#antiox mask

[sw5w]

He is Too Old

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:33:25

[valkeakuulas]

If you are still doing the kiss asks maybe 24. or 28. for Plo/Wolffee? Pretty please, p.s. I love your one-shots very much!

Hello there, dear Anon. Thank you for telling me that, it made me smile. Also, sorry for the wait, I got distracted for a bit. 💚💚

I don't see the dice here but it's been ages since someone has asked me to write any Plo/Wolffe, so I threw an actual d6 to pick between these two (odds for 24 and evens for 28) and got 3, so pompt 24 it is! -- -- --

24. A Sleepy Kiss

Plo didn't know what disturbed his sleep but even before he fully woke up, he forced his body to stay relaxed. There was a warm weight resting on top of the Kel Dor and Plo didn't want to disturb them.

Opening his eyes to the dimness of his quarters, Plo neither saw nor heard anything that would've given him a reason to wake up.

Looking down, Plo listened to Wolffe's slow, even breathing as he slept peacefully in Plo's arms, head pillowed by the Kel Dor's chest. He could see only the dark curls and parts of Wolffe's forehead from this position but there was nothing wrong in his partner that could've explained why he was awake.

Frowning, Plo called for the Force, feeling it flow through him. As Plo concentrated, he mused that he must've sensed some trooper's thoughts through his sleep. Before he could use the Force to locate the source and comm someone to check on them, Wolffe twitched before curling tighter around Plo.

Oh, Plo realised with a slow blink of eyes. It was Wolffe.

Wolffe was having a nightmare.

Pulling his hand from beneath the blanket, Plo carefully ran his claws through Wolffe's hair, careful of the cartilage that made his ear. He could feel the tendons in Wolffe's neck tense and his pulse a little elevated from usual.

There were no other signs, not even a sound from Wolffe to show that his dreams had taken a darker tone. His Commander's mental shielding was impeccable even dead asleep but at that moment Plo found it more disturbing than impressive.

It would be so easy for Plo to use the Force to enter Wolffe's mind, use it like a gentle whisper to guide him away from the nightmare and into more pleasant dreams.

But he wouldn't. There were other means to help someone.

Instead, Plo gathered his lover closer, rolling them to the side so that they were facing each other. His chest warmed when Wolffe barely stirred at the movement, his trust in Plo overriding a lifetime of training. That, or the nightmare had a much stronger grip on him.

Plo shifted so that Wolffe rested his head on his arm, using his free hand to pet the mussed-up curls and scarred brow. He used his claws to gently scratch Wolffe's scalp as he started to hum a song from a distant past. The antiox mask guaranteed that it would never sound like the one Plo had heard in his childhood but the deep rumble it turned his voice had proven to be very soothing.

The lullaby and the gentle, affectionate touches seemed to help as Wolffe inhaled, deep, and his whole body relaxed, all but melting into the bunk.

Satisfied, Plo sighed and pressed the flat front of his mask into Wolffe's forehead.

Just as he leaned back, Wolffe moved again but this time it was to chase after the touch, mouth brushing the engraved metal.

Plo chuckled at the kiss he had received from his still-asleep Commander. Pulling Wolffe close, Plo let the sleep claim him once more.

There were no more nightmares through the rest of the night.

[fresh-orange-whispers]

MINOR INDULGENCE

So, I finally wrote something about an idea that came to my mind, discussed and shared with my lovely friend @dukeoftheblackstar

Plo Koon in his private chamber.

AO3 link here.

---

Amid the unfriendly chilling air of Coruscant’s night, skyscrapers of the most bustling Galactic City shone brightly with vivid lighting. On the top was the endless circulating skylane, and on the bottom, pedestrians walking along the streets where all forms of life gathered, shuttling between bars, theaters, and clubs to embrace the arrival of the night revelry.

Days like this were not unfamiliar to Plo Koon. Day after day, year after year, now the three hundred and eightieth, dying at the hands of the merciless time that has slipped through his fingers. He traveled between his home planet Dorin, Coruscant and other destinations, for whatever reason. Peaceful life and dangerous missions, two seemingly contradictory concepts, coexisted so harmoniously and equally to him.

Another long-winded Jedi Council meeting, and next to him sat the reputed Master Windu – Mace, a stern, conscientious, reliable man, rigid in the observation of dogmas – who did not seem to have even smiled once since he had known him. Plo Koon used to sit upright in the armchair that belonged to him, with his large hands folded over his chest, fingers intertwined, armored talons resting on the knuckles. He was cautious, calm, and knowledgeable, preferring to listen rather than speak.

It was all about Anakin, again.

Padawan braid long but still a child.

The boy has been proven to be remarkable, despite his young age and impulsive nature. Lately he has been acting quite nervously, in an irrepressible eagerness to show off even more. Plo could hear him speaking out loud and defending his position while challenging Mace Windu's firm authority. Plo had witnessed his potential and the boy had spoken with him many times. He had allowed him to complain, and he understood the enthusiasm sparkling in his bright eyes, that adventurous and carefree attitude unique to a young padawan of worth. He was perhaps the only one on the Jedi Council who could understand that, even if he was no longer young – at least compared to Anakin.

The meeting over, Plo Koon stood up and bowed politely to his fellow Jedi. He was tall and lean, dressed in a long brown robe, the fabric of which draped to his ankles where his boots were barely visible. He had the graceful posture of a scholar and walked like a living Baran Do sage.

Plo had a private chamber in the Jedi Temple, his pristine room on Coruscant where he spent countless dawns and nightfalls. He opened the gas valves near the main door. With a loud hiss, the Dorin gas began to gradually fill the entire confined space.

He must repeat the chore every day. Due to the special composition and functioning of his species’ respiratory system, he had no choice but to pay attention to such trivial matters at all times.

Plo unbuttoned his robe and let the fabric slide off his broad shoulders, revealing his solid chest, clad in a well-crafted light brown tunic with a wide belt at the waist. He had his lightsaber strapped to the belt and a small kit carrying the equipment needed to clean his antiox mask.

He didn't need to clean the mask today since he had already done it yesterday. All he needed now was to rest and relax.

With a few clickings, Plo unhooked the tubes connecting his head to the mask. Extendable, dark pink-orange tendrils wriggled out of the tubes, quickly retracting into the extremities of the sensory organs on either side of his head. He deftly pulled the metal respirator and the goggles off, revealing his bare face. The airtight device had left deep indentations on his face from the prolonged compression — bruises on his orange-brown skin, observable to the naked eye.

He reached up and massaged the stiff muscles of his face, fingers tracing his broad forehead to his protruding cheekbones, then to his gaunt, emaciated visage. Without the barrier of the antiox mask, his facial expression became more evident and clearer — his eyebrows stretched, his gentle silver irises covered in a layer of watery mist — a blessed relief from the constraints.

Plo let out a sigh of relaxation, his voice soft and hoarse without the mask modulator.

Mask, mask.

It was a shame he had to endure that to survive on a planet that wasn't his own. But he never complained, not even once.

He placed the mask in a designated corner of the room, then walked over to the window walls, hands clasped behind his back. Even though he could no longer bathe in the cool breeze of Coruscant's night, he could still look up and appreciate the hazy scenery of the city's brightness and the endless traffic flow in the sky above.

The light and darkness of the night turned into colorful dots, projecting and shining on his face –

A face completely alien to other species.

A pair of dark eyes with silver irises set in its hollow sockets – the hallmark of a Force-sensitive Kel Dor. His nose formed a beak-like structure in the center of his face, beneath which was a large, long vertical gap extending from the nose to the tapered chin. Two pairs of tendrils on either side of his cheeks, thicker than the ones sticking out from his sensory organs, ended in sharp black tusks. As he relaxed physically and mentally, his motionless tusks began to move slightly around his mouth in an easy and casual manner, which was one of the ways the Kel Dors used to communicate with each other.

This face of his was usually hidden under the metal antiox mask, and very few people have seen it.

Plo Koon didn't care about his appearance – that was far from his concern – but he knew that the Kel Dors were not considered an attractive species.

Plo sat cross-legged in front of the massive glass windows. The moonlight streamed through the window walls, forming beautiful rectangular patterns on the spotless floor — an ambiance calm and peaceful. He didn't usually go to crowded places, unless he had to go on crucial missions, gather sensitive information, or meet with important political figures. Even for those tasks, he had to wrap himself in a long, dark cloak from head to toe, doing his best to ensure that no one would recognize his identity as a Jedi.

Meditation.

Through meditation, he could better sense the presence of the Force around him and the power that surged in his veins and bones. Force sensitivity seemed to be an innate superpower, but acquired training was also essential to forging a Jedi Knight. Plo Koon had been fortunate to be favored by the Maker — for the Kel Dors' hypersensitive senses were the cherry on top, setting him apart from other Jedi. He ignited his lightsaber as little as possible, though his swordsmanship was so mastered and precise, strong enough to rival that of the Grandmaster Yoda. Yet, he relied more on his powerful ability to understand than on violence.

A compassionate and unflappable calm man.

And respected by all.

Silence completely reigned the chamber, the Dorin gas had already filled all the corners of the space and the valves had stopped pumping. Plo Koon kept his back straight, like an exquisite statue under the moonlight.

Unconsciously, minute by minute, time fled away, even the humble Jedi Master eventually succumbed to his most basic need for sustenance.

Plo did not eat much, especially in the evening, he usually contented himself with Zand nuts and fruits of the Kand trees. He prepared them already in the morning and put the roll in a clean bowl, placed on the table not far from the windows.

Keeping his body still, he simply waved his right hand. With that gesture, the bowl floated right in front of his eyes, slowly landing between his open palms that were resting flat on his knees.

His silver eyes were still shut, as a piece of nut roll in the bowl rose slowly and steadily. Fine tendrils extended once again from the extremities of the curled sensory organs on the sides of his head, dancing rapidly in the air as if to gauge the distance between him and the food. Until the food reached at the same height as his mouth, his two pairs of tusks began to work. The tips of the tusks staggered over the lips as they fully extended to clamp the food in the air, bringing it into the gaping space of his face in a strange but elegant manner. He then gently pulled his lips back and stuck out the pharyngeal jaws – the upper and lower palates slowly opening to bite off a mouthful of bread.

Piece by piece, Plo enjoyed his rare free time under the pale moonlight. Only when the bowl was empty did he straighten his back and open his eyes, his expression gentle and relaxed.

For other species, the helium-ridden planet Dorin and its strange denizens would indeed remain a mystery, but Plo could have made an exception.

[lamaenthel]

Tivaevae | Chapter Two: Frayed Edges

Still struggling to emotionally recover from Master Obi-Wan's deception, Ahsoka discovers in the aftermath that twelve-year-old Boba Fett has been locked up among adults in the Republic Judiciary Central Detention Center. After convincing Chancellor Palpatine to grant him a pardon, she manages to secure his release on the condition that she serve as his legal guardian. Now, with the help of Master Plo and the Wolfpack, she vows to help him track down what family he has left.

| AO3 | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 |

Fandom: Star Wars Characters: Ahsoka Tano, Boba Fett, Plo Koon, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Mace Windu, Kanan Jarrus, Sheev Palpatine | Darth Sidious, CT-27-5555 | ARC-5555 | Fives, CC-1119 | Appo, Dexter Jettster, FLO | WA-7 (Star Wars), Shaak Ti, ARC Commander Blitz (Star Wars), CT-6922 | Dogma, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CC-3636 | Wolffe, Clone Trooper Sinker (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Comet (Star Wars), CC-2224 | Cody, CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-4860 | Boost, Aurra Sing, Tobias Beckett, Null-11 | Ordo Skirata, Kal Skirata, Original Mandalorian Characters (Star Wars), Original Droid Characters (Star Wars), Original Jedi Character(s) (Star Wars) Total Word Count: 123,000 Chapter Word Count: 6,815 Chapter Summary: Plo, Ahsoka, and Boba go out to dinner while Obi-Wan commiserates with Cody back at the barracks.

Ahsoka met Boba's eyes in the rearview mirror of Plo's speeder and they were… unnerving. There was none of the warmth of his brothers' eyes in his hard, chipped gaze. He may not have been sent to the front lines, but he'd been fighting a war all on his own since the First Battle of Geonosis.

Boba stared back at her without flinching, his aura a hard, cast-iron gray. "The fuck are you looking at, tailhead?"

Good grief, the kid had a mouth on him. She exchanged looks with Plo. He seemed strangely amused for a man who had gasped so hard the first time she squeaked out kriff! that his antiox mask almost fell off.

