Anonymous

Ohhh poor Obi-Wan! In Sightlessbird, how do Ani, Rex, and Fox handle their downed birdie? Do they go and hunt down whoever did this, do they stick by him, maybe Fox tells Ani why they call Obi ‘Birdie’?I’m so anxious to find out what happens next! You are a fantastic writer, Moddy!

Posted on av swmoddy

Pausing in his reading when the door opened, Anakin’s parsec tension eased as the familiar red and white armor stepped in, Fox glancing about with his helmet under his arm before the commander nodded to Anakin in greeting. “Sir.”

Nodding back, Anakin settled his pad down on the bed. “Commander, you just missed Rex… and dinner.” He chuckled quietly as he leaned back in his chair.

Fox snorted slightly, coming over to sit on Obi-Wan’s bedside on the other side from Anakin to avoid crowding.

Fox pulled off his gloves, settling them into his belt and then he gingerly picked up Obi-Wan’s IV attached hand and held it delicately between his own, stroking slowly with his fingertips as Anakin started filling him in on the healers prognosis for the day.

He and the commander had struck up a slightly… well, not odd but interesting relationship, maybe even a friendship, over the last few days as the man came to visit Obi-Wan.

Anakin would fill the commander in on how Obi-Wan was doing, they’d sit for a while and talk over Obi-Wan and to him, hoping the boy could hear them. The healers had felt it best to keep Obi-Wan in a healing coma, letting his body and the Force naturally deal with the effects the poison had on his systems.

Anakin hadn’t been too sure of that the first two days but on the third, with Obi-Wan’s face visibly less swollen and the color of his face returning to a soft pink shade instead of the grayness, he saw the wisdom of it.

Another day and they would be bringing Obi-Wan out of it and get him back on a meal plan due to his, at the moment, sensitive stomach and some slight weight loss and both Anakin, Fox and Rex were thrilled with that, the captain having hurried out to inform the rest of the 501st.

There were just too many of the men to visit the temple daily, so Rex was generally the one to come to the temple, using his comm recorder so the others could see Obi-Wan, even if it wasn’t in person. Anakin knew that all his men had some residual anxiety about losing Obi-Wan, just as they had lost Ahsoka and therefore didn’t begrudge them that comfort.

If he was honest, he had his own anxiety, especially after this poisoning attempt.

He couldn’t make sense of it.

Obi-Wan was a padawan, a young one, a minor.

He was also blind.

While the Jedi order knew he was capable and the troopers that saw him fight also learned it, the rest of the galaxy could be… iffy when it came to those of disabilities.

He had seen a few treat Obi-Wan as if he needed help walking everywhere or finding things, Obi-Wan’s frustration lining their bond along with agitation the other did his best to meditate away.

It wasn’t always easy and Anakin wasn’t much help in normal meditation but thankfully, moving meditation helped Obi-Wan too, or spending time with the troopers.

“Its good to hear that Birdie will be up soon, been missing him complaining about medical food.” The commander murmured when the conversation lulled slightly.

Tilting his head curiously, Anakin eyed the other man.

Fox caught it and raised a perfectly sculpted brow back at him, making Anakin wonder if the other plucked them to get them that shape. “Birdie. Little Bird. Even senaar, I’ve seen and heard the Coruscant Guard call Obi-Wan that before. Just… curious I guess, where the name comes from.” Anakin shrugged slightly, peering at him.

Caressing Obi-Wan’s hand slowly, Fox looked back down to Anakin’s padawan. “…The first time we meet him, he lost his vision. He was crying and screaming, in pain and yet still fighting,” He spoke slowly, figuring that if he could talk to anyone about this, it would be Obi-Wan’s master. “He looked so small, like the tubies back on Kamino.” The phantom smell of burning flesh was in Fox nose.

Swallowing thickly, Anakin glanced at the scar across Obi-Wan’s face. He had yet to ask for that story, not wanting to dredge up painful memories just yet.

