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sailorkamino · 1 year

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dancing and tookas (wrecker's pov)

wildflower masterlist

relationships: twi'lek!jedi!reader x wrecker [gn, can be platonic or romantic]

summary: you and wrecker bond through dancing holo games and sparring. after accidentally hurting your lekku wrecker is avoiding you but you know he won't be able to resist the tooka family you've befriended.

word count: 1.8k

warnings: jealousy (wrecker is an attention whore), every batcher just wants to be praised, accidental injury, misplaced guilt, insecurities/negative self image, wrecker thinks he's dumb and clumsy sometimes but he's best boy

Wrecker likes you right away. You’re nice, and pretty, and funny, and you can do crazy flips.

You praise them a lot. Sometimes Wrecker feels left out when you’re talking to one of his brother’s so he’ll do something to get your attention. Crosshair says he’s jealous but he’s not. He’s just never had a friend before that’s not his brother, of course he wants to spend time with you!

It’s worse when you spend time with non clone force 99 members. You’re somehow friends with Alpha-17. Wrecker didn’t even know he was capable of having friends but jedi’s are magical. Sometimes you help him with training ARC’s. Which is fine. But Wrecker is way stronger than them and he feels like you should know that.

His first time in hyperspace you teach him how to dance. “Since the Marauder’s too small for a gym I downloaded some games to keep us busy,” you explain, clicking on your datapad. You show him all kinds of simulations: playing sports, racing, building, fighting, dancing, something with animals.

The dancing one catches his interest. Wrecker’s always had a hard time sitting still and it sounds fun. But he doesn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his new best fr- commanding officer. You’re so graceful. He’ll probably look like a drunk rancor next to you.

“Can I pick the first game?” You ask, looking at him thoughtfully.

Wrecker is surprised for a moment. Nat borns don’t usually care what he thinks. He wonders if all jedi are as nice as you. Probably not. You seem special. He nods quickly. “Of course, general! It’s your ‘pad.”

“Great! I wanna dance,” you smile. Before he can say anything you send him a reassuring look, “don’t worry, we’ll start off easy.”

He wonders if you could sense his nerves. Or maybe you can just tell he’ll be a bad dancer. You look at him consideringly. “Could you lift me?”

He puffs his chest out confidently. “With one hand.”

“Please use both,” Hunter pleads from the galley.

“Don’t worry sarge, I’ll play with you next!” You call back playfully as you select a song.

The dance is a duet to a song about forbidden love. The avatars start off in two different locations, doing slow, graceful movements. As the chorus hits the song becomes more upbeat, the scenery changing to a masquerade ball as they meet.

Wrecker’s hand completely sorrounds yours as he bites his lip in concentration. He apologizes quickly as his feet clash against yours. You grin with a graceful twirl. “Don’t stress, Wreck. The first time you do a dance it’s always a little clumsy.”

Wrecker starts to get more comfortable with the repetitive choreography. His timing is a little off but neither of you care. At the last chorus the avatars perform a lift. Wrecker grins confidently. Lifting he can do.

He grabs you by the waist, plucking you up effortlessly, and spinning. You grasp his broad shoulders with a playful laugh. Wrecker forgets why was nervous in the first place.

Another activity he loves doing with you is hand to hand combat. You’re insanely quick and flexible, jumping and twisting out of his grasp with a smirk. When he spars with his brothers it’s often over too quick but you actually challenge him. When you do make contact instead of just dodging you’re much stronger than expected.

You have some downtime on a mission so you and Wrecker decide to spar in a grassy field near the Havoc Marauder. You’re both sweating and grinning playfully until a horrible yelp fills the air. His large hands fly away from you as if he’s been burned, his heart dropping to his gut. What did he do? He can’t even catch you, how did he hurt you?

Then he notices your fingers gingerly holding one of your lek. Oh no. No no no no! Tech told all of them just how sensitive lekku are and to be careful. He’s so stupid! “General! I’m so sorry! It was an accident, I didn’t mean to,” he rambles desperately. You have to know he didn’t do it on purpose.

You breathe deeply, eyes fluttering open to look at the trooper. “It’s alright, Wreck. I know you wouldn’t hurt me on purpose. It’s not even that bad, you just caught me off guard.”

Hunter pokes out of the ship. “Everything alright?”

“No! They’re hurt,” Wrecker wails before you can answer. Hunter’s worried eyes zero in on your hand holding one lek over your shoulder.

“I’m really fine, guys,” you assure with a frown.

“B-but lekku injuries can cause brain damage! That’s what Tech said!”

You give him a soft, affectionate look he doesn’t deserve. You’re always too nice. Too forgiving. (That’s why he gets so mad at Crosshair when he’s rude to you.) “That can only happen if the top of the lekku are seriously injured. Like crushed or something. You grabbed the bottom. I assure you, my brain is fine, Wreck. You didn’t hurt me.”

You offer his large hand a gentle squeeze. “Now that’s settled, do you mind if I wash up first?”

He nods quickly. A part of him wants you to stay and comfort him but he can’t look at you without feeling horrible. He tries to keep his voice as steady as possible when he replies, “of course, sir. I’m gonna work out some more.”

You study him with eyes that seem to go right through him. They’re kind but it’s still intimidating. He forces an awkward smile. You don’t seem to buy it but leave anyways, offering him a shoulder pat on your way to the Marauder. “Make sure to shower before movie night. I’m not gonna share my snacks with you if you stink.”

His grin becomes less fake. He loves team holo nights! Last time you sat between him and Hunter and you were so cozy. You explained it’s because twi’lek’s have higher body temperatures than humans and then casually mention cuddle piles with the 104th. That led to Wrecker asking, with no jealousy in his voice at all, “you cuddled with the 104th?”

“Mhmm, it started when Wolffe found me bunking with my master. He was all panicky cause he couldn’t find me,” you smile fondly at the memory. “I explained that since Plo’s cold blooded and twi’leks run warm we sometimes cuddle. He invited us to join the vode." Your face drops a bit, “especially after tougher missions.”

Wrecker wonders if you’ll join their cuddle piles. He hopes so. How long should you know someone before inviting them to snuggle with you and your siblings? Is it weird to ask? You’re a pretty tactile person which he enjoys. His brothers aren’t as touchy as him. Both Hunter and Tech have sensory issues so they aren’t always open to physical affection. Crosshair is just difficult. He bit him once.

