cybernetic implants

This post has woken up a need deep inside of me for something I didn’t realize I wanted. A need for a Star Wars/Treasure Planet crossover.

I mean, just imagine it.

*The map from Treasure Planet is actually a Sith holocron, programmed with a map to a lost Sith homeworld. Jim Hawkins figures it out because he’s awesome that way, and Delbert is what everyone thinks Palpatine is: a historian with a particular interest in Sith and Jedi history. Except he’s not, you know, a secret Sith Lord.

*Silver would totally know Hondo. C’mon. Pirate bros for life.

*Captain Amelia meeting Captain Rex (there’s some awesome art for that scenario on the post). Captain Amelia being a Zygerrian that despises the fact her people are slavers. Captain Amelia, my first ever female crush, just being her natural badass self in Star Wars.

*Obi-Wan meeting B.E.N. (and being awestruck by the fact that there is finally a droid that talks more than Threepio).

*One of Silver’s arm gadgets is totally a lightsaber. Give him a lightsaber dammit.

*Jim teaching Ahsoka how to sky-surf.

*Anakin and Jim bonding over their love of mechanics.

*Anakin drooling over Silver’s cybernetic implants.

*All the clones loving Morph so you just start seeing random splotches of pink with eyes on armor everywhere.

*Jim spending most of his time casually carrying a Sith holocron around in his pocket.

*Idk about you, but Captain Flint reminded me of the Sith species in Star Wars, so lets say he’s a Sith that survived and Silver lowkey had to train under him before Flint up and died somewhere. Now he’s a pirate could-have-been-Sith who’s a total softy underneath the gruff ‘I’ll kill ya to get what I want’ personality.

*Jim is already 50% towards having a Padawan haircut, all he’s missing is the braid. You could even call him an Initiate that never became a Padawan, so he went back home and WHOOPS here’s a dude crashing into his mother’s bed-and-breakfast with a Sith holocron in his chest. Time for adventures!

*Jim and Obi-Wan bonding over the fact that Jim was a failed Initiate who was never chosen.

*OBI-WAN BEING LIKE ‘I’LL TRAIN THE BOY’ and now he has two pirate captain besties because like fuck is Silver just disappearing in this scenario.

twentyeightghosts  asked:

I SAW YOUR "#cyberpunk baze x chirrut?" TAG AND NOW I'M THINKING -- chirrut as the badass techno-monk still loyal to his destroyed order, baze as a Bodyguard For Hire With A Big Gun, ughhhhh i can see it so clearly in my head and i love it

Star Wars is basically one step away from cyberpunk anyway, just add more neon and stick everyone on one planet instead of a billion, et voilà.

Chirrut works as a technomancer, able to communicate with and manipulate computers directly without needing code or terminals or cybernetic implants. He came by his abilities not through the self-taught survival-of-the-fittest lessons of the street, nor through sinister experimentation by one of the Megacorps, but through good old-fashioned techno-religion. His bond with the very web of cyberspace becomes the stuff of legends on both the mainstream and shadow ‘nets. This flickering presence known as The Monk, who slips through firewalls and cyber sentries like so much tissue paper, who runs his digital fingers through classified archives and top-security files pretty much whenever and however he pleases, whose reported exploits far exceed the number of places he’s actually been in.

Even glimpsing his avatar requires feats of hacking accessible only to the top tiers of hackers, the legends say, and a confirmed Monk sighting goes onto a person’s net profile like an elite badge of honor, good for both reputations and credit accounts. The legends have also embroidered the description of Chirrut’s avatar way beyond the actual mask of bits and bytes that he assumes when he goes into cyberspace - he particularly enjoys the fanfics that feature flames, or improbably giant swords, or improbably glowing armor, or all three at once - but most of them eventually boil down to a few common threads: a beautiful man with Chinese features, wearing traditional robes, disarming your defenses in a single glance of his eerie, blank white eyes.

But as invincible as The Monk may be in cyberspace, commanding the very hardware of its machinery to bend to his will, he has a weakness. Which is simply the weakness of any hacker, down to the most ordinary - when he’s plugged in, he can’t defend his own body.

Company enforcers know that. Rival hackers know that. Anyone Chirrut has ever crossed, from the Megacorp that bought out and razed his religious order, to the most recent two-bit mob boss he humiliated and laid bare to the sharks of the underworld, and continuing on down the list, knows that.

So that’s where Baze comes in. 

Baze - to put it in the simplest terms - has a really big gun.

