#can you make a frying pan out of droid metal

[absurdthirst]

Hey! I hope you’re having a nice day and don’t feel pressured to answer this, but how do you think the Pedro boys would react to having triplets? (I just learned im having two boys and one girl)

Heaven knows I’m already worried about mine with the casually offered reductions and all the talks about how difficult it’s going to be since it’s my first time. My heart goes out for the Pedro boys in less advanced universes knowing the complications that could come up.

Having Triplets:

Javier Peña: Gets drunk. Like - very drunk. Smokes an entire pack of cigarettes while he drinks. Worrying. Obsessing over the idea that he was already nervous to be responsible for one kid, but three???? He's never gonna sleep again. He's going to be grey by the time the kids are born, or bald from the stress. Once he's gotten over his hangover, he's asking questions. Demanding to know the risks and he has a fucking notebook full of questions for the doctors every time you go. Turns into the most solid father that you've ever seen.

Ezra: Speechless. For the first time since you have met the loquacious prospector, he is completely speechless. "I don't quite thing your suit's gonna be fitting you soon, little gem." His life has been one big adventure and he has just floated along. Now he will have to put that sharp mind to work to make sure that his little family has their feet firmly planted on a safe planet. Ezra will be planting roots - just don't ask him where he acquired the things he brings home for the babies.

Mando: Have you ever seen a wall of metal worry? That's what it would be like. This towering hunk of beskar would just lurk and be underfoot. Silently watching and you would wake up to any and all little luxuries that he could possibly get his hands on. The man would invest in a real bed for Maker's sake. He would even get a medical droid, putting aside his dislike for most tech to make sure you had the best help available.

Pero Tovar: Pero wonders why you are as big as a horse. (You hit him with a frying pan for saying that) When the midwife tells him that she feels more than one babe in your belly, he starts to worry. Childbirth in his days is not without risk and multiple babes are even riskier. He will start praying to God to allow the babes to born healthy and breaking his back even more to provide for the four of you.

Frankie Morales: His military training is the only goddamn thing keeping this man from having a panic attack, or a stroke. Definitely going to be getting high one last time before he flushes the coke down the toilet. If for nothing but to work out that fear without you knowing. To your face, Francisco Morales would be the most calm, rational man with dealing with the idea of triplets. He even trades in his beloved truck for a van - not a mini van, because those things drive like fucking ass - but a cargo van to haul the kids and all their shit around. He will be working himself into the ground to his get license re-instated so he can be earning more. He can't raise triplets on his retirement alone.

Agent Whiskey: In complete denial. Absolutely refuses to believe that you are having more than one baby. Like complete disassociates when it comes to that. Despite Ginger confirming it and everyone talking about the babies. He's convinced that everyone is pulling some elaborate trick on him. Right up until the moment he has baby number one in his arms and you start pushing again for the next one. Then shit gets real.

Dave York: Dave is another cool cucumber when it comes to dealing with the idea of triplets. He starts planning. Logistics is what matters. Paying for these kids. He will start taking more contracts and being away from home, but he always tries to make sure he's home for doctor's appointments. Surprisingly handy. Already put together the three cribs and started stocking up on diapers. He's changed his share before with Molly and Alice, but this time it's going to be interesting with three at the same time.

Oberyn Martell: Thrilled. He will be on the maester's ass to make sure that the births are smooth sailing for you. Multiple babies at once? He will enjoy running his hands over your swollen belly and making sure that the servants are nearby all the time so you do not have to do a thing. Spending hours with you in the water because it easy on your body with all three babies growing. Present for every moment from the moment your pains begin, until you are holding all three.

Max Phillips: Mixed feelings honestly. Three little baby biters? Pretty cool. Three sets of dirty diapers to change? Less so. Max is smarmy and cocky, but the cracks of that facade start to show when he realizes he's made three tiny little half vamp/half human beings that will need to be cared for. He might even put his little feud with Evan aside because the man has bigger fish to fry. But expect him to start offering you blood smoothies. You know, for protein.

