and times of Black, woman, "gangster" Madame Stephanie St. Clair during the Harlem Renaissance.

His Royal Fakin' Highness - What if Ophelia helped Hamlet get his throne back? This modern day, romantic comedy re-imagining of Shakespeare's Hamlet asks just that. As they stage an engagement in the wake of the king's death, these childhood frenemies must decide between duty and love.

InCo (This one's mine :D) - A Sci-Fi story about a disgruntled information seller, a mysterious space boy, and an android doing her best.

Janus Descending - a limited series, science fiction/horror audio drama podcast, follows the arrival of two xenoarcheologists on a small world orbiting a binary star. But what starts off as an expedition to survey the planet and the remains of a lost alien civilization, turns into a monstrous game of cat and mouse, as the two scientists are left to face the creatures that killed the planet in the first place.

Lady Lucy - Lady Lucy is an audio drama inspired by Shakespeare's "Dark Lady" Sonnets, 127-154. Between running her brothel, fighting the Church, murdering her friends' abusive husbands, and pretending to be a poet, the last thing Lucy needed back in 1586 was a surprise visit from her former flame... Will Shakespeare.

Liars and Leeches - Tonya Wright felt it all after the tragic murders of her sister and brother-in-law in a random act of gun violence. Struggling to travel outside of her home, she now lives constantly on edge about perceived threats that seem to surround her.

Nightlight - Multi-award winning horror podcast featuring creepy stories with full audio production written by Black writers and performed by Black actors. So scary it’ll make you want to leave your night light on.

Null /Void - a science fiction audio drama about a young woman, Piper Lee, whose life is saved by a mysterious voice named Adelaide. Piper soon uncovers a malicious plot by a monopoly of a tech company and must work with her friends and an unusual ally to help foil their deadly plot.

Out of Ashes - (currently remastering season 1) Follow a group of survivors as they navigate the ruins of modern civilization and battle against demons, ghosts, monsters and the looming threat of extinction from an ancient power.

Small Victories - A recently recovered drug addict tries to start her new lease on life, too bad life has it out for her.  This dramatic comedy follows Marisol through the ups and downs of her life.

The Courtship of Mona Mae - In the 1870s, pioneers Mona Mae Christophe and Zekial Montgomery search the American West for Mona Mae's mother, Clara. Mona must recall a past, long forgotten in order to survive, so that she can find her mother, love and create a way of life for herself.

Vega a Sci-Fi Adventure Podcast - In a fantasy futuristic world, Vega Rex is employed by her government to kill off the world's worst criminals. She's never met a criminal she couldn't catch…until now. Join Vega as she journeys through a world of bumbling apprentices, powerful technogods, and her biggest challenge yet. Hosted by Ivuoma Hall.

Witchever Path - is an anthology series where your decisions effect the story. Our stories are based in America’s NorthEast, featuring characters finding themselves in the thick of the unknown while tackling issues like queer identity, gender, race, and spirituality. Stories often focus on the communities not typically seen in stories taking place in New England, and giving voice to the perspectives of those communities while uniting under some universal themes. And the supernatural happens. A lot.

(All descriptions were taken from websites)

If you want to find more and there are way more there's a directory :D

[kometqh]

𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Jedi!Reader Pt.2 of Forget Me Not Rex has finally settled down on a faraway, isolated planet. Finally, he has found some semblance of peace from the ongoing war against the Empire. Finally, he can take the time to recover from losing you, but how long will that last? Word Count: 3007 Warnings: Swearing, making out, old injuries. A/N: This has been specifically requested, and can be thought of as either the continuation of the previous story or an alternative ending :) It was going to turn into a big fat smut but my brain couldn't handle posting that (I've never written or posted a full smut before!!)

Vast golden fields swayed gently in the warm, evening summer breeze. The golden sun illuminated the landscape, a warm glow settling over the hay and Rex's figure, who was relaxing on his porch, hands behind his head as he observed the sight before him.

How many times had he dreamt of such a sight? Of owning his own little farm, of owning a couple of banthas and chickens and goats? 

Too many times for his younger, prouder self to admit. 

Where his brothers used to loudly fantasise over their ideal futures, he was too busy playing the perfect soldier, sticking to his obligations, rules and limitations.

But now? Now he had that one small bundle of joy, held tightly within his iron-hard grasp. And he wasn't about to go exchanging it for anything else. Not in a million lifetimes.

The loud, content bellowing of a few banthas stripped him of his thoughts, his gaze looking for the one particular creature that always seemed to make the most noise. Far ahead, to his left, was one bantha, rolling its body in the hay, short tail wagging left to right, continuous hums and moos escaping its throat in ground-shaking vibrations.

A soft smile tugged at Rex's lips; that was his oldest, and his first ever Bantha.

He had spent the last four years nurturing and caring for the creature, leading it over stretches of land, until he was finally able to settle down in an abandoned farmhouse, far away from any civilization.

The farmhouse itself wasn't in such bad shape. Sure, it needed repairs here and there, but it wasn't anything a tough solider like Rex couldn't handle. He got to work pretty quick, with his handy tools and a shit ton of determination, he had refurnished and fixed the farmhouse within a year and a half, and now, all that was left was to renew the coat of paint that seemed to chip away any time it rained.

But Rex figured that could wait, after all, no one would be able to tell that the farmhouse was being used as long as it looked old and rusty, right?

With a soft sigh, he closed his eyes, basking in the warmth provided by the rays of the setting sun. He was tired. It was a long day of working on the farm, planting the appropriate crops for the upcoming, much colder, season, as well as milking the banthas to make different cheeses the next day.

He thought over his schedule, already feeling a headache rising in the back of his head. The following week he was supposed to be making his way over to the nearest town, to sell whatever he had managed to produce over the last two weeks. Going to the closest town over was his least favourite activity; he preferred to stay hidden away in his little farmhouse with his Banthas and Tooka.

He preferred to relax on his porch, to watch over his animals as they grazed happily across the long stretch of fields, to feel the warm sunrays kissing his skin, to watch the sun lazily disappear behind the horizon.

He let his tired eyes fall closed, the wrinkles on his skin seemingly fading away, a soft smile shining on his face at the soft hum of the summer breeze and grazing animals, an all too familiar weight lifting from his chest inch by inch. The gentle breeze passed his body, leaving a pleasant, cooling chill to run down his spine.

Darkness and warmth surrounded him like a weighted blanket, though his body felt light. He dreamt of nothing, his mind jumping to and from consciousness, his body twitching at a sudden shift in atmosphere. His ears almost twitched at the soft whir of a ship flying above, goose bumps rising over the expanse of his bare, muscular arms as a much stronger wind grazed past his body.

But his eyes snapped open to the sound of panicked tip-tapping of his banthas, their heaved breathing and confused whines reaching his ears. The warm honeyed glare of his eyes was gone, now replaced by a deep black as he looked around, the night sky pitch black.

He must have snoozed off or something, how many hours have passed?

The banthas continued to make noise, but this time the briefest whispers accompanied them. With a strong, heavy inhale, Rex slowly rose from his seat, eyes squinted as he tried to cover for his lack of vision.

Who were they? The Empire? 

Surely not.

Rex had made sure to cover all of his tracks, remaining classed as officially dead in the Empire's files. 

Did someone betray him? 

But who? 

And how? 

Only a very small number of people actually knew-

"Hey lady! Calm it!" A familiar voice said all too loudly, giving an affectionate pat to one of the banthas. The voice, it was so.. so like Rex's.

His eyes widened as the other figures shushed the man, and Rex couldn't help the relieved smile and sigh that escaped his chest. 

He knew those people. After all, they're the ones he rescued Echo with.

