#tcw art
inky-axolotl · 10 months ago
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Was a plo koon warmup initially as suggested by @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life when I encountered this dialogue idea from @totallycorrectjediorderquotes and it went overboard from there! The “Protocol” number is indeed a reference to something in star wars, so I’m curious to see if anyone figures it out!
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jazaesis · a month ago
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“In the name of the Jedi Order, stand down” ~wip~
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alamogirl80 · a month ago
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Hardcase just likes to make others happy.
Or: What if Mace Windu worked with the 501st after Umbara and Hardcase developed a little crush?
Based on a conversation with @cobaltbeam and @catawampuscorner
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littlefeatherr · 5 months ago
Olde Republic: Plo Koon by Jake Bartok
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sponge-goblin-art · 7 months ago
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Graduating class of 19BBY
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jango-fettish · a year ago
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The Marshal Commander
This took me very long but I’m very happy with it ✌🏻new version here
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commander-neyo · 8 months ago
Here's CC-1010 - Marshall Commander Fox with a lightsaber:
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Finally, finally he is done...
I mean, he is done all the time (mentally, but I didn't refer to that)😅
May the Fox be with you, always
(click him for a better resolution)
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rubytotherebellion · 29 days ago
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(Fanart + little drabble)
Tags: Improper use of the Force, Mind Sex, Choking, Dom/Sub, Master/Pet, Established Relationship, Touch of aftercare
18+ ONLY
“Oh, but I do enjoy your little purrs and whimpers. So very exciting, tantalizing…that the faintest brush against your mind can elicit such a violent surge of pleasure.”
He brushes his fingertips down from the nape of your neck, to the base of your spine. Watching you shiver, listening intently to the crescendo of your muted pants.
It’s musical, heated, but as delicate as a reed flute. Easily broken. But so beautiful in its fragility.
“So fragile…I could crush your consciousness with a single burst of rage.” He snorts, a singular huff of amusement at his own proclivities.
You can feel the sensations building, mounting a high wall of rising pleasure and ecstasy. He’s skating up your mental barriers like a towering wave. There’s no point in resisting, you know his essence will seep through the very cracks in its foundation, ripping it apart from the inside out.
“Can you feel it?” He breathes out low into your ear, the vibrations tickling through your core. It’s so pleasurable it’s almost pain.
“You are mine. Irrevocably and unequivocally—mine.” He strokes the curve of your clavicle, fingers teasing the dips.
“My pet, my toy.” He grabs your throat, wrapping his strong fingers around your airway, there’s no room left for breath.
You freeze. Waiting. Watching the cold eyes contemplate the value of your life breath.
Do you please him?
Will he keep you?
His pet.
Each eye is a black hole dragging you inside, swallowed whole. There is nothing but him. The blown pupils drag the magnolia irises down into their vortex
His darkness…is your darkness
One in the same.
The silence is making your tongue feel like cloth, but you can’t gather the courage to move your jaw. Trapped between the pressure of his hand and the bludgeoning force of pleasure smothering your mind.
It’s too much, but still somehow not enough. You need more. And you know that he does too.
“Tell me you understand. Tell me…what are you?” His voice is like honey and knives combined, slicing your mind, then lavishing the cuts with sweetness.
“…pet…” You choke.
He does not turn his gaze away. Never giving you a moment to breathe.
“And?” He shakes you, pulling your body up with the strength of one arm. Until your entire weight is raised off the ground.
You hang there, panting in incoherent ecstasy. The pleasure is intangible. If someone asked you to describe it, his mind subjugating yours underneath him—it would be impossible.
“…toy.” You finally gasp out. Another rip of talons into your consciousness ravages you.
“Ah, yes…” He drags the last syllable out on his tongue like a prayer. It rolls through your mind, you can hear his voice in your head. Fingering the sensitive areas, playing with them, taunting you.
He could give you more. You know this is just a taste.
As if sensing your desperation, “Your greed surprises even me, pet.” He laughs indifferently, and pulls you closer to him.
Red and black. Crimson and jet. Your world is consumed by fire. You can see nothing else.
Something wet swipes languidly up the side of your neck. Simultaneously, claws dig into your mind’s pleasure sensors.
Everything goes white.
You pant, scraping your fingers across muscled forearms. Nothing gives. You must endure. And everything is burning. Your mind is burning with feeling, euphoria and icy pain entwining—making love with each other inside you.
You have never felt more full, consumed entirely.
Inside and outside yourself, a voice echoes, “Such a good pet. That’s it, only I can make you feel this. Only I can tear you open…”
Something dark smothers the while light behind your eyelids, dampening the blazing sun inside your mind.
“This ultimate pleasure, this you can only get from me.”