"What's with the potty mouth?" she asked, exasperated. Swearing didn't bother her, she spent almost every minute of her daily life around soldiers, but Boba's mouth was just rancid. Despite Plo's golden aura of humor, it made her cringe to see someone cussing up such a storm in front of him. Plus, curses in Basic just… hit harder, for whatever reason.

"I've got fucking freedom of fucking speech, bitch." He took one last loud slurp of his chocolate milkshake and tossed the cup over the side. He'd ordered it after loudly verifying that chocolate was toxic to both Togrutas and Kel Dor.

Ahsoka covered her face and fought the urge to scream. She had no idea what she thought she was doing. Once again, she'd thrown herself headfirst into action without thinking about what succeeding would actually mean. Boba was practically feral, and he was all hers.

Already she felt like calling Padmé to beg her to save her from her own stupidity. She peeked in the rearview mirror once Boba finally turned away and watched him. Someone had shaved his head and it made him look even smaller. He had a shiner that covered the left half of his swollen face, a split lip, and had walked out of the prison like he had at least one broken rib. He was going to have to see Kix as soon as they got to the barracks. A detour through the drive-through of Ahsoka and Plo's favorite creamery had eased the staticky-white panic that had started vibrating around his aura the moment he'd stepped into the interview room, all spikey like a sea urchin and pulsing with violet and gray sadness-disappointment-fear, but it hadn't helped with the swearing.

Plo hummed to himself. "I'll drop you off at the barracks, Padawan. I believe young Boba will be much more comfortable there as opposed to the Jedi Temple."

Boba snorted. "Fucking right. Last thing I want it to be surrounded by any more of you bi–"

"Alright, we get it!" Ahsoka exclaimed. "You're a hard–" she glanced at Plo, " –butt, now shut up!"

"Ahsoka!" Plo immediately admonished her.

"I said butt!"

"You know I do not appreciate hearing you tell someone to 'shut up,' Padawan."

"Master, he's been swearing nonstop since we left!" Ahsoka whined. "He called Zinny a besh-word for asking if he wanted a napkin!"

"There are ways of requesting that one alters their speech without telling them to shut up," Plo said pointedly.

"Yes, Master," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"That's right, bitch, alter your fucking speech," Boba sneered from the back seat.

Ahsoka pressed her palms against her eyes and wondered if Kix would tranquilize Boba if she asked very nicely.

"Boba, I will ask that you refrain from insulting Ahsoka any further. She worked very hard to get you released from prison, you know."

"Oh yeah?" Boba challenged Plo through the rearview mirror. "How so?"

"Well for one, she requested an emergency meeting with the Chancellor of the Republic himself and convinced him to grant you a full pardon." Plo got off of the main drag and approached the barracks from the south.

Boba's aura fluttered with gray-yellow surprise. "Well thank you very much for springing me, tailhead," he said snidely after he'd recovered. "How'd you convince the Chancellor to pardon me, eh? Use your mouth? You've got nice lips, I bet you convinced him quick."

Ahsoka bit the side of her cheek and looked at Plo.

"He's trying to get a reaction from you," Plo said mildly.

"I know," she grumbled. "It won't work."

"Ignore him."

Boba kicked the back of her seat with both feet repeatedly. "Hey tailhead, you ever had your besh licked from the back?"

She growled darkly. "Oh, you little–"

"That's enough, Boba," Plo said firmly, then turned the radio on to some slow-tempo electronic music. "Let us appreciate the music instead of the sound of our own voices for the rest of the ride."

"Ha–"

"Appreciate the music," Plo interrupted him sharply. "No more speaking."

She and Boba both crossed their arms and locked eyes in the rearview mirror, exchanging death glares. His face suddenly split in a grin and he started flicking his tongue at her like a lizard.

She rolled her eyes and looked away, then looked back a few seconds later to see that he was still doing it but had slowed down and added his fingers in a yirt below his tongue.

Her lip curled in disgust. He was twelve, that was just wrong.

Plo sighed beside her, his aura a lot more chartreuse in annoyance than it had been a moment ago. She felt a little mollified to see that Boba was getting to him too.

She looked up and saw Boba had gotten his other hand into the display, thrusting into the air with vulgar enthusiasm. She eyed the speeder brake. Boba had his seatbelt on, she could probably nudge the brake with the Force and give the little stinker an attitude adjustment without hurting him.

"Don't, Padawan," Plo warned her dryly, not taking his eyes off of the speeder traffic. The barracks were only one more block away.

Ahsoka brought up her message center and quickly messaged Rex to say that they were almost there, then sighed and leaned back. At least Rex would help her now. He'd given her the brief rundown on their history; how after the rest of his batch had died in a training accident, he'd received a few weeks of training from the Prime himself and even stayed in his quarters for a bit until he could be absorbed into another batch. After being reassigned to Cody's batch he had still looked out for Boba whenever he could. Some of the more experimental troopers didn't have the same respect for the Prime and his son, they'd picked on him mercilessly every time Jango left for a job.

"I got my shebs handed to me, but I still stepped up to them," Rex shrugged. "The Nulls were crazy, sure – you'd look up at midmeal and there would be one climbing the rafters. But the problem was they were mean as hell to anyone who wasn't part of their little family. They liked to torture Boba. Everyone else was afraid of them and I was too, but he was so small compared to us. I couldn't just stand there and watch."

It didn't surprise Ahsoka in the slightest that even as a cadet, Rex had been watching the back of a little sibling. He was a good man. It was why she loved him so much.

His left hand cupped the back of her head, directly under her rear lek, and his forehead gently pressed against hers. "Voy entye, vod'ika."

She shook her head and cleared her mind. It wasn't wise to think too hard about such things around Plo. Besides, it hadn't meant anything. He was just thanking her for helping him with his panic attack.

It… it was just that it had felt like it could have been something else. His aura had been copper, which to her usually signified familial love, but it had just been so intense at the time. It made her second guess her initial impression.

Plo parked across from the barracks in the administrative staff garage, then turned and looked at Boba.

"Anyone ever told you your face looks like a ruined vagina?" Boba asked casually.

"Once or twice," Plo rumbled, his aura going gold again.

"Master, don't encourage him," Ahsoka moaned into her hands, unable to look at either of them.

"Now, Boba," Plo began, "I do warn you that you are about to enter the living space of five-hundred and seventy-six men who are very fond of Padawan Tano and will not take kindly to crude comments made about her. Do with this information what you will."

Boba's face and aura both blanched with fear, and Ahsoka could tell from the way his eyes darted across the street that he was remembering the Nulls.

"Hey," she said gently. "I won't let anyone hurt you, okay? Just… clean up your language a little."

"Whatever," Boba muttered, looking away.

Plo's eyes and cheeks moved in his version of a smile, and his aura brimmed a soft blue with pride. "Very good," he said, then patted her on the shoulder. "I will return this evening once I've made our traveling arrangements. Try not to burn the barracks down."

Ahsoka huffed a soft laugh and nodded. "Alright, kiddo, let's go hang out with your brothers."

"They're not my brothers," Boba said sourly, flaring red with anger. "I'm not like them."

"Tell me about it." Ahsoka unbelted herself, got out, and held Boba's door open for him. She took the small satchel of his returned possessions from prison and wrapped her fingers tightly around his bicep before he could bolt.

"Koh-to-yah!" Plo called before leaving.

Ahsoka looked down at the miniature vod beside her. "This doesn't have to be a nightmare, you know," she said gently, leading him up the staircase to the skywalk. "I'm not trying to be your mom, Fox was just joking. We can get along."

"I don't get along with shabla jetii," he snapped, his aura going red again.

"Well, you're gonna have to learn," Ahsoka said tightly.

They approached the upper security gate. "Hey, Disk," Ahsoka greeted him once they were within earshot.

"Hey, Commander." He didn't have his helmet on and he was looking at Boba curiously. "What are you doing on Coruscant, cadet?"

"I'm gonna be a soldier one day, just like you!" Boba said brightly, widening his eyes and peeling his lips back in a creepy, manic grin. "I'm going to die for the Republic!"

Ahsoka rolled her eyes. "He needs a visitor's pass."

Disk watched Boba uneasily as he prepared one, who held the terrifying grimace on his face without moving, blinking or breathing.

"Can you stop being weird?" Ahsoka finally asked, then snapped her fingers in front of his eyes so he'd blink.

Boba startled, glared at her, then snapped his heels together and stood at perfect attention. "Sir, Yes Sir!" he bellowed. "I will be more patriotic immediately, Sir!"

"That's not what I said–"

"Galactic Republic!" Boba started to loudly sing.

Ahsoka winced, the notes vibrating her montrals like nails on porcelain.

"Star systems united!" he continued to sing, purposefully off-key.

"Boba, stop."

"Here's his pass, Commander," Disk said loudly over the boy's shrieking.

"Under our flaaaags!"

Ahsoka was trying to be the grown-up here, but she did have a limit. "Quiet!" she snapped, then dragged him through the gate and away from Disk.

"ALL STARS BURN AS ONNNNNNNE!" Boba belted at the top of his lungs as they cleared the last gate.

"Boba, shut up! That's enough!" she hissed at him.

"Fucking right it is." He jammed a razor-point elbow into her gut and bolted like a racing fathier, disappearing around the corner before Ahsoka could so much as reach out for him.

"Oh, you little shit–" Ahsoka took off after him, relying on her Empathy to keep a lock on his uniquely gray aura. He was way too fast for a kid with broken ribs.

"Disk, lock down the exits!" Ahsoka barked into her commlink as she tried to catch up. Holy karking sithspit, did the kid have wheels?

"He already gotten away from you?" Disk asked.

"Disk!" she shrieked.

"On it, Commander."

Ahsoka bounced around the corner and saw Boba cheekily wave and then flip his middle fingers up at her from behind a set of closing turbo-lift doors.

"Seriously?" Ahsoka said to herself in disbelief, then spun and charged for the emergency staircase. Boba's aura was tanking at top speed to the bottom level; she vaulted over the edge of the winding stairs and landed hard on her heels. She slid the stairwell door open with the Force and took off, slamming into a trooper at full speed a half-second later.

"Sorry!" she called, then did a double take. "Fives! Help me!" She yanked him to his feet with the Force and then took off with his hand in hers.

"Are we under attack?" Fives gasped, still breathless from her hitting him like a cannonball. His aura was blinking red-white alarm.

"We have to catch Boba before he escapes!"

"Boba?" Fives asked, bewildered. "Your tea is escaping?"

"Not boba tea, Boba Fett!" She slammed them both into the wall as they turned the corner to keep their momentum and kept sprinting. He'd gotten off the turbo-lift and she wasn't sure which floor he was on, but he was moving. Troopers dove out of their way like they were avoiding a runaway turbo-train.

"Boba Fett?" Fives' voice cracked. "What the hell is he doing here?"

Ahsoka spied Boba's aura intensifying; he was getting closer to her. "I took custody of him!"

"You what?" Fives laughed in sheer green disbelief. "What does that mean?"

"I'm his legal guardian!" She dragged Fives into another stairwell and went up a floor. He was much closer now.

"You've gotta be– what, is he gonna go on campaigns with us? Do we have babysitting shifts?"

"I don't know, Fives!" she wailed.

"Does Rex know?"

"It was his idea!"

"No it shabla was not!" Fives gasped.

Ahsoka slid to a halt, and Fives crashed into her from behind and bumped her a few feet forward. "Where did he go?" Ahsoka asked frantically. She turned and took Fives by the plastoid biceps. "He was so close, where did he go?" She shook him a little.

"I don't know?" Fives responded faintly.

"He's too far away, I can't see his aura." She started to pace back and forth, squeezing her front lekku with both hands. "We can't panic. He can't have gotten far, right? W-We just have to stay calm and not panic."

"Yeah, of–"

"Don't panic, Fives!" she hissed, speeding up her pacing.

"I–"

"Stop panicking!"

"Okay, okay!"

Ahsoka felt short of breath but she hadn't been running long enough to be winded. "We need more troopers to help us. Everyone needs to stop what they're doing and search before he gets out."

"Cadet, get back here!"

Ahsoka saw a flash of brown haloed by gray at the opposite end of the hall, closely followed by an annoyed Appo. She and Fives looked at one another, stunned, then bolted after them.

"Stop!" Ahsoka hollered, crashing and sliding around the corner like a three-legged ozaawi'igo on ice.

"Where is he even going?" Fives yelled from behind her.

How was she supposed to know? "Get back here!"

