#more plo koon noises

[dukeoftheblackstar]

@arcsimper5 I want this so bad but unfortunately they're so soft spoken I doubt they'd screech and make really pitched noises. They're just really soft bebbis, these Kel Dors.

But this is a headcanon I have, right @saengak. And I see why you'd also think of this because I, too, would like some "Kel Dor" noises

Plo's just very smart AF and since he comes from a line of Jedi's, pretty sure they passed down basic to lovely, beautiful, perfect little baby boy, Plo Koon ♥

Do you think Plo Koon's mask also has a translator inside it which makes his language understandable in basic?

Because being rather reptilian/insectoid in appearance, I assume that their main method of communication is probably screeching and clicks, rumbles and vibrations.

Also because:

Plo: ... and once Wolffe, Sinker and I give the signal, we will... *mask crackles, unintelligible screeching noises*

*Plo stops talking, adjusts his mask and tries again*

Plo: *more screeching*

Shinies: *horrified whimpering*

Plo: *sad eyes at Wolffe*

Wolffe: *rolls eyes* The General is having translation issues. What he said was 'once we give to signal, you are to advance and rendezvous with us at the marked co-ordinates'. Understood?

Plo: *gentle clicking noises*

Wolffe: And... *sighs* he says he's proud of us.

Everyone else: *stunned silence*

Plo: *soft screech*

Wolffe: *glaring at him* Really, General? Do I have... Ugh, fine. And the General says he... loves us... *blushes furiously*

Plo: *delighted clicking noises*

[jedi-starbird]

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

[fanfoolishness]

morning caf

For the @summer-of-bad-batch week 3 prompt, "Forget I asked." It's an early morning on Pabu, and Crosshair hasn't slept well. Neither has Wrecker. When Crosshair goes to check on him, he doesn't expect the question Wrecker asks:

"What was it like?  When your chip… when it activated?”

(Crosshair and Wrecker finally talk about their chips. Angst, family feels, ~2400 words.)

---

Crosshair yawned, taking a long drink of caf as he watched the sun begin to edge over the horizon.  He stood out on the patio, letting the morning wash over him.  He’d slept poorly last night, tossing and turning despite Batcher’s solid weight against him on the bed.  He wasn’t sure why.  Nothing had happened out of the ordinary yesterday --

Except the transmission from Echo.  His mouth quirked.

Maybe he’d go meditate.  It had been hard starting up again after the destruction of Tantiss -- after his hand -- but he could tell it was helping, bit by bit.  It was harder to see the progress now, no tremor fading to help delineate his improvement, but he could feel it in the fact that the sleepless nights were fewer than they used to be, in the way that phantom pain from his hand didn’t feel as sharp as it used to, in the way his chest felt lighter than it had in a long time.

But today he felt disquieted.

There was a noise behind him in the kitchen, a rummaging he could hear through the open window.  He turned around, surprised to see Wrecker pouring himself some caf.  Wrecker never got up this early in the morning except for missions -- well, they weren’t missions now so much as they were jobs or help for other islanders.  His curiosity piqued, Crosshair went back inside.

“You’re up early,” said Crosshair, the door closing behind him.  He took another drink of his own caf, watching as Wrecker loaded up his with cream and sugar.  “Got somewhere to be?”  He frowned, realizing how exhausted Wrecker looked, purplish shadows under his eyes, his face drawn.

“No, nowhere to be,” Wrecker said.  He shrugged.  “Just… couldn’t sleep.”  His hand, hovering over his mug in the midst of adding sugar, curled reflexively into a fist.  

“You don’t look so good,” Crosshair said, finishing his caf and reaching out with his left hand for the pot.  He was getting better at using his left hand, though a lifetime of memory meant he still got it wrong sometimes.  He used his stump to brace against his mug, holding it steady as he poured in more caf.  

Wrecker smiled wanly.  He looked like he was holding back tears.

Kriff.  Crosshair glanced around, but it was just the two of them -- no Hunter, no Omega, not even Batcher.  This was on him, no one else.  

“What’s wrong, Wrecker?” he asked slowly.

“Just… Echo’s update,” said Wrecker.  He stirred his cup of caf, and took a drink, grimacing.  Still probably wasn’t sweet enough for him.  “Sad stuff.”

“Yeah.”

They were both quiet for a moment.  That was one update from Echo Crosshair was glad Omega had missed, off playing with Lyana.  

“We had word of a clone trooper held captive in a transfer facility.  He was originally slated for Tantiss but didn’t make the last transport.  He’s been alone for months.  We broke in, but --- solitary must have got to him.”

“What happened?” Hunter had asked, but Crosshair had already guessed.  

“He’d killed himself.  Left a note, too, asking his Jedi for forgiveness.  Master Plo Koon.  I guess he never got over following the Order.”

They’d bowed their heads, a moment of silence for another fallen brother, and with shame Crosshair remembered a boy in Jedi robes, his figure brown against the snow.

“Echo’s tough,” said Crosshair carefully.  “But that’d get to anyone.”

Wrecker tried to smile at him, but it was like his mouth wasn’t working right.  His expression just came off worried.  Guilty.

“Cross,” he said, looking away and busying himself with his caf.  He picked it up, took a gulp, choked when it was still hot. 

“Wrecker.”  He waited, knowing Wrecker was working himself up to ask something.

He still couldn’t look Crosshair in the eyes, and when he spoke, his words were halting.  “What was it like?  When your chip… when it activated?”

Crosshair took a step back, his heart rate jumping, his breath catching in his throat.  He hadn’t been expecting that.  He crossed his arms over his chest, looking away.  “It doesn’t matter.  It was a long time ago.”  His voice came out sharper than he meant it.

Wrecker paused, swallowing, then waved a hand.  “Never mind.  Forget I asked.”  Crosshair risked a glance back at him, at the dejected set of his broad shoulders, at the guilty look in his eyes.  Why was it bothering him so much?  What did Wrecker have to feel guilty about?

Crosshair reached for his caf and took a drink, hoping it would steady him.  Instead he remembered he’d forgotten to add cream and sugar, and he wrinkled his nose at its bitter acidity.  An awkward silence filled the kitchen as Wrecker wordlessly padded back toward the hallway and the bedroom.

“Wrecker, wait.”  Wrecker paused, looking back at him, and Crosshair forced himself to continue.  “Come on.  Let’s go sit outside.”

“I’m no good at meditating, if that’s what you mean.  Omega tried showing me once and I fell asleep just watching her.  It’s so boring,” Wrecker muttered.

“No, you don’t have to meditate,” he said, smiling faintly.  “Let’s just… we can talk.”

A few moments later Wrecker had found a comfortable seat on the outdoor sofa beneath the canopy.  Crosshair sat at the other end, still nursing his caf, now with the requisite cream and sugar added.  The sunrise was well underway now, golds and amber-reds spilling across the sea.  

Crosshair stared out at the water.  If they were doing this, he didn’t think he’d be able to look at his brother.  “Why do you want to know about the chip?”  The last word was bitter in his mouth.  If it hadn’t been for that… so many terrible things wouldn’t have happened.  If he’d just been defective enough, he’d have been safe.  They’d never have left him.  He had gone round and round on it, during empty nights in their old quarters on Kamino, empty nights in his bunk on Coruscant, empty nights in his cell on Tantiss. 

He didn’t want to think about it again, but Wrecker was asking.  And for some reason it seemed like he needed to know.

Crosshair sighed.  If it would help Wrecker…

“Had nightmares,” Wrecker said softly.  “About Bracca.  Couldn’t sleep.”

Crosshair winced.  He’d nearly killed his brothers there; they’d nearly killed him.  He rubbed his right temple reflexively, his stump grazing over the pitted flesh and tight scarring that still remained.  “I don’t like thinking about Bracca.”

“Yeah, but Crosshair…”  He took a deep, shuddering breath.  “Mine activated, too.”

Crosshair choked down a gulp of caf, horror filling him.  He risked a look at his brother.  Wrecker  had tears in his eyes.  

“What?” he said sharply.  “On Bracca?”

“Yeah,” Wrecker said, staring down at his large, calloused hands.  “That’s why we went there.  Rex told us about them, and there was an old medbay in that cruiser.  That’s how we got ours out.  But before we did -- it was too late for mine.”  He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders rising and falling too quickly.

Crosshair reached out cautiously, resting his left hand on Wrecker’s shoulder.  He seemed to settle, his breaths getting slower, easier, though he kept his face hidden.  

“I didn’t know,” Crosshair breathed.  “I thought it was only me.  That I was the only one who wasn’t strong enough.”  He watched a long stream of seabirds fly, one by one, in a neat orderly line over the spreading waves.  Their dark silhouettes blurred and slid until he blinked away the water in his eyes.

“Nothing to do with being strong,” Wrecker said, voice muffled.  “I couldn’t stop it.  It was bigger than me.  Like it shoved out everything that was me, and made me different.  Made me try to hurt them.”

“It was… softer, at first.  For me.”  He let go of Wrecker’s shoulder, folding his arms over his chest, curling inward slightly.  “Like a detuned comm.  Made me go after that kid on Kaller.  It told me to finish the mission.  To be a good soldier.  And I wanted to, more than anything.  But -- I -- I wanted to follow Hunter, too.  I didn’t know what was happening.”  

“Never could figure it,” Wrecker said.  “Why you didn’t try to kill us right away.  When -- mine -- I came out swinging.  Tried to kill all of ‘em.  Even -- even Omega --”  He couldn’t speak, and for a moment Crosshair’s mind threw out visions of Wrecker, huge fists swinging, looming overhead, a cold, sick determination on his face.  It felt wrong even thinking about his brother like that.  

“But you didn’t,” said Crosshair.  He didn’t say, You don’t want to know what I’ve done.  He thought back to memories he’d kept hidden, shame he couldn’t bear to revisit.  But here in the morning light, with birds singing in the flowers and the waves down below, those things seemed far away.  Like maybe they’d finally lost some of their power.  

He thought about what Wrecker had said.  “I don’t know why it was different for me,” said Crosshair.  “But when they took me, Nala Se was there.  She did -- something.  Some kind of procedure.  An experiment.”  He closed his eyes, remembering the headaches crawling through his skull, the pressing insistence of the Order growing louder and louder, swallowing all sense of loyalty to his brothers.  “Made it stronger.  That’s when -- I started trying to fight you.”

“We shoulda never let them take you,” Wrecker said gruffly.  “We shoulda known it wasn’t you.”

“None of us knew,” Crosshair said.  “And I couldn’t tell you.  You did what you had to, for Omega.”

They were quiet for a moment.  A little saltbrush sparrow perched on their fence, singing its bright song, its plumage of bronze and cream and umber glowing in the golden hour light.  Crosshair tilted his head as he watched it, some of the sick feeling in his gut fading as he did so.

“Cross,” said Wrecker.  “I know it doesn’t really matter now.  But when did…”

Crosshair sighed.  Remembered Hunter’s gritted teeth, his own defensiveness, the snarled Does it matter?

It mattered.  But he couldn’t see that, back then.  He’d been too afraid of telling them the truth, too hurt that his brothers hadn’t tried to come back for him, too angry at them, himself, what he’d done, the chip, the Empire, all of it.

Was he still angry now?  After everything?

He let out a long breath.  “After Bracca,” said Crosshair.  He tapped the scar at his temple, giving Wrecker a rueful smile.  “Got damaged by that engine blast.  That was you, wasn’t it?”

“Guilty,” said Wrecker sheepishly.  “But it was gonna fry us!”

“Oh, I know,” said Crosshair, chuckling slightly.  “Figured as much.  Tech could’ve rigged up something decent, but I knew it was you.  It was too good.”

“Stop it, you’re makin’ me blush.  Uh -- sorry about your head, though.”

Crosshair shrugged.  “It did something to the chip.  I guess it was breaking down.  Frying my brain with it.”  It was all a haze, but afterwards, he’d put together pieces; he’d been having seizures on the way back from Bracca, his chip misfiring drastically.  “I told Nala Se to take it out.  That I would be loyal without it.”  His face twisted as if he’d bitten down on something bitter.  I made so many mistakes.

“Nala Se listened to you?” Wrecker said, clearly impressed.

“I think she only did it because I was a ninety-nine,” Crosshair said.  “You know how she treated us, her little pet project.  I’d heard she decommissioned regs for less.  Guess we’ll never know now.”  

He hadn’t been sure what to think when he’d heard from Echo and Omega that Hemlock’s research had been destroyed, and presumably Nala Se with it.  The most he’d settled on was that after everything, she’d stood up to the Empire when it counted.

Like he had, he supposed.

Wrecker scooted closer to him, raising one arm and settling it over his shoulders.  Crosshair leaned back, resting his head on Wrecker’s arm.

