#dooku drabble

[papsiguesss]

Tarkin/Dooku drabblings: sickfic

So, I’ve been working on my Tarkin/Dooku storyline a bit and while my mind is bouncing from scene to scene without a care for chronology, I did manage to write down a whumpy sickfic moment where Tarkin finally admits that his torture at the citadel has proven more destructive than he lets on!

2778 words

Context: having sheltered Tarkin for a while now after taking him out of the Citadel, Dooku struggles to form any meaningful contact with his very distrustful companion. Returning to their safe hideout after some matters of diplomacy, he finds the Governor in sudden need of medical aid, however… no matter how much the other may say that he isn’t 🤭

(This is all thoroughly noncanonical, of course.)

At first, it seemed like a morning like all the others. Dooku, having returned to the house again after multiple matters of diplomacy, sat back as he breakfasted by himself, finally feeling a semblance of peace again after the constant deliberations. People sometimes really did tire him. He still strongly believed in the cause he was fighting for, but by the stars, having so much responsibility for said cause sometimes became a burden that was too heavy to bear.

He quietly observed the room, letting out a relieved sigh. Tarkin was not in the room with him, and he would not have expected otherwise. He was… a peculiar case. While the Count really wished to speak more with him, he also realised that the Governor needed a lot of space. And so, space was what he would give him.

He had observed strange habits in the captain’s behaviour ever since he had brought him to this little safe pocket. He shut himself off him his room, never entering another room when he knew that Dooku was there. Strangely, the Count had noticed that he would sometimes stare at him from a distance, the door leading too his room slightly ajar, but closing as soon as Tarkin would notice that he had been spotted. Dooku did not think much of it. If this had to be how the captain would warm up to him, then so be it.

Even with his guest’s strange behaviour though, the Count felt rather at ease in this little safe haven he had created. At first, he had mostly arranged it for Tarkin, but the longer he spent time here, the more he realised that he had been in need of it as well. And not only because he knew that there were Separatist extremists out there who wanted to see him killed because of him taking a prisoner out of the Citadel…

It was also because his entire mind was in need of rest. Only now did he realise how much this war was taking its toll on him, and it made him feel more tired than ever before.

Yes, he was very lucky to have this space indeed. Not only as a place where he could allow his old associate to heal, but also where he could unwind.

And, considering the current situation, he was in dire need of unwinding.

Dooku’s train of thought was interrupted by the shuffling sounds of footsteps entering the room, before they suddenly came to a halt. He looked over to the source of the noise, and smiled warmly as he saw Wilhuff Tarkin cautiously glaring at him from the other side of the room. “…Well, a welcome surprise indeed”, he said, finishing his breakfast and leaning back into his chair. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

The Governor did not return the Count’s smile. “…Nothing more than the fact that I was not aware that you had returned”, he muttered, before quietly stumbling over to get some food for himself.

Dooku narrowed his eyes. He could not help but notice that his companion’s words were ever so slightly slurred. He did not know Tarkin to be someone to carry himself so sullenly, either. Nor had his face been as pale the last time he had seen him.

…Something was off.

“…Are you feeling quite all right, Captain?”, he asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he kept observing the other’s unusual behaviour. The longer he kept watching, the more he realised that things were not just off, they were wrong. It was the way Tarkin’s hands and knees trembled. The dark circles under his eyes, the way his feet dragged as he walked.

Was he… sick?

The Governor’s body tensed up as he heard that question. He glanced behind him, a look of disdain in his eyes. “I slept poorly”, he responded, narrowing his eyes. “Is that enough for you to stop behaving like a nursemaid?”

The Count thought for a while, but he eventually shook his head. “Something’s going on with you”, he said. “Look, I know that I am untrustworthy in your eyes, but can you please be truthful for once? Remember, I brought you here to give you an opportunity to recover from what they did to you at the Citadel. I bear no ill will, and during your entire stay here there has been nothing to disprove that. Please, Governor.” He paused, standing up and taking a step towards the other. “Just let me know whether you are all right.”

As soon as the word Citadel had been said, Tarkin shuddered for a moment, his shoulders tensing up. He and Dooku stared at each other in silence for a while, the last bits of colour that were left draining from his face.

“…Burn salve”, he eventually mumbled.

A confused expression spread across the Count’s face. “…I don’t follow”, he said, narrowing his eyes.

The captain stumbled backwards a bit, before he regained his balance by leaning on the counter behind him. “I need burn salve”, he said. “I can take care of it by myself, but I…”

He suddenly paused, his teeth clenching as he keeled over, grabbing his shoulder and groaning out in agony. “Nnnnnngh…”, he growled, squeezing his eyes shut as he began to slump down against the counter. “I… I…”

Dooku’s eyes widened as he realised that the Governor was fainting. He rushed towards him, catching him in the nick of time before his head would hit the ground. Tarkin was still conscious, but the glazy look in his eyes proved that he might pass out at any moment. He winced as the Count caught him, faintly trying to struggle away before giving it up. “I’m… fine…”, he gasped, sweat dripping down his forehead.

He was met with a firm headshake from the Count. “No, you are not”, he said sternly as he picked him up and carried him towards his bedroom. “Your skin feels like hot coals, for goodness’ sake… What do they teach at the Imperial Navy, to simply ignore fevers for the greater good or something?”

The captain let out another groan as Dooku laid him down in bed, his eyes darting from place to place as he began to shiver. “I’ve… been through worse…”, he gasped. “I can get through this… there’s no need…”

The Count did not listen to those words. He took the bed’s blanket and tucked Tarkin in with it, all the while the other kept on protesting feverishly. He then went and put a cold towel on the Governor’s forehead, the captain’s words becoming more and more incoherent by the second until all he let out was unintelligible groans. “I know that you want to do everything by yourself,” Dooku said, crossing his arms, “but this once I am going to take care of you. So will you please tell me what ails you?”

Tarkin stayed silent for a while, his shaky breaths being the only sound that disturbed the silence.

The Count narrowed his eyes. “…It’s your burns, isn’t it?”

The Governor eventually nodded.

Dooku frowned, thinking deeply. “I’m going to have to take a look”, he said after a while. “I’ll be as quick as possible, I know you don’t like me touching you. It’s for your own good, remember?”

Tarkin winced away from the Count’s touch, hissing like a feral cat. “Don’t”, he snarled, panting heavily. “Don’t you… dare touch me… It’s nothing, I should be fine…”

Dooku’s head perked up as he heard the other say the word ‘should’. Did the word have no significant meaning, or did it tell that the captain felt pressured to stay strong? While the Count could give no answer to the question, he thought it wise to keep in mind. “Now look here”, he sighed. “The simple truth is that you are not fine. There is no shame about it, you are safe. You can allow yourself to be not fine. So please, just let me see what is wrong with you!”

The Governor narrowed his eyes. “Perhaps there is no shame in it in your eyes,” he groaned, “but that is not the case for me.” He began to struggle again, trying to get out of bed despite the shivers that he was experiencing becoming worse and worse.

Dooku raised his eyebrows. “How come?”, he asked, lifting up his hand and using the Force to have Tarkin’s blanket push him back into bed.

The captain curled up, clutching his shoulders as he fiercely glared at the Count. “…You would understand, had you been raised the same way I was”, he snarled, shuddering.

Sitting down on the bedside, Dooku looked down at his companion with pity. “…Not everything in the universe is one of your family’s trials, Governor”, he said quietly.

A dark expression spread across Tarkin’s face. “…You know nothing if you think that”, he muttered. He turned his back towards the Count, squeezing his eyes shut as the shivering would not stop. “Nothing, do you hear?!”

Dooku looked away, a sad expression on his face. No… perhaps he did not know much about how it felt for Tarkin. While growing up entirely detached from his family had been an entirely different pain by itself, he… was indeed not very familiar with the feeling of family pressure. Not the kind that the Governor was carrying, anyway. He had only known the Jedi Temple’s obligations growing up. He had heard faint stories of the militaristic training the Tarkin family would put its boys through, but he was nowhere near understanding the tenets or even the psychological consequences of said training. Well, psychologically speaking it was very obvious to see that it was mostly damaging, observing the man laying before him, but that was beside the point.

“I’m sorry”, he said, sighing. “You’re right, I know nothing about that. But I do know that no one is there to judge you right now. So I beg of you to make an exception for once…”

He turned towards the Governor again, expecting a snarky remark to be fired right back at him, but to his shock, no such thing came his way.

Instead, Tarkin had closed his eyes, sinking into the bed as he began to whimper softly.

While Dooku had been lost in thought, the captain had started to collapse in on himself.

