Anonymous

Oh, the kyber little shots one, maybe learn about when Obi-Wan’s freckles started to glow? Because we know they didn’t glow as a child, so I’m really curious.

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His padawan is a special child.

Qui-Gon is one of the few people in the temple that is aware just how special Obi-Wan truly is and he will do anything in his power to ensure that no one outside those already aware learn just how unique he is.

Of course, teaching a teenager emotional control wasn’t exactly the easiest, their brains swimming in hormones and impulses but Obi-Wan did his best. Qui-Gon was actually rather proud of how put together his padawan was, he was after all just turning sixteen this year.

For those instances where he couldn’t keep his tears at bay, Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both carried special pouches to store the kyber tears, to hide them from view both visually and in the Force. Accidents happened and Qui-Gon wasn’t about to scold his boy when tears were natural.

Of course, just because he thinks he’s prepared for everything he thinks a Star Child’s biology will throw at him…

Well, a wrench is thrown into all of Qui-Gon’s planning one morning.

It starts out as normal, that’s what’s so mystifying, no warning at all for what is to come.

Its an utterly normal, slightly gray morning, rain falling on Coruscant as Qui-Gon quietly enjoys a cup of tea while waiting for his padawan to wake, letting the boy sleep in a bit.

Its the weekend, so no lessons have been scheduled and Qui-Gon has already decided that Obi-Wan can get the day of, so he has no need to get his padawan out of bed in a hurry and send him of with breakfast and some morning meditation today.

He needs some decompression time, to explore his own interests and maybe see his friends if he wishes.

With his grades, Obi-Wan more than deserved the time off and Qui-Gon has no complaints about the boy’s meditation and saber practice. He’s well within the acceptable range of a normal padawan at his age.

Which is why he gets his own shock when Obi-Wan’s emotions suddenly spills across their bond in a mix of fear and shock, Qui-Gon rising quickly with his cup still in his hand, hot liquid spilling over his hand as a loud squeak suddenly comes from the others bedroom.

Hissing, he quickly set it down on the table, wondering what had woken his padawan so sharply, Qui-Gon’s own heart in his throat as he makes his way towards Obi-Wan’s bedroom quickly.

Before he could reach it though, Obi-Wan’s door slips open, his wide eyed padawan standing with his hanging over his shoulder and his clothes rumpled from sleep.

Not that Qui-Gon notices that.

No, he’s too busy staring at Obi-Wan, his mouth hanging open unattractively as he stares at a collection of stars across Obi-Wan’s face along with the others eyes glowing ever so faintly.

The latter he might not have noticed if he wasn’t so used to Obi-Wan, but he is very familiar with the his padawan’s eyes and he sees the new glow they now carry.

But his face is what has Qui-Gon’s attention most firmly and it takes him a full minute before he recognizes that the ‘stars’ are freckles.

Obi-Wan’s freckles have turned into a pathway of glowing lights, dotting his face. “Oh Force, Obi-Wan, what…” He rasped, stepping closer to cup the others face.

“I don’t know master, I woke up and… they’re on my hands too.” Obi-Wan held his hands up, distressed and shaking, eyes watering slightly with his emotions as his lips quivering with emotions.

Rubbing at one of the freckles on the boy’s cheek with his thumb, Qui-Gon bit his bottom lip. If he was to take a guess, he’d imagine all of Obi-Wan’s freckles had now turned into an array of stars.

He had no doubt that this was related to the others biology, to being a star child. “…We’re going to the healers, go fetch your robe with the large hood. If we go quickly, most of the temple will be asleep still,” He stated slowly. “Quickly now, I’ll comm Vokara Che and have her ready.” Qui-Gon murmured soothingly, trying to ease the others fear.

There were only a few healers allowed to treat Obi-Wan, due to his unique nature and Qui-Gon would admit, he preferred Vokara Che, the younger woman was a stern but good healer.

Stroking the others cheeks with his thumbs to comfort, Qui-Gon gently squeezed to get the others attention. “We’ll deal with this Obi-Wan, trust me.” He murmured a tad sternly.

Thankfully, those words had the intended effect, he could feel Obi-Wan slump slightly into his grasp, nodding. “I do master. I do.” He sniffled slightly, reaching out and hugging his master around the middle.

Breathing out, Qui-Gon ran his hand over the soft bristle of Obi-Wan’s hair.

He wasn’t sure he could help but hopefully, the healers would have an idea. ‘Thank the Force he still trusts me…’ Qui-Gon hugged the boy tightly to him for a few seconds before pushing him back and into his room, summoning his own comms to call, worry and resignation weighing heavily on him.

The initation of a prank war, Anakin started it but Obi-Wan brings out the big guns.