Fox voice brought him back. “But… despite it all, despite being hurt, despite screaming… he didn’t let it slow him down. He lost something many people raised with vision would consider pivotal,” Fox reached out, stroking Obi-Wan’s long hair out of his face. “And instead of falling, he soared, showing aptitude and perseverance many people could only dream of, tackling his new life head on instead of hiding. It was impressive and we got to see it when he visited us once a week or commed us almost daily as he recovered… so he’s our little Bird, Birdie, our senaar. Flying high despite the circumstances of his life” Smiling slightly in fondness, Fox squeezed Obi-Wan’s small hand between his.

Peering between them, Anakin felt a small smile grow.

Well, put it that way, he could see why they had nicknamed Obi-Wan their bird.

I’ve been bingeing your writing for the past few days, and i’ve gotta say I love it! And I was wondering if you could do a bobadin or pazdin or whatever you want where din has a large scar on his face, and he takes his helmet off in front of them? Thank you!

Posted on av swmoddy

“Why are there plates of carbonite people here?” Din’s voice echoed back to Boba, causing him and Paz to pause their conversation to look to the silver mando, finding him behind the throne and peering at the wall.

Taking over the palace had gone smoothly, with Fennec going gun ho with a delight that was both frightening and hot and if Boba wasn’t already attracted to his two socially inept idiots, then maybe he would have considered something when the sharpshooter wasn’t feeling indebted to him.

As it was, he did have his two idiots, idiots that were just as frightening and hot as Paz had run in with a damn canon in his hands, cackling the entire time as he blasted people off their feet.

Din had gone for a more stealthy approach, quick kills while using his armor to take a few hits that shocked his enemy that the other survived.

Predators in every sense of the word, just different kinds of predators and Boba had barely needed to do any of the heavy lifting due to his trio.

While Paz and Boba had spoken about supply lines and armory, Din had started nosing around curiously, the other restless from the adrenaline that was slowly fading from his systems.

His question however had both Boba and Paz curious as the latter stood from his throne and turned to see the silver armored man.

Squinting, Boba let out a small snort of surprise as he saw what the other meant, hearing Paz let out a startled noise himself as he too saw that Din was correct.

The entire back wall was lined with plates of carbonite victims. “Well, I’ll be damned, seems Fortuna kept Jabba’s habit of keeping people as decorations.” He drawled, making his way over to Din with Paz following, his spurs echoing faintly in the as good as empty rooms.

Curiously, he wondered where Fennec had gone off to before deciding it didn’t matter as he figured she was most likely picking out where she was going to room. That or she was going through the rooms and stealing what she liked and wanted to keep.

Din tilted his head to look down at Boba when the other stopped at his side. “…You mean they’re just kept there as decorations?” Din sounded so bewildered and a tad unsettled that Boba couldn’t help but chuckle, reaching out to slide his arm around the others waist.

“Some, Jabba was a special kind of psychopath you see, he was a sore loser and he didn’t like to be rejected,” He stated wryly as he thought back to his past in this very palace as a bounty hunter. “Had a nasty habit of feeding slaves to a rancor he kept under the floor and keeping trophies.” He gestured to the wall of people.

Paz grunted, unsettled too apparently. “Macabre.” The heavy infantry man muttered .

Glancing around the throne room at the bodies still littering, Boba let out a small snort and looked up at the big shabuir.

Paz, taking the hint, glanced around too before shrugging. “We’re gonna clean it up, we just haven’t had the time yet.” He defended himself and Boba could almost imagine the pout in the others voice.

It was endearing and he couldn’t help but chuckle as he reached up and pulled on the others chestplate until Paz was leaning down.

Gently Boba tapped their foreheads together, smiling as he heard a pleased hum from the other man, his helmet simply spitting static. “Ner a’den alor’ad.” He murmured fondly.

Then he pulled back, pulling his helmet off and handing it to Paz and then a glove to tuck into his belt, reaching out to check the readings of the closest carbonite plate. “If I was to guess, Fortuna developed a habit of keeping people like this too, either because he genuinely liked it or because he thought it would scare people.” Boba mused, squinting at the readout on the carbonite screen.

Hmm, not too bad, he could release these people and they shouldn’t suffer too much effe-

There was a helmet seal hissing, freezing Boba in place as he stared at the screen and he could feel Paz freezing equally.

Both knew that Din had removed his helmet on Morak and on the imperial cruiser and both understood why.

It was for the child, the foundling, Din’s child.

For Grogu.