It’s as if a candle was blown out inside your being. Everything snaps, and the darkness plunges you back into your body, into the physical.
You hear someone sobbing, wailing. It’s you.
Your own throat is vibrating with the sound. Undulating cries of both longing and pleasure. Stop it. You have to stop it. But you’re still disconnected from your own limbs, which are flailing wildly. Seeking purchase, and finding only a hard chest, and cruelly contoured jaw.
“Open your eyes.” Says the voice right next to your ear, deep and sweet. You know you can’t trust it, but you fall into it anyway, giving yourself over to it. Soul released into the clutches of your master.
There’s no other word for him. He controls all of your senses, and your mind now too, your very desires are molded and shaped by him. You are becoming who, what, he wants you to be. And you will do it gladly for him. You would do anything for him, willingly. And then thank him for it after.
“Master…” You whisper, a fluttering moan that leaks through your lips. An apology as your eyelids reject your command.
He growls in reply, but after so long spent trusting yourself to his designs, you hear the undertones of warmth. He’s like a nexu, menacing, terrifying even. But if you scratch its chin, and offer it something tempting to devour, it’ll lick and purr resemblant of a domesticated lothcat.
“Ah my pet, even now, so utterly spent–you tempt me with your submission.”
You feel an arm reach around behind your back, pulling your body to his chest, and the weight of you being lowered down, feet contacting with the tile beneath your bare heels. But your length slumps against him, unable to support itself. Limbs melting, useless and pliant in his hold.
So close to him like this, his warmth bleeding into you where your bodies connect. Faintly, you feel him still inside your mind, he’s running invisible fingers across your awareness. Stroking the sore points, making your shudders staccato against his unyielding frame.
And he so loves your shaking, your surrender, when you bow in worshipful compliance to his will.
“Come now, dear one.” He whispers into your mind, like he’s sharing a secret.
You shiver, dragging burdensome eyelids up. You cannot disobey, despite how even the candlelit chamber seems to burn your retinas.
He’s there, his face only a breadth away from your own. Amber eyes pouring down into yours. You blink against the force of power in their depths.
“There you are, so good for me.” A smile which seems at its core, egoistic, ghosting across his lips.
A part of you wants nothing more than to reach forward, cross the small space and kiss them, but you know better.
His amusement chuckles through your mind, a vibration of somehow tender delight at your desires.
“All in due time, pet, patience.” Reading you like an open book.
You can’t help but sigh in resignation, draping your arms around his neck. He releases his hold on your throat completely, and grabs your legs, hoisting thighs up around his waist. You cling to him like a life raft, and he laughs aloud this time, pleased at how used and mentally wasted his toy feels.
He carries you like a weightless bird, bringing you to the luxuriantly cushioned bed, he whirls and falls back into the mattress, bringing you toppling down on top of him. Careful to guide your body’s descent.
Toppling against him with a gasp, you find your face hovering above him. A wave of heat and arousal washes through your consciousness, fanning the flames of your own diminishing lust. He’s feeding you his own hunger, stirring up your mind.
He wants you.
He needs you.
He wants to feel you.
You lean down, giving into the urge now that you’ve been given permission. Your lips connect. And it’s fire, and ice again. Love and lust. Or maybe just lust. Whatever this is, you accept it, welcome it.
His tongue takes control of your mouth, violating you with precision and twisting your body into him, rolling you over—forcing you underneath him.
You go without struggle. The voice inside your mind chants, yes, yes, yes. It’s not just your voice, it’s his too.
Together you coil and bend, bodies writhing together, tongues battling, and fingers stroking over sleek skin. You can lose yourself in this. You do.
Everything you can give to him, you will.
Your master.
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punkascas · 4 months ago
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Title: In This Our Liberty Writer: @punkascas Artists: @mock-speed, @nottonyharrison, & The Reverend Noah Fence III, Esq. Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95,000 Pairing(s): Codywan (brief Cody/Other, past Obi-Wan/Satine) Major Warning(s)/Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence; Canon Divergence; Cody & the Clones; Slow Burn; Politics; Ethics; Angst with a Happy Ending; A Wondrous Journey Through Bureaucracy Posting Date: Tuesday, 29 March 2022
Then, one day, just like that, the war sputters to a halt.
Supreme Chancellor Palpatine of the Republic and Count Dooku of the Confederation of Independent Systems are found mysteriously dead. But the galaxy remains in turmoil, battle-scarred and divided. Both the Republic and the Separatists struggle for stability and the path to an uneasy peace. The Jedi Order, decimated and despised for their role in the war, seek to turn inward to find healing. And the clones, military property, recalled and stranded high above Coruscant in cramped decommissioned Star Destroyers, await orders and a life-or-death decision from the Senate.