However, one by one, various emotions swirled around in his head. Happiness? Of course. He was happy to see his brothers after four gruelling, lonely years. Confusion? Hell yeah! What was so important that they had to break their no contact? Relief too, he could feel the way his heart rate had spiked just at the mere idea of danger, blood rushing into his head, loudly pounding against his eardrums.

Slowly, one foot moved, followed by the other, taking turns leading Rex down the porch, towards his brothers. Towards his family.

At the sight of Rex's moving figure, some men groaned, whereas Wrecker and Omega began running at full-speed towards the male, tackling him to the ground in a long awaited hug.

"Rex! We missed you!" Omega exclaimed, erupting into fits of laughter as Rex's strong arm wrapped around her and Wrecker.

"Alright alright! Now get off of me, I can feel my bones being crushed!" Rex exclaimed, though his hold on the two didn't ease, nor did his smile disappear.  Quickly scrambling off of him, the two couldn't contain their happy, yet seemingly mischievous smiles as Hunter extended a hand out to Rex.

"It's been a while, brother." Hunter nodded, pulling Rex in for a quick hug, patting his back. Hunter's body was stiff, his shoulders tense and breathing strained as he moved away, Rex noticed. That was unusual.

Though a smile remained on his face, Rex couldn't help but feel nervous at the strange tension surrounding the batch. As he looked around, one eyebrow quirked at the sight of Tech and Crosshair shielding Echo from view and.. someone else? Who were they?

"What's going on..?" He questioned, his eyes narrowing as he looked between the two.

Echo and the figure stood in the very far back, Echo's arm was wrapped tightly around their shoulders, holding them protectively close to his chest, his grip tight as if the figure would disappear into the darkness of the night if his hold let up even by an inch.

His eyes remained trained on Echo and the mysterious figure, though Rex's head tilted slightly to the right, in Hunter's direction.

"Hunter-" Rex started, but was quickly interrupted by the look on Echo's face. His ears strained, almost missing the soft, trembling whimper. The figure brought a hand up to their face, too late in stifling the sound.

As their hand lifted, Rex noticed that all-too familiar, cuffed sleeve hanging onto their hand. 

Time seemed to slow, his chest straining painfully at the sound. Rex could feel his heart drop, the air sucked from his body like a popped balloon.

His sight was stuck on that sleeve, visions plaguing his mind, replaying like a broken tape.

Memories, memories of her.

That voice.

His legs moved before his mind could even comprehend what was happening. Tech and Crosshair narrowly avoided being collided into, stepping to the side as Rex pushed through. 

His lips twisted into a pained frown, his teeth gritted together like metal bars.

That robe.. That Jedi robe.

How didn't he notice it right away?

The look on Echo's face told him everything he needed to know, his hold easing on her as Rex reached his arms out, gripping her shoulders tightly.

"Y/n.." Her name spilled from his lips so easily, so softly, as though he was cursed, spellbound to only repeat her name, only those few simple syllables for the rest of eternity. It lingered on his tongue like the sweetest of syrups, leaving a fiery, burning trail in his throat, scalding at his heart like a molten fist, twisting, turning and tearing.

"Rex," A shiver fell down his spine, his breath hitching in his throat. How long had it been since he last heard it? Tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes, his gut twisting into a familiar knot, adrenaline spreading like fire through his veins. His heart pumped blood so quickly, so fiercely through his body, it was like a thousand fireworks had gone off in that instant. Many people have said his name, of course, but only her voice had ever evoked such strong emotions in him.

From the way she'd command his attention during meetings, her gaze lingering a second longer than necessary, the way she'd whisper it when it was just the two of them, hiding in a faraway corner on one of the ships, or even the way it rolled off the tip of her tongue whilst-

It felt like the world around had been sucked into the background, leaving only the two of them, hearts beating wildly, minds melting over one another, even the cold night failing to gather their attention.

His hands, which had been previously on her shoulders, were now gently cradling her face, thumbs swishing back and forth in soft strokes. 

His whole focus was on her eyes- oh, those starry eyes.

How many times had he dreamed of them?

How many times had he cried at night, calling out for her in broken whispers and sobs?

Rex knew it was a few times too many, and yet at the same time, it wasn't enough.

A sob left his lips as he dropped the hood off her head, revealing the person behind the shadowy figure.

Something was different. Off.

Her face, although so familiar, was now so different. Bathed in aged lines, marks, grease and dirt, and worst of all.. A scar.

He hadn't noticed it under the shadow of her hood, but now, it was ever so prominent under the blaring moonlight.

A lone tear cascaded down his face, leaving a wet, salty trail from the midpoint of his eye, down the plush softness of his cheek, dripping off the edge of his jaw. Just like her scar. He let his thumb caress the rough, broken, damaged skin, his lips twisted in a pained frown, stunned to silence.

Her hand, one that used to be so soft and so gentle, was now gripping tightly at his wrist, a gentle shadow on her cheeks, on her scar, casted by her eyelashes. When did she get it? How did she get it?

Her head twisted to the side, making the most effort to hide that side of her face from his gaze.

"Don't.." Rex whispered, no, he warned, taking a hold of her chin, forcing her to turn his way, to face him. Lowering his face to hers, his voice was strained, rough, pleading. "I want to see you.. Let me see you, mesh'la." The word spilled from his lips with such ease, like a prayer, with so much delicacy, so much practice, as he brushed his nose against hers, his eyes fluttering shut. His lips hovered just an inch above hers, feeling the warmth of her breath against his skin.

He had dreamt of this day, every night, every day. For. So. Many. Years.

He had dreamt of lifting her into his arms, of kissing her, of crying with her, of pushing her against his bed, leaning on top of her, making love to her. 

For so many kriffing years.

She's alive.

"I missed you. So. Kriffing. Much." He muttered, his voice becoming more strained with each oncoming word, his eyes squeezed shut, his forehead flush against your own as he fought every fibre in his body against the awful, suffocating need to kiss you. Another pained whimper left your lips, unknowingly acting as a trigger for his next movements.

His lips crashed against your own, his hands keeping your face steady, making sure you wouldn't slip away like the hundreds, no, thousands of dreams he's had before.

Your lips were as soft as he remembered, your touch featherlight and rough. Your hands were shaking, he noted. You were afraid. Afraid of him? You wouldn't be kissing back if that was the case.

Your scent overwhelmed him, it was that faint smell of peach shampoo that he loved so much, it was making his knees weak. Where did you manage to get that from? From the state of you, he was sure you were dying for a hot, bubbly bath. Maybe it was just his imagination playing up. Kissing you, it was addicting. He was like a starved man, pushing his lips against your own, his tongue slipping past to dance with yours in a sweet Waltz, full of grief and hope and longing and all the years wasted away by your separation, by his fear of your light having been snuffed out, like a flickering flame.

You were his light in the dark, his oasis in a never-ending dessert, his midsummer night's dream. You had that spark in you - the one that attracted individuals to you like moths to light. Your laugh, so easily evoked, and your kind smiles, so easily graced upon anyone and everyone, shining down like sunshine on a dewy, autumn morning. You were a breath of fresh air, but also a crackling, comforting fire on a cold winters night.

But he had lost you just so quickly, on that day. Never knowing, for years, if you'd be back. If you were alive.

Your touch slowly grew from soft, dissipated like cotton-candy and falling snowflakes, to eager, pleading for more as your fingers found solace in his slightly outgrown blonde hair, encasing his head in your embrace, pulling him closer as you kissed feverishly, afraid he will disappear like dandelion seeds on a spring day.

You couldn't hear anything but his heartbeat, you couldn't smell anything but his scent, one that had creeped up on you and wrapped around you in an invisible embrace, the smell of freshly cut grass and smoky campfires entrapping you. You couldn't feel anything but him. His hands, always so much bigger than yours, had completely and utterly gotten control over your body, feeling and caressing your hair, gripping your chin and pulling you closer by your waist, his lips hot against your own, his breathing stuttering and yet so laboured as his teeth clashed against your own, his eyes scrunched shut - afraid you would disappear.