���Governor?”, the Count asked, softly shaking the other by his shoulders as a feeling of nervousness rose up in his chest. “Governor, are you still there?”

Tarkin did not reply to his words, but as soon as he felt Dooku’s hand grasping his shoulder, he groaned out in agony, opening his delirious eyes and looking up at the air. He moved his own hand over to the Count’s weakly trying to push it away. He tried to focus his gaze on the other, though his eyes still darted from place to place. “That’s… where…”, he gasped, trying to say more but failing.

Dooku’s eyes widened as he began to understand what the Governor was getting at. How stupid of him, he should have observed it sooner…

The tensing up of his shoulders when the Citadel had been mentioned. The fact that he grabbed them when in pain. And now, how he did not want them to be touched.

Of course, the burns that were causing the most trouble where those on his shoulders.

Immediately taking his hand back, the Count gulped. “…I’m going to have to examine those shoulders”, he carefully explained. “You’re looking worse by the second, I think it might be serious. Will you let me?”

Instead of responding with his usual fiery resistance, Tarkin simply slumped down, sighing miserably as he faintly stared at Dooku’s eyes. The only response that he could muster was a faint nod. It seemed that he was finally realising that his body was starting to give up on him as well, now.

In all fairness, this was far more concerning to the Count than any previous attempts of resistance had ever been. Those had been expected. This meek cooperation that we was seeing now, though… it was a sign that something was terribly wrong with the Governor.

Reaching out with trembling fingers, Dooku began to loosen Tarkin’s uniform, carefully removing it from the captain’s torso. He saw that the Governor had tried to patch up his wounds by applying bandages, but it was immediately obvious that they would not be enough. Patiently removing them, the Count began to slowly expose Tarkin’s bare upper body, his heart skipping a beat as he did so.

While he had never been astute at figuring out his own emotions, the absolute tangled mess of an emotion wave that he was experiencing right now was more confusing than he had ever experienced.

He could not help but notice that Tarkin’s body was… wildly attractive. There was no other way of saying it. His fair, toned body truly was a marvel to look at. As much as he hated to admit it, the sight of it made Dooku go red in the face. His head feeling warmer and warmer, he could not help but stare, the sight being both gorgeous and concerning.

The concern did not only come from the fact that these feeling that the Count was experiencing frightened him, though.

It was mostly how it was covered in scars.

Most of them seemed to be old. Claw and bite marks, wounds left by blasterfire, cuts. These were not the ones that caught Dooku’s attention though.

What concerned him most was how the burn wounds he had received during his torture at the citadel were looking.

The skin around them was getting flaky, and especially the burns on his shoulder seemed like they were swelling. Even though it had been quite a while since their escape from the prison, the wounds were still flaring red, almost looking as if they had just been received.

The count inhaled sharply. It did not take a medical man’s observation to tell that the wounds had become horribly infected. He rushed to find an emergency aid kit that he had left in the house, running back into the room and hurriedly searching for disinfectant. He turned back towards Tarkin, a concerned look on his face. “…I’m going to have a droid see to you”, he said, taking the disinfectant and putting it on a piece of cloth. “You need better medical care than I can give you. I’ll administer emergency care in the meantime, though… Sorry, but this will sting.”

As soon as the disinfectant touched the Governor’s skin, he hissed loudly, clenching his jaw as his eyes widened in agony. “…Burns…”, he mumbled, crying out in pain. “It… It burns… Stop…”

Dooku looked down pityingly, continuing to clean the wounds a bit despite how agonising it was to hear the captain’s pleas. “I know it hurts, I know”, he shushed, sighing sadly. “Just a little more, I promise. It’s going to be okay, I’m here.

Tarkin narrowed his eyes, still groaning out in pain as he stared at the Count with those piercing eyes of his. “…Why… would you…”, he mumbled, struggling to keep his eyes open.

“You might as well ask why I promised to leave your home planet Eriadu intact”, Dooku simply responded. “…Sometimes I don’t even know anymore, but I have decided upon this course of action and I will see it through.”

“That’s no real answer”, the captain muttered faintly.

Disinfecting the final burns, the Count could not help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he cleaned the lower side of Tarkin’s stomach. “Much like you gave me when I asked you whether you were all right”, he replied, somewhat of a smug grin appearing on his face. “There… that’s all I can do for now, but… you are far from being healed. I’d suggest you try and take a nap, and then we’ll see if you can eat a bit after that. How does that sound to you?”

The Governor tried to put up a fight, but he quickly gave up, burying himself under his blanket as his teeth began to clatter. He did not say a single word, but Dooku could easily tell that he has resigned himself to the situation. He looked… surprisingly endearing.

Seeing the other like that, the Count could not help but give an endearing smile. “You sleep tight for now, Governor”, he said. “I’ll go and see about that droid in the meantime.” He stood up, but not before tucking Tarkin in properly and hesitantly patting him on the head.

“…Sleep well, my captain.”

[lbibliophile-sw]

Bringing a Lightsaber to a Duel

It’s unintentional, but Commander Cody, collects lightsabres. Jedi, Sith; somehow, they all end up on his belt.

So when Count Dooku corners him, Obi-wan still half-way across the battlefield, Cody draws his favourite sabre (Obi-wan's) to hold him off.

He doesn’t stand a chance. The Sith toys with Cody for a few minutes, then casually disarms him.

That's ok, he pulls out his next sabre. The duel resumes.

Disarm, replace, resume.

And again.

Disarm… Cody reaches for his belt, finding it empty. A Force push sends him flying. He rolls to his feet... with sabre in hand.

The duel resumes.

Almost half an hour an hour later, Obi-wan finally arrives to find his Commander panting and dusty but unharmed, facing off against his grandmaster who is nearly incoherent with frustration. At least half of what he does catch sounds suspiciously like advice on his technique.

---

Also on AO3

For: @codywanweek - day 1: Cody with a lightsaber @clonefandomevents - 212th Bingo: trading weapons

[mayxthexforce-moved]

send GRIEVED for a scene from my muse's past in which they had recently lost someone / something ( FEEMOR FEEMOR FEEMOR )

GLIMPSES OF THE PAST: a headcanon / prompt collection

Feemor hadn't known it was possible to grieve someone who was alive.

"This is unthinkable, unacceptable- it's DISHONORABLE," Dooku's voice kept fading into the background. His legs coming in and out of Feemor's view as the older Jedi paced from one end of the Knught's room to the other in a barely contained rage. "I won't allow this. I won't-"

Feemor stopped listening to his Grand Master. He kept playing out the events that led to this over and over again in his head. Having only been a knight for about three years, his connection with Qui-Gon was, up until that point, as strong as it had been when he was still Jinn's Padawan. That is why Feemor was the first one to know that something was wrong, even before Qui-Gon made it back.

Their connection VANISHED.

His first thought was that something must have gone horribly wrong, that Qui-Gon must have died and so, his first instinct was to seek out Master Dooku, explain the situation to him and get him to convince Yoda to send someone in search of Xanatos, who Feemor could still sense, albeit weakly. The dread in the pit of his stomach, and the sudden emptiness that invaded his chest, didn't dissipate when Dooku informed him that he could still sense Qui-Gon. They were merely accompanied by confusion.

Eventually, Qui-Gon returned and that hurricane of emotions died down into numbing shock. Master Jinn informed the Council that Xanatos, his ONLY Padawan, had fallen to the dark side following a path of greed and selfishness. Dooku was the one who got angry on Feemor's behalf.

Disowning a Padawan wasn't unheard of. But it was unheard of to do it to a GOOD Padawan, and everyone who knew Feemor knew him to be an example of good behavior. For twelve years, he worked hard to honor the Jedi. For thirteen years after that, he worked even harder to make Qui-Gon proud. Only to be disowned because of somebody else's wrongdoings.

That day, 24 years before the day Qui-Gon would lose his life at the hands of a Sith apprentice, Feemor grieved the loss of his master.

"There is no point in stressing yourself over this, Master," Feemor said with such resignation, attempting to put an end to Dooku's rant even if he hadn't listened to it. "It is done."

[sithfox]

August of Whump - Day 27

Prompts: proof / memory / machine

Quinlan stares blankly at the long-fingered hand before him. "I don't know who you are."

"You don't know who you are, my boy. I can help you." His hindbrain screams no, don't trust, but—it's not like he has a choice, stranded and without a memory to his name.

"Prove it." He's in no place to be making demands, and they both know it. But the elegant man indulges him, gestures to a strange machine.

"All you need to do is touch and you will see." His warm smile is belied by his frozen eyes.

Quinlan grimaces and reaches forward.

On ao3

[rochenn]

please im starving do you have any good dooku fic recommendations

BOY DO I HAVE SOME FOR YOU!!