“Thanks,” Wrecker said, turning to him with a shy smile.  “The others -- they don’t know what it was like.  Guess hearing about that trooper messed me up a little.  Thinking about what could've happened.”

“I… I didn’t sleep so well either.”

“Thought so.”  Wrecker yawned, covering his mouth with his free hand.  “Maybe I should try to get back to sleep.”

Crosshair glanced at him.  “Oh yeah?  I’ve got an idea.”

Crosshair’s idea worked perfectly.  He hadn’t been meditating on the patio floor for five minutes when he heard Wrecker’s snores starting up on the sofa behind him.

He looked back over his shoulder.  Wrecker had already stretched out on the sofa, his large feet dangling over the side, a peaceful, calm look on his face.  

Fair enough.  Meditation wasn’t for everyone, he guessed.

He adjusted his position.  Breathed in.  Breathed out.  He’d been so skeptical when Omega had first shown him… and so impressed when she’d insisted he try anyway.  He smiled, thinking of the way she’d taken his hand so carefully.  She’d been determined to help him. 

He’d never understand why she loved him, but he’d never doubt it, either.

He kept breathing in.  Breathing out.

The sun had begun to swing higher, the golden hour light shifting into the harsher light of mid-morning before he unfolded his long legs and got to his feet.  Wrecker was still fast asleep, gently snoring, the sound mingling with the chattering call of the sparrows in the flowers.  

Crosshair walked over to the wall of the home, where they had a small patio shade.  They’d lowered it to enjoy the stars, last time they’d all sat out here together.  He raised the shade to its full extent until it left Wrecker completely shaded, protected from the sun.  The light and heat weren’t too fierce yet, but as Crosshair now knew from experience, sunburn on a shaved head was awful.

He gathered up their forgotten mugs of caf and headed inside, taking care to be quiet.  Wrecker could use the sleep.

Hunter was sitting at the kitchen table, having breakfast with Omega.  They both looked up at him as he came inside, Omega beaming, Hunter giving him a small, easy smile.

“Morning!” Omega said brightly.  “How are you today, Crosshair?”

He considered.  Hunter gave him a curious look, as if sensing something had changed.  

Maybe something had.

Crosshair smiled back, reaching into his pocket for a toothpick.  He settled it between his lips.  “I’m all right,” he said, and he was surprised to realize that he meant it.

[toska-writes]

“Sleeping/Cuddling Clone Headcannons”

Clones x GN padawan reader

(I guess it could be read in a different way butttt I wrote it with the intention of reader being younger)

Enjoy this because I couldn’t sleep last night!

Rex

• He would definitely be the one everyone goes to for a post mission cuddle

• I mean can you blame them? How could you not feel safe in his arms??

• Rex is 100% the one that would trace small patterns over your arms or back to help you both sleep

• He sleeps wherever as long as you stayed asleep and were comfortable- losing feeling in his arm? That doesn’t matter

• His arm is like a weighted blanket around anyone that he shares a bunk with, it doesn’t matter who it is he has to be holding them tightly

Cody

• I think Cody is the type to wrap his entire being and soul around whoever he’s sleeping with

• He just gets so close and it’s not even his fault because he’s asleep

• Would be the person to nuzzle his head in the crook of your neck, and vise versa

• Definitely the big spoon but occasionally will switch

• If you are in the same bunk as Cody I think you would start off barely touching but by morning it would be like you were stuck together.

Fives

• Fives is a complete starfish in his bunk and will take up as much room as he can

• However of course if you do ask to bunk with him he would definitely move over, but don’t be surprised if a leg or arm invades your space in the middle of the night

• If you struggle with falling asleep or nightmares I think he would be a verbal comforter and would whisper things in the dark

• His head would probably rest somewhere on your stomach or on your back

• He honestly loves when there is someone else in his bunk with him and can’t remember the last time there wasn’t

Echo

• Sleeps on his back like he was trained too

• You would just show up one night a snuggle right into his side melting into his stiff shape

• Over the course of a few minutes, whether he his conscious or not he will turn more and more ‘out of regulation’ until he has you in his hold

• He definitely holds you so that his chin can rest perfectly on the top of your head

• He practically radiates heat and it feels so nice on cold campaigns

• After joining the bad batch you found that’s it’s much better for the both of you if you just sleep in each others embrace

Hardcase

• Snores like an absolute freight train

• He use to be a very heavy sleeper but after the events of Umbara Hardcase feels a lot better if your in his bunk too

•He will absolutely be the big spoon and will put his head on your shoulder and by your neck

• Ok but just imagine Hardcase’s bed full of stuff animals- if that’s not the cutest thing then idk what is

• they are all named and he would definitely give you one to cuddle with along with him

• Loves when you trace over his tattoos, it puts him right to sleep

Kix

• Kix doesn’t get enough sleep as is, but using the excuse that if he lays with you you’ll go to sleep too

• You can practically feel how exhausted he his with his tense muscles when he lays down

• In this case he is definitely the little spoon. With everything this he deals with being a medic it’s the least he deserves

• You love making up funny stories to try and soothe each other as you both lay there together

• Kix definitely sleeps with some sort of white noise to try and drown his racing thoughts

Wolffe

• He would protest a little bit saying that he likes his personal space, but my boy is so touched deprived and will think that this is the highest form of trust

• It’s like sleeping with a warm weighted blanket

• Wolffe would be that person that wouldn’t really fall asleep until he knew you were alright

• He would definitely be a head scratcher because of all the times that Plo Koon has done it for him

• Wolffe wouldn’t tell anyone really if his padawan stayed in his bunk or not but everyone could definitely tell by his attitude and that there are no bags under either of your eyes

Fox

• 100% the small spoon. I will fight you on this one don’t try me, I believe this with my whole heart

• Just to be held like that He would pass away

• Following the same theme I think he would grumble about it and not really want to give up some space in HIS bed to you

• He completely melts into your touch and will find a way to get closer and closer to you

• Fox would definitely sleep in the fetal position

• I think he would be one of those people that wouldn’t get nightmares if someone held him tight enough and I stand by that

_____________________________________

There will be a part 2 to this with the bad batch and others!

Taglist: @arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @pb-jellybeans @padawancat97 @floffytofu

[fanfic-obsessed]

Merge the Timestream AU.

This came about because the amazing @bitter-chocolate-stars muse for the AU idea Merging the TimeStream flew out and bit me.  I would highly recommend reading it first, because it is awesome and I could not do it justice.

Now onto the madness. 

It is a mission to a Force Temple, old enough that no one knows which side of the Force it was for (or if it was for a specific side).  There were rumors that there was an ancient artifact that could change the tides of the War, so The 212th and the 501st were dispatched to get it before the Separatists. 

Five people went into the final chamber to search(There was a description of the artifact in the temple. Only four words had been able to be translated-Past, Present, Future, and Knowledge): Obi Wan Kenobi, Anaking Skywalker, Ahsoka Tano, Commander Cody, and Captain Rex.  

It was these five people who were caught by the artifact.  Each of these five were split into three. The present version of themselves, a future version, and a past version. 

I bet you all can see where this is going. 

Obi Wan’s past version is from Melida/Daan, two days before Cerasi died. The future is Old Ben, coming directly from his own beheading on the Death Star. 

Anakin’s past is nine year old Anakin, hours before he would meet Qui Gon Jinn and Padme Amidala for the first time.  The future is Vader (I hope none of you are surprised), a month after he cut off Luke’s hand, and just after he fully realized that it meant his and Padme’s child had always lived.  

Ahsoka’s past is three years old, just Found by Plo Koon. Her future is Rebels Era Ahsoka, aka Fulcrum, before she found out that Vader was Anakin.  

Rex’s past was a physically four year old cadet, the only survivor of his batch (who were decommissioned because of their blonde hair mutation-Rex’s scores were so high that he was kept). The future is Old Rex, post Empire (I always headcanon that Rex survives to see the end of the Empire because of spite).

Cody’s past is ARC Trainer Cody, after the war had started but before he was assigned to be Obi Wan’s commander. His future had just deserted the Empire and doesn’t even know about the chips yet. 

Frankly it likely would have been better if one or more of those people had arrived unconscious. Alas this was not to be. 

Upon arriving, Little Ahsoka immediately started crying to the visible concern of both Cadet Rex and Child Anakin (both were concerned about punishment at the noise). Before anyone could even think to do anything, Vader pointed a dramatic finger at Old Ben and went ‘You’ and followed up with ‘Why didn’t you tell me my son lived?’

Old Ben caulked his head, ‘Even leaving aside I thought I had left you for dead for a decade, Darth, why would I trust you with your children after the march on the temple?’

Now Darth Vader rocked back on his heels, “Children?” and then a moment later “Leia Organa”

Old Ben sighed deeply, ‘Surely we can both agree that the fact you tortured your daughter does prove me right to keep them from you.’

‘I cut off Luke’s hand too’ Vader said absently

Old Ben just buried his face in his hands.

Now all of this was with the background tune of little Ahsoka still crying.  Former padawan Obi Wan is the one who reaches her first, and picks her up, smoothly herding Cadet Rex and Child Anakin behind him, away from the adults in the room.  Former Padawan Obi Wan is radiating a vicious, desperate protectiveness. 

The movement caused Old Ben to look away from Vader at the rest of the room. His brow furrows. He looks back at Vader, “Do you remember this?”

Vader’s black mask turns to take in the rest of the room, his breath rasps somehow louder than the crying Ahsoka. At last he says ‘I do not’.

Post Empire Rex snorts and says, with an unimpressed deadpan ‘It is probably Force Shit’. 

It takes another half hour to get any kind of semblance of calm and start to piece together what is going on. In spite of the fact that neither Old Ben, nor Vader want to admit who they are (for different reasons), no one in the room is actually stupid. 

There is a moment when Rex is obligated to give Old Ben shit for the fact that he told Luke that Vader killed Anakin Skywalker, to which Ben responds ‘I was just passing on what he’ points at Vader, ‘told me’.

At another moment Fulcrum throws up her hands and shoes at Old Ben ‘I thought you were dead, again. Why didn’t you tell me you survived.’ Old Ben blinks at her, ‘Leaving aside I also thought you were dead, my dear, for the last decade I have had the single highest bounty in the empire’ Old Ben looks to Vader, who nods solemnly after a moment, ‘I would have thought that would be telling.’ Fulcrum actually pouts and mutters, ‘I thought that was a plan by the Rebellion to draw Vader’s attention.’

There is just…so much trauma in this room. Like it is possible that this group has the highest concentration of trauma in the entire galaxy. 

Deserter Cody appears to be having multiple concurrent panic attacks, his face swinging between Old Ben and General Obi Wan almost constantly. Between the residual guilt of having his general shot at, the horror of the long held belief that Cody had caused Obi Wan’s death, the combination of relief and horror at the news of the chip in his head, the combination of relief and confusion at Old Ben (who is proof that Obi Wan Kenobi did not die on Utapau), the confusion of being confronted with two other versions of himself all culminates in the fact that Deserter Cody is going through some things. 

ARC Trainer Cody is going through less, mainly horror at the chips. He is also very much a shiny as far as his reactions to the Jedi are concerned.  He is confused at being transported from Kamino, and does not know if he was transported to the future or they were tanspote to the past.  Frankly by all measures ARC trainer Cody is one of the most stable people in the room. 

Current Cody is sure that his younger self should not meet any members of Ghost Company on the basis that he would never live it down. He is also facing the horror of the chips, confusion at the triplicatation that is going on. His horror is that much deeper than his younger self because he knows and cares for Obi Wan (Light CodyWan for the win).  He is also quite worried for his older self. 

Melida/Daan Obi Wan is still not sure if he is willing to let any of the adults in the room near the other children. He is also doing slightly better with the fact that he grows up to be a general then the fact that he went back to the Jedi. He is also very much a child soldier with all the trauma therein.

Old Ben is not sure if this would be his heaven or his hell. On the one hand he could feel in the Force that he was before Order 66, all the lives he had felt snuff out were alive and well.  On the other hand, there were three Anakins in the room, at least one of which hated him. Also he thought getting beheaded would get him out of dealing with more Skywalker BS.  

General Obi Wan Kenobi is more than a little horrified. His connection to the Unified Force means that he is perceiving echoes of Order 66 through the future counterparts AND the variety of trauma that exists in the younger counterparts simultaneously. In addition, both his younger self and Anakin’s younger self are each triggering unresolved trauma.  

Padawan Commander Ahsoka Tano is staring at her older self in awe, when she was not staring at Vader in horror. She has also been herded to one corner of the room by Former Padawan Obi Wan, despite the fact that she is 16 to his 14. 

Fulcrum makes the decision that she CANNOT deal with the Vader/Anakin revelation at this point and is blocking it out. Instead she is staring at Old Ben. And glancing at her younger self, wondering how much being Anakin’s padawan had damaged her view of the Order. 