But there was no child here, only them and Boba’s heart was bouncing in his chest at the implications of the move. “…Can we look Din’ika?” He heard himself ask, Paz echoing the question with a soft, questioning whine himself, as if the man wanted to look but was keeping himself in check.

“…Yes. You both can.” Din’s voice was low, still graveled without the vocoder but softer at the same time, maybe even gentle despite the nervousness in it.

Turning quickly, Boba eyes first found the silver helmet in the others arms, being held tightly and then his eyes jumped up, finding the others face as he held his breath.

Din peered back at them with nervous, large brown eyes that jumped between them as his flattened hair was brushed out of his face by a gloved hand, a trimmed mustache above his top lip showing that Din took care of his face as best he could despite keeping it under the bucket.

But more notable than any of that was the large and pinkish scar crossing from the man’s right temple, cutting slightly through the eyebrow, over the nose and ending horizontally to the others mouth on the left cheek.

With his helmet and as religious as both Paz and Din had been about wearing it, that injury should have been close to impossible.

The damage it would take for Din to get it would have to be vast and by the startled noise Paz let out behind Boba, Boba knew that the scar had not been there prior to Din swearing to the creed.

Paz and Din had been raised in the same Covert, had fought in the same team and Paz would have known had the other been greatly injured or had it prior to putting on his helmet.

It meant that Din had gotten it after, while being a bounty hunter most likely Boba suspected.

He had questions.

Questions he knew Din would not answer in that moment with how nervous he was.

But that didn’t matter as he instead reached up and cupped the others cheek with a hand, gently rubbing it to feel the scratch of stubble. “Mesh’la.” He whispered reverently, smiling at the sight of a dark flush filling those cheeks with pink.

It served to darken the scar crossing from the others right temple to the left cheek even as Din smiled shyly at them, leaning into Paz hand when the other reached an ungloved, dark hand over Boba’s shoulder to cup Din’s other cheek. “Indeed.” Paz agreed quietly, his modulated voice low and warm.

Not quite ready to remove his own helmet, but happy to see Din all the same.

Translation: Shabuir = strong insult, like jerk but slightly more

Ner a’den alor’ad  = My rage captain

Mesh’la = Beautiful

Offff, as a nurse, I wouldn’t be happy if I was Russal lol. But Din did need some comfort

Posted on av swmoddy

Russal had not been happy about finding them both in the same bed, the medic a mix between terrified and incensed as he stared down at Boba. Hopefully the kid grew a spine soon, he would need it to be dealing with the medical needs not only of Din but also of Boba himself.

Then there was Fennec and her captains and all the enforcers that got personal treatment at the palace and didn’t have to go to the clinic in town.

Boba still didn’t regret it, Din’s fragile expression the night before haunting him as he woke the other and gently had him sit up for Russal as Boba held his good hand, the medic checking first on Din’s hand.

The medic did have good news, telling him that while Din was going to have some weakness in the fingers and that he had likely lost some some feeling in the nerves, he would be able to use his hand fully with a bit of therapy.

He had advised getting a stress ball for Din to squeeze and curl his fingers around and would forward a few hand exercises to Boba’s terminal for the two to look over and get Din started on his physical therapy.

While still swollen, Din’s eye would also make a full recovery and with enough fluids, Din’s current dehydration would also be a thing of the past, though Boba was already awake of that.

He was just thankful that beyond the fingers, there wouldn’t be permanent harm to Din, seeing the other in the cell, slumped to the wall, his face bruised and swollen with blood running down his arm…

It had terrified Boba.

A fear he long thought buried had risen sharply as his mind jumped to Geonosis, wondering if he was too late, wondering if he was going to witness someone he loved die once more and be unable to do anything.

But Din was alive, weak but alive and once more safe with Boba.

Din had thrown a fit, a very weak one at that, until Boba gave him and clicked his collar back on the other man once Russal was finished examining him and had confirmed that Din’s neck was fully healed from the blisters it had when they found him.

Russal warned them both that Din would most likely experience a mild fever from what his body had been put through, but to not worry and just remember to eat and drink once they left the medbay.

His only major warning had been if Din started to feel that his fingers were hurting, to come back the moment he noticed in case there was an infection setting in, if there had been a contaminant that Russal had not removed or seen.