I Pray My Mind be Good to Me by @purple-ant | Dooku/Sifo-Dyas | M | in progress | 40k so far | Set before the Prequels. Sifo-Dyas isn't killed by Dooku, but maybe this is worse—Sidious uses Dooku to torture him. Fascinating concept and GREAT execution and oh, oughh, my HEART. Tagged as "angst with a happy ending" and "dubious happy ending" and "friends to enemies to fucked up lovers" and I am absolutely hooked and in dire need of catching up!

Forward Motion by flute25 / @legobiwan | Dooku & Rael Averross | G | oneshot | 8k | In the moment between life and death, Dooku meets his first Padawan. And when I tell you this hurt me on a deeper level I really do mean it. Beautiful retrospective and reckoning of a mostly awful life, and beautifully written, too. A wonderful study of Dooku's character if you'd like to read something that makes you feel sad and even vaguely hopeful <3

Padawan by Peppermint_Shamrock / @jedi-order-apologist | Dooku & Asajj Ventress | G | Drabble | Dude I just fucking love a 100 word fic that fucks me up completely. I'll let the fic's summary do the talking here: "Dooku misspeaks." And, man, he sure does. I am UNWELL about Dooku's and Asajj's dynamic and this drabble captures it perfectly!!

the sparks that went dark in my gut by Icarus_is_flying | Dooku & Asajj Ventress | T | oneshot | 2k | Doomed master-apprentice relationships that could have become something wholesome if a Certain Someone wasn't a complete cunt are my bread and butter. Asajj's frustration with Dooku and herself, and Dooku's ways of teaching her... I already said their dynamic is everything to me and this fic ALSO does it so so so very well. Read this if you want to get feelsy about this utter disaster duo!!

Three Days of Thawing by @prahacat | past Dooku/Obi-Wan | T | oneshot | 15k | It's not a rochen rec list if this fic isn't mentioned. Dooku is in exile after surviving the Clone Wars in this absolutely GORGEOUS character study. Delicious prose and one of my favorite Dooku voices of all time working in tandem as we follow him through his hermit life and slowly unravel the canon divergence that led him up to this point. Incredibly stimulating to read. Obi-Wan is great in this fic, too, and it makes you burn with curiosity about exactly what happened in the past! Stunning descriptions of nature and human nature alike. Every time I think about this fic I go insane. HUGE HUGE HUGE recommendation even if you don't really go there, trust me it's worth it!

Lastly, I will be recommending some accounts for your browsing pleasure: anything by @charmwasjess (AO3), lots of great Dooku fics to choose from in a great variety of flavors!! Especially great if you enjoy Dooku/Sifo-Dyas. Same goes for @bolithesenate (AO3). So many fics I go 👀👀👀 at but don't have the time to get around to.

Enjoy!!

[floofyroro]

Nonsense

Pairing: Crosshair/Reader

Words: 348 (drabble)

Tags/warnings: teasing, frat batch!crosshair, jedi!reader

Summary: His insinuations are getting out of hand.

A/N: Another silly little drabble that I've abandoned. I still liked the idea though, which was inspired by Sabrina Carpenter's Nonsense.

“I like to make them roll.”

Your brow furrows in confusion.

What?

He’d just finished grumbling about the latest mission as you both prepared to depart from the ship. All he does is complain, is what was at the forefront of your mind as he spoke, and you’re fatigued, not really giving him the time of day as you checked your supply pack for the nth time.

But then he made that unusual statement.

Turning around, you pin Crosshair with a glare that would curdle even Count Dooku’s appetite. 

Your teammate’s only response is the corner of his mouth quirking into a shit-eating smirk. 

You think it would be satisfying to watch him trip. To land squarely on his handsome face, his expression teetering from arrogance to sheer mortification.

It’s an enticing visual, to say the least. He needs to be humbled. 

As soon as yesterday, actually. 

You remind yourself to take a calming inhale. “You like to what?”

His eyes dip down momentarily to the fists clenching against the hem of your robes before settling back onto your gaze.

“To make them roll. Your eyes,” he enunciates, as if you’re a child in need of a watered-down explanation. 

Unbidden, your jaw goes slack. Okay, the bodily response of rolling your eyes is so automatic that you didn’t even realize you’d been reacting to his incessant protesting. It's second nature at this point to always be exasperated while in Crosshair's presence.

But the audacity—

“Though… I bet I can make them roll in other ways too,” he says, his voice low. Your lips part as you watch him pull his helmet over his head, the telltale click resounding as his internal armor systems whirr to life. He doesn’t wait for your response as he grabs Firepuncher and exits the hull, sauntering down the gangplank of the Marauder without another word, his gait confident and uncaring.

A flicker of irritation and something else, something warm and volatile threatens to surface but you try to push it down, a muscle feathering in your jaw. 

Alright. 

Two can play this game.

Masterlist

[purple-ant]

Fanfic ask four five or six

why choose if you can get it all :D

5. Where do you get your title inspiration from?

music mostly! many of my fics have song names and lines as titles because of associations and all cool edits for the fic i imagine while listening to it.

otherwise it's something simple i came up with while staring into the ao3 page and its empty title space. i have many simple drabbles, no need to make the title complicated if i just want to share a little moment

6. Do you listen to anything while you write? Or do you prefer silence?

silence! no music, no video. I get distracted too quickly and easy

4. Do you save your 'cut scenes' from your fics? (Want to share one?)

i don't have many cut scenes but i keep it all xd

usually if write something it means i NEED it, i will use it. but there are always exceptions like the scene under the cut. i couldn't figure out dooku's POV at the beginning of the 7th chapter of I Pray My Mind be Good to Me where he listens to Sidious's visit to our favorite seer. so i needed to see the actual scene for him to react, enjoy!

Sifo-Dyas feels the hair on his scalp rise, but he dares not look away as Sidious's predatory form glides closer, blending into the darkness. 

"It is impolite to greet guests seated, Master Jedi," the Sith Lord says, as if making small talk. 

Sifo-Dyas does not have time to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth or to pick out a single word from the swirl of panicked thoughts that churn through his mind, all boiling down to one simple one: no, not you. 

He does not have time, because his unwieldy body is lifted effortlessly into the air. 

The few colors around him swirl wildly, a flash of light whips from his wrists to his elbows and shoulders, and something snaps in his spine as he is suspended in midair by his arms. Disoriented, he doesn’t understand what’s happening for a few seconds, unaccustomed to this specific, physical kind of pain, having his muscles roughly pulled and dislocated. Sifo-Dyas breathes hard, blinking, trying to force the shades of darkness around him back into their familiar shapes. The nausea returns, but even the bile no longer rises in his throat. 

Finally, he hooks the toes of his boots onto the floor, giving him something to focus on. His hands twitch, but it’s only pain. He can get used to that, it turns out, quickly. 

Sidious is here. This… this is something he’s never had time to get used to, and he doesn’t want to get used to it. He wants to go back to being alone. 

His bleary gaze slides to Sidious’s figure. He’s several heads higher than the Sith now, but that doesn’t give him any confidence or strength. 

Should he say something? Part of him wants to. Part of him just wants to say something to someone, even if it's a Sith Master, even if his words will likely pull him deeper into Sidious's web. And it seems he's expected to respond. Should he remain silent, ignore, and conserve his strength... for what?

“I wasn’t expecting… guests,” the words are like stones in his throat, he chokes on them. His body shudders, he loses his footing, and it takes a second to get it back. How pathetic this must look… was this part of Sidious’s plan? To put him in an even more awkward position… it’s even petty. 

“Oh, I’m afraid it’s my fault. I have indeed neglected you since our last meeting.” Sidious moves, and this worsens Sifo-Dyas’s headache. He looks over the Sith’s shoulder, expecting to see Tyranus’s figure there, trailing behind his master like a faithful, beaten dog, but there is no one there. 

“Looking for our dear friend?” The last word cuts. “Unfortunately, he will not be joining us today, but do not write him off completely, of course.” 

The transmitter. Is Tyranus listening now?

“We have no… mutual friends.” 

Sifo-Dyas's instincts scream at him to keep his eyes open, to watch Sidious' every move, but his muscles scream too, his body never stops making a soft groan, and he is so tired of it. He closes his eyes only slightly, perhaps he could find a balance and get used to this new position too... 

“Really? How interesting. Indeed, I should have visited you in person more often. I remember the last time we met, you insisted otherwise…” Too many words. They pour into Sifo-Dyas's ears and settle in his cracked skull. Talking to Tyranus has never hurt so much... How much time has passed since then? How much has thinned in him since then? 

Silence. Is Sidious waiting for his answer? 