Little Ahsoka has calmed, now that she was securely held by a warmer than average Cadet Rex. 

Post Empire Rex is so, so done. This was supposed to be retirement. Being dragged back to the clone wars is not retirement. It was nice to see Fulcrum again though.

Cadet Rex is the definition of stress. He is not sure what test is going on, nor who these new trainers were but he would not fail. 

Captain Rex is not sure what to do with the proof that he would survive the war.  Nor the fate of his general as he stares at the tall black clad being. 

Darth Vader, in addition to all the issues he always carries, is looking at his younger self covetously. Had he had a way he would have tried to possess his younger self, who has everything he wants. At the same time he wants to sit this younger version down and tell him exactly how to avoid everything that Vader is (It should be noted that Vader has no idea how to avoid all that Vader is). He is also boiling angry at every version of Obi Wan, though distantly looks at the little angry version and wonders if this was a way to get his brother back.  The knowledge of Luke’s survival is drawing him back toward the single selfless thing he has done in decades, but he is still very much a Sith. 

Child Anakin is deeply confused and frankly ecstatic that he hasn’t blown up yet. It is very clear they are not on Tatooine and nowhere near Watto. He is also not impressed that he somehow escaped slavery only to become enslaved again (in his perception Vader is also chip controlled and thus enslaved).

General Anakin Skywalker is freaked out by Vader, who is radiating a weird greed at him, and also by the implications of everything the future people have said. He is also heartbroken over Palpatine being evil (even Vader agrees, in his own way, that Palpatine is evil). Everything strikes deep enough that Anakin actually decided he needed a therapist (There is something about the casual way that Vader talks about torturing Anakin and Padme’s children that cements that decision).

It turns out that the Artifact is the entire temple, so removing it is not feasible. 

Like in the original idea, I am not sure if the past and future versions find themselves eventually returning to their own times, or if they are stuck in the present. Though there is something that is amusing about the Jedi now having to deal with three of each of these five people, one of which is a Sith. Particularly since Vader both wants to kill them all and wants to protect them all (to prevent Anakin’s Fall).

It does change so many things though.

[enigmatist17]

Kind of a sequel to this post based off AU art done by @chiliger

-------

"...nearly made him jump 20 feet into the air. He was not amused."

The laughter that filled the air was loud enough to cover the snort of amusement that Cody let out as he sipped his drink.

"I hope you got a vid of that, Kenobi never gets scared as far as I know." Wolffe sat forward with a grin, his elongated canines startling some nearby natborns that were passing by 79's. It wasn't often a lot of the commanders were on Coruscant at the same time, and in honor they were gifted the expansive table that overlooked the street and hyperlane outside the bar.

"Oh yea, copied it the second he stalked off to his quarters." Cody chuckled, sitting back with a crack of his neck.

"So, he still talk to you like a nervous shiny when he sees your teeth?" Bly smirked, stealing the last of the bar food that Fox had ordered some time ago.

"Not as much, but if he thinks I don't feel the way he watches me all the time, he's mistaken."

"So...are you going to take your shot?" Fox took a swig of his drink, quite firmly in the drunk-but-not-overly-so department. "Because if not..."

"Don't..." Cody growled, and bares his teeth at Fox as the others giggle and laugh at the display.

"Please, Foxy here has his own prey." Rex snickered from his corner of the table, using Ponds as a support to stay upright. He may or may not have had more than a few drinks, and may or may not be finding this entire situation hilarious. "More than one I've heard too?" Rex is sent into some proper laughter when Fox's much louder growl and bared teeth silences a few nearby tables, officers and various troopers freezing as they seemingly await some sort of standoff before realizing it had nothing to do to them. A quick glanced shows that Fox is focused on someone at his table and not on any of them, and slowly conversation resumes save the occasional look their way.

It was never wise to be around a higher ranked officer when they're facing off over someone they had feelings for.

"Careful Rex, might end up arrested until you're sober." Bly snickered, and Fox snorts in amusement as he relaxes back into his seat.

"I am just Fox right now, and I am going to keep drinking until I forget what the GAR is." Fox waved for a fresh round, Cody patting his shoulder with a nod.

"Then let's keep the stories coming eh? Maybe scare some of the others again. Should get you plenty drunk eh?"

Fox grinned, and raised his glass with a hum.

By the end of the night they're the last ones in 79's, so drunk and unaware the music had died down and people had left they failed to see a group of amused men sitting at the main bar.

"How much longer do you think it'll take?" Anakin Skywalker grinned, sipping a water as he watched the commanders burst into laughter about something.

"A few minutes, Ponds appears to be slowly falling asleep." Plo Koon hummed, using the bar as a seat in his meditation pose.

"I do hope so." Obi-Wan Kenobi was trying very hard not to blush as he listened to Cody talk about an encounter they had shared a few weeks ago. Mace Windu was staring at him, and he was going to be damned if he let the man have a single inch of blackmail material via his reaction.

"What, all the glittering teeth over there setting you off?" Anakin snorted into his drink, jumping out of the way when a bar stool is thrown in his direction. The noise attracted the attention of the drunken crew, who finally seemed to realize that there were Jetti in a very empty bar, and attempt to stand at attention.

Instead, Bly and Wolffe trip over their own feet, and without Fox and Rex grabbing them, they would have fallen flat on their faces.

"At ease, at ease." Plo chuckled, moving to stand as the group stumble their way down towards the bar. "We thought you may want some assistance, you all are quite inebriated."

"That means drunk." Bly snickered, and everyone but Wolffe starts giggling as their Jetti watch on with some soft chuckles among them.

"Come, you can stay in the Temple tonight, it's much closer than your barracks." Windu waved his hand to start turning off the last of the lighting the owners had left on, Plo and Anakin becoming some support for the drunk men to remain upright. Cody suspiciously was the closest to Obi-Wan, hugging the man from behind and all but melding them together.

"Hello sir." Obi-Wan is very aware that Cody is dragging his feet, the others already out the door by the time the two of them had made it even halfway across the room. "Didn't see you waiting for us."

"It's quite alright." Obi-Wan coughed, nearly jumping again when Cody presses his face against his neck. "Cody?"

"Mhm?"

"May I ask why you're uh, so close to my neck?" Obi-Wan bites his tongue when he feels Cody hum, the noise rumbling in his chest.

"No reason." The clone purred, and mumbles something Obi-Wan can't catch.

"Come, there should be a vehicle for us to use." Obi-Wan knows the others have already gone, and is grateful that Mace in particular isn't there to tease him. He goes to say something else, but whatever words that were forming in his mind are suddenly scattered when Cody presses a kiss to his neck. The man is letting his canines purposefully drag as he kisses a trail along Obi-Wan's shoulder, pushing away thoughts of wanting to do more as he finally pulls away from his flustered general.

"Coming general?" The drunken man grinned, stepping around so he could get a look at the wide-eyed Jetti.

"....you are an absolute bastard." Obi-Wan's voice is strained as the two finally leave the bar, Obi-Wan locking the door as Cody stumbles to the nearby speeder. "Passenger seat Comm-dear."

Now it was his turn to see the way Cody looked back, reminding him of a fresh-faced solider the way he stumbles into the passenger side of the speeder.

Obi-Wan is grinning the entire ride to the Temple, and Cody has his face in his hands at being the one to be an embarrassed mess upon their arrival.

Oh well, there's always next time.

[exosorcery]

KELDEORIN'YAA WORD OF THE DAY

KIV - CHILD, YOUNGLING

I am a teacher. I think it shows sometimes.

So, hear me out...

Kel' Dor infants are incubated in a marsupial-like brood-pouch for 4 months till they emerge in what is called their "Emergence Celebration." (They actually hatch in the brood-pouch). There was a time when the eggs were taken out and incubated (in the distant past). On their inimical world though, this proved too dangerous for the offspring (Momma Kel'Dors are EXTREMELY protective).

Sometimes (due to marsupiod trauma of some sort like a bump/ massive jarring/trauma to the mother) a little one will opt to delay emergence. I say "opt," because in adulthood many of these children will tell you that is exactly what they did. They needed some more time of empathic safety and quiet space, till Momma could telepathically coax them out. Her body is so closely intertwined with theirs (with not one BUT TWO umbilicus - one for waste and one for sustenance) that only when the child consents are the cords detatched - and Baby emerges to see what's for lunch.

Poor Momma gets pretty big when this happens, as you would expect - but not as big as you might think (because Kel' Dors stay pretty small to fit while they're in there, and then undergo a MASSIVE growing spurt when they're out). However -

Their growth spurt is not as extreme. instead, they take their time as much with that as anything else. As they grow there are telltale signs in their morphology. Their heads are larger, with smaller eyes, taller craniums and lower-set kolmi (sensory horns... Levin'yaa, as some other races call them). They are thinner than other kids but have a ravenous appetite when they eat. They are hyper-sensory and start at the smallest things... particularly auditory stimuli (it has been put forth that in some cases there may be a sensory sensitivity issue at play with these kids - and they are born having a hard time with noise. This has not been conclusively proven). Mentally, they are typically sharp as a tack and often mathematically inclined (it is a fallacy that they experience universal mental delays). Eventually they catch up in all ways to their peers... and many very important Kel' Dor were in fact late-emergers in their infancy.

Plo Koon was one :)

This is an original character of mine who is a late emerger. Her name is TORN LI. She is beloved by her friends and peer group, and fiercely defended from bullies (yes- there are some. Like everyplace).

She is the math whiz who will happily help anyone with their homework, and loves her friends to a fault. She has issues with being hyper-sensory and is easily startled (she loves SIM the troublemaker, but HATES that he is noisy and shrinks whenever his loud voice is around).

I love that her world ADORES and supports these little ones and they all have kinds of advocates and emotional supports in their early life - from their momma and siblings, to the school system and their network of friends. It's really sweet.

( I have a story on the burner of the sometimes humorous form "emergence" takes if it happens, say, in a supermarket or a restaurant. It's kind of an ordeal... but a happy one for all involved. Stay tuned!)

Many thanks, as usual, to @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows for the terrific Keldeorin'yaa Conlang Dictionary, which you can find here:

keldeorinyaa conlang dictionary - Google Sheets

I love it - and you will too.

[mandalorianbrainweasel]

Wolffe?

The Deadalis sector is exactly the kind of place that Wolffe has wanted since the Malevolence incident. He and his men had been escorted here by a Jedi, which not everyone gets, who was going to help them get on the same page with other Kel Dor.

He’d been kind of sad to have to say goodbye to Master Plo Koon. The Jedi was one of only four survivors, including himself too.

Now he’s working with a bunch of shinies, and figuring out how to communicate with them is harder than figuring out how to communicate with the Kel Dor. He hadn’t been with his last group long but…they’d thought they’d be together a while.

“Commander Wolffe?” his naval counterpart interjects, breaking him out of his internal complaining.

“Yes?”

“We have visitors looking for you.”

Wolffe frowns—why do they have visitors?

Still, he follows the captain of this ship off to the on-board hangar, where he finds the admiral chattering surprisingly amiably with a Mandalorian and two Jedi. There’s three droids among them, too: a small BD unit on one of the Jedi’s shoulder, a floating black droid he can’t quite identify, and a silver astromech—he thinks it’s an astromech, anyway, but it looks a bit off.

All three look up far before they’re close enough to make any more noise than the pilots puttering around with ship maintenance. The Jedi he gets—he got used to that with Plo—but the Mandalorian…it’s a bit weird.

You never wanted a Mandalorian’s attention on Kamino.

This one doesn’t have paint like any of the rumours he heard back then, instead being all green and gold. The oval of gold paint on the bucket reminds him of a bird, somehow.

“Commander Wolffe,” the Mandalorian says, just…knowing who he is.

Maybe it’s the paint, but plenty of his men have taken up the Loth Wolf as a symbol.

“Master Plo asked us to come check on you, since we were coming out this way,” the Mandalorian says.

Wolffe feels a little weak to hear that.

Why does he need checking on?

He knows.

“So we’ll be here on and off while we go visit the Baran Do,” the Mandalorian says almost cheerfully. “Right, Admiral?”

The admiral nods frantically. “Of course, if your brother and the Admiral of the Fleet request it, then…”

The Mandalorian walks right on over to Wolffe and claps him on the shoulder, the floating droid and the astromech following him. “So, let’s talk.”

The Mandalorian has a Mandalorian name—and is apparently Fett’s brother, even if he looks younger than most of the clones Wolffe knew before the Malevolence—but he has Wolffe call him Spar.

He walks through the ship and pays attention to all of the shinies, saying hellos and getting plenty of awed stares in return, but unlike Wolffe he just rolls with it.