"Fuck you!" Boba ducked through a door on the right and Fives and Ahsoka crashed into Appo trying to follow him. The three ended up in a tangled pile of plastoid on the ground just in time to watch Boba's feet disappear inside the ceiling vent.

"Oh, come on," Ahsoka moaned.

Appo gave her an exasperated look. "Do you know why there's a cadet running around the barracks?" he asked her dryly.

"The Commander adopted him," Fives supplied.

Ahsoka untwisted Fives' leg from around her torso. "He's not a cadet, he's Boba Fett, and I'm his legal guardian."

Appo's aura flared in sour orange anger-annoyance. "Boba Fett? The vod'kyramud?"

Ahsoka got to her feet and helped the two troopers up to theirs. "Please don't call him that."

"It's what he is," Appo said coldly.

She sighed. "Come on, vod. He's just a little kid. He was used."

Appo met her eyes with a measured look. "He's older than me," he said dryly. "Follow me. The closest opening big enough for him to crawl out of is in the laundry."

He wasn't in the laundry, and then he wasn't in the mess, and after they'd jogged behind Appo to the weight room Fives had to hold Ahsoka's hands away from her lekku because they were starting to bruise with how much she was nervously squeezing them.

"Commander, I've seen you less on edge surrounded by destroyers," Fives said desperately. "Why are you so upset?"

"Besides the fact that if he gets out I allowed a convicted terrorist to escape onto Coruscant?" Ahsoka said, reaching for her lek again.

Fives slapped her hand down. "Yes, besides that."

"I also don't want anything to happen to him!"

"Nobody's gonna hurt him," Appo called back, more annoyed than ever. His aura had gone practically neon chartreuse with it. "Not much, anyway, but–"

"Looking for something?"

Ahsoka tripped over her own feet and would have fallen if Fives didn't have a hold of her hand. "Rex," she breathed in relief. He strode up to them with a bemused expression, holding a squirming, hissing Boba under one arm.

"Come on, you said you were gonna get me out of here!" Boba whined. His nose scrunched up in the universal expression of Fett annoyance, his aura gone chartreuse to match.

"I did get you out of there," Rex said, shaking him gently.

"Asshole," Boba said sullenly.

"Found this one stuck behind the fridge in the officer's lounge," Rex said, his aura dancing with golden humor.

"Trash compactor's just down the hall," Appo deadpanned.

"Very funny." Rex shook Boba again. "I'm going to put you down now. If you run, you're getting a stunner bolt to the shebs, 'lek?"

Boba growled like an angry kitten. " 'lek, Tiarek."

Ahsoka frowned. She was fairly fluent in Mando'a, but she didn't know what that word meant and she didn't want to ask in front of Boba. He'd definitely make fun of her.

"Oi." Rex swung him forward so he could stand up and kept a firm hand on his shoulder. "What'd I say about that?"

Boba rolled his eyes. "Okay, Rex," he said in a mocking tone.

Ahsoka tried not to let her confusion show on her face. Was Tiarek a nickname? She couldn't for the life of her understand the dynamic between the two. Rex had said he'd stayed at the Prime's side for a few weeks and had then been reassigned to Cody's batch, but Boba had willingly left his hiding spot at Rex's request. To her, that spoke to a level of trust that went above a temporary childhood playmate that he had stopped from getting beaten up a few times.

She'd have to figure it out later. "We need to go see Kix," she said firmly, crossing her arms. "At least get some bacta on that shiner."

Boba glared at her and then the ground. "I'm fine," he grunted.

"Nuh uh." Ahsoka gave Rex a soft smile and clamped her hand down on Boba's other shoulder. "Come on. And trust me, as someone who's gotten a stunner to the shebs more than once, you definitely don't want to try to run again."

" – then she had the nerve to say "Oh, I do hope the Council doesn't censure Master Kenobi too harshly for failing to report egregious abuse of a child.' Egregious, Cody. She said egregious."

"That's awful, Sir," Cody said, his eyes flicking back and forth across the datapad he was holding.

"Then I tried to speak to her outside of the chamber because I actually have a modicum of propriety and was not about to involve the entire Council in our personal dispute, and she just… kept at it! Kept acting like a child!"

Cody didn't look up from his reports. "Oh, no."

"She went to leave and yes, I grabbed her arm but I was not rough, then she hissed at me."

Cody's eye twitched. "Wow."

"Something's clearly wrong with her arm, but of course I didn't feel as though I could even ask. She's being so churlish. I expected better of her."

"Yep."

Obi-Wan stopped his pacing and glanced down at Cody, who'd dekitted and was sitting on the most treasured artifact of the 212th's barracks; a neon-orange divan that was less of a sofa and more of a wad of perfectly round pillows that had been sewn together in the shape of a couch. Senator Amidala had graciously donated it. She'd ordered the ugly sofa in a fit of whimsy, intending it for her office, but once it arrived she had immediately decided that she hated it and had asked Obi-Wan if he had any ideas on what to do with it.

The men loved it. It could fit at least ten of them at one time, and although it was in the third-floor officer's lounge it wasn't uncommon to find a pile of privates on it snoozing together after a shift.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath, centered himself, and released his frustration to the Force. Poor Cody didn't deserve to have his ear wagged off like this. "I apologize, Commander," he said sincerely, taking a seat beside him. "I'm being terribly droll, aren't I?"

"Not at all, Sir," Cody said calmly. "Ah– when does General Skywalker return from Toydaria?"

"He'll be available for me to whine at late tomorrow morning," Obi-Wan replied with a small smile.

Cody's lips twitched. "Good to know."

Obi-Wan huffed a small laugh, pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried not to scratch his stubble. He was starting to develop some rather obvious red lines on the back of his head.

"But I think you're going to have to make it right with her, General. Saying 'sorry' isn't going to cut it in this case."

"Oh, not you too," Obi-Wan said in dismay. "Come, now, I need at least one person on my side."

"I'm always on your side, General," Cody said mildly, still reading.

He was, wasn't he? Obi-Wan had so much appreciation for his Marshall Commander and the gracious way he'd handled the operation. Instead of being bitter and holding a grudge like his Padawans, Cody had simply told him that he was glad to see him on his feet but he'd appreciate being invited to the funeral next time.

He was a good man.

"But remember, Commander Tano is a sixteen-year-old girl who watched one of her favorite people die in her arms," Cody continued. "You can't really blame her for being upset."

"I don't blame her for being upset," Obi-Wan immediately replied. "I would have been concerned had she not been upset. What I will not tolerate is spiteful retribution."

"What do you mean, Sir?"

Obi-Wan gave an exasperated sigh. "I know you're multitasking, Commander, but did you hear anything I said?"

"Every word," Cody replied. "I'm not sure what retribution you're referring to, is all. Besides the 'egregious' dig, obviously, that was a little… dalgaanyc."

"She adopted a child, Cody!" Obi-Wan exclaimed. "She took legal responsibility for Boba Fett because of it! She brought it to the Council, and now Master Plo is involved–"

"You think she did all of that to spite you?" Cody said, finally looking up from his datapad. He put the thing down, rubbed his eyes, and slid down further into the cushions of the ugly divan. "Sir, that's… no. That's not why she did it."

Obi-Wan scoffed. "Why else–"

"Because Rex asked her to," Cody said dryly. "And because it was the right thing to do."

Obi-Wan blinked. "Oh."

"Yep." Cody picked up the datapad again, shaking his head.

"But why would Rex care about Boba Fett?" Obi-Wan asked.

Cody's lips pursed. "It's… a long story."

Obi-Wan shrugged. "Well, as I said, Anakin doesn't return until tomorrow morning."

Cody looked up, thought for a moment, then having seemingly come to a decision, gave Obi-Wan a conspiratorial smirk. "That you did." He tossed the datapad aside and gave Obi-Wan a familiar clap on the knee. "Alright. Let's move this to my office. If you wouldn't mind getting a pot of caf, Sir, I'll meet you there with the tihaar. I wasn't joking. This is a long story."

"But this monstrosity is quite comfortable," Obi-Wan said, wiggling a little with a smile. "I'm loath to abandon it for an office chair."

"You can either get the lore in my office or not at all, Sir." Cody gave him one last grin before sliding open the door to the lounge. "Respectfully, of course."

"If you insist, Commander." Obi-Wan heaved himself up and headed down to the mess hall to retrieve a pot of caf for Cody, some hot water for himself to make tea, and a handful of chocolate biscuits from the vending droid for the two to share.

Gossip always did taste the best when chased with chocolate.

Scran acquired, he made his way to Cody's office to find the Commander already there, comfortably sprawled in his desk chair. He gestured to his neatly-made rack after relieving Obi-Wan of the pot of caf.

"Now," Cody began, pouring it into a mug that he'd already dosed with a shot of tihaar, "Obviously, Sir, I'm trusting that what I'm about to tell you will not leave this room."

"Alright," Obi-Wan said, bemused. He took a seat and handed the man a chocolate biscuit, which was received with a gracious grin.

Cody took a bite, chased it with his mug of caf, then swallowed hard. "I suppose the first thing I should tell you is what happened to Rex's original batch. He believes that they died in a training accident."

Obi-Wan's brows went up. "They didn't?"

Cody shook his head grimly. "Nope."

"Oh dear," Obi-Wan murmured to himself. "I'm afraid to even ask."

The good humor left Cody's eyes. "The Kaminoans used to be a lot more selective when it came to… shall we say, phenotypic variations."

"The hair?" Obi-Wan's brows went up even higher.

"The hair." Cody took another sip. "His whole batch was euthanized except for him. Not because of any special reason, he was just the last one in line. One of the Cuy'val Dar charged in and snatched him right off of a lab table with a needle in his neck. She stabbed one of the Kaminoans with it, from what I heard, though I don't know if that's actually true."

Obi-Wan, who'd been about to pour himself some hot water for tea, held his mug out for a nip of tihaar instead. If that was how the story started, then tea wasn't going to be enough.

The bacta gel that Rex's medic had massaged over Boba's ribs and face smelled like ass. He couldn't get it out of his nose, even now that he was in Koon's open-air speeder again.

"So, Boba, how did you enjoy the barracks?" Koon asked, glancing at him in the rearview mirror.

Tano was seated on his left with her wrist cuffed to his so he couldn't run off again. She snorted derisively. "He certainly got a good tour of the ventilation shafts," she said, looking at him out of the corner of her giant eye.

"So I heard." Koon signaled, then eased onto an exit ramp. "Well done in retrieving him."

"She didn't," Boba said mildly. "Rex did."

Tano's eyes flicked over to him.

"It is a good thing that Rex was there, then." Koon merged into a speederlane. They were in an industrial zone, now.

"I thought we were going to go eat," Boba said warily. "The fuck are we doing in CoCo town?"

Tano stilled and looked out over the side, then glared at Koon. "Good question," she said, and the chill in her voice could have frozen tibanna.

Koon glanced back, unbothered. "What's wrong? I thought that you were quite fond of Dex's diner."

Tano didn't back down. "Is he going to be there?" she asked, still frosty.

"Who?" Koon hummed and parked the PL-90 in the lot behind a janky old shitbox of a diner. It was the newest speeder there by at least twenty years.

Boba had to wonder how well being a Jedi paid.

"I believe you know who I'm referring to, Master," Tano said bitchily.

"Oh, Master Kenobi?" Koon asked, turning to her. "I don't believe he is here, but as your bond with him is much stronger than mine, I think that you would sense his presence easier than I."

"Kenobi?" Boba growled. Fuck, if he never heard that name again it would be too soon. Kenobi wasn't the one who swung the jetii'kad, but he was the cunt who kickstarted everything that ended with Dad rotting with his beskar'gam scattered to who the fuck knew where. Of course the stupid tailhead knew him. Boba knew how to break his thumb and get out of cuffs, it was just a matter of getting a head start on the bitch.

"Yeah, Kenobi," she said, waving her hand dismissively at him. "You didn't invite him, did you Master Plo?"

"No, I did not." Koon let himself out of the speeder and held her door open for her. "Now come. Let us have a nice, hearty meal. I'm sure young Boba would prefer that to the rations of the barracks."

"Prison food was better," Boba snipped.

"Stop complaining." Tano yanked him forward.

"Has the novelty of motherhood worn off so soon?" Koon asked, arranging his weird face in what Boba assumed was a smirk.

Tano snorted. "I've spent my entire apprenticeship around soldiers, and I've heard the forn-word more in the last three hours than I have in almost three years."