That feeling again, faded but never leaving his memory. An open snake's mouth around his mind, but this time a drop of venom falls from the fangs, hissing on his tattered shields, eating away at damage that never had a chance to heal. It hurts. It's a new kind of pain again, and Sifo-Dyas is too devastated by all the others to deal with it. If he says something, will the Sith stop? 

"With friends like these… who needs enemies…"

He does not want to talk about Dooku. The traitor. The thought of him hurts no more than the burning in his eyes, and Sifo-Dyas blinks a few times to clear the feeling. He may dangle there like a parody of a hanging, but he will not cry for the bastard in front of his jailer. 

Sidious does not retreat from his mind, instead the poison penetrates deeper, corrupts further. Corrosion, decay… Sifo-Dyas hisses through clenched teeth. 

“Stop…” what nonsense. “What do you want?” 

“Oh, my goals have not changed since our last meeting, Jedi.” 

“No.” 

He has almost no strength left.

It hisses, penetrating deeper. The process of his own shields boiling over would be interesting if it did not corrode his mind from the inside. What is the point of patching up the cracks if the material is weak and crumbles at the slightest touch? Why does he keep doing this… 

“I expected it, and yet it never ceases to amuse me. Do you really think this resistance will gain you anything?” 

No… 

“Gain the Jedi anything?” 

Perhaps… He hopes… 

“Oh, you think you’ve lost, and you’re right. You lost the moment you contacted the Count. But the Jedi? They lost a long, long time ago, without even knowing it.” 

Lies. Lies, the Sith always lie… it hurts. 

“You know, I don’t need your fall or your madness, only your knowledge. But you make one impossible without the other.” 

He locks his jaw. Stop, no… 

His shields, the tottering remains of a besieged fortress, are swept away like a house of cards. Sifo-Dyas… swept away with them. 

Stop, stop, please. 

How painful it is to have your mind torn apart…

Please… 

He must be screaming. He wants to scream so badly.

Please, stop, stop, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it’s not his, it’s not his, go away, stop, stop… 

The darkness is pouring into him, into his veins, filling him, it’s not his. 

Stop, stop, I beg you, please, stop… Stop… 

“You know how to make it stop.” 

He’s sorry, he’s truly sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry— 

“A woman chosen by the Force but not gifted with it, captured and killed, and her child will be terrible in his grief,” the words pour out of him like sand through his fingers. Yellow and red dust mixes in the hot air. “He will be the messenger of death, he will be the final executioner, he will chain himself and kneel and call it freedom.” 

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…

“Was it that hard?” 

Horrible, it was terrible. 

“Do I need to repeat this lesson, Jedi?” 

The title is a mockery, the foulest insult. Sifo-Dyas feels dirty. He shakes his head. No, don’t… 

“Out loud.” 

It’s harder to speak when the prophecy isn’t pouring out of him, he can feel the strain of his Darkness-soaked muscles and thoughts. 

“…no.” 

Sifo-Dyas says other things, other prophecies, things he remembers. He doesn’t know when Sidious leaves. The darkness in his veins doesn’t fade; there are no shields to restore. It just remains there. 

He’s sorry.

[lonepower]

ok outlaws/kd5 girlies(gender-neutral), what are the postgame thoughts? I have Ideas™ for things I think would be fun, but nothing concrete or connected enough to turn into an actual story yet, and I'm curious how the other people who've been in the fandom longer than I have see the Trailblazer crew continuing on from here!

(own musings under the cut-)

There's a lot of potential in Jet Kordo and the Miyuki Trade League imo. If I do end up writing any sort of plot-focused fic, it'll almost definitely involve them. I think Kay would be a good fit for them - they're clearly not strictly above-board, but they seem to operate independent of the syndicates and have their own practices & codes of ethics, which I think would suit her. And I think she would be interested in catching up with Kordo, if for no other reason than to meet the man behind all the messages. (Also, more importantly, they're an invention of this game, which means I don't have to worry about contradicting 5 million years of convoluted and already-contradictory lore.)

I think they would suit ND as well, actually. He's left a lot of his Separatist programming behind, but not all of it, and he's no fan of the Jedi or the Republic. I can see him slotting the trade league in as a surrogate/successor for the trade federation (which, if it weren't for Dooku meddling in it, sounds like it wouldn't really have been that bad... (<- hasn't watched the clone wars and doesn't plan to)) 

Related, I'm really curious on where we all stand re: what ND actually likes and wants. The game leaves a lot of it up for interpretation; his whole arc is about regaining agency and coming to terms with the fact that he's not just "a tool to be used," (😫😭) but that's... sort of where it ends? He knows what he isn't, now, but I'm not sure he has any more idea of what he is or what "freedom" means than Kay does. He says he enjoys having a purpose, but... what would that be? Lots of potential. Much to ponder.

I do think he genuinely enjoys traveling the galaxy. All of the comms dialogues where he sounds the most interested are about locations, land features, the people therein (for all that he professes to prefer solitude - he doesn't like interacting with people, but he seems interested in observing them). It's another reason I think he'd actually be happy continuing as a smuggler or trader. But people are complex, that can't be his only source of fulfillment. For some reason I got it into my head that he'd be a surprisingly good artist, but I'm curious what others envision for him (◡_◡)

Kay says that having the Trailblazer isn't enough to be really free, but as mentioned it's a recurring theme that she has no idea what being free actually entails (and Qira certainly isn't helping. go pull that cryptic shit on someone else). I think once the death mark is off her shoulders, she'd start to realize that maybe she can just live as she has been, and maybe Nix and ND and the Trailblazer and all the new friends she's made are enough, at least for the foreseeable future.

Speaking of: in-game the death mark is sort of left as a case of No Ontological Inertia, but there's a drabble/plot bunny somewhere in there where it's explicitly Vail who calls it off. Just imagine how that would go. Imagine how smug ND would be. It would be so funny. please

After the wild cards dlc, one of her more Kay-like goals is "get rich enough that I can enter the competition legitimately". ND is actually in the audience this time. Along with Nix, to prove a point, because I'm still salty a) that ND was surprised by my being good at sabacc, and b) I won that goddamn game without framing anyone. I freaking HAD THEM when that bomb went off, I am so mad-

It's a bit of a stretch, but I also really want Kay to be the one who smuggles R2 and 3PO up to Jabba's back door in the beginning of ROTJ. (Lando knows her! Presumably he knows she broke in & out of the palace once already! It could be plausible!) This is mainly because I want to inflict R2 (chaos incarnate even among astromechs) on ND (vocally hates astromechs). Also Kay would be super weirded out by Luke even without knowing the Jedi thing and it would be fun to make them interact.

They still would do their best to avoid the rebels. When the Empire falls 6ish months later, how do they react? How much would life even change for them as smugglers (who would presumably find themselves at odds with any sort of organized government, even an ideal/democratic one)? Does the sudden power vacuum mess them up, or does it make life even more profitable as people struggle to function without structure in a transitional period?

I don't have actual full-fledged fic premises for any of these points and I really do want to know what (if anything) the other handful of people in this fandom have come up with, so if you have additions/objections/other ideas, this is your cue. pls come yell i'm brainrot about this game........

[lilolilyr]

✨ Ao3 Wrapped 2024 ✨

2022 • 2023 • more

Works published: I wrote 54 fics this year - 51 you can see plus some on anon ;)

Wordcount: 142,245

I managed to hit my 100k goal quite early this year! And even without counting my ~20k Avorah draft pile, I'm way past it :D As I'm drafting this in early November, this is my stats sheet (adding how it looks now for comparison, I did have some movement in the last two months):

Kudos: 2489

Hits: 37008

Bookmarks: 385

Subscriptions: 183 to my account, 188 to separate works! Funny how that's almost identical numbers rn! Last year my work subs were much lower... I wish I could compare the account subscriptions of past years but for some reason it just shows the current one no matter where I click.

Most popular by kudos: ohhh all those upcoming stats looked So different a couple months ago, namely before I wrote some shortfics for Star Wars, which wins at all those stats by sheer number of people in the fandom xD and finishing the Mirandy Jigsaw podfic also kicked it back up the stats! I don't really know whether to count it as I didn't start it this year, but I did Finish it in October... Hm. So yeah, prior to that the top5 fics in all of the stats were Avorah fics i think. Wish I took a screenshot of that! Now, the most kudosed with 245 is Star Wars Visions of a Future Past

Most hits: Jigsaw with 4579, followed again by visions with 3236

Longest: Bering&Wells Being Known for @anandabrat 13.906 words

Shortest: apart from the podfics? Berena evening for @squishmittenficfan with 1010 words, followed closely by Avorah Closure for @emeraldorchids with 1017! No drabbles this year?? This feels fake, I remember writing at least a Berena one! Oh lol I still had the 'gift fic' filter because that's the last thing I looked at, doing this all out of order... I do in fact have several Berena drabbles. And a Gunpowder Milkshake ficlet of 333 words and a Star Wars Codywan ficlet at 350. All of them here.