Being held in his arms was like a dream come true. You could spend an eternity with him, never losing your love and affection for the soldier standing before you. His warmth planted butterflies in your stomach, and his touch ignited them, making them burn wildly in your gut, scalding and yet patching over the old scars and wounds, gently embracing your heart in a healing bandage.

Only Rex could do such a thing. 

Only Rex could make your heart beat faster, only Rex could have adrenaline pumping through your veins just by a featherlight touch, or a sweet, candy-like, tooth-rotting whisper, or a longing, loving gaze of his golden irises and lush eyelashes.

So lost in each other, for so long, neither the two of you broke contact, until Hunter had to clear his throat awkwardly and speak up to make the two of you slowly, unwillingly, pull apart. 

Rex's forehead rested against yours, crows feet tugging at the outer corners of his eyes, his lips slightly agape as he tried to calm down the galloping of his heart. 

Slowly, eventually, his eyes opened again, the familiar warm colour of honey swirling around his pupils as he gazed into your eyes, a small, pained, and yet happy smile overtaking his features. His heart melted as that same smile reflected on your face, and tears brimmed in your eyes.

"Are you guys done yet?" Crosshair's voice called from a short distance, disgust and yet somehow a hint of endearment present in it.

"You lot go ahead, we'll catch up in a minute," Rex tossed the words over his shoulder with little to no care, rolling his eyes at the loud scoff that came from Crosshair. It was quickly followed by an audible smack, an 'Ouch', and the sound of retreating footsteps.

Your shoulders shook as a breathy laugh escaped you, and as you shut your eyes once more, tears began to escape one by one, sliding down the expanse of your cheek. Rex wasted no time in bringing a hand to gently wipe away at your tears, his own tears tickling at his waterline. 

He missed you so damn much.

And finally, you were here, with him, crying and smiling in his arms.

His throat felt tight, as if someone was strangling him, daring him to say anything. His chest felt heavy, and he was sure if he was stood up any longer, he would simply collapse. 

His thumb caressed the soft, and yet ragged, skin on your cheek, the corners of his lips twisted into a semi-frown, his heart hurting, blood pumping loudly in his ears.

His lips opened and closed, at a loss for words, but his voice found a way to come through.

"You have n-no idea," His voice was just above a mere whisper, afraid if he were to speak any louder, you'd crumble away under his touch, or he'd wake up. 

His thumb moved to trace the outline of your scar, a loving look present in the golden pool of his irises.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you.."

[david-talks-sw]

Woah there. Coming in a little hot. Take a step back, take stock, and chill. Even when we're discussing (read: "arguing") about stuff, it's Star Wars. It's a fictional universe. We're talking about movies and TV shows and comics aka... having fun.

(Which is advice that applies to me too, for the record)

That said, you trimmed out what I said, so I'll copy-paste it below (blue text) before expanding.

For context, someone said that (paraphrasing) the clones are referred to as “property of the Republic” by Shaak Ti in an argument with Nala Se regarding Fives and there is no rejoinder, so this acknowledgment of the clones being property of the Republic makes the Jedi complicit in their enslavement, as they partake in a flagrantly immoral command structure that sent slave soldiers to their deaths.

My response:

Tone and context are everything. There's an intonation on the word "property" when Shaak Ti says it. She isn't saying:

"Fives is property of the Republic."

She's saying:

"Correction! Technically, Fives is 'property' of the Republic."

She's taking Nala Se's cold, callous term and turning it around on Se with a technicality to score a point and pull rank, in order to save Fives' life. The subtext isn't "Fives is my slave," it's "you don't get to take this living being's life without my say-so."

Ti is regurgitating Nala Se's lingo to tell her to shut the fuck up.

In-universe, "there is no rejoinder" because Fives is aware of this subtext and knows Shaak Ti's in his corner. His life was on the line and Shaak Ti saved him.

Out-of-universe, "there is no rejoinder" because it's the ending of a 22-minute episode from a children's TV show 😃 and the point of the scene isn't to argue semantics about the ownership of the clones it's to save Fives' life. The beats of the scene can be boiled down to:

Nala Se argues fervently for Fives to die.

Shaak Ti is like "stfu no, I'm taking him to Coruscant"

Fives is grateful that Shaak Ti saved his life.

If the argument Nala Se used was, I dunno... "he must be terminated because the virus is contagious" then the beats of the scene would play out the same. Because again: the narrative, the story being told in this episode, ends with Shaak Ti coming in with the clutch and saving Fives.

The lore/sci-fi-ness of it all are mere details to move this children's story along.

You can read the rest of my response here, but since then, the user expanded on their point, explaining that while they acknowledge that Fives knows Shaak Ti's in his corner, what they meant is that there is no rejoinder from Nala Se. If it wasn't true that Fives was "property of the Republic", Nala Se would have said so in her cold and clinical terms.

Thus, for them, the point still stands.

And, uh, I'm not sure it does. Because the episode right before, Nala Se does counter Shaak Ti's argument by saying "nu-uh, the clones are property of the Kaminoans and we're leasing them to you."

So at some point, we either:

Point and go "IT'S A PLOT HOLE, BAD WRITING!" and acknowledge the point is thus moot.

Headcanon our way through this, theorizing that this point of semantics was argued by Shaak Ti and Nala Se and subsequently solved off-screen, in-between the two episodes. In which case, Shaak Ti's word on the subject is indeed final.

Acknowledge that this is a 22-minute story for kids, it was the end of the episode, and they needed Shaak Ti to come up with a technicality so as to save Fives without seeming unreasonable, and this is the best the writers could come up with.

I'm gonna go ahead and take option #3.

But, anon, this reaction of yours does open the door on a bigger point I've argued before.

All I did was bring proper context back to Shaak Ti's words, when they had been taken out of it.

And in discussion about the Jedi, this gets done very often. A sentence - or even words within one - will get plucked out of context and lore or fanon will form around it.

Here's some examples.

"Obi-Wan said that Anakin is pathetic!"

Context:

A pathetic life form.

He's comparing Anakin to Jar Jar, y'all.

AKA someone who had been exiled and was later about to be executed when they found him. AKA someone who has pathos, who inspires pity. Aka someone PATHETIC.

George himself describes Vader as pathetic.

That's because "pathetic" isn't just a judgmental term.

Resulting interpretation: Obi-Wan isn't saying Anakin is "ew, pathetic!" he's disagreeing with Qui-Gon's tendency to pick up strays and fails to see the point of them tagging along on the mission. He is proved wrong later and this ties in to his character arc about learning to see the value in listening to Guide archetype characters like Jar Jar or Ep. 1 Anakin.

"Yoda said the Jedi are arrogant."

Context:

Obi-Wan is bitching about Anakin being arrogant due to being so skillful, and Yoda tells Obi-Wan:

Resulting interpretation: Yoda is speaking in riddles, as per usual. He's being cheeky and implicitly telling Obi-Wan that he can be arrogant too sometimes, in his own Yoda-esque way.

Yoda is not "lamenting how far the Jedi have fallen". It's just another way of saying "we're all human, nobody's perfect."

"Mace said he doesn't trust Anakin."

Context:

Obi-Wan: “Anakin did not take to his assignment with much enthusiasm.” Mace: “It’s very dangerous putting them [Anakin & Palpatine] together. I don’t think the boy can handle it.”

Resulting interpretation: Anakin - not, by his own admission, the most subtle Jedi - is being asked to secretly spy on someone he considers a close friend, a mentor, a father even... aka someone who'll read Anakin like an open book (which is exactly what ends up happening).