Posted on av swmoddy

Admittedly, Obi-Wan had gotten the idea from a holonet video.

Holotube actually.

Now, normally he’d never, ever consider doing what he was about to do.

However, Anakin had started this little prank war by sharing Obi-Wan’s drunk singing and sobbing after Quinlan had convinced the redhead to come out drinking, Obi-Wan sporting only his shorts for some reason he could no longer remember.

Or well, that was the official story that Anakin got to hear, Obi-Wan might have indulged in a tiny bit of weed too but shhh, that was not for Anakin to know.

So when Cody, a tad uncomfortable and rubbing the back of his neck, told Obi-Wan that sex ed wasn’t so prevalent taught on Kamino by the longnecks and had quietly requested that Obi-Wan give a basic lesson for both the 212th and the 501st, particularly for the older generations since the youngers were being taught by more concerned members…

Well, Obi-Wan had seen an opportunity and he had taken it.

Of course, hearing about the sex ed, Anakin had come slinking like a great hound, anticipating some humiliation on his old master and Ahsoka had tagged along, pretending like she was just bored.

Obi-Wan could tell she was curious though, his heart went out to her.

She missed a lot of lessons due to the war, being out of the temple. They tried to not let her miss too much but some things took priority and a sex ed lesson might have been pushed back.

Thankfully, this wasn’t the first time Obi-Wan had run sex ed lessons, despite what Anakin seemed to think, therefore he wasn’t getting the hilarity he had hoped.

Clapping his hands together, Obi-Wan gave all of them a benign smile. “Now, we’ve gone over male and female intercourse, male on male, female on female, lube and protections,” He chuckled softly as there were a few scattered, nervous laughs. “There is one more thing though, the STD’s.”

Obi-Wan picked up his little controller, gesturing to the board behind him and he noticed a bored Anakin leaning back against the wall, a good view of everything with Ahsoka beside him and troopers lining the chairs and tables in front of him.

Perfect.

Clicking the button, Obi-Wan fought not to cackle as Anakin choked on his own spit in shock.

Because on the diagram display was a well drawn image of Anakin, a tad cartoony of course as Obi-Wan had literally given Anakin what looked like a clown nose for glands on his cock. “Now, if you will direct your attention here,” He gestured to around the groin area of the image, ignoring how there were a loud choking noise from the back and choked coughs and laughs. “These are genitalia warts-” He didn’t get any further when Anakin seemed to collect himself.

“OBI-WAN!” He roared in outrage, making his way forward.

“Anakin, I’m having a lesson here!” Obi-Wan couldn’t help but smirk at him, as Anakin closed in on him. “I mean, its not like its a video of you singing a bawdy song and then sobbing about why snakes lack legs.” He drawled, watching Anakin freeze between Killer and Longshot.

The blue eyed blond stared at him in shock. “I-Is this revenge!?” He squeaked.

“Now, now Anakin, a Jedi does not seek revenge,” Obi-Wan smirk grew. “And I am after all the poster boy of Jedi as you like to say… now, as you all can see, this is genitalia worts, they can be very uncomfortable but are a curable STD to contract.” He continued.

From his peripherals, he noted Anakin slinking back to a giggling Ahsoka, his grandpadawan covering her mouth with her lekkus twitching heavily.

Around the room, the troopers were still struggling not to laugh, just as when Anakin shared the image of an almost undressed, siging and crying Obi-Wan.

Ah, vindication was sweet… but he also expected Anakin to retaliate and soon by the look in the others eyes.

Still, totally worth it.

Severed stomach: Don’t let Din die! D8

Posted on av swmoddy

They almost shoot each other, standing there in the shadows of Din’s ship.

That is something neither Boba or Paz will tell Din though, but they almost end up shooting each other as both are paranoid bastards and they’re both concerned.

To be fair, they are both answering different emergency signals, both are unaware of each other and both think the other might be the enemy that caused Din’s current situation.

Thankfully, outside of a warning shot from Fennec at Paz feet, nothing too bad happened… except wasted time.

Time they might not have, especially not with how long it took for them all to get to the planet, the lack of response from inside the ship highly worrying.

“I got the codes to get it open,” Boba grumbled as he made his way past the big shabuir in blue, already typing into his vambrace, his eyes focused on the ship he loaned Din, knowing Fennec had his back. “Din never changed them when he took possession of the ship.” He stated, knowing from the monitor program installed that Din hadn’t.

Paz, his cannon reluctantly shelved for now, nodded slowly. “Sounds like the verd’ika. As long as it wasn’t his personal room, he never bothered to changing codes to anything.” He sighed a bit, shaking his head.

You’d think Din knew better, ensuring his own privacy to rooms only he should have access to.