Most Comments: technically Jigsaw but not all of them are from 2024, so Being Known with 22 comment threads

The other fics you can see on my stats screenshots here are

The Avorah fics that used to lead in all categories: All About Risk, Tethered, Mistaken Identity, Totally Straight and of borrowed swimsuits, panic attacks and parties without purpose. Mostly smut here!

battles left behind and won, the second part of my Star Wars time travel fic. The third part with Dooku/Jaster smut didn't do as well, maybe because of the rare pair, maybe just because I forgot to link to it from part 2.

& my Avorah wip pile which I'm not counting for the word count total because it consists of several abandoned drafts

(and yes my cursed HP sioc is winning by subs and bookmarks probably because I never update it)

Comment to show off: I'm bad at remembering things so idk which one was my actual fav but I got a comment last month that really made me smile, it's on an old fic in a fandom I'm not really active in anymore but the characters and that fic idea is still very dear to me and the fic only ever got a handful of comments, so seeing this was lovely <3

I also really love getting comments on my podfics as well, especially from people who've already listened to the whole thing! I don't have one specific one but I remember I got a couple comments on old HP podfics this year, as well as on Jigsaw :)

Fics that made me cry: of my own fic probably Bering&Wells And After All We're Only Ordinary Men. For fics I read, you can check out which fics I bookmarked under that tag! Definitely Star Wars magic blanket by @my-insanity-is-an-artform <3

Fics that made me smile: I think most of my fics make me smile at least a little at some point in writing or re-reading, but probably mostly the fluff&humor fics. For reading, this Star Wars ficlet by @calltomuster is the last I remember not just making me smile but actually laugh out loud! And looking into my bookmarks I also found Codywan Keep on the Sunny Side by @themonopolyhat as well as Sith Lord Swell by @AMournfulHowlInTheNight :D

gifts: I gave 23 gifts this year - two less than last year, I guess I did a couple less gift exchanges but I still gift people fics for other reasons so the number is still similar. I also got gifts, by @lavendelhummel @73chn1c0l0rr3v3l @wickedheadache @die-schwanenkoenigin @wilfriede @prozac-shaped-urn, thank you darlings!

collaborations: I don't think I actually collabed with anyone this year? Some things were in the works but didn't pan out... I did start some fics that others continued though! Particularly in Avorah - the inspo fics are linked at the bottom of this work!

events: back in January I posted my Star Trek Winter Gift Exchange fic, then in February the Bering and Wells gift exchange, at the beginning of the year I wrote some ficlets for the Weekly Berena Fix, then I joined May Trope Mayhem with two Avorah ficlets, was part of the Summer Podfic Swap with several short podfics of my own - I also finally finished my 8 hour long Mirandy podfic Jigsaw, which while not part of the event feels a lot more momentous! Now in December I posted my Hacks gift exchange fic, and I wrote three ficlets for the @berenaadvent!

And you can all thank @viharistenno for this cursed addition:

Reader Wordcount: over 40 million! I counted this every month because last year it was so impossible to go through it all in one go xD but by now I've actually learned about an easier way to count it, namely with this:

random.fangirling.net/scripts/ao3_works_stats

Don't worry you don't have to give anything online your Ao3 login, it just helps you to put it in your own Excel sheets to do the sums with.

Also, it just gives you your history - I did Not count my full history because when I click fics I don't read, I then bookmark them 'to read' or 'didn't read' and then filter them out, obviously if you didn't do that all the time you end up with more than you actually read in your history, but it might still be interesting to see the number! For comparison, my full history of December is over a million words more than the one I'm counting.

Bookmarks: (adding this category because I bookmarked truly exorbitant numbers of fic this year, also partly bc of the wordcount checking thing but also because I add summaries and tags and stuff to bookmarks to find fics again later), I had to scroll to page 64 to reach last years 2023's bookmarks, I literally have almost as many bookmarks from this year as i havs from the ten years before that! 1264 of just over 3k total!

For ease of copying: Works published: Wordcount: Kudos: Hits: Bookmarks: Subscriptions: Most popular by kudos: Most hits: Longest: Shortest: Most Comments: Favorite Comment: Fics that made me cry: Fics that made me smile: gifts: collaborations: events: Wordcount read: bookmarks:

Tagging, only if you want to do it of course, everyone tagged above, @cacodaemonia, @guardianrock @bkwormkate @doctor-milfi @anoel and everyone else who sees this :D just pls make your own post, don't reblog! And remember to leave a blank of the qs for the people you tag :)

Also: I've got 440 unread in my inbox o.O pretty sure last year I was on 200sth? (I don't always reply immediately, bc I want to let ppl know once I update that there's sth new - which in some fandoms never happens lmao - or bc I need to think of a good reply to more interesting comments... But 200 that I haven't dealt with from 1 year is excessive adsfg)

[papsiguesss]

Tarkin/Dooku Drabblings: Sickfic 3, the whumpening

I… need to find a better way to name these chapters instead of this silly stuff but that’s a side matter! This little sickfic story will probably have one more chapter, and then I’ll probably start on my legit AO3 fic for these two the next time I write for them. (I will be focusing on my Mer!AU fic as well so I cannot guarantee weekly updates but we shall see!) The drabblings I posted on here will be incorporated into that story so they are little sneak peeks I suppose! 😅

Back to the matter at hand, Tarkin is still sick and being. Well. Tarkin. But will he be able to resist Dooku feeding him soup?! Let’s find out…

2889 words

“…Food?”, Tarkin asked a bit distrustfully, eyeing the bowl in Dooku’s hand suspiciously.

The Count rolled his eyes, covering his face with his free hand. He knew that the captain had his reasons for his distrust, but it was becoming more and more difficult to keep his patience with this man. “Yes, Governor, food”, he replied. “I know that you are absolutely fine and all, but you have been asleep for multiple hours, and as far as I am aware you did not partake in any breakfast either, since you collapsed on the spot. You will need to eat in order to recover, so it would not be a strange thought to bring you some food, correct? Given the fact that you are bed-bound and all…” He tilted the bowl somewhat, showing its contents. “It’s just a simple broth. I thought it wise to stick to easily digestible foods for now, seeing the state of your body...”

Tarkin frowned, narrowing his eyes. “…I do not like being fussed around like a child”, he grumbled, his cheeks turning somewhat red.

“No one does”, Dooku replied. “But look at it in this way. You are the only one in the galaxy who knows your half of the Nexus Route coordinates. Would you not be doing a disservice to your Republic by neglecting yourself? These infections are not things to be underestimated, Governor. Recovering so that you can further your army’s cause would be the correct thing to do, yes?”

He still saw the captain with that look of confusion on his face, and so he let out a soft sigh. “I’ve tried to explain why you need to stop treating yourself like this with other methods, but apparently this is the only way that you will understand what I am saying. Why, Tarkin? Why is your worth as a commander the only thing that is important to you…?”

The Governor gave no answer to that question, a grave look spreading across his face. It seemed like the Count had hit the nail right on its head with slowly detangling the minefield that was Tarkin’s mind, and the captain seemed to be far from pleased with it. He tried to glare at Dooku, his eyes burning with defiance, but the grumbling of his own stomach eventually betrayed him. A flustered blush on his cheeks, he let out a sigh, reaching out for the bowl that the Count was holding. “Fine”, he reluctantly admitted. “I’ll eat, if that makes you feel good about yourself-”

He quickly fell silent though, seeing how much his hands were trembling as he tried to grab the bowl.

His arms quickly slumped down again as he let out an exhausted but frustrated groan, looking down at his body miserably. “...Damn it all...”, he grumbled. His hands bawled up into fists as he clenched his teeth, an immense sense of irritation emanating from him. “Why does this have to happen now of all moments...?!”

Dooku gave him a pitying look. “It’s no matter, Governor”, he said, taking the spoon that lay in the bowl, scooping up a bit of the broth with it and moving it towards the captain’s lips. “I can help you for now...”

Seeing that the Count was trying to feed him, Tarkin scowled at him with a look of disgust. He opened his mouth in an attempt to protest, but the spoon was in between his lips before he could get a word out. His eyes flared up with surprised offence for the first few seconds, but he eventually swallowed the broth down, his eyes narrowing and his face getting red as Dooku took the spoon out.