He started life as a fully organic, ordinary genetic human. That’s all ancient history by now, seriously - the reason why his Wuxing IST-Tech 45 plasma-cell cannon has so much concentrated firepower, and why it’s so deadly accurate in his hands, is because strictly speaking, there’s no boundary between the cannon and his hands. Cybernetic implants in his limbs, his body, his eyes - even his brain - turn him into a living weapon, one that maintains the firepower and accuracy even if by some miracle he’s separated from his primary weapon. 

His reputation takes longer to grow and spread than Chirrut’s, in part because it’s a fair few years before anyone realizes the quiet-but-menacing mercenary with minor-but-solid street cred operating in a single medium-size city within the Sino-Pacific Trade Group is connected to the much-rumored but somehow even more elusive bodyguard of the internationally-famous Monk. Is, in fact, the same person. (Chirrut still likes to gleefully send him text strings from shadow ‘net forums regarding wild conspiracy theories pulling together highly improbable shreds of evidence to pinpoint the entirely wrong person as the identity of The Monk’s Protector.)

As Chirrut’s daring deeds spread across cyberspace, undermining corporate structures, propping up rebellions, sabotaging exploitative operations, declawing predators and giving teeth to prey, so too does the manhunt for The Monk. Over the years, Baze stops taking as many merc jobs that require him to leave Chirrut’s side, because he simply cannot trust that his partner won’t hook into the ‘net while he’s gone, dancing with wild abandon across the strands of the matrix that runs their world. And, incidentally, leaving himself a completely empty physical shell lying comatose amongst cushions on the floor of their shared apartment. A heavily fortified apartment, but still.

After one particularly long week, which features three highway chases, four days of hopping from safehouse to safehouse, thirty hired hitmen (spaced out over the week), too much expended ammunition to bear thinking about, and a fuckload of cleanup - flesh-eating nanobots do not come cheap, let me tell you, and neither do plasma cartridges - Baze decides to say something. 

“You could at least take a few paying jobs, since I can’t anymore,” he grumbles while he takes one of his guns apart for maintenance. “Thanks to you,” he adds, because sometimes it takes many repetitions of an idea for Chirrut to come to grips with it.

“Yes, we will eventually starve. Soon I will be nothing but an insubstantial ghost, just a spirit swaying in the digital breeze, blown wherever the matrix wills it. I think I’d make quite an attractive ghost, don’t you think?” Chirrut says, leaning back from his meditation pose and stretching, tilting his chin up and exposing a delicious stretch of throat that has Baze clamping down on a highly annoyed spark of lust. “You, on the other hand, would make for quite a large lump of a corpse, come to think of it. Hmm.”

Baze snorts. “You didn’t act like you were kissing a corpse last night,” he says, and Chirrut waves a hand.

“No, no, you’re right. I prefer you in non-corpse-form. Very well then,” and he unfolds with the startling grace that he has - the same physical capability that’s stymied more than one assassin expecting an infirm, out-of-shape hacker - and bounds over to fold into Baze’s lap, who hastily retracts the gun into his arm compartment. Chirrut cups his cheek, running light fingers over exposed metal ridges and surgery scarring. “For you, my beloved, I will take a paying contract. How much should the Monk charge for his services, I wonder?”

Baze raises an eyebrow under Chirrut’s hand, not bothering to conceal his surprise at his partner’s easy capitulation. “For you? You could probably ask for anything you want. Couple million creds, to start with, and going up from there.”

Chirrut’s pupils contract in the way that indicates he’s pulling something up on his internal HUD. “I have here a humble request,” he says, stretching out the word ‘humble.’ “From someone designating herself Mon Mothma. Came in just a few hours ago.”

Baze raises his other eyebrow. Mon Mothma of Alliance Corp? Everyone in the shadow world knows by now it’s just a front for one of the many proletarian movements seeking to break the grip of the oligarchy. Ironic that she’s funding it with wealth gained through her own corporation. But she can pay handsomely. 

Chirrut bends forward to kiss his eyebrows. “I take it you approve.”

“You’ve vetted it already,” Baze says. 

Chirrut scoffs. “You could have left that thought unvoiced and saved yourself the energy,” he says, and Baze rolls his eyes.

“When’s the verification meeting?”

“Tomorrow, in the Prosperity District. At a very nice café for the finest tea in the region, the reviews tell me.” 

Right in the heart of downtown, in the shadow of every major Megacorp skyscraper in the SPTG. Baze sighs. “I’ll get out your good suit. Try not to get yourself killed.”

