#Digital Trading clone

[atulkaundalomnins123]

Digital Trading App Script Appointment Booking

The Digital Trading App Script with Appointment Booking addresses these challenges by offering a comprehensive solution that integrates digital trading with appointment scheduling capabilities. Developed by industry experts, this script is designed to streamline operations, enhance client engagement, and drive business growth.

Key features of the Digital Trading App Script with Appointment Booking

Real-Time Market Data: Access up-to-date information on stock prices, market trends, and asset performance to make informed trading decision

Trade Execution: Execute buy and sell orders with just a few taps, leveraging advanced order types and trading strategies to optimize investment outcomes.

Portfolio Management: Monitor investment portfolios, track performance, and receive customizable alerts to stay on top of market movements.

Appointment Booking: Allow clients to schedule appointments directly within the app, with real-time availability and automated reminders to streamline the scheduling process.

Client Management: Capture client preferences, scheduling history, and communication logs to personalize services and enhance client relationships.

Analytics and Reporting: Gain valuable insights into appointment trends, client behavior, and user engagement through integrated analytics and reporting tools.

Customizable User Interface: Tailor the app's interface to reflect your brand identity and provide a seamless, branded experience for clients.

Multi-Platform Support: Access the app and booking system from desktop computers, tablets, and smartphones, ensuring flexibility and convenience for users on the go.

Security and Compliance: Implement robust security measures to protect user data and transactions, adhering to industry standards and regulatory requirements.

Integration Capabilities: Seamlessly integrate the app with existing CRM systems, payment gateways, and third-party tools to maximize efficiency and streamline workflows.

Multi-Language Support: Cater to a diverse client base by offering support for multiple languages, ensuring accessibility and inclusivity for users worldwide.

24/7 Customer Support: Provide round-the-clock customer support to address user inquiries, technical issues, and account-related queries, ensuring a positive user experience at all times.

Educational Resources: Offer educational resources, tutorials, and market insights within the app to empower users with the knowledge they need to make informed investment decisions.

Social Sharing: Enable users to share their trading activity, investment strategies, and appointment bookings on social media platforms, fostering community engagement and brand advocacy.

Continuous Updates and Maintenance: Regularly update the app with new features, performance enhancements, and security patches to ensure optimal functionality and user satisfaction over time.

Scalability: Scale the app's infrastructure and capacity to accommodate growing user demand and business expansion, ensuring seamless performance and reliability as the user base grows.

Feedback Mechanism: Solicit feedback from users to gather insights, identify areas for improvement, and prioritize feature enhancements based on user preferences and needs.

Automated Reporting: Generate automated reports on trading activity, appointment schedules, and client interactions to streamline administrative tasks and gain actionable insights for business decision-making.

Risk Management Tools: Integrate risk management tools and alerts to help users assess and mitigate potential risks associated with their investment decisions, ensuring a secure trading environment.

GDPR Compliance: Ensure compliance with data protection regulations such as GDPR (General Data Protection Regulation) by implementing robust data privacy measures, obtaining user consent, and providing transparency regarding data handling practices.

Advantage Digital Trading App Script 

Streamlined Operations: By integrating digital trading and appointment booking functionalities into a single platform, businesses can streamline their operations, reducing the need for multiple systems and manual processes.

Enhanced Client Experience: Offering clients the convenience of scheduling appointments directly within the trading app improves their overall experience. It saves time and effort, leading to higher client satisfaction and loyalty.

Increased Efficiency: Automated appointment scheduling reduces administrative burden and allows businesses to focus on core activities such as client engagement and investment analysis, leading to increased efficiency and productivity.

Improved Communication: Appointment reminders and notifications sent through the trading app ensure timely communication with clients, reducing the risk of missed appointments and enhancing communication effectiveness.

Personalized Services: The integration of appointment booking data with client profiles enables businesses to offer personalized services tailored to individual client preferences and scheduling history.

Data Insights: Analyzing appointment booking trends and client behavior provides valuable insights that businesses can leverage to optimize their service offerings, improve client engagement, and drive business growth.

Competitive Advantage: Offering a seamless and integrated digital trading and appointment booking experience sets businesses apart from competitors. It demonstrates a commitment to innovation and client-centricity, attracting and retaining clients in a competitive market.

Compliance and Security: By adhering to data protection regulations and implementing robust security measures, businesses can ensure the confidentiality and integrity of client data, fostering trust and confidence among clients.

Flexibility and Accessibility: Users can access the Digital Trading App Script with Appointment Booking from anywhere with an internet connection, providing flexibility and accessibility for both clients and businesses.

Cost Savings: Consolidating multiple systems into a single platform reduces software licensing and maintenance costs, resulting in cost savings for businesses in the long run.

Time Management: Efficient appointment scheduling helps businesses manage their time effectively, allowing them to allocate resources more efficiently and maximize productivity.

Reduced No-Shows: Automated appointment reminders help reduce the number of missed appointments, minimizing revenue loss and optimizing resource utilization.

Improved Client Retention: Providing a seamless and convenient appointment booking experience increases client satisfaction and loyalty, leading to higher client retention rates.

Enhanced Professionalism: Offering a modern and user-friendly platform for appointment booking reflects positively on the professionalism and credibility of the business, enhancing its reputation in the industry.

Targeted Marketing: Analyzing appointment data enables businesses to identify trends and preferences among their client base, facilitating targeted marketing campaigns and promotions to drive engagement and sales.

 Appointment Booking

 Client Management:

Capture client preferences, booking history, and communication logs to personalize services and build strong client relationships.

 Analytics and Reporting:

Gain valuable insights into appointment trends, client behavior, and user engagement through robust analytics and reporting tools.

 Security and Compliance:

Implement robust security measures and adhere to data protection regulations to protect user data and ensure regulatory compliance.

The Need for Appointment Booking

While digital trading apps have simplified the process of trading, managing client relationships remains a crucial aspect of the financial services industry. Appointment booking plays a vital role in scheduling consultations, account reviews, and other client meetings. However, traditional methods of scheduling, such as phone calls or emails, can be cumbersome and time-consuming for both clients and service providers.

Client Convenience: Clients appreciate convenience and flexibility when it comes to scheduling appointments. With the Digital Trading App Script, clients can easily book appointments directly within the app, eliminating the need for phone calls or emails. This convenience enhances the overall client experience and fosters positive relationships between businesses and their clients.

Time Savings: Traditional appointment booking methods often involve time-consuming back-and-forth communication to find mutually suitable time slots. By offering integrated appointment booking functionality, the Digital Trading App Script saves time for both clients and businesses. Clients can view real-time availability and book appointments instantly, while businesses can manage their schedules more efficiently.