“Hey Wrecker. You okay?”

Hunter’s familiar voice brings him back to the present. Any happiness melts away when he remembers what happened. He fakes another smile, “of course sarge. You should check on the general.” You have a tendency to downplay injuries, not wanting to use up precious medical supplies when you could do a ‘healing trance.’ Whatever that means.

Wrecker spends the next day as far away from you as possible. Which is painfully obvious considering how close the two of you usually are. That evening you go outside to meditate with Hunter.

You insist on meditating in nature when possible. Once the batch realized mediation meant you were essentially sleeping outside with no armor, completely vulnerable, they made sure one of them was always there to watch your six.

After healing one of Hunter’s migraines by petting his head like a tooka the sergeant had become more interested in the force. Instead of guarding your mediation sessions, he joined them. Wrecker tried but he’s not good at sitting still with nothing to do. Just another thing he’s too destructive for.

He’s so busy pouting he doesn’t notice Hunter approaching his cabin. “Hey Wrecker!” He calls out, a pleased smile on his mouth. “There’s something you need to see.”

His interest is piqued. If it was Crosshair he might be suspicious but Hunter isn’t much for pranks. He sits Lula gingerly beside him as he stands. “What is it?”

“Come on and find out.”

Hunter might not be a prankster but he’s a smug bastard. Although Wrecker whines childishly he actually enjoys when his oldest brother is playful. Now that you’ve joined the squad Hunter is no longer the sole leader, leaving him somewhat less burdened.

He exits the Marauder and sees you sitting in the grass with striped furballs crawling over your lap. He gasps dramatically. “Tookas!”

“Easy, Wrecker. Don’t scare them,” Hunter gently warns.

“Don’t worry. I’m calming them with the force.” You assure them with a warm smile. Hunter raises a questioning eyebrow but Wrecker is too entranced by the adorable animals to ask any follow up questions. He plops in the grass in front of you with starry eyes.

The mama tooka who is diligently sitting beside you saunters towards him. He watches with bated breaths as she settles into his lap with a flick of her bushy tail. “This is the best day of my life.” He stiffens, remembering who he’s talking to. “General,” he tacks on.

You scrunch your nose in distaste and Wrecker knows he said something wrong. But what? “I don’t like being called my rank outside of missions.” You confess, lifting a kitten covered hand. “I know you’ve been raised as a soldier so it’s natural for you but… I wasn’t.”

Wrecker take’s in the information with wide eyes. Even though his batch is known for being unorthodox, the military chain of command has been drilled into their minds since they were tubies. Speaking freely with another clone is one thing, but you’re a jedi. As much as he wants to be your friend it’s still a culture shock.

“You can call me a nickname if you like.” You suggest. “My master has called me wildflower sinde I was a youngling. The vode call me sarad – that’s mando’a for flower.”

Well a nickname seems easier. The clones go by nicknames. He doesn’t want to use the same one the regs do though. He brainstorms flower related words for a few moments as he strokes the tooka. “What about Blossom?” He asks hopefully.

“Blossom and the bad batch,” you test out with a smile. “I like the sound of that.”

#bad batch #tbb #the bad batch #tbb wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #clone wars #clone force 99 #the bad batch x reader #tbb x reader #clones x reader #bad batch x reader #star wars #clone wars x reader #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you

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graylinesspam · 9 months

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Dancing was an inalienable part of Shili's culture. Dancing was a focal point in all celebrations and ceremonies. It was a tool of social bonding.

Most infants learned to "dance" somewhere between crawling and walking.

But the wider galaxy didn't have the same views of it that the Togruta did.

For whatever reasons humans or near humans who had the audacity to shake their butts or display their bodies were seen as obscene. The farther from human you were the more you could get away with it but for species that were seen as sexually desirable there was a veil of sexuality draped over their cultures.

One that they'd been unable to remove.

So most Togruta, at least the free ones, refused to dance in public spaces or in front of certain demographics.

Any dancing that Ahsoka had participated in was either on Shili or in the company of other younglings who's cultures also had an emphasis on dancing.

So far she'd attended dancing festivals on her home planet almost every year. And several socials in the creche organized by other younglings. Even traded dance moves with other cultures like the MonCala or the Wookies.

That was before the war.

Because now Ahsoka was surrounded by nothing but human men. And human men were single demographic that no Togruta would casually dance in front of.

Wether her men were respectful or not it was just something that was totally ingrained into the culture of the galaxy. She'd personally seen several pinup posters of women with Lekku dressed in chiffon dancers outfits in several places across the GAR's facilities. She and her reputation alone couldn't wipe away centuries of sexualization.

So she abstained.

Ahsoka spent her time training and fighting. There wasn't a whole lot of time outside of the war, and whatever 'bonding' she did with her troops happened around the fires at night. With drinks and rehydrated rations in hand.

And she found that physical harmony in the little interactions instead. The way her troops moved in synch with her in training. The way they responded to her hand signals.

The way Obi-wan moved with her through morning katas.

The way Anakin poked, prodded, and elbowed her into familiar arguments. His hand darting out to annoy her and her instinctual dodge.

Each little gesture left her with a personal thrill, a feeling of fulfillment.

She tried not to linger too much on the feeling of longing that always accompanied the urge to dance. Contenting herself with little skips and head bops and jazz hands to work the urge to dance our of her system.

Sometimes unable to hold back the jittery body wiggles that overwhelmed her during times of celebration.

Some time into the war she was surprised to discover that the clones also had a ceremony that required dancing. Well, if you could call it that.

When Ahsoka thought of dancing she thought of swaying hips and light feet, of moving with the rhythm. What the clones were doing was closer to stomping.

Their boots slamming to the ground in unison, their hands slapping against the plates if their armor. The only beat was the one they created with the percussion of their bodies.

One step foreward, boots slamming to the ground. Fist colliding with their chest plates. Open palms slapping their upper arms. Deep-chested bellows accompany the cacophony.

To Ahsoka dancing had always felt like an invitation. A moment of vulnerability. And open hand.

This was the polar opposite. This was a warning, a threat. A show of power. A closed fist.