He doesn’t ask Wolffe about the Malevolence when they get to Wolffe’s office. Instead, he has Wolffe walk him through all of the organisation he’s been trying to do, all of their plans with the Kel Dor, all of the defences they’ve been working on.

By the time Boost comes to tell Wolffe it’s time to eat something—a far too common occurrence, Wolffe realises when he has someone else in here with him—the younger Fett has managed to talk him into a plan. Getting the shinies’ files would have been what to do if he had more officers he knew well enough to trust their judgement, so setting up some trials is the better option, and having some of the Kel Dor military leaders help would mean they get a good idea of how the boys will work with them.

“Why don’t you come down with us tomorrow?” Spar suggests as they’re heading to the mess. “It’s a good chance to get out of your office for a bit.”

He kindly doesn’t comment on how it looks like Wolffe’s been sleeping there, but he probably knows he is.

Wolffe…is grateful, even if he’s sure that Master Plo didn’t mean for him to get checked on like this. The younger Fett clearly has a decent amount of command knowledge, probably from his brother—General Fett is a general and the rumour mill on Kamino and now both say he was before he got the cloning job.

And they’re Mandalorians.

Wolffe always avoided Mandalorians, but he might not anymore.

(I’m accepting clones to subject to Spar for a while.)

[the-clones-deserve-the-best]

A Force Dyad: Chapter 5

There are more graphic depictions of male/male sex later in this chapter, so I must include a warning. I also did say that I would add some smut at the end of the last chapter.

Enjoy some of my cringey sex dialog.

______

Yord paced around Qimir's Coruscant flat, thinking how he would break his new relationship to Jecki and Osha. He wanted to come forward to them. Whether they approve of it or not, hiding this won't help either.

Yord took a breath as he waited for a response from Jecki to meet up. He was going to tell her and Osha. When the response came through, Yord took the information and started out.

Not before kissing Qimir while he laid asleep on the couch. He put a blanket over Qimir and gave him another kiss.

"I love you." Qimir smiled.

"I love you too." Yord responded. He pulled a hoodie on as he walked out the door.

Osha brought Mae with her. They all got a booth at a popular diner. Jecki sat next to Yord. She was that happy and relieved to see him. Mae sat awkwardly playing with her utensils. Osha tried to get her to communicate with the same Jedi she tried to kill a few days ago.

Jecki and Yord sensed the tension. So Jecki did what she does best, embarrassed Yord. She got a dastardly smile on her face.

"So tell us about your boyfriend, Yord!" Jecki announced. "I believe his name is Qimir Ren, right?"

"You know?" Yord yelled, covering his mouth.

"Yup. We all assumed that you when weren't coming home or trying to contact us that you were doing the forbidden saber duel." Jecki teased.

"You're okay with this? With Qimir being my boyfriend?" Yord asked.

"We accepted Mae. Besides, with everything going on with Master Sol, this is a nice change." Jecki responded.

"How much do you know?" Yord asked.

"I don't know the full story. I stormed out when Sol confirmed that he was lying about the events." Jecki sighed. "I didn't want to hear anymore. The Sol I knew was dying in front of me. I wasn't ready to face the reality."

"So honestly, it just made hearing the truth about Qimir, and you made this whole thing such a relief!" Jecki revealed. "I mean, he still killed our comrades, but so did Mae. If Osha asked us to give her a chance, then I guess we can try to do the same for Qimir."

Yord felt a flood of relief, knowing he had his friend's approval. He won't have to choose between his boyfriend and friends. The truths that are coming out about Brendok and Qimir's exile made their news good by comparison.

Later in their bedroom, Yord rested on top of Qimir, his head on Qimir's chest. Qimir's chin on Yord's head. His arm wrapped firmly around Yord. A warm blanket covering both of the men. A holo-drama was on for the background noise.

They shared a few passionate kisses and then a few more. Interlacing fingers. Yord returned his head to Qimir's chest.

Yord held up his end of his promise to Qimir and left the order. Tasi Lowa was transferred to Plo Koon. A condition Yord made with the council in exchange to leave peacefully.

He was supposed to leave his lightsaber, but Jecki snuck it back to him when they met earlier.

Right now, Yord just wanted to enjoy his newfound freedom. Plan out their new coven. Where'd they'd settle down and how'd they'd recruit new members. They could definitely start by helping refugees.

They found themselves consistently talking about having kids of their own. The more it was brought up, the more excited Yord got about carrying a child.

They wondered if they should wait a bit longer since they just settled in together. They wanted to make sure their baby would have the stability they needed.

When they discussed it, Qimir would randomly find himself rubbing Yord's belly. Even if they were on top of each other. Somehow, Yord's belly would become accessible for Qimir to put his hand on. They took it as their sign to have a baby. But not now. They had to secure some necessities for themselves. Also, find out how Mothers Koril and Aniseya did it.

While studying the dark side under Darth Plagueis, he watched his master do experiments on the midicholorians to create life. Qimir always paid close attention. They both wanted the same goal but to use it for different reasons.

Darth Plagueis wanted to live forever. Qimir didn't care about that. He wanted to create a new life that he and Yord could raise as their child.

It did not matter if they were biological, adopted, or padawan as long as their children were healthy.

One night, they threw caution to the wind and gave natural conception a shot. It wouldn't happen, but their ultimate goal was bonding through sex.

Qimir started by removing Yord's shirt and kissing his neck, making his way to his chest, from left to middle and burying his face in Yord's chest. He turned his head slightly to bite his pecs. He felt Yord pull him closer and guide him to their bed on top of him.

Yord separated his legs to let Qimir lay on him. He slid his hands down Qimir's back and started pulling on his shirt. Qimir lifted himself up to allow his button to be undone so his bare chest could be pressed again his lover's.

He made his way back up Yord's neck to his jaw line, then finally to his lips. He pushed his tongue into his mouth.

Yord's free hand yanked Qimir's pants. He took his free hand to help get his pants completely off before springing up to free Yord from his. The two locked eyes as Qimir positioned himself between Yord's legs and penetrated him.

He knew his little jedi rule follower was enjoying it. He penetrated deeper to get closer to his fellow former Jedi. He made his way back up through placing a trail of kisses on Yord's stomach, then chest, then neck, and finally reuniting their lips.

He returned to biting Yord's neck just below his jaw line. Humping just right to make Yord moan with each thrust. Yord wrapped his arm tightly around Qimir and grabbed a handful of his hair.

Qimir whispered filth into Yord's ear to make him more aroused. "Jedi scum!"

"Fuck the Jedi." Yord yelled as he orgasmed

"No. Fuck you!" Qimir smirked.

"Fuck me yourself, coward!" Yord snapped. Qimir pulled out to flip Yord over and reentered him.

"You're going to regret that." Qimir teased.

"I better." Yord moaned.

"You broke so many rules." Qimir started. "I have to do this. You're making me do this."

"I'll break more!" Yord moaned as Qimir pulled Yord closer. He felt Qimir bury his penis deeper into him. One of his hands interlaced with Yord's own, the other grabbing Yord's chest.

Yord got his turn on top. There was no kissing this time. It got a little rougher. Qimir thrusted while Yord moaned. Qimir's strong hands on his hips, holding him in place.

Knowing his Jedi wasn't going anywhere, Qimir grabbed Yord's dick and started massaging it. He kept playing with it and rubbing it just right.

The look of absolute pleasure of Yord's face made him go rougher. Between his own orgasms, he checked to make sure Yord was still experiencing pleasure.

With the two men facing each other once more, Yord lowered himself to Qimir's chest for his turn to leave hickeys and bite marks. Leaving a trail of kisses up his chest and neck to reach his lips. This time, he pushed his tongue into Qimir's mouth. They shared deep, passionate kisses.

Passionate kisses that would continue even after Qimir came inside Yord three times. They both experienced many orgasms at the same time. Every time he came he felt Yord's inner muscles tighten around his cock.

The session was over. Or so Qimir thought as he watched Yord get off of him. Only for Yord to spread his legs and penetrate Qimir.

"You think you weren't going to have to answer for your crimes?" Yord teased. Qimir was surprised at Yord's sudden snatching of control. He loved it!

"Yord Fandar!" Qimir laughed easing himself. "Are you bossing me around now?"

Yord closed the distance between them, returning the penetration he gave him earlier. Yord copied Qimir's trail of kisses up his chest to his lips. Not missing a step.

Through their connection, Yord knew Qimir was loving this. He would be pleasantly surprised by Yord taking charge. Qimir left scratch marks on Yord's back. They exchanged a few more long, passionate kisses before Yord came and pulled out.

Yord laid on his back and pulled Qimir towards him. Qimir rested his head under Yord's chin. Their arms wrapped tightly around each other before they finally rested.

"You were okay with what I did, right?" Yord asked.

"I love it when you take control." Qimir answered, running his hand across Yord's chest and stomach. "It was quite a pleasant surprise. You are free to do it more. If I don't like it, I will let you know. It will most likely be because I'm tired."

"Good. I'm glad we can agree on this." He kissed Qimir's head and then tilted his head up to kiss his lips. "I love you so much."

"I love you too." Qimir replied, returning the kiss.

"I remember we first did this as padawans in our late teens." Yord whispered. "The thrill of it combined with worrying if one of our masters would walk in on us."

"I remember that too." Qimir laughed. "We were on a mission to your home planet of Alderann, and our masters had to go help with peace negotiations. Little did they know we were also having negotiations."

[dukeoftheblackstar]

And the 104th has never been any more chaotic.

Fox and Wolffe flipping each other off any chance they get when Papa Plo is not looking.

These two would now need to double the efforts in ensuring Comet doesn't wander off because I'm pretty sure some Corrie boys be encouraging this behavior.

Rest of the pack is also very keen on encouraging said behavior.

Corrie boys adjusting to very fair, silent doting boss?

Sinker realizing that his downer side/sulking is UNMATCHED by the Corrie babies because Corrie boys are actually serious about dying because of work environment and trauma?

Papa Plo having to constantly pick up Wolffe and Fox by the 'scruff' of their armor and put them on timeouts.

Because the request to upgrade the bunker count for the Wolve's Den (yes, in my head I call their hub the Wolve's Den), Plo stacks everybody into this lovely pile called 'Croissant Wolf Pile'.

Bonus: - Wolffe and Fox cuddle up more when in the pile - Buir now has to use the force to keep a holopad steady in the air cause now he has each hand on Wolffe's and Fox's head during downtime - Corrie boys making fun of the Wolves for occasional and accidental moments of them calling Plo 'Buir' or 'Dad'. Corrie boys slipping at some point because Plo Koon''s BDE (Big Dad Energy) Is too strong.

Extra Bonus: Experiments include: (this is from a headcanon with @saengak) They now have a weekly experiment session on testing the limits of Plo Koon.

- Who would stealthily approach Plo without him knowing. - How heavy is heavy for Plo Koon (this has been tested by the Wolves and Buir is very proud) - Who is Plo's favorite *insert rank here* - Who gets to impress buir with massive kill count. - Who gets to last the day without cursing. (Papa Plo is very pleased of this game). - Who's more effective in helping the younglings (le babies) calm down on Plo's downtime days of visiting the Creche (I feel he does this. Helps where he can. You can argue whether he loves kids or not or whether he's really being daddy, but for someone who has lived that long, he's bound to take fancy. He's also got a calming voice, so I'm sure the Creche Masters appreciate his presence). (Also because I'm obsessed with Creche Masters so, ktnxbai) - What would break Plo's concentration/meditation that isn't work-related without touching/shaking him. - Flight Fight simulation wars.

@saengak @starrrgazingbunny @amorfista @exosorcery @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows

Plo having the time of his life with croissants and wolves ♥

*Insert happy Kel Dor Noises*

“Clone Witnessed Sitting Among the Trash on Coruscant”

[triscribeaucollection]

History Reversed

Yet another Time Travel AU. I ought to be famous for ‘em by now, right?

---

Wolffe kept a hand close to his blaster.

He didn’t know what was going on, who the Togruta hugging his general really was, because like kriff could that actually be Tano. A couple of discrete hand signals to the troopers behind him got them to separate, spread out, just in case the need arose for stun shots. After a moment’s hesitation, he also pressed a button on his wrist comm to summon a medical squad.

The Togruta looked pretty singed, after all. And they’d scanned further lifeforms aboard the damaged ship, too. Potential mindtrick plot or not, it wouldn’t hurt to have some stretchers nearby, just in case.

And speaking of other lifeforms...

A male Human cautiously scooted down the ramp next, maybe thirty, thirty-five standard. He looked a little better dressed than the Togruta, but with even more mud caked up to his knees, and a much more wary expression on his scarred face. Wolffe could see a holster hanging from his belt - two compartments, one holding a blaster, the other a lightsaber.