Reduced No-Shows: Missed appointments can be costly for businesses, leading to wasted resources and lost revenue. The appointment booking feature in the Digital Trading App Script includes automated reminders and confirmations, helping to reduce the likelihood of no-shows. By sending timely reminders to clients, businesses can minimize the risk of missed appointments and optimize resource utilization.

Improved Organization: Keeping track of client appointments manually can be challenging, especially for businesses with high appointment volumes. The Digital Trading App Script provides businesses with a centralized platform to manage all their appointments, making it easier to stay organized and avoid scheduling conflicts. Businesses can view upcoming appointments, manage cancellations or rescheduling's, and maintain accurate records of client interactions.

Enhanced Efficiency: Efficient appointment booking processes contribute to overall operational efficiency within financial service providers. By automating repetitive tasks such as appointment scheduling and reminders, businesses can streamline their workflows and focus on delivering high-quality services to their clients. This improved efficiency translates into cost savings, increased productivity, and better resource allocation.

Why choose Omninos for  your Trading App 

Expertise in Financial Technology: Omninos has a proven track record of expertise in financial technology. They have a deep understanding of the complexities of trading platforms, including market data integration, order execution, and security protocols. With their specialized knowledge, they can develop a trading app that meets the unique requirements of the financial industry.

Customized Solutions: Omninos understands that every trading app is different, with its own set of features and functionalities. They offer customized solutions tailored to your specific business needs and objectives. Whether you're targeting a specific market segment or implementing advanced trading algorithms, Omninos can develop a trading app that aligns with your vision.

User-Centric Design: Omninos prioritizes user experience and design aesthetics in their app development process. They create intuitive and user-friendly interfaces that make trading easy and enjoyable for your users. By focusing on usability and accessibility, Omninos ensures that your trading app will attract and retain users.

Security and Compliance: Security is paramount in the financial industry, especially when it comes to trading apps that handle sensitive financial information. Omninos takes security seriously and implements robust security measures to protect user data and transactions. They also ensure compliance with regulatory requirements, giving you peace of mind that your app meets industry standards.

Scalability and Performance: As your user base grows and market conditions change, your trading app needs to be able to scale and adapt accordingly. Omninos develops scalable and high-performance trading apps that can handle large volumes of users and transactions. Their solutions are built to grow with your business and accommodate future expansion.

Conclusion

The Digital Trading App Script with Appointment Booking is transforming the way financial services are delivered. By combining the power of digital trading with seamless appointment scheduling capabilities, this innovative solution empowers businesses to streamline operations, enhance client experiences, and drive growth in today's competitive market landscape. Embrace the future of finance with the Digital Trading App Script and take your business to new heights.

[marshadellow]

forgot to post this, but here’s my part of a trade with @tumbleweedsthesecond !! And his fan clone Anastasia Romanov

[kalisseo]

ART TRADES

left is for @moldyfridgee and right is for @clonecircus!!

[clone-trooper-cheese]

My half of the Art Trade with @l0nesome-dreams ! I drew their oc Bronco :D

Hope you like it!!!! You did a super awesome job with Omen, so I hope I did your boy just as much justice lol

Some up close stuff under the cut :]

[reality-itself-but-magic]

my half of the art trade with @whimsy-of-worlds!

here’s the ephemeral Miss Oddie ^^

I meaaaant to do a flat color but then I was doing some basic shading and then I found myself making a shadow and then the background just kind of followed- sorry it wasn’t intentional 😭

no background and close ups under the cut!

[woobab]

my half art trade with @yo-kai123 !!! I enjoyed drawing this one out! hope ya like it!!! 🫶❤️

(this will be my last art trade for a while, gonna take a small break <3)

[cawsceries]

@starwars-arttrade-2023 piece for @verndusk of her OCs Shoga and Twilight!! they were SO much fun to draw <3

[fiatluxillustration-portfolio]

Artist Proof Trading Cards [available now]

𝙵𝚒𝚊𝚝 𝙻𝚞𝚡 𝙸𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚜𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

| Visit InPrnt | Visit Etsy | Visit Digital Etsy | Visit Patreon | Visit the Portfolio

[owoyeetuwu]

Oc of @karritakar

[dankdungeonsrpg]

Synthesizer Nostalgia

Recently...

NAMM (the National Association of Musician Merchants) happened. It's a trade show for instruments that gets all sorts of YouTube coverage, particularly by channels interested in synthesizers.

This year something that I think is very very cool was shown... The Behringer BX1

This thing is amazing!

It's a recreation of Yamaha's 1983 DX1 instrument, which is legendary.

For starters it was the first FM Synthesizer, the first (I think) form of digital synthesis. The DX1 was also a beast, it effectively stacked two powerful synths on top of each other, allowing for layered, more complex sounds. A feature that didn't become standard until the '90s. It also had a key bed with polyphonic aftertouch, a feature not event standard today! (but we are starting to see more instruments with it in the last few years) Oh, and it was $14k ($45k adjusted for inflation).

Yamaha put out an excellent video about it if you want to hear it/know more:

Another notable thing about the DX1: only 140 were ever made.

The Sound of the '80s

Okay so the DX1 was kind of unobtainable, but its smaller (relatively) brother the DX7 was not. While it didn't have any of those rad features I mentioned, and was wildly difficult to program, the DX7 was still a first wave FM synth. It could do all sorts of things synths couldn't do before.

This became...a very big deal. It basically defined the music of an entire decade:

But There's More!

Did I say the Behringer BX1 was a clone of the Yamaha DX1? Well it's not just that. It's actually more than that!

See, the one big downside of digital synths is they tend to sound...cold. It's hard to describe, but their predecessors, analog synths, have a much warmer sound. I don't want to dwell on this because it's a lot but one way manufacturers can make a digital synth sound warmer is by using some analog components in it, particularly the filter.

Behringer knows this and decided to make their BX1 with analog filters, and not just any old analog filters, but the chips Yamaha used on their other legendary/expensive/small production synth: the CS80:

The instrument that scored Blade Runner.

Wait...Isn't This An RPG Blog?

Well that's just it, when I saw/read about/heard this thing I got the same feeling I had when I saw the Dolmenwood kickstarter.

Retro TTRPG people and retro synth people have a similar need. They both want to harken back to a distant time (the 70s/80s) and to tinker with the devices that produced these feelings.

One uses dice and mechanics to experience a kind of gameplay. The other uses filters and DCOs to experience a kind of music.