Though that would be for when he left the medbay, Russal wanted the man to spend one more night and where Din stayed, Boba remained.

Russal allowed it, if only because he saw how tense Din got at the prospect of being separated from Boba, recognizing what Boba already knew.

Din was still scared and needed what was familiar and safe around him.

Which was why the medic said nothing when he saw Boba in the same bed as Din later on, Din sleeping with his head pillowed on Boba’s shoulder as the King of Tatooine went over his messages on a pad.

The door opening however cut Boba’s perusal off as he turned his head, raising his brow when he saw the Marshal standing there awkwardly, the man stepping in when Boba gestured for him.

Best not let sand into the medbay afterall.

Slowly, Cobb wandered over, sans his armor and Boba absently noted the man was built but how he had been comfortable in Boba’s armor he had no idea. The man was leaner than Boba, the armor must have surely bruised him. “What can I help you with Marshal?” Boba drawled when the man was standing at the bedside.

Rocking on his heels, Cobb sucked on his teeth, glancing between Boba and a sleeping Din, his eyes lingering on the arm settled around the slender waist of the mando. And Boba took notice that the man was trying to avoid looking at Din’s face.

Interesting.

The marshal must feel like he didn’t quite have permission and was uncomfortable being there, and yet he had forced himself to come to the medbay.

Curious, Boba raised his brow at the other man.

Finally Cobb sighed deeply. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend to understand all of this,” He made a vague gesture towards Din and Boba noted the others hazel eyes flashing to the collar. He felt himself tense but Cobb’s next words disarmed any actions he thought of taking. “But I know Din is happy like this, genuinely happy and not the fucked up kind where you just get so used to a situation that you convince yourself you’re happy,” The marshal stuck his thumbs into his belt, shifting slightly on the balls of his feet. “And… he needs that. I know he needs that after everything. So while I don’t get it, any of it, I do know that you and this, genuinely makes him happy.” Cobb eyed Boba, a small frown on his face.

Boba said nothing, simply ran his hand through Din’s hair with gentle fingers.

Really, what was he suppose to say?

I’m sorry your friend is kinky and you don’t get it?

Or explain to the other the dimension of relationships some people could have?

It was clear that to Cobb Vanth, these weren’t quite the things he understood.

But from what Boba could pierce together about the marshal being a former slave, that wasn’t too shocking.

Someone forced to kneel didn’t always understand why someone else would willingly choose to submit to another.

As long as he didn’t judge Din for it, Boba couldn’t care less. Din needed friends, someone he could talk to and while Din had made a friend in Fennec…

Well, he couldn’t just have her and sometimes the comm unit from Nevarro was spastic at best depending on the signal, so speaking to Cara wasn’t always easy.

Cobb both knowing Din as the mando and as Princess however?

Yes, that made life easier for Din, it meant that he had a friend that could not only call him but also visit him.

A friend that was willing to come in gun blazing that was actually living on Tatooine and could reach him in less than a day if pressed.

Setting his pad aside, moving carefully so not to disturb Din, Boba let out a low rumbling noise and settled his now free hand in Din’s hair. “Some people,” He stated slowly, feeling Cobb watching him as Boba looked at Din’s sleep softened face. “Need to be able to let go but can’t quite manage on their own. They feel that they need to be in constant control but that is not a way for humans to live, it makes them go taunt, like a wire, a wire that could snap.” He glanced up to see if the other got it.

Cobb was frowning, hands tightening on his belt. “So he… this is a way for Din to relax?” He spoke slowly, as if he was uncertain that was the right question.

Tilting his head, Boba hummed. “Partly. He also gets pleasure from it. Some people find pleasure in obedience and there is a difference in what is forcibly taken,” Boba stared up at Cobb, the man breaking into an ugly flush with an angry grimace and Boba looked back down to Din. “And what is willingly offered to someone you trust not to abuse the privilege.”

The medbay descended into silence as Cobb thought that over, staring at Din’s IV line. “…I don’t get it,” He shook his head, sighing before smiling wryly. “But I don’t have to. Din’s happy, that’s what matters, especially after everything that’s gone down.” He shrugged.