Marcus Pike: The combination of stress and excitement inside him is like being pulled in two different directions at once. Immediately starts reading books on the subject of twins and making a detailed list of everything you need to buy. Will be making full use of his paternity leave to help you with the babies.

Marcus Moreno: It's a good goddamn thing he's a super hero. Marcus literally saves the world, so he is used to stress. There's a little bit of panic behind those rimmed Clark Kent glasses he has and he wonders if his powers was what caused this. He knew that copper IUD was a bad idea. He can only hope that Missy loves being a big sister, because she's gonna have 3 younger siblings.

Max Lord: Passes out. Literally the man faints at the news that he is going to be a father to triplets. The internal panicking that this man does rivals ten men. Nearly enough to do something stupid like wish he had the dream stone back, but not quite. You end up having to calm him down.

Zach Wellison: Gets a second job. Then a third. You practically don't see the man for nearly three weeks after being told that he's going to have triplets with you because he's working so damn much. Trying to make sure that he can buy everything you need and provide for the babies. Only starts to slow down when you remind him that you need him with you now. You don't want to do this alone. It takes him a minute to get that through his head, but he's pretty happy as soon as he gives himself a moment to be.

Dieter Bravo: FREAKS OUT. Like has a melt down as he denies it. Until he can see the ultrasound and has the three little nuggets pointed out to him. He's wide eyed and asking you if you want some of his drugs. You might need them more than him. When you decline, he takes all of them himself and starts to ask if you feel any different now. Playing with your stomach and talking to the babies as he lays out why is he upset. He's scared. Scared he's going to screw up and then it's three little people he's fucked up. Showing exactly why Dieter will end up being a good dad. Whacky as shit, but a good dad.

Javi Gutierrez: Obsessed with them. He has already been thrilled by your pregnancy and having a baby, but now that there will be three? Completely in love with the idea of built in best friends. The decorating of the nursery is now tripled and Javi just completely throws himself into it and treats you like a queen the entire time. Waits on you hand and foot and marvels over your changing body. Gets you one of those belly harnesses to make sure that you are as comfortable as you can be.

Tim Rockford: Have you ever seen the scene of a man pacing back and forth and running his hands through his hair? That's Tim. Like seriously concerned with how he is going to pay for three babies. On a detective's salary. There's going to be a lot of overtime in this man's future.

Joel Miller: What the hell can he do? Not like he can go back and unring that bell. He's panicking, his heart racing and his entire body feeling weak but he hides that from you. Does you no good and he won't have you worrying. He's fucking worried. Because this is a shit world you live in and there's a very real possibility that he will lose you and the babies. Rest assured that he will BURN THE WORLD DOWN to keep you and them safe.

🎉🎉Congratulation Anon!!! I hope that you have a smooth rest of your pregnancy and birth! Fingers crossed and good vibes being send your way!!!

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #pero tovar #marcus moreno #agent whiskey #dieter bravo #ezra prospect #javier peña #dave york #oberyn martell #frankie morales #marcus pike #max phillips #javier gutierrez #tim rockford #joel miller #zach wellison #max lord #headcanons

[feathersforclones]

If I could gift one of the clones my ability to weild a weapon, this Brother would be feared all over. I carry a sword sometimes, or a mace.  But really, my best ability lies in my reliable War Frying Pan. Fear me. Fear him. Frying Pan will hit hard and fast!

#the clone wars #clones #weird hobbies #hobby larp #i am frying pan #i am death #give those cooking brothers a fearsome reputation #and some cold forged iron pans #see the droids running #can you make a frying pan out of droid metal? #would that be more fearsome?

[darkisrising]

I’ll take you at your word, by DarkIsRising

This Dinluke may very well be the softest, fluffiest, most tooth decaying-ly sweet thing I’ve ever written. Read here or on ao3 if that’s more your thing.   I’ll take you at your word Luke is a very attractive man.