WotC becomes Roland Necrotic Gnome becomes Dreadbox B/X (as a system) becomes FM Synthesis The Moldvay Box Set becomes the DX7 Suddenly the Volca FM is an OSR darling retro clone.

okay so maybe it would make more sense to compare B/X to an analogue subtractive synthesis method instead of a digital additive one, but whatever

Dolmenwood is a recreation of an excellent old system with a lot of new features and ideas. The Behringer BX1 is a recreation of an excellent old synth with a lot of new features and ideas.

Bringing Back The Old School

These days the OSR is not only releasing new modules/systems/supplements, but importantly, its making them more accessible than ever.

OSE is a perfect example. It's a rewrite, but what a rewrite! It is so much easier to learn B/X with OSE than with the original books. Similarly, most (though certainly not all) classic modules don't hold a candle to the adventures coming out right now.

Accessibility is a big thing in the synth community as well.

Although in matters of pricing...we are talking about electronic instruments vs books, so bear that in mind.

An original DX1 goes for over $150k, but that BX1 clone? Probably going to cost $1,200. Behringer is also known for its Deepmind 12 synth, a $800 (sort of) clone of the '80s analog powerhouse known as the Juno 106.

Important to point out that many people go the virtual route for their classic synth clones as well. Software can (pretty accurately) emulate almost any vintage synth (and certainly any digital one). These can cost over $100 but that's still a total bargain.

Plus, you're looking at way more features on these modern units, not to mention software programmers. Creating sounds on these modern devices is way easier than their vintage counterparts...kind of like how OSE is way easier to grok than B/X.

Also, like the OSR, there isn't only one company making retro clone synths. Many companies (even the WotC equivalents) are making little retro affordable instruments. Others are taking old ideas and using them to inspire new products. Again, not unlike the OSR, NSR, or indie ttrpg sphere in general.

From both the OSR and the synth community the thing I always hear is: "this is the best time to be part of this hobby" and I think that's just great!

More Alike Than We'd Like

Worth noting as well that just like the RPG community, the synth community has drama.

Behringer particularly has come under scrutiny for creating clones of modern devices produced by other companies. While I don't feel informed enough on the situation to speak on it, there are been just as many YouTube videos and blog posts on the topic as any OSR kerfuffle.

The Future/The Past

Maybe I'm just a nostalgic kinda guy but I'm so excited to get my hands on more vintage inspired synths and more vintage inspired games. They can teach us that old ideas still have value and can benefit from modernization.

But before I do any of that...I think I have a line on a cheap Laserdisc player and some giant disk copies of the first two Bill & Ted movies...

[zahri-melitor]

If you want to read comics and you want to test the waters:-

Yes, RCO and clones exist, everyone uses them, I do it weekly too for titles I cannot access any other way (The Warlord) but let me tell you, it’s not the only option, particularly if you want to read reasonably modern comics back issues rather than deliberately suppressed obscure stuff. Plus, don’t you want to look at comics without worrying about getting viruses?

Your Local Library: your library probably has comics as trade paperbacks, and inter library loan will have more. It’s not the most consistent way to find things, but you should definitely look them up, there’s probably something there you’d be interested in reading. Good for having multiple presses, and most take suggestions for their collections, which is a slow but free way to read titles with highly detailed art like Wonder Woman Historia in person.

Digital libraries: my local libraries have ComicsPlus subscriptions, which I can use for free. Now you won’t get DC or Marvel on them, but BOOM!, Dark Horse, Image, Oni Press, Papercutz? All options. A really helpful way to easily sample other presses.

Internet Archive Library: the IA is again going to have an eclectic collection and be difficult to search, but it’s there and it has a lot of stuff and you’re not going to be worrying about computer viruses.

DCUI: if you’re in US, UK, Canada, AU or NZ, you can get a DCUI account. There’s a free trial available of course, and if what you’re interested in trying was published more than 6 months ago, you don’t even need to shell out for Ultra. It costs me less than a Netflix subscription per month, even for Ultra. There’s also a small handful of comics you’ll be able to access for free without ANY subscription - essentially advertising for new runs etc.

MU: just like DCUI, only Marvel, and available more places. Also runs on a subscription model. MU also has the quirk that you can manage digital ownership of individual issues also through their app (if you buy Marvel floppies there is a mechanism to obtain a legal digital copy within ~6 months of the publication date)

Local Comics Shops: you can also…buy floppies and trade paperbacks for yourself. If you really love a story and it’s out in trade, I highly recommend buying it for yourself to have forever. It just sidesteps so many future problems. An LCS is also more likely to have a back catalogue of titles available - if you’re looking for a trade published 8 years ago, they might have it while an ordinary bookshop won’t. If you’re less certain, events like Free Comic Book Day and Batman Day are largely a marketing exercise more than new original material these days, but they’re also a good way to get to handle and own actual comic books if you’ve never done that before.

Other bookshops: if you don’t have a local bookshop with a specialist comics and manga collection (I do) it’s going to be a bit like trying to find comics at your local library: you’ll see lots of stuff with Batman and Joker in the title, and a random selection of anything else. Sometimes you can get surprisingly good deals from them as collectors are less likely to use them to get titles.

Overstock/Remainder Sellers: always worth a look, particularly if you’re trying to pick up titles printed several years ago. My local one has found some absolute gems for me, at a significant discount (I have picked up parts of Dixon’s Nightwing run, Bennett’s Batwoman run, Rowell’s Runaways, some Wonder Woman trades from Rucka and Perez, Gotham Central, I just managed to get the second n52 Blue Beetle trade…)

EBay/second hand shops/Abebooks/Biblio: a decent way to measure what the actual value of a comic title is on the second hand market. Sometimes you can find that the market value is far lower than you expected (Cassie’s Wonder Girl series is remarkably affordable). In other occasions you realise DC is leaving a LOT of money on the table by not reprinting (look up Red Robin trade prices and weep).

Friends: do you know anyone else who likes comics? They may already own stuff they can loan to you! (Once I lent out my Birds of Prey collection to a friend and he returned it with the first two n52 titles added. Still unsure if that was meant to be a kindness or just letting me store them)

[starwars-art-events]

Art Event 4: Different Genres

Hello there!

This is an informal, for-fun art event, meant for any person who enjoys making art. This time, it's a two-parter: both a trade, and just a casual event for those who just wish to create art for themselves. It's a pressure-free event! No need to create a big masterpiece--just something you or others would happily enjoy.