The ramp thankfully lowered, Boba correct that the codes were the same.

Instantly, all three tensed as the ramp finally extended into the muddy ground.

It was covered in rusty colored blood, dried blood.

Din’s blood.

Hissing slightly, his vocoder crackling, Boba marched up the ramp as quickly as his feet could take him, Paz right behind him with Fennec remaining outside to keep guard just in case. She wasn’t a medical expert, she wouldn’t be much help anyhow.

Following the blood, both males made their way inside, moving through the ships towards the cockpit.

Sending a mental prayer, Boba slapped his hands over the door controller, listening to the hiss as it opened to admit the two.

Instantly, Boba’s eyes fell on Din, the other collapsed into the pilot chair and he felt his breath catch.

Behind him, Paz let out a curse, moving past a frozen Boba.

Din looked dead.

His shiny beskar was covered in dried, rusty blood, Din’s blood, shrapnel was sticking out of his side, his arms and his legs. Din was slumped in the chair, his body lose with what Boba hoped was unconsciousness and he couldn’t see the others chest rise and fall.

Boba couldn’t look away from him even as he knows he should move and check on the other, find the medical kit, do SOMETHING.

But he can’t, his attention is on Din and Din alone.

His eyes roam over the way Din is slumped in the chair like a discarded ragdoll, abandoned by a child done playing rough. Can’t look away from the sight of the shrapnel embedded into the others left side, the warped metal as wide as Din’s hand and as long as his arm and Boba can’t tell how much of the blackened metal is inside of the other, how much damage has been done to the other.

Finally however, he manages to force himself forward as Paz yanked his own glove off and pressed his fingers under the helmet to get his pulse, Boba made himself breath as he reached up into the overhead compartment to the left, knowing there should be a medical kit there.

There was, it was fully stocked even from the looks of, the seal unopened.

“He’s alive but barely breathing, his pulse is too slow,” Paz growled out, Boba coming over with the case. “I don’t… I don’t know if we can move him.” He tacked on, deep voice sounding uncertain.

But alive meant there was still a chance.

Opening the case with a small growl, Boba dug through the case. “We can’t remove the shrapnel, he will bleed out in moments,” He agreed, listening to the shifting of armor. “But we can move him if we do this.” He pulled out a bacta injector.

Both stared at it.

The risk of injecting bacta into Din when he had shrapnel inside of him was high, many people suffered permanent organ damage from bacta injections before with shrapnel smaller than what was inside Din.

But they had no other choice and Boba reached out, pushing Din’s head to the side to pull down the high neck of his shirt. ‘If this causes anything permanent, forgive me Din. But I’d rather have you alive.’ He thought grimly as he set it, ordering Paz to find them a stretcher.

Moving Din was taxing, both Boba and Paz hesitating with precious moments while staring at the largest piece of shrapnel and both flinched when they heard an exhalation from Din as he was moved.

It hurt obviously, but Din was too far gone to wake up even with the stimuli.

Thankfully, the hoverstretcher made things easier on them, moving Din to Slave 1 and into the medbay, where Fennec stood watch over their injured bounty hunter as Boba attached him to monitoring equipment with Paz hovering at his shoulder.  “…We’re going have to be quick, return to Tatooine as fast as we can. He’s going to become infected by the shrapnel soon enough and it will turn his flesh necrotic.” Boba murmured as he removed Din’s bloody gloves.

His stomach twisted a bit with how stiff with blood they were, how much of Din’s blood must truly be soaked into it.

“I’ll go fetch my stuff, I don’t know the other ship, so Din’s things…” Paz trailed off.

“I’ll do it, I know where everything is. Din didn’t personalize the ship much but I know where his quarters on it are,” Boba grunted before turning to Fennec. “Remove his armor in the meantime, chest, greaves, vambraces but leave the helmet as usually.” He stated sternly, half noting the tenseness of the other mandalorian easing.

Ugh, the Watch and their helmets, made medical care difficult.

Fennec, normally being one for a sarcastic quip, simply nodded, her face drawn tight as she stepped in to work the chest piece off first.

He turned to Paz. “Ten minutes, and I take off. Tayli’bac?” He stated sternly, receiving a quick nod. ‘Just hold on for us Din, just a little longer…’

Shabuir = Asshole

Verd’ika = Little soldier

Tayli’bac? = Got it? Okay? Understand? (Often very aggressive.)

What is happening in AWOL jedi?

Posted on av swmoddy

Carefully picking up the blond haired baby, Rex let out a small coo and grinned happily as he bounced the giggling bundle, glancing over when Anakin repeated the action with his daughter.

Becoming a father, as exhausting as it was, had done the other man well.

There was a peace in the other man’s eyes that had never been there during the war, even during down times.