Would you trust Anakin with that mission?

Because I sure as hell wouldn't. And that's what Mace is saying.

If it's "fucking disgusting" to point out the context in each of the above situations, during a Star Wars analysis or discussion, I fail to see why.

[castiwls]

"your my brother till the end of times. even after that"

Being anakin skywalker’s younger sister...

Note; this is incredibly long and goes through all the prequels. my requests are open

You’re two years younger than him meaning you both grew up veryyy close.

He would teach you how to build and fix things whenever the shop was quieter. He let you help with building threpio.

“The blue one goes here, see.” Your brother turned his head to grin at you. You nodded at him from over his shoulder. “Soooo the red one goes there?” You questioned pointing to another spot on the torso. Your brother smiled brightly at you and nodded. “Yeah, see not so hard.”

Over time you got better and better until you were almost just as good as your brother at fixing things.

You were 7 when a strange man showed up asking for parts to fix his ship. While your brother seemed intrigued by the girl who was with him, you were very much intrigued by the tall man with the strange accent.

When he told you he was a Jedi you were almost star-struck. Your mother had told you stories about them but to actually meet one was amongst your wildest dreams.

You were even more starstruck when one night he found that not just your brother but you also were force-sensitive. This led to your brother winning yours and his freedoms in the race.

Though this meant you had to leave your mom :( 

You still had your brother though.

Your first time in space was something you’d never forget. You spent most of the trip back to Coruscant planted in front of one of the windows.

Halfway through the trip the other Jedi who Qui-Gon had introduced you to as Obi-Wan joined you by the window. 

He told you about the order and about Coursant.

“What is it like?” You turned your attention from the window to look at the man beside you. “What is what like?” Obi-Wan asked looking down at you. “Coursant,” You frowned thinking for a moment. “I heard a smuggler say it was like a concrete jungle. I’ve never seen a jungle though.” The Jedi let out a small laugh. “Well there are lots of buildings but I'm not sure about the jungle part.”

You decided you liked him pretty quickly and stuck by his side for the rest of the trip. 

(time skip)

After Qui-Gon’s death, both you and your brother were slightly worried about your future with the Jedi. While Obi-wan took on your brother another Jedi stepped forward to take you.

You and Anakin stayed close over your time in the order. You noticed the way your brother's temper could flare at times but put it down to stress.

You were off planet when Anakin told you he was going back to Tatooine to see your mom. You decided to follow him.

Finding out she had remarried was a shock but you were glad that she had gotten out of slavery.

Anakin confided in both you and Padme that he’d killed the Tuskans after finding your mother. 

“You killed them?” You stared at your brother, a slight feeling of horror running through you. You could feel his anger through the force, it sent chills through your body. Anakin nodded his face hard as he looked between you and Padme. He’d killed them out of anger yes but fear also. What if they came after you? 

You were concerned but due to your mom's death being so raw you kept your mouth shut about what Anakin had done. You didn't wanna risk losing him. 

After your mom's death, Anakin seemed to hang around you more, even more so when he was knighted.

Obi-wan noticed your brother’s change in behaviour when it came to you. Anakin would try and take you off solo missions or force himself onto your missions once you were knighted and given your own battalion in the war.

He eventually questioned you but you simply brushed it off as him just being nervous.

“He’s not used to me doing things alone.” You shrugged looking over to the man who was walking beside you. “You're not alone though, you have a battalion with you. Your brother needs to let go of this fear, it's not healthy.”

Because of Anakins behaviour, you started to get put on more missions with him and Obi-Wan. You didn’t mind though.

You were the only person aware of Anakin and Padme’s marriage and as a result her pregnancy. You were ecstatic that you were gonna be an aunt.

You helped with the naming process for the baby(s). 

During this time you noticed Anakin was spending more time with the Chancellor, something which raised a few red flags. Padme confided in you about his behaviour change, she’d noticed him becoming more on edge with each passing day.

You tried to talk to him but he just brushed you off claiming it was just the stress from the war.

“You're acting different. You can talk to me you know, im your sister.” You bumped his shoulder smiling slightly. Anakins smile in return was weak. He took a breath. “I keep having these dreams. Dreams where Padme dies in childbirth.” He looked down at you, his eyes desperate. “I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose her.”

After that conversation, you kept a closer eye on him. You could see his stress levels rising with his dream and the council not granting him the rank of Master.

Things seemed to calm down for a small while until things changed. When order 66 was called you’d been in the temple doing reports.

The sounds of blasters pulled you from your data pad. Your eyebrows furrowed as the door to the archives flew open. “Anakin?” Your brother's face was hard as he pulled you from your chair. He said nothing as he led you down the hallway towards his quarters. You watched in horror as blaster fire rang out around you but he refused to stop. Finally reaching his quarters the door flew open. “Stay here. I’ll come back when it’s safe.”

You were slightly scared and very confused as you tried to make sense of what you’d seen. The clones had turned but why?

You also realised very quickly that your brother had locked you in his room:)))

Luckily you had your comn and managed to make contact with Obi-Wan. After awhile he and Yoda deemed it safe enough to go back to the temple.

At this point, he’d seen your brother pledge his allegiance to Palpatine but had no idea how to break the news. 

When he did tell you it was as if your whole world crashed down. He locked you in his quarters to keep you away while he killed the Jedi in the temple.

You chose not to go to Mustafar and instead stayed with Bail. He explained to you Padme’s plan to start a rebellion against the chancellor and offered you a space if you wanted. You agreed.

“She was right. This was his plan all along.” Your head rested on your hand as you sniffled slightly. “He was always gonna overthrow the republic.” Bail nodded rubbing a hand on your shoulder. “If the council didn’t see it how were you supposed to.” He let out a sigh pushing the data pad closer. “But we don’t have to sit and watch.”

You freaked when Obi-Wan and Padme came back without Anakin. You gathered what had happened to your brother simply from the look Obi-wan gave you as he carried Padme off the ship.

Having to watch her die without being able to hold her children. You were able to barely keep it together while the droids checked the babies over.

“They were both so excited.” You smiled sadly down at the baby in your arms. Luke grabbed at your thumb making a small noise. “There never gonna get the chance to raise their kids.” Obi-wan let out a sigh reaching over to pull you into a hug. At this, you finally broke down. All the emotions that you’d been hiding broke free as you sobbed.

They decided to give you the final say on where the twins ended up. You knew Bail would take care of Leia and while you wanted to keep Luke you knew it wasn’t practical. 

You ended up going with Bail back to Alderaan where you both began building the foundations for the rebellion. 

[wickedwitchofthegalaxy]

Foreign Feelings

Pairing: Anakin(ROTS)XFem!reader

Warnings~ NSFW, 18+, minors DNI, oral sex (M!receiving), hair pulling, dirty talking, praise kink, dom/sub dynamics

Word count: 1.6K

Summary: All the smut and little plot 😝

~

Credit: This is my own spin off to a story I read on here and I can’t find the story again, so please, please text me for inspo credit!

P.S. Also this is my first story since I started up writing again! Please feel free to send me a DM with suggestions or advice! Banner at the end by @cafekitsune !

~

Enjoy 🖤

~

"I’ve never done this before,"

You lowly admit, the rush of adrenaline pulsing through your veins as you sink to your knees on Anakin’s bedroom floor. Panic and excitement warred within you, mingling with a heady anticipation of the unknown. As you both surrendered to the electric tension that had been building between you, a whirlwind of thoughts raced through your mind - are you ready to embrace the unknown, or are you merely a passenger on this journey of forbidden desire?