The hanger rang with the sound of them. Their bodies spread to take up as much room as possible. Their faces pulled down into snarls, tongues hanging from their open mouths. Plastoid knocking against itself.

But she could see it, in the lines of their formation. In the unity if their voices. The collective threat of them. This was their camaraderie. The sense of community that she'd craved.

It was strange to her but it was theirs and she had to respect that.

Battlefront to battlefront, she stood aside as they went through the routine. The ground shaking underneath her as she rocked on the balls of her feet. Battling with that familiar longing.

"Your face wouldn't scare a tooka." Jesse joked. Tup wadded up a wrapper and flicked it right into Jesse's face.

"Ladies, your all very intimidating," Echo said pushing against Jesse's shoulder in reprimand as he sat down beside the fire.

Ahsoka scoffs at the comment, foot hitting Echos ankle.

"Sorry commander, I know plenty of ladies of ladies that are intimidating." Echo apologized.

"You don't even know plenty of ladies." she snarked back.

"Ooooo" the others courused.

"Your right. I don't know any intimidating ladies, at all." he returned with a exaggerated sniff.

"whatever, I don't need you to tell me I'm intimidating."

"Maybe with that force stuff, sure, but you're kinda....small." Fives offered.

Ahsoka growled at him, her lip curling just slightly.

In return Five's mouth dropped open his tongue stretching far out of his mouth, eyes bulging.

Ahsoka's snarl deepened. Her fangs bared at him.

"Alright, you're plenty scary Commander." Rex interjected before this pissing contest could get out of control.

"Sure could have an intimidating haka face with fangs like those." Echo mused and several men agreed.

Ahsoka cocked her head, surprised, most sentiments didn't like seeing a Togruta's fangs. They found it rude.

Ahsoka curled her lips back letting her fangs glint in the fire light.

"With more tongue." Jesse urged.

She let if fall out of her mouth and down her chin like they did, tip pointed.

"And growl." Fives demanded.

Ahsoka's nose flared as her chest rattled with a growl.

"That's it. Definitely puts the shinys to shame. A few more lessons and you'll be ready for the Haka." Fives congratulated.

It might not have been exactly what she'd imagined but that was how Ahsoka found the harmony she craved with her troops, at the front of the formation her hands pounding against her chest. Their voices shake the air as their feet rattle the ground.

Ahsoka was more than an open hand. And maybe she needed to be. In a galaxy like this a closed fist found themselves in better company.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #clone wars #sw tcw #tcw #fanfic #501st #captain rex

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queen-scribbles · 6 months

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Girls' Night In

Creators were revealed for the @kotorgiftexchange, so I can share my piece I wrote! Female Revan, Bastila, and Mission buddyfic, set post-game bc they deserve nice things.

----

The hotel façade looming above them reeked of stately opulence, hardly the place you would expect to find a Jedi, let alone two.

And yet, that's precisely where Revan and Bastila found themselves, dragged on a 'girls only' excursion by a very enthusiastic Mission Vao. She did have a point that they deserved a chance to catch their breath after saving the galaxy. And she had managed to sneak them away from all the attention of those who wanted to praise Revan or babysit Bastila. (Despite the latter's protests that close watch was warranted, given her fall and too-recent redemption.) That level of skill deserved some reward.

"Look at that view," Mission gushed, gesturing broadly toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the city and the sky beyond.

"So, what sort of activities or attractions are there around here?" Revan asked as she joined Mission. It was quite the view, she had to agree.

"Oh. I dunno." Mission shrugged, still staring out the window in awe.

"You don't know?" Bastila parroted from near the door.

"Yeah, I didn't pick this place for the 'local activities." Mission pivoted from the window and flung herself on one of the cushy beds. "I picked it b'cause it's fancy an' I like the idea of bein' pampered a little." She wiggled down in the duvet. "Or a lot."

Revan and Bastila exchanged a look.

"But if you don't know things to do in the area-"

"We don't need to do things in the area." Mission sat up and flipped a lekku back over her shoulder. "There's a pool in the hotel. There's a spa an' fancy restaurant--with room service--in the hotel. There's a theater and arcade and massage parlor in the hotel. This isn't girls' night out, it's girls night in. We're only out in the sense of being out of the Ebon Hawk and out from under the eye of various Republic watchdogs. We can have fun here an' never worry about catching a speeder or getting lost or anything."

"Alright, that does sound fun," Revan said with a small smile at her enthusiasm. "And I can see you put some thought into this."

"Enough to know we have plenty to do without setting foot outside the hotel doors," Mission gloated.

Bastila was quiet, moving off to examine the rest of the suite, and Revan joined Mission sitting on the bed.

"So, how long did it take you to find this place?" she asked, tucking hair behind her ear as she looked around the room. The bed was very comfortable.

"Oh, I actually heard about it before we were done the whole 'savin' the galaxy' thing, it was the using it to relax that came later. Figured we could benefit after... everything." Something flickered in Mission's eyes and she glanced at where Bastila had disappeared, then out the window, before looking back at Revan. "Tell me we didn't need something like this."

"It will be... nice." Pampered opulence was not something usually associated with Jedi, but the thought of a good meal and a massage to deal with the tension of everything that happened on the Star Forge was a tantalizing prospect. "Makes it all the more regretful Juhani didn't come along."

"Hey, I asked!" Mission protested, flopping back on the bed. "She very politely declined, and I got the sense it wasn't a good idea to push." She snorted. "Her loss."

"I hope Bastila manages to enjoy herself..."

"Yeah, I'm kinda surprised she agreed."

As if summoned by the talk of her, Bastila emerged from her exploration and perched in one of the plush chairs near the window. "Mission, these rooms are enormous. Why was... all of this necessary?" She gestured to the whole space.

Mission tipped her head back against the duvet and grinned at her. "The heck of it? B'cause it seemed fun?" She rolled over, nearly knocking Revan off the bed. "Don't tell me you never ever once wanted to stay in a fancy hotel just for the experience."

Bastila's lips twitched, maybe toward a smile. "Not since joining the order; this level of... personal comfort is not something Jedi are meant to aspire to."

"Okay, but you can enjoy it once, if it's dropped in your lap, right? Surely itty bitty Bastila thought about it before joining the Jedi?"