“Mon Mothma asked for you, too. By name.” Chirrut smiles radiantly, inordinately pleased for no reason Baze can think of. 

He grunts and wraps his hands around Chirrut’s waist. “We’ll have to pull the rich-asshole-and-his-bodyguard act again.” Baze’s visible modifications aren’t unusual in the bowels of the city, down at street level, but would stand out as unspeakably gauche if he tried to pass himself off as a plutocrat on the 200th floor of some shiny fuck-off corporate complex.

“If we must,” Chirrut dismisses. Then he pushes Baze flat on the floor and slides down, grin glittering wickedly, and proceeds to make Baze prove - repeatedly - that he is very much, definitely, decidedly not a corpse.

(Sidenote: Baze does in fact own a super rad cyberpunk motorcycle that leaves neon streaks in the darkness when he and Chirrut ride through the rain-soaked alleys of their city, because the Rule Of Cool turned the knob up to 11 on this pair, and everyone knows it.)

80shearthrob  asked:

are you left handed or did i just make that up

I am left handed, but you may have also made it up. It can be both things. Like, for instance, I just made up that I am left handed but also have cybernetic implants in my calf muscles that haven’t yet revealed their primary purpose to me.

Anyone else notice yet how in Mercy’s new summer skin that her wings aren’t a part of her suit, they’re literally attached to her back? I mean, we all like to joke about how extra and ~A E S T H E T I C~ Mercy is about her outfits, but, like, she actually got real cybernetic wing implants just to fit with her “guardian angel” theme.

This woman is ridiculous and I love her.

super-papagei-universe  asked:

If you are closing stories, perhaps a little more precious as you are ? Does it change things for the final confrontation Palpatine / Windu \ Anakin that Anakin knew.Mace Windu as his Master's mate since a few years?

“Anakin.” Windu rasped out, breath sharp after the fight with Palpatine as he didn’t dare remove his eyes from the fallen form of the now revealed Sith Master. “I know you’re worried, I know you’re scared but we can’t let him live.” He hissed.

Shaking his head, Anakin glanced between Palpatine and Windu. “He has to live, just killing him is not the Jedi way, we have to put him on tri-”

“Anakin, Obi-Wan is pregnant.”

The words froze the blond, blinking at the Korun’s side, focused on him. “What?”

“He contacted me, from Utapau. He took a blow from Grievous and his medic checked him over, his hormone levels… I can’t let a sith master live in a world where my kits are being born.” The Korun murmured, shifting his footing a bit. “He’ll hurt them…I know he will.” Mace face tightened.

Staring at the Korun Anakin once again felt the weight of worlds on him, once again hearing Palpatine’s voice in his head.

His wife or his master.

Oh, oh this was…

“Anakin, think logically about this for just a few moments.” Mace suddenly said, still not looking away from the growling Sith. “I can smell Amidala on you, and I know she’s pregnant… just… think about this… no one dies from childbirth anymore.” It was a wild guess on the councilors side, but if there was one thing he could understand…

It was the alpha fear for an unborn child and their mates.

And it was the only thing Palpatine could hold over Anakin’s eyes, the way Palpatine’s eyes widened a bit then narrowed gave him all the confirmation Mace needed.

Anakin shook his head. “Y-You don’t know that… she…”

“Anakin…Amidala is one of the strongest women I know.” Windu continued. “Just… think about it. And even if there is danger… bring her to the temple, to the healers to… just… for all our sake… think about it… don’t let Kit, Saesee and Agen’s sacrifices be for nothing…”

Slowly, Anakin glanced down at Palpatine then back at Windu before narrowing his eyes. ‘He knew about my dreams…’

One step back and then two.

Mace almost sighed in relief, almost.

Only for Palpatine to cry out in denial, lighting zapping out of his fingers, Mace barely getting his saber in position to block it as Palpatine shot back on his feet.

And then the battle raged once again.

()()()

Opening his eyes slowly, Mace stared up at the ceiling with confusion before taking note of how sterile the air was and the warmth at his side.

The Halls and a warm body, Obi-Wan.

But…

“You’re a lucky bantha’s uncle.” A voice by the end of his bed said and slowly Mace tilted his head to look over Obi-Wan’s head where it was resting on his sternum to stare at Skywalker who was sporting an eyepatch over his left eye and a wry smile. “You should be dead but the massive amount of Force in use drew other Jedi to the Chancellor’s office, healers among them.” He chuckled bleakly.