“Ahsoka?” The man asked. Wolffe’s fingers twitched.

The Togruta pulled back from his general, smiling through her tears. “Ezra. This- this is Jedi Master Plo Koon. He found me, when I was little. Brought me to the Jedi Temple.”

“Wait- Wolffe’s Plo Koon?” Even as he asked, the man looked up and around, scanning the clone troopers until his gaze landed on- “Commander Wolffe?”

And the fun times just kept on rolling. Reluctant in the extreme, Wolffe reached up to tug his bucket off, and came a few steps closer. From the better angle, he could make out more of the Togruta’s facial markings, and- they did look like Tano’s. Just. Bigger. Stretched, a bit, like when a clone cadet snuck a tattoo onto their skin, only for it to distort when they kept growing and packing on more muscle. Wolffe eyed her, and then eyed the Human, arching a single brow.

The second stranger made a stunned noise. “Holy kriff, that is Wolffe.”

“Wait until you see Rex,” his companion laughed, and-

Well.

Jedi did get into all sorts of bantha-shit with the Force. He’d heard more than enough stories from brothers serving with generals far less careful than his own. Maybe, maybe, Wolffe could believe this was, somehow, an older Ahsoka Tano.

She introduced her friend as Ezra Bridger, Jedi Knight, and then the three kids who tumbled down next as Jacen, Alora, and Pypey, Padawan Learners. And after them- “This is Luke, and his daughter Jaina. She needs serious medical attention.”

A Master and Initiate. A Master, who looked haggard, and exhausted, moving slowly as if the whole galaxy had just come crashing down onto his shoulders, and the only thing keeping him moving at all was the child cradled against his chest. A child, practically a baby Jedi, who bore the wounds of a battlefield and was missing most of an entire limb. Wolffe nearly growled at the sight, double tapping the button on his comm to get the medical team to hurry the hell up.

To their credit, his men spilled into the hangar not thirty seconds later, moving at a brisk jog and not hesitating to come straight up to the group of unknown Jedi. The Ithorian kid and older Human girl were situated on one stretcher, pressed together as their blaster wounds with hastily-affixed bacta patches were looked over. Little Jaina was placed more carefully on the other, the Wolfpack’s CMO muttering furiously to himself as he checked over her worst injury.

Wolffe knew damn well what lightsaber damage looked like.

To his credit, the girl’s father managed to hold himself together after setting her down, and stayed standing through the initial examination. But the very instant the medical team wheeled his daughter and the other kids out, Ezra going with them, Luke dropped to his knees without so much as a flicker of warning.

He didn’t make a sound. Sure looked like he wanted to, though, judging by the painful mix of grief and despair on his face. Ahsoka folded herself down beside him, wrapping an arm around the man’s shoulders, and Wolffe’s general wound up kneeling as well.

“She-” Luke’s jaw spasmed trying to get the words out. “She ran- ran to Ben. Before I- I couldn’t-” A broken sob clawed its way out, and he lifted a hand to press to his face. A prosthetic hand, Wolffe noted with a flinch of surprise. No cover or synth-skin molding, just bare metal.

“Who is Ben?” General Plo asked softly.

“Luke’s padawan,” Ahsoka answered, at the same time Luke himself said, “My nephew.”

Karking hells. That didn’t sound like the start of a fun story.

[shiftybells]

@totallycorrectjediorderquotes Thanks for letting me borrow the quotes! Love your content!

It seemed like clickbait at first, just another Holotuber desperate for their 15 minutes of fame. However, one particularly curious Rodian had clicked on the link while waiting for her lunch at Dex's and the opening lines of the holovid had immediately caught the attention of everyone in her vicinity.

“Hi everyone! I’m Jedi Master Kit Fisto and, with permission of course, I’m posting this to share some behind-the-scenes clips of the Jedi Council. Most of these are going to have no context, but that makes them funnier. So without any further ado, let me introduce our very own Master of the Order, Mace Windu without any context! Buckle up gentle beings, prepare to have your whole galaxy shaken.”

“Is this real?” A twi’lek whispered from beside her, his eyes impossibly wide. She shrugged. The Jedi were not exactly the most popular beings in the galaxy after all.

The first few seconds were nothing but a black screen before it began shaking and moved to show a round room filled with multiple chairs and large windows, which led to Coruscants skyline, indigo’s had begun to bleed to black. The camera panned to the right in which you could see a hologram of Shaak Ti and Kit Fisto curled up in his chair next to her. Briefly, Adi Gallia and Eeth Koth were in the shot.

Kit looked across the room with a shit-eating grin. “Dead Sifo-Dyas? More like kawaii desu baka Sifo-Dyas”

The camera quickly oved to the left to where Plo Koon had reared back in surprise. Master Yoda was letting out evil cackles while Mace Windu stared with a hard expression. “Blocked” He threw his hands in the air.

Chuckles and Kit’s pleads filled the room as the camera flipped to show the filmer to be Saesee Tiin. He grinned. “Council Session number 21: Kit Fisto gets fucking Removed from the Jedi Order.”

The clip stopped and went to a rainbow screen.

The Twi’lek giggled beside her, his green skin flushing a bit. “Wonder what else is in there?” hey shared a look.

The rainbow screen cut to a pair of fuzzy socks padding their way through a hall to a dimly lit kitchen. The sound of kitchen utensils echoed as the filmer peeked around the corner. A chrono displayed the time as 4:12 AM, the year set as 48 BBY. A younger Mace milled around the kitchen in a simple amethyst purple sweater and earbuds. His head bopped softly as me mixed whatever he was making in the bowl.

A young voice came from behind the camera. “Master… what are you doing?”

Mac looked up and removed an earbud. “Making chocolate pudding.”

The filmer now known as Depa Billaba made small noise. “It is four o clock in the morning, why on earth are you making chocolate pudding?”

Mace shrugged with a smirk. “Because I’ve lost control of my life.”

Depa snorted and the camera flipped to show a 16 year old Depa wearing a matching smirk.

A young Mon Calamari cooed and pointed to a drawing on the wall signed DB. “Aren’t they the cutest? He looks like such a proud dad.”

Another clip began playing, this time it was set during the afternoon, the sun shone through the council chambers windows. The camera panned to show the worried faces of each council member present. Only one seat was empty. A few council members were whispering to each other in concern, eyes constantly going to the doors or the seat. The doors creaked open to reveal Mace rubbing his eyes.

Adi rose a brow and chuckled a bit. “How long have you been asleep?”

Mace yawned and slumped in his seat. “I was awake for two hours on Tungsday”

Adi frowned. A couple muffled “Oh Shit’s” came from the other Jedi. “That doesn't answer my question... You know its Primeday, right?”

Mace’s reply was cut off.

“That’s…. very concerning.”

The Mon Calamari nodded. “Sounds like a mini coma to me.”

That didn’t exactly bode well for the Jedi if they only got rest from sleeping in coma’s.

The camera shook as the filmer seemed to adjust its setting before flipping up to show a med bay where injured clones were resting. Mace was pacing while Obi-Wan Kenobi sat cross-legged on a bed. “Look at me, okay? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep. I’m a wreck!”

Obi-Wan smirked a bit but rose an eyebrow.

Mace sighed. “I mean, sure I still look good, but that’s just genetics.”

The camera panned to where a clone in armour with purple paint sighed and shook his head like a friend watching their friend get back with their ex for the 50th time. “General please.”

Another Rodian snickered at the clone’s plight.

The camera cut to where Mace and Saesee were laying on their backs, Mace had his legs propped against the wall of the council chambers while Saesee had starfished beside him. “What did we learn, Master Tiin?”

Saesee grunted and shrugged. “I have no idea”

Mac sighed. “I don't fucking know either. I guess we learned notto do it again.”

Saesee nodded serenely. “Yep.”

Mace dragged his hands down his face. “I'm fucked if I know what we did.”

“Yes, it's hard to say.”

Mace blew out a breath. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

The Rodian laughed as the clip cut itself off. “OH goodness, I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to feel emotion?”

The camera cut to a small group of Masters sitting in a room full of waterfalls and plants: children could be hear giggling in the distance. A small title in the upper corner of the screen read. The Room of A Thousand Fountains.

Eeth was sitting with his arms planted in the grass behind him. “Let’s play truth or dare.” Mace was laying in the grass beside him. He shrugged. “I’ll play.” Eeth grinned. “Truth or Dare?” Mace hummed. “Truth.” “When was the last time you slept?” Mace blinked. “Dare…” “I dare you to go to bed.” “I hate this game.” Suddenly a large cloak was thrown over Mace and one Plo Koon was there the next, a vehement “SLEEP” hissing out of his mask.

The clip stopped.

The Twi’lek blinked. “I-is that a regular occurrence in the temple?”

A dark room filed with a large holoscreen and multiple Jedi appeared after the previous one. Mace was staring at Anakin Skywalker. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “I'd like to offer you some friendly advice.”

Anakin frowned at him and shook his head. “I don't need your help.”

“Consider it unfriendly advice then, dipshit.”

The clip cut off.

The next video was of Mace walking out of the council chambers. “Do not come over to my house. If the house is on fire you may knock once, if I don’t answer assume I set the fire and I want to burn to death.”

“MACE NO-”

The clip stopped.

The Rodian stammered. “D-do they get therapy? Do they have time for therapy!?”

Hysterical laughter could be heard as the camera shook. “Mace when did you become such a comedian?” The camera moved to show Mace.

“I'm naturally funny because my life is a joke”

It suddenly cut to show Depa sneaking up behind Mace with a grin. She held up a finger to her lips before jumping to cover Mace’s eyes with her hands.

“Guess who!?”

Mace startled and reared back slightly. “It’s either my former Padawan or the cold, clammy hands of death.” The filmer snorted.

“It’s Depa!”

“Dammit.”

“He sounded genuinely disappointed then.”

The video was shorter with Mace sitting in The Halls Of Healing. “Master Windu you need better self-care habits.” A Twi’lek was admonishing.

“Self-care is drinking 20 cups of Caf and Lightsaber Dueling a Sith Lord.”

The Twi’leks sigh was longsuffering.

The Rodian blinked as the video ended, the next one already loading.

The Mon Calamari whistled. “The Jedi are…. Different to what I expected.”

The Rodian nodded.

“Yeah…”

[amorfista]

I'm so glad I waited to read this💕 Because it's so precious Duch. This is the kind of relationship you guys deserve. It's silly, and it's playful, and sexy, and full of love. I'm happy for you and proud that you wrote this ♥ "It was him who always waited past their scheduled meditation hours just so he could tell you he found a hive of bees that he thought you’d like" Right here sir, this is where the melting started 🫠

“I mean just look at that cute wittle (little) baby’s chubby-chubby face!!!! And those cute wittle (little), itty, bitty, tusks on that cute wittle (little) baby’s chubby-chubby cheeks!!!— Eeeek!!! “ I'm with you Duch. Right there with you 🥴

The day that I do not melt at this face is the day you should shoot me in the face. Because jesus christ. If that smile isn't the most precious thing I've ever seen. Every time I see it all I can feel is joy and an inexplicable need TO GRAB THOSE CHUBBY CHEEKS. Anyway.

"A very dignified ‘heh’ that sends a jolt of current through your veins as if to remind you how truly electrifying it is to be this close to this Kel Dor god of a man who should have his hands preoccupied all over you rather than some stupid datapad." How powerful is this man??😩😩 ❤️‍🔥

"After all, Plo had frequently insisted you be at the utmost comfort and to feel at home even at the temple or the Wolve’s Den." Whoops Plo, your words being used slightly against you? too bad hihiihi😌

"...if he would just start making those exuberantly hot Kel Dor noises from the other night when he was busy with himse—"

UHMMM YES????!!!!! PLEASE ELABORATE!!??

"Not that having a glimpse of a very slickened tip and a few ridges brought your soul to ascend to the heavens, but his ever-so-impassive response was truly astounding." His fault. Honestly if he asked calmly (not Dumbledore "calmly") given such a situation, IS HE REALLY BOTHERED TO BE CAUGHT? No sir.

"the metallic contraption that obscured not only his eyes but the lower chambers of his face brushes along your skin. You could hear the antiox mask churn and sustain life as he hovers intimately close over your neck that the protrusions from his facial anatomy grazing your skin feels divine. " MURDERED. OBLITERATED. I need Plo to do this to me thankkksssss😇🥰

Oh. OH. Of course. He's purring now🫠​🫠​🫠​🫠​🫠​🫠​🫠 alright i need some air, i don't think this can get any be- "That or the fact that you knew, he was packing a solid 13-inches."

BESTIE WHAT

"while both Comet and his ashen-haired comrade, pelted each other with what appears to be washable paint bombs inside GAR-approved “rubbers”." Innocent clone fun, nothing to see here.