Humming at that, Boba stroked Din’s greasy hair, noting he was going to wash the other when they got back to their room, maybe soak in the tub for a good while together. “As long as you remain his friend, I don’t think you have to do anything else.” He purposely used a light voice.

And got a deep, knowing snort in return. “And if I didn’t, you’d deal with it. Don’t think I don’t realize that,” Cobb gave him a vicious little grin and Boba smirked back. He kinda liked the other he had to admit. “And don’t worry. Din’s friendship isn’t made with demands, judgments or caveats, as long as he’s having fun, I don’t care.” He chuckled.

Alright, Boba really liked the marshal now.

It was nice to know Din had friends on Tatooine.

I was wondering, when you don’t answer a prompt, does that just mean you didn’t like it or could it have been lost somewhere? I don’t want to pressure you or anything, I was just wondering :)

Posted on av swmoddy

Well for the most part it can be a mix of the message not getting to me due to tumblr being a mess, the prompt being doubled up and therefore I discard it if I pick another persons prompt… or, in some cases

I have so many prompts that I am just taking a long time to go through them. At the current moment, I got 118 messages. Some of them are VERY old but I want to do them, so I’ve clung to them.

I don’t mean to ignore prompts but sometimes they honestly don’t get to me, I got so many some get lost among the stuff or the prompts being doubled up for the same story line and I can’t write all the prompts and some just don’t fit with the storyline.

So yeah, it can be a mix of reasons for not responding to some prompts.

If they are new and don’t show up in the Promptrun, I either am holding onto the prompt, hoping I can do it or they never got to me.

Oh damn! I really need to know if Din is gonna be fine in sweet princess 0.0 boba will be by his side during the recovery, right?

Posted on av swmoddy

Waking slowly, Din kept his breathing soft and his mind steady as his body started feeding him input of what was going on. It was a technique he had developed while hunting. Panicking helped no one, least of all oneself if you were alone in a volatile situation. Therefore, Din had forced his mind to cope with the situation, so he could later, when he was safe, scream and cry about it.

His body ached but it was a dull thudding ache along with muscle stiffness and the smell of sickly sweetness hung in the air, the kind that came from overripe fruits, lingered in his nose with an undercurrent of sterile chemicals only used one place.

A medical facility.

That meant Din was safe, or at the very least somewhere that didn’t wish him harm.

There was a squeeze of his right hand and Din felt his entire being relax with the certainty of safety, because he recognized the scarred, callused hand wrapped around his.

Boba, his Boba.

Opening his sore eyes slowly, noting that his left eye felt sore, Din tilted his head to look, meeting the relieved amber ones of Boba as the man tightened his grasp on Din’s hand. For a long moment, they just stared at each other and then Boba leaned in, pressing their foreheads together as Boba let out a shuddering breath, the lack of armor making it easier for the two to press in close to each other. “Din… Din.” He whispered, voice thick, as if he didn’t know what else to say other than to repeat Din’s name.

Not that Din minded. He liked it when Boba said his name, so few had used his name before and having Boba say it… It brought him warmth.

Squeezing the others hand, Din let out a low, raspy noise. The sound had Boba twitching and then he shifted, holding onto Din’s hand and honestly, Din was grateful. The other leaning away gave Din a moment to glance about.

This was clearly a medbay, the room was sterile but instead of utterly polished white, it had a more snow like color, giving the walls a tint of blue. It was soothing and Din found himself relaxing more at the sight.

There were no windows. The only light was the fixtures above them, but that was understandable if they were back in the palace. Leaving the medbay with windows could let in grains that were the last thing a medic would want. Sand was a contaminant that could get into injuries, samples or medical liquids.Din knew that sand could ruin bacta and lead to infection. Sand-spoiled bacta sealed the sand inside the wound. The body reacted to the foreign contaminant as it was ‘programmed’ to do, attacking newly healing wounds which also house small invaders. Everything could become necrotic far too fast after that.

To the north of the room, Din could spot four doors. Squinting at them, he suspected that one was a fresher and hopefully a shower was in there, unless Boba took Din back to their room. Another door, he suspected, was the office of the medic, though he couldn’t parse out what the last two doors might lead to.

A surgery room?

A medical storage room for equipment?

Maybe a room for cleaning equipment that the medic had set up.