Just what exactly is their purpose now without a war to fight?
Or: The one where Cody figures out mutiny, politics, road trips, change management, bias, society, online learning, humanity, family, childhood, recovery, the galaxy, himself, and Obi-Wan Kenobi. Roughly in that order.
[credit: promo graphic by @mock-speed and @punkascas]
Neyo leaned back in the booth, shoulders slack as if in parade rest. Any natborn might think Neyo looked amenable; another clone knew better. "So what can I do for you, Marshal Commander?"
Finally, here was the heart of it. Cody pressed his heels to the floor but tried to keep his hands loose. Obi-Wan had said once that Cody felt like a mountain in the Force: unmovable. He tried to be like that now, rooted to the core of the planet, untouchable by wind or rain.
"Episodes of in-fighting are increasing." It felt best to treat this as though it were only another report. "The downtime is killing morale. There are no orders to give. Quarters are tight. We're triple and even quadruple hot-bunking just to give everyone a rack. Meanwhile, the Senate is focused on Chancellor elections and is ignoring the three million trained and restless soldiers bored aboard highly powered Star Destroyers. Sitting in orbit above the Republic's capital and most-populated planet. And that this could be seen as an untenable risk for Republic citizens and politicians seeking re-election."
Cody took a deep breath. At some point, his fingers had clenched into fists. Neyo understood command; Neyo would see how dire the situation was. He had to.
"Something will break soon."
Neyo barely seemed to blink. He seemed like a clone who could stare into the heart of an explosion and not flinch. But even he took a moment to respond. "You think we're at risk for renegade squads deciding to break the ceasefire on their own?"
Yes, Cody wanted to say. And no. Worse. Something far worse.
"You think they'll disband us," Neyo said, not a question.
All clones were genetically identical. Neyo's face should have been the same face Cody saw in the mirror. But he couldn't read Neyo at this moment. His instincts had fled him. He wasn't a mountain; he was a crumbling landslide, full of terror and powerless to stop it.
"We're not people. We're just clones," Cody whispered. He stared at his hands on the table, gloveless and bared. They were made up of tiny scars from the sharp edges of damaged plates and plasma burns from jammed cartridges and human skin that sometimes felt less real than his blacks and armour. "War is expensive. Why would they pour more money into keeping us fed? Housed? As soon as the election concludes, maybe even before that — continuing to fund us could be seen as throwing good credits after bad."
At the top of his vision, he saw Neyo stiffen. "We belong to the Republic. Were created to serve the Republic."
"And we did. And now — what are we for?"
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flyboy-and-fight-me · a year ago
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[Angy Ahsoka Noises]
Bad padawans get rolled up in carpet jail.
This seems like something Obi-Wan used to use on feral baby Ani when he first came to the temple, and since Ahsoka can’t keep her chompers off of master Fisto’s pet space jellyfish she gets the carpet prison
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inky-axolotl · 10 months ago
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This one had been sitting in my folders for quite a while! Just Master Yoda meditating with his great-great-great grandpadawan.
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bb-8 · 8 months ago
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do you ever feel personally victimized by your own art 
happy aayla and bly ಥ_ಥ
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alamogirl80 · a month ago
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Stress relief
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Full Spice shot on my Twitter
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kungfuslipper · 11 months ago
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Graphite; my favorite scene from TCW.
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astriloquiis-art · 11 months ago
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💙🌻Captain Rex🌻💙
Blue Tulip - trust, loyalty
Gladiolus - strength of character, leadership
Yellow Rose - deep platonic love
Hawthorne Flower - love, protection
Blue Hydrangea - emotions, honesty
Forget-Me-Nots - respect, fidelity/faithfulness
Daisy - new beginnings, hope
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jango-fettish · 6 months ago
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pew pew
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jetiisse · 5 months ago
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commission for @phoenixyfriend ! good ol cody never gets a break 
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galateagalvanized · 5 months ago
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If you haven't read the last chapter of The Evening Arallute, now is a great time to see the infamous black dress from the first chapter reappear in a new illustration! If you haven't seen the story yet, it's got: cheap and expensive thrills, terrible puns, mistaken identities, unmistakeable identities, and mistakenly mistaken identities. At one point, Obi-Wan sings on top of a piano. At another, Commander Cody dangles out of a LAAT/I by his tuxedo jacket. Please check it out!
Lastly, this chapter is very explicit, the dress does feature heavily, and it's definitely the last from this spy thriller saga. I hope you enjoy it!
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doodlethezen · a year ago
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Based off @totallycorrectjediorderquotes’s post.
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dreamydroid · 3 months ago
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Pew pew
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