The other Alpha looked a bit pale but well enough considering he was in a Hall gown similar to the one Mace was in.

“Palpatine severed your spine.” Anakin shrugged. “You shouldn’t be able to move your legs at the moment I’m told but cybernetic implants to your spinal column will help bring back some mobility like they did for Master Tholme and his leg implants.” He continued before glancing at Obi-Wan and then smiling wryly. “You’ve been asleep for close to a week.”

Mace swallowed a bit then tightened his arm slowly around Obi-Wan’s warm body.

Skywalker was about to say something when a small cry interrupted them, both looking over to where Amidala was carefully pushing herself out of a bed to get to a crib.

“…Thank you Master Windu.” The blond whispered. “…You were right.”

Mace gave a grunt then closed his eyes.

It was all too confusing.

It would make more sense next time he woke but he understood the gist of it…they survived and Obi-Wan was back.

Yes, all make sense in the morning with his mate.

Creating Characters with Cybernetics and Cybernetic Prosthetics

What age did your character receive their cybernetics?
>Was your character too young to remember?
>>Was your character isolated or raised with others?
>>>If with other, were they enhanced as well?
>>>Did others survive?
>>Did your character have a “normal” childhood, or were they raised as a test subject?
>>What kinds of things were taught to your character?
>>Did their cybernetics have to be replaced as they grew?
>>>Was this a painful process?
>>This group would be most adept at using the cybernetics, as it’s all they’ve known.
>Did your character receive cybernetics before they finished growing?
>>How old were they when they received them?
>>How did their friends/family/peers react?
>>What had they wanted to be when they grew up (before receiving the cybernetics)?
>>What was your character’s personality like before receiving the cybernetics?
>>What was their temperament like? (Were they quick-tempered? Calm?)
>>Were they good at improvising and adapting, or did they prefer structure?
>>Did their cybernetics have to be replaced as they grew?
>>>Was this a painful process?
>Did your character receive cybernetics at some point after they finished growing?
>>At what age?
>>What were your characters hopes, dreams, and aspirations before receiving cybernetics?
>>What was their economic standing?
>>Was your character in shape? Properly nourished? Healthy?
>>How were your character’s relationships going before this happened? Relationships include familial relationships, romantic relationships, friendships, work relationships, relationships with their neighbors, etc.
>>What was your character’s personality like? Their temperament?
>>What were your character’s skills?
>>What were their likes and dislikes?
>>Was your character good at adapting?
>Who your character was before receiving cybernetic enhancements will determine what they are like after receiving them (with a few exceptions, which will be noted at the bottom).

Reason and Consent for Cybernetics
>Consented (fully informed)
>>Why did they agree? (Money, health benefits, to impress someone, etc.)
>>Did they pay, or was it part of an experiment?
>>Have they ever regretted it?
>Consented (not fully informed)
>>What did they agree to/think they were agreeing to?
>>Why did they agree? (Money, health benefits, drunk, etc.)
>>Did they pay, or was it part of an experiment?
>>What was their reaction upon revelation that it was not what they expected?
>>>Has their attitude changed?
>>Are they angry at the doctors/technicians?
>Did not consent (and did not express lack of consent)
>>What lead to this? (Ill/injured and unable? Drugged/kidnapped and unable?)
>>>If emergency procedure, is this common practice?
>>Were they okay with results?
>>How long did it take for them to come to terms with it (if ever)?
>Explicit lack of consent
>>How did it happen?
>>Do they hold a grudge?
>>Are they actively trying to right what was done, or have they accepted the cybernetics?
>>Do they wish to kill/harm those that did it to them?
>>Did they find themselves liking it in spite of themselves?
>>>When did this start?

Prosthetics
>What material are they made out of?
>Are they hack-able?
>Do they grow with person?
>Do they change shape?
>Are they expensive?
>Are they fixable?
>>Where can parts be found?
>>Can repairs be done on their own or is a professional needed?
>Are they replaceable?
>>How easily can they be replaced?
>What kind of complications can the prosthetic have on the organic tissues of the character’s body?
>Are the prosthetics prone to bugs and glitches?
>What is the weight, on average? (Light, about the same as the organic limb, heavier than the organic limb, etc.)
>Does the prosthetic require a power source?
>>If so, why? And what is used as a power source?
>What are the success and death rates for the installation procedure?
>Are the prosthetics used to replace limbs that existed or to add new ones?
>>New to the character (like someone born with one arm instead of two)?
>>Can they connect two organic parts, such as a cybernetic shoulder holding an organic arm on?
>>New to the species (like wings or a tail or something of that nature)?
>>>How do they make this work?
>>>What is the success rate?
>>>What is the death rate?
>>>Do those differ from other cybernetic prosthetics?

