#Wampa asks

[wampabampa]

What size of canvas do you use on procreate? I’m still learning how to use it and my drawings always somehow ends up blurry— I’m begging on my knees here for any advice

Hi hi! So the canvas size I usually use on procreate is either screen size (2360 x 1640) or paper size (11 x 8.5) I don’t really like the other sizes, and with these t gives me PLENTY of room to doodle, paint, etc!

Also try out different pen sizes! I know that if I drew on a screen size canvas on a 4% size of my pen I use it would be blurry, so normally I draw with 70% (almost full size) or lower to avoid blurryness!

This is what I always use

[shaved-wampa]

Ayo, took a little scroll through your blog after seeing that awesome post about Bode’s motivation on my dash and just wanted to say I would love to read that fic you’re working on whenever you post it. As much as I enjoy SpyScrapper myself, we have been sorely slacking on writing Bode-centric stuff without Cal around, so I’m glad to see someone willing to help fill that niche. (I’m a firm believer in unfridging Tayala through the power of fanfic, I just need to find an actual plot someday, lol) Anyway, yeah, cool to find another Bode enjoyer. Hope you have a good day!

Hi! Thanks for the message 💛

I would be obnoxiously happy if you read it after it's out 😊

Just to warn you and any other interested parties, though: it's with an OC and it's F/M. And the OC is no carefree young thing, she's also a 35+ single parent with lots of baggage - I made him a friend from the olden days when he had a wife and a happy life, which he meets randomly while on an assignment from the Imps.

Tayala is in there only as a shared memory and trauma, which Bode (hopefully, it's still in progress) will get to dig up and heal a little. I'm kinda trying to put his family back together, but with an old-new piece for a mother.

Reason: I rarely ship. I rarely identify with an already existing character enough to feel it, to get in their head, and since all of my writing is inspired by my actual feelings for this or that blorbo, I really need to do that. So it's usually a self-insert, modified to a varying degree, to fit the narrative.

If all that won't stop you from enjoying Bode romance, I will be overjoyed for any and all interactions with what I write! 💛

Very cool to meet another Bode enjoyer, I've been feeling very alone in that 😆 You too and see ya around!

[anakinskywalkerog]

I would die to be attacked by a alien polar bear just so that Ani could come rescue me and then hold my hand as the color returns to my cheeks um, thank you sincerely for what will now be my chosen scenario to think about as I’m falling asleep

wow so happy that you will be thinking of dear Anakin as you drift off to dreamland, join the club 🤓

sincerely glad you like the fic, i’m a bit down today and these messages are making me feel 🥰🥰🥰🥰

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Toshia Mori (The Bitter Tea of General Yen, Blondie Johnson)—i think Toshia Mori is a great example of someone who clearly had the makings and charisma of a star & who its easy to imagine thriving in a less white supremacist system than 20s and 30s hollywood. she began acting in silent movies in the late 20s, and in 1932 was selected as a "WAMPAS Baby Star" which was an annual promotion of promising up-and-coming young actresses by the Western Association of Motion Picture Advertisers, becoming the first Asian woman to do so. previous baby stars included Clara Bow, Joan Crawford, and Joan Blondell, and another 1932 honoree was Ginger Rogers. this likely led to her most sizeable role in The Bitter Tea of General Yen (unfortunately a movie with a lot of orientalism going on and white actors in yellowface). she was well received but the studio seemed to lose interest in her career and she largely continued to get bit parts; her last appearance was in a Charlie Chan movie in 1937. she deserved better!!

Veronica Lake (I Married a Witch, Sullivan's Travels)—her look is so iconic they used her as a visual model for jessica rabbit in who framed roger rabbit and a bunch of other femme fatale types in cartoons and live action alike. i didnt think i liked women and then i saw her in sullivans travels and said gee i hope this doesnt awaken anything in me! every role ive seen her in she absolutely oozes an aura of "i know people would ask me to step on them" and her EYES bro every photo ive looked at for this submission its like shes piercing thru time and space to judge me <3

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Toshia Mori:

Veronica Lake:

Her HAIR, her FIGURE, her VOICE, the way she wore LEATHER AND SANG SONGS FOR NO REASON.

I don't believe there's a person on earth who can watch Veronica Lake in I Married A Witch and not be struck by how gorgeous she is. She had that youthful wonder about her that almost every Hollywood starlet was trying to achieve. Her hairstyle (peekaboo bangs) became an iconic Hollywood style after she popularized it, and made her signature look all the more suggestive. Also, witches are tumblrs favorite!

ICONIC hair sweep

The US government literally begged her to change her hairstyle because it was TOO HOT to handle and women who copied it were getting their hair caught in machinery

Her hairstyle was so iconic and popular that the war department had to come out with a PSA instructing lady ironworkers with ways they could pin their hair up to avoid it getting bound in machinery. [https://veteranlife.com/military-history/veronica-lake/]

She played a lot of femme fatale roles but my favorite is Sullivan’s Travels opposite Joel McRea, which is a comedy. She became famous for her hair style at the time—she wore it long and parted on one side so it would fall over half her face in a very sexy way. They called it a peek-a-boo I think. You’ve definitely seen Bugs Bunny dressed up like her, so I think if she’s being honored in such a way she’s very cool.

look at her

she's GORGEOUS in her little witch outfits that she wore for promos and also in the oversized coats and pajamas she wore throughout the movie...she's got RANGE

My Grandpa supposedly dated her in high school, he drove her to school in his car every day. This is legend in the family.

She has gorgeous hair, has got the smouldering look over the shoulder down PAT, and is just drop-dead gorgeous too!

Schizophrenic icon, popularized the peekaboo hairdo long before Jessica Rabbit

She’s just so prettyyyyy

So much hot in such a tiny package. She was no more than 5 feet tall, and some reports claim as small as 4'9"

If you picture a femme fatale in your head, almost certainly Veronica Lake had a hand in shaping the image you think of. She came to embody the look of the noir leading lady as well as the sound and the performance. Certified Noir Baddie.

[laz-laz-ace-pilot]

Plushie Fundraiser For Gaza

Hi everyone. The situation in Gaza is getting worse by the day and donations are desperately needed. With that in mind, I'm going to be offering handmade and commission plushies to help raise funds.

What I'm making

- For Star Wars fans

I have several patterns already for smaller star wars creatures, including for tookas, varactyls, banthas and more! All of these are available as larger plushies, as well as wampas and rancors, plus some droids like BD1. If there's another star wars critter you'd like that's not listed, I would happily draw up a pattern and make them!

(Please excuse the quality of photos)

- For animal and dinosaur fans

I have plenty of patterns for a wide range of animals and dinosaurs and would be happy to make any of these; again if I don't have a pattern I will happily draw one up for you!

I can also supersize any pattern for giant plushies!

What you need to do

-Contact me if you're interested so we can discuss fabrics, colours and size

-Make a donation to UNRWA, PCRF or one of the verified family fundraisers. Send me a receipt of your donation and I will send back confirmation that I've begun working on your commission

- All donations are welcome and seriously needed, but in order to make this fundraiser viable I'm asking for $25 donation for small plush, $45 for large plush and $70 for giant plush. Donate over $100 and within reason I'll make whatever you want!

- If you want to tip me for postage that would be greatly appreciated! Otherwise, if posting a plush to you is not an option, I'll happily send you the pattern for a $10 donation

Please help reblog this post so it can reach as many people as possible

Please help people in Gaza and if you have any questions let me know!

Update (15/02/24): $45 donated!!!

Update (16/02/24): we're at $70!

Update (19/02/24): we're at $100! Thank you everyone!

Update (06/05/24) the fundraiser is on hold for now

[phoenixkaptain]

Luke’s biggest character flaw isn’t impatience or arrogance… it’s reckless optimism.

Like, Luke doesn’t actually think he can beat Darth Fucking Vader in a fight. He wants to get revenge, yeah, but he doesn’t think he’s a better fighter than Darth Vader, he thinks he’s luckier than Darth Vader.

Luke isn’t actually suicidal, despite how little effort you’d have to put in to provide evidence that he could be. He thinks, no, he knows he’s lucky. He’s used to being lucky, even. His survival tactics all sort of depend on Luke being the luckiest person in the room at any given time.

And he isn’t actually all that lucky, that’s pretty obvious, but he really just thinks “If I stay alive long enough, things will eventually just work out.” Like he believes in the Force before he even knows about the Force, almost. Some thingd are just supposed to happen, and his own continued existence as a free man is one of those things, so if he waits long enough, an opportunity will eventually show itself and all Luke has to do is grab it.

He is stupidly optimistic about his chances. But, he’s also not wrong? Like, he doesn’t win his fight against Vader, but he’s also one of the only people who have fought Vader twice and not died either time. He went and rescued Leia without a plan beyond “rescue Leia” and he made it out relatively unscathed. He got captured by a wampa and hypothermia, one right after the other, and he only has to spend a bit of time floating in space jell-o that isn’t quite set. He goes to Dagobah and gets the training he requests from Yoda, despite Yoda not wanting to train him. He rescues Han from Jabba the Hutt, and he doesn’t get fed to a sarlacc in the process.

But really, just look at his final fight with Vader. Luke just honestly believes that everything will be fine. He really thinks he can just ask his dad to please chill out and Vader will. Luke tells the literal actual Emperor of the entire fucking galaxy “No. I will not become evil. And I won’t be evil because I’m not actually angry at anyone.” Luke is the luckiest man alive, because he is still somehow alive.

Heir to the Empire really has him thinking “If I stay alive long enough, an opportunity will present itself” on the planet Myrkr. As in, the planet covered in ysalamiri that cut him off entirely from the Force. As in, Luke doesn’t feel the Force telling him to be patient because it’ll all work out. Luke just believes that.

And it only really hit me as I read that novel. Luke is aggressively, stupidly, recklessly optimistic at all times about his chances of survival. Like, he is one meta joke away from just being actively aware that he is a protagonist and therefore can’t die in the middle of a plot. He’s optimistic about his own life, his dad’s life, his sister’s life, his droid’s life; Luke is the most optimistic man alive.