"I agree that imprisonment has certainly affected his manners." Koon opened the door to the diner for Boba and his Tog escort.

"Oh, fuck off," Boba grumbled as he passed him. "It's just words. If they scare you that fucking much then go meditate about waterfalls, or stealing babies, or whatever it is you cunts think about so you don't start blowing up shit with your brains when you get mad."

Tano and Plo exchanged bewildered looks. "When we what?" she asked faintly.

The diner wasn't slow, but it wasn't as packed as Boba expected for a grubhouse conveniently located in the center of a dozen different factories. Most of the diners had on brown jumpsuits with the logo of a rubber sealant company, tight enough around the leg to where Boba could see the outline of knives strapped to a few legs. There was a lone, stunner-armed, Mirialan security guard for a bank nursing a cup of caf at the counter. The rest were various flavors of unemployed, two armed with blasters and one with a baton, but Boba was around ninety-percent sure that the Weequay in the center booth snoring into a plate of scrambled nuna eggs had once been part of Hondo Ohnaka's crew.

"Hey there, how can I–" A waitress bot zoomed up to them and stopped dead, then turned towards the kitchen. "Honey! Obi-Wan's kid is here. She brought some friends."

Tano's stripes flushed black and Boba could have sworn that he heard a growl come out of her.

"Ahsoka!" An obese Besalisk in a grease-stained white apron waddled out from swinging kitchen doors. "Aw, no Obi-Wan today?"

"No," Tano said with a tight smile. "Dexter Jettser, may I introduce Jedi Master Plo Koon and, ah–" Tano glanced down at him and she paused. "Initiate Robert."

Boba stared at her with his mouth open a little. Robert?

"Well, tell that old hound I said hello. Good to meet you two. FLO will get you some menus and drinks. Sit anywhere you want, you know how it goes here." The Besalisk gave her a fond pat on the back and waddled back towards the kitchen. "I'll get your usual started. It takes a minute to get your sauce boiling."

Tano smiled a little and ducked her head. "Thanks, Dex. Come on, Robert." She tugged on his wrist like he was on a leash and pulled him over to a booth, Koon on their tails.

"Here you go, sweeties." FLO tossed some menus down and deposited three cups of plain fizz in front of them once they were seated. "Got dewberry, citron, and vanilla."

"I am happy with plain, thank you." Plo nodded his head at her.

"Dewberry, please." Tano smiled at the droid as she turned her fizz pink, then gave Boba a pointed glare eerily similar to Tiarek's. It said very clearly, behave.

"Citron," Boba said politely.

Tano kept an eye on him as FLO flavored his drink then zoomed off. "Thank you for not cursing at Flo," she said, then took a sip of her drink. She shivered and smiled. "I'm glad Kix isn't here. He never lets me get flavors. Too much sugar."

"I'm aware," Koon said wryly. "I believe in allowing one to make their own choices, and in letting them learn from the consequences of choosing poorly on purpose."

Tano glanced down at her drink, sighed, then switched glasses with Koon.

He worked the straw under his mask and took a pleased sip. "I do enjoy dewberry."

Tano shook her head then looked at Boba. "What did you mean with the 'stealing babies' comment?" she asked.

"That's what you do, isn't it?" Boba chugged half of his fizz and belched like a foghorn. "Go around to planets and steal babies and teach them magic so they can go out and steal more babies for you."

Tano's jaw hung open in shock. "Who… who told you that pile of bantha poodoo?"

Boba shrugged. "Dad. And Kal."

"Kal?"

"Kal Skirata." Boba spun his finger in his drink and licked it. "One of the Cuy'val Dar. Wouldn't suggest trying to dump me on him, though, only thing he gives a shit about are his fucking Nulls." Did he sound bitter?

Tano bit her lip. "Well, we don't steal babies. That's ridiculous. Most of the time their parents are the ones who contact the Jedi in the first place."

"Indeed. Such was the case with Ahsoka's mother." Koon steepled his talons. "I was the one who retrieved her, in fact."

"Emphasis on retrieved. He didn't steal me."

Boba almost felt bad for the Tog, but if her own mother didn't want her then it was probably better that the jetiise had raised her instead. Pity a Mando hadn't found her. She had spunk, even if she was annoying, and Tiarek obviously liked her well enough. He still didn't trust her, but she wasn't a total piece of shit. "Whatever." Boba peered down at the menu. "What's the most expensive thing they have?"

Koon laughed. "Luckily for us, Jedi eat free at Dex's diner."

Boba snorted. "Cheap-ass."

Koon sipped his drink again. "I would have gladly paid at another establishment, young man. I generally decline my stipend, though I will admit as of late to accepting it to use on the boys. I hate to see them only ever eat ration bars." Koon's face softened with a smile.

"You spend your stipend on snacks for the 104th?" Tano grinned. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"Spent some of it on that little number probably getting gutted behind the building right now, too," Boba muttered, reading through the burger selection.

"That belongs to the Temple, Initiate Robert."

Tano clapped a hand over her mouth to contain her laugh.

Boba glared at him then looked back down. "How'd the Temple get a PL-90?"

"If I recall correctly, I believe that one belonged to Ziro the Hutt's collection."

"Alright, what are we in the mood for?" FLO started speaking before she arrived, then she braked hard and spun in front of their table. She held a hand up in front of the Tog's face. "Dex is still searing your garbage plate."

Boba snorted. "Garbage plate?"

"Thick strips of bantha meat, ground roba, and grilled nuna nuggets, plus a whole pile of over-easy eggs." Tano sighed dreamily. "And Dex covers it in his awesome red sauce."

"It looks like ten different plates scraped into the trash," FLO quipped. "Whaddaya want, Robert?"

Boba felt his cheeks burn hot. Fucking Robert. At least the Tog had been smart enough to not yell his name in public, but seriously, Robert? "Banzaii burger with white sauce and extra peppers, rings extra well-done."

Beside him, Tano choked on her fizz for some reason.

"I will take a double portion of steamed bamboo worms, please, with the bam-bam sauce on the side." Koon handed FLO their menus and she zoomed off. He withdrew a small pouch from his robes, removed his mask, and tipped a handful of pebbles into his weird mouth.

Boba suddenly spied a claw game machine over the Kel Dor's shoulder tucked against the back wall. Tano followed his line of sight and started rustling around in her pockets. "Wanna play?" she asked, cocking her head with a little smile.

Well he did, but now if he said yes it would seem like it was because she'd suggested it.

"What if I take off the cuffs?" she suddenly offered, much to Boba's surprise. "Promise not to run?"

Boba shrugged. "You were easy to slip. I don't think Grandpa here will be such a fucking pushover." Also, he was hungry.

"Correct," Koon said, pleased as a po'ackster.

"Then fine." He let Tano uncuff him and she stood to let him out.

"Good luck." She handed him a credit chit. "I don't know how much the game is, but there's ten credits on it."

Boba spied a rancor plushie sitting pretty on top of a pile of porgs. He inserted Tano's credit chit and started to play.

"I was surprised at your reaction, little 'Soka," Koon said. Boba turned his ear towards them as he moved the joystick.

"Reaction to what?"

"My choice of dining establishment."

"Oh. Right. I'm sorry, Master Plo, that was rude of me."

Boba snorted and rolled his eyes. She really was a prim little princess, wasn't she?

"If Master Kenobi had been present, what would you have done?"

Boba dropped the claw on the rancor and picked it up on the first try.

"Skipped dinner," Tano said sullenly.

"Oh Ahsoka, why can you not find it in your heart to forgive him? You must let go of your resentment."

The rancor plushie fell from the claw after a random jerk. "Cheating piece of shit," Boba growled. He slapped the button for a new game, but kept his ears open. Tano wasn't on good terms with Kenobi, eh? Well, he could use that somehow, he'd figure something out.

"I have forgiven him."

"Lying does not become you, my dear."

"I'm not–"

The rancor fell again. Boba smacked the machine and started over.

"It's not just about what he did to me," Tano said quietly. "He destroyed Anakin and he doesn't even care. He just expects us to all go on like he didn't completely flip our world upside down. He said he was 'sorry for causing so much distress,' like distress even comes close to describing it." Tano stared out of the booth's window. "Please don't scold me for my attachment. I had let him go. I had taken comfort in the belief that he was in the Force around me and would always be with me. What I can't stand is the cold callousness of using our grief as his cover, then expecting things to just return as they were before."

"Ahsoka, I would like to meditate on this with you when we have a moment."

"I'd appreciate that, Master."

Boba restarted the game for the fifth time, very close to punching his way through the glass. He picked the rancor up, carefully manipulated it to the edge, it was almost there–

The fucking thing jerked and the rancor fell, but then it bounced unnaturally high off of the head of a raxshir plushie and went over the edge of the chute. Boba whipped his head around.

Tano winked at him and took a sip of his citron fizz.

Notes:

MANDO'A TRANSLATIONS Voy entye, vod'ika: Thank you, little sister dalgaanyc: bitchy Jetii'kad: lightsaber Beskar'gam: armor OTHER NOTES I'm using koh-to-yah as both hello and goodbye, yes 🤘 Yirt: Aurebesh equivalent of Y, but the letter itself is shaped like a V with a little hat lol Introducing Robert Fett Kel Dors are insectivores because I said so, and he has no teeth and a crop like a bird, so the pebbles are how he 'chews' his food.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @soliloquy-of-nemo Dividers: @saradika-graphics

[lonewolflupe]

aLoF Ficlet | Lupe Of Lothal

Here's Lupe's origin story (OR a one-shot about Plo Koon stumbling upon a Force-sensitive youngling). I'm sorry about the lack of conversation in this one, but I really tried to paint a picture of the surroundings and the atmosphere (thus this ficlet doubled the size I intended it to be).

Note: since this ficlet takes place in 40 BBY, Plo Koon is still a Jedi Knight ("By 33 BBY, Koon had achieved the rank of Jedi Master and was elevated to the Jedi High Council." Source: Wookieepedia).

Summary: Jedi Knight Plo Koon investigates a report and stumbles on an unexpected discovery. Rating: Teen and up Tags: Force connection, Force sensitivity, reference to abandonment Words: 1.954k Characters: Plo Koon, Lupe (OC), unidentified captain/flight crew, unidentified villagers aLoF masterlist | AO3 Lupe Of Lothal | > Chapter 1

40 BBY, Outer Rim | Lothal

“Sir, incoming transmission from the Jedi Temple,” the captain informed the Jedi Knight, looking over his shoulder whilst addressing him. The Kel Dor Jedi stood in the Republic Cruiser’s cockpit, a few steps behind the pilots’ seats, as he gazed through the transparisteel viewport. When he heard the captain’s words, he stepped forward and gently placed his four-fingered hand on his shoulder. “Put it through,” the Jedi’s resonant voice replied, a slight buzzing sound to it, caused by the antiox breath mask adorning his face.

“Plo Koon,” the voice over the transmission started, “Are you still present in the Calamari Sector?” The Jedi Knight confirmed their current position, before the voice continued the transmission. “A report was made about the increasing harassment by creatures on settlements, coming from the Lothal System. Sending the coordinates right now.” A quick nod from the captain to let the Jedi Knight know they had received the coordinates; the navigator went to work immediately. “Since you are already located near the system, could you investigate the report?”

And of course Plo Koon accepted the request. There were always more sides to a story, and if he could avoid the loss of innocent lives, either being sentient or non-sentient, he would try to find a humane solution. After all, that was the Jedi way; emphasising compassion and teaching that all lives were precious. And so the Consular-class space cruiser set course to the planet of Lothal.

Once they had made it to the planet’s surface and the Jedi had started to ask around, it hadn’t taken Plo Koon long to find one of the affected locations. They had left urban civilization behind and continued their endeavour towards a rural area. Wrapped in his cloak to shield him from the emerging gusts of wind, he walked from the ship towards the farming settlement. It was surrounded by grasslands as far as the eye could see. It was a soothing view, and by the sight of it, nothing seemed to be amiss.

A flock of prairie-fowl scattered before his feet when Plo Koon reached the settlement’s only road, connecting the few houses the place consisted of. It was quiet outside; he only noticed a Gotal at the other side of the hamlet. The humanoid was bundling together a bale of cut grass, next to a modest corral containing a small herd of nerfs. The Gotal looked up warily when he noticed the Jedi’s presence. Plo Koon approached him cautiously, calmly stating the reason for his arrival. The distinctive short, grey fur on the man’s face surrounded a pair of weary eyes.