Though then again, they had been in war, being tranquil had never really been something people felt easy.

To relax or feel comfortable.

Just brief, stolen moments.

With a child pressed to your chest, you couldn’t help but modulate yourself, relax, feel your breath fall into an even state as your heart settled calmly.

There was also the responsibility of having someone that was totally reliant on you for even the most basic of things, to eat, clean yourself and even hold their heads that had a way of making you grow.

Feeling the gaze, Anakin looked at his former captain and smiled slightly, a tad shyly. “What? Is there something on my face?” He questioned quietly as he tucked Leia into his neck.

Shaking his head, smiling slightly in return, Rex opened his mouth to answer only for both to jump around when the door slammed open, Rex automatically reaching for a blaster he wasn’t wearing.

Thankfully, since it was only Obi-Wan, his eyes wide and excited with a big smile on his face. “Anakin! Anakin look what I found!” He held up an odd, blue plant growth.

His fellow blond quirked both his eyebrows, his shy smile turning bemused but wider, Obi-Wan’s clear excitement infectious. “A plant?” He guessed. “A very nice blue plant?” Anakin tacked on when Obi-Wan’s lips turned that familiar not pout twist.

“Its a form for citrus,” Obi-Wan squirmed a bit, his smile still wide despite the not-pout twist of his lips. “Similar to lemon but blue.” He beamed, wiggling excitedly even as the two blonds froze slightly.

Rex automatically accepted Leia when the other handed her over, settling her against the opposite shoulder to Luke. “Oh really,” Anakin said, purposely keeping his voice light. “Found today?” He cleared his throat.

“Mmhmm, I found it, an entire orchid of wild grown. I wonder if it can be peeled…” Obi-Wan was studying the fruit with his eyes, missing Rex and Anakin’s horrified expression exchange.

“You are not putting that in your tea until its been examined Obi-Wan.” Anakin stated strongly, taking a step towards his old master.

The redhead bounced back a step, moving further away. “Its just a piece of fruit Anakin, I’m sure its harmless.” He huffed, coloring a bit at the dubious look the other two exchanged.

“You mean like the poisoned grain we found last week?” Rex questioned a tad dryly, remembering Cody groaning into his shoulder about his General eating poisoned grain.

“Or that rabbit creature you found, whose fur could shift into razor like spikes while you were petting it?” Anakin tacked on just as quickly. “You are not testing that thing yourself, regardless how much you miss lemon in your teas, don’t test me Obi-Wan, I will tell Cody.” Anakin said sternly.

Cradling the blue citrus to his chest, slowly looking between the two blonds, Obi-Wan seemed to be considering his options.

Then he stuck out his tongue at them, much to Rex surprise. “You can’t stop me!” The man raced right out with Anakin on his tail.

Clearly he had expected this to happen, as he had given Leia over to Rex, the captain juggling two twins in his arms. “Obi-Wan get back here! Master Gallia! Stop him! He has an unknown and untested fruit! SOMEONE CALL CODY!” The commotion echoed across the building town.

Slowly, Rex looked between the two twins, getting sleepy blinks from both of them. “…Guess you two are with me for the time being,” He stated, a tad amused but mostly worried, glancing after the other two males. “…Lets hope your uncle doesn’t poison himself… again.” He sighed, resigning himself to calling Cody.

Di’kut Jedi.

More sensitivetorejection plzzzz (more fluff teehee)

Posted on av swmoddy

Bowing his head in thanks to the medic, Qui-Gon watched the woman leave before turning his attention back to his padawan, carefully drawing the other’s left hand into his to have a point of physical contact, the other equipped with an IV line still.

He tried not to wince at the sight of his too small padawan in a large, sterile bed, the other looking far too much like a broken doll than a human at that moment for Qui-Gon’s comfort.

Obi-Wan had unfortunately suffered a few broken ribs due to the debris being blown around, some blood loss and he had a head wound filled with shrapnel, it had caused the medics to shave the left side of Obi-Wan’s head.

It left his poor padawan looking quite odd, copper hair on one side and nothing on the other side.

If it wasn’t for the sickly paleness of his skin and the swollen state of his eyes, one could mistake it for an odd hair cutting accident or a youngling cutting their own hair.

Qui-Gon wasn’t unfamiliar to children cutting their own hair unfortunately.

But coupled with the eyes and his skin, Obi-Wan looked the state of the victim he was.

But he was alive.

Qui-Gon knew that a few people had not survived the trauma of the shop exploding.

From the gossip he heard in the hall, it had been some sort of food place, a gas container had apparently been the cause of this entire disaster.

An accident.

Squeezing his padawan’s hand, Qui-Gon let out a deep sigh and looked to the wall with a small frown on his face.