The medic…

Russal, the zabrak, wide red eyes and yellow skin with black tattoos practically absorbing the sun from the window above Din.

The memory was faint and Din swallowed thickly as he tried to push the memory away.

He didn’t want to think about it as he instead looked to the south of the room where there was a third door. This one Din suspected would lead out into the rest of the palace and faintly, Din wondered where in the palace these medical spaces had been set up.

Boba’s hand tightened on his and Din focused back on the other, letting out a happy noise when he saw the cup with a small spout on it. He quickly raised his head from the pillow he was laying on. A small smile crossed Boba’s lips and he set the spout to Din’s cracked lips, carefully pouring in a small amount of water, waiting for Din to swallow and then repeating until the cup was empty.

Shockingly, the water was cold.

Or maybe it just felt cold to Din. Because Din knew that the thin, white sheet with faint pink tinge covering him must be stiff and the mattress beneath him hard, but after the days he had, it all felt lovely to him.

With the thought of the last few days however, Din was reminded of his hand and dropped his head back against the pillow to tilt it, looking at his left hand.

He paused when he saw the pinkish orb locked around his hand as it rested along his side, staring at the gel like substance wrapped around his hand, a hand that had all five fingers with an IV attached through the gel to the top of his hand, leading to a bag hanging on a pole.

Confused, Din turned his head to Boba, eyes as wide as he could get them at the moment, full of questions. “Russal attached your fingers,” Boba stated, seeing what had Din so confused. “He said that your fingers might not be as functional as before, though physical therapy would help you recover somewhat.” He continued more quietly.

Nodding slowly with understanding, letting his mind mull over that information, Din slowly looked back to his hand. From what he could see, his hand looked undamaged, he couldn’t even see a scar through the gel where he knew they had been severed.

“…Can you move them?” Boba queried quietly, his grip tight on Din’s other hand.

Licking his still chapped lips, Din brow furrowed as he focused on his hand, thumb, index and middle finger easily pulling in towards his palm. The ring finger followed, slower but still moved by Din’s muscles.

The pinkie finger however he could tell was barely responding to Din’s decision to make a fist, was simply pulling along due to the tendons in his hands. That had been the first finger to go and it made sense that it was worse off.

Resting his fingertips against his palm, Din let out a shaky breath, feeling his hand throb inside the gel orb before he slowly straightened his fingers out once more. He couldn’t quite straighten his pinkie however and Din sighed deeply as he looked to Boba.

The other looked thrilled, having watched closely. “That’s… that’s better than Russal suspected. He stated that you might not be able to move either.” He breathed out heavily and looking closely, Din saw how tired the other man.

“…Have you slept at all?” He whispered shakily, grunting when Boba grimaced heavily.

Tugging at the others hand, Din gave him a pleading look. “Din… love…” Boba weakly protested, glancing to what Din had suspected was the office.

Clearly the other was thinking he had to inform the medic that Din was awake.

“Please… we can… can deal with everything in the morning,” Din pleaded, tugging again. When Boba wavered, Din spoke again. “I just want you to hold me… make me feel safe.” He wished his voice didn’t sound as broken.

Instantly Boba’s scarred face softened and he shifted, reaching down.  If he was honest, it took Din an embarrassingly long moment to realize the other was removing his boots. But finally, finally Boba crawled onto the narrow medical bed, carefully shifting Din around until they were curled up on their sides and into each other, Din’s head settled under Boba’s chin and against his cloth covered chest and his healing hand suited onto Boba’s hip for support.

The warmth of the others body was a godsend and Din sniffled quietly as Boba’s hands slowly rubbed his back.

Boba didn’t smell good, the scent of souring sweat hung on him, but Din couldn’t bring himself to care a lick about it. He was sure he didn’t smell any better after all those days in captivity, unless someone had given him a sponge bath.

And by the feel of his own hair as Boba’s hand came up to stroke it for a few moments, Din highly doubted that.

He must be so gross, but he was still so tired and he didn’t want to move from Boba’s body or grasp. “You’re safe, you’re here. I have you, I have you Din. I have you love, my sweetheart. I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again.” Boba whispered, his voice a tad frantic, as if he was assuring himself as much as Din.

But Boba was right.

He was safe, he was home and in Boba’s arms and that was all he had wanted those lonely days abducted by those that wanted to force Boba to give them things.