He is not the most cheerful person. There’s a difference between optimism and happiness, and Luke is a character who is constantly doubting himself, but he also just fully believes in his own ability to stay alive. Like he thinks “As long as I’m in mostly one piece, that’s a success :)” He thinks “wow I’m a terrible Jedi. I don’t know what a Jedi is, but I’m pretty sure I suck at it,” while at the same time being the character who believes in and listens to the Force more than Qui-Gon Jinn.

All this to say, I really hope that one day I can be as optimistic as Luke Skywalker. That man felled a galactic Empire with enthusiastic optimism and familial love alone, I wanna be like that.

[techwrecker]

The Bad Batch & The Carnival HCs

Tech: Has the absolute time of his life on the rollercoasters because logically, he knows they are safe. Besides, "that's what rollercoaster engineers are for." He's always down for a calculated thrill— and his great driving reflects that! He definitely whispers trajectories to Echo and Wrecker so they can optimize their winnings at the game booths.

Omega: Has to build her way up to the bigger rollercoasters and will only go if at least one of her brothers goes with her but ends up loving the teacup rides. Once she's been on one ride/rollercoaster, she wants to go multiple times in a row. She speeds around begging Hunter for tickets to play the various games that everybody knows are scams, but they want her to have fun. The guys all cheer her on at whatever game she attempts to win.

Hunter: Absolutely hates the rollercoasters. All that wind and whipping around really deprives him of his heightened senses and it really freaks him out. He doesn't mind the drop ones as much. He's the one out of the group to watch the bags/equipment while the rest have fun on the rides like the dad he is. He can be coerced into just about any ride if Omega gives him her baby porg puppy-dog eyes, though. He's really good at the house of mirrors and will ask Tech to time him, each time getting faster. His fastest record was 84 seconds.

Wrecker: He likes a thrill ride but is mostly at there for the food. Has to be warned multiple times to slow down so he doesn't puke it all up after. He's great at the milk bottle knock down game & chooses more food tickets as his prize. He and Omega share everything from cotton candy to corndogs. His favorite food booth was the meat-on-a-stick vendor that sold meats from all over the galaxy. He up winning a Wampa stuffie bigger than he is. Of course, gifts it to Omega who names it Rekkie. Dominates at the arm wrestling game.

Crosshair: Is an ace at the shooting/ring toss games and gives the vendor a run for their money. He also bonds with Omega on the shooting games. He gives her tips on how to steady her hand and aim well. He will go on rollercoasters but he rarely screams or puts his hands up but only because he feels awkward doing so, not because he is having a bad time. Him and Echo will sometimes bet on who can straight face it the best. Crosshair usually ends up winning.

Echo: Unlike Hunter, rollercoasters are his favorite thing at the carnival. He enjoys the sensory overload because it gives him a break from thinking for a short time. He and Tech tag team the guessing games and win a giant container of Mantell Mix. After awhile though, he will keep Hunter company on the ground. They will plan which coaster/game/attraction to see next using the cartoon map they picked up at the entrance.

Bonus lil drabble: Once they're back on the Marauder, and Wrecker finally managed to shove the gigantic stuffie into the hull, Omega and Batcher curl up and fall asleep together on Rekkie after her long day of exhausting fun. Tech begins to flip on the ships controls to get ready to take off for Pabu. Echo handles the music, but keeps it at a low, soothing volume. The two reminisce about all the funny moments of the day. Hunter heads back to the shower to clean up, dropping his headband gently onto Omega's chest. She sighs contentedly in her sleep and grasps the strip of red fabric to pull up by her face, inhaling deeply because Hunter smells like safety. Crosshair sits in the back of the hull by the navicomp and tips his head back, helmet resting over his eyes to get a little rest before the shower frees up. For the first time, in a long time, he drifts off with a smile. And Wrecker munches the last of the Mantell Mix, but leaves a handful left for Omega. After all the missions and grueling adventures, it was nice for The Bad Batch to have a relaxing day under the suns.

[corazondebeskar-reads]

well it's love, make it hurt - ch. 9

nine: it doesn't feel a thing like falling

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

dom!Din Djarin x sub!f!reader

Word Count: 2.6k

Summary: You discover the Razor Crest has a cell for bounties. Mando is more than happy to make use of it.

Warnings: bdsm, established relationship, dom!Din Djarin x sub!reader, restraints, caging, spanking, cockwarming, oral (m receiving), gags, aftercare, soft dom Din, no y/n

Originally written for Kinktober Day 24 - brat/caging, inspired by @absurdthirst’s wonderful prompt list.

also on ao3

You hadn’t managed to catch Vanda at the coordinates Madame Anissa gave you, but you had managed to get a tracker on one of his associates’ ships. It takes a little of the pressure off, which is good because chasing these fuckers is eating up your fuel budget.

You’d caught a little easy money on the way and stopped to drop them off. Vanda and his gaggle of ex-ISB are just a few planets over. You're up in the cockpit, Mando punching in his calculations for the nav, when you notice a soft hissing noise from below.

“Shit, those idiots didn’t reconnect the seal,” he says, moving to stand.

“I got it.” Better than taking over the jump. Someday, you'd pay better attention or ask him to teach you, but right now, you'd be about as much use as a Wampa herder on Tatooine.

When you get into the back of the ship, it takes a few minutes to figure out how to engage the re-sealing process. You haven’t technically been back here. When you first started flying with Mando, you had peeked, but the carbonite bodies were too unsettling.

You were more than happy to let him continue to haul them to the ship and ice them.

It’s not too complicated of a system, so once you're satisfied you won’t be poisoned from a gas leak, you close and lock the panel.

And then you see it.

To the left of the empty carbonite storage is a small cell with floor-to-ceiling bars, big enough for one large being. Mando always froze bounties, and it hadn’t occurred to you that the Crest was even equipped to hold an alert quarry.

You reach out. Like your hand is drawn to it without your consent, testing the lightest touch with the pads of your fingertips. It's cold and rough metal. You wrap your hand around a bar and shake, but it has no give.

“What are you doing?” Mando says.

You jump about an inch out of your skin. “How are you so fucking quiet?”

He doesn’t bother to answer you, instead slowly looking you up and down. “What are you doing, cyar’ika?”

“Oh, um.” You let go of the bar. “Just, uh.”

He cups your cheek in one gloved hand. “Just a little curious?”

“Yep, and now I’ve seen it, so.”

His grip tightens, holding your jaw when you move to sneak around him. “No, don’t run off.”

Oh, kriff. His voice is low and breathy. You try to hold very still.

He chuckles. “Go on, cyar’ika. You can take a closer look.”

You don’t move, don’t dare look away.

He reaches behind you and punches something into the keypad. The door pops open, the metallic vibrations reverberating in the small room.

His hand lowers to your shoulder, and he pushes, oh so gently, until you take a step back. And another.

He shuts the door. The lock slides into place with a clunk and a sharp beep.

You’re still staring at each other. You wet your lips with the tip of your tongue and step forward, grabbing the bars in each hand.

“You going to keep me locked up in here?” You’re not sure where the boldness comes from, but you put on your best pout.

“Maybe I should. Keep you out of trouble.”

“I won’t be any trouble. I’ll be good. Promise.”

You both know he’s going to let you out. You have to be buckled in for takeoff. But just for a moment, you’re entranced.

He laughs. “I don’t know. Sluts like you don’t know how to be good.”

You’re aching. Dripping. Salivating.

“Please, sir?”

“You have one chance,” he says, reaching to open the cell. He pulls you out by the arm. “Get your ass in your seat and be buckled before I get up there.”

You scramble to obey. By the time he climbs the ladder, you’re squirming, one knee jerking up and down in a fluttering rhythm.

He doesn’t say anything. He looks you over and then straps himself in. By the time you’re on the route, you’ve nearly edged yourself in anticipation. So when he unstraps himself and moves about the cabin without giving you permission to get up, you whine.

“I thought you were going to be good?” he calls from somewhere behind you.

You swallow down the next whine, but you’re losing the battle.

He goes back to his seat, legs spread wide. “What are you waiting for? Get over here.”

You gasp. “But—”

“But what? Make yourself useful, or you’re going back in the cell.”

You feel a little lightheaded. This isn’t his style, but it’s fucking thrilling. You scramble to unbuckle and situate yourself on your knees at his feet.

He looks down at you, helmet tilted. You open your mouth and stick your tongue out.

“Maybe you do have a brain in there somewhere and not just a warm hole,” he says.

You can’t help the desperate groan that escapes your waiting mouth. He sticks two gloved fingers in, pressing down on your tongue.

“Listen,” he snaps his fingers in front of your face. “I have things to take care of. I don’t have time to keep you out of trouble. So what you’re going to do is sit here and keep my cock warm so I can keep an eye on you. Understood?”

You nod, which pushes his fingers deeper into your throat. He pulls his hand out and slaps you across the face.

“I expect an answer when I ask you a question,” he says.

“Yes, sir.”

He slaps you again. “That wasn’t a fucking question.”

You moan.

“Yeah, I know. All you can think about is cock.” He pulls his out, and you move to take it.

He grabs you by the hair and holds you an inch away. “You’re going to hold still. No licking. No sucking. You’re only here so I have a warm, wet place to keep my dick.” And then he shoves you on it, pushing your head down on his lap.

It takes a lot of effort to hold still. You swallow a little too hard once, and he swats you on the ass.

His arms wrap around you, and you think maybe you can relax, after all. His scent and heft are soothing, and his embrace is nice.

Until he reaches for the datapad, and you realize he’s using your back as a fucking table.

You moan, eyes rolling back into your head, and he spanks you harder.

He pulls you off by your hair. “You really don’t want to be distracting me right now,” he says and pushes you right back down on his cock.

It’s agony. Every so often, he twitches a little, or precum leaks out, and you can’t do anything about it, and your throat aches. Not because he’s hurting you but because you need it, you need him. You don’t mean to, but you rock back and forth a little.

He doesn’t pull you off this time. He wraps his hands around your neck and squeezes the sides. It doesn’t last long, just enough that you start to feel tingly, and he lets go. Somehow, by the light of the stars, you hold still when he releases you.

“Oh, good girl,” he croons, rewarding you with a soft caress on your cheek.

You do okay for a while. It feels like an hour, but you have a bad feeling it’s only been five or so minutes.

The worst part is that you can’t stop thinking about what he’s doing on the datapad. He sure as hell doesn’t have work of any kind. The idea that he might be sat there watching a holo or reading while you suffer makes you a little petulant.