Amidst the chaos of your emotions, one thing remains clear - in this moment, you feel truly alive. Being naked and this vulnerable in front of Anakin was not only a new experience but a thrilling one as well. His thumb traces your bottom lip as he lets you wrestle his pants off. The riveting touch of his rough fingers against your silk-like skin sends coded messages throughout your nerves, igniting a firestorm of desire that attempts to consume you whole. His tongue glides along his bottom lip and you find yourself mesmerized by the way his lips got more attractive when he covered them in his spit. Not to mention the raw intensity of his gaze. Those eyes, his enchanting blue eyes, stare down at you. His glare sends a rush of heat flooding your cheeks followed by a flush of arousal, steadily adding to the boiling desire within you.

Every word— No— Every syllable that leaves your pretty pink lips seems to fan the flames kindling within him.

He needed you.

"You'll be perfect, y/n— Just—"

His words trail off into a low, deep growl but the expression in his eyes speak volumes as your hand tentatively wraps around him. Butterfly wings flutter in your stomach while nervousness churns within you. He rolls his head back and takes a deep, labored breath. As his hand quickly reaches out and tangles roughly in your hair, you feel a surge of electricity radiating from his touch, a tangible reminder of the hunger simmering between you. The urgency in his actions sends a shock racing down your spine, a mixture of fervor and anxiety starting to pool in the front of your mind as he pushes you closer to his pulsing cock.

"Mmm," Anakin's mouth betrays him as you take his tip into your wet lips. The sweetness of his precum travels through your tastebuds as you swirl around him, trying to take more of him in. His cock makes your mouth feel full and warm as his hand in your hair guides you. Your thoughts cloud quickly as you let yourself fall into your own sense of pleasure.

You glance up to catch a glimpse of the lovely Jedi; his stomach flexing and sweat glistens on his bare skin while his left hand holds the front of his robe lazily to his chest. His flush lips are parted in awe and those beautiful blue eyes were staring down at you. The feeling of having all of his undivided attention makes your core tighten, and you use the feeling of satisfaction to push your throat further around his cock.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s it,” his tone is smooth and it rings through your ears, erupting a small chill that races down your neck. The scruff of his pubes grazes your lip as his hair-wrapped hand holds your head firmly in place. Your throat starts to contract, begging you for air as lines of drool trail down from the corners of your mouth. A sound croaks from your throat you’d never heard before, and his grip tightens on your hair. He quickly yanks you off of him, oxygen filling your lungs with a stab as the sharp pain from his pull elicits a small gasp. Coughing and trying to catch your breath you look up at him, unsure of what had gone wrong.

"What? What’s wrong?” You question him hoarsely, worriying you had somehow messed up.

“What happened?" You clutch your hands to his muscular thighs as you stare intently, searching his face for an answer. Had you done something wrong? Did you mess up? Your thoughts fill with worry.

His eyes seem to darken, they’re cloudy with unspoken words, while his mouth remains slightly ajar. You observe, a pang of uncertainty gnawing at your insides as you meet his gaze.

Doubt knots within you as you awaite his next move. His hand still tangled in your hair, he chuckles. The low rumble of his laugh sounds of the harshest silk yet glides gracefully through the air and melts into your ears and runs down your spine.

"You said this was your first time?" He questions.

You nod your head in agreement.

'How is that possible?' He thought to himself, 'I felt the back of her throat. I felt it. She didn’t fight when I force her to stay choking.'

His thoughts run wild with a trillion ideas, excitement sparkling in those darkened blue eyes. His hand tugs tightly at your hair which forces your head back with a snap. His next words come out… Well, in no other way than demanding.

"Open."

A jolt courses through you and having no reason not to oblige, you open your mouth, letting your tongue drape across your bottom lip. With each breathless moment that passes, you find yourself teetering on the edge of surrender, torn between the intoxicating pull of Anakin and the lingering echoes of hesitation. He begins smacking his tip on your tongue, a wet thwacking sound filling his small chamber.

“Just-Relax” His voice was sweet yet holds a sternness to it that made those pestering noises of hesitation in your mind quickly die off.

His mouth slowly parts again, a sight you’re growing to love, as he guides his cock into your mouth ever so slightly just to pull it back out, raking it across your spit covered tongue. His other hand leaves your hair and grips his robe tightly, trying to keep it on his chest and out of your way.

“You know you messed up,” Anakin’s hips rock into you, small groans leaving his plump lips.

“Now that I know you can take me, you’re never leaving my sight,”

The words left his lips and flowed through the air like a cold breeze on a hot day, it made goosebumps trickle all over your body.

The taste of his cock was foreign to your tastebuds, you weren’t sure how to feel about the new taste. Anakin's grip on your hair becomes increasingly tighter as he pushes you to take his full length into your throat once again. The sharp pull on your scalp was minuscule compared to the fire burning in your stomach. This time was harder than the last; it was like he doubled in girth and size in the small amount of time he wasn’t in your mouth. Disregarding your attempts to breathe he held you firmly, staring down at you. Those blue orbs were packed full with lust as his mouth continued to murmur slurs and praises one after the other.

"Fuck. Mmm shit… yes, like that, such a good girl," He could feel every time your throat retracted; it was sending him clear over the edge as he let himself sit in the back of your throat. Roughly, he thrusts his hips into your face, getting as deep into your tight little throat as he could before quickly pulling back his hips and forcing your head off and backwards. The sudden exit from your mouth has you letting out a deep cough, drool trails down your chin and begins to cover your neck. You try taking multiple deep breaths to regain some kind of composure, but Anakin didn’t want to see you composed.. No, quite the opposite. He wanted to see you completely overwrought and undone.

Without warning his firm grasp on your hair draws you back onto his dripping wet member with relentless urgency, leaving you no time to prepare as he fucks your throat at an impatient pace. When he wasn’t holding his cock as deep as it would get in the back of your throat, he was holding you tightly in place as he rocked his hips into you, desperately trying to chase his climax.

Your eyes burned with tears and your throat cried for release. The gags and chokes that were leaving your abused mouth were sounds of unholy scripture to his ears and it gave him exactly what he needed to release deep into your throat. He threw his head back as his groans ripple out, he practically growls your name.

It didn’t take much for you to swallow his load. He was so deep into your throat that he was practically in your stomach by the time his cum flowed out of him. Even after his release, his hand stays thoroughly clutching the back of your head, not letting you move an inch off his cock as he pulses in your mouth.

“Oh yeah, you’re mine,”

Anakin’s words were hazy to your ears as his chest heaved with deep labored breaths. Your lungs beg for oxygen and your body reacts to its signals for help. Your arms shot up to his thick thighs, trying to push off. He refuses to free his hold for what seems like an eternity, though in reality only a few seconds pass as he keeps you in place.

With a forceful tug he jerks your head back, tilting your face up to meet his gaping gaze. Your face is covered in spit and tears. He can’t help but admire you, thinking, you have never looked more beautiful, never more stunning than right now. His chest continues to heave as he drops his robe down, his other hand remaining firmly around your hair. Your eyes flicker up to his, fluttering as you try desperately to catch your breath. Anakin, in turn, has never looked more extraordinary in your eyes, the sweat glimmering on his eyebrows, his lips curved into a delicious smirk.

That smirk plastered on his face deepens as he surveys the masterpiece he has created on your face. A scene straight out of a movie, one he couldn’t take his eyes off. His sapphire blue orbs dance with ecstasy, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he attempts to slow his racing heart rate.

“Your mouth will only ever know my dick,” He said proudly.

“Do you understand?” His words echo in your mind, a heady mix of validation and vulnerability washes over you in waves as he used his now free hand to caress your liquid-covered cheeks.