Their brief conversation revealed much to the Jedi. Recently, a pair of creatures had started terrorising the normally quiet hamlet. There hadn’t been any casualties; neither the inhabitants nor their livestock had been touched. Instead, the creatures had been taking rather peculiar items from the small village. There had been much debate over the identification of the creatures, but most rumours came back to one species: Loth-wolves.

With his long, taloned fingers, Plo Koon stroked the mask on his face as he stood pondering over his findings. Whilst Loth-wolves had been a problem to Lothal’s earlier farmers, no one had encountered any in nearly a century; they were deemed extinct. The Gotal pointed towards one of the hamlet’s houses, telling the Jedi the home’s resident could tell him more. Plo Koon thanked the man for his time before leaving him to his businesses.

After he had knocked on the door, it took a while before it slid open. Behind it stood an elderly Ithorian lady, her bend back in combination with her angled neck making for an eccentric appearance. She was wearing a somewhat primitive, timeworn translator collar on top of her neck. Plo Koon introduced himself and told her about his earlier conversation with the Gotal. The lady invited him inside, which he accepted so he could get to the bottom of this. She offered him something to drink, which he refused, because he didn’t want her to make any physical effort on his behalf.

Ithorians were known for their long lifespan, and the elderly lady in front of the Jedi was proof of it. She sat down in an old rocking chair, moving back and forth, concurrently with her memories. She told him about her younger days, how she grew up on the plains of Lothal, in a time when Loth-wolves were still an occasional sighting. She told him how the magnificent beasts had rarely ventured out of the Lothalian mountains and the enclosing grasslands, but that they had been slain anyway, out of ignorance and crudeness. Plo Koon could feel a mixture of grace and sorrow as the lady told him about the creatures, reminiscent of a bygone time.

Before continuing his investigation, Plo Koon kneeled down beside the Ithorian to thank her for her honesty and for sharing her memories. Before he could get back on his feet, the lady put her hand on his shoulder and seemed to be looking straight through his goggles. Crackling through her translator came the redeeming words: she had seen the Loth-wolves as a maiden, as a mother, and now, as a crone. She was certain of it; the Loth-wolves had never been away.

Plo Koon let the words sink in as he strolled to the far side of the hamlet. When he reached the last house, he sat down on a crate and let his gaze wander over the vast plains ahead. The gusting wind had died down; only a faint breeze remained. It played with the tall grass, gently brushing it whenever it reached down to the surface. Slowly, the sun set in the distance, and the presence of the twin moons became evident. Where the sun had shone a golden light over the grass, the moons’ light changed it into a velvety silver. There was a serenity to this place; a tranquillity he could only obtain by meditating back in the Jedi Temple.

He closed his eyes, taking in this strange place that felt oddly familiar. A cold blanket crept over the grassland as the night came, and when it reached the Jedi, every exhalation resulted in a small, foggy cloud in front of his breath mask. He felt the coldness creep inside his body, pricking his skin, tickling his senses as they enhanced. He could hear the friction of feathers as the prairie-fowl huddled together to keep warm. He could see the loth-rats nestling in their holes below the grassy surface. He could taste the dew as it formed on the tall grass all around him. He could smell the resin from a faraway spine tree as it dripped down its bark. He could feel..

Suddenly, he could feel their presence. He knew they were right in front of him before he opened his eyes. When he did, he looked upon two magnificent Loth-wolves, towering above him. Both wolves had black fur and were accented with dark, scaly skin, laying in patterns on their face, their feet and their croup, almost like reversed fingerprints. Their bright, amber eyes looked calmly down at him, waiting.

Plo Koon gently arose from the crate, and with a slow motion, almost like a wave, he reached one hand towards the wolf nearest to him. The wolf showed its teeth, but not in a threatening way; it merely tasted the air, the atmosphere. When the Kel Dor’s four-fingered hand was near, the wolf gently moved its head forward, nudging it into the Jedi’s touch. Plo Koon felt a strange sensation deep within, as if they shared something ancient, as if a connection was being made. The wolves seemed content; yes, this was the one they had been waiting for.

The Loth-wolf lay down and looked at the Jedi in anticipation. Without the need to share any spoken words, Plo Koon understood the wolf’s intentions. He walked over to the beast and carefully mounted it. His fingers grasped around tufts of its black fur; tightly enough to keep himself balanced, but gently enough to not bother the creature. As soon as it was back on its feet, both the Loth-wolves turned around and started running. They ran through the tall grass, away from the hamlet, onto the vast, open plains. Plo Koon moved along with the rhythm of the wolf’s movements, gazing into the distance to set eyes on their destination, but there was nothing to be seen. Nothing..

He was dreaming. The stars surrounded him; not just from above, but all around him. Glimpses of his past, memories from long ago. Voices of parental figures, of teachers and mentors, words of wisdom and knowledge descending onto him. Images of former events.. Or visions of future matters? He didn’t know. It felt like he was floating in space, between worlds. Was this really a dream?

Plo Koon woke up at dawn and found himself on the rocky foot of a mountain. It felt like he was waking from a very deep, intense slumber; nothing he had ever experienced before. When he heaved himself up and looked around, the Loth-wolves were nowhere to be seen. When he was taking in these new surroundings, a peculiar sound caught his attention. It was the sound of subdued howling. As he turned into the direction of the sound, his eyes caught a cave entrance not far away. He walked over cautiously, and when he peeked inside, he expected a Loth-wolf pup.

But what he found inside was a different kind of pup; it was a human child. A female, about two years old, her feral, silver hair quite distinctive for a juvenile of the human species. There was dirt smeared all over her skin and she was wearing rags, but furthermore, she seemed healthy. Around her, scattered through the cave, the Jedi noticed the peculiar items that had been taken from the hamlet, such as toys, pieces of clothing, a mug and plate, and remains of fruits and vegetables. He now understood why the Loth-wolves had ventured into the affected settlements.

The child looked up at him, her eyes wide with curiosity and anticipation. There was no sign of fear or restraint. Plo Koon slowly moved forward, kneeling in front of the child and gently offering his hand to her. She took one of his taloned-fingers in her hand, still looking up towards his goggles, his eyes hidden behind them. As soon as their skins touched, he felt a connection. In an instant, he knew what he was already expecting; she was Force-sensitive. “Koh-to-yah, little one,” Plo Koon greeted the child softly, and he noticed a flicker in her eyes. They were as brightly amber as those of the Loth-wolves.

…

When Plo Koon walked out of the cave, the child on his arm, the Loth-wolves had returned. They were waiting for them outside. The Jedi threaded carefully, since he was now carrying their pup, the child they had clearly been taking care of. But the wolves remained at ease, watching the Jedi and the youngling in full anticipation; they had brought Plo Koon to the child with a purpose, after all. He slowly walked past them, thanking them for their compassion and their aid. The child flung herself over his shoulder, watching the wolves as he walked off into the tall grass. As soon as the Jedi had activated the transmitter on his comlink, ready for a pick-up from the Republic Cruiser, an eerie sound behind him caught him off guard. It was the hauntingly beautiful howling of the Loth-wolves, an echoing goodbye song for the child they had cared for. They had now granted him the responsibility of that care.

I read a theory on Reddit stating that Loth-wolves are/carrying the spirits of Jedi that died on Lothal. Plo Koon didn’t die on Lothal obviously, but I like to think he connected with the creatures during this little story, thus making a ‘new’ Loth-wolf appear after his unfortunate demise during Order 66.

[bylightofdawn]

So I'm editing chapter 31 tonight, I'm kinda trying to pre-edit them before my grammarly paid subscription runs out mid April. And I gotta say this scene with Plo Koon is filling my heart with joy.

I just want to hug and squish him. So I'm gonna post a snippet, because why not?

This takes place right after the latest posted chapter where they find out Myles has been kidnapped by Death Watch.

Tyvokka tugged the younger Jedi by the arm a little more distance away so that they could have some privacy. Jaster seemed too involved with what was going on to pay them too much mind.

«He is right. You are too emotionally invested in this situation and making a rash decision. It is unlike you.»

Plo Koon's brow ridges creased even further in a frown.

"They kidnapped someone, Master. Even if Jaster and I had no emotional connection, I would feel obligated to help. Our duty is to protect and assist in times of crisis." The younger Jedi countered.

«He is not a member of the Republic; that is where our duty lies. » Tyokka pointed out with merciless logic. «I understand why you feel compelled to help, my young Padawan, but you must be mindful of your feelings and how they could cloud your judgment.»

The Kel Dor let out a frustrated sigh, which was only further magnified by the antiox mask. "Myles is a good man and doesn't deserve to be tortured or worse at the hands of Death Watch." He stated firmly in his resolve.

"Master, even if he is not a member of the Republic, he is still in danger and has been kidnapped. I will assist them because it is the right thing to do. You taught me to always do the right thing. If you think that means I am compromised because of my relationship with Jaster, then I fear you have lost sight of what our mission is supposed to be. Treaty lines shouldn't dictate who we help."

Tyvokka was surprised and taken aback by the passionate way his former student spoke to him. Worse, he felt shamed because Plo was right, and he instantly regretted his own shortsightedness.

His concern that Plo might be over-invested had clouded his own judgment, but Tyvokka was willing to admit when he was wrong, and he reached out and caught his former student's shoulders in his great hair paws.

«You are right, and I am ashamed to admit I overreacted. It's not every day that the Padawan teaches the Master, but I am proud of the Jedi you have become and, more importantly, the man you have become for being willing to stand by your principles so firmly.»

The mottled color marking Plo Koon's skin darkened to a deeper color in the Kel Dor version of a blush. "Master, you flatter me too much."

«Nonsense, I flatter you the proper amount. Now, go inform your Mandalorian he will have two more people to assist in this crisis while I call the Temple and apprise them of the situation.»

"Master Yoda won't like it."

«I've known Master Yoda for centuries and am less impressed with his rank than you are. I will deal with him.» The Wookie shoved Plo in the direction of Jaster less than gently and wandered back toward the office so that he could make his call in peace.

Jaster looked over at Plo with a strained expression. He hadn't heard their conversation but had read enough of their body language to know they had been arguing.

"I'm assuming Tyvokka tried to talk you out of volunteering for this nerf rodeo?"

"He did, but I pointed out a Jedi's duty is to protect and help in times of crisis."

Somehow, Jaster looked even more pained over that reveal. "Plo… I'm not sure I want you involved in this. The blowback could be bad. I am not going to let Tor Vizsla get away with this. This could reflect poorly on the Jedi Order, and I don't want your position as a Jedi to be endangered in any way."

"We don't do the right thing because it is easy. Sometimes, it is hard and requires sacrifice, but I will stay true to my path just as you would. Even if we were not involved, I would help out because it is the right thing to do and because I will stand by while an innocent man is harmed just because it might be inconvenient. I have faith that the other members of the Jedi Order will see that."

Something complicated and inscrutable flashed across Jaster's face before he leaned up to press their foreheads together in a brief kov'nyn . "I love you so much. And thank you for being the person that you are."

[hxdrostorm]

@sorryobiwan​ has sent: “don’t just stand there, looking at me.” (Plo Koon)

Prompt sent!

The master jedi couldn’t hide his laughter. His antiox mask, amplified the sounds of his deep chuckle and wheezing as he tried to recompose himself, mostly in vain at that point. Plo Koon waved a hand slightly, before he faced away for a moment. Only then, he walked up to Anakin and offered a hand for him to take.

“I apologize, Skywalker.” He responded ever so calmly, his head tilted to the side slightly. But, how exactly were you expecting others to react to your... Spectacular demonstration?”

[holding-hands-and-hearts]

Defining the General

Wolffe wasn’t sure what to make of this general guy.

None of the rest of his men were any better off, though, so Wolffe pretended he had the Jedi all figured out, and watched everyone else’s incredulous glances with the air of someone smug and just so slightly self-important.

In all seriousness, though, he’d met General Koon in the middle of a battle and, at the time, had settled into an odd duality - hanging on the man’s every word, and obstinately ignoring him. It was out of intimidation, and Wolffe knew it, but you’d have to pry the admission from his cold, dead lips.

When the general first spoke to him, really spoke to him, it was in the aftermath of Geonosis. Wolffe’s unpainted armor smelled acrid from the ghost of the beating sun, and red dust caked under the general’s strange metal mask. But his voice was kind, maybe. It was low, and slow, made gravelly by what Wolffe could only assume was the product of that strange brand of Jedi omniscience.

“Commander,” he’d said, and waited for Wolffe to look up. “Get some rest.”

“I’m fine, sir.”