When you just can’t take it anymore, you start to test your boundaries. He doesn’t react when you squeeze your throat just a little. You press your tongue gently against the underside of his cock. You shift a little to ease the ache between your thighs and earn a hit for it.

You whine, and he yanks your head off his cock. “Naughty girl. You just can’t help yourself, can you?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s not an acceptable answer.” He yanks you up so your top half is dangling off the side of the seat, holding you down securely by the waist, and spanks you.

There’s no build-up, no breaks. He doesn’t even make you count. You’re getting dizzy. All you can do is lay there and take it, huffing little moans and yelps. It hurts, and your skin is burning, but you’re rolling your hips against his leg.

“Are you going to cum from this?”

You moan, trying to grind down on his knee.

Smack. “Go on then, slut. Cum.” He doesn’t let up, landing sharp, hard strikes while you fall apart.

Once you’ve ridden out the aftershocks, he runs his hand across your ass. The gloves are rough, leaving you whining as they scrape your raw skin.

“Well, we can hardly consider that a lesson learned. Get down there and wait for me by the ladder.” He lands another hard hit to your ass once you’ve stood.

When he gets down, he pushes you against the wall and cuffs your wrists behind your back. He uses your arms to steer you to the back of the ship.

“No, please,” you beg. “I can be good, I promise.”

"Then you should have been good upstairs. Too late for that now."

He pushes you against the bars, laughing when you yelp from the cold. “Open wide, cyar’ika.”

You do, and from behind you, he fits a ring gag into your mouth and secures it behind your head.

“What do you do if you need to use your word, pretty girl?”

You snap your fingers three times behind your back.

“Good girl. Now get on your knees in the cell.” He pushes you in and locks the gate.

You drop down, wincing as you hit the durasteel floor. But your head is fuzzy, and your clit is throbbing, and the only thing that matters is Mando.

You’re looking up at him with wide eyes, offering yourself up to be consumed. He reaches down and tugs you by your collar until your face is pressed against the bars. There’s just enough room for him to shove his cock into your mouth.

“Go ahead, suck it.”

You whine, flattening your tongue and licking, but you have no way to get more of him in your mouth and no way to properly worship it.

He feeds a little more of it in. “I thought you wanted to suck my cock, cyar’ika? It’s right there.”

You whine again, saliva pooling and dripping to the floor.

“What, you need some help?” He grabs a handful of hair and holds you there, thrusting deep into your throat.

It’s not enough. You ache for him. His thick cock fills you and bruises the back of your throat, but it’s not what you need. It’s not what he’s ordered you to do, and you aren’t used to not being able to obey.

He sees the tears before they fall and brushes them away. “I know, cyare, I’m being very cruel to you. But I have no choice. You were being so greedy.”

Your eyes roll back into your head, and, even though you know it’s convoluted, it makes you feel better. You’re not disobeying; you’re suffering for him.

Your chest hurts. The ache spreads through your arms and brings more tears to your eyes. You need him. You need this.

His thrusts are getting rougher, and you’re having a hard time thinking at all.

“You’re taking it so good for me, sweetheart. You want my cum?”

You whine desperately around him.

Mando thinks about teasing you. But he can’t, not when he can see the adoration and devotion in your eyes. He relaxes his grip on your hair, sliding his hand to gently cup your chin, and pushes deep into your throat to cum.

You moan, drinking him down.

When he pulls out, you lower yourself to rest on your legs. He punches in the code and helps you out before sitting on the floor right there in the chamber and pulling you into his lap.

He unhooks the gag and eases it out of your mouth, rubbing gentle circles on the hinges of your jaw. You’re looking at him with a trembling lip and something on the edge of desperation. He removes his gloves and tosses them to the side, running one bare hand up and down your arm and sliding the other between your legs.

“Oh, cyare, you’re soaked. Let me help you.”

You’re hoping for something rough to shake away the rawness; he knows that. But it’s not what you need, so he rubs soft circles around your clit. You shudder and jerk, but he holds you tight with his other arm.

“Shh, just let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”

You dig your fingers into his tunic and tuck your face against him as you try to ride out the sensations. It’s so intense, and he’s barely touching you.

He knows you’re close, but he doesn’t change a thing. You’re going to break anyway.

It’s agony. Exquisite, terrible pleasure. Your abdomen feels tight, stretched like a slingshot, and you’re not sure if he’s going to let go before you snap. But you trust that either way, he’ll put you back together.

You bite down on his arm when he tells you to cum. You don’t mean to, but the scream that wrenches out of you is too much to bear, and your body can’t help but follow its instincts for self-preservation.

Luckily, unlike in a fight, you don’t tear his flesh or his shirt. He groans, deep and long, holding you against him even as your body rides through the aftershocks.

“Fuck, that was beautiful,” he says after you’ve released him.

“M’sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologize. You okay?”

You nod, but he knows you.

He knows you in his heart, and he picks you up and sets you in the bunk just as you start to sob. He climbs in and holds you to his chest until you calm down.

“Ner kar’ta,” he murmurs, pressing his helmet to your forehead. “Thank you. You’re so good to me.”

You don’t have the energy to talk, so you press kisses against his chest and snuggle in. You were drifting off when he nudged you.

“Cyar’ika, you’re shaking. That was pretty intense, and I’d like to get some food in you.”

You whimper and bury your face in his shirt.

“You wanna stay down here, read in the bunk?” he offers. “I can leave the door open if you need.”

“Okay.”

He tucks you in. “I’ll be right back.” He ducks upstairs for just a moment and returns with the datapad, setting it on your lap and handing you a full canteen and a few of your favorite amethyst sweetbreads.

“You can shut the door,” you say softly.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I know you’re right there. But I…I dunno.”

“You liked being locked in, huh? Makes you feel safe?”

You nod, relieved that he understands what you couldn’t find the words to explain. Plus, you want him to be able to eat. You dutifully take a drink and eat a cookie so he can stop hovering.

When he closes the door and goes to make dinner, you turn on the datapad to read, but can’t fight the curiosity and flick through to figure out what he was doing while you had a mouthful of cock.

Your mouth drops open. That evil nerfherder. “You finished my kriffing crossword?”

His unmodulated laughter echoes through the hull.

[thenightmarketofdathomir]

Oh, dearest Wishmonger....

🎃 Trick or Treat 🎃

The one where they could all fit into that Backstreet Boys video.

(Reference)

Pairings: Darth Maul x Reader, Savage Opress x Reader, Feral x Reader Rating: Explicit Warnings: Monsterfucking, omegaverse stuff, blood

Feral: You need a whole body to raise the dead with the Talisman of Resurrection. Feral had half of one. Not in the best condition. You wrapped him with toilet paper. Rolls of it. Hiding the partial decomposition. From between the folds, he looks at you and grins, asking with that garbled rasp that's all consonants now, "Your sarcophagus or mine, love?"

Savage: Whoever found a fur coat big enough must have took down the wampa themselves. He looks good in all that white, chest bared to show off his markings. His claws already primed. The beard, though? That's a new addition that comes from the transformation. Not to mention the softball-sized knot that greets you once the wolf man drags you back to his lair later.

Maul: Nobody warns you just how sacred blood is to the Fanged God. Nobody warns you how eagerly you'll volunteer as tribute when it comes to his appetites either, but there you are with all your smooth skin bared in supplication. He sucks his fangs at you and adjusts his topcoat, his shirt cuffs, his ruff. Red eyes staring the longer you try to entice him. "When I asked for a taste, I meant from another vein, my dear," he purrs. That's how you land with your back on the brocade duvet, his teeth in your femoral artery, his fingers in your pussy.

[separatist-apologist]

So you miss people asking you to rank things? Could you rate/rank acotar characters (of your choice) as Star Wars fans on a scale from “makes it their entire identity/personality” to “hater and they like people to know it” 👀

I'm gonna do men again, just because its 9 people

9. Eris Vanserra- Way too pretty to know ANYTHING about Star Wars.

8. Jurien- Isn't that a movie for children? He's pretty sure it is, but he's also judging you about it.

7. Tamlin- He's seen it and it was fine. It's just...it's a movie?

6. Tarquin- Tried to do a marathon once, didn't even make it to the Duel of the Fates in A Phantom Menace.

5. Azriel- Did you say Lord of the Rings? Well, that's what he heard you say and actually, did you know when Viggo Mortensen hit that helmet in Two Towers he broke his toes-

4. Lucien- Excellent background noise. Pretty sure he's seen the whole trilogy via Disney+ and chill. If you ask him, he'll lie and say his favorite character is Princess Leia when in truth, he doesn't have strong enough feelings to have a favorite character

3. Kallias- The Empire Strikes Back Hoth scene, specifically where Luke is taken by the wampa really captured Kallias's imagination. It's the best film, he doesn't care WHAT you have to say about it and actually, he'll fight.

2. Cassian- Big into the prequels. King of the memes, really loves The Clone Wars. "C'mon Nesta, put on the costume for me. Just once. No I'm not gonna be Jabba obviously I'm Han-"

Rhys- IDC what anyone says, Rhys is king of the fucking nerds. B I G opinions about the sequel trilogy, swears the Binary Sunset (Force Theme) changed his whole life. "ITS LIKE POETRY IT RHYMES" okay Rhys calm down

[kaminocasey]

25 Days of Life Day: Day 23 - Making Snow Angels with Anakin

Warnings: None. Fluff.

Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

A/N: Can you believe there's only 2 days left in the 25 Days of Life Day???? I'm so grateful to everyone that has participated, read, commented, liked, reblogged, etc. <3

25 Days of Life Day Masterlist

Anakin stands at the doorway of the barracks, hands held behind his back, staring thoughtfully, watching as the 501st, Ahsoka, and you, run amuck in the snow, flinging snowballs at each other, building a terrible ‘snow wampa’, and just overall laughing and having a good time.

“You could come and join us, you know.” You see him watching you.

He smirks. “And possibly ruin the fun? No thank you. I’ll watch.” 

You let Fives take the reins on the wampa and walk up the ramp to the barracks, standing in front of Anakin. 

“It’s the opposite of sand. You should love it.” You try to coax him out, taking his flesh hand. 