Din hadn’t noticed at first, what with all that was going on when they’d met, or even at the second because holocomm blue is not the most flattering—or steady—light. By the third time, though, Din notices because he’s not as oblivious as certain beings the galaxy over seem to think him to be.

He notices how light Luke’s eyes are and how laughter seems to hang in their corners even when he’s at his most Jedi-serious. He notices that Luke’s hair is always perfectly laid down across his forehead and sometimes wonders what kind of Jedi magic must make it so, even as his fingers twitch to muss it all up. He notices that there are dimples that flare across his face when he’s in just the right mood. He notices there is a magnificent brightness that surrounds him even when there’s yet another power failure at his temple—”I thought I’d fixed that kriffing thing! Hold on, sorry, this is embarrassing”—and all Din can see of Luke is thanks to his helmet’s heightened sensors.

But by far the most attractive thing about Luke isn’t his face, which is beautiful, or his physique, which is impressive, or his voice, which could drive a celibate to distraction. No it’s how eager Luke is not just to teach, but also to learn.

When he asks if they might spar together, Din’s expecting a brutal display of skill and dominance. What he isn’t expecting is Luke asking Din to show him that move again—”Wait, is this how it goes? Or is your weight on the other foot?”— and wait patiently as Din corrects his posture, gifting Din a rattler-flash of a smile in return.

When he asks about Din’s covert—”Whatever you want to share with me. It’s also okay if you need to keep stuff secret.”—Din can tell there is more than puerile curiosity in his questions. There is a real thirst for understanding.

And when he starts to take an interest in Din’s language, asking: “And how do you say ‘tired’ in Mando’a?” on an evening that Din is so exhausted from his flight to Yavin that he answers “Haryc” automatically, it’s no surprise that Luke takes bending his tongue to the unfamiliar word as seriously as all the rest.

“Haryc,” Luke repeats, a tiny frown of concentration forming along his forehead as he repeats it three times more for good measure. “Alright, kid, it’s time for bed. Your father is haryc.”

“Buir,” Din offers and Luke smiles with a nod of thanks, repeating the new word to himself a couple times and then amending: “Your buir is haryc.”

A thrill runs down Din’s spine to hear Luke’s voice wrap around the sounds of Mando’a, though in the moment he attributes his reaction to fatigue.

The next time he hears Luke speak a bright, chipper “Oh, Grogu, look: your buir is awake!” as he’s working over a pan of frying eggs, a spatula in his gloved hand, Din gets that same thrill despite having had a full night of uninterrupted sleep, so he knows it wasn’t because he was haryc, it’s just what happens when Luke speaks Mando’a to him.

***

Luke isn’t just easy on the eyes, or the ears. He’s also magnificent in battle: lithe and dressed in black, lit by the glow of his green saber, flickering through the line of Imp droids as he slices his way to Din’s side.

“What do you think?” Luke asks, casting his black hood back when they’ve cleared enough Imps to take a brief rest and Din spares a quick glance over at him. Sweat dances down from Luke’s forehead and it’s the only sign that this grueling stand-off is taking any kind of a toll on him. “Not bad, right? I think all our sparing has paid off.”

“Mhi solus tome,” Din says without meaning to and Luke’s eyebrow quirks a question. “We are one when together,” Din translates and even though there comes the sound of metallic feet marching down the durasteel hall he can feel Luke’s attention hone in on Din’s words.

“Say it again,” he says and when Din does, Luke repeats the phrase.

“Yeah,” he says with a smile. “I like that,” and with their next steadying, tandem breath they launch themselves at their enemy. They are an indivisible whole, and Din’s heart sings, reverberating as loudly in his chest as his beskar echoes through the air when it smashes in an Imp droid’s faceplate.

***

Luke also, Din is glad to see, has a noble heart.

“I hate to put you in this position,” Luke is babbling in the temple’s hangar as his droid whizzes by clicking loudly as he makes their ship flight-ready. “But Leia says the kids are holed up in some tundra wasteland and they haven’t been able to find them yet.”