The theme this time around is "Different Genres." You can choose any character(s) from any media(s) and put them into a different universe entirely. Make a clone a mermaid! Toss Thrawn into a K-drama! Hondo Ohnaka could sail the seas in the Golden Era of Piracy! Anakin Skywalker could be a Warrior cat! Whatever genre you can dream up, they could be in.

Types of art welcome:

Drawings (digital or scanned traditional)

Short comics

Short animation

Photo edits

Video edits (music or otherwise)

Music creation

Moodboards/photo collages

Quotes-and-photo collages

Other (contact moderator ASAP)

Dates to adhere to:

Deadline to join the trade: February 10th (There is no sign-up or deadline for free-posting individuals)

Dates to post: March 30th-31st

Rules:

For the trade: Joining requires creating art. To recieve art, you must create art! Simple as that. Many types of art are allowed (see above), and all can be adapted to how you wish to conceive yours.

You don't have to be "great" at any art to join! This is an informal event with no level restrictions. The important thing is that your art absolutely must have effort. For example, a moodboard should be cohesive, and it should contain enough photos that it could be worthy of giving as a gift. Make sure you are satisfied with what you are giving out (to your abilities levels, of course--don't expect the Star Wars Mona Lisa if you aren't to par with DaVinci's skills!).

This is an anonymous event. You will know who they are creating art for, but you will not know who you are recieving from! Until posting dates, please keep your art to yourself (or a trusted non-participating friend). In the words of Gandalf the Grey: Keep it secret; keep it safe.

Art should be created for your giftee based on things/characters/ideas they enjoy. Do a bit of "pseudo-stalking" (not real stalking) of their tags. See what the person enjoys, both in terms of mediums and concepts. If they have clone trooper OC's, base something off those guys! If they are a big Ezra Bridger fan, see what types of AUs they enjoy! If the concept of the Force makes them go wild, include that in your art! If you are at a loss for ideas, send an anon message to the person to see what they are interested in OR contact the moderator.

Please sign up only ONCE. You will recieve art from only ONE artist. The artist may wish to give you more than one piece of art, but it will only be from THAT artist alone. If you wish to make more art for someone else, arrange that on your own time, please!

If you need to drop out, that is okay! Things happen. You are able to drop out at any time. Please contact the moderator ASAP if you need to drop. Please understand that the other artists are putting their own time and effort into their pieces. The artist gifting their time and effort to you is no longer obligated to do so anymore. If you drop out, they are completely allowed to drop, too.

Important note: All skin tones and disabilities must be accurately portrayed. No skin tone should be lighter than the actor/character's actual skin colour. Disabilities must be depicted correctly. If not, you will be dropped. The same goes for respecting canon cultures. Please refrain from depicting Children of the Watch or Tuskens without their garments, unless the scenario is explicitly of situations where the removal of clothing/armour/helms is acceptable. Please cover the heads of Twi'lek women, and that of Mirialans. These requests are not only personal wishes of the moderators, but also just basic decency. Do your research portraying someone different than you. Do not fall prey to harmful tropes. This hurts others..

IF YOU HAVE ANY FURTHER QUESTIONS, PLEASE DM THE MODERATOR. You may do so here, or at @engagemythrusters or @darlin-djarin.

Sign Up Form for Trade Here

Thanks, all!

[mariacallous]

One of JD Vance’s key policy advisers, Aaron Kofsky, has for years posted extensively on Reddit about using a variety of drugs, including cocaine and opiates, under the username PsychoticMammal. In the posts, which are as recent as three months ago, Kofsky wrote about experiencing withdrawal from and trying to “kick” tianeptine—also known as “gas station heroin”—and kratom; advised other users on how to transport drugs on domestic flights; and called Vance “a Trump boot licker.”

According to his LinkedIn profile, Kofsky, who is in his late twenties, has been advising Vance on financial policy since this past May, and has been working in the vice presidential nominee’s Senate office since March of last year. A recent Politico article on Vance’s “inner circle” described Kofsky as helping the senator “flesh out his opposition to some cryptocurrency regulation and his effort to introduce new banking regulations after the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank.”

Before working for Vance, Kofsky worked for the Senate Banking, Housing, and Urban Affairs Committee and as a policy adviser to Securities and Exchange Commissioner Mark Uyeda. The crypto industry has seen Vance as an ally since he ran for Senate in the 2022 election and then disclosed that he personally owned more than $100,000 in Bitcoin. Kofsky has criticized SEC chair Gary Gensler’s heavy-handed approach to crypto regulation multiple times on X. Over the summer, Vance circulated a draft bill that would remove much of the authority the SEC and the Commodity Futures Trading Commission have over governing digital currency. At the time, Politico called the bill one of the more “industry-friendly” pieces of legislation.

A WIRED investigation shows Kofsky is also the person posting as PsychoticMammal. The account has posted personal details that precisely match Kofsky’s résumé, and has linked to a little-followed Instagram account dedicated to photos of Kofsky wearing preppy outfits. A review of publicly available material from data breaches provided by Constella Intelligence shows that Kofsky’s personal email address was used to set up a “PsychoMammal” account on a photography site. Furthermore, the PsychoticMammal name was used on Poshmark by a user whose avatar is a photo of Kofsky. It was also used on Tumblr by someone who linked to—and claimed as his own—a Blogspot maintained by a user named Aaron Kofsky, who posted personal details that match details of Kofsky’s biography.

The posts made by Kofsky stand in stark contrast to Vance’s own statements related to drug crime. Since being elected to the Senate in 2022, he has positioned himself as a leader in preventing fentanyl trafficking and, as recently as August, has said the Trump–Vance administration would support use of the death penalty as punishment against drug dealers. Vance, who has spoken at length about fentanyl trafficking, rose to prominence as the author of a book that discussed his mother’s drug addiction, which he referenced during his Republican National Convention speech this summer. He also argued that Democrats are letting drugs cross the border from Mexico.

After WIRED contacted Kofsky for comment, some of PsychoticMammal’s posts about drugs were deleted, and their Poshmark avatar was changed to a picture of characters from the Star Wars movie Attack of the Clones. Parker Magid, a spokesperson for Vance’s Senate office, provided a statement from Kofsky.

“Like millions of Americans,” the statement reads, “I’ve struggled with drug use, which in my case was mostly an attempt to self medicate against the effects of epilepsy and epilepsy medication. I deeply regret posting these comments. I’m not proud of this and I’m embarrassed it’s being publicized in this way, but I am thankful to say that part of my life is behind me.”