General Koon paused, and regarded him. Something felt raw, exposed, but for once Wolffe couldn’t hate the vulnerability of someone trying to stare into his soul. Maybe it was because the Jedi didn’t have to try. He just watched, it seemed, and something unknown whispered to him the secrets of the galaxy.

“Is it true you have names, Commander?”

And Wolffe blinked, shocked. The realization jolted him - Koon had never once referred to them as anything other than their titles.

Commander.

To Wolffe’s men - Sergeant.

Corporal.

Captain.

Lieutenant.

He had never once called them by their numbers, as if that ever-present Jedi omniscience had told him they were something more. Like he knew.

Unfeelingly, Wolffe confirmed it, and told Plo Koon his name.

“Please,” the general said again. “Get some rest, Wolffe.” And the commander couldn’t bring himself to deny the request.

They seemed to come to some kind of understanding, after that. Even if Wolffe hadn’t been able to figure out the general, the general figured out him, able to read his body language and deduce his preferences before Wolffe had a chance to voice them. Koon seemed to simply know - that Wolffe hated pincer maneuvers, and that he lacked patience for incompetence, he was loyal to the point of anger, that after a battle he needed some time to be protective, and that he inked his shinies’ names onto the inside of his chestplate where no one could see them.

Something about it made Koon hard to distrust.

It took Wolffe longer to be able to say he knew the general. Sometimes, he’d think he did, and the next moment the man would be shrouded again in mystery. He had an air that Wolffe couldn’t read, hanging around him like ethereal twists of something beyond description.

But occasionally, Wolffe would catch himself in the act, something automatic already half-done. He’d be putting polishing oil on the manifest, or cataloguing when they’d have access to an antiox room, or something, and of course it was for Koon. He’d sit down and eat a full meal, and halfway through he’d realize that it was because otherwise Plo would stare at him until Wolffe gave in.

Slowly, Wolffe’s mind began to define him. Plo Koon was the man who rested a knowing hand on a grief-stricken back, who never used pincer maneuvers purely because of Wolffe’s vendetta, who didn’t complain at the smell when Boost didn’t bathe and let tired shinies sleep on his shoulders.

When Wolffe woke up in the medbay with searing pain in his eye, Koon was there, with quiet words and quiet strength and an unspoken vow that seemed to soak into Wolffe’s bones.

Maybe Plo Koon wasn’t so difficult to understand because he was a Jedi. Maybe it was because he cared - because he cared, for them. They weren’t supposed to be cared for.

Wolffe never had someone care before.

So he pretended he had this general guy figured out, and, after a while, maybe he did.

*******

I have hit (and now surpassed?!) 104 followers, which is a thing that I completely did not anticipate. I'm kind of in shock that so many people have seen and appreciated the work I do - it inspires me, and warms my heart, that you've enjoyed these bits of twisted language I share.

So, naturally, this was a perfect excuse to post about the Wolfpack. I finally figured them out you guys I'm so excited

Starting, of course, with Plo Koon adopting the entire battalion in front of Wolffe's very eyes.

Love you all 💕

Taglist: @justasigh37 @sexy-rex @handsignals

[samspenandsword]

NSFW Alphabet: Plo Koon

Summary: NSFW Alphabet for everyone’s favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon.  Pairing: Plo Koon/reader; gender-neutral, humanoid reader with no mentions of their appearance.  Rating: Explicit, 18+ (Younglings, foundlings, and cadets BEGONE!) Warnings: Explicit sexual content, smut; mentions of penetrative sex, creampies, oral sex (m!receiving), toy use, praise kink, daddy kink, roleplay, voice kink, corruption, Kel Dor anatomy headcanons, established relationships, secret relationships, language. Word Count: 2.5k

I know this took a while to get out, but I hope you all enjoy my Plo Koon alphabets!

You can find the template I used here

SFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

The aftercare is almost as amazing as the sex itself. This man will take such good care of you it sometimes feels like a dream. You literally cannot imagine — massages, sweet nothings, warm baths, snacks, snuggles. You are pampered and well-taken care of every single time. You will want for nothing. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Plo’s favorite part of his body is his hands. For a long time he wasn’t really partial to them, but after meeting you, he came to appreciate them. You so clearly adore his hands and practically melt into goo each time he gives you a scalp massage. But Plo’s favorite feature of yours is your eyes — because despite the fact that his own eyes are usually hidden behind his antiox mask, he always feels you can see straight through the mask and into his own eyes, locking your gazes and being able to convey everything you feel in a single glance. Subtly is the name of the game for your relationship, and meaningful eye contact is one of his favorite ways to show affection. Not to mention he loves how wide your eyes get when you’re turned on. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Plo cums a lot. So much so that if he cums inside you, you are pooching and leaking. And if he cums on your chest, it is everywhere. You guys have to change the sheets of your bed every time you’re intimate because of how much Plo cums. And his preferred place to cum is inside you. He loves being buried inside you, and staying inside you. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Plo loves the idea of you not wearing underwear after you’ve been intimate. The image of you with his cum leaking down your thighs, especially if you’re in a meeting or in a public place, is an idea that literally plagues him, and by Force, he is not mad about it. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Plo’s a Jedi, so he’s not the most experienced guy on the block. Not physically. Especially because his physiological needs are so different from most other species. His experience is emotional — Plo is not a model Jedi when it comes to attachments and emotions — he is openly caring and kind, in a way many Jedi aren’t. And he has no qualms about whispering romantic words to you, or giving you caring, gentle embraces. To the point where, even in the beginning, you never doubted that he cared deeply for you. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves when he’s reclined back against a mountain of pillows, you laying against his chest. From there, he can rock his hips into you, one hand stroking over your hair, or leaving light red lines down your chest (his version of hickies and love bites), the other hand resting firmly on the bulge in your stomach. And from this position, he can murmur the sweetest, dirtiest praises in your ears. “You’re doing so well, little one.” “I can feel you pulsing around me, you feel so good.” “Are you going to cum, little one?” Bonus points if there’s a mirror across the room, and Plo makes you watch as he fucks up into you, pinning your hips against his and simply holding you in place as he alternates between pistoning his hips in and out, and rocking so slowly you’re squirming for more. Extra bonus points if you’re cockwarming him in this position too, it’s a good way for him to plug his cum inside you after a long session. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Plo isn’t above teasing, amusement riddling his tone, his talons tickling up and down your skin, but he tends to be more serious in the moment. Being intimate with you is kind of rare with the war going on, so he wants to savor the moment for as long as he can, making sure you never doubt how much he loves you, how much he desires you. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Kel Dors don’t really have hair, not anywhere, so there’s nothing for him to groom. However, Plo does take pride in keeping other aspects of his appearance neat — his robes, the painted symbol of the Wolfpack on his vambraces. And he melts each and every single time you notice and appreciate this. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Plo can be so romantic it aches. Gentle praises, deep, thorough thrusts, gentle caresses. Even when he’s rougher, even when he’s teasing you, it’s never without a blatant undertone of care and affection.

J = Jack off (masterbation headcanon)

Not much, if ever. As a Jedi, it’s part of his training and lifestyle to ignore physical stimuli and needs. He can control his urges better than anyone you’ve ever met before. But that’s not to say when he gets back from a several-months-long campaign he’s not going to be inside you the first chance he gets. And when the two of you first start becoming intimate, before you can fully take him because of his sheer size, he’ll often masturbate during your sessions together. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Hoh, boy. Where to start (daddy kink daddy kink). I’m inclined to think that Plo has a bit of a corruption kink — turning his sweet love into a mewling, horny, cockdumb mess. Through dirty talk, through edging, through teaching even. He also has a praise kink. In fact, there are times when you’re together that he never seems to shut up. He’ll babble about how good you feel, how warm and soft and pretty you are speared on his cock. He’ll pet and shush you as he stretches you open, massaging your thighs as they tremble with the force of your orgasm. He gets off from giving praise as much as you get off receiving it. Plo is also into roleplay. Not fully-blown, with costumes and props, but using titles instead of names, pretending it’s your first time together, him narrating a scenario as he’s fully sheathed inside you, causing you to squirm and whine. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

In private. No doubt. As a Jedi, his relationship with you is in direct violation of the Code, and since he sits on the Jedi Council, he ensures he’s even more careful to keep your relationship private. Especially if you are a Jedi as well. In public, the both of you will appear as nothing more than good friends and comrades, keeping your true feelings locked in the Force until you’re able to be alone. And by alone, I mean you will be away from the Jedi Temple most of the time — always a chance someone could walk by your quarters and get a hint of what’s happening. You both won’t risk it. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Domesticity. Plo is a total sucker for seeing you do regular, everyday chores. Domestic intimacy and trust absolutely gets him going. You could literally be folding laundry, a holoseries playing in the background, and Plo will suddenly be all over you. Being surrounded by the ins and outs of domestic, civilian life is something he rarely gets to experience, and he loves that you trust him enough to share that side of your life with him. He might even someday admit that he wonders, while deep in hyperspace between campaigns, what it would be like to live such a calm, monotonous life. He also gets lowkey turned on with direct eye contact. All you have to do is lock eyes with him and you’ll suddenly be on your back in bed. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Exhibitionism is something that Plo sometimes fantasizes about, but would never actually participate in. Between his station as a Jedi (and maybe yours as well) he won’t risk the both of you being discovered. Another really big turn off for him is an open or casual relationship. The man is all-in, as the relationship is forbidden for him, and he doesn’t at all like the idea of you not being similarly dedicated. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Due to his anatomy, he can’t really perform oral on you. Even if you put on a breathing mask, his face and mouth shape doesn’t really allow for him to go down on you. He makes up for it with his fingering and handjob games however. And while he’ll never say no to a blowjob, he knows he’s a lot to handle. So he never wants you to feel like you’re obligated to pleasure him this way, especially because he can’t return it. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Plo can go either way. He leans towards more slow and sensual, especially at first when you aren’t used to his size and shape, but as the two of you become more and more familiar with each other, he’s happy to up the pace. Plo will pound you until you literally cannot walk if you truly want that, and he’s going to enjoy seeing you go dumb and drooly as he does so. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He’s not really a fan of quickies for a couple of reasons. One of the main reasons is that Plo simply wants to be able to fall into you and every sensation you both get to feel with the other, and quickies don’t really allow for that. Another reason is that he is HUGE. Like, there needs to be some serious foreplay and preparation, huge. His size and quickies do not mix. Third reason is because he cums a ridiculous amount, and quickies don’t allow for the cleanup time often needed after a session with him. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Overall, Plo doesn’t get terribly wild in bed. He’s absolutely willing to discuss possible scenarios with you, or things the both of you may be interested in trying, but overall I don’t see Plo being the most adventurous in bed. Sex isn’t just sex to him, it’s definitely a physical expression of his devotion and love for you, and he values that aspect more than any other. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go? how long do they last?)

Plo has stamina like you wouldn’t believe. He can go for a round, usually two, but he’s going to make those rounds last. His self-control is absurd. His Jedi stamina and endurance is seriously crazy. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Plo doesn’t own toys at first, but when the two of you first start becoming physically intimate, they become one of the first things he buys, along with lube. Due to his size and different anatomy, you need to train before you can take him. He buys a series of plugs and dildos, ones that go up in size until you can eventually take one almost identical to his size and shape (yes, there are Kel Dor dildos out there for the millions and millions of alien fuckers in the galaxy, don’t deny it. He nearly pissed himself laughing while he was researching because he came across a Space-Etsy shop for alien dildos. One of them was a huge orange butt plug called Master Plug Koon. He just barely resisted the urge to buy it. He did not, however, resist the urge to send the shop to Kit Fisto, who also pissed himself laughing. The shop has other Jedi-themed toys, including a green, fist-shaped toy called Master Kit Fister, and Kit immediately bought one and he keeps it as a decoration in his apartments. He fist-bumps it on the regular. Only Plo knows what it really is, though Obi-Wan has his suspicions.). After that, the toys don’t get used as much, but Plo’s happy to leave them with you for when he’s deployed on long missions. 

U = Unfair (do they like to tease)

He will tease, when the mood hits. But he’s not cruel. He’ll edge you, he’ll ask you, sounding more than a little cheeky, if you want to cum, he’ll ask you how much you’ve missed him and his cock. But every tease and edge has an undertone of care and affection, because that’s just how Plo is. 

V = Volume (how loud are they, what sounds they make, etc.)