“I know…” Din agreed in a quiet rasp, nuzzling slowly. “I’m in your arms after all, my Boba, my buir’ika.” He smiled shakily, Boba’s arms tightening around his body at the words.

Safe.

Oh no, I was wondering about the missing spaces in your posts, but I was hesitant to ask because I thought that maybe you have OCD lol. I always have to leave some letters in my writing out and later force myself to add them. I’m glad you don’t struggle with that 😊

Posted on av swmoddy

Lol, no thank you though for asking nicely and being respectful about it. There’s been… well quite a few messages about it and not all of them has been as nice.

I don’t mind explaining but getting told to ‘fucking use the spacebar’ and other such things can be a bit… iffy heh.

sorry if u get this twice i think my other one didn’t go through. can we see some more trans obi? i’m a trans guy and i rly like seeing good trans representation. can we see some of his padawan years like how does qui gon react? love ur work! ❤️

Posted on av swmoddy

So I would love to write this, I mean, I’ve written at least two with trans Obi.

But I’m not sure I have enough information to treat Obi-Wan transitioning properly with understanding. I mean, if I had a better understanding I could write maybe but when I say I live rurally, I mean that. So its subjects that aren’t as open around here, despite having a trans lady locally, nice woman, I see her in the store some days.

But yeah, I’m not sure I have enough or the right information to treat this subject with the respect it should?

Other sensitive subjects I write, I can generally make my way from my own issues and how to treat them, so yeah, I feel like I should have more information and a better understanding before I write more. I only know a little about binding, how wrongly binding can be dangerous and a little bit about hormone therapy, and that doesn’t feel enough to write with.

Ps: I know I can look up stuff online but there are things I wouldn’t think about that’s important with transitoning or even things that a study might not mention.

Drink too many: how will they spoil Din? What will they be getting for him? I really wanna know what happens next! Your stories are great!

Posted on av swmoddy

Looking around the stalls, Paz contemplated just how many weapon stalls there were.

It was a bit funny, it hadn’t started that way.

When the houses and marketplace had started popping up, the majority of it all had been food related, a cobbler that also worked as cordwainer, a medical stall, jewelry stall, two that had sweets and baked goods and one weapon one.

Now there were so much more, at least five that Paz could count just by turning his head around and he knew that a few of the other stalls also carried weapons, the medical and jewelry he knew also had blades that could be turned into weapons.

The reason for the growth?

Mandalorians.

Din still had the darksaber and Boba Fett’s name had a legend to it.

To hear that the man had taken over Jabba the hutt’s palace, had taken over as King, drew curiosity. And to know there was a potential Mand’alor that had won the darksaber in battle… well, it was a focal point.

It drew mandalorians, hopeful ones, to see if Din Djarin was a worthy Mand’alor, to see if maybe this one could galvanize and gather their scattered people, take back their planets and old territories and send the remaining Imps packing.

The New Republic had yet to reach that far out.

Paz wasn’t sure what Din wanted to do about it honestly, he knew that Din had never wanted the saber when he had taken it off the moff, had even offered it to Kryze.

She had refused.

At least there was some honor to the woman, not that Paz thought he’d ever like her, he was all to aware of the past of the Death Watch, of where Pre Vizla had taken it. His father, a relative of Pre Vizla, had bitterly told Paz about what had happened, how Pre Vizla had been involved in the scheme that got Satine Kryze killed.

Which had lead to the civil war of Mandalore, the internal conflict making them easy pickings for the Empire.

Paz had suspected that his father was a brother of Pre Vizla, with how much he knew, but his father had never admitted to it, the shame in the hunched shoulders of his father obvious as Paz mother gently kneaded his shoulders with her large hands, crooning softly at her omega.

And that always kept Paz from asking.

He knew the history of Pre Vizla and that was enough.

Frankly, Bo-Katan Kryze made Paz teeth ache, from what Din had told him, it didn’t sound like the woman had changed much from those days.

She seemed to be a good leader for a smaller group, a battle experienced alor Paz had parsed out from the story but the idea of her ruling an entire planet, a planet of warriors that easily stepped on each others feet and lead to fights…

No, Kryze behavior made Paz think that the other alpha would not make a good Mand’alor. A Mand’alor was meant to unite and a ruler was meant to rule wisely.