[prettyacademia00]

aquatic people in the jedi temple

considering the wide variety of species in the jedi temple, there are definitely bound to be a range of needs by each, such as aquatic people, nocturnal people, blind individuals (like the miraluka), those with other disabilities, etc. as such, there's probably accommodations for each of them.

headcanon then: there's an area of the temple that is like a massive manmade pool, or multiple pools, where the community of aquatic species lives in, having their respective sleeping quarters in pods along the "walls" of the pool, and an area in the middle for other recreational or educational purposes

the exterior of the pool has a hallway outside of water that goes around and connects to each room, and maybe each room has a window that is like a pocket that connects the area with air to the water like a tiny ship moon pool and the aquatic person can peek out their "window" to speak with the land people

the central area of the pool has spaces for eating, recreational purposes, classrooms, and meditation spaces, all of this so that those who are made for water can relax, eat, sleep, and do their day-to-day tasks and hobbies comfortably

still, not all are the same, which means the tech that they used in the mon cala episodes in sw:tcw were developed, or simply advanced, by the jedi for the sake of having land species hang out with their friends and lineage members underwater, or there are a lot of oxygen "bubbles" for them to use

this is especially great when thinking about aquatic species forgetting about their need for water, since they're technically supposed to be in water at all times, and i can imagine land species jedi hanging out with their aquatic friends, masters, or padawans above water, noticing that they're dehydrated, and then dragging them to the pools as they grab an underwater suit or mask

picture this: padawan bant eerin being super focused on her studies and not paying attention to her health needs for the moment, and obi-wan pulls her and her (waterproof) study materials into the pools to chill and study underwater

padawan nahdar and kit meditating together in the center of the pools, or practicing with their specially-made lightsabers for underwater combat

jedi knights and masters visiting aquatic younglings and playing with them in the water before they're fully adjusted to being out of water

just a space made for the respective needs of all jedi!

[skywalkr-nberrie]

There are some gems for Anidala in the Junior ROTS novel (which is basically a simplified version of the movie and novel) and I once again wish to dump it onto our fandom.

Padmé and Anakin reuniting after 5 months, Anakin saying he feels complete by just holding and kissing his wife and her telling him that now she’s “whole again” 🥹 it’s giving “they are a pair, please do not separate.”

Anakin not being able to keep his hands off his wife, Padmé being the only sane one in this pair and slipping away. The “patience, my handsome Jedi.” Anakin not caring and reaching for her again before Padmé can escape 🤣 and of course, slowly moving into the pregnancy reveal, Anakin senses something is off about Padmé, and she tells him how alone she’s felt ever since he left and that it was truly very hard for her. 🥺

Give these two a 6 month vacation twice a year every year, please and thank you.

(This passage is badly cropped here, forgive me.)

I love this part in the novel because it sheds light a bit on how Padmé felt when Anakin told her of his vision. In the movie and original novel, it mostly centred around her trying to comfort Anakin, but here we see that Anakin is letting Padmé know he saw a vision about her dying, and Padmé becomes visibly tense and feels a “cold chill.”

Her natural instinct was to reach for her Japor Snippet that Anakin had carved out for her and I think this indicates how this tiny piece of wood brought her so much hope, and comfort in her times of despair. It makes sense why she was holding onto it so tightly when she was dying and giving birth. I feel like it played as a substitute for Anakin’s presence.

I’ve seen some people ask about why Padmé was crying during the Temple burning scene in the movie, and I never thought it could be more obvious. In the original script for ROTS this was the interaction between Padmé and 3pO:

So we know Padmé was crying about Anakin after 3pO confirmed he returned to the Temple. And in the above passage I posted from the Junior novel, we see how Padmé was indeed worried sick over Anakin, feeling a wave of relief when she sees a Jedi starfighter land on her Veranda. She rushes over to Anakin, asking him if he’s alright, that she needs to hear from his mouth that he’s okay, despite that she can see that he’s physically alright and doesn’t at all look to be harmed.

I simply love this passage because of the faith Padmé has in Anakin’s loyalty to her, and how well she knows him. Padmé never once doubted him and it’s astonishing to me that people say she trusted others over him, when this is her innermost true feelings for him. And the way that she knows Anakin is loyal to people and not politics. She knew he was loyal to her, and she knew he was loyal to OW, which is what triggers her question about him. And because of this, she feels the an odd way about the way he mentions the Senate and the Chancellor. She feels her real husband slipping into something she can’t recognize and it scares her.

Padmé at this point has lost almost all her faith in the Republic, feeling the war will never end so I just love how she narrates here that knows she can believe in Anakin even if she lost faith in everything else. Once again the subtle mention of the unwavering trust that Padmé has in Anakin.

One of the most painful moments in the movie, praise to this passage shedding more light on Padmé’s feelings and anger towards OW for all he’s saying about Anakin, it is beautifully captured. The way she looks at OW accusingly, begging him to deny her accusations, overcome with the horror that he’s about to kill the love of her life. It’s too much for her, and this is the start of the end.

(This is it for now. There are more I wanted to post but I’m at my limit 🥲 I’ll probably make a follow up post again.) - 🌈☔️

[multi-fandom-imagines8]

Torn by the Dark

Part 1

Summary: Captured by the Empire, you’re brought before Darth Vader. Standing defiant, you sense a familiar presence in him. And as he tries to bury his past, the walls around him begin to crumble.

WC: 2 K.

A/N: This is an unburnt Vader/Anakin AU.

You can read part 2 here. Fictober Challenge

After the fall of the Jedi, you had gone into hiding on Jedha, adopting an alias. Over time, you forged a rebel cell, one that had become a thorn in the Empire’s side. But, your base was discovered, and although you managed to evacuate your people, you couldn’t save yourself.

Captured by stormtroopers, you were brought before the Emperor’s enforcer: Darth Vader.

You had prepared yourself for death the moment you were seized. But as you were forced to your knees in front of the Dark Lord, something strange stirred in your senses. A presence- familiar, but elusive. You couldn’t quite place it.

Vader stood before you, silent, as if contemplating something beyond mere interrogation. His black mask obscured his features, but you could feel his intense gaze studying you. 

He signaled to the nearby troopers. “Leave us.” His deep, mechanical voice cut through the room, cold and commanding. The troopers complied, leaving you alone with him.

He took a few steps toward you, his heavy boots thudding against the metal floor. “So, you are the rebel leader we’ve been looking for-” His voice was measured, but something lurked beneath it- curiosity? Recognition?

“You won’t get a word from me” you snapped, your chin lifting in defiance.

He tilted his head slightly, as though amused. Your defiance. It’s familiar, he thought. He was used to resistance, used to prisoners refusing to cooperate.

“Is that so?” His tone dropped, venomous. “You underestimate me, rebel. I have methods you can’t even begin to imagine.”

“Try all you want,” you shot back, eyes blazing. “I’d rather than betray the cause.” 

For a moment, he stood still, and you almost thought you heard a faint chuckle beneath his mask. You hadn’t changed, not really, he thought. His voice softened, but the danger remained palpable. 

“You are brave, I’ll give you that. But bravery won’t do you any good here.” He stepped closer, looming over you. “You think you can defy me? Resist my power?” His voice dripped with mockery. “You’d be a fool.”

“Go ahead,” you said, though a chill ran down your spine. “Do your worst.”

“You have spirit,” he acknowledged, his words betraying a tinge of something softer. He began pacing slowly around you, measuring you like a predator sizing up its prey. “But spirit alone won’t save you. You’ll break eventually. They all do.”

He stopped in front of you, gloved fingers lifting your chin with deliberate care. He could sense your fear- not overwhelming, but enough to remind him of the control he held. Though your fear wasn’t of him, it was of him prying out something vital. “You will tell me what I want to know. One way or another.” He knew your spirit would not break easily; you would put up a fight. But he also knew that if he used the full extent of his power and resources, it would either force you to talk or kill you. And he didn’t want to risk the latter.

Your heart pounded, but you held his gaze. “Your mind tricks won’t work on me, Lord Vader” you spat, your voice hardening.