“It’s fine,” Din says, a fond smile safely tucked away behind beskar. “Go.”

“I feel terrible. You entrusted me with your son and here I go running out on you two, again, for the third time this month—”

“Luke?” he cuts in and Luke’s mouth closes with a snap. “It doesn’t matter if you leave. Mhi solus dar'tome. We are one when parted.”

“Wait can you say that in Mando’a again—”

“Later.” Din huffs a laugh and pushes Luke toward his waiting ship. “Go!”

Luke is also persistent, so it isn’t much of a surprise when he jumps down from his X-Wing’s ladder with a triumphant grin. “Mhi solus dar'tome!” he calls to where Din is waiting with Grogu in his arms. “Did I say it right?”

Din inclines his head and Luke gives out a loud “Ha!” of glee.

“I commed Bo-Katan on the way back and made her teach me,” Luke says and Din mentally adds ‘fearless’ to his list of Luke’s virtues.

***

With Luke generosity is a given.

So it’s to Grogu, who is hoarding their latest shipment of eggs with a raised hand that brims with misused Jedi magic, that Din chastises by saying: Ad'ika! Mhi me'dinui an.”

“Yeah, Grogu,” he says between hiccupping laughs, clearly not nearly as annoyed as Din is. “Whatever he said.”

“We will share all,” Din mutters, wrestling the crate away just as Grogu slurps two more eggs down. “Mhi me'dinui an.”

And Luke, whose ear has gotten remarkably attuned to catching the cadence of Mando’a repeats back nearly flawlessly “Mhi me'dinui an.”

***

But above all of this, Luke is clever. Really, really clever, which is something that can get overlooked between his face and his laugh and his prowess with a lightsaber. He’s also so blindingly, heart-wrenchingly, stupefyingly brave that it shouldn’t be such a surprise when one day, seemingly out of nowhere, he takes Din’s leather-clad hands in his, stares into Din’s visor, and says, “So I don’t know if you mean it or not, but just in case: bal tome mhi ba'juri verde.”

Din blinks at his perfect pronunciation as well as the words he’s speaking.

“Yeah, so,” Luke says, a red flush rushing across his throat and taking over his cheeks. “I think you might have been getting married to me these past few months? And if it’s all a misunderstanding then we can just pretend this never happened—”

“Bal tome mhi ba'juri verde,” Din says, quicker than he’s maybe said anything in his life and now it’s Luke that’s left blinking.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, well, good. That’s really, really good.”

“Yeah,” Din agrees. “Yeah, it is.”

“Good. Yeah, good,” Luke is nodding, and because no other words come to Din—in either Basic or Mando’a— he reaches up to remove his helmet and catches Luke’s lips in a kiss. ~~~+~~~ Mandalorian marriage vows: Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde We are one when together, we are one when parted, we will share all, we will raise warriors

#dinluke #dinluke fic #darkisrising fic

[letitrainathousandflames-archive]

Exile Au Possible Follow Up

idk this is just a WIP whatever please don’t take me seriously ever

(tw for depression, cutting mention and general clone angst)

Every day in the house is still stifling.

Fives loves having Echo around. He’s even gotten used to Dogma’s strange personality, and his own very particular way of dealing with his demons.

But he – they – were trained to fight, to kill, to win victories to the Republic, and now that the Republic means nothing to them and there’s nothing to fight or kill for... what is he supposed to do?

Fives clenches his fists, looking at the line where the blues of sky and ocean met in the horizon. He hears steps behind him, and then a brother’s voice calling his name. Same as any other vod, although a bit raspy. It’s Echo. He can tell.

“Are you still stalling out here? I’m already done with the laundry and you’re the one in charge of lunch today, remember?”

Fives sighs out sharply.

“Ah, yes, the most important assignment I’ve ever gotten in my whole life: frying Dogma’s stinky catch of the day.”

Echo raises an eyebrow when Fives turns to face him.