This time there was definitely a hint of a smile. "Perhaps just once..." she allowed, as if in answer to both, then cocked her head. "I am curious how you are affording this."

"Don't worry about that," Mission said dismissively, jumping to her feet. "It's paid for, just enjoy yourself. What should we do first? There's spa, restaurant, theatre, pool, massage..."

"Well, there's a tub nearly the size of a pool in the suite's 'fresher," Bastila said dryly, "so I don't think we need to visit the communal one."

"You're funny, bet you just don't wanna be seen breakin' Jedi dignity to do a cannonball," Mission teased.

Bastila arched a brow, but her eyes were twinkling. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"What I'd like to know," Revan interjected, "is why they have both spa and massage; I was under the impression massage was part of the spa... experience."

"Dunno," Mission shrugged. "Maybe for people who want a massage but not the whole spa shebang, maybe for room service. We can find out; you wanna do spa first?"

Revan and Bastila looked at each other, then back at the twi'lek, practically bouncing with excitement to get this underway. "Sounds like a plan."

"Yes!" She was out of the room like a shot, headed for the lift with a twirl in her step.

---

The spa offered an extensive list of services, and it took fifteen minutes of reviewing the options to settle on the ones the wanted. Apparently a bundle of six was "included" with their suite, which renewed their curiosity how Mission had paid for this.

A few idle questions to the zabrak manning the service showed both Mission's guesses had been correct--massage services were offered separate from the spa as a whole both because some people only wanted that, and as an option that allowed for room servicing. But it was also offered as part of several spa bundles; did the ladies wish it included in their experience?

That one was easy to agree upon. Though it did prompt a spirited debate on which type of massage they wanted before the receptionist intervened to point out all the masseurs on staff were versed in all the variations, so they could each do whichever they wished. That got them unstuck, and they moved through the rest of the process with relative ease, all agreeing they should start with the massage.

The receptionist took their selections with a practiced professional smile and showed them to the room where they could change. "I'll get the rest of these queued up," she said, and left without a further word to give them privacy.

"Wow, these are soft." Mission was already taking one of the provided spa robed from the receptacle and caressing the creamy white fabric as she headed for a changing stall.

Revan and Bastila moved a little more slowly--almost reluctantly in Bastila's case.

Revan stopped after retrieving her robe and stood studying her friend. "Everything alright?"

"...I suppose," Bastila said, fingers tracing the dark orange trim on the robe even though she'd pulled herself out of her reverie.

"That was a fairly significant pause," Revan said gently. "Are you sure?"

"It... it would feel odd enjoying this level of comfort regardless, after so long in the Jedi Order. But with the event that occurred, the things I said and did, it feels like being reward for wickedness."

"Then why agree to come? If you saw it that way," Revan asked, shifting her weight.

"An attempt at rebuilding bridges, I suppose," Bastila said with a ghost of a smile. "Despite the fact of what I did being nearly unforgiveable, you all" --she inclined her head to include Mission-- "seem willing to do just that. It seemed only proper I make an effort rather than wallowing in my guilt. I just was unaware of what Mission meant by this girls' trip."

"I think, as long as we view it as a... special occasion and not something to get used to, it's alright," Revan said. "And we aren't rewarding wickedness, we are celebrating victory. Part of that victory is you returning to the light and aiding the Republic forces in battle." She gave Bastila's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "There's no harm in enjoying time spent with friends, after all."

"I second that!" Mission interjected, bursting out clad in the hotel robe. "We're glad you're here, and that's why you're here, y'know?"

"I do take your meaning, yes," Bastila said with a smile. She shifted her grip on the robe. "In that case, I believe we should change so we can be moving along with this?"

"I'll wait for you," Mission promised, only bouncing a little as she leaned against a wall while Revan and Bastila stepped into the stalls to change.

---

Meditation was all well and good, definitely helped relax you and reduce stress, but there was something tactile about feeling someone knead the tension out of your muscles that was equally lovely. Revan felt near-boneless when they were done. From the look on Mission's face, she was the same, but though Bastila looked more relaxed there was a lingering sense of... something off to her. It faded as they moved on to other spa activities, however, and was completely gone by the time they got to the mud bath at the end.

"Is it bad I almost don't want to do anything else now?" Revan asked neither of them in particular.

Bastila hummed an agreement.

"Yeah, on second thought, maybe this should've been last," Mission laughed sheepishly. She skimmed one hand over the surface of the mud. "All I wanna do whenever we get out is go lay on the bed and not think about anything."

"We could do the theatre next," Bastila suggested, shifting a little to keep her hair out of the mud. "I caught a glimpse of the marquee; they're performing a Thassian drama known for being... light-hearted and enjoyable. And I believe the timing works out to give us a bit longer here."

"Sounds like a plan," Revan said. "Then dinner after, and we can see where we stand--"

"Stop tryin' to plan every minute of girls' night!" Mission interrupted with a snicker. "Part of the fun is just lettin' it happen and seeing where things go. Plan it too much and it becomes a task."

"But some of the activities run at set times," Bastila pointed out. "Like the theatre. We need to be cognizant of that if we wish to catch a show."

"Eh, we miss one, we can catch the next." Mission wiggled deeper into the mud. "This isn't a battle plan or anything, it's meant to be fun."

"I think Bastila's point is that it's good to have at least a loose schedule in mind," Revan interjected, "And Mission's is to be flexible about the schedule, and both of you are right."

Mollified by her efforts (thank the Force), both settled back. There was silence for a few minutes, aside from the barely-audible music.

"So, how much longer do we have if we wanna catch the next performance of the show?" Mission asked.

"Up to another twenty minutes here before we'd need to clean up and get back in our street clothes," Bastila said after a brief pause. She'd always had the best internal chrono of the group; Revan was inclined to believe her.

"I don't know about you two, but I think I'll be good after another ten," she commented.

"I would also find that sufficient," Bastila agreed.

Mission gave an exaggerated sigh. "I guess that'll be good for me, too."

"If-" Revan began.

"I'm kidding," Mission cut her off. "That's fine. If it wasn't, I'd just stay here an' let you guys go see the show."

"Alright, then. Ten more minutes."