For the past 11 years, PsychoticMammal has used Reddit to document their use of a variety of drugs including cocaine, tianeptine, kratom, oxycodone, Ritalin, and MDMA. In one post from eight years ago, they listed all of the drugs they had tried to that point, rating them on a scale of one to 10.

These drug-related posts have continued while Kofsky has been employed by the Senate. In May 2022, for example, PsychoticMammal responded to a post in the r/Cocaine subreddit, giving advice on how to smuggle drugs past airport security.

“Putting a bag in between pages of a book or in your wallet is also a safe bet,” they wrote. “TSA xray machines just show different types of material as different colors. What they’re looking for is metal. Since most book covers also have plastic in them, it’ll just all show up as the same color. I’ve never had an issue.”

In January, PsychoticMammal posted a video from a Senate committee hearing in which Vance questions a former Drug Enforcement Administration agent on the increasing use of nitazenes, or manufactured opioids; Kofsky appears in the background. They posted the video on several drug-related subreddits, including r/Opioid_RCs, r/Drugs, r/Opiates, and r/ObscureDrugs.

PsychoticMammal also posted it in r/ResearchChemicals, writing, “Surprising! Politician knows about nitazenes. Ohio Senator JD Vance Asks Witness About Nitzenes. Is it just me, or is this super surprisng? Like I’m just confused how this guy had heard of zenes? I can’t imagine any of his colleagues know anything about them.”

A different user commented on the post, pointing out Kofsky and writing, “that dude on the right behind him looks high on something lol.”

PsychoticMammal then agreed with the user, writing, “Haha I didn’t notice that guy before. His eyes are def buggin. Maybe snorted some ole white girl beforehand? I’m sure half of congress rails lines.”

Later on in the thread, a different user accused PsychoticMammal of being Vance because the linked video was unlisted. “Unlisted? 21 views? Senator Vance, is that you?”

“Lol I wish! Would love to be rolling in the dough like him and his VC buddies,” PsychoticMammal replied. “Honestly when I first watched this the thought kinda crossed my mind that maybe he’s familiar because he is a fan himself, but I feel like that’s doubtful given his politics. I’m sure there are a few congressmen who indulge, but I doubt they’re using zenes or other RCs [research chemicals]. Seems like a coke kinda job.”

In the comments of a now deleted post on r/ObscureDrugs, PsychoticMammal, responding to a user claiming that nitazenes are not obscure drugs, called Vance a “Trump boot licker.”

“I just can’t believe that this Trump boot licker Vance is ahead of the curve here,” the comments reads.

PsychoticMammal described numerous instances of drug use in posts dating from the time Kofsky worked for then senator Pat Toomey and Vance. “I love coke on its own, mixed with benzos, mixed with opiates (my fav tbh), and even love a line or two after smoking a few bowls. I’d even say that coke is my second favorite drug behind opiates,” they wrote earlier this year. In May of last year, they wrote about “my latest tianeptine binge which has skyrocketed my tolerance” and “hoping to finally kick Tia”—references to an unscheduled antidepressant that produces an effect similar to opioids and which is banned in 12 states and commonly sold at convenience stores. In May 2022, they wrote: “Coke then opiates is always my go-to. I only speedball if I have enough opiates to redose when I’m out of blow.”

PsychoticMammal has repeatedly posted about suffering from an addiction to tianeptine. In a post from last year titled “ODSMT for Tianeptine Withdrawals,” they wrote, “I’m trying to figure out what the tianeptine to ODSMT equivalent dose conversion is. I have a few grams of ODSMT coming in the mail and hoping to finally kick Tia using it.”

PsychoticMammal has also repeatedly referenced using kratom, a substance sourced from the leaves of a Southeast Asian tree that mimics the effects of opioids and is often sold at corner stores and smoke shops. Two years ago, in response to a Reddit user who was seeking pain relief, they wrote: “I’ve dabbled in every drug you can think of—kratom is the one drug that really tripped me up and I found myself addicted to. Not sure what it was about it as it’s like a much milder opiate, but man that shit was hell for me to quit.”

WIRED’s investigation shows that Kofsky appears to be closely tied to the PsychoticMammal username across the internet. In 2013, for example, PsychoticMammal wrote that they were a ski instructor at the same resort, Boston Mills Brandywine Ski Resorts, that Kofsky lists as a past employer on his LinkedIn profile, and which he spoke about to Cleveland Magazine in a 2014 profile of notable area students. In another post from earlier this year, PsychoticMammal referred to the resort as their “home hill.”

In a separate post from November 2013, PsychoticMammal replied to a post about a St. Vincent–St. Mary High School football game, suggesting that they went to that school and correctly listing the final score of the game. Kofsky’s LinkedIn account lists the Akron, Ohio–based school as his former high school, and he is listed as a 2015 graduate in the school magazine.

PsychoticMammal also shared a link to an Instagram account that has posted photos of Kofsky. In a post to the r/RalphLauren subreddit six months ago, the PsychoticMammal account linked to @notyourmotherspreppy, a men’s style account that shows Kofsky wearing preppy outfits. “Anyone know what sweater this is?” the post says. The image of Kofsky used in the August Politico article also appears to be from this Instagram account. He is wearing the same vintage 1989 Ralph Lauren Country Patchwork Sweater on the Instagram account and the image used in Politico.

Before WIRED asked Kofsky for comment, a Poshmark account with the username PsychoticMammal started in 2018 used a photo of Kofsky as its avatar and listed the real name of the user as “Aaron K.” A Blogspot user named PsychoticMammal wrote about being Jewish and going to Catholic school—experiences that match Kofsky’s, according to the Cleveland Magazine article. And a VSCO account registered with Kofsky’s personal Gmail account, according to publicly available material from a data breach, also uses the name PsychoticMammal.

As recently as three months ago, PsychoticMammal posted to the r/7_hydroxymitragynine subreddit asking for help locating one of the compounds found in kratom in DC, Northern Virginia, or Maryland.

[neonpaperlanterns]

Sometimes I worry that I would forget to mark anonymous one day and just... lose the magic that makes me, Sunny anon... Just wanted to air that out.

Transformers prime thought. Do you think it'd be interesting if a vehicon or two (I think I spelled that right) defected to the autobots? Like... they finally have a flyer-type ally, but said ally is terrified of them because of just what they have done to other vehicons. Given that they all essentially look like clones. I'm going with them being clones. Which means that Buckhead could tear out their insides like in one of the first episodes of TFP. And anyone minus a human could easily tear them apart too.