The Count could not help but chuckle softly as he saw the Governor’s reaction. It was strangely endearing to see him desperately try to keep up his dignity, in spite of the circumstances. “There, that was not so bad as you thought it would be, was it?”, he asked, feeding the captain another spoon. “You’ll have finished the bowl soon enough if you keep going like this, and then I can leave you be again.”

Tarkin let out an indignant huff. “...I hate you”, he said, before swallowing down his second spoonful.

“I know”, Dooku said, calmly smiling. “If you didn’t, I would be grievously worried about you. The only way you would become cooperative would be when something is seriously wrong.” He fed the Governor another bit of soup, before putting the bowl down and taking a look at his companion. “How are you feeling? Does it feel like it’s difficult to eat?”

The captain stayed silent for a while, looking away embarrassed. “...Not good”, he eventually admitted, his words sounding like they were becoming slurred again. “But I’m... still hungry.”

The Count nodded, raising the bowl up to Tarkin’s lips. “Would drinking it like this be more comfortable?”, he asked. After a nod from the Governor, he tilted the bowl slightly, helping the other slowly drink its contents before putting it away after Tarkin had drunk it empty. The captain had his eyes closed the entire time, drops of sweat dripping down his reddened forehead as he breathed heavily and with difficulty. It made Dooku want to comfort him so badly, but he did not quite know how to go about it.

“...I’ll have that 2-1B take your temperature”, he eventually said, having stayed silent while observing the Governor for some time. He rested his hand on Tarkin’s forehead for a few seconds, noticing that it was still feeling like hot coals. “Your fever does not feel like it will get better any soon.”

The captain opened his eyes faintly as he pulled his blankets closer towards him. Letting out a shuddering breath, it looked as if his shivers were starting again. He was seemingly trying to keep his body from trembling so much, but it was starting to become an impossible effort. His teeth were beginning to clatter, his arms were shaking as he tried to wrap them around his body for some semblance of warmth. He tucked his knees up to his chest, squeezing his eyes shut as he let out a miserable groan. He looked as if he was trying to say something, but not a single word would leave his lips.

The Count raised his eyebrows in concern. “…Tarkin?”, he asked, his worry increasing with every second.

“…Tarkin, is everything all right?”

***

His chest heaving up and down, the Governor pressed his face against his knees, his tremors becoming so severe that he couldn’t do anything to stop them anymore. It was getting more and more difficult to stay alert, Dooku’s words only sounding as if they came from far away.

...What was he even supposed to say to that question?

Of course things were not all right. They had not been ever since his imprisonment in the Citadel. But looking back, Tarkin would have chosen the physical torture he had experienced back then over the emotional mess he now found himself in any time. He was not certain about anything anymore, and his feelings were making him feel so confused that sometimes, he was not even sure that this was his own mind anymore. And on top of that, his body could not even manage to do the most mundane things.

It was pure agony.

He felt like he was boiling inside, and that there was not a single way to blow off steam. His fever was making his outer barriers weaker and weaker, and it made him worry that he would be driven to the point of breaking down.

...It was all just becoming... too much. He just could not stay strong anymore. He couldn’t. Up until this very moment, he had tried to keep up his walls, to defy the Count every single moment that he stayed here, but as he collapsed in on himself, he realised that he did not have the energy to keep up this resistance anymore.

He was broken.

He had failed.

His eyes feeling like they were stinging, Tarkin covered himself with his blanket, his lips quivering. No, he thought to himself. I cannot be crying right now. Not with him right there... not when I am vulnerable like this...

“Tarkin.”

The Governor felt Dooku’s hand gently resting on his side, its tender steadiness bringing a comforting contrast to the captain’s violently shivering body. “Tarkin, it’s all right”, he heard the Count say. “You are safe. You are in good hands, and you will get better. You can let your guard, down, I promise. There is no need to keep your barriers up right now.”

Tarkin slowly turned to lie on his back, pulling the blanket away from his face as he stared at Dooku miserably. “...I’m so sick of all of this”, he groaned, sighing.

The Count gave him a look of pity. Strangely, it did not anger the captain, unlike other times he had been given a glance like that. He certainly did not like the way it made him feel nonetheless, but it wasn’t... anger.

“I can understand”, Dooku said. “I... cannot help but feel incredibly sorry for you when seeing you in so much pain, I must admit. I cannot even imagine how you must be feeling going through all this.”

The Governor could not help but grow flustered as he heard those words. His gaze kept going back and forth between the Count’s hand still resting against his body and his deep brown eyes staring directly into his, his heart beating in his chest. His stomach felt like it was turning itself inside out, his face feeling even hotter than it already was.

He did not know what all these things were, but they frightened him. They frightened him immensely. It had to be his infection making him feel these sensations, he reasoned to himself. He could not come up with any other explanation. It had to be a delirium, or a fever reaction... There was no other way that a simple touch from someone would make him feel like this...

...right?

“I- I do not need pity, and certainly not from you”, he quickly stammered, turning his face away as a flustered blush spread across his cheeks. He had to find a way to make himself stop feeling these things, and he had to find it quickly. “As you said, I will simply recover from this eventually. I was just overreacting.”

“...Do you truly believe that, Governor?”, the Count asked, staring at the other with a grave look. “Is pity and care not exactly what you are in need of at the moment?”

The captain looked away, a frustrated look on his face. “...I suppose others would say so”, he hesitantly admitted. “As for me... I don’t know.”

Dooku’s pointed stare turned into a softer one, almost as if he was glad that he got Tarkin to admit his suffering, albeit very minimally. “Then care is what I shall give you”, he said. “I know it was my men that inflicted these injuries on you, so I will be the one to help you through their aftermath. It's the least I could do.” He tilted his head, looking at the Governor considerately. “What is it that you are in need of at the moment?”

Tarkin blushed furiously, his body tensing up as he thought about what he should answer. Right now, the thing that bothered him the most was his shivers. They almost felt spasmic at this point, and it was beginning to hurt.

He... did not really know what could be done about it, though.

He felt like he was freezing, of course, but it felt like every warm blanket that he tucked around himself was not doing a single thing. The pressure they applied was nice, he supposed, but they were so light that it hardly helped-

The Governor froze in place.

His mind was stuck on one particular way that his shivers could be helped, and it almost sent him in a panic.

He rubbed this temples, trying to push the thought out of his mind. No, he could not possibly allow that. Not with the Count. It was obscene. It went against everything he had fought for while staying here, against his entire being...

...Well, he was not so sure about the ‘entire’ part anymore.

Yes, he held a certain amount of respect for Dooku, but he despised him for the most part. His inexplicable acts of kindness confused and infuriated him, and his Separatist ways went against everything Tarkin stood for. Every time the Count would bring an argument to convince the captain of his innocence, he would think of another reason to hate him regardless of the other’s reasoning, purely to spite him. It was almost... obsessive, how much his brain was trying to stick to this animosity.

...Or... was it trying to compensate in a way...?

Were these reasons to despise Dooku merely excuses to ignore certain thoughts?

Were they trying to make up for those strange feelings Tarkin had felt for the Count before the war?

...The same feelings that he was possibly feeling this very moment?

Eyes widening in shock, the captain shuddered as these thoughts all passed through his mind. What was going on with him? Was his fever making him delirious again? Or were these emotions genuine? He simply could not tell, and that made him feel even more panicked.

The more he thought about it though, the more light-headed he seemed to be feeling, the more sense left his body.

Eventually, there was nothing left but that repressed feeling of wanting.

With trembling lips, he decided that he would humour the idea that his ailing mind had come up with.

“...I- I need pressure...”, he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as his head felt like it was being split open with how much it hurt. “With these shivers, I mean... and warmth...” He froze when trying to voice his request, gulping heavily.

“...Could you... hold me...”

Dooku’s eyes widened in surprise. “...What?”, he asked, clearly shocked by what he heard. “Are... are you being serious?”

The captain went red in the face as he looked away, his brows knit into a frown. “Yes, I am”, he blurted out quickly, turning on his side. “Do not get the wrong idea. It’s purely practical.”

Now it became the Count’s turn to become flustered, his cheeks immediately flushing. “If... if that would help you feel better...”, he stammered, scratching the back of his head before gently applying pressure to Tarkin’s arms, then laying down behind the Governor and cautiously pressing his body against his. “...Does this feel comfortable?”, he asked hesitantly.

The captain felt the other’s body warmth drowning out the freezing cold that he himself was experiencing, the pressure of Dooku’s arms quieting down the shivers. For the first time since his shivers had started, he managed to relax his limbs somewhat, letting out a soft sigh. The thought of the Count being the one to hold him in his arms still made him feels all sorts of panicked, but he simply tried to ignore that as much as he could. “...Better than before, at least...”, he shamefully admitted.