His grip tightened for a brief moment before he released you, stepping back. His head tilted once again, as if trying to unravel something about you. He knew he could utilize your fear against you, but he couldn’t bring himself to use the same brutal techniques he’d used on others. Not  that it would work on you. The thought of hurting you twisted something inside him.

He turned away, trying to gather his thoughts. He needed something else, something subtle.

“Tell me, rebel,” he began, his voice probing, almost calculated. “Do you have anyone to care for? Family? Friends?” His voice lowered, something sharp cutting through his words.  “A lover, perhaps?” He winced internally at the last words. Why did he ask that? The idea bothered him more than it should have. He shouldn’t care. But deep inside, he did.

“No,” you said, your voice tinged with hatred. “You killed them all.”

The words cut through him. Though his voice remained cold and emotionless, deep down, they stung. He could sense your pain and anger at him- at what he’d become. 

“So, you truly are alone,” he murmured, trying to regain control of the conversation. “No one left to care for, no one to care about you?” 

Ah, so that’s what he was going for. He wanted to make you feel vulnerable, exposed. But you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. “I’m not alone. There are others like me. And eventually, we’ll win, even if it takes a hundred years. The light always wins.”

He scoffed, the sound coming out as a low mechanical rumble. He was irritated by your unwavering faith in the light, by your belief in hope. It made him feel things he didn’t want to. “You’re a fool if you truly believe that. The light may have been strong in the past, but the dark side will always prevail. Look at the Jedi- they were weak and naive, and their light has faded.”

“No,” you said quietly. “The dark side is weak. You act on impulse, out of fear and anger. You have no control. That’s why you’ll never win.”

His fist clenched at his side, frustration mounting. “You know nothing, rebel” his voice rising. “It’s the strength of the dark side that crushed the Jedi and rules the galaxy. The light side’s lies kept its followers weak, never reaching their full potential. Now, they are gone, and those who remain- and dare resist- will perish.”

“As long as there’s tyranny,” you promised, “there will always be resistance.”

His breath quickened behind the mask, the tension between you palpable. “Those who resist will fall. And you will bow to me, willingly or not.”

You met his threat head-on. “I will never bow to you.”

He leaned down, his presence suffocating. He could sense the strength in you, but also the hint of vulnerability. “You will” he whispered, his voice low, almost a promise. They all do. Even the strongest, most willful, they all break at the end.” Though, a part of him didn't want you to. A part of him wanted you to remain strong, to resist like you always had.

“Not me. I have nothing to lose. You made sure of that. Do.Your.Worst” you challenged.

He drew back, and though you couldn’t see his face, you sensed his grin beneath the mask. He always loved a challenge, especially when it was you who challenged him. 

“As you wish,” he said softly. “You will regret it.” 

He called back the troopers, ordering them to take you away. As they dragged you off, he gave one final order: “No one touches her. No one, no matter what.”

As they dragged you to the prison cell, you knew you had to act fast. You made your move, breaking free and rushing through the halls. The escape was going well- until you reached the hangar.

Vadar strode in, his fury palpable, destroying everything in his way as his heavy footsteps echoed off the walls. He barked orders for your recapture. 

Normally, he would execute any prisoner attempting escape or crossing a certain line, but since it was you, he couldn’t- something was holding him back. This mask he wore, these walls he’d built, they were starting to crack.

“You really thought you could escape?” The frustration in his voice was visible, though he tried hard to mask it. “You are a fool if you think you can run from me.”

“I will, or die trying” you shot back, using the Force to pull his lightsaber from his belt. You ignited it and cut down the approaching troopers, before launching yourself at him. But he was faster, catching you mid-air, slamming you against the wall with the Force as he retrieved his lightsaber.

Other troopers came running, pinning you to the ground, and you yelled at him. “Fight me, you coward!”

He glared down at you, his anger rising at your insolence. He could easily take you down, ending this fight with a single swipe of his lightsaber. Hell, he didn’t even need it. He could simply use the Force. But, something in him craved this- the thought of you fighting against him again. So, he entertained the idea.

“You dare challenge me?” he asked, wanting to hear your confirmation.

“I do. I challenge you to duel.” That might have been the stupidest decision you’d ever made, knowing how powerful and undefeated he was.

He sensed your conflict and cautiously asked again, “You really think you stand a chance against me?”

But you didn’t back down. “I don’t care. Give me a lightsaber, and we’ll let our skills decide.”

He stood still for a moment before commanding one of the troopers. “Very well.. Bring her a lightsaber.”

The troopers exchanged glances, hesitant and uncertain. One dared to speak, “Lord Vader, are you sure-” Before he could finish, Vader’s hand shot out, Force-choking him into silence. His lifeless body dropped next to you.

“I said, bring her a lightsaber!” he repeated, and a second trooper scrambled to obey.

The silence was menacing as the two of you stood face-to-face– well, face to mask, but you could feel something in the air shift. He was feeling…nervous. And it wasn’t because he thought you might stand a chance against him. It was something else, and it bothered you not knowing.

You could feel his gaze boring into you from behind his mask, and something about it made you anxious.

As the trooper handed you the weapon, stepping back, Vader spoke again. “Are you ready?”

“Your move, Vader.”

“No matter what happens, no one interferes,” he commanded his troops. They stepped back, watching from the background.

He ignited his blade, the red glow bathing the room in an eerie light. He circled you slowly, watching your every breath, every twitch of your hand. It was like he was testing you, seeing if you still had it. 

Growing tired of him circling you, you struck, and he blocked easily. 

While you had improved since the last time he’d seen you, he still knew you like the back of his hand.

You knew he wasn’t giving it his all- he was toying with you. Every move you made, he anticipated, his skills superior but controlled. 

It was only after you took an unexpected approach, catching him off guard, that you noticed it- a familiar move, a twist of the saber that only one person you knew had ever used.

A gasp escaped you, your eyes widening. “That move…only one person I knew used that.” 

You circled him, and his voice hardened, trying to deflect. “Are you going to keep talking, or fight me?” 

But the realization opened your eyes to other things you hadn’t noticed earlier. “You lack patience.” you said, stepping back slightly.

“Do not mistake my restraint for lack of patience.” he snapped, his irritation barely masked. “I am simply enjoying this dance.”

Wanting to test your theory, you pushed further. You used a technique only Anakin had known how to counter- a move the two of you had perfected together. His saber met yours in a clash of sparks, and for a moment, you felt it again. The presence. Anakin. 

Panting, you stepped back, lightsaber lowered. “Who are you really?” you demanded. “ And why haven’t you killed me yet?”

For the first time, Vader hesitated. His voice was quieter now, almost introspective. He could deny it, pretend he didn't know what you were talking about, but the truth was obvious. You knew who he was- who he had been.

Still, he needed to be certain. “What do you think you know?” he asked, his voice guarded.

“There’s no use fighting you” you said, lowering your lightsaber completely and deactivating it.

He was taken aback, and though the mask concealed his face, you could sense the sadness radiating from him. Memories of the past flashed before his eyes. “You know who I am” he said, his tone still cold, though it wavered slightly. “You know the truth.” Slowly, he lowered his weapon, following your lead.

You stared at him, disarmed in more ways than one. “Anakin?”