He could imagine why Obi-Wan had stopped, he was quite aware that his padawan was part of the unifying Force. A little glimpse into the future, a little vision slipping past his eyes…

Qui-Gon didn’t like visions and precognition, exactly for the reason Obi-Wan was now laid out in bed and injured.

It didn’t always help and sometimes could be outright damaging.

There would have been next to nothing they could have done about the exploding shop and if they had continued walking, Obi-Wan might not have gotten as hurt as he did.

Normally, he would have told Obi-Wan to focus on the now.

Normally.

But Obi-Wan wasn’t normal.

His ADHD made what was a gentle guidance seem so much worse, Obi-Wan could take Qui-Gon’s gentle direction to try and focus on the now as a rejection of Obi-Wan’s very nature and that…

That could not come to pass.

Teens that felt rejected felt the need to hide and lie, Qui-Gon could not have that, not with Obi-Wan.

His condition made it imperative that he trusted Qui-Gon, should something go wrong, he must feel that he could at the very least go to Qui-Gon, so they could work out what was going on.

Yoda was skilled with precognition but he was also old and as much as Qui-Gon loved his grandmaster, the prospect of sending Obi-Wan to Yoda, who could be rigid and unbending about his own ways was setting of warning signals in Qui-Gon’s head.

Obi-Wan’s condition meant he needed a gentler hand.

Someone used to being careful but was also aware of precognition enough to teach.

Rubbing Obi-Wan’s hand, Qui-Gon frowned deeply before sighing and glancing at the dimmed sun filtering in through the window. “…Guess I’ll be sending Yan a message.” He mused a tad darkly to himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t still care for his old master but he and Yan…

Well, they were very different people and the last stages of Qui-Gon’s apprenticeship had been a tad fraught.

But, Yan knew how to be careful, of that Qui-Gon was sure.

A man that while not outright cared for younglings, could cradle them carefully and sooth someone in need of it. And Yan was also part of the unifying Force.

If supplied with the correct information on Obi-Wan’s condition, Yan would potentially be the best choice.

‘If only to stop something like this from happening again.’ Qui-Gon reached up with his free hand and gently stroked Obi-Wan’s pale cheek, smiling sadly down at his padawan.

if you’re still doing distant pain, could we see more stories from obi-wan’s black ops missions/obi-wan being completely reckless and how the clones react to that? maybe some angst from obi-wan worrying he’s not enough for others after qui gon gave him up?? you’re an amazing writer!!!

Posted on av swmoddy

Gingerly taking a step while holding onto Dogma’s arm, Obi-Wan let out a low groan as it pulled on tender healed skin as his foggy head finally started pushing blood in the right directions. “Shitty titty… blasted naked besalisk, fucking six titted-aaaah.” He grumbled deeply and paused, ignoring both Rex and Cody giving him bemused look and Dogma’s vaguely horrified one.

Zuru was just too used to his General’s behavior to take notice of the cursing and the rather… uniqueness of it. Which was why he was just sitting cross legged on Obi-Wan’s bed, watching closely as Obi-Wan tryingly started walking around after hanging upside down.

“Next time I see Dooku, I’m shoving my lightsaber up his arse.” Obi-Wan growled before carefully pulling away from Dogma’s arm and moving on his own, breathing out heavily as it still made his head feel a bit faint.

But he felt better as he moved, healing skin stretching nicely after the bacta had healed it even if it was sore along with his head.

“Where in galaxy have you seen six tits?” Rex couldn’t finally help but ask, scratching at his blond fuzz.

“Ever seen a naked jawa?” Obi-Wan bounced back, moving between the beds with stronger and stronger steps, ignoring how the rest of the tent paused at the reply.

Dogma gained a more obviously horrified look, echoed by both Rex and Cody, Helix squinting thoughtfully at the ceiling of the tent.

“Okay, hold up, you’ve seen a naked Jawa?” Zuru blinked at him. No one saw a naked jawa, they didn’t undress in front of outsiders from what people could tell and they got really territorial and angry if you tried to pull their hoods down.

“More like stripped it, I had to find my lightsaber somehow, little weasel thought I didn’t notice he stole it.” Obi-Wan grumbled as he paused and carefully stretched. All the bed laying and coddling had left him feeling stiff but thankfully the medics were willing to let him up now.

He ignored the disturbed and shocked looks of the troopers around him as he continued lightly stretching.

People didn’t just undress jawas after all but that was what Obi-Wan had been required to do, to get his lightsaber back.

Finally finished stretching, Obi-Wan turned and gave Zuru an expectant look.

The pilot, attuned as he was to Obi-Wan’s behavior, simply shook his head and threw him a black pouch.