---

The theatre show proved well worth pulling themselves away from the spa. Comfortable seats and an enjoyable performance of a light-hearted tale kept them in a relaxed frame of mind. The dinner that followed was leisurely and did much the same.

The only thing to reintroduce a sliver of tension was Mission dodging yet another attempt to find out how all this was being paid for. And even that was more curiosity than real tension.

"Just enjoy it and stop worrying!" she laughed.

"I'd enjoy it a lot more if I knew we weren't doing something potentially illegal," Revan said with a pointedly arched brow.

"We're not," Mission promised. "Swear by... by my favorite blaster. Just have fun."

Revan sighed but let it go, again. Even if the repeated secrecy was making her increasingly curious. She could try again in the morning; maybe once they were done and checked out Mission would be more forthcoming.

They returned to the room after dinner and lounged around for a while talking before going to bed. All agreed girls' night had been a resounding success.

#queens fic #kotor gift exchange 2023 #female revan #bastila shan #mission vao #kotor #knights of the old republic

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master-jarrus · 1 month

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So I am starting my star wars au during serpentine war era for ninjago (near the end of the empire for star wars. I may just have this be kind of a crossover)

Which means I meed the time twins

I'm debating a few different things but I know for sure they are in the space between

(I'm a little unsure of how well this will work but I feel like they should be conjoined twi'leks and they appear separate because of how they utilize the time and space portals but Wu and Garmadon defeating them ends up separating their lekku(and also their memories))

#ninjago #lego ninjago #time twins #ninjago acronix #ninjago krux #krux and acronix #twi'lek

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lornaka · 2 years

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I legit don’t understand what’s wrong with Rosario Dawson’s Ahsoka look…

In short: hr montrals and lekku are way too short for her age, and they aren’t even fitted to hide her ears, “growing” from behind her headband that is hiding the ears in a really lazy way.

Also her make up, it looks like obvious body paint, sharply drawn, nowhere near what natural skin pigmentation would look like irl, in shape or texture.

It’s all just very lazy and not as alien or visually ambitious as it should be. They push live action as this supposedly superior medium (it isn’t, it’s just different), but don’t even utilize its potential to bring fantastical into reality to the fullest, instead they just.. make everything duller and more mundane.

#and if anyone has the money and resources to push the visuals? it’s them #so there’s no excuse #just lack of motivation #apply this to most alien desings from d+ sw live action #shitty twi’leks from mando s1 #bane from tbobf #what they did to grand inquisitor is simply unforivable #other inquisitors as well

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furious-blueberry0 · 6 months

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Togrutas' pigmentation

A random togruta headcanon I’ve been thinking about for a while and finally decided to write down!

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The original and most common pigmentation combinations for togrutas are as follows:

Blue lekku and red skin

Light blue lekku and orange skin

Green lekku and yellow skin

Yellow lekku and brown skin

These were the only colours that the togrutas could have, and sometimes these combinations would mix, but in the end they were always the same 4 skin colours and the same 4 lekku colours.

These remain the most common combinations on the planet of Shili, but it is very common now to find togrutas with completely different colours from the originals ones around the galaxy.

These changes occurred thanks to the encounter with other alien species. It is in fact not uncommon for togrutas who do not live on Shili to have human, twi'lek, mirialian, pantoran or any near-human mammalian species as partners.

Togruta genes are very dominant, so the only difference the second parent's genes can bring is a change in the offspring's coloration. Precisely for this reason new combinations have begun to be exist, some examples:

Pink lekku and red skin

Blue lekku and purple skin

Yellow lekku and blue skin

Gray lekku and green skin

and many others.

As mentioned these combinations can be found around the galaxy, but they’re uncommon on Shili, where the main 4 combinations are still the most common, but the more new pigmentations can still be encountered in the larger cities.

#i love worldbuilding #especially when it comes to this kind of alien species #I also just really love togrutas #and I can never find a lot informations about them #so I guess I'll just randomly create some for my own enjoyment #star wars #togruta #togruta headcannons #star wars worldbuilding

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findmeinasunshower · 2 years

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𝑮𝒓𝒂𝒗𝒊𝒕𝒚: 𝑨𝒉𝒔𝒐𝒌𝒂 𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒐

word count: 1k

summary: post-tcw!Ahsoka x reader. oneshot.

warnings: canon-typical violence, blood

Ahsoka came into your life completely by surprise: A strange, hooded figure appearing at your door and asking for work as a mechanic.

You didn’t really need one—your moisture farm on Raada was small, only really big enough for you to work on alone—but something about her made you say yes. She looked about your age...and tired in a way that went beyond physical.

So, against your better judgement, you invited her to stay and work on your small plot of land. She fixed up the busted droids that hadn’t seen the light of day in years, and you remember your surprise seeing them rolling out of your family shed. Before she came along, you did almost all of your work by hand.

Throughout all of this time, she said nothing about her past, and you were content to leave her to her mystery. Until some weeks later, the Empire found their way to Raada and destroyed your year’s worth of work to build an outpost.

It was over a quiet, tearful dinner that night that Ahsoka suggested forming a rebellion.

And now, almost two years later, you’re still by her side in a rebellion of a much larger scale. When the worn Togruta showed up your doorstep, you didn’t think you’d end up on a starcruiser lightyears away from your home. But some part of you knew, even that early, that Ahsoka had no choice but to be stuck with you.

You decided you liked her when she punched your xenophobic neighbor without hesitation for sneering at her lekku.

You knew you trusted her when she told you about her past as a Jedi padawan.

And you realized you loved her when you watched her get sucked into outer space.

It doesn’t matter how the Imperial spy got aboard the cruiser. All that matters right now is your grip on the grooved vent cover and the fact that the last thing Ahsoka did before she got vacuumed into the great beyond was Force push you so hard that you slammed into the wall.

“C-8!” You scream, and hope you’re not imagining the quiet beep from up near at the control panel. “You have to get the gravitational field up! Now!”

You hear C-8 beep in confirmation over the howling wind, and you thank the stars that you weren’t imagining the droid before. You chance a glance up towards the droid just in time to see a supply crate zipping toward you, and your ripped fingers protest as you swing yourself closer to the wall to avoid getting hit. Gritting your teeth against the pain, you find the strength to look up again and see C-8 has made it to the control panel.