Plo’s not terribly loud in the sense of moans, or groans, but he can be quite vocal if he knows you’re into it. And with a voice like his, who isn’t into it? He can get quite vocal in the moment, endlessly praising you, whispering dirty things into your skin, humming smugly in that deep voice of his as you whimper and writhe around him. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Plo sleeps with an absolute mountain of pillows, and loves to create nests around the two of you during intimacy. When he’s rougher, however, pillows tend to fall to the ground in piles or get torn to shreds due to his claws. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Holy hell Plo is HUGE. Bulbous, ridged, girthy, AND stupidly long. This man is just enormous. Foreplay is the name of the game with you guys, and oftentimes, he’ll need to make you cum at least once, preferably twice before he can slide into you. And even then, the stretch is incredible. Plo fills you and stretches you in ways no other partner has been able to before. When you first started becoming intimate, you needed to train before you could take him completely. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I headcanon Plo as having a Goldilocks-esque sex drive. Just right. Right in the middle of the scale. As a Jedi (and a Kel Dor one), physical intimacy is something he didn’t really grow up with. His Jedi training also lends itself to him being able to go long periods without getting desperately, desperately horny. However, with that said, as soon as your relationship turns physical, he is happy to be with you at every chance he gets, and it helps that he can sense when you’re in the mood. But Plo also appreciates and looks forward to each non-sexual moment you two have together. Every moment of your relationship is something precious to him. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Plo will always, and I mean always, make sure you fall asleep first. That’s just who he is. He will never fall asleep before ensuring that you are 100% sated, comfortable, and cleaned up. So as soon as you fall asleep, he’ll settle beside you and allow himself to sleep as well. But only after you’ve fallen asleep first.

______________

Taglist: @frietiemeloen @rintheemolion​ @lovemesomekpop​ @808tsuika @panagiasikelia​ 

If you want to join my taglist, just let me know or fill out my form!

[dukeofqueers]

I got possessed by feelings late at night so enjoy this sketch made in a haze despite my crippling artblock. Don't ask me how they're nearly the same heights i guess Jaster is standing on a box.

My terrible non-revised writing for this is under the cut:

Plo allows Jaster to gently catch a hand around his nape, pulling him forward into a mirshmure'cya. For a moment, the rest of the sounds in the hangar fade away into a quiet lull and Plo lets himself breathe in tandem with his partner, sort through his worry.

He brings his taloned hands to Jaster's sides, the claw-guards clinking against the plates of painted beskar until both of his hands are resting comfortably against the Mandalorian's ribs. He shivers slightly when Jaster's gloved thumbs brush against the soft, thin underside of his head in return.

It's a show of trust they're both familiar with, an exchange they repeat each time they let the other touch their most vulnerable sides.

"I'll call you once we're back," Jaster murmurs in the short space between them, "We can celebrate together then."

It isn't voiced like a question, but Plo hears the silent inquiry anyway. "Of course, I'll be waiting for you and Jango."

He smiles softly at the wave of unaltered affection that Jaster exudes immediately at his reply.

There is a tense quality to the Force that Plo can't quite understand, but it isn't an unusual display. It's the kind of feeling that permeates the very air around them each time they have to part ways, yet this time it seems much more potent.

Jaster's grip is firm and warm, and Plo can feel how each of his heartbeats says I love you, I love you, I love you, a chant that his own echo without any hesitation.

He hears someone's modulated voice somewhere behind Jaster, he recognizes it as a call even if he can't understand all of the words. Jaster's head tilts only ever so slightly upon hearing it, listening, but doesn't let go- pulls Plo ever so slightly closer to him even.

"I'll see you soon, ner kar'ta." He promises, and lets his hands slowly slip away from Plo's nape while the taloned hands remain hooked in the creases of his flightsuit for a moment longer.

"I love you." Plo says as Jaster allows himself to linger and press a kiss to one of the many embed patterns of Plo's antiox mask.

Jaster's smile is soft as he finally lets go, but Plo sees the sadness in his eyes as he looks at his partner as if committing him to memory. Plo knows that he is. "I love you even more," he replies with something close to his usual cheekiness, Plo chuckles quietly.

Other Haat'ade warriors start to pool into the hangar, and Plo watches as Jaster puts his helmet back on, shoulders his rifle and joins his people. No one will ask Plo to leave, so still he remains until the last of the ships leave for Korda Six.

And he starts waiting.

I want to say, from the bottom of my heart: Oops?

[sw5w]

A Vergence, You Say?

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:25:08

[monako-jinn-stories]

Ahh thank you all for 104 followers! In honor of this mark, I am posting a little Wolffepack fluff.

Also, check out this amazing art that I requested from @three-fold-symmetry

They’re just so cute🥺 the Wolffepack is my favorite battalion by far (besides my OC battalion, of course)

This is also my first attempt at a gender neutral reader, I thought it would be better to represent all my followers!

Master List

A Visit from the Wolves

Wolffepack/Plo Koon X Gender Neutral Jedi Reader

It had been a long battle. The men of the 104th were tired and dirty. They were also hungry, having not had time to eat for the three days the fighting had lasted. Even Plo Koon was as exhausted as his men, having fought by their side the entire time.

“Har’chaak,” Wolffe said, causing Plo to look in his direction.

“What is it, Commander?”

“We need to refuel, General. We don’t have nearly enough to make it to Coruscant.”

“Hmmm. What is the closest planet?”

“Dohbar,” Wolffe responded after looking at the map. He perked up slightly when he said this. “That’s where General Jinn is from, isn’t it?”

“Indeed it is. I’m sure we would be welcome guests there if we stopped by. Y/n might even try to throw a party for us, if they are there,” Plo chuckled smoothly.

“Should I tell the admiral to head there?”

“Yes, Wolffe, please do.”

“Yes, sir,” he nodded before going to find the admiral, a new skip in his step. Plo smiled under his mask, thinking of how excited the rest his troopers would be when they saw you.

You were sitting in your garden, enjoying the nice sunny day when you saw the Venator slowly fly into view. You recognized it as Plo’s and jumped up excitedly at the unexpected visit.

“Plo!” You said as you burst into the hanger, seeing him and his troops exit the ship.

“What are you doing here? Not that I don’t want you, I’m just surprised!”

“We were running very low on fuel and I thought it would be nice to pay a visit to your home. You know I haven’t been here in a while,” he replied smoothly.

“Yes, it’s been far too long. And how’s the big bad Wolffe doing?” You tease as you glance behind Plo.

“Not too bad, General Jinn. Just a bit tired, that’s all.” You brought your brows together as you saw the bags under his eyes and the slight hollow to his cheeks.

“When was the last time you all ate?” You questioned.

“About four days ago,” Warthog said as he approached you.

“Four days?!” You nearly shrieked. “Maker! Go, take showers. All of you smell. Yes, even you, Plo,” you said as he gave you a look. “When you’re done, dinner will be ready.”

“Ah, you don’t have to do all that just for us,” Sinker said.

“Quiet, Sinker. Let them do what they want for us!” Boost said while giving his brother a look. You laughed to yourself at the boys. Boost loved your cooking, and he clearly wasn’t going to let his brother take away his chance at having more of it.

“Go on,” you said, shooing everyone away, Plo staying behind to talk to you. “I said you too, Plo.”

He chuckled to himself before he pulled you into his grasp. You sighed contently at the warmth emitting through the force.

“I’m glad you’re safe,” you mumbled into his chest. He hummed in response as he traced your back with a talon. You stood quietly in his embrace for a few minutes, enjoying the comfort of having him back with you.

“You still smell,” you joked as you pulled back slightly, looking up at where his eyes were covered by his goggles.

“I believe I recall you saying you enjoy my scent, my dear,” he countered playfully.

“Yeah, when you don’t smell like this. Now go, take a shower. I need to cook for your troops.”

“Whatever you desire, my dear,” he said before resting his forehead against yours. This was you little way of kissing, as he couldn’t exactly kiss you. You placed a gentle kiss on his antiox mask before pulling out of his arms and heading to the kitchen.

“Kriffing… Hells… Maker…” Boost said as he shoveled his food into his mouth. “General Jinn, I swear you never fail to make the best meals.”

You laughed as you watched him scarf down his plate, Sinker side eyeing his brother.

“Glad to hear it, Boost.” He gave you a thumbs up before he reached to get seconds. Plo sat beside you, fondly looking at all his men as they filled themselves up. The smell of soap and shampoo was overpowering, but you didn’t mind as long as they were happy.

“How’s the 17th been, General?” Wolffe said from Plo’s other side.

“They’re doing well. Sans still hasn’t forgotten the drink you promised him.”

Wolffe chuckled before responding. “Well, tell your commander that he better be ready to go out when I get back to Coruscant. I’m dragging him straight to 79’s.”

“Not until after the mission debrief,” Plo casually commented.

“Of course, sir,” Wolffe said.

“How was the mission?” You asked, glancing at Plo.

“It went well, my dear. It was a long few days of fighting, but in the end we were able to overcome our enemy.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” You left the question of casualties alone. You could tell by the actions of some troopers that they had lost some close brothers. Instead you decided to talk about casual things. Well, casual for clones, such as what new weapons they’ve been wanting or new strategies to test out. Once everyone finished eating, you all agreed to go to an empty room and watch a holovideo. Half of the troopers piled onto a couch, squeezing until they were all elbows in ribs. They of course stuck you in the middle, making sure you were surrounded by their love. The others sat in front of it on the floor, sprawled out in a multitude of positions.

The only person awake at the end of the holovideo was Plo. He looked up from his spot on the floor to see your new position. He smiled when he saw how comfortable you were with his boys. You had moved so you were sideways on the couch, legs draped over Sinker’s lap as you leaned into Boost’s chest. Your arm hung down to loosely rest around the little Wolffe who was sitting in front of your spot on the couch. You moved slightly in your sleep, face nuzzling deeper into Boost’s chest, causing him to wrap his arms around you and pull you impossibly closer. Your legs also shifted in Sinker’s lap, and he gently placed his hands on top of them. Wolffe moved so that your hand would be in his hair, and in your sleep you began to gently run your fingers through it. Plo smiled a massive grin, though it was mostly hidden by his antiox mask. He took out a cam to capture the moment before he went to leave the room.

“Buir?” He heard a rough and tired voice call. He looked back to see Warthog covering a yawn. He waved Plo back over, moving so that he could have a spot on the couch between him and Comet. Plo’s heart swelled even more for his Wolffepack. He quietly made his way back over and settled down, Comet and Warthog both immediately snuggling up to his side. He heard a small giggle and looked over to see you watching him. You gave him a smile before closing your eyes again, falling back asleep surrounded by Plo’s Bros.

Tag list. Let me know if you want to be added!

@imabeautifulbutterfly @lightning-wolffe @namesmox

[mortallyclearwonderland]

Star Wars Alien Species - Kel Dor

Dorin was a dark and dusty planet in the Expansion Region. It was the homeworld of the Kel Dors, with an atmosphere of a unique gas and helium.

The planet was situated between two black holes, making access to the planet limited, while space travel for the natives was highly dangerous. Dorin's atmosphere contained very little oxygen, and barely supported life, although some flora did exist on the planet. This atmosphere mix affected the evolution of the Kel Dor, requiring them to wear antiox breath masks to filter out oxygen while off-world. Likewise, many non-Kel Dors visiting Dorin would have to wear breath masks of their own for the gases they required. Humans, however, could survive at least a short time in the atmosphere without suffering any ill effects.

The Kel Dors were aware of and used the Force long before they joined the Galactic Republic and the Jedi. This proud Force tradition was known as the Baran Do Sages. The Baran Do Sages often acted as advisers to rich and powerful Kel Dor families. Initially, their powers centered on weather-prediction, but as the Baran Do Sages learned more about the Force, they realized they had an affinity for detecting, and subsequently preventing, dangerous events. Wars and disasters were often averted simply by the insight of a Baran Do Sage. After joining the Republic, the Baran Do Sages dwindled in power and number, due to the Jedi's greater knowledge of the Force, and their taking of Force-sensitive infants. Those Kel Dors who were even aware of their existence considered them to be eccentric wizards. Some traditional families still sent Force-sensitive children to learn from them, however. Because of their obscurity, the Sages managed to escape the Great Jedi Purges, for the most part, unscathed.

Kel Dors were noted for their simple approach to justice, and they typically saw moral issues in black and white. On the one hand, the Kel Dor were noted for their hospitality, they would never turn away a stranger in need. Yet, Kel Dors were not averse to taking the law into their own hands, and had no compunctions about putting to death a thief who was merely stealing to feed himself.