Grinning happily, Obi-Wan made his way over to the mirror, set the black pouch onto the closest surface and fished out a tube of hair mousse from his products.

Quietly, most of the troopers watched Obi-Wan rub the hair product between his hands and run it through his hair, working it up into the faux mohawk he normally sported. “To be fair, I couldn’t have the little bastard open the case, if it found out I had a lightsaber, I’d either have to do some fast talking to convince the mandalorians I was with that I killed a Jedi or flee, compromising my mission.” He drawled slightly.

Perking up, Cody tilted his head. “Mandalorians? You worked with some?” He asked curiously, a tad hopefully. Obi-Wan had come to learn that a lot of the vode liked to assimilate mandalorian culture into their own.

Not really a shock, their progenitor was after all one, had hired many mandalorian teachers that taught the initial troopers and those later on had taught their own brothers.

The blood of true Mandalore flowed through the clones, regardless what kind of complicated view the other mandalorians had on them.

“Spied on them,” Obi-Wan corrected easily, not letting his thoughts escape, tilting his head back and forth before reaching into the bag again for a can of spray. “Death Watch, they’re officially listed as terrorists organization, even by the Republic despite staying on Mandalore most of the time but most consider them a ‘bygone’ threat.” Obi-Wan’s lips pulled into a sneer, alerting everyone what he thought of that decision.

“So you were spying on them to…what?” Rex questioned curiously.

“Correction, I was fucking the leader for information,” Obi-Wan smirked to himself, ignoring the aghast expressions in the mirror. Pre Vizla had been an easy mark for him and chatty once in bed. “To be fair, flash a bit of stewjoni blood at a true mandalorian and they kinda lose their mind, tack in the fact that I could fight and am decently attractive, especially back at twenty five, piece of cake infiltration really.” He chuckled quietly.

Before someone could respond to that, another person spoke up, clearly horrified. “Did the council send you on honeypot missions after you left me?” A strangled voice from the front of the tent question and Obi-Wan paused, turning his head to look at Qui-Gon.

He narrowed his eyes faintly before shrugging. “We do ours for the cause, Deatch Watch leader is a man of convictions with little morals and I knew my duty. Getting him to talk was difficult. So yes.” He turned back, spraying his hair so it would hold the mohawk shape.

Was he proud of that part of his missions repertoire?

No. Had it been necessary to get Pre Vizla talking?

Yes.

Obi-Wan knew that his information had at least helped keep Death Watch from abducting more children and kept them from infiltrating offices of the New Mandalorian government.

Even if Satine refused to listen to sense.

His lip curled a bit as he thought of his old flame before firmly snuffing the thought. If she wanted to suppress everything that made a Mandalorian into a Mando or exile those that didn’t listen, then fine, on her head be the cultural genocide.

She wanted to be the Senate’s little voice, she could stay there and rot for all he cared.

But Obi-Wan had washed his hands on all that, he had given her the information she’d need and what had she done with it?

Nothing.

‘It is times like this I very much wish Jango Fett had become Mand’alor, at least this travesty of a pale imitation culture wouldn’t exist. Nor would the black markets for traditional Mandalorian items.’ He mused to himself, ignoring Qui-Gon watching him with stricken eyes in the mirror.

The Reluctant Dimension Hopper is classed as safe because they have a long track record of never trying to leave and always obeying orders. Basically, they’re trusted to never be out of containment. Your Padme would be Euclid by default for being sentient and wanting to go home. Classes aren’t about danger, they’re about containment. As I can’t post links in an ask, check the «object-classes» page on the SCP wiki.

Posted on av swmoddy

… did you bother go checking the thing I wrote? I wrote she wanted to go home and therefore fully coperated with the SCP foundation to remove her ability so she COULD go home.

Fucking hell, throat jumpers.

I wrote the initial thing at a 3 am meltdown because of my chronic pain but yeah, sure, we are going to ignore that aren’t we and focus on how Padme wants to go home, lets not read the rest of the thing. (if you even bothered to read i)

Fucking hell, this is one of the reasons my writing has gone down since I started, people who are all too willing to piss on a comment without further inquiery or checking. 

image

Edit: You know, I can’t decide what annoys me the most? The fact that the throat jumpers seem to think I can’t find a justification at all, that an already existing safe SCP humanoid means there can’t be more of them or that they have to rain on my parade, AGAIN. Like, you’d think we’d have more problems in the scp community considering the copyright issue ongoing from Duskin.

Din survives an explosion but there is permanent consequences?

Posted on av swmoddy

Shuddering as he stumbled his way to the cockpit of his loaned ship, Din tried to keep steady even as his vision swam and the pain threatened to down him.

He had miscalculated his bounty, so desperate to not be brought and suffer the consequences for her actions in that she had opted to detonate her own ship than to let Din take her in.