"With a tap on the darkened screen, the device lights up to show a very creatively made collage of middle fingers forming a shape of a heart, with your face at the center and poorly scribbled lines that were ambigrams of the words bestie and bitchie." HAHAHAHAH WOLFFE MATCHING DUCH'S ENERGY PERFECTLY ❤️‍🔥 I LOVE IT SO MUCH

"Unsatisfactory as your answer was, you did no better than ‘Mmm..’ seeing as you’ve become no more than a babbling, groaning, gasp-stifling, mess with every feel of Plo’s hips gyrating wantonly upon yours that he could trace the clothed folds of your lingerie with the strained tent between his own." Okay alright I am a hot mess rn. no words just. 🥴😳🥴😳 <3!

“Your father thinks we’re married because you drunkenly said we were when Sha was born. You went on about having clutches upon clutches to strengthen the Koon bloodline and for a moment that day, I thought I was seeing two Ziars.” Plo sweetheart, stop denying yourself the pleasure to call Duch your waffly wedded wife. You want to, she knows you want to, Daddy Z knows.

"“Assertively? My dearest, it was invasively saccharine even for my taste.” " Alright, Plo is just flexing words at this point 🤓

"Plo groaned and sat up, giving your rear a very uncharacteristic squeeze and pat before rising to his feet." 👀 NICE!??? I WANT MORE OF THOSE.

"“One of these days, dear husband, I’m gonna have to kiss those lips of yours and there’s nothing that could stop me from doing so.”" Okay I want to cry and i need to know more I need this to happen alright? Nothing personal, actually yes, very personal. Please let this happen in the future 🥺? tyy<3

"Part of you swore he was grinning behind that mask of his at the thought.

He was."

OF COURSE HE WAS. BECAUSE HE LOVES YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE THIS SO MUCH TOO​🥺​​🥺​​🥺​​💓💓💓

[ρℓσ∂υ¢н] єℓє¢тяι¢ ℓσνє:

¢нαρтєя ι: тнє ιиνιтє

Summary: Ziar Koon, Plo Koon's father, is hosting a celebratory gathering to commemorate the newly established hatchery as part of rebuilding Mother Dorin after a separatist attack a year ago. That said, Plo Koon is expected to be at the event and with you being the known closest to Plo, he is expected to have you by his hand during the ceremony.

Pairing: Plo Koon / OC/Reader (pre-established relations)

Word Count: 3.8k

Rating: Smutty if you squint. Rated D for Duch(ess) whatever that means.

Notes: This is supposed to be a second installment of Somewhere Over We Know but I don't really know what happened and I wanted to play with my OC so, pretend you're my OC, maybe? Dedicated to @saengak and @amorfista for helping me build my character and indulging the sanity of my constant thirst for Plo Koon and all fuckable Kel Dors out there. Contains so much inside joke, it's disgusting. Glossary || Additional details: Alright Aphrodite - The equivalent of inviting the other for some steamy, unbridled lovemaking session in a more inconspicuous manner. Egg Economy of Dorin - Population. Babies. You get it. Ziar Koon - Plo Koon's father and known tycoon of the Egg Economy in Dorin. rubbers - Condoms. Yes, they were playing with GAR-issued condoms.

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Color thingies because I'm deranged to not use them: Orange: Plo Koon Pink: You/OC/Reader Blue: Memory Purple: Me, because I have no self-control to self-insert myself whenever Plo and Kel Dors are mentioned. I'm sorry >:

Perfect divider by @idontgetanysleep with itty, bitty, cutie-patootie Plo Koon face ♥

“Why are you so darn cute, Plo? Cutest little Kel Dor baby I have ever seen in my entire kriffin life.”

It wasn’t as if you’d only recently  been acquainted with the highly revered and cherished Master Jedi of the 104th Battalion, but never a day is there that existed in which you simply could not resist the charm of your beloved childhood friend, confidant, and husband — only if there was an official event to accompany that claim and he was actually there in your makeshift wedding that resided in your head since the day you met, then yes; husband. 

But he doesn’t need to know about that now; what matters is that you’ve become such an invasive presence in Plo Koon’s life at an early stage, that you’re practically married at the hip — distance be damned. Then again, it was him who always waited past their scheduled meditation hours just so he could tell you he found a hive of bees that he thought you’d like; or that he’d finish up his tasks and ask Master Tyvvoka if he could show you scriptures intended only for young Padawans, reasoning that you are in ‘dire need’ of teachings and that you were really interested — in him, not really the Order, but it’s basically the same thing, right?

And so here you are yet again, trailing behind your most favorite sentient in the galaxy like a moth to a flame — an always incandescent beacon in the darkest hours of need. And by the stars in the skies, you needed no one else but him and him alone. Well, him and now little versions of him because Papa Ziar, Plo’s father, had graciously bestowed upon you an old photo of his young boy. Your presence at the newly established hatchery seems to have brought upon a planet-wide desire to re-populate Dorin after a separatist attack a year ago that had impaled the Egg Economy in which Papa Koon happens to be completely perfervid of. 

“I mean just look at that cute wittle (little) baby’s chubby-chubby face!!!! And those cute wittle (little), itty, bitty, tusks on that cute wittle (little) baby’s chubby-chubby cheeks!!!— Eeeek!!! “

[ Art / Concept by @justalittletomato ♥ ]

A non-threatening screech but a screech nonetheless, you’ve once more merited an indignant turn of the head from Plo; whether it was due to the fact that you’ve pried his attention from a pertinent matter on the datapad clutched between his talons, or that you’ve simply been diverting his thoughts elsewhere and had resulted in accomplishing nothing.

[ Art / Concept by @justalittletomato ♥ ]

“I could just gobble you right up, babylove!”

Your voice softens and it is that look that would always have you biting your lip and grinning all frilly and smitten. So you whisper, just enough for him to hear and for the creases of his brow to relax and merit an exasperated yet amused sigh in response. 

“Nomnomnomnomnom!!!” 

You take a step closer, ducking under his arm and taking a mouthful of his robes into a bite as you lovingly gazed and basked in the rare display of Plo’s very tamed chuckle. A very dignified ‘heh’ that sends a jolt of current through your veins as if to remind you how truly electrifying it is to be this close to this Kel Dor god of a man who should have his hands preoccupied all over you rather than some stupid datapad.

But alas, we can never have it all. At least not yet.

“Quite fortunate that I have a thick hide, then.” Plo replies, tucking an arm over the small of his back, careful not to drop the device. “Well, go on then. Pray tell what it is that you obviously have the need to share, my little love.” 

You took a deep breath latched yourself onto his side, arms seeking his free hand and wrapping it over your waist to get all comfy. After all, Plo had frequently insisted you be at the utmost comfort and to feel at home even at the temple or the Wolve’s Den.

And so you did.

Seeing as Plo Koon is your ‘home’, comfort entails being as tepid as you can with the warmth of centuries-long friendship and maybe some other kind of heat if he would just start making those exuberantly hot Kel Dor noises from the other night when he was busy with himse—.

“Duchess.” 

Oh good lord, have mercy. The equivalent of an eyebrow raise from a Kel Dor is more than enough to make these knees so damn weak. 

“Right. Business as usual.” 

You titter, beguiled by the magnetic imagery of how Plo, in all his baronial manner of handling delicate situations, covered himself in such a dignified and unshaken fashion that the gallance in which he had calmly asked you why you were once more sneaking into his chambers left you breathless. Not that having a glimpse of a very slickened tip and a few ridges brought your soul to ascend to the heavens, but his ever-so-impassive response was truly astounding.

Like his dick.

“So.” You pause, ushering the two of you to walk; your arm slithered over his waist and your free hand in motion to emphasize the exigent need of his attendance. “Papa Ziar will be launching yet again a new hatchery. Him and your brothers at the Baran Do requests that you join us in celebration of our continuous rebuild of Mother Dorin.”  

It would have been difficult for anyone to procure thought from Plo’s masked visage, but you know him enough to know not only whether it was a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’, but whether he was amicable to attend. The problem was how oppressive his silence can be, — oppressive enough to make you feel so small and foolish for even asking.

Panicked with a soft whine of worry, you slouched in disappointment and dislodged yourself to a respectful distance from him. Your tone betrays your anxiety into a disheartened response. “I mean you don’t really have to and … Well, Papa Z sort of said it was a long shot since you’re… you know.. Busy all the time.”

“And…?” Came the throaty, richness of his voice; talon-clad hand beckoning you back to his side by a firm grip on your pelvis. 

“Aaaaaaand… I said I will tryyyyyyyyy…. to at least ask if you’re free…?” You reply with so much incertitude, your eyes squinted as if it would provide some form of clarity.

“Mhm. And?” Replied Plo, leaning more towards the direction of your cheek; the metallic contraption that obscured not only his eyes but the lower chambers of his face brushes along your skin. You could hear the antiox mask churn and sustain life as he hovers intimately close over your neck that the protrusions from his facial anatomy grazing your skin feels divine. 

And though that alone was enough to make your skin crawl with so much delight and your knees buckle at an instant, it’s the sound that always got you into a trance of complete surrender. 

The first time you heard Plo purr in his prime had you blushing so hard, he thought you were ill. You were such at a loss for words that you swore on Mother Dorin and Mother Celestia (your homeworld) that you were possessed by some sort of primal god, disposing you to unleash upon all things carnal onto your beloved Kel Dor friend with unabashed shame and dire need to appease through debauchery. That part of you pondered the soothing reverberation to that of a playful or a cordial greet akin to a warm embrace, but no — perhaps it didn’t help that you’ve had this inclination towards Kel Dors or maybe, just maybe, it had always been that love you have for Plo that borders friendship to something more?

That or the fact that you knew, he was packing a solid 13-inches. Tomatoe- tomato. 

Oh, the things you would do to have him take you right here, right now —

“And….?” Plo’s talons had now dug little love burrows onto your skin and by the gods, did that made you moan a soft whimper. A little more of that and you’d be pining for Plo and you weren’t about that life to get easily swayed by your charming someday-somewhen-future husband, in the guise of him not being able to attend your someday-somewhen-future father-in-law's party. No, sir — No, ma’am.

You took a deep breath and willed all you could muster against the enchanting dalliance of Plo being a certified, flirtatious dick instead of just saying ‘No’ because he knows you could always make up for his absence in alleviating Ziar’s sorrowful dramatics. 

You can’t really blame him. Having your father muse about grandkids fully knowing that it was a unanimous decision between the Koons and the Baran do Sages to send their precious son to become a Jedi was an admittance to celibacy and grandchildless-future. Ziar was fortunate enough that the chances had tipped the scale upon hearing that you and Plo are in a non-marital-marital betrothal; yes, in whatever context that would make sense, the answer is simply ‘yes’.

You moaned again, over the cold weight of the rebreather onto the side of your neck and the fact that your weight was completely on him. To which he responded with a much firmer grip on your waist, a lean of his head and an impatient look from the usually calm and collected Jedi. 

“You do realize that it is I who is in need of convincing to attend to my father’s call, yes?” 

“For a Jedi, you’ve always been so impatient with me, Plo.” You reply, placing your palm over his face and pushing yourself off the adhesive bond that is you and Plo Koon. Parting, finally, you adjusted your clothing and reached out to iron the ruffled robes on his person. “Daddy Z might have made a certain announcement on behalf of us, babylove.” Your face scrunches, clearly apologizing on behalf of Ziar’s overzealous impulses.

“Let me guess, another faux pregnancy?” Plo replies abruptly, sighing exasperatedly as dragged his hand over his mask briefly as if to reconsider not showing up. “Sending you off to some clinic for a miscarriage claim at the proper cycle to be less inconspicuous?” Frustration now evident as Plo held his arm in a motion for you to follow, turning to the next corner as you both entered the Den. 

“I simply cannot comprehend why you spoil him at every whim.” 

Plo marched on ahead of you towards his chambers while you offered a short wave at Warthog who was helping himself at the caf dispenser while holding a leash knotted around Comet’s waist. Boost rubbed the back of his neck anxiously with a smile as if to apologize on behalf of the chaos that is within the Den. Sinker, who also has a leash knotted around his waist tied to Boost’s wrist while both Comet and his ashen-haired comrade, pelted each other with what appears to be washable paint bombs inside GAR-approved “rubbers”.

“You’re not some pet he could parade with, little love. You’re welcome to say ‘No’.” 

In comes Wolffe perched at the sofa with his own datapad illuminating that delicious, silver-cybernetic eye of his that would, should they heed your warning, fall upon your merciless grasp as your new plaything. Your fascination towards Commander Wolffe’s eye replacement grows exponentially strong with each visit.