“Really? This early in the day and you’re already snarking?” he lets out a small laugh “Y’know, you’re more like Skywalker than you-“

“Don’t say his kriffing name!”

The playful atmosphere - even if a bit dry - is completely gone now. Echo chews on the inside of his cheek, and the silence stretches out for a moment.

“You know, Fives… we never quite got around talking about everything that happened, did we? While I was… away, that is.”

But when Echo draws a breath to continue, Fives walks past him.

“I’m making lunch.”

When he walks into the kitchen and Echo shuts the door behind them, it’s much warmer than the outside, and Fives takes his coat off, tossing it over the back of the couch where Dogma sits with the bes’bev on his lap.

Fives’ eyes widens at the sight of the instrument like it’s a sarlaac ready to swallow the trooper whole.

“What is he doing with that thing?” Fives asks Echo in a hissed whisper

“I can hear you, Fives.” Dogma says in annoyance “Echo said I could keep it. It’s been three weeks now.”

Fives turns to Echo with his eyebrows raised while he walks into the kitchen to gather the spices to cook. He had cleaned the fish earlier in the morning, so all there was left to do was add the condiments and putting it in the oven.

“And you two just decided that without me?”

Echo went to the sink to get a glass of water, shrugging:

“Three weeks seemed enough to me. Dogma likes the bes’bev. We only took it away from him before because he had been… relapsing. He’s doing better now, and he deserves to have it back.”

“And what about what I think?” Fives asks, twisting the pepper grinder over the pink filet “None of you thought about asking me?”

Echo shrugs, drinking his water. Dogma shoots him a glance from the couch with a tiny smile.

“Don’t worry Fives, I won’t stab you in your sleep.”

Fives keeps twisting the grinder and growls:

“You watch your mouth, shebs!”

Echo stomps his foot down, which made quite a loud thud due to his new prosthetics.

“Fives, stop grinding this thing unless you want us all to eat peppers with a dash of fish and apologize to Dogma right now.”

Fives puts the grinder down but does not apologize, now taking a small, sharp knife to mince a handful of green herbs meant for seasoning their dish.

“I’ll apologize when he apologizes.”

“Fives, I-“ Dogma starts to say but Echo raises a hand, interrupting him

“He has.” Echo states dryly “Several times. He doesn’t have to apologize any further, but you certainly do.”

Fives doesn’t say a word, and keeps working in silence. Echo sighs and Dogma just sulks quietly, waving his head as a ‘nevermind’ gesture to Echo. Echo absently scratches his shoulder  where scarred skin met metal, waiting one beat before trying again:

“Fives.” he starts, his voice low and collected “Look, I know our situation is not ideal, far from that.” he ignores Fives’ scoffing “But I need you to at least try to make this tolerable to all of us. Think about it, we’re safe. No droids chasing us, no generals sending us into gunfire. We can stop and think for once instead of just keep running around.”

Fives drops the fish filets into the dented baking pan. His ears are ringing and the left one hurts like someone’s stabbing into it. He still doesn’t know what that is but it sure as hell isn’t helping improve his mood. He opens the stove and puts the pan inside, sets the timer on his wrist device and steps out of the kitchen.

“Where’re you going?” Echo asks, and he knows Fives won’t stop even if he calls him back

“Out.” Fives said, putting on his coat “Keep an eye on the oven. I gotta clean the barn.”

“You just cleaned it this morning.”

“The bantha doesn’t schedule her shits, Echo.”

And before Echo can come up with anything to say, Fives opens up the door and leaves. Echo groans, walking out of the kitchen as well.

“Moons, he’s driving me out of my kriffin’ mind.”

Dogma twists his lips, fidgeting with the bes’bev.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have… I was just trying to be funny.”

Echo stands behind the couch and places his hand over Dogma’s shoulder, squeezing it gently.