And just like that, it’s over. You gasp as the gravity shifts back to normal and you think you feel a rib crack as you slam back down onto the hangar floor.

“Shit,” you hiss and grip your side with bloodied fingers, as if that will help the internal injury. You don’t even have time to take stock of the situation before you feel the now-familiar heat of a blaster bolt whizzing just over your head. “Shit!”

You push yourself up and scramble behind the nearest X-wing, drawing your blaster as you go. You surprise yourself by nearly dropping the damned thing with your slippery red hands. Damn, that vent really did a number on you.

Holding the blaster under your chin, you peer around the X-wing just in time to see Lyra (your personal favorite pilot) poke her head out of her own ship. She motions to you to stay down and you drop into a crouch just in time to see her lean over her hull and take out the spy, who had been sneaking up behind you.

You sigh in relief and lower your blaster. “C, is that all of them?” One chirp for yes rings across the hangar. “How long were we down?” The droid chirps again and your heart sinks.

The gravitational field was only down for a thirty seconds. Thirty seconds. And the only reason you’re still standing here is because of Ahsoka.

“Oh, stars.” Ahsoka. You quickly tuck your blaster into its holster and take off running towards the blue force field at the end of the hangar. A group of pilots and mechanics are gathered towards the middle of the field, staring out at the bodies and various debris floating in the space beyond. Your heart speeds up as you scan the debris desperately and it’s not long before a flash of orange catches your eye.

As usual, she’s at the eye of the storm, and one hand is extended out in front of her as she pulls herself back toward the ship with the last bit of strength she has left. You rush over to where she’ll drop in, and the force field warbles as she enters the gravitational field and drops like a stone, unmoving.

"Ahsoka!” you shriek and sprint toward her, shoving the pilot who reached her first out of the way so you can kneel beside her.

Every inch of her is covered in ice from the tips of her lekku to her boots. Her eyelashes are white with frost, and when you take her hand in yours, you notice that the tips of her fingers are blue.

Your hands are shaking as you bring them up to cradle her face gently, feeling the thin layer of frost crumble beneath your fingertips. Tears well up in your eyes when she doesn’t move an inch under your touch. “Ahsoka?” you whimper her name, to no avail. “Ahsoka, please, don’t do this.”

Still, no response. After a few moments of suffocating silence you rock forward on your knees and press your forehead against hers. “Ahsoka Tano, you have to come back to me,” you command. “If you do this to me I will never forgive you.”

And, as if on cue, just as you open your eyes, her beautiful blue ones flutter open.

“Oh stars, Ahsoka,” you sob with relief and press a frantic kiss to her forehead before wrapping your arms around her shoulders and burying your face in her neck. Her body is ice cold.

“(y/n),” she mumbles, voice gravelly in your ear. “You’re bleeding.”

You huff out a hysterical laugh and pull back just enough so you can see her face. “Oh, that’s so typical. You just pulled yourself out of outer space and you’re worried because my hands are bleeding.”

The Togruta cracks a small smile. “That’s right.”

“I can’t stand you,” you say, even as you feel your face crumple with relief. You dip your head and press a kiss to her cheek. “Force, Ahsoka, I thought you’d died. You can never do that to me again, okay?”

Your tears only intensify when you feel her arms wrap weakly around you in return. “(y/n), if you’re going to kiss me...just do it.”

You laugh hysterically and press a long kiss to her lips, savoring the fact that she’s alive. She’s not lost in outer space, never to be seen again. And if that’s what it took for you to finally kiss Ahsoka Tano, then you can’t be too mad about it.

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oolathurman · 1 year

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yknow how odessen is basically a military base? where's all the civilians?

there's no way folks signing up to go to odessen don't bring their non-military spouses, families, etc.. people don't not bring their families with them if they have the chance. having family nearby is a huge morale boost, and if you're an underdog faction you need morale as high as you can get.

so where do the civilians go in case of emergency? where do the house spouses and kids go? is this a battle of helms deep situation, where there's a bunker just for them? I'd like to think there's a couple options in case of emergency. perhaps the ideal primary option is a civvy bunker away from the main base, where they can be escorted to a relatively safe location, away from where fighting would be. but folks would only be able to get there given enough warning. there's likely an additional civilian bunker near or even within the base, in case civilians can't be moved out in time.

and what would life be like for these individuals? there's gonna be kids of all ages. there's gotta be some sort of basic education for these kids, if only so the parents can get the kids out of their hair/lekku/etc for a while. like a schoolhouse or something. and you just KNOW that parents who are more inclined towards one faction or another would bristle at education standards and practices of the other faction, especially if say, you have a teacher who's from the republic and who is spouting anti-imperial propaganda.

what's the commissary on the base like? do folks get to request specific ingredients that remind them of home? i used to have to go to a commissary and (iirc) my parents got us instant ramen at said commissary bc they requested it. what about special herbs and spices? (not the drug kind)

i just love to hear more about the everyday lives of people who aren't in charge of changing the galaxy.

#swtor #world building #my stuff

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bleughs · 11 months

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closer and closer and closer

boba fett/reader

~3k words explicit, 18+ only! toys, masturbation, vouyerism, fingering ao3 link a/n: [john wick voice] people keep asking if I'm back and I haven't really had an answer. but now, yeah, I'm thinkin' I'm back! …idk how fics on tumblr work anymore, but i'm plopping this here! womp womp, give it a like/reblog/whatever happens now!

Dust falls across the vast Dune Sea, the sinking suns lassoing the heat of the day with it as it sinks below the far off horizon. The lamps are low around the palace, only enough electricity to flicker across the ancient stone walls. It’s the middle of the night — near morning, really, and the wind finds its way through any crack and crevice in the stone, the sound of the weaving breeze eerily similar to whispers.

The night is dark and all but quiet, except —

Except for a white-blue light illuminating your face, and a soft, constant bzzz muffled by the sheets over your body.

Two women, a human and a Twi’lek, moan into each other's mouths as they grind against one another. The Twi’, gorgeous cerulean skin sloping over full thighs, light lines of stretch marks zig-zagging across her hips, gently thrusts into her partner, a big, fat, fake cock swallowed by the human woman’s sloppy, wet cunt.