Cybernetic implants
>What material are they made out of?
>Are they hack-able?
>Are they expensive?
>Are they fixable?
>>Where can parts be found?
>>Can repairs be done on their own or is a professional needed?
>Are they replaceable?
>>How easily can they be replaced?
>What kind of complications can the implant have on the organic tissues of the character’s body?
>Are the implants prone to bugs and glitches?
>What are the effects of the implants?
>>Are there different types with different effects?
>>How do they work?
>Are cybernetic implants detectable?
>How are they installed?
>What are the success and death rates?

The people that make the cybernetics and prosthetics
>Why have they decided to do this?
>>Because it’s profitable?
>>To benefit the species?
>>Curiosity?
>>To play god?
>What methods do they use to get patients?
>>Do they kidnap people and experiment on them against their will?
>>Do they open studies with volunteers?
>>>Who funds these studies?

Personality and traits after receiving cybernetics
>If your character fully consented, regardless of if they later regretted it, their personality will be about the same. If the cybernetics helped them become better at a skill they wanted, or helped them further their ambitions, they will likely be more confidant than they were previously; they may have times of doubt and self pity, thinking that it’s the cybernetics, not themselves, that are good and desirable.
>If your character did explicitly stated their lack of consent, they will be angry. How they express their anger will be dependent on their personality, and if they find themselves liking the cybernetics after all. This could go anywhere from lightly bitching about people minding their own business while your character drinks, to slaughtering everyone the doctors/technicians ever cared for.
>If your character is naturally adaptable, they will be able to optimize the use of their cybernetics much quicker than if they were not adaptable.
>If your character is no longer able to enjoy their hobbies, or if they are no longer to do or be what they aspired to be due to the cybernetics, it will have a huge impact on their mood and motivations.
>If your character received them when they were too young to remember, and was then raised in a lab environment or isolated from others, they will not be able to socialize properly. If they were raised with peers that were likewise given cybernetic enhancements, it is unlikely that they will be able to comprehend normal abilities of their species. (“What do you mean you can’t lift it? It’s just a car.”)
>All of the above are simply example of how your character’s personality would react to their environment and situation.

The exceptions mentioned earlier
>If your character received a cybernetic implant that allowed another to control their mind or actions, your character’s personality before would make next to no difference. It’s still important to know what they were like, as the author, in case you want flashbacks, or someone who knows them, or if the implant is damaged or removed.
>If your character received cybernetics against their will and was then tortured and (basically) brain-washed to behave in a certain way, they previous personality would not really matter. Though if they were naturally adaptable and didn’t feel particularly strongly about anything on their own, this process would have been much easier on them than it would be on someone who was stubborn and opinionated.

3

Some things I noticed about this lovely lady.

She boops Volskya as a playful threat because of the photo, but because it’s her signature/trademark sign-off.

The back of her suit glows around the 13th vertebra, about where her spinal implant starts. Could her enhancements be the power core for the rest of her utilities?

She has a mohawk. The hair is shaved on both sides.

Her cybernetic implants are symmetrical. Those metal components are on her right side as well as the left. 

anonymous asked:

Ahhh!!! Second choice obi wan was brilliant! Can we see a bit of his recovery? What he going to do now that he won't be able to go out in the field? Will he try any ways? I'm thinking working in the archives or a crèche master. I don't know, what do you think? I'm excited to read more!

There were fingers teasing his neck, gentle and slow and Obi-Wan squirmed a bit, hardly awake as he mumbled sleepily only to get a quiet chuckle in return.

“Magh?” He questioned, opening his eyes to peer up at the owner of the fingers.

Cody smiled at him. “You were drooling.”

“Uh?” Obi-Wan lifted his head off the others chest to wipe his mouth, grimacing when it came away wet. “Ugh.” He shuffled and pecked the other on the cheek, aware of his morning breath before glancing at the chrono.

Early.

“…Oh right, bakery.” He yawned and rubbed his face.

“Mhmm.” Cody nosed him gently before getting up and carefully pulling the Jedi too, guiding him to the fresher for a shower and all. “There’s some leftover pastries from yesterday in the fridge still.” He said after they had enjoyed a quiet shower together.

“I can have them with tea. Not for breakfast.”