He rolls his eyes and lets you guide him out into the snow. Rex leads the 501st away from you and the General to give you a bit of privacy. That doesn’t mean that they won’t keep their eyes glued to the two of you.

Standing in front of Anakin, you pull his coat up just a bit closer to him. “See? Not so bad, right?” 

Anakin had been under a lot of fire with the council lately, you know that much. So, it’s gonna be hard to get him to loosen up. But you’re willing to try.

You bend down and pick up a snowball, turning his hand over and placing it in it. He stares at it for a long minute before crushing it in his hand and letting the crushed slip through his fingers.

“Well, that was a bit aggressive.” You smirk up at him.

You start to lead him over to a fresh patch of snow and he gives you a questionable look.

“Just trust me, okay?” You request, giving him a soft look.

With a sigh, he nods. “What?”

You push him backwards so that he falls on his back, landing with an ‘oof’ and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips at the surprise on his face. Anakin really needed to lighten up and let loose and stop thinking so freaking much. It’s all he’s been doing lately, you can constantly feel tension radiating off of him.

“What the-” He starts but you stop him.

“Lay back.” You stand over him, smiling down at him.

“What?” He tilts his head. 

“Lay. Back.” You smirk.

He rolls his eyes, but lays back. “Now what?” 

You bend down and straighten his legs. “Straighten out your arms to your side.”

He does. “This is really cold, just so you know.”

“Will you shut up and just listen to me?” You laugh.

He groans but actually does. 

“Now, fan out your arms and legs, like this.” And pretend you're jumping jack. 

“You look ridiculous.” He grins, finally.

“Hey, if it makes you smile like that, it’s worth it. Now, do what I just told you to do.” You fall beside him and do your own. 

“What is this?” He asks as your hands just barely touch. 

“A snow angel.” You rest your cheek in the cool snow, grinning over at the Jedi knight. 

He looks over at you, curiously. “Now what?” 

You force jump up away from the snow angel so you don’t put a footprint into it. Anakin follows your lead and does the same thing. Staring down at your snow angels, that look like they’re touching, you can’t help the sudden warmness in your cheek. 

To say that you’ve been in love with Anakin wouldn’t be quite right. Or enough. Your connection with Anakin runs deeper than love. Something that teeters toward what could be the Dark Side, but neither of you acknowledge it. Sometimes, you think Obi-Wan senses it, too. But all he does is give you warning glances. 

Anakin leans against you a bit. “I’m sorry I’ve been so grouchy.”

You shrug. “I understand. The council’s been on your ass.” 

“It’s not fair to you.” He murmurs, his knuckles brushing against yours.

Looking up at him, you cup his cheek. “Ani… it’s alright.” 

All of a sudden, a snowball hits his back and splatters up into your face. Both of you whipping around quickly, you see Fives and Hardcase standing with fear on their faces. 

“501st!” Anakin shouts.

All the men of the 501st stand at attention, including a scared Fives and Hardcase. You can sense the humor radiating through Anakin, but they can’t.

“On my command, attack Fives and Hardcase with snowballs!” Anakin commands them. 

Hardcase and Fives stand there, nervously.

“Attack!” Anakin commands and all of a sudden, snowballs start flying, pelting Fives and Hardcase all over as they run for cover. 

Anakin grins down at you with a wink and then goes to join the fun. You find comfort in watching him finally let loose and enjoy the free time that you all have for the first time in a while, knowing that tomorrow, you’d be back to battles and seriousness. 

TAGS: @grievouus @brynhildrmimi @madameminor @dumfanting @rain-on-kamino @misogirl828 @rexandechosandwich @corona-one @tecker @ladykatakuri @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @twistedstitcher27 @zoeykallus @maulslittlemeowmeow @littlemousedroid @arctrooper69 @rexxdjarin @agenteliix @padawancat97 @hated-by-me @sleepingsun501 @crosshairmylove587 @idlenesses @redheadgirl

[rebelandrichgirl]

WIP ask meme

Thanks to @nessrealta for tagging me to talk about my WIPs.

Well, first there is Nal-Yoord which is a multichapter thing with some chapters already out actually. I still totally intend to finish this at some point. There are drafts of several more chapters on my google drive, but admittedly it got a little neglected over other ideas that I had in between.

The next one is a Vel/Kleya story. You think they're toxic exs?! You have no idea how toxic it actually was!! It's mainly set in Coruscant before Vel joins the rebellion. Cinta makes an appearance too.

And then I actually started to write this... Idk if it actually going to be that explicit or "fade to black" at a suitable moment. Anyway the working title is "Sharing a Wampa Fur" for now.

I hope to get at least one of the last two finished for Velcintaweek.

I tag @chipthekeeper @ireallyamabear @e-the-village-cryptid @livelaughleia @bloodsoaked-rainbows @spaceprincessleia

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 9

Only Ghosts

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings: angst; iconoclasm; the inevitability of time; boundary testing; SMUT; semi-public sex; accidental voyeurism; hair-pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol

Start here | Previous chapter | Next chapter | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

The galaxy had changed a lot in the last half century, but Coruscant still smelled the same. The stench hit Kix like a punch in the face when the shuttle doors opened. It wasn’t so bad on the upper levels, but it got noticeably worse as he descended. Captain Ithano had sent him a list of supplies to requisition when Kix notified the Meson Martinet that he was headed to the old capital, and most of them were only available from some of the shadier establishments in the Coruscant underworld. More than one of the items were a complete mystery to Kix, and he didn’t bother to ask exactly what it was that he was picking up for his totally legitimate, not-at-all-disreputable employer.

Republics and empires could rise and fall and rise again, but some things never changed, and black market dealers seemed to be a universal constant. Kix kept his head down and his blaster close. He wore his armor, craving both protection and anonymity. This deep in the city, it was always dark, and anyone who let down their guard was likely to get robbed or worse. He kept a watchful eye on the shadows, ignoring the fetid puddles and skittering vermin on the walkway. Ithano’s errands kept him busy most of the day, and his life was only threatened twice, which was a marked improvement over the last time he’d gone to level 1313. His last stop brought him near a familiar neighborhood, and as he headed back topside, Kix made an impulsive detour. 

The building still stood, of course. 79’s had been located in one of Coruscant’s massive skyscrapers, so it was no surprise that the platform and facade were still intact. But the bar itself had obviously gone out of business years or even decades earlier, and nothing had moved in to replace it. Even the iconic neon sign was still installed over the doors, though it was not illuminated any more, and he could see that the transparisteel was broken in several places. The doors were boarded up, but it was easy enough to work a few free so he could squeeze through the gap. He switched on his helmet light and looked around, wary of finding something—or someone—living in the derelict club. It looked like nobody had been inside since it closed.

The floor was littered with assorted detritus: broken glass, cocktail napkins, faded drink menus. A few crumbling pro-clone propaganda posters still hung on the walls: actual posters made of paper, not holosigns. He could see bits of graffiti scratched into some of the tables, and he laughed quietly as he remembered the night he had scrawled “Fives’s sister” next to a sketch of a wampa in the refresher.

Kark, he had so many memories of this place. He remembered his first trip to Coruscant as a wide-eyed shiny, dragged to the bar by his new brothers in the 501st, terrified the entire time that he was going to be reconditioned for breaking the regs. He’d overheard a cute civilian sigh, “Captain Keeli. The prettiest clone in the GAR.”  

Kix had spotted the legendary clone captain right away, sharing a drink with his Nikto Jedi General Di. That night, Kix went back to the barracks and drunkenly shaved his head in imitation of the older clone. Jesse had teased him relentlessly, telling him he’d gotten the pattern wrong. 

“I didn’t get it wrong,” Kix had retorted. “I made it my own.”

When the news came back that Captain Keeli, General Di, and their entire company of clone troopers had sacrificed themselves to protect the Twi’leks of Ryloth, Kix had kept the hairstyle to honor their memory and added a tattoo that read, A good droid is a dead one . 

He’d lost count of the nights he’d spent here, celebrating victories, mourning fallen brothers, searching for something more than the life of a man bred exclusively for war. Nights spent dancing and drinking with Jesse, Fives, Cerra, and Tup; nights spent seeking out nameless hookups with beings who only saw him as a piece of meat; nights spent brawling just to feel something, even if it hurt. Anything to drown out the screams of the brothers he couldn’t save, to drive away the memory of blood on his hands.

The last time he’d been here, he’d come with Jesse to celebrate his brother’s successful completion of ARC trooper training. It was his first time visiting the bar since the fateful night Fives had cornered him in the filthy bathroom, ranting about inhibitor chips and conspiracies and corruption at the highest levels of government. Kix had avoided the place after that, but Jesse had been so proud of his promotion, and he’d wanted to show off his new armor, and Kix had never been able to say no to Jesse. They’d started the night with tihaar shots, and then somebody had passed around tablets of sansanna spice. Kix had a vivid memory of a stunning Zeltron woman trailing her hand suggestively over Jesse's pauldrons.

“I like your armor," she'd said. "It’s so thoughtful of the Republic to provide leg rests.”

The night had degenerated into a wild blur of spice, booze, and anonymous sex after that. Jesse had loved every second of it. Kix, on the other hand, had been in full self-destruction mode after losing Fives and Tup, and that particular outing was when he hit the bottom. The next morning, bandaging his knuckles after a fight he didn’t remember, reeling from a nuclear hangover and a deep feeling of self-loathing, he’d commed Cerra and asked her to help him follow Fives’s investigation. He started by removing his inhibitor chip, growing his hair to cover the scar. It had been strange to let go of something that had been a part of his identity for so long. 

Without direct access to the Kaminoan data, it had taken months to uncover the full potential of the chips, and he’d been assigned to the mission on Skako Minor before he’d completed his investigation. Finding Echo alive had renewed Kix’s determination to save more of his brothers, and he’d redoubled his efforts. Within weeks, he found what he was looking for, and then the Separatists found him. 

He couldn’t save any of his brothers after all.

Kix took a long, last look around. The galaxy had moved on from the Clone Wars, and 79’s had failed to adapt and survive. All that remained of the clone bar was an empty shell, and only ghosts within.