His gaze follows suit, studying the chase of a displeased Kel Dor Master Jedi ‘kindly’ storming ahead of you and his, to Wolffe’s own affectionate coin of endearment for you, unhinged-little-bitch-wife strutting along.

You trotted to bridge the distance between you and the agitated Plo Koon, pausing only to motion for a fist to roll alongside the other (fist) facing upward. And as you turn the imaginary knob that is your upright fist, your middle finger slowly ascends to full attention to match a very spirited and gratified smile.

All of which Wolffe, dignified Commander of the 104th Battalion known as the Wolfpack, slowly replied by holding his datapad over his chest and slowly turning it in your direction. With a tap on the darkened screen, the device lights up to show a very creatively made collage of middle fingers forming a shape of a heart, with your face at the center and poorly scribbled lines that were ambigrams of the words bestie and bitchie.

The both of you shared a silent chuckle before you ran off after Plo.

***

“Darling… This is a serious matter.” 

So he says, leaning further onto the armchair and pushing his hips forward to meet your touch, palms falling onto each arm of the single-seat sofa. You hear him chunter as the tip of your boot press lightly upon the affirmation of want and consent — you’ve ‘fooled’ around more than enough that you know Plo rarely instigates these ‘things’. He would never be so bold as to ask for a bit of respite from a disconcerting situation, but would never one to decline an offer either. Makes you wonder if these repressed Jedis indulge in nights of estranged passion in the underworld —  you say ‘repressed Jedis’, but your focus leans to whether Plo has been pandering to the needs of the flesh through other sentients; unfavorable, but… oh how, sinfully kinky. 

“Mhm.. Very serious indeed.” You reply, unable to contain a simper of sorts. “Very, very, serious indeed.” You add — both to your response and pressure upon his the emergent, true Blade of Dorin.

[ This one's for you bestie, may the Blade of Dorin smite you ♥ ]

You lean back with your weight supported by a palm firm on the bed, while the other had begun daintily traversing the now exposed sternum as fingers unclipped the buttons of your blouse. “Truly a para… mount of a conundrum, my hot, sexy, grumpy, old Kel Dor of a god — Ooof!”

Perhaps now would be the time to thank the Force and his Jedi training in spite of their No-Attachment rule because clearly, training has done well in keeping the vigor of Plo Koon’s inner-mischief in check only for the opportune moment. So yes, thank the Force and the Jedi training that this often reserved and proper Jedi sees  the situation fit for mischief.

“Claws, Plo! Claws! Cla— unf~!”

Stars, bless those claws of his that found your neck in such a swift motion, you were already drenched the moment those spurs of his burrowed a little too deep onto your skin and your breath cut for hot fucking minute. Flustered and gasping under touch as he dragged you to the center of the bed, mounting your hips before pinning your wrists over that beautiful crown of yours.

“Quite a consequential predicament indeed.” Plo replies, keeling to press the cold, stannic mask onto the side of your neck and once more peppering your senses with the susurrating tone of his voice and that dark musk of tea, cum, and war.

“Mm…” Came your weak, pathetic reply that no one should ever fault you for as you squirmed under the weight of this Master Jedi who has inculcated a most promising attempt to extract your truest intention as to why, of the many events hosted by Ziar Koon, you were quite insistent on having him attend.

Unsatisfactory as your answer was, you did no better than ‘Mmm..’ seeing as you’ve become no more than a babbling, groaning, gasp-stifling, mess with every feel of Plo’s hips gyrating wantonly upon yours that he could trace the clothed folds of your lingerie with the strained tent between his own.

He knew what he was doing. You also knew that he knew that you knew what he was doing. In fact, there’s so much knowing between the two of you, you were starting to doubt the knowledge of knowing that he knew that you knew that he knew what he was doing and whether it was going to work or not was up to him — his dick, yet again, but essentially him.

The power he has over you is beyond comprehension that there would be banter about Plo being low-key sith with the shameful number of times he would use himself as an advantage over you. That this manipulative tactician of a Kel Dor man under the guise of a Jedi would have no qualms touching you in places that would have your resolve crumble to an irreparable state and still have the audacity, the gull, the heaven-blessed balls, to ask you if you were ‘alright’. 

Another moan as the grip on your neck tightens and his motions were deliberately slow and sensual. His breath now heavy and devoid of the purpose of extrapolating ‘whatever’ it was that pertained to his father’s upcoming launch. His focus solely on you as you hear him asseverate a licentious need with an audible series of clicks, aka Kel Dor Sex Noises.

“A…Al… Alright Ap..hrodite…?”

You’ve never hated yourself with such fervor until now for denying the both of you what would have been a day of existentially altering, grand-dicking of your life because as much as you want every inch and ridge of Plo Koon, the fate of Dorin’s Egg Economy hangs in the balance. Simply because like any Baran Do Sage in Dorin, Papa Ziar is as equally dramatic and happens to have a wild tendency of being sour even at his own hosted gatherings. And knowing fully that you might have exaggerated saying ‘yes’ to Ziar the other day, the success of the launch and the face of Koons hangs in the balance.

“I’m sorry, baby… No ‘Alright Aphrodite’ today.” Came your morose return, meriting a counter of a sigh from Plo. You feel his weight shift heavier atop your smaller frame, lax and untensed as he keeps his face buried onto the side of your neck. Retracting his talon-clad hand and sliding then underneath your back in an engulfing embrace of a pre-repose Plo Koon, sensing the tranquil pattern of his breathing.

“If you come then maybe Yes ‘Alright Aphrodite’ ~”. Pitching the idea of sex — no, lovemaking, with Plo when you’re obviously the one constantly starved for him remains a refreshing thought. Though this would not have been the first of many instances of having to deny Plo, you were reaching the same count of him denying you pleasure because duty beckons him like the whore to a harem as much as you are to Ziar’s whims.

“Very well.” Plo replies and before you could put a word in, he adds. “But please refrain from indulging my father with the promise of grandchildren. I am yet to provide a compelling stand as to why I remain unmarried — not due to the Order’s denunciation over attachment as implications of marriage and childbearing, but simply because it is untimely.” He takes a deep breath before disentangling himself to lie beside you. “My father is stubborn… As I am, it seems.” A short yet warm chuckle escapes his masked visage at the memory of home.

“All the more reasons to come, babylove.” You muse, propping on your elbow to turn at him sideways. “Your father thinks we’re married because you drunkenly said we were when Sha was born. You went on about having clutches upon clutches to strengthen the Koon bloodline and for a moment that day, I thought I was seeing two Ziars.” With an assuring half smile, you roll onto your stomach pouting, turning his head with a delicate, pale finger over his jaw. “And you say I’m unhinged, hmm?” 

“You are, little love.” Plo snorted. “Because I recall after making such claims, you and my father were overzealously discussing measurements and term cycles of Kel Dor gestation and whether if you had taken me to bed that night or the morning after, you asked how soon you could start birthing the new sons and daughters of Dorin.” 

“Oh, right, right, right.” You nodded with brows furrowed, recollecting Sha’s Hatchling Party. “Well, I never got the answer because your father started making appointments to have me ‘checked’ for Kel Dor birthing compatibility and frankly…. It was assertively… sweet.”

“Assertively? My dearest, it was invasively saccharine even for my taste.” 

“Does that mean you won’t leave high and dry with Papa Ziar and come as my husband?”

“My love, we are not married.”

“Rude — ouch.” You glared at him, shaking your head and rolling your eyes while he chuckled knowing it was a jab and a jest in one; a true display of a Kel Dor’s morbid humor of sorts. “Obviously, we’re not married and we won’t seem as such if you say it like that.”

“Ah — my apologies, little love. And what words should befall my person?”

“You’re supposed to say; Duchess, ethereal goddess of my abysmal need of carnal release and unearthly pleasure that only your supple temple of a body can satiate, we are not married… YET.”

“‘Carnal release and unearthly pleasure that only your supple temple of a body can satiate’ is the response you wish for me to tell my father?” Plo chuckles, rubbing his forehead.

“Kinky, but no. I wouldn’t want to fall into Ziar’s 1000 questions of how I pleasure his son whenever I visit. Then again, I might ask for a couple of tips since he’s got Mama Koon give him a proper clutch of five.”

Plo groaned and sat up, giving your rear a very uncharacteristic squeeze and pat before rising to his feet. He takes heel and opens the door to a massive cabinet, inspecting the well-organized contents before pulling an acceptable size of luggage bag onto the bed.

“And what color would your dress be for the ball, my dearest wife?” Plo asks, folding a set of Jedi robes, Dorin tunics, and coats into the carry-on. 

“I love you so much, Plo. Thank you.” Came your melted reply, reaching to cup his cheek as he placed the items in the bag. “Papa Ziar would be so happy.” You add, pulling him close to plant a kiss on his cheek before you whisper tauntingly at him. “One of these days, dear husband, I’m gonna have to kiss those lips of yours and there’s nothing that could stop me from doing so.”

Your hand slides off to arrange the clothing for Plo to have more space. Refolding them in your fashion because Plo needs to fold the clothes ‘properly’ for reasons you’re sharing luggage with the full intention of treating yourself to a new formal wear.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Came his dismissive reply — and yet, part of you swore he was grinning behind that mask of his at the thought.

He was.

Special thanks to those who were genuinely interested and gave so much love for my OC, Duchess. I love you all and the madness that come with it ♥

@saengak @amorfista @starrrgazingbunny @eloquentmoon And @justalittletomato for the fab Kel Dor baby art!!! @sinisterexaggerator for really helping me with that one line that was weird for me earlier and @eyecandyeoz ♥♥♥

[this-acuteneurosis]

As Leia is from the future does she see anyone as actual friends? Or just associates, means to an end. Shmi seems more family than friend and everyone else seems to be people she just works with. Does she consider anyone a friend?

So, I am not a professionally trained expert on trauma, but given the binary that was presented in this question and the knowledge that I do have...

Leia is Actively Traumatized. Couple of things to note about "trauma." Not all trauma is created equal. Even duplicated traumatic incidents can have very different effects based on external factors like experience and support networks.

Leia of the OT seems pretty well balanced minus her active avoidance of her feelings for Han (that could have been her naturally difficult personality, her trauma, or a mix of both). But you can see that her having the Alliance (old friends and allies), and more importantly Luke, Han, Chewie, Threepio, and Artoo gave Leia a very intimate support group immediately after her torture and the loss of her family and planet. That is super important for managing trauma. Equally important was that the Death Star was almost immediately destroyed and Tarkin was killed. In spite of the terrible things that had happened to her, Leia had evidence that her actions had mattered (her efforts to get the plans out succeeded and contributed directly to her being rescued), that there were people who would come for her and support her, and with Tarkin's death especially she could convince herself that the universe was in some way just. Tarkin did bad things to her and innocent people? Tarkin died. The end.

(Note that while Vader was not also killed, Vader was less directly responsible for hurting Alderaan and he did lose that battle.)

Leia of DLB is dealing with very different trauma.

It looks similar on the outside because it's the death of her family. But it comes at a different time and with different circumstances attached.

Leia didn't just lose her family, she deliberately left her remaining support network behind to start from scratch. She lost her family in circumstances related to the war she had thought she'd won, and didn't die with them because she had chosen not to be with them. She's "helped" by someone she actively considers an enemy to put herself back into a violent conflict where all her old enemies are alive and an active threat again, and she knows no one and is paranoid as all hell and so is reluctant to get close to people, especially when she first arrives.

Leia has lots of friends in DLB. Leia is friends with Padmé and co. Leia is friends with Shea and Darsana. Leia doesn't realize it, but she's sorta friends with Bail too. Leia is friends with Anakin and Obi-Wan. Leia is friends with Mikhail and Rex and even Plo Koon a little. Leia is friends with Wolffe and some of his company. Leia would never admit that she's friends with Cody (especially because he wouldn't say so), but she'd protect him and take risks for him the same as she would for anyone she called a friend. And Leia loves most of these people too.

But Leia's brain is constantly engaged as though she is actively in danger, and humans aren't supposed to live like that. Every choice she makes isn't just going through the filter of her reasoning and logic, it's going through "will this kill me" and then "will this kill this person" and then through "is this reasonable?"

And that's just the constant background noise version of her trauma. That's not the moments where Leia is suddenly living her past over again and has no power to change it. That's not when she meets people she should know, who should be Safe, and they don't recognize her and her already traumatized brain has to handle the added stress and dissonance of not being able to trust her own instincts. That's not when she's face to face with Sith lords who she knows have the plans and power to corrupt and kill everything and everyone that she loves and values. That is a very dangerous thing for a human brain to try and endure.

Yes Leia needs help. Yes she needs to work on trusting people more. Yes she makes a lot of choices that look callous. Because they are. But they aren't callous because Leia doesn't care, they are callous because if Leia lets herself experience her emotions It Might Kill Her. Or worse, It Might Kill Her Friends.