Maybe they end up having a interaction with one of the autobots, shouting that they are more than just a clone of a con. And this flyer can't really fly solo. Starscream did that and he pretty much barely survived, lost his Tgog. Granted, Starscream shares the survivalability of a roach. But still, that just adds to the reason this defector would stay with the autobots. They are a clone of someone who isn't that durable Cybertronian-wise. The Jack of all trades, can dish out some damage and can take some.

I imagine it'd be real awkward (and hurtful) whenever someone starts stating how many cons they scrapped like it was a high score in some game... Vehicons need some love.

-Sunny Anon

[A/n: If you forgot to put it as anonymous I would screenshot the ask and crop out the username so I could still answer it but delete the original ask. You username would slip from my mind like what I had for breakfast.]

Stand Up

They were doing it again. Boasting about how many Cons they were able to offline. Bumblebee with 22, Smokescreen at 16, Arcee with 24, Bulkhead with 26, and coming in first was Wheeljack with 150. The Bots were arguing that it shouldn't count if there were bombs involved. Sighting it wasn't really Wheeljack who took them out.

Finch curled his servos, digits digging into the metal as they carried on. Oblivious of the other two occupants in the room. BlueJay wanted to leave, wings turned down and their field pulled in tight around them as they urged the other vehicon to come with them. But they were doing it again and Finch was so tired of hearing how proud they were.

He felt like they didn't matter. Like they were back on the Nemesis. Just disposable clones meant for nothing more than to die fighting a war they did not get to choose.

And he has had enough!

"Do you think this is a game!?" He heard himself shout. BlueJay flinched but didn't let go of him.

"Do we matter so little that you can stand around arguing about whether bombs count as if you didn't just murder a couple hundred other Cybertronians?" He asked them, genuinely curious but not caring for an answer right now.

"Fin-" He stopped Bulkhead before he could even begin.

"No I'm not done!" Finch slammed his pede into the floor. "It hurts the way you talk about killing us. How unbothered you are but I remember the remorse that was felt over Skyquake or the concern you-" He stabs a digit at Bulkhead "Felt about what happened to Breakdown." He felt BlueJay's grip tighten, the plating denting just a little as they took in a shaky ex-vent.

"It's like you care more about them than us." BlueJay spoke quietly but the silence that deafened the room assured that everyone heard them.

"Do you not view us as equal to the likes of Breakdown and the others? Are we less in your optics?" Their voice wavered and filled with static near the end.

There was a beat where nothing happened. No one moved, no one made a sound.

Then suddenly all the Bots were talking. Their words falling over each other as they defended themselves. As they apologized. As they reassured. But Finch didn't want to hear it. Not right now. Not when it felt forced. He threaded his digits through BlueJay's and stormed out of the room. They were being followed but it didn't matter. The Bots couldn't follow them up into the clouds.

[yourneighborhoodporg]

The Guardian

Chapter 11: Alone (Part 2)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Warnings: ANGST (like, hella angst), non-canon character deaths, descriptions of violence, animal injury/death (I’M SORRY), Reader experiencing Trauma TM, Obi doing his best.

Summary: While leading a clone battalion through a routine supply delivery, you suffer a surprise ambush. However, with Obi-Wan away leading the rendezvous as he simultaneously investigates new elements surrounding your being, you are left alone to make the hard-hitting decisions expected of leaders during The Clone Wars. But when the present meshes with the past, how will you perform as deeply buried struggles are forced to the surface?

Song Inspo: Alone — Neil Finn

Words: 9.1K

A/n: Oh boy, this one is gonna be heavy y'all. And that's all I'll say. Enjoy 😈

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

You lose them a thousand times in a thousand ways. You say a thousand goodbyes. You hold a thousand funerals — Sara Seager

“80% of the containers have been secured in the port bay with the rest being carried in as we speak,” Boil relayed, pointed finger strictly scrolling through his datapad that hummed a striking cobalt glow amidst Lanos’s softer, earthy tones.

He stood at the ready to your left with his helm resting under an arm, taking in each and every two-to-three digit number emanating from the device while you surveyed the array of pale blue repulsersleds bustling atop the port’s grayed, metal landing platform. Ferrying tightly strapped cargo into the bay alongside their clone guardians like a flawless, tapered conveyor belt adhering to a strict timetable.

Most notable, however, was the way this living machine collectively dwarfed the sporadic bands of clone lieutenants who, toting their own Republic-issued datapads, coordinated delivery logistics with counterpart supply port stationaries. Though the brighter energies that rippled through the Force certainly haggled for a higher podium, as the latter of those two, similarity garbed groups seemed all the more enlivened by the marginal increase in activity on such an otherwise docile planet.

“The station Sergeant is currently off-base engaging another matter—,” Boil mentioned off-handedly. “—but sends his regards.”

“Thanks, Boil,” you hummed, silver orbs drifting beyond the organized fuss that circled like bees calculating predetermined patterns long ago inscribed in their very DNA.

Those same eyes flitted by the steel, square-cut terrace’s narrowed path which assumed the shape of a bottleneck in its stretch through the far, inner bay. Then, past the raised, blocky, metallic structure trading in checkered viewports for highly reinforced paneling. One that every day offered the station’s clones a welcome retreat from the planet’s emphatically beating, yellow sun. Just as it shielded them from any other element posing as a threat to the Republic’s mission.

To its perseverance through this war.

“I suppose the next step is to finish the delivery before regrouping to return to The Negotiator,” you evenly deduced. “Right?”

The sharp-eyed clone offered a slight nod. “Affirmative.”

But even foreign structures that cried Coruscanti architecture and hammered down brutalist design amidst Lanos’s creamy breezes and florid expanse did little to hold your attention. Those motionless, gray confines battling against any root or creeping vine that dared to snake under its foundation or slither across its walls failed to yank at your outer lip’s muscles.

At least, not with a vigor comparable to the involuntary jolt you felt strike those same nerves just from the swiping flash of a certain bunch of saffron fur scampering by the tree line.

Though, in spite of the curious, fox-like creature’s daring attempts to acquire the title ‘Honorary Republic Recruit’ from afar, the attentive animal still maintained a devoted caution as they steered a wide berth around the manmade metals which, like a disease, thinned the once lusciously stretching trees bordering its walls.

Instead, the well-groomed critter found temporary solace in nuzzling their tail with cheerfully squinted eyes amidst the deeper, healthier greens and sturdier trunks carrying thicker bark. A microcosm of the wider forest’s hilly character, which rolled around the entrenched, and fairly hidden, compound before flinging back out again for miles, like massive waves frozen in time millennia ago to house a countless abundance of life.

“If you’re worried about that animal interfering with platform operations, I can send a few boys to scare it off.”