His armor had thankfully taken the brunt of the shock wave and even the heat that had come at him, even as his head was rattled by the force of it all but unfortunately his armor had not taken everything.

Several pieces of durasteel had sunk into his body, some smaller pieces in his left thigh and arm where the armor did not cover.

But the worst of it was in his side, about the width of his hand and the length of his forearm, sticking out from where Din had clamped his hand to the area and Din could feel the shrapnel burn with every breath he took and every step he made, the piece of warped metal sticking out of his side burning as Din futilely tried to press keep himself awake with the pain alone despite loosing blood, hoping to Ka’ra that he wasn’t cutting himself open internally with each step.

He didn’t dare try remove anything though, even as he wobbled with pain all the way to the ship Boba had loaned him.

His feet scruffing over the durasteel of the ramp as he made his way up, Din could only imagine the blood that would pour out if he tried. Removing it faced the risk of bleeding out for sure compared to the blood he had already lost, his supplies weren’t that waste and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to actually do enough for himself to ensure he survived.

Din had only one option, to activate the encrypted distress signals he had loaded up into the ship’s mainframe.

Well, one of them had been uploaded for him by Boba Fett honestly, the man scowling up at him as he told him that if Din was in problem, he was to activate the distress signal and Fett would aid him. Din half suspected that the signal would also activate if the ship wasn’t moved in too long but he hadn’t asked the other bounty hunter. He hadn’t wanted to question the man when he had been generous enough to lend Din a ship and gave him work, gave him purpose after Grogu went with the Jedi.

Din had been adrift, unsure and unmoored and Boba had been there to offer him work, work Din was familiar with on a planet he actually knew. Some might say that Tatooine was a dustball with nothing to show for it but Din enjoyed the warmth of it as long as he stayed out of the hottest part of the suns.

Shand also made for a decent drinking partner, the woman willing to sit there, listen and drink her alcohol as Din let himself empty out all the confusing and painful things left behind when Grogu was gone, never judging Din for doing what he thought was best even if she might not agree.

Honestly, Din wasn’t sure what kind of opinion she had on Jedi, he knew Boba at the very least disliked them if not outright hated them.

Din didn’t judge him for that, Boba had history, that much he knew and Boba’s past was his own thing. Din was in the other man’s debt, not only had he aided Din to rescue Grogu, he had also afterward given him purpose, equipped him and even loaned him a ship.

At this point, Din owed the man much more than he could ever really repay, even if the other bounty hunter and King of Tatooine had grumbled and told him that there was no debt before quickly changing the subject and lining up work for Din, work Din was more than happy to take pro bono.

The other, the one Din had uploaded, was the covert old distress signal.

It had been standard practice, the beroya was the breadwinner of the covert, the one to leave to bring in goods and credits.

But a single mandalorian against the galaxy… if the beroya ended up in problems they couldn’t solve on their own, the distress signal could be activated to summon backup or aid depending on what the emergency was.

Din wasn’t even sure if that particular distress signal would bring anyone to him, but he had to try.

He wasn’t sure how long he could survive with the shrapnel inside of him and Fett was on Tatooine with Shand in the palace, it was at least a four day trip, potentially five depending on the hyperlanes and if there was a planetary storm it could take another day before whatever rescue Fett sent to land.

If anyone from the covert was closer and responded to the signal…

Maybe, in the deep recesses of Din’s mind, he was also hopeful.

Hoping that someone had survived.

Sinking into the pilot chair with a cry of pain, feeling something shift inside of him, Din swallowed thickly and wrapped his arm more tightly around his side, dazedly looking at the dashboard for what felt like hours but must have been minutes, feeling unconsciousness threatening.

He couldn’t let that happen though, not yet, if he didn’t summon help first, he was going to die for sure if it wasn’t already too late.

Swallowing thickly again, Din pulled himself forward with a grunt as his gut felt like it was squishing around inside of him, shakily touching the controls and buttons.

He sent of two alerts and had mind enough to close down the ship and activate its defenses before he let himself sink back into the chair, hoping that one of the two signals would be answered.

The signals sent, Din let himself slowly but steadily sink into the darkness that is waiting on him ever since he got thrown across the muddy ground outside and had shrapnel embedded into his side. If he moves, he will make himself worse, especially in his shaky condition and therefore he has only one option now. To wait, wait and hope someone comes.

His last conscious thought is to send a prayer to the maker that someone will come for him. Because at this point, Din is quite thoroughly helpless as he slumps in the chair.

Din needs some comfort in Touch. Paz will help, right?

Posted on av swmoddy

The other’s body feels so small under him.