Kel Dor surnames, like Human surnames, were based on ancient family trades or jobs, or even a description of a particularly famous Kel Dor in the family. The Koon family name, for example, meant 'explorer'.

Kel Dor given names were based, loosely, on the sounds generated by Dorin's unique atmospheric phenomena. This tradition was highly popular among the Kel Dors, and the upper classes considered it bad luck to name a child away from Dorin. Kel Dor names tended to be short, usually monosyllabic, due to an ancient superstition about the "wind spirits" of Dorin. Upon hearing the sustained wind-sound of a long name, so the story went, the wind spirits would have mistaken the child for one of their own, and carried him or her off to be raised as a wind-child. No one believed in this myth for thousands of years, but the effect it had on Kel Dor naming conventions remained.

The tradition of using the sounds of atmospheric phenomena meant that Kel Dor given names appeared to have almost no meaning to an outsider, but another Kel Dor who had heard the sound in question and could identify the phenomenon would understand the significance and meaning of the name.

Likewise, objects and techniques were often named after their purpose or effect. For example, the Baran Do Force technique ayna-seff, which caused brain activity to become undetectable, translated to "dead brain" in Galactic Basic Standard.

Dorin joined the Galactic Republic in 5975 BBY, and had direct representation in the Galactic Senate. Because so many Jedi came from Dorin, the Republic funded the construction of an enclave on the planet. The atmosphere limited the regular students to Kel Dor, although many Jedi of other species visited the enclave to learn from the Kel Dor masters. While its isolation allowed the planet to remain unharmed by the Old Sith Wars, nearly all Jedi at the enclave on Dorin were killed by Sith assassins following the Jedi Civil War. During the New Sith Wars, the planet was the site of a battle won by the Sith.

During the Clone Wars, General Grievous led an attack on Dorin, but the Galactic Republic defeated his forces.

Dorin fell within space controlled by the Galactic Empire during the Hunt for Zsinj of 7–8 ABY and was within the core territory of Grand Admiral Thrawn's confederation during his campaign against the New Republic in 9 ABY. Dorin was outside of Imperial space by the following year, during which it was attacked by Imperial forces as part of an offensive by the reborn Emperor Palpatine's alliance of Imperial factions. Dorin later joined the New Republic, and the Baran Do engaged in contact and exchange with the New Jedi Order.

During the Yuuzhan Vong War, the planet fell into the hands of the invaders. After 35 ABY, the territory of the Imperial Remnant expanded, and Dorin was within the borders of the Remnant during the Second Galactic Civil War of 40–41 ABY. In 43.5 ABY, Luke and Ben Skywalker traveled to Dorin to consult the Baran Do and their involvement in Jacen Solo's fall to the dark side.

Early in the reign of the Darth Krayt's Galactic Empire, Dorin was blockaded by the Imperial Navy. The Sith then ordered that the best and brightest of Kel Dor offer their service to the Empire, or their people would suffer. As a result many Kel Dor entered the Imperial service, though the blockade remained in place. A secret route onto the world, called the Dorin Run, was discovered by smugglers, though it lay so close to the black holes, that all but the most reckless considered it too dangerous to use.

Their skin ranged in color from peach to a crimson red. Most had dark, black eyes, although some were born with silver irises, a mark that was often seen as an affinity for the Force.

Kel Dors were, as a whole, considered an unattractive species due to their strange facial structure. Their noses were described as falling short of becoming a beak, with a gaping opening that descended to the mouth, a toothless chasm with drooping fleshy strands. In place of teeth, Kel Dor had an upper and lower hard-palate, visible only when they pulled their lips back. Framing their head were extrasensory organs which terminated in small black tusks.

Due to Dorin having a unique atmosphere composed of helium and a gas unique to their world, the Kel Dors were forced to wear an antiox breath mask and protective goggles whenever in atmospheres of a different composition. This equipment protected them from carbon dioxide, nitrogen, and oxygen, which were fatal to a Kel Dor. The breathing mask also helped to amplify the Kel Dor's voice, as they were forced to shout to produce any sound when out of their native atmosphere. Without their protective goggles, Kel Dors were considered effectively blind when away from Dorin. They were also able to survive in the vacuum of space for a short time, though it was unknown exactly how long they could withstand it.

The Kel Dors also had heightened reflexes, a result of the extrasensory organs in their heads. As a species, they were thought to be typically quick and wise, but of a weaker constitution, when compared to other species. Kel Dors were also said to communicate with their minds using a form of telepathy. This form of telepathy was thought to be a Force technique known only among the masters of the Baran Do order, but was later exposed to be a lie spread by the Baran Do sages.

The average Kel Dor stands between 1.6 and 2 meters or 5.2 and 6.6 feet tall and weighs 70 kilograms or 154 pounds.

Kel Dor age at the following stages:

1 - 11 Child

12 - 15 Young Adult

16 - 44 Adult

45 - 59 Middle Age

60 - 69 Old

Examples of Names: Dorn Tlo, Plo Koon, Sha Koon, Torin Dol.

Languages: Kel Dor, or Kel Dorian, was the native language of the Kel Dor species from Dorin. Most Kel Dor were fluent in both Kel Dor and Basic, preferring to use Basic over their own language when away from their homeworld due to oxygen atmospheres making it more difficult to understand. It was easier to speak the language when in Dorin's atmosphere, though this did not prevent some non-Kel Dor from learning the language. Vylanthar Merric and Commander Doel Scherp both had learned the language, as well as the Jedi Bultar Swan and Ahsoka Tano.

[ahsokryze]

I’ve been having snips, skyguy and papa plo feels, so here’s a little drabble i wrote this morning...

read on ao3

summary: Plo brings Anakin and Ahsoka back to his quarters after he finds them both fast asleep in the refectory.

~~~

As Plo Koon made his way down to the refectory, the dim lit halls of the temple were all but abandoned, spare for one or two nocturnal Jedi passing by who naturally preferred to be awake at this hour. So when the Kel Dor opened the refectory doors, he hadn’t expected to see Anakin Skywalker and Ahsoka Tano sitting slumped over a table in the middle of the room.

"Skywalker," Plo said, brushing a hand over the young Knight's dark blonde curls, once he made it over to the single occupied table. Other than the Master and Padawan pair—who, Plo now realised, were both fast asleep—the room was empty, filled only with the sound of soft snores and the occasional clang and mechanical whirr of service droids cleaning up in the kitchen.

Anakin slowly shifted under the Jedi Master's clawed hand before he sleepily sat up, rubbing his eyes. Plo moved round the side of the table, to where Ahsoka was leaned over, her head resting on her arms, which were folded on the surface in front of her.

"Little 'soka?" he whispered, running his fingers over the young Togruta's white and blue striped lekku. Ahsoka shifted, blinking sleepily, before sitting up and rubbing her eyes; mirroring what Anakin had just done moments before. Plo would have laughed if the room wasn't so quiet. Those two had become so alike that even in sleep they seemed to reflect each other’s actions. It brought a warm feeling to his heart.

"M'ster Plo?" Ahsoka slurred, groggily. She squinted up at the Kel Dor for a moment, before her eyes drooped shut and she settled her head back down against the table with a sigh.

Plo smiled under his antiox mask as he once again stroked Ahsoka's lekku. It seemed these two must have just come back from a mission and were too tired to make it back to their quarters after they had come down to the refectory to have a late night snack.

"Come here, little 'soka," he said, as he lifted Ahsoka out of her seat and into his arms. Ahsoka settled her head on his shoulder with a content hum, before her breaths deepened and she seemed to fall back asleep. Plo then moved round to Anakin's side of the table and helped the sleepy Jedi up to his feet, keeping a gentle hand on his back as he silently guided them out of the refectory.

Since it was very late, and since Master Kenobi was away on a mission, Plo decided it would be best to take the two Jedi back to his quarters with him. Carrying a sleeping Ahsoka in his arms, and guiding a practically sleepwalking Anakin by his side, the Jedi Master made his way through the marble halls, up the stairs and all the way to his apartment door.

Inside his quarters, Plo helped the two younger Jedi get settled on the couch. When he came back after retrieving a few blankets and pillows from the other side of the room, Plo found that Ahsoka was now lying partly on top of Anakin, hugging his legs, while Anakin had laid down with his head resting on the arm of the couch. Anakin’s eyes were closed—he was already falling back asleep.

"Rest now, young one," Plo whispered, slipping a pillow under Anakin's head, gently carding his fingers through his curls. Anakin let out a soft hum, then with all the gentleness the Kel Dor could muster, Plo carefully lifted Ahsoka off of Anakin’s legs and layed her across the other side of the couch, tucking the other pillow snugly under her lekku. He draped a few blankets over the pair, taking care to tuck the fabric in extra tightly around the Togruta's shoulders; it was something he had always done for Ahsoka whenever the girl would come to his quarters to rest.

"Goodnight little 'soka," he whispered.

Then, as the gentle sound of the young Master and Padawan's deep and even breaths filled the darkened quarters, Plo reclined in the chair across from the sofa and sunk into a deep meditation, waiting for the sun to rise as his children the young Jedi slept in peace.

~~~

[bylightofdawn]

Schmoopy JasPlo fluff

Okay, I'm kinda lowkey melting while writing this scene so I figured I would share it even though it's technically not WIP Sunday.

It's just tooth-rotting fluff. But I feel like Jaster and Plo have reached a relationship milestone and I am loving it. Standard warnings, it's rough and unedited, might end up changed by the end etc etc.

Also might give you diabetes by proxy. I also think I'm calling chapter 23 at that. It's a little shy of 5K but eh it'll do pig. Updated word count is 112,960. Sweet baby Jesus.

“Solid copy, cyar'ika.” He said, somehow managing to dredge of a smile as he pulled back enough to press a kiss to the ridges on Plo’s forehead. “Thank you, for showing up when I needed you.”

“I will always strive to be here for you if I am able, naas te anasthin.”

Jaster let his hand fall away from the back of Plo’s neck as he stepped back a bit but because he still craved physical connection, he reached out to take the Jedi’s hand in his. “That’s pretty, what does that mean?”

He often sprinkled Mando’a terms of affection in when talking to Plo because it felt right but he’d rarely heard the Kel Dor speak in his own native tongue. Apparently there was a level of harmonics that required a Kel Dorin’s unique mouth and vocal-chord structure to achieve. Even the phrase Plo used trailed off in a sort of sibilant manner Jaster didn’t think he’d be able to emulate easily.

The Mandalorian watched as the dappled mottling of color that was smattered across Plo’s head darkened in that tell-tale version of a flush.

“Ah, it’s…” The Kel Dor’s explanation trailed off for a moment as he searched for the appropriate words. “It holds some significance in my culture. I may be taking some liberties by using it though, I suspect you feel the same as I do.”

“Plo? If your vows and duties as a Jedi didn’t forbid it, I would have proposed to you months ago that we exchange the vows of the riduurok. I’m in love with you. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you here because I’m not. I’m pretty damned happy with where we are. But I definitely love you and feel pretty damned deeply for you”

“Me as well, you make me happy and I appreciate and trust when you tell me you would never put me in a position where our love might interfere with my vows or my duties as a Jedi.” Plo curled his fingers around his and squeezed them gently. “In my language, it roughly translates as ‘breath of my lungs’ and it signifies an emotional closeness and intimacy you would generally only share with your chosen mate.”

Love for the Kel Dor swelled in his chest to an almost unbearable level.

“That’s really beautiful. We would use ner kar'ta. Our hearts. We’d generally use that with our riduur so it holds a similar sentiment.” He brought Plo’s hand up to press against omnipresent hexagonal piece built into his cuirass. “This is the heart piece that’s built into nearly every Mando’ade armor.”

It was hard to read the Kel Dor’s expression a lot of the time considering half his face was obscured by the antiox mask but Plo managed to convey a sense of wonderment when he traced his talons along that piece of beskar. “I had no idea, that is rather romantic that your people would choose to wear your metaphorical hearts on your chests.”

“It translates to the iron heart so, take that as you will. Even when we are at our most poetic, we are still warriors at heart.”

“A trait I find truly admirable.” Plo Koon murmured softly and laid his fingers over the kar’ta on Jaster’s chest. “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“You’re welcome, ner kar'ta.” Jaster said with a tender looking smile as he looked directly into the lenses that hid the Kel Dor’s eyes from view. “And the moment all of this osik is over? You and I are going to go somewhere far away from everything and spend some time together. No duties, no pressures, just a few days alone somewhere where we can relax and just spent time together.”

“I would be delighted to do that. I shall look forward to it.”