It was late when Maree arrived on Coruscant. Teejay had booked a driver to pick her up from the spaceport and take her directly to her hotel at the top of one of the city’s gleaming towers. It had been a long day, and she desperately wanted to take a shower and go to bed. She stared at the garish holosigns that flashed by the speeder, replying mechanically to her driver’s inconsequential chatter.

It had taken longer than anticipated to receive approval for Kix to enter the Imperial Military Records Archive, and thus several days had passed since they had spent the night together. He hadn’t contacted her except to acknowledge that he’d received her message explaining the delay. The approval had arrived in the late afternoon, and Maree had Teejay book transport to Coruscant that night. As soon as she boarded the shuttle, she sent Kix a message with instructions to meet her at the archive the next morning.

Maree avoided Coruscant whenever she could. Something about the planet gave her the shudders. It was strange; she loved Hosnian Prime even though it was also an ecumenopolis. She had attended university on Coruscant and left the planet at the first opportunity. Accustomed as she was to the endless expanses on the planets of the Outer Rim territories, she felt claustrophobic and panicky among the towering spires and plastcrete canyons of Coruscant. At least on Hosnian Prime she could see the planet’s actual surface. The only way she could do that on Coruscant was to visit the peak of Mt. Umate in Monument Plaza, as if it were a curiosity or a tourist destination, and not the very foundation on which the ancient city was built.

But beyond all of that, Coruscant had always seemed to Maree to have an air of desperation. Strip away the glittering facade of the upper levels, and underneath one would find only pain and misery and exploitation. She was too young to remember Coruscant under Imperial rule, but she couldn’t imagine that much had changed with the formation of the New Republic. The corruption here was too systemic, too entrenched, to be undone with a mere regime change, no matter how determined or well-intentioned the government might be. It had been this way under the Old Republic; it had continued under the Empire; and there was no sign that anything had improved under the New Republic.

The soft chirp of her commlink startled Maree out of her pessimistic ruminations. It was a message from Kix.

Are you on 000?

She typed out a quick reply. Yes. Heading to my hotel now.

Have you eaten? He responded immediately.

Not yet, Maree typed. I was planning on getting room service.

Want some company? He replied.

Maree was a little surprised at the offer. She’d thought that his lack of communication had signaled that he wasn’t interested in continuing what they’d started his last night on Hosnian Prime. She’d told herself it was for the best, even if it stung a bit. She didn’t do long term, as Valsi had pointed out. The rational part of Maree’s brain said she could hardly fault Kix for sharing her attitude. But there had been something different about her time with Kix—something she could almost have believed was special, if not for the haunted look in his eyes as he’d left her flat.

Still, it couldn’t have been such a terrible night for him if he was interested in a repeat. The cynical voice in her head told her it was just more convenient for him to booty call her than to go to the effort of picking up another bedmate. Maree took a moment to consider. Kix had been good in bed—fantastic, actually. She definitely wouldn’t mind going another round or three with him. She was fully capable of keeping her feelings under control—it was her specialty, after all. And if she felt a twinge of disappointment that he only saw her as a warm body, it would fade.

Sure, she replied. Meet up at the hotel bar in an hour?

She sent him the name of her hotel, and he replied with a thumbs-up. She sighed a little, thinking wistfully that she’d have to settle for a sonic shower. She could see the hotel from the speeder now, and by the time she checked in, she had just enough time to unpack her bags and touch up her makeup after getting cleaned up.

Kix was already at the hotel bar when she arrived. She spotted him immediately, leaning against the bar, looking impossibly handsome and absolutely radiating unfriendliness. Something in his posture made him look dangerous in a way she hadn’t noticed during their earlier encounters. The other bar patrons gave him a wide berth. He stared down into his glass and didn’t notice her until she slipped into the space next to him. He looked up, and his stormy expression cleared at once.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, stretching up to kiss his cheek. “Am I late?”

He shook his head. “Got here early. Nothing better to do.”

Maree raised her eyebrows. He wasn’t slurring, but his breath smelled like whiskey, and she wondered how many he’d had. She signaled the bartender and ordered a cocktail, while Kix ordered another whiskey. The bartender shot her a meaningful look.

“Let’s get a table,” Maree said. “I’m starving.”

“Can I get anything started for you?” the bartender asked.

Maree glanced at the menu and ordered an assortment of appetizers, then led Kix to a cozy little booth in the back corner of the bar. Remembering his dislike of having his back to a door, she scooted into the side with the best view of the room, then patted the seat next to her. He dropped into the booth and immediately slid his hand high up her thigh.

Damn, he’s not wasting any time, she thought.

“How’ve you been?” she asked, hoping to pump the brakes a bit.

He shrugged. “Didn’t come here for small talk.”

He leaned in to kiss her, and she pulled back automatically.

“Agreed, I came here for dinner,” she said pointedly. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“Don’t remember,” he said. “Not hungry. At least not for food.”

He pushed his hand higher up her leg and cupped her sex through her gown. She suppressed a twinge of irritation and—to her horror—arousal.

“Well, I am,” Maree said, firmly pushing his hand back down her leg to rest safely on her knee. “I guess you’ll just have to wait.”

The bartender approached with their drink order as well as two glasses and a large pitcher of water, then beat a hasty retreat as Kix glared at him. Kix reached for his whiskey, but Maree picked it up and moved it to her side of the table.

“Water first,” she said.

He glowered at her, but she didn’t back down, meeting his eyes squarely with an expression she normally reserved for arguments with NRGL administrators. He grumbled a protest but drained one of the water glasses, and Maree refilled it before she gave him back his whiskey and sipped her own cocktail.

“Bossy,” he muttered.

“Yep,” she said agreeably. “If you’re a good boy and do what you’re told, maybe I’ll let you have dessert later.”

His eyes darkened. Maree hadn’t missed the way he responded when she’d called him a good boy in the bedroom, and she was not above exploiting that tidbit of knowledge to get him to make at least slightly healthier choices.

“Why wait?” he rumbled.

“Because the food is here,” Maree said, stifling a relieved sigh. 

A service droid rolled up and deposited a tray of food at their booth. Maree picked up a bite and offered it to Kix. He ate it directly from her hand, his warm lips brushing against her hand. 

“I know what you’re doing,” he said.

“I should hope so,” Maree replied, handing him another bite. 

“Do you know how much whiskey it would take to get me drunk?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. How much have you had?” she asked.

“Not enough,” he replied. “I don’t need to sober up.”

“What do you need?” she asked.

“Something stronger than whiskey.”

“What happened, Kix?” she asked. “Why are you doing this?”

He sighed, looking away from her. His eyes focused somewhere in the middle distance on something only he could see.

“It’s this kriffing planet,” he said at last. “Too many memories.”

“I didn’t realize you’d spent much time here,” she said.

He laughed humorlessly. “I used to live here. It’s been a long time.”

“I take it that things didn’t end well?” she asked, feeding him another bite, and then scooting his water glass closer. 

“You could say that,” he said. His glance flicked between her face and the water glass, and his lips nearly twitched into a smile, but he obediently took another drink of water.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

“Not particularly.”

Stars, the man held onto his secrets like they were made of solid beskar. It didn’t bother her, exactly. After all, he was technically just her client, and spending a night together had not changed that, nor had she expected it to. She shrugged and began to eat her own food.

“Well, with any luck, it won’t take long to find what we need in the Archive, and you can get back to your life and leave this place far behind,” she said.

Kix made an odd expression, but he didn’t reply. Once she’d gotten him to eat those first few bites, he seemed to realize that he was ravenous, because he polished off the three plates she’d set in front of him and then began to steal bites off of her plate, too. He drained a second glass of water as well, so she didn’t object when he finished his whiskey. Throughout the meal, he’d kept his hand firmly on her leg, though he didn’t attempt any further explorations after she shut him down. Instead, he contented himself with drawing lazy circles on her thigh with his thumb. 

They ate in silence, and Maree couldn’t help contrasting it with their banter at the hanging garden. Just when she had thought she was getting to know Kix, he reminded her that she really had no idea who he was. 

He flagged down the server droid and ordered it to bring the bottle of whiskey. Maree sighed but didn’t intervene. She wasn’t his mother, and if Kix was determined to get plastered, that was his call to make. Still, she had no interest in watching him make a public spectacle.

“We’ll take it to go,” she said. “Charge everything to my room.”

To his credit, Kix didn’t stumble or weave on the walk to the lifts. In fact, he didn’t show any visible signs of intoxication at all. He was a perfect gentleman until they entered the empty lift and the doors closed behind them. And then he pounced. His mouth crashed into hers as he pinned her against the wall. All the air rushed out of her lungs, and she nearly dropped the bottle of whiskey. His hands roamed over her body, squeezing, stroking. His kiss was rough and hard, and Maree let out a strangled moan as he used his tongue and teeth. He kissed and licked and sucked his way down her neck and chest, pulling her neckline down to give him access to her shoulder. He bit her hard enough to leave a mark, and she flinched. He pressed his lips soothingly to the mark, and then returned to her mouth, consuming her with a kiss that danced along the edge of pleasure and pain. She didn’t even realize he’d rucked up her dress until she felt his rough fingertips slip into her underwear. She broke the kiss with a gasp.

“Kix, w—wait,” she panted.

He froze.

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he asked raggedly. “Isn’t this why you told me to meet you here?”

“Yes, but you’ve been drinking, and—”

“Do I look drunk to you?” he demanded. “I know what I am doing. If you don’t want this, tell me now, and I’ll leave.”

“No, I—I want this,” she said, and he lunged back into action, kissing her until she was breathless. He yanked the fabric of her panties to the side and stroked his fingers over her pussy, hissing when he felt the wetness there.

“Not so calm as you pretended, are you, dirty girl?” he asked. “Is this all for me?”

“Yes, damn you,” she cursed as he slipped one of his fingers inside. Her body convulsed around him. “F—f—fuck!”

He thrust into her over and over, stretching her out until he could fit a second finger inside, dragging his thumb over her clit. She arched into the sensation. Her legs quivered and gave out, but Kix was there to catch her, wrapping his arm around her waist as she clung to his shoulders. There was no trace of the gentle man who’d touched her so reverently the last time they were together. This time, Kix was dominant, almost aggressive, handling her with a sublime roughness that had her trembling on the edge of an orgasm within seconds.

The lift slowed and emitted a soft chime. 

“It’s not our floor,” Maree gasped.