“No, no,” you quickly assured with a flicking wave of your hand, dismissing the no-nonsense clone while silver eyes strung to distant, peering yellows.

“That’s alright. They aren’t hurting anyone. Just curious.”

“Understood,” he asserted quickly before stretching back into his planned briefing with a muscle memory akin to the dash of his head toward the glowing datapad.

“Because the storm has cleared it should be an easy takeoff. The shuttles will be able to meet us at port.”

“Sounds like our legs will finally get a break,” you teased lightly, sending the horseshoe-bearded man a knowing glance.

A deep, throaty chuckle fell from his lips as you lifted a few fingers to flit away another droplet of sweat rushing down your forehead from the increasingly belting heat and weakening gusts whose dying breaths failed to chill the air.

“I certainly hope—“

A sharp, singeing thread tugged at your prickling senses from within the Force, snapping your neck toward the source of the sensation before the flaring, scarlet bolt rapidly consuming your vision launched your nimble body, arms fanned out, to roughly shove Boil out of the way. Sending you both tumbling toward the unforgiving ground as the steaming blaze just barely hurled above each of your heads.

“Ambush!” You screamed after sorely rolling off the rather surprised clone and onto a less bruised back, primary hand clawing for your belt.

Your madly thrashing heart reigned into a steady chill with the initial pulse of adrenaline beginning to wean. And by pure chance alone, it was in that very brief second, as blood rushed past ear drums, that you began to feel an unexpectedly sudden heat center on your left wrist.

Thrusting that very arm up and into your vision, you spotted the sporadic, bubbling crackles and scarlet sparks of a damaged wrist comm whose drooping, dark metal structure threatened to melt into your already itching arm.

Quickly, you scrambled to your feet, right hand tightly wrapped around your unclasped saber as you levied it to thwack off the sizzling comm, permitting the decaying device to clatter across the dense platform as it sibilated into spare parts.

Having freed yourself of that discomfort, you swiftly ignited the saber’s buzzing, gray glow before angling toward the damage-inflicting direction. Yet even still amidst such a swift spin, you couldn’t help but absorb just how the landscape’s bright aura, which once overshadowed the rear port’s barren metallurgic twilight, now hung moodier as peaceful woods suddenly turned not so serene.

Emerging from the left side of a large hill positioned before the facility appeared an ever-growing array of creaking and whining metallic beasts.

With the prickling hairs atop the nape of your neck, you felt as the rear clones rushed to their assigned stations while a line of at least ten… twenty….. thirty and counting mustard yellow, beaked droids carrying stringy arms and legs jounced through the ground’s apex with grimy, heavy-duty blasters secured in hand.

Interspersed within their ranks and towering at least triple their size inched forward a darker, all-encompassing model whose pointed soles shredded verdant grass into marred, brittle soil. Colicoid-like droids that commanded three jointed legs, two weaponized arms, and a spine contorting into some sort of red-fanged face that curved inwards, all behind a spherical shield which quivered a transparent blue.

That’s what must’ve nearly hit Boil, you surmised, when another one of those cold, rigid arms blasted off a similarly behaved bolt toward a far cargo container. Shattering it into scattering, hot white-and-red shards, and sending a few nearby clones flying by some feet as a cacophony of shocked yells stalked their paths.

And, unfortunately, it appeared that second blast was enough to effectively signal the rest of the progressively expanding battalion to finally commence their full-fledged attack.

Streaks of thick, fiery crimson, slender orange, and harsh blue beams coated the sky like violent patchwork, darkening the planet’s once stilled and luscious atmosphere into one of rising, smoky death. Filling your nostrils with the noxious scent of burning plasma and battering your eardrums with strained voices that desperately shouted all around you.

“Men, with me!”

“I need help over here!”

“Medic!”

“Move back! Move back!”

“You two, blast ‘em Rollies!”

Their echoes careened over the sharp buzz of your saber as it swung through the air to collide with showering beams. And while, foregoing your long lost wrist comm, you remained relatively unscathed, you still struggled to afford the men fighting alongside you that same luxury.

Far to your left, a quintet of clones gradually retreated through a clean, V-formation as blue spires erupted from their phasers. Only for the incoming brigade’s ceaseless fire to clip the far right soldier’s arm, tearing at his upper plate which oozed a deep crimson athwart its snowy glaze.

Another profuse liberation of deadly rain, and an additional victim emerged as a flaming, hot bolt dug its way through the stepping foot of one of the middlemen, eliciting a pained groan while smoke sprang from the blackening wound.

You tried to help them. Mostly by tapping into their interlinkage with the all-encompassing Force as you’d discovered to do in recent weeks. Relying on this riddled tactic to empower your connection against insurmountable odds as you shoved pre-fired blaster heads into non-lethal directions and tugged out the legs from underneath yellowed battle droids while their brethren marched on unfazed and unfettered.

It wasn’t a chief, battle-altering tactic, but it was sure to meet at least one goal you had in mind: doing everything in your power to give the clones around you those precious, few extra seconds needed to seek cover from this overwhelmingly multiplying attack force.

But you only had so much to give.

No matter what, you couldn’t take your eyes off the eternal task of reflecting away each bolt that careened toward your person. And that was all while making every attempt to reduce the droid’s numbers with a deliberate swipe of your saber or a dexterous application of the Force. But it was when you considered the added responsibility of aiding any nearby clone struggling to defend against perpetually growing enemy numbers that the muddling task became quite daunting.

Suddenly, the corner of your vision caught a familiar, garish tone, drawing your gaze back behind the gradually receding quintet and toward a clone marked by an unavoidable, olive-green circle. A symbol that would’ve blended with the planet’s wider greenery had the billowing plasmic smoke been given enough time to clear.

However, unlike the rest of the platoon, this particular soldier chose instead to steadily march forward, soon passing the withdrawing V-formation like passing ships in the wildest of starless space sectors as he covered their retreat with an azure floodlight of bolts flying from his blaster.

“Get back, Getter!” You commanded, saber swinging elegantly in a controlled retreat as you sent an occasional hard glance toward the disobedient clone.

“I’m Forward Line!” He shouted through the muffled feedback of his sound-amplified helmet, failing to spare any glance away from the threat that marched head-on.

His feet crept forward, indefinite tone communicating his plans while the increasing barrage of bolts threatened your versatility.

“I’ll cove—“

A dense, blistering flare of plasma swiped straight through the eye of Getter’s helmet, leaving a charred, flaky perforation in its place that stifled his body like an off-switch.

He didn’t even tense.