That got a smile out of the former commander, brushing Obi-Wan’s hair back and tying it.

“I can do that.” Obi-Wan yawned and reached for his cane.

“I know, but I like doing it.” He wrapped his arms around the other and nuzzled his shoulder slowly before tugging the redhead along once again, keeping his pace slow so Obi-Wan could lean his weight on the cane.

He didn’t need to, but he liked taking care of Obi-Wan despite the other being fully able to do it on his own. Plus, and he’d deny it if Obi-Wan bought it up, it made him feel better to know that routines were being followed while he was there.

“What are you doing today?” He questioned lightly as Obi-Wan moved to make his tea while Cody got to scrambling eggs and making toast for them.

“Creche duty with the little ones, council meeting and Anakin wanted to have a look over my arm before we sparred.” Obi-Wan waved his durasteel arm lightly and Cody caught it, giving it a light kiss before returning to scrambling the eggs.

In the beginning, Obi-Wan had been hesitant about getting a prosthetic arm until Anakin had pointed out that two hands would make it easier for Obi-Wan to do his duties and balance himself. He was still reluctant about having further surgery implanted even if it would mean recovering enough for actual active field work.

To Cody he had confessed that he liked the idea of not having to run all over the galaxy, fighting. Negotiation and exploring cultures were nice, there were still semi safe missions he could take in the name in negotiation but if he could, he would avoid his lightsaber.

He’d do his duty but if his duty could be without ever again igniting his saber then Obi-Wan could be content.

Having a safe bakery job, no more war in sight for them, Cody understood the others reasoning. They could be safe.

()()()

“Che told you not to push it.” Anakin closed his hands around the others knee, frowning heavily at the heat he could feel radiating even through Obi-Wan’s leggings. “Damn it, I’m going to get a cool gel bag.” He got to his feet.

“I just…I was having fun Anakin.” Obi-Wan sighed, letting his former padawan take care of his now throbbing knee. “I forgot that…I just forgot.” He sighed again. While he never wanted to lift his saber in battle again, he did enjoy sparring, it was both mentally and physically exhausting.

Kneeling back down, Anakin put the gel pack around Obi-Wan’s knee to cool it down, peering up at him. “Well I get that…okay since we have some down time, how are you?” Anakin had made a point of asking once a day how the other was.

“I feel…good. My leg isn’t to bad today, I had a good breakfast before Cody went of to the bakery and I’ve done creche duty.” Obi-Wan smiled at his former padawan. “And you?”

“Same. I had breakfast with Ahsoka and Padme, saw the kids and did my drill training with the troopers who wanted to remain.”

“How are Luke and Leia?”

“Still in bubbles.” Anakin sighed, the stress of Palpatine had pushed Padme into an early birth and the twins had suffered for it, needing delicate care. “Got to hold them through the sterilized sleeves though.” He smiled meekly, the smile turning a bit more genuine when Obi-Wan reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “Talked to Mace Windu.”

“And?”

“And I can remain a Jedi. However I’m not allowed to be even a planet close to any issues Naboo are involved with or Padme outside of our personal life.” He sighed.

“…You know that’s better then the alternative.”

“I know. I could be exiled. A few opted to leave the order I heard.”

“Not everyone can balance and accept the concessions. I’m not allowed to be anywhere near clone issues.” Obi-Wan quietly chuckled.

“I heard that, doesn’t that make it hard for you and Cody?”

“Not if I’m feeding Luminara and Shaak about what to say to the Senate to improve their rights.” He smirked a bit and Anakin laughed quietly.  “But they had to make concessions or else there would be to few Jedi left. Plo Koon basically adopted the entire Wolfpack after all. And Aayla…” The two shared a grin.

“I heard she’s pregnant?”

“Now THAT I don’t know about, she doesn’t strike me as a mothering type but perhaps, she would make a good mother at least. Bly would be a decent father.” Obi-Wan hummed.

“…She’d be a good mother but she’s not the mothering type?” Anakin question.

“You can want kids and not be a good mother. And you can not want kids and be a terrific mother if you did become one.” The redhead smiled at him. “How does my knee feel?”

The blond removed his hand and placed his hands on it, prodding carefully. “Feels less swollen at least. Are you sure you don’t want to try the same cybernetic implants Master Tholme has?” He frowned at him.

“Most days its alright.  This is enough.” He moved his durasteel fingers at Anakin, smiling. “I’m… content Anakin.”

“You know…I am too.”

The two smiled at each other.

They were content.