Its not that Din really is small but compared to Paz, he has always been smaller and he’s making himself smaller in this moment as he’s quivering, legs twitching and his breathing hitched as he shudders through half stifled sobs into the sheets.

His adiik is gone.

When the Armorer had contacted Paz, given him Din trajectory, Paz hadn’t been sure what to think. After Nevarro, after being exposed, after Din had stolen the adiik and the covert exposing themselves so obviously, they all fled with only a smaller guard kept behind to ensure the Imperials wouldn’t find the others.

A suicide mission, the people who took it had known that the likelihood of surviving it was smaller than a porg’s asshole.

Ships, normally stashed away in hidden caves and unused areas, were used to flee into the stars, some taking the foundlings and others going alone, everyone leaving their own trail or extinguishing them depending on if they were leading the Imperial trackers after them or trying to hide the younglings.

After all, they’d rather have the remains of the Empire tracing after the lone warriors and not the foundlings. The Armorer had stayed, everyone knew she would have, to try and scavenge what remained and try to keep the beskar in their hands as best she could.

It had been months and in all those months, trying cautiously to make contact with other mandalorians without attracting attention and surviving, Paz had spent the months thinking about Din and the quiet moments in the alcove, with of Din’s shaking body tucked in his lap, the tired grumble through the vocoder and the tiny traces of scent Paz had caught in the moment.

Paz had thought about the moments later, the way the soured scent had turned even softer with the adiik in his arms, the way Din’s arms had been protectively wrapped around the foundling that night.

The way it had looked right.

And now that foundling was gone once more.

There was a reason, a reason even Paz could understand, but for an omega, that had bonded to their child, to give them up despite knowing it was for their own protection…

It hurt.

Din was hurting so much when Paz had finally managed to track the other down on Slave 1.

He had barely noticed when Fett and the others had leveled blasters his way when he had come tearing over Nevarro’s sand, hadn’t cared as he had called for the stumbling man standing in the sun.

Honestly, it was good Din had friends, friends willing to shoot a beskar covered infantryman.

He had needed someone, especially after the covert was destroyed and they had all fled to each their corner of the galaxy.

Maybe they would have shot Paz if Din hadn’t recognized and been conscious enough to call Paz name back, Fett visibly twitching at the name Vizla but holstering his blaster still, the group watching as Paz pulled Din into his arms and the omega just folded against his chest.

Paz hadn’t cared at the time how close he had gotten to being shot, just so relieved to see Din at all, he had found the remains of the Razor Crest and at the time he had thought…

He had thought…

Dune had explained, Din leaning exhaustively against Paz chest, hands holding weakly onto the cuirasse. Paz couldn’t blame him, after everything he had gone through, from his the adiik being abducted, the hunt for information, to Gideon to the Jedi coming, ensuring their survival.

Only to return empty handed in the end.

No adiik.

A wound cutting deep and hard.

Karga had set them up with a place, the beta was fond of Din apparently and had understood that Din needed space, the scent of distressed omega curling around everyone as Din had run out of scent blockers with the destruction of the Crest and Fett had none, the alpha needing none himself and Shand being a beta herself.

It was a decent space, one where Paz took care of Din, carefully removing all his armor except the helmet before removing his own armor, guiding Din into his side as they sat on the bed.

Without the armor, Din was even smaller, just like that time in the alcove and the longer he sat against Paz, the more his body shook until low, hitched noises escaped him.

Paz wasn’t the others alpha, not really for all that he wanted but he was a packmate, despite them not bonding as deep as they should.

And with his heart in his stomach, shattering at every hitched sound, he had taken a chance and gently pressed Din down on the bed, covering the other up with his own body.

Just hoping, hoping he was providing some comfort as he eased himself to cover up Din as best he could.

A physiological thing, Paz acting like a weighted blanket with pheromones as he tried to sooth and with the way Din had latched onto his kute, Paz knew that at the very least Din wanted him to stay.

But to listen to him sob under his helmet, pressing his own to the back of Din’s as he shook and twitched, it was breaking Paz soul and the alpha in him whined helplessly.

He wanted to help but could do nothing more but hold the other, crooning quietly as Din cried and cried and cried for a adiik he had given away.

Paz had never felt so useless and so helpless as in this moment.

Brushing his hand along Din’s side, as if gentling an animal, Paz crooned deeply. “I’m here Din. I’m here.” He whispered.

It was the only thing he could offer the omega, he couldn’t offer that things would be alright, he couldn’t offer to get the kid, he couldn’t offer anything but himself. But Manda, if it helped, then that was what he’d give.

All of himself.

He might have imagined it, but Din’s noises seemed to have grown slightly quieter as Din tucked himself even more under Paz body, his shaking not as severe.

Maybe he wasn’t as useless as he feared.