Dooku’s body felt like it was relaxing more after hearing those words, Tarkin softly gulping as he realised just how… good this all felt. And not only in the sense that it was helping with his shivers. Simply being held like this felt… comforting. Like he could just hide away from the entire world for a moment. It reminded him of his childhood, back when things were so simple that just hiding under a blanket would quiet down all the worries for a moment.

While the Governor had changed far too much to be able to go back to that childlike sense of innocence, he did… long for it, in a strange way.

And for some reason, Dooku holding him brought him some semblance of that feeling again.

He closed his eyes and let out a gentle sigh, his cheeks still bright hot red from both the fever and the furious blushing, but there was also a sense of calm on his face that had not been there ever since he had become a prisoner.

Even if what he was experiencing were just delusions from a delirious fever, he had to admit that this did feel… nice. He knew that in the future, his thoughts would probably be totally different about all this, but in the moment, he simply did not care. His shivers had been lessened, and he was more than grateful for that little fact already.

And like the Count said, he would get better. Not only from his physical ailments, but also from the conflicting emotions that were plaguing all of his waking moments. He would be able to shake it off again, return to the Republic no matter the means, and share the Nexus route coordinates so that they would be in the Senate’s hands at last. This was… just another trial, he thought to himself. And he would push through it, just like he had done before each and every time.

For now, he just felt comfort.

And comfort was all that he could think of as he dozed off to sleep again.

[lbibliophile-sw]

Not Your Sucess Story

Also on AO3 @whumptober - day 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

When Dooku Falls, he Falls for power. When Dooku Falls, he Falls for spite.

He wants recognition from the galaxy, from his Master. Sidious sees him as a tool, true; but he is still judging him. In Yoda’s eyes he is just another successful padawan of his lineage, dozens of names and faces blurring together over the centuries.

Dooku is tired of being a collage of comparisons, another notch on his Master’s belt. No. He will be the padawan Yoda failed, the one who succeeded on his own.

If his Masters won’t see Dooku, well, he will show them Tyrannus.

[jedi-order-apologist]

Padawan

Dooku misspeaks. Written for StarWars100 - Prompt: "Padawan"

Inspired by this post. Read on AO3

The title slips out, a careless mistake from old habits that Dooku should have done better to purge himself of.

He feels the way it strikes at her, feels the complicated and vulnerable emotions it invokes before she swiftly buries it under fury. But for all that Ventress embraces her rage over the... insult, she hesitates. She should attempt to strike him, with words if not sabers, but she doesn’t.

He should reprimand her for that weakness, but he, too, hesitates. After all, he was the one who misspoke.

They each turn away, and do not speak of it further.

[liam-neesons-best-girl]

Smoking {Qui-Gon Jinn x Reader}

Summary: young!qui-gon is annoyed at his master. He smokes with the reader to relax and things are turning steamy when Dooku breaks up the fun looking to apologize.

Warnings: mentions of weed/smoking, f!reader, innocent!reader, drabble, 18+

You found Qui-Gon in your usual meeting spot, a secluded area of the gardens behind the Jedi temple. He was waiting for you with what looks like a lit cigarette in his hand, a clear indication of a rough day.

You lay down resting your head on his chest as he leans up against a thick oak tree to hear him decompress.

"Master Dooku just doesn't get me sometimes. He knows a lot, and I can respect him for that, but I feel like he doesn't listen to me. He only thinks of me as a dumb kid," he said exasperated, wishing to take his mind off of his insecurities.

He takes a long drag off of the blunt he rolled himself, taking the edge off quiet nicely. A haze starts to form in his head and a goofy smile on his lips, the drug finally kicking in.

"Do you want to try some," he offers to you, knowing full well you've never experimented with anything before.

"Will it hurt," you ask with big doe eyes, unaware of how anything of that nature works. He loves how innocent you are, yet so eager to please him by trying new things.

"No, starlight, it'll only make you feel good," he said tenderly, bringing the blunt to your mouth.

You hold eye contact with him as you inhale, doing your best to suppress any coughs to try and impress Qui-Gon. Impressed he is, at how you lips pucker around the blunt, foggy brain thinking of it as his cock instead.

It wasn't long before you felt the buzz in your finger tips, your head, and a warm bubbling in your core.

When the blunt was finished he properly pulled you into his lap, in the process pulling down the front of your shirt to expose more of your cleavage and slipping your spaghetti straps off of your shoulders.

"So pristine. You're like the angels I read about in ancient texts," he says, slowly ghosting his lips over the expanse of your chest and collarbone.

You return the sultry action with a bite of his earlobe and soft praising. He's groping at your ass when he hears someone other than you calling his name.

Off in the near distance Master Dooku is looking for his young padawan, to apologize for his hasty behavior earlier.

At any other time Qui-Gon would welcome his master's humbleness but he knows that getting caught high AND with a girl would make his master never trust him again.

"Do you trust me," he says frantically looking down at you. Man, did he want to play with the plush of your breasts and puffy lips but he knew now was the time to run.

"With my life," you said, no hesitation. And with that, he scooped you up bridal style and began running along the tree line back to the temple, so Master Dooku wouldn’t catch your movements.

You part ways at the corridor to your respective quarters with a promise to resume the day's activities when night fell.

[awkward-tension-art]

Miscellaneous Drabbles

These are unfinished drabbles I thought of but have no idea what to do with tbh

Enjoy! because I have no idea what to do with these!

None of these are proof read at all!

Lost and Found (Gregor x F!Reader)

cw: Separatist!reader, Count Dooku, mention of dead clone

“Ma’am, I think it’s best if you return to the ship.” One of your droid bodyguards followed your steps. 

“No.” You snapped, walking towards the wreckage of the Republic transport. You were refueling on some remote, backwater planet called Abafar when a ship had breached the planet's atmosphere and crashed. 

You stepped over a body. The plastoid was familiar. 

Clones. Republic forces. 

Perhaps you could get some information from whatever was left of the ship. 

Something collapsed and the commando droids guarding you immediately aimed their rifles. Out of the burning wreckage stumbled another clone. 

The armor was bulky, scratched and...different. Unique.

Clone commando. You narrowed your eyes and remained still, watching him take two steps forward before collapsing. 

“Is he alive?” You asked, looking over to one of the droids. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Take him with us.” You responded, “I’m sure the Count would like to know I have a new toy.”

Once you got back to your ship, you made a call. After a few moments, the holo of Count Dooku appeared on your ship's console. 

“Father,” You lowered your head in greeting, “Congratulations on your victory of Sarrish.”

“Thank you, my daughter.” He sounded somewhat proud of himself, “But is there another reason you called?” 

“I found a clone commando,” You informed him, “I’d like to keep him for myself.” 

“Interesting find.” Your father rubbed his chin in thought, “Get whatever information you can out of him. After that he’s yours to do whatever you wish.”

“Of course, father. Thank you.” You bowed, “I'll see you again soon.”

“Stay safe, my daughter.”

The holo ended and you turned, watching as your droid bodyguards restrained the unconscious man. 

What a curious find indeed….

Massage (Tup x Reader)

cw: Fluff, headaches, Tup has better hair than me

You noticed how Tup rubbed his temples sometimes. Your cyare sometimes dealt with headaches with seemingly no known cause. 

He was doing it again as he sat on his bed in the barracks. Other clones mingled around, either resting, reading or just mingling about.

You had an idea. 

Tup opened one eye as you sat next to him, “Hello, love.” he greeted sweetly. 

“Another headache?” You looked at him in concern.

He nodded, “It’s not a problem, I can handle it.”

You hummed, moving to sit behind him. He looked at you confused but didn’t say anything. Carefully your fingers removed the tie he kept his hair in. It fell to his shoulders in soft curls.

“Oh!” He jerked slightly, “Um, love, what are you…?”

“Shhh I want to see if this helps.” You murmured, beginning to run your fingers through his curly strands. His hair was soft and shiny, which was a surprise for a soldier. 

You dug your fingers into his scalp gently, massaging his head. 

“O-oh…” Tup melted, letting out a soft whine. 

“Better?” You smiled, moving closer to him. 

His response was soft, bordering a quiet moan, “Yes…” he moved, deciding to lean into your chest as you kept massaging his scalp. He practically became puddy in your hands. 

You laughed softly, planting a kiss on his temple. 

Signal (Echo x Reader)

CW: Hacking, swearing, mentions of the Citadel,

The signal you found was a fun one to mess with. Perhaps playing with Separatist channels wasn’t the safest way to pass your time, but….

Well, despite being a neutral party in the war, you had friends in the Republic. 

You typed away on your pad, and the signal jumped and jerked. It reacted as if you hurt the thing. 