“Don’t worry about that. Actually…” he pauses for a moment “That joke would’ve made him laugh back… back when he was…” and Echo lets go off dogma, walking around the couch to then plop himself down next to his younger brother “I think this place is not having a very good effect on Fives, Dogma. He can’t accept his new life, can’t see this place as our new home. He’s… different from what I remember.”

Dogma stays quiet for a few instants, then he pull one of his sleeves up just a bit.

“Well.” His voice is low, almost like he feels like he shouldn’t speak; and he does “what happened to each of us made us all different. Changed.”

Echo sees Dogma’s barely-faded scars on his wrist, thinks of the circular burn right in the middle of Fives’ chest. His prosthetic arm whirrs softly when he moves it to scratch his thigh where it meets its own prosthetic.

“Still,” Echo says quietly, almost like he’s talking to himself “we need to learn to live with our scars. Fives is refusing to, and he’s just hurting himself more  in the process.”

“Yeah.”

Dogma pulls his legs up, wrapping his arms over his shins.

“Can I, uh. Can I ask you a favor, Echo?” Dogma asks in the same quiet voice; Echo nods and Dogma blinks a couple of times “Can you please stop defending me every time Fives attacks me? I… I mean…. I think I can stand up for myself.”

Echo just stares at him for a moment, surprise taking his features.

“I… never thought you couldn’t, vod. I… It’s just that… you’re not in the best place right now…”

“I know.” Dogma says sheepishly “But I think I have to learn to fend for myself. I think It’s part of fixing…this” he makes a broad gesture with the bes’bev in his hand “I’m not being ungrateful, though. You helped me a lot since you arrived. Thanks.”

Echo smiles, nodding at Dogma.

“Anytime vod’ika.”

-

It turns out that the barn is still clean, so Fives just gave the bantha an affectionate pat to the head and walked out to sit at the edge of the cliff, legs dangling past the rust-stained rail. He reaches for a small rock and throws it down to the crashing tides below.

His ears still hurt like hell. Sometimes he wished he could shove his hand in and fix whatever the kriff was wrong in there. Could it be all the years under the explosions and gunfire? But the helmets had a sealing system that kept the noise to a safe level. He keeps wondering what could it be, and not knowing makes him even crankier.

Fives looks down to the cliff’s side. The way down to Dogma’s stupid cave, where he would do his stupid sulking and his stupid cutting. He hates that the place is out of reach. Sometimes he wishes the tides would rise and fill it for good and make it impossible to get to again so that Dogma wouldn’t be able to hide from them and cut himself. And now Echo had given him the bes’bev back… how long until Dogma cuts himself again, Fives asks himself dully.

He sighs, leaning back until he can flop on his back over the grass, squinting at the clear sky above. How many clones would kill to be in his place now, free from the obligations of their duty, doing farm work and taking care of a home of their own? Hells, Fives himself had dreamt of this when he had been naïve enough to think that one day the war would be over and the clones would be free.

He clenches his fists thinking of the chancellor and his lies, and his ears hurt so much now. Fives screws his eyes shut when he hears a faint, continuous whistle in his brain. His head hurts… He reaches up to press his finger to his earholes, rubbing circles in an attempt to soothe the pain.

When he opens his eyes, he sees Dogma staring at him from above, concern in his upside-down features.

“Are you okay, Fives?”

Fives sits up abruptly, still rubbing his ears.

“Fantastic.” he grumbles “What do you want?”

Dogma hesitates, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Echo, uh, just flipped the fish and he says it’ll be done in ten minutes.” Dogma makes a pause, watching Fives get to his feet “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Fives runs his finger past where his tattoo used to be and touches the circular scar where AZ-3 had cut him in order to remove his chip. Fives wondered if the ringing in his ears could be a side effect of having it removed and he bit his lip, thinking of Tup. He did mention a headache before he marched straight to a Jedi general and shot her dead.

Oh no.

“I gotta call Rex.” Fives says as he walks past Dogma towards the house “Now.”

#exile au #fic wip #idk if i'm gonna follow up on this or nah