*cough* Um, anyway. Yeah. Leia has friends. Leia loves people. I'll, uh... go now.

[wolffe-simp]

A Clones Padawan (18+)

Another 3am piece of work

Pairing: Reader x Wolffe

Warnings: Smut, established relationship, creeping around, marking, Dom!Wolffe, V in P, unprotected, Wolffe wanting to be a baby maker, Jealous!Wolffe

Wolffe can't control himself when someone tries to flirt with his Padawan.

The music seeped into the body of the female as she danced to the beat, her very being trembling with the vibration of the speakers. While her skills for graceful movements were usually used in lightsaber training with her master and other Jedi, (Y/N) enjoyed the rare moments where she got to dance and let go, to be herself in one single moment.

After many weeks spent on the battlefield, the Padawan of Plo Koon just wanted to enjoy a night out with her clones. Sinker and Boost had "persuaded" her to tag along, telling her that the whole squad, including Commander Wolffe were going to be there. The thought of her Commander, her secret clone boyfriend, giving into the pestering of his brothers had made her giggle to herself, telling her friends that she would see them later on. Moments of self enjoyment were rare but getting to spend time with her Commander were even rarer. She had spent the rest of the day picking out the perfect outfit, fixing her hair and applying the right amount of make up to try and drive Wolffe mad.

Her mission to tease her Commander was what had led her to the dance floor, moving her hips to the beat. She threw her hair over her shoulder, sparing a glance to the table where the Wolfpack usually occupied. Most of the lads were locked in conversations with clones from other squads that had decided to join them. Yet he sat there, eyes transfixed on her figure, fingers tightening around the glass in his hand, imagining her body beneath the dress that hugged her features. She made eye contact with Wolffe, wetting her lips with the tip of her tongue as she threw him a wink. She watched his jaw tighten, trying to keep himself composed, not wanting his brothers to take notice of his slowly crumbling composure. There was nothing in this galaxy as beautiful as her, the second his general had introduced her to the pack, he had been transfixed by her sheer beauty. A goddess that had somehow fallen as deeply in love with him as he had with her, the fact that only he got to hold her, please her, made flames of arousal spread through his veins.

The music changed to a low song, causing her to let out a small breathless laugh. She moved away from the dance floor, heading to the bar to order herself a drink before she returned to her squadron. As she leaned against the bar, the air rippled around her, the force alerting her of the presence that appeared by her side. Slowly, she turned her head to face the person, raising a thin eyebrow at the man in the seat next to her. He wasn't a clone, that was for sure, from what she could see, he was a green, plump male of a race unknown to her and looking her up and down with dark beady eyes.

"Hello beautiful, can I buy you a drink?" He tried to purr at her, the words only coming out as slurred syllables.

"No thank you, I can buy my own," She replied as the bartender brought her, her drink.

She picked it up, moving to make a quick get away when the man suddenly took her by the wrist, jerking her in his direction. She leaned away in disgust as he leaned towards her, his breath stinking of both alcohol and rotten fish.

"Just one, little drink." He insisted.

"I said no, now release me." She snapped in return.

Before he could say anymore, the man was suddenly ripped away from her and slammed against the side of the bar. Wolffe practically growled and he held the man by his shirt, eyes alight with pure, burning fury.

"She said no, take the hint or you'll be swallowing your teeth." Wolffe snarled lowly. "Do. You. Understand. Me?"

The man was whimpering in the presence of the clone commander, intimidated by the sheer anger radiating from him. He couldn't find his voice, so nodded quickly, letting Wolffe know that he more that understood what would happen if he bothered you again. Wolffe slammed him into the bar again for one final measure before letting him go, watching the man stumble into the small crowds of clones scattered around. A few had seen the transaction and glowered at the man, while a few others came to the aid of their vod and led the man outside, likely to follow through with Wolffe's threat or to intimidate the man enough to ensure he never came back.

Wolffe was still shaking with rage, his hand clenching and unclenching by his sides. (Y/N) reached out a hand to rest on his arm but he recoiled from the touch and stormed outside. Worried that she had done something wrong or that he was going to get himself in trouble, the Padawan put her drink down and raced after him, wanting to make sure he was okay. She followed him a few blocks away from the club before he stopped, allowing her to catch up with him, his back still turned to her. Once she finally reached him, he suddenly grabbed her by the arm and dragged her into the closest alley, pinning her to a wall.

"Wolf-"

His name barely left her lips before her was silencing her with his mouth, hot and heavy. She whined softly into the kiss, eyes fluttering close as her hands fisted into the material of his shirt, pulling him closer. The kiss was rough and intoxicating, arousal sparking in the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach. They were lost in each other, both we desperate to have the other, especially after not being able to alone for so long. But after her display and the audacity of that drunkard trying to take what belongs to the commander, the dam finally broke, their self control giving way to the need to feel the others body against their own. After a moment, Wolffe pulled away, dark eyes taking in the red, kiss swollen lips of his precious Padawan. She was breathless, panting softly with parted lips, making the Commander smirk down at her. His large hands stroked down her sides, sliding down to her backside so he could lift her up, giving her a moment to wrap her legs securely around his waist.

Normally, Wolffe would want to take things slow, to show (Y/N) how much he loved her, to tease her until she was begging for him to take her. But something feral had taken over him, making him want to do nothing more than fuck his love until she was screaming his name, until she was filled to the brim with his seed. The thought of her carrying his child suddenly crept into his mind, enticing a low, rumbling growl from the depths of his chest. His lips moved to her neck, biting harshly into the skin as he pressed his body into hes, his arousal grinding against her core.

The feeling of him grinding against her made her moan wantonly, her hands reaching down to push down his pants, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside her. He groaned when he felt one of her hands slip past the waistband of his blacks, slender fingers wrapping around the hardened flesh of his manhood, stroking along his length for a few seconds before pulling him from his confinements. There was no slow burn, no teeth rotting romance, no dirty talk, no pleading, only one simple need.

She gasped, hand gripping his shoulders when she felt him push her panties to the side, giving himself access to her core. For a split second, he ran his manhood through her fold, allowing her juices to slick him up but to also give her a moment to back out. Instead, she pulled him into a seering kiss, whimpering as he slammed into her with one powerful thrust. He didn't wait for her to adjust, simply pressed her further into the wall, pulling almost all the way out before surging back into the depths of her sex.

She cried into his mouth, allowing him to swallow her noises of pleasure as he continued to slam into her, her legs tightening around his waist to draw him in more. Wolffe groaned, finger digging harshly into her hips as he took her, bruising her with the mark of his fingertips. (Y/N) pulled away from the kiss to bury her head in his neck, growing more vocal as began to thrust faster, plunging into her even harder.

He could feel her walls trying to clamp around him every time he went to pull out, felt them quiver in excitement when he brushed against them to seek out the spot that would make her scream. She was practically sobbing against him, feeling him fill her like no other, feeling the jab of his manhood against the entrance to her womb. The heat inside her was growing, building into a raging fire, growing hotter with every thrust. The alley echoed with the sound of skin slapping against the skin, the sinful voices of their pleasure bouncing off the walls and fading into the night. Both could feel themselves growing closer to their releases, it had been so long since they had done this that it was almost impossible for them to hold on for much longer. (Y/N) could feel the falter of Wolffe's hips, his movements becoming erratic. Wolffe slipped a hand between them, fingers circling her clit and making her keen. He toyed with the bundle of nerves, feeling her tighten around him like a vice, making it harder for him to push deeper into her. She felt his lips on her neck, feeling his teeth sink into her tender flesh, the pain and the pleasure making her cry out as the fire inside her erupted. Her insides quivered around him as he continued to fuck into her, riding her through her climax until he buried himself as deep inside her as possible, spilling his seed into her awaiting womb.

They stood there, panting softly as they basked in each others presence and the aftermath of their releases. (Y/N) left soft kisses along the length of his neck whole Wolffe ran his hands soothingly up and down her sides.

"I should try and make you jealous more often if this is what happens." She mumbled into his skin.

Wolffe chuckled softly, turning his head to place a gently kiss against the side of her head.

"I'll just have to start punishing you Mesh'la."

His words made her moan at the image of being punished, not realising how enticing the idea sounded until now.

Wolffe pulled out of her, setting her down gently before tucking himself back into his pants. They made themselves look more presentable before leaving the alleyway, making their way back towards the barracks and the Jedi Temple, both feeling more relaxed.

"You know I love you right?" (Y/N) suddenly blurted out, the scene of the creepy guy playing on her mind.

"Yeah, I know and I love you too."

[dotthings]

Episode IV of OBi-Wan Kenobi, with more crying over Obi-Wan and tiny Leia.

THE BACTA TANK SEQUENCE

Mirroring Anakin and Obi-Wan. It certainly underscores their connection and their bond, the fact that Anakin burned Obi-Wan, Anakin’s body burned after their fight on Mustafar, their lightsabers mixed into the imagery, they are mirrors and reverse images of each other as they heal. That was beautiful.

We meet Roken, played by O’Shea Jackson Jr. who I recognized from Swagger (a very good Apple TV series with an all black lead cast). Neat seeing him show up in the Star Wars universe.

“I had a wife once. I knew exactly what she was before we got married. We tried to hide it. The Inquisitors found her anyway.” So was his wife at least force sensitive? Was she a jedi in hiding, who, with the order gone, decided to marry? That’s interesting.

This ep has a lot of Star Wars: Rebels proto-rebellion energy. Proto-rebellion/pre-rebellion/rebellion era is my favorite Star Wars era. I’m living.

Tala being an ex-Imperial, and she’s so kind and she’s devoting herself now to helping people. Adding to the examples of Imperials who changed sides, like Kallus, and TFO troopers like Finn and Jannah.

These Reva and Leia scenes are dynamite and also frightening. Vivien Lyra Blair and Moses Ingram are electric in this battle of wills between Leia and Reva.

That’s the analytical part of my brain, the rest of me is utterly feral over little Leia and how terrified she must be and how brave she’s being and her being being spot on Leia. “I am PRINCESS of ALDERAAN!” I’m CRYING. She's so self-possessed and bossy I love it.

I hoped to see little Leia in the series, I didn’t know she was going to be a lead character in episode after episode or get this rich a look at her childhood.

This episode being a heist (rescue) episode is just making all of this even better. Ok it's a rescue not a heist technically, but I say it's still a heist episode.

“I had a droid when I was younger too. It was taken from me. Like everything else....I know what it’s like being alone…they are not coming for you.” Oh, Reva is so totally one of the jedi younglings. She feels abandoned by the jedi order, and she's so angry, and everything she believed about the Jedi order was shattered....by Anakin, ironically. (Does she know he was the one who did it? Or did he feed her a pack of lies? Did he play Palpatine to Reva's Anakin?) Reva's an open wound of Anakin parallels. I wonder if Vader whispered in her ear to draw her farther into loyalty to him. Did he play on her insecurities, see something of himself in her? Did he tell her, “they failed you Reva, they abandoned you, like my master failed and abandoned me” — playing her the way Reva is trying to play Leia. I have a lot of questions, I want to know how they met (maybe we’ll find out in the next few eps?)

Obi-Wan doing the same distraction noise ping trick he does in ANH, only it’s a bit more effort for him right now. MY HEART IS CRYING.

IS THAT PLO KOON ENTOMBED???????? NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. (If it is, poor Dave, did he finally decide to confirm Plo Koon is dead? Plo Koon is Dave's favorite Jedi.)

This whole scene was so frightening. Tiny Leia, the darkness, the red light, the interrogation machine beeping, a call forward to Leia in ANH. She’s probably had nightmares about imperial interrogation droids most of her life.

“Please! Help! Somebody help!”

Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope

And then the lights go out and there’s only that red circle with Leia in the middle and then that blue lightsaber flashes. How must that have felt from Leia’s pov. What seeing that blue blade means to her, what jedi now mean to her, what Obi-Wan means to her.

Oh, there you are Obi-Wan. Back in graceful badass form. heart-hands

Obi-Wan hiding Leia under his coat like she's a kitten is just so so adorable.

We’ve known Wade and Sully for all of 30 seconds and I’m already sad about Wade dying and Sully’s grief. “Where’s Wade?” “Guess you’re soldiers now after all.”

Leia's 10. She’s too young to be thinking about this, about what the Empire does to people, to the galaxy, about the costs involved in saving her. She is just a kid—her adventure to run away for the afternoon into the woods should not have had such a high cost.

The comfort Obi-Wan and Leia have from each other is HEART SHATTERING.

Obi-Wan couldn’t save Anakin, but he saves Anakin’s daughter, and she continues to save him, through Leia he's reminded of who he is, what his sense of purpose is, and a hope that maybe he’s not an utter failure who completely failed his best friend.