Quiet sounds emanate from your holopad, volume so low you can hardly hear but you do hear enough, aching groans from the receiver as the Twi’lek pushes into her deep, harder. Your own cunt throbs around nothing but the vibrating wand firmly on your clit makes your whole body shiver. Your eyes dance across your screen, from where the women are connected to the Twi’s long jeweled lekku to the human’s breasts as they bounce with each thrust. Your toes are already curling.

The holopad is propped up against a pillow on your lap, not the most ergonomic position but good enough to get the job done. Despite the low volume, the sounds of the video still echo quietly in the grand room, and the sheets below and atop you — his sheets — are damp with your sweat. It’s been a long day and you’d hardly seen him, and you’re not desperate but you are needy and horny and unable to sleep from the restless coil in your gut and the wet ache between your legs. So you took matters into your own hands.

You’re not really sure where he is. But his bed was empty, and your wand was fully charged, and maybe there’s something about slipping in his bedroom and getting yourself off in his bed with his soft sheets wrapped around your legs.

Not that you think he’d mind. Your relationship is not one built upon control and domination... Well, sometimes it is, but only when the mood is right and he asks you to tell him how to eat it. You know he gets himself off privately, a small fact he likes to murmur against the shell of your ear as he enters you again and again and again, you sprawled beneath him and thinking about nothing but the way he pleases you so well, how you’d never leave this place if you could.

He tells you he often thinks of you when he touches himself, tugging the velvety skin of his thick shaft until he spills into his big hand. The thought alone was enough to make your body seize with ecstasy.

You think of him, too, often, in times like these. It’s hard not to when he gets you there so thoroughly, with enthusiasm. But sometimes you like to keep things fresh. You like to explore other possibilities. Not necessarily secret fantasies, but potential pleasures.

The Twi’lek says something about “taking it so well” and you utter an involuntary fuck at her soft, sultry tone. You readjust the want on your clit and the vibrations make you jolt and you have to turn down the intensity before you get overwhelmed. The human woman in your video nearly mimics you, lets out a pitiful whine and makes a move to scoot up the bed and away from the intensity of heat lover’s touch. But the Twi’ doesn’t let her. Blue fingers grip the soft hips of her partner and pull her close, thumb caressing the human’s skin with a particular familiarity that can only come with trust and affection. The dark leather of the strap cuts across the Twi’s hips, cups her ass, and she leans down over her lover and whispers something you can’t hear, but the woman below her moans and grabs her own breasts, kneads them, and one hand slips between their bodies down to her mound.

You push the wand harder onto your clit and stutter out a breath. A tingle starts in your toes and you know you’re close. Your gaze focuses on the receiving woman, on her pinched features and her face glistening with sweat. Is this what you look like when the pleasure becomes too much? Her head falls back against the pillow and the faintest of smiles graces her lips. Do you have such a natural, beautiful look of euphoria when you — when he — when maybe someone else…

You feel the tingle in your calves now, up your thighs, a spring wound too tightened nearly ready to pop. The vibrations from the wand seem to penetrate into your bones. “Please,” you say into the empty air. “Pleasepleaseplease.” The Twi’lek’s hips hit flush with her lover’s and they both moan, the Twi’ staring into her partner’s face with twitching lips and intense, fiery eyes.

Is this what you’d look like fucking someone?

Your cunt throbs at the thought.

A quiet wssk, hardly loud enough to hear. You’re coiled up too tight to notice anything else but the women fucking on the screen in front of you and your own pulsing core ready to release at any second. The wand is heavy in your hand and you eke out a strained, pitiful voice. “Please, gods, please,” you say. “I’m so close, please.”

A heavy footfall from across the room. “Finish, then.”

The voice — his voice — doesn’t quite make you jump, but you gasp, your hips jolt, and you loll your head to the side.

There he is, leaning against the doorway all too casual, helmet off so you can see the pleased smirk that graces his face. He’s got his armor on, deep green and hints of yellow and cloaked in shadows, nearly a silhouette if not for the faint golden light from the lamps that halo around him.

You bite your lip. “Boba, I — “

“Finish,” he says again, a deep grumble from his throat. He nods toward the quiet buzzing between your legs. “Don’t let me interrupt. Please.” If you were not so distracted, you might see the smile lines at the corner of his lips.

You take a beat to think about the situation in which you now find yourself. You lower the wand slowly back to your aching clit and let out a stuttering breath. This is not the first time Boba has watched you please yourself. It’s just that it’s often a mutual act with mutual pleasure, sometimes on opposites of the room or closer, on either ends of the bed, him standing at the foot and you splayed out on these very sheets. The images of his hand wrapped around his weeping, girth cock invades your mind only for a moment, combatting the quiet, erotic sounds of the video, still playing. You search Boba’s face for something, you’re not really sure, and all you really find are his soft, older features you’re so familiar with, and a glint of hunger in his dark eyes.

You gaze at him for a second longer, and then roll your head back over the pillow to focus on your video, eyes adjusting to the unnatural white-blue light of the screen. That spring is still coiled tight inside you, and the vibrating wand, the erotic movements of the women on your pad, the presence of Boba mere feet away, watching you — the wave is creating, you can feel it from your flexed toes to your tight throat.

The Twi’lek reaches down to replace her partner’s fingers on her clit, yellow nail lacquer standing stark against both their skins, and she circles the bud with skill. She kisses the woman below her, a little sloppy, and says against her lips, “Lemme feel this pretty pussy pulse, baby.” Her lover whines, face twisting in pleasure. The Twi’, thrusting and notching her hips against her lover, smirks. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

You obey her command.

A groan, lodged somewhere between your ribs, rips itself free and claws up your throat. That spring pops with such force that your hips lift fully off the bed, chasing the pleasure coursing through your veins and your wand pushes into your clit and the vibrations reverberate throughout your body. The feeling ripples from your very core as you come and keep coming, writhing on the bed beneath the thin sheets. You keep the wand exactly where it is even though it’s nearing too much. It’s everything. You’re flying and falling and forgetting how to breathe.

Not every orgasm is like this. But when you can work yourself up to these tidal waves, you stay beneath the water as long as you can.