Tags: @mother-dragon-and-her-hatchlings @dcrthbaeder @aoi-targaryen

[tesalicious2]

I feel like we need to appreciate Thire more, so this is for you buddy (other commanders are mentioned bc they have to be)

Thire is 9 at the start of the clone wars and quickly rises the ranks

He is very temperamental but has developed a certain patience that makes him seem calm

He is fact not calm and has a short fuse; he just bottles it up and will make your life a living hell through mild annoyances

Think of a robber who steals your tv remotes batteries, except he steals all the batteries in the house and makes buying any more batteries horrible and trying experience

Many GAR commanders are afraid of him and those that aren’t should be

Of the commanders group he is the ‘angry asshole’

Fox is ‘tired/bitch/rude asshole’, thorn is the ‘nice asshole’, hound is ‘obnoxious asshole’, and stone is ‘quiet/creepy (he stares a lot to convey his displeasure) asshole’

Thire is in charge of Senator escorts, specializing with off world missions. He works closest to Thorn who oversees the senate and the least with Stone (oversees the prison)

He has the most contact with the Jedi and somehow became Yoda’s favorite, getting specific requests for him

He has mixed feelings bc Yoda’s not bad company but he’s used as a sort of chair the whole time?

Since he’s the youngest, the others are very protective of him and this does annoy him but he loves with it

Make no mistake, Thire will easily commit murder

Stones face is all kinds of messed up, he’s missing a cheek on his left side exposing the teeth from a mad Trandosian during a riot turned mass escape attempt (they failed)

He keeps his head shaved because of the patchy growth around scars

He’s got so many scratch marks and chunks missing from things like that

This also applies to the rest of the Prison Guard, they are the most scarred group of corries

The prison has ARC troopers on staff constantly to discourage (they have taken down many a prisoner and use unconvential weapons to do it) riots and escapes

Though they rotate, ARC Trooper Whip is the only ARC who is a permanent fixture

Like his name suggests, he uses whips and is *incredibly* skilled with them, they are also electro whips (he can control whether they use electricity or not)

Hound is very bad with people and is the kind of person who can like perfectly understand animals

Thire has a mean streak and finds scaring newbies and visitors incredibly hilarious

His favorite massif is Runt (an exotic breed that’s twice the size of a normal massif (about 6’ standing on his hind legs)) and twwith the handler Trigger (has a height defect, being 2.5 in smaller than standard)

Both are pretty chill and Runt is especially lazy so they are free to get his victims the most

Runt looks scary as his spines are much longer and sharper, with an extra row of teeth and darker skin

This includes using sleeping ARF and massiffs to do so. He did this by getting his victim to wake up an ARF trooper. However, they often sleep with massifs. Often with their spines toward outside for defense and the person against the wall to watch for enemies. If they smell you first, they will bite your hand. So, Thire watches as deep and angry growl comes from the darkness and the shriek that comes from his victim.

Thire has a problem with the CSF often coming in on MP matters or dumping non MP matters onto them

Once a bomb went off incredibly close to 79s, a hole was put in the wall and several were injured. A Guard Clone duo was blasted through the wall and the medics who had been drinking were pulled away into keeping them alive

CSF shows up and is like ‘not important, blah blah’. Everyone is obvi pissed and eventually Thire arrives to deal with it

He just straight up says ‘you’re impeding an military investigation of a terrorist bombing. Move or you will be arrested and criminal charges will be pressed.’

[padawansuggest]

Took a shower (thank the lord right) and accidentally created a new AU in my noggin be warned this one is super wild. Includes: Baby-Wan and ouchies and time travel

Obi-Wan goes back in time (whatever maybe he did it himself maybe someone did it to him maybe he did it on accident but it’s post ANH okay) and suddenly finds himself in his toddler body.

You know what his first thought is? Cody. And absolute grief because his soulmate HAD been there in the force with him but now he’s gone. So what does Cody make him think of? Jango. Which means he’s all ughhhhhhhhh I have to go save him, and manages to mindcontrol some guy into getting him off planet. So here he is four whole years old with all the adult emotions trapped in a baby body what can go wrong??? Pirates. Obviously.

Frankly the only reason he doesn’t feel bad about the guy he mind controlled cause he was already gonna end up here so. Whoops.

So who manages to find them of all the damn people? Jaster’s entire ship headed to Korda Six (yes I’m going there the force said ‘I’m gonna give the gays everything they want’ and started with a happy baby’) but having been waylaid by a sudden four year old WITH A KNIFE AND FERAL STUPIDITY on the bridge. He says his name is Cody, he cut Montrose on his calve and it IS gonna require surgery and he bites everyone. Especially Jango. Who is only ten and crying because an ik’aad bit him and Jaster is very torn between giving Jango kisses for his ouchie and helping catch the toddler that knows how to escape through vents and is staging a one toddler zero men mutiny and is loudly telling everyone he’s going to the Jedi.

Maybe he’s possessed. Maybe they can just take him to the Jetii for a quick exorcism and play blaster-armor-saber for who gets the honor of adopting his feral ass.

Till they come across a pirate ship beating up a stranded ship and that’s just not nice so well shit they gotta save them.

Which is how they end up with a traumatized Captain and a stowaway toddler who’s demanding to see Jango once he realizes what ship he’s on. Jango is grumpily dragged in to see him, gets baby attached to his chest (listen he is so over babies now you can let go anytime he’s not interested in getting bit again) and then the vent to the medical room and a feral toddler with a knife comes flying out and demands to get his love back right this fucking instant.

Jaster finally gets a hold of him, disarms him, and puts him in time out before asking who taught him that word that’s not an ad’ika word!

Cody, repentant because adult emotions in a baby body fills you up so much, cries and asks for cuddles. Jaster gives him cuddles before putting in on a cot with Obi-Wan who promptly forgets Jango exists and gives Cody shy baby kisses and holds his hand. Jango is relieved to not be the center of attention for a moment. Till Jaster promptly realizes no one told Obi-Wan who Jango is, why did Obi ask for him?? Obi says he’s a Jetii master trapped in a baby’s body.

Yeah so possession it is. They call up the Jetii and ask if they can come over for exorcisms n chill, the Jetii say they can give them one better can you plz pick up some stranded Jetii along the way? Don’t worry they can assess the situation and see if they need to come in for it. It’s Master Windu and Padawan Billaba! What a surprise! Obi had no idea this could be so easy!

Anyways. So he’s having trouble talking because let’s just say I’ve decided so, so he sorta throws his mental shields down and starts projecting at people, which along with giving EVERYONE a headache, instead of just Mace for once, gives the force the chance to snap a BUNCH of bonds in place. Like a master-apprentice bond with Mace. And vod’e bonds with Depa and Jango. And a Buir bond with Jaster. And a full fledged soulmate bond with Cody.

Anyways. Mace thinks he’s decided three things: he’s gotta (not wants to, but has to) get the senate to let them make an outpost in Mandalorian space so him and Obi can be with Obi’s new dad and family, he does NOT want to be a council member anymore because this is a fucking mess that’s gonna turn into a 6 day meeting for them, and yes, they need to go to the temple.

Anyways. Make Cody a small child and give him a knife is my solution to a lot of things actually.

[aniseya]

i kinda think people need to take a step back and analyze certain aspects of fantasy and the stakes of the world it’s set in before outright calling a pairing abusive. power imbalances, toxicity, manipulation, are all things that can be exclusive to abuse, and a man who has been traumatized to see no other path than a side against the people who apparently took everything from him telling a girl who suffered the same that those people threw her away/the friends she made from it were essentially just cogs in the same machine that hurt her isn’t going to register to him as isolation.

to him, it’s just the truth.

the truth can be used in toxic ways, but to be considered horribly abusive he would have to have the clear mindset that the jedi are not all bad and he’s being misleading. he could very well be, but for now these words from him, though harsh, are just truth he’s reiterating to get her to unleash the pain the BOTH share. i’m not saying their relationship is without toxicity, because if you think about it the hierarchal systems of the jedi order versus any other jurisdiction can be considered toxic via power imbalances within them. but that’s the fun of fiction! i like toxicity! the dynamic even outside of shipping between qimir and osha is interesting!

let’s just all take a chill pill and look at this world from a gaze that is anything except from the real world we live in, ffs.