Kix moved to shield her with his body just in time for the doors to slide open. He snarled at the hapless intruder, an Ishi Tib who stumbled back with wide eyes as he took in the scene before him.

“Sorry!” he squawked. “I’ll take the next one!”

The doors slid closed. Maree’s cheeks burned with humiliation, and she hid her face against Kix’s shoulder.

“Look at me,” he commanded. “I want to see your face when you come all over my hand.”

His filthy words, the deft movements of his fingers, and the adrenaline rush of getting caught were too much. He wrenched her pleasure forcibly from her. She whimpered in surprise as her body clenched around him, her orgasm bursting through her.

“That’s it,” he growled. “That’s my beautiful woman. Kriff, you look so gorgeous like this, coming apart around my fingers. I could watch you for hours.”

He didn’t slow his movements until she stopped twitching and slumped against him with a breathy moan. Still supporting her with his arm around her waist, he gently withdrew his fingers from her. He stroked his thumb across her clit in one last, soft caress, and then he allowed her skirt to fall back into place, smoothing the wrinkles. She leaned against his chest, gasping for air. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close, whispering into her hair, telling her how well she’d done, and how sexy she was, and how he was going to take such good care of her. 

“I can’t wait to get you back to your  room,” he murmured. “I’m going to fuck that pussy until you scream my name. Everyone in this karking hotel is going to know who is getting you off.”

Her knees buckled. He caught her with a dark laugh, taking the whiskey bottle from her loosened grasp. 

“Not much longer, love,” he said. “Just a few more floors. Can you hold it together for me?”

She nodded, dazed. She was already wildly turned on again by the way he mixed praise with the dirtiest of promises. The lift slowed and the door chimed.

“This is us,” she said, her voice sounding embarrassingly unsteady.

She led him down the hall and fumbled as she keyed in her door code with shaking hands. He followed closely, dropping the whiskey on the console table and crowding close to her, his hands roaming greedily over her body. Her skin felt like it was on fire wherever he touched her. He tugged her dress off over her head in a single fluid motion as he backed her up against the bed. She tumbled onto the mattress, and he stood back, eyeing her with a hungry look.

“Stars, look at you,” he breathed. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“You are overdressed,” she observed. 

He began to strip off his clothes as Maree propped herself up on her elbows to watch. He unbuttoned his shirt to reveal broad shoulders, muscular arms, and a thick chest that tapered down to a lean waist. His smooth, golden brown skin was criss crossed here and there by scars, and he had a smattering of dark hair. She had seen him naked before, but she hadn’t had time to admire him at her leisure. He was glorious.

As he lowered his trousers, she could see that he was fully erect, and a bead of precum had dampened his underwear. She sat up to reach for him, teasing his cock through the fabric before easing the garment down over his narrow hips. She made a happy little noise and leaned forward to swirl her tongue around his shaft. He tangled his hands in her hair with a curse. She loved the gentle tugging on her scalp and hummed with pleasure at the taste of him. His hips bucked forward at the sensation. Before she could proceed, though, he used her hair to pull her head away from him, then pressed her down onto the mattress, climbing on top to straddle her hips.

She could feel the weight of his erection resting on her belly. She traced her hands up his thighs, but he stopped her before she reached his cock. Gripping her wrists, he pinned her hands to the bed. He leaned down and began to explore her body with his mouth. Rubbing his cock against her torso, he kissed and licked down her chest, and then he drew one breast to his mouth and bit down, hard, as he sucked on her. She let out a ragged, broken sound.

“You’re going to remember me,” he growled as marks bloomed across her skin. “Don’t ever forget me.”

“Never,” she whispered as he sucked bruises onto her breasts again and again. 

“That’s fucking right,” he said, and he plunged into her in a single, hard thrust, sheathing himself fully in her slick heat.

She cried out his name as he drove himself into her again and again. She could feel her body pulling taut around him, drawn like a bow, all her sensation pulling itself into the base of her spine, building in intensity until all at once, it was too much. The bowstring snapped, and she shot into ecstasy. Kix ground out a curse as he buried himself deep inside her and spilled into her heat. His arms gave out, and he collapsed onto her chest, breathless and utterly spent.

---

I humbly apologize to the 79's girlies (gn). If you'd like to read about the club in happier times and tag along with Kix and his friends on a night out, please allow me to recommend my fic "Do It Again," which shares continuity with this story.

Chapter 10

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5

[anakinskywalkerog]

My Very Soul (Chapter 8)

Anakin Skywalker x Jedi!Reader

Link to Chapter 7

Warnings: wound/descriptions of pain and needles (stitches lol), teeny bit o Ani fluff and a cool disembodied voice

Summary: Recovering from the wampa attack, you join your Masters to complete your mission on Hoth; you stumble upon a mysterious presence  

Word Count: 4.3k

The blinding white of the snow seemed to make your limbs feel numb—like you were slowly fading into the colorless environment around you, becoming one with the bright. Or maybe it was the pain you felt in the back of your head that was making it difficult to walk through the tundra, your limbs moving slowly, like they were made of lead. Or, you thought, maybe it was the weight of the awkward silence that passed between you, Anakin, and Yumi as you walked.

       "Are you sure you're okay to walk?" Anakin asked you from behind, reaching out his hand as if he were going to touch your back. He held his hand in the air for a moment, uncertain, before lowering it. "We can go slower."

       "I'm fine," you told Anakin as you pushed through the deep snow. The truth was, the pain in your head was killing, and you felt like doubling over. The wind and snow had all but stopped, leaving a blue sky and a clear view of the Speedster, many paces in front of you. If the conditions had been like this when you'd arrived, the beast that had taken you would never have been able to sneak up on you. You screwed up your face in concentration as you continued to walk, the pain a tight feeling that started at your head, but spread out through your arms and legs.

       "But—" Anakin started to protest, seeing your face.

       "The quicker we get to the ship, the quicker we get to the medical supplies," Yumi said, trudging ahead of you, sounding annoyed.

       Anakin was watching you as if he considered you unsteady—his hands were not quite at his sides, as if he felt he would need to reach out and catch you at any second.

       "Ani, I'm FINE," you emphasized. The pain was growing more intense with each step, but it was annoying you to have Anakin treating you like you were about to collapse. Anakin seemed to intuit your frustration in your voice, and he dropped his hands, looking ahead as he walked beside you, glancing back to you covertly. You breathed in and out through your teeth, trying to expel the pain.

       It was embarrassing enough that you had been bested by a beast Anakin seemed to have had no trouble with. To be found unconscious? Your cheeks burned with shame and embarrassment. And in front of Yumi? You were mortified. Your mind slowly turned what Yumi had seen in the tent into something prickly, sharp inside of you, something that you felt the need to move around, something you didn't dare touch. You could rationalize away the whole scene, but the fact that Yumi, someone who was certainly not to be trusted to keep a secret, had seen you and Anakin...

       "Y/N!" you heard a desperate voice shout, and you felt a dip in the Force, a dip that felt like an intense wave of relief passing over you. You looked up and saw your Master running out of the Speedster 2. The sight of someone who was usually so graceful running frantically through the deep snow cast your worries and frustrations from your mind, and you couldn't help but laugh. Perhaps it was Master Yuma's giddy relief at seeing you were okay, but you felt contented, as if your Master's presence could solve any problem, even ones related to Anakin.

       When Master Yuma reached you, she took your arms in her hands, looking you over, assessing the damage with concern. You ignored her examination, throwing yourself into her arms in a hug. Master Yuma's breath left her, the subtlest of sounds that you knew meant she was intuiting your mood, was feeling all of the shame and frustration and embarrassment you were feeling. You felt her confusion.

       "She needs stitches," Anakin told Master Yuma, looking quite relieved himself. "There's a large cut on the back of her head, where that thing hit her."

       "What was it?" you asked Master Yuma, walking back toward the ship.

       "Probably a wampa," Master Obi-Wan told you, stepping out onto the ramp of the Speedster. You felt Anakin's Force presence relax.

       "Good to see you on your feet, Y/N." Obi-Wan clasped your arm as Master Yuma led you onto the ship, Anakin and Yumi trailing in behind you.

       "Why weren't we told there were predators here?" Anakin asked his Master, looking to him with pleading eyes.

       "There are so few wampas left on Hoth, you were statistically more likely to injure yourself tripping," Obi-Wan said, slight sarcasm entering his voice. "Your Padawan was quite unlucky, today," he told Master Yuma as she helped you onto the flight bench.

       "Nothing your Padawan couldn't handle, it seems," Master Yuma responded, and you felt your face burn. You could have handled the wampa just fine, you thought, had you only been able to see through that storm.

       "Here," Yumi said to Master Obi-Wan, handing him the large pack of medical supplies she'd just retrieved from the compartment beneath the ship. Obi-Wan took the pack and began sorting through it, sourcing, you saw with a gulp, a needle and medi-thread. "Are you going to tell us what you found?" Yumi asked, sounding a bit impatient, as if she too were anxious to get off this planet. You felt a sense of embarrassment coming from her Force presence, which didn't make sense to you. What did she have to be embarrassed about?

       "We can do better," Master Yuma said, reaching into the medical pack and searching through it. "We can show you. But first," she turned back to you, "we need to close that wound." You heaved a deep breath. Needles were not your favorite. "I'm sorry, Y/N," Master Yuma told you, looking to you with trepidation. "It seems there isn't any numbing jelly in here." She gestured to the medical pack she'd just searched.

       "Of course there isn't," you said dryly. Master Obi-Wan approached you, looking at you with pitying eyes. "May I?" he asked kindly. You nodded. He sat down next to you, and you felt the wound on the back of your head throbbing with pain, as if in anticipation.

       "Anakin, distract her, please," Obi-Wan said through gritted teeth, holding the edge of the thread in his mouth as he used both hands to prepare the needle. You looked away from what he was doing, averting your eyes quickly.

       Anakin strolled over to you without delay, sitting on your other side. It was quite cramped in this small ship, with Master Yuma sitting across from you, and Yumi standing by the ramp. Anakin took your hand firmly, enclosing it in both of his, and you felt yourself blush. This was just something he did, now? All eyes were on you.