When the pleasure threatens to envelop you whole, you lift the wand off your clit and fall back onto the bed, leg twitching with aftershocks. The holopad falls to the side, artificial light illuminating the wrinkled sheets.

Your eyes fall closed with fatigue and your ears ring. You still hear the deep hum from across the room, and it makes you shiver.

Boba’s heavy footfalls make their way to the side of the bed and though you can’t see him, you feel him beside you. “I never get tired of seeing that, you know.” You let out something akin to a laugh, but it’s lazy and breathy. A tender hand sweeps hair from your sweaty forehead, and you lean into his touch. He hums again. “You are stunning like this.”

The smallest smile lifts your lips. “And you’re a romantic all of a sudden.”

Boba chuckles. “I allow myself moments.” A pause. The whistling wind. “Mind if I take a look at what you were watching?”

You reach blindly across the bed, feeling for the holopad until you feel the metal edge, and hand it to him without looking. His callused fingers unwrap yours from the device.

It’s silent for a beat more, and then, “Huh.” You crack an eye open, peer up at him as he looms over you. He swipes across the screen, an eyebrow raised.

“What,” you ask.

“Nothing, I just — I didn’t realize you were interested in this…genre.” He looks at you over the top of the pad.

“Well,” you start, searching for some sort of explanation to give. You find the simplest one, and it’s the truth. “I am.”

He sets the pad aside, and smirks again. “Perhaps we’ll have to compare notes soon.”

You smile, languid and easy. The hand on your forehead moves to caress your cheek, and then cup your jaw. You relish the sensation of rough calluses of his hands against your skin, closing your eyes again and letting him feel you. He reaches further still, until he thumbs the swell of your breast, the rest of your body hidden beneath the sheets. You arch up into his touch.

“How are you feeling,” he asks, quiet.

“Mmm. Good.”

The sheets start to slip down your body, first exposing your breasts, cool night air perking your nipples. Boba makes short time of exploring this newly revealed skin. A big hand cups your breast, thumb passing over your nipple, kneads your pliant flesh. This is euphoric — you in his grasp, letting your inhibitions fall by the wayside as he palms you, exalting your body in his particular kind of worship. He sweeps his knuckles over your other nipple and you gasp, quiet, body still buzzing from your recent high.

“Are you tired?”

You shake your head against the pillow. “No, I — “ Your words stall as his hand drifts lower, across the soft flesh of your stomach. “I’m not, I mean — I’m not too tired.” Though your limbs are heavy, there’s a lightness to you. And you’re only getting lighter as Boba’s touch walks further down your body.

The mattress sinks next to you as he sits on the edge of the bed. “It’s past midnight,” he says, and his tone is even, calm, like his ghosting touches aren’t starting to work you up again. “You’ll be tired in the morning if you don’t get some sleep soon.” His wandering fingers reach the edge of your coarse curls, and the gentle ministrations are not enough and you want to grab his hand and put it right where you want it because the teasing is almost as bad as overstimulation, two sides of the same credit.

Instead of answering him with a command to stop messing around, a whine leaves your parted lips and your hips lift off the bed into his touch. The low rumble of a chuckle reverberates from him, and with his other hand he pushes your hips back down. “If you’re not tired, maybe I should lull you to sleep. How does that —“

Without coherent thought and working more on instinct, you reach down to grab his wrist, and you feel the tendons beneath his skin twitch as his fingers flex. “Stop stalling,” you slur out, and push his hand through your curls and to the wet, warm apex of your parted thighs. His fingers finally reach your lower lips, and your toes curl.

He does laugh this time, a warm sound that slips over you like how his fingers now slip between your labia, unhurried and lazy. “Yes, ma’am.”

Thick digits part you, and you widen your legs to give him more access. Wet, lewd noises fill the room now, your slick coating his fingers as he moves through your lips, taking his time. You twitch, still so sensitive, and let your mind clear of everything save for the pleasure Boba is giving you. He makes small sounds, low hums and groans as he works your cunt. He has yet to breach you, but it doesn’t matter because his fingers find your clit, swollen and responsive, and you suck in a breath when he circles it slowly. The hand not at your cunt roams north to massage your breast, easy kneading and flicks against your nipples. “You seem to have made a mess of my bed,” he grumbles, no doubt meaning the sticky wet spot you’re lying in.

You huff out an excuse. “It happens.”

“That it does.” He leans down toward you, and you feel his breath ghost over your face. “Not to worry, I’ll clean it up.”

And he kisses you then, with leisure and ease, lips moving against your own, tongue licking against them, and you bring a hand up to cup his jaw and pull him closer. You breathe him in, the musk and smoke and blaster fire of him, leather and steel and sex. He moans into your mouth and then his fingers enter you, finally, and you groan against his tongue and his swallows up the sound like he’s starving for it. Thick digits work you open, push up against your walls to find that coveted spot inside you, and find it he does because he’s done this before, dozens of times in the relatively brief duration of your relationship because you two just can’t get enough of each other. Boba is gruff and brusque and enigmatic and terse, but he’s also gentle and kind and profound and a giving lover, and he doesn’t ask you where you’re going or when you’ll get back but he always waits up for you anyway. His laugh may be rare but it fills you with the warmth of the twin suns, and his whispers against your skin tattoo a mark you’ll never forget, even if whatever this is may be fleeting, or maybe it’ll be forever. His eyes are dark and penetrating and he knows more than he lets on and you like that about him, that he keeps his cards close to his chest until he’s ready to reveal his hand. And when his hand is inside you, like now, you think this, this is what you’ve been starving for. To watch your pleasure flow into him as he gets you off, as he gives you a part of himself and you him, you sometimes think this is all you really need. You both give and take and give and though he can shake down kingpins and warlords, he takes you with gentle hands and soft, sultry words.

You gasp, throb against his three thick fingers inside you. “I’m close,” you rush out against his jaw, his skin warm and rough with scars.

He breathes you in. “Then come for me.”

You do. Of course you do.

#boba fett #boba fett/reader #star wars fic #star wars fanfic #sw fic #boba fett x reader #idk what tf else to put i feel like a newborn even tho i been doing this shit for years pffftttt #hi guys :) if anyone finds me here :))))#i'm going to therapy now! i am Better :)

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