Signals couldn’t feel pain. They usually came from programs or droids, so you continued with your poking and prodding. However after a second, something tugged at your heart. 

Damn, your empathy. 

With an eye roll, you typed to the program broadcasting the signal. 

‘Sorry for hurting you.’

You waited. After a second, the signal hummed, as if singing a small tune. 

….what…? Why does it seem so….human?

-I am alright. I am alright. I am alright. 

“Okay…” you mumbled to yourself, “Weird ass program…” Your curiosity got the better of you, so you made a live connection. This would open your location up to be tracked but, you wouldn’t be long, “What’s your name?”

-CT-1409. CT-1409. CT-1409. CT-1409.

Something in you crashed. You knew the clones of the Republic had numbers just like those. 

Did you accidentally hack into a Republic channel!?

“Uh…shit.” You mumbled, scrambling to find a way to be as unthreatening as possible, “W-where are you?” 

-Citadel. Citadel. Get to the ship. Must protect the ship. 

The Citadel? That's a separatist prison made specifically for Jedi. What the fuck is going on!?

That couldn’t be right. Your computers were telling you that the signal was coming from Skako Minor, “Are you alone?” You asked, carefully.

-Fives. Fives. Fives. Where's Fives? Where’s Fives?

Fives…a fellow clone, most likely. 

“Do you need help?” Your eyes roamed the computer in front of you. This program was sounding more and more like a disoriented person in desperate need of help.

Please. Please. Please. Help. Help. Get to the ship.

Your blood ran cold, “Don’t…don’t worry. I��ll think of something. I’ll contact the Republic to help you.” You swallowed, “I have your clone number. But what's your actual name?”

I am Echo. I am Echo. I am Echo.

Dance (Padme x Reader)

CW: politics, political scheming, Padme being a lovely queen, I am actually in love with her

She was certainly a beautiful woman. Senator Amidala. 

You, a senator of Confederacy of Independent Systems, were attending something of a ball in Sataran, one of the neutral planets. It was another useless attempt for peace. 

Your fellow colleagues were tense and unhappy, after all, the Jedi and some of their own clone slaves were acting security. 

You…didn’t entirely care. The Jedi, even with all their problems, weren't going to slaughter unarmed politicians. Besides, you had better things to focus on. 

Such as a fascinating senator. 

Padme Amidala was well known, even to the politics of the CIS. A driver of peace. A symbol of a united galaxy. Someone who is trying to end the war with as little blood shed as possible. She was speaking with one of your colleagues, Senator Sapha. 

You stood, and approached. In another time, maybe you could have been friends. But tonight, you had information. Information that may secure you a position in the Republic.

This war will end badly for the CIS. You’ve seen the patterns. The losses. you needed allies for when the Republic wins. 

“Senator Amidala?” You spoke her name and she turned, “May I have this dance?” You introduced yourself with a bow and an open hand. 

She gave you a critical gaze and a careful smile, “Of course.”

You both walked to the dance floor, listening to the music. Just as predicted, you had eyes on you. Behind her, one of the Jedi guards was glaring at you. His arms were crossed, and his gaze intense. 

You gave him a smirk and began a slow waltz. 

Someone is jealous. Unrequited love? Or a secret relationship?

“I don’t believe I've had the pleasure,” Padme spoke as you two danced to the slow ballroom music.

“Neither have I.” You responded, “We share a former mentor. Mina Bonteri.”

“Mina?” She was surprised at such a revelation, “It’s a surprise we haven’t met before.” 

That Jedi was still glaring, so you decided to play.

You put your foot between hers and spun, performing a quick sacada, “I know. It's a shame this war has stopped us from making friends, isn't it?” The music picked up, and so did your movements. She followed your lead with skill. 

Her eyes narrowed. Oh, she was searching. What for?

Information? Or was she like you, wanting more allies on either side? This game was a ladder. You and her were both trying to climb. 

She twirled under your hand and you pulled her close, “What do you want?” 

Bingo.

“The end of the war,” You lied, “And the only way we can achieve that is by making friends.” Your body leaned, dipping her deeply, “Don’t you agree?”

She smirked, knowing this game well, “I do.” She stood, this time pulling you. The senator of Naboo was attempting to take the lead, “But something tells me it’s not about that.”

“You found me out.” You spun her, spotting how angry that Jedi looked.

Cute.

“And what is it you had to pull me into a dance to tell me?” She was straight forward, you liked it. 

“I’m rather selfish, I need you to pass a message for me,” You whispered, leaning forward and disguising your words under a close ocho, “And there are eyes on us.”

Padme pulled back and spun again before walking a circle around you. Your hands connected again and you both became close once more, “A warning.” She confirmed. 

“There’s a traitor on your senate. Someone who is gaining more power in this war,” You whispered, leaning and dipping her again. Her expression gave nothing away. 

She was skilled at this game.

“Who?” She asked, as soon as she was standing again. 

The music had picked up, and the both of you were in a simple but intimate tango. 

“I don’t know,” You admitted, “But I have my own web. It’s someone high up in the Republic food chain.” 

Padme stole the lead again, this time, bringing you into a twirl. Her hands shifted, grabbing your waist and even the side of your neck, “What do you want in return for this information?” 

“You to join my web.” You whispered, “And I’ll join yours. It’ll be a mutual agreement.” 

“That's all?”

“Amnesty, as soon as the Republic wins this war.” You took the lead again. The music was ending, and soon your conversation would need to be cut short, “I need to secure my future. Surely you understand.” 

“I do.” She said as you dipped her again in time with the song.

The both of you were breathing heavily as you looked down at her. The song ended and you pulled her to stand again. There was fascination and interest in her brown eyes. 

Seems you charmed her. 

“Thank you for this dance, Senator Amidala.” You took her hand and kissed her knuckles. She didn’t look away as you did so. 

“No, thank you.” She had a small smile, “I’d like another dance sometime tonight.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You winked and stepped away. 

Time to get back to the political game.

[drawingdroid]

Drawing Droid’s chaotic Masterlist

Hi, I’m Terry, a Spanish Illustrator & Art teacher who is too obsessed with a space dad and his green child. I love writing fics of them as well as doodling anything Star Wars-related. Thank you for sticking with me on this adventure, see you around. 🩵

General info of interest idk

🩵 You can find all my art under #droiddraws and my writings as #droidwrites

🩵 Currently, I write Din Djarin x GN!Reader or Din Djarin x M!Reader (transmasc)

🩵 I update on AO3 here

One Shots

To be taken care of 🍾 AFAB Bounty Hunter Reader | Smut 🔥

Sweet Potato 🍠 Modern AU | GN Reader | Neighbours | Fluff

Five days with Din Djarin 🔧 GN Engineer Reader | Smut 🔥

Good Team Trans Din Djarin x Female Bounty Hunter Reader | Smut

Series

The Unknown Regions 🪐 Plus Size Fem Reader | Adventure, Fluff and Smut 🗓️ Complete

That damn teal armor! 🔪Transmasc Mando Reader | Angst, Fluff and Smut 🗓 Ongoing

Melting Point 🌋 Modern AU | Sculptor Din Djarin | Art PhD Fem Reader | Slow Burn 🗓️ On hiatus

Gifts & Requests

Boba Fett x Medic Fem Reader Imagine | Smut | Drabble

Count Dooku x Dressmaker Fem Reader | One shot | Smut & Romance | Age Gap

Sketches

Vader under the suit red and blue

Anakin and Padme

Revenge of the Sith Happy Ending AU

Agent Whiskey and Grogu

Grogu Doodles here, here and here 💚

Silly Thanksgiving Din

Bento Box Grogu

Tired Din in suspenders

Cowboy Grogu

Menstrual cup Din

Confused Din Djarin

Oil on canvas Din process and finished

Here I put all my fav fics and art from other creators I love! Don’t wanna have that gems lost in the vastness of the internet!

Fav Art

That amazing comics of Din and Grogu that make me cry @abigaillarson

Best SW comics in the galaxy @stealingpotatoes

Supreme Din Djarin Art @immarocketman

Din an Grogu being cute & chaotic af by @wwapich

The cutest SW chibis @nikkigam

@kate-komics is who I aspire to be as a comic artist

Fav Fics

Sweetest Modern Din Djarin AU @604to647

All my fav Pedro Boys by @fuckyeahdindjarin

The cutest Din!!! By @thefrogdalorian

Everything by @beskarandblasters honestly

Other

The dividers we can’t live without from @saradika @saradika-graphics

[rochenn]

Thinking about Dooku in distress and pain is one of my favorite things ever. Makes my heart swell. I should pull up some old whumptober prompts or whatever and practice writing drabbles, that would probably be sexy