       "Did you know the wampa had you hanging upside down?" Anakin asked, his eyes wide, watching your face. You were looking down, feeling his hand in yours, feeling Master Yuma's eyes on you. You felt a sense of understanding in her Force presence—she sensed something, something that was cluing her in to the reasons behind your feelings of shame and embarrassment.

       "Agh," you let out involuntarily, feeling the needle poke at the wound on the back of your head, screwing up your eyes in pain. You felt Obi-Wan's Force presence pushing out toward you, felt him trying to reassure you. Anakin squeezed your hand. "Um," you said, swallowing the pain, allowing Anakin to keep his firm grip on your hand. "Upside down?" you looked up at him, your face in a grimace.

       Anakin nodded quickly. "Yeah, your feet were frozen to the ceiling of the cave."

       "Cave?" you asked, feeling your voice go uneven. You tried to ignore the tugging feeling you felt at your wound, pain pushing through your body.

       "Yeah. Did I not mention that?" Anakin forced a laugh, trying to keep your eyes on him. "The thing had taken you back into its den, in the icy rock." You felt a shakiness in Anakin's Force presence as he watched you. "And after I cut off the wampa's head, I—"

       "You beheaded it?" you asked, forcing the breath in and out. Anakin's face swam in front of your vision, the pain pushing deep into your head.

       "—I had to jump up to free you from the ice," Anakin continued, acting as if you hadn't interrupted. "And then—" Anakin paused.

       "What happened next, Ani?" Yumi said, a hint of derision in her tone. Anakin flushed, and you felt both anger and something else in his presence. You knew no one called him Ani except for you, but there was something else unsettling him. What had happened next?

       "Finished," Obi-Wan said breezily, making a clipping noise with the medical scissors and lowering his hands from the back of your head. "I hope that wasn't too horrible." Obi-Wan patted your arm in a comforting way. Your head throbbed.

       "I'm afraid getting you pain relief will have to wait," Master Yuma said, watching you with sympathetic eyes.

       "Why?" Anakin asked, looking from you to Master Yuma.

       "There are a few things we need to fill you in on," Obi-Wan said, his tone ominous.

"Maybe you should have stayed with the ship," Yumi whispered from below, her voice full of insincerity. You, Yumi, and Anakin were following Master Yuma and Master Obi-Wan up a large rock face. You were breathing hard, feeling your blood pumping, trying to keep up with Master Obi-Wan's pace. Maybe you should have stayed at the Temple, you thought, feeling your hands grow tingly with frustration. You kept these thoughts in, swallowing your anger, pulling yourself up the rock.

       "We'll have to keep quiet," Master Yuma said, reaching down a hand to help pull you up onto a rocky landing. "It's just over this ridge."

       "We can keep our distance," Master Obi-Wan whispered, taking a small probe out of his robes. "This will collect the data we need to send back to the council." He pressed a button on the probe's surface, and the tiny droid came to life, floating up into the air above Obi-Wan's open palm.

       "What is it we're keeping our distance from?" Anakin asked quietly, as he and Yumi made it onto the landing.

       "Over here," Master Yuma whispered, leading you all to peer over a gap in the rocks. You followed her, needing to boost yourself up on a part of the rock in order to see. You gasped.

       There was a crime syndicate presence here, all right. The encampment took up much of the snowy valley below, made up of tents and supplies, not to mention a number of men and aliens of other species walking around with very large blasters. But this sight wasn't what made you gasp.

       In the middle of the valley was a large boulder—but it couldn't be a boulder, not with that iridescent shine, the glow of light, the heat you felt in the Force, even from this distance.

       "Is that—?" you started to ask.

       "Yes," Master Yuma answered, taking out bino-specs and looking down at the scene.

       "But it's so—"

       "Big?" Master Obi-Wan finished for you, letting the probe go, off into the snowy air. It disappeared almost immediately, and you knew none of the enemies below would be able to detect a droid that small from this height.

       "I didn't know there were kyber crystals that big," Yumi whispered, looking awed. Obi-Wan and Anakin gave each other a significant look.

       "They're very rare," Obi-Wan whispered. "Thought to only exist in legend, by some."

       "What do the crime syndicates want with it?" you asked, tearing your eyes away from the giant crystal to look back to your Master. She shrugged.

       "Who knows?" Master Yuma entuned softly. "Maybe they stumbled upon it. Maybe they've been fighting over it."

       "It's got to be worth a lot, to the right people," Yumi reasoned, her eyes narrowing, thinking hard.

       "But what people?" you questioned, your eyes wide. "And what would they want to use it for?"

       "Our thoughts exactly," Master Obi-Wan whispered darkly. A rustling noise made all of you look to the west, where the sun was moving through the clouds. A luxurious-looking ship was landing near the edge of the encampment, and as you watched it lower its landing gears, you felt a quiet surround you, hearing only your own breath. You watched the ship land and felt your vision blur.

       "Y/N?" Anakin whispered, seeming to sense that something was wrong.

       "It's so...cold," you said. The cold was surrounding you. You felt it in your skin, in your chest, in your eyes. You couldn't see. Everything was dark. You were paralyzed with a horrible feeling—a terrifying despair was filling you, as if you'd just been thrown into a large body of frozen water, of which there was no surface. You tried to scream for your Master, for Anakin, but nothing came out of you.

       It was then that you felt it—the specific tenor, the horrible, awful, overwhelming presence. It was taking over everything, this presence. It was consuming all breath from your lungs, all happiness from your body. You couldn't think. You felt as if you were drowning inside this presence.

       Just when you thought that this feeling was unending, that it could not get any worse, you felt the presence shift its attention. Panic gripped your heart, a terrible fear taking hold deep inside you. The presence knew. The presence knew you were there. It could sense you.

       You wanted to run, but you couldn't feel your legs. You had no idea where you were, or if you were. You felt the presence moving its attention to you, felt it seeing you fully, though you didn't know if you still had eyes.

       Your Masters are unable to sense me, a voice said, its horrible echo swirling around your consciousness, like wind. You tried to put up your hands, as if to block the wind from your face. Even your powerful friend cannot sense my presence, the voice continued. Your thoughts turned to Anakin involuntarily. Oh, yes, the voice droned, its sound going through you like poison, making your mind hurt, he is more powerful even than I. But why is it that you, the voice asked dangerously, a child, an unknown, can feel my existence? You wanted to cry out for Anakin, to tell him to run, to tell all of them to leave here, now, to leave you behind, so that they might at least escape this horrific being.

       What is this I sense in you, child? You felt your whole self aching, as if this presence were clutching onto your very soul, holding you in a bind. Interesting, the voice uttered, that you alone have somehow made your way through my defenses in the Force. The black was surrounding your eyes, and you felt yourself gasping, as if the presence were clutching you around the throat, around the wrists, pinning you down into the darkest parts of yourself. You will not do so again, the voice whispered, but I will remember your presence.

       You tried to scream, but you felt as if you didn't have a voice. All you could feel was blackness, darkness, cold. You couldn't tell if your eyes were open or closed, couldn't sense whether you still even had a body. Whether you might be of use? The voice said, as if it were merely thinking aloud, its sound like nails scratching your skin. Uncertain, the voice continued, but of interest to me. You had never in your life felt this cold, never before felt such a dark feeling as this. You wished, for a moment, that the voice would simply kill you, so that you would not have to feel this any longer.

       There is fear in you, the voice said, and you felt as if you were falling in a downward spiral. You felt as if you might fall forever.

       I will remember, you heard the voice say, and then you hit the ground.

"No, please, no—"

       "Master Yuma, we have to do something. What's happening? What—"

       "No, please, please—"

       "I'm trying, Anakin, I don't know—"

       "NO!!" you screamed, your eyes opening, your body convulsing wildly. You felt Master Yuma's arms around you, felt her embrace move through yours in the Force. You breathed deeply, in and out, as if you had just brought your head above water, as if you were breathing for the first time. But you needed to warn them—

       "Master," you said breathlessly, "Master, it's—the—the presence, it's—"

       "What?" Master Yuma asked, pulling back from you, taking in your panicked figure.

       "That presence—that dreadful being—"

       "What are you talking about?" Master Yuma put her hands on your shoulders. "Please, Y/N, you need to calm down—"

       "Master, listen to me!" You shrieked, looking wildly around you. You saw that you were back on the larger ship, in what looked like the medical bay, propped up on a bed with a tube in your arm.

       "Y/N, it's okay, you're safe, now," a familiar voice said from behind Master Yuma, but you shook your head back and forth, trying to make sense of where you were, of what you'd felt.

       "You didn’t—you didn't feel it?" you asked, taking in Master Yuma's surprised face, and behind it, Anakin's worried expression.

       "Feel what, Y/N?" Master Yuma asked, her eyes wide.

       "The presence—that awful being, whatever it was..." you trailed off, seeing in both your Master's and Anakin's faces that they had no idea what you were talking about.  

"You're just injured, Y/N. You need rest," Master Yuma told you, trying to gently push on your shoulders to get you to lay back down.

       "No," you told her, your eyes wide in terror. "That's not what happened, Master. I'm telling you—the presence I felt—what I felt—"

       "I believe you, Y/N, it's okay." Master Yuma gently pressed a cold cloth to your forehead. You realized you were sweating, feverish, your hair plastered to your face. "We will talk about it with the council when we land back on Coruscant. Right now, I need you to rest." You nodded, slowly, trying to calm your heart rate.

       "What—what happened? How did we—"

       "You collapsed," Anakin said quietly, looking at you anxiously. "One moment, we were looking at the Kyber crystal, and the next, you were on the ground. And you were...shaking..." You felt Anakin's fear through the Force.

       "Your wound," Master Yuma said, indicating the bandage you felt on the back of your head. "You just need to recover." She seemed to be trying to convince herself with her words, in addition to you. You looked from Anakin to Master Yuma. Had they really not felt anything? Were you going insane?

       "I'm going to check our progress," Master Yuma said, keeping her voice calm and steady. "We should be arriving soon. You can take over for me, here?" You saw Anakin nod. Master Yuma held the cold cloth out for him to take it.

       You inhaled and kept your breath in as Master Yuma left the room. Anakin moved a little closer to you, his eyes wide.

       "What do you think it was?" Anakin asked, sitting down in front of you, taking your hand in his. The feel of his fingers sliding into yours was already familiar to you, and though a part of your brain resisted, a different part of your brain wanted to have your hand in his, always. "The presence?"