That didn’t mean rulers didn’t make mistakes of course but Kryze’s mistakes…

They had come with a civil war and if Paz was honest, it had always bugged him the way his father had spoken about Bo-Katan turning on her sister and joining a group that would have happily murdered the Duchess.

He knew the clans of old did that but to join a group that would have murdered a pacifist in cold blood… it didn’t stick right with Paz, it felt too close to murdering someone weaponless.

His father had laughed when Paz had stated that, muttering something about, ‘yeah right, weaponless… Satine Kryze would have bit off the heads of people if she could.’ but Paz wasn’t sure and didn’t quite understand what his father meant.

Satine Kryze had been a pacifist, right?

Shaking himself a bit from the thoughts, Paz looked around one more time, taking in how there were now several hot food stalls, even more sweets stalls, clothes ones, amenities like soaps and oils, weapons and so many others as people made their homes around the palace.

Hell, there was even a cantina starting up, a shipyard and an inn for offworlders to rent rooms.

The market and surrounding town had really grown and the growth of it made Paz feel oddly proud.

The shift of a familiar scent brought Paz out of his head and he focused to his side as he watched Din, smiling goofily to himself as the man ran his bare hands slowly over the royal blue nesting blanket he had found at the stand they had stopped at.

The orange tipped gloves had been stashed in his belt and Paz could tell by the way Din reverently ran his hands over the fabric that he really liked it.

He’d never buy it for himself.

“You have more like this one?” Paz questioned the nikto manning the stall, the woman smiling slightly at him as she nodded. Din had stilled beside him, his helmet tilted to look up at Paz, his scent changing to an embarrassed one when he realized Paz had caught onto his like for the fabric.

“Yes sir, I have three in the same shade and length as these, but I have to warn you, that its dramassian shimmersilk, its very expensive.” She stated, rubbing her hands together a bit nervously as she eyed the two mandalorians.

Paz could feel his brows raise in surprise inside his helmet, ignoring her nerves. He knew why she was nervous, just last week Boba had to shut down two mandalorians that got into a scuffle with the marketplace, trying to intimidate the owners into paying protection fees.

Boba would have nothing of that on his planet and Paz had been ashamed of the two mandalorians trying to rig it all.

But honestly, this was a surprise even if his helmet hid his reaction. Dramassian shimmersilk was extremely soft and smooth and Dramassia had only recently started exporting it again, now that the Empire could no longer tax them to hell and back.

That also made it an expensive thing to buy and sell.

But Din’s reverent touch made sense now.

The silk would make for gorgeous nesting material, soft and gentle against skin, especially during pre-heat and heat when his skin was already sensitive and he was uncomfortable.

Pulling out the credit chip Boba had given him, Paz waved his hand. “We’ll take all if them, what’s your price?” He rumbled at the beta, pausing when a hand wrapped around his wrist.

He tilted his head to Din, visor meeting visor. “Paz, no. I have enough blankets. The palace has so many.” Din weakly protested. Paz could imagine the flush on those dark cheeks and Din’s shifty eyes from the tone alone.

Smirking slightly, Paz leaned down enough to tap their foreheads together, feeling Din still at the public affection, chaste as it was. “But you like these ones. So you’ll have these riduur,” He rumbled, tone gently coaxing as he shifted enough to fully face Din, wrapping his arm around the others waist to squeeze him closer with a click of their armors. “You can’t stop me, I’ll buy them anyhow and take them with me home. They’ll be mine then.” He singsonged teasingly to his omega.

Din let out a low noise before sighing deeply, realizing that Paz would not be stopped. “…Fine, but um, you’ll let me do something nice for you later then.” He grumbled, as if he was driving a hard bargain, his omega reaching up to gently rub his wrist glands against Paz neck

Crooning happily at the action, Paz gave the others trim waist another squeeze. “Deal, I’d love a shoulder rub later at home.” He rumbled, straightening slowly as Din visibly perked up at his words. A warm glow settled low in Paz chest at the sight, the alpha turning back to the stall owner to haggle for the soft fabrics.

Boba would be ever so pleased with this buy in for Din, Paz just knew it.