       You slowly shook your head back and forth, your mouth open, thankful for once for Anakin's sincerity. Looking Anakin in the eye, you knew that he believed you, that he knew your fear was real, that you weren't imagining things. "I don't know, Ani, but—whatever it was, I—" You could barely breathe. You'd never felt a presence like that in all your years as a Jedi. You'd never felt so cold, so afraid, so—hopeless, as if every good thing had been cast out of the universe. Anakin gripped your hand, putting the cool cloth to your forehead gently.

       "It's okay, flea, it will be okay," Anakin said, starting to stroke your hand with his thumb. You felt his thoughts turn to the gardens at the Jedi temple, felt him dwelling on the color of the flowers that grew there. His feelings shifted, thinking of the skyline of Coruscant as the sun set, viewing the fading light from one of the balconies of the Temple. You felt in his presence a forced feeling of calm, and intentional peace, as his feelings shifted again to dwell on the quiet of the Temple's meditation rooms. Was he trying to calm you, through his own thoughts?

       You looked at Anakin, watched his face as it squinted in concentration as he thought over all of the places he deemed safe and calming. You couldn't understand, now, the feelings that began to enter your presence. They were so overwhelming.

       "Thank you," you said softly, and Anakin looked up, a slight smile gracing his features in knowing that his tactic had worked. You didn't look away from him, didn't pull your hand away from his, didn't do anything to deflect the vulnerability you now felt emanating between your presences in the Force. He kept your gaze, still stroking your hand. You looked at each other, the moment quiet and endless. You remembered the feeling of Anakin's arms around you, in that tent, remembered laying on his lap, looking up into his eyes.

       You felt Anakin's Force presence shift as his thoughts solidified. You were already shaking your head.

       "Y/N, listen—"

       "No, Ani, no, wait..." you said, pulling away your hand. You felt Anakin's feelings through the Force as your hand left his, a stinging feeling combining with his urgency. The door to the medical bay opened.

       "Anakin, we're arriving on Coruscant," Master Obi-Wan said, striding in and giving you a small smile. "I'm glad to see you're awake, Y/N." You nodded to him, feeling his presence graze over his thoughts of you and Anakin, moving quickly back to what he'd come in here to say. "You and I have a new assignment," Obi-Wan told Anakin. "We're leaving immediately."

       "What?" Anakin asked, looking back at you, his eyes wide.

       "The news of this Kyber crystal has set some things in motion," Master Obi-Wan explained. "The council feels we're needed in the Outer Rim." Anakin turned back to face you, looking as if he were speechless. All three of you felt the ship touch down beneath you. There were no viewports in the medical bay, but you knew Coruscant from the humming you felt through the Force—the specific vibration of your second home.

       "Y/N, I—" Anakin tried again, his face blushing furiously as he looked at you, then away. You held your breath.

       "I'm sure we'll be back soon," Anakin finished, changing directions in his mind, standing up and putting the cold cloth onto the table next to your bed. "I'll—"

       You looked up at Anakin wordlessly, feeling all that had gone unspoken in the air. A part of you wanted to bury your face under your blankets and forget any of this had ever happened. A different part of you wanted to take everything hanging in the air and make it real.

       "I'll be seeing you," Anakin said, looking back as Obi-Wan gestured for him to follow. You didn't know what to say. You sat there, quietly, as Anakin turned and followed his Master out the door.

You walked across the hangar, watching the ship that you knew carried both Anakin and Obi-Wan taking off into the Coruscanti sky. You felt conflicted. The mission to Hoth had given you a lot to think about. Your head was spinning.

       "Feeling sentimental?" Yumi asked you, her tone mocking, her lips close to your ear in a derisive pout. Anger flared inside you.

       "You know what, Yumi?" you said, your voice rising, grateful that Master Yuma was already so far ahead of you, out of earshot. "Enough, okay? I'm not seven years old anymore. If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise," you turned, facing her head on, "get away from me."

       Yumi looked stunned for a moment, before her pretty features broke out into a confident smile.       

       "Assertive looks good on you," she commented, her eyes twinkling. "Keep it up, little flea." You reached for your lightsaber.

       "Call me that again," you threatened, "and I'll—"

       "Relax, Y/N," Yumi said, rolling her eyes. Somehow, despite spending multiple days in a snowstorm, her hair and face looked just as perfect as they had when you'd left Coruscant. You didn't even want to think about what you probably looked like: face bruised, head bandaged, sweat and ice and dirt caked in every orifice. "You're both so easy to rile up," Yumi continued, smiling her perfect smile.

       "Both?" you asked, confused. Yumi rolled her eyes again, an exaggerated move.

       "That boy is in love with you," she said simply, shrugging her shoulders, still grinning at you like she was enjoying herself.

       "WHAT?!" you half-shrieked. Master Yuma turned around, from ahead of you, where she had been greeting multiple other members of the Order. You felt your face going hot. For Yumi to say those words—aloud—you had half a mind to attack her, your hand hovering over your lightsaber.

       "Whenever you decide how you feel," Yumi continued, as if you hadn't made a very loud and indecorous screech, "you might want to let him know." You felt the slightest dip in Yumi's usually very confident presence, just a glimpse, but enough for you to notice that she was not quite as untouchable as she seemed. You felt her forcibly casting you out, exuding confidence again, laughing. "And let me know," she continued, her eyes sparkling. "Cause, you know, his lips look very soft...and I'd like to find out if they feel as soft as they look." Yumi danced ahead of you, turning around to give you an air kiss before laughing and running into the Temple without looking back.

************************************************************************

And that's it for the Hoth arc! CHAPTER 9 IS HERE AND IT'S PAIN

Bonus Content: more Yumi cause she's just so pretty (HoYeon Jung)

divider credit to @racingairplanes

taglist: @iyoogi @cluelessgurl @layazul @annadastra @graciexmarvel @galaxiasy @organasith @indigoblues1207 @outoftheregular @katsukiswrld @prettyboyrryy @jellydodger @wildflower57 @lydiamartinslover @em-asian @heavenseraph @iloveinej @leapofblank @sahverah @elsyyie @usuallyunlikelyfox @jadeonce @papadragun @dopejellyfishfury @stxrrielle @lilianashomaresparza

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Marian Marsh (Five Star Final, The Black Room)—After having starred in Svengali at the age of seventeen, Marian Marsh was awarded the title of WAMPAS Baby Stars in August 1931 even before her second movie with Warner Brothers was released. With her ability to project warmth, sincerity and inner strength on the screen along with critical praise and the audience's approval of Svengali, she continued to star in a string of successful films for Warner Bros. After a successful career, Marsh retired in the late 1950s. In the 1960s, Marsh founded Desert Beautiful, a non-profit all-volunteer conservation organization to promote environmental and beautification programs. She remained in palm desert until her death in 2006.

Lupe Vélez (Cuban Love Song, The Girl from Mexico, Naná)—iconic Mexican glamor, known for her dramatic romances and hot temper. she could do unspeakable things <3 to me <3

This is round 2 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Marian Marsh:

Lupe Vélez:

(joint propaganda for del Río and Vélez) When I asked my 58-year-old coworker who I have been keeping updated on the vintage men tournament if there was anyone she wanted me to submit on her behalf, almost immediately she said Dolores del Río, soon followed by her assigned rival by studios (due to being the first major Mexican actresses in Hollywood) Lupe Vélez - which del Río did not play into and Vélez did. We love queens who know what they're about. No drama vs drama for the sake of publicity. These ladies are fantastic, my coworker has excellent taste.

A beautiful girl with a beautiful singing voice. She also loved small dogs.

[kaleidoscope1967eyes]

how do you think luke would be with pets?

Thanks for the ask, anon! I don't know if any canon or legends material really touches on this, which is such a shame because I think he would be so good with animals!

Luke has always been a fan of all sorts of creatures. As a little boy on Tatooine, he loved playing with and riding his friend Windy's dewback. He did have a pet of his own growing up: the Lars family owned a spotted sandhound named, you guessed it, Sandy. Even though she was an old girl, Luke would always run around the farm with her and try to teach her tricks, and she'd always do her best to keep up with him.

Sandy was extremely protective of him, to the point where it cost her life; when he was around thirteen years old, a group of womp rats ambushed him while he was tending to some moisture vaporators, and she immediately rushed in to take all the fatal blows. It was absolutely devastating, but in a rare moment of vulnerability, Owen used the situation to teach Luke about the inevitability of loss and the importance of appreciating those you love in the moment--a skill that would ultimately be very relevant to his jedi training.

On the topic of jedi training, animals are naturally drawn to him due to his strong presence in the force. Sometimes this means an entire flock of jubba birds will land on him and all start singing, other times it means large, predatory creatures will locate him very easily and try to eat him. Luke absolutely hates fighting or attacking animals. He is forever haunted by the time he literally disarmed a wampa--he was only trying to scare it away, he didn't mean for it to actually make contact with his lightsaber. You remind him that even though he didn't have a choice, he still did the right thing by giving it a chance to live.

I know I've talked about this before, but Luke would be a total horse girl (boy). He's great with dewbacks and he's great with tauntauns, so he would definitely also be great with equinoids like pulgas, orbaks, and guarlaras. Even though horses are usually extra skittish around men, they're perfectly fine around him because they can sense just how kind and gentle he is. They especially appreciate that he's intuitive and empathetic enough to know never to raise his voice or make sudden movements around them.

After noticing Luke's knack for critters, you decide to get him a pet of his own. You end up getting him a rescue tooka cat you found in a shelter at Mos Espa: it's a playful, snuggly orange tabby that's missing its right paw. What a strange coincidence, you thought, gently picking it up. Luke deserves to know he's not alone.

When Luke came back to your shared quarters on Home One and saw a kitty on his bed, he was ecstatic. He literally started crying--thankfully, you had R2 there to record his reaction. Because you found it on Tatooine, Luke decided to call it "Lars" in honor of his family. They end up doing everything together: he goes to briefings with Lars stretched out on his shoulders, they go on joyrides in his x-wing together, etc. People get a huge kick out of how close they are--"guy who blew up the Death Star crying over a cat" ends up becoming a huge meme in the Rebellion.

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