Instead, the moment gravity recalled its birthright, he collapsed like a rag doll. Simply becoming a jumbled pile of arms and legs.

Your jaw slackened as a pinprick chill consumed your body.

“Silvey! Orders!?” Boil cried from close behind as his blaster ricocheted into the panoramic mob.

Row upon row unfurled across the hill’s peak, spilling into the valley’s depths like loose marbles from an endlessly deep bucket.

Though the frigidity that repeatedly ripped down your spine seemed to momentarily disconnect you from its horror as your mind focused on the present threat.

Those larger, curved ‘Rollies’ could transform into whirling spheres, empowering them to rocket down the hillside. Treating anything you were unable to Force shove away in time, be it scattered equipment or Front Line clones, like loose pins for the taking.

And it seemed, as your brain dizzied at the lives being ripped out of good men’s hands, that such a manipulation considered effortlessly simple by any Jedi was becoming too much of a task.

“Get a comm to Kenobi that we need reinforcements yesterday!—“ You yelled somewhat hazily as your mind desperately centered a connective blanket around one of the barreling Rollies so to redirect it into another speeding down beside it, coercing their shields to interact and combust into blue sparks and stinging flames.

You heaved in another gasp of chemically tinted, plasmic smoke.

“—And to bring any ideas on how to cut off this slope! Else we’re sitting ducks!”

“Copy!” He called before you sensed him spin on his heel toward the rear command center.

Until your next words stopped him in his tracks.

Because Getter’s sacrifice wouldn’t be in vain.

And you needed to do something.

“I’m getting in the trenches to try to cut these rolling things off!”

You creaked your neck sideways as another hot blast whizzed past your tingling ear.

“You’ll need support!” He advised with a hand cupping his mouth. “I’ll redirect a few boys your way!”

Another bolt diverted toward an unsuspecting set of droids smashed a few of the batch’s heads together.

“No!” You slammed, fending off another wall of vivid fire.

No more men die today.

They can’t.

Not during your first command.

Not ever.

Not after—

No.

“You focus on getting that message to the General,” you continued with gritted teeth, saber spinning into a swelling, pallid fireball. “If I need help, I’ll ask. Now go!”

His boots squeaked against the once sun-dried platform, now spattered with occasional streaks of thick, deep-crimsoned goop. Smattering the sound of his voice as the subtle scent of copper trailed in the air like itinerant pollen that clogged your sinuses and sullied your tastebuds.

“Comm to me in the bay!”

—

Oh, Anakin.

That was the repetitive acknowledgment encircling Obi-Wan’s thoughts as he silently observed Master Yoda, Master Windu, and Chancellor Palpatine’s shivering, blue holocomms occasionally snap out of shape, all while he stood casually in one of the ship’s empty, gray conference rooms to ensure a private meeting.

Calling from such distances was sure to elicit additional signal disturbances, and, sometimes, would even cause temporary blackouts. But fortunately, or unfortunately, for the General, none of those occurrences prevented Kenobi from discovering his former Padawan’s unsanctioned change of plans through a similar comm exchange a few hours ago.

Of course, it was his responsibility to ensure the arrival of the escort in Anakin’s charge. Maybe that’s because, whether tied to the mission or not, Obi-Wan always seemed to be the first to learn about Skywalker’s impulsive decisions. This time being his insubordinate choice to rope his own Padawan into a patched-together rescue mission following ambivalent reports regarding Master Plo Koon’s fleet.

He certainly always found a way, didn’t he?

Yes, technically, because it was just Anakin and Ahsoka redeploying, then the convoys would be unrestricted in meeting the arranged rendezvous with the rest of the fleet.

But still, Skywalker was a General now. Could that chestnut-haired man not go off on his own without at least informing another Jedi tasked with this mission first?

Anakin could have told him.

And, honestly, while Kenobi knew he would’ve put up a bit of a fight at the suggestion of such a change of plans, the Jedi Master still fully comprehended that, in the end, he had the trust to watch his former Padawan go.

Because, deep down, Obi-Wan knew that, despite the potential strategic sacrifice, it was the right thing to do.

Not that he had much choice to do anything else since Skywalker had already arrived at the attack site.

And now, consequentially, in his station as both military General and Jedi Council member, Kenobi was the one required to deliver this pesky news to the necessary officials in his place.

“Twice the trouble, they have become,” Master Yoda sighed, rounded eyes dribbling toward the ground in contemplation. “A reckless decision, Skywalker has made.”

The weary Chancellor’s snow-white furrow deepened. “Let us hope it is not a costly one.”

Palpatine exhaled gradually, dipping gaze giving room for the three Jedi hovering subserviently in his presence a moment to absorb the flickers of combat fatigue that affected the deciding politician. Though, despite the momentary pause, the Chancellor was quick to recover, flicking his far-out stare toward the trio with a manufactured smile that struggled to assure that he was, in fact, quite alright.

“I do apologize, gentleman, but I have another meeting with the Senator from Kestos Minor shortly, so I must leave you.”

“Of course, Chancellor,” Kenobi acknowledged for the Jedi in attendance.

And with that, the former Senator’s unstable image evaporated into azure sparks before fading into the room’s wider darkness.

“An eye on your former Padawan, you must keep,” Master Yoda noted, motioning a hand clasped around his irregularly curved gimer stick toward Kenobi. “An update, I request, next we meet.”

“Yes, Master Yoda,” Obi-Wan assured. “I will keep track of him.”

But not before addressing the puckering questions that prodded his brain tissue all afternoon.

At least, ever since speaking with you.

“Do you have a moment, Master Windu?” Kenobi questioned, just as the Grand Master’s digital picture similarly flickered into cerulean specks of nothingness.

The older Master glanced at Obi-Wan out of his peripheral, torso still respectively angled toward the empty cavity where Yoda’s silhouette once stood before smoothly pivoting with a subtly tilted neck toward the inquisitive Jedi.

“I do,” he punctuated with taught features. “And what is this regarding?”

“Silvey,” Obi-Wan plainly replied, allowing his voice alone to carry him through the next few seconds so to disallow himself from failing to speak of these matters at all.

“I was made aware earlier today that they were not fully informed of their condition following the incident. As their Master, and the one tasked with notifying them in place of the Healer, I was hoping to inquire as to why?”

A blank stare of unreadable stillness crossed the thousand light years in a fashion only Mace Windu, complexion of secrets and answers, could achieve.

“As their advisor, I provided only necessary information,” he clarified simply with the gesturing support of his hand. “It was unnecessary to subject Silvey to the past when they successfully recovered.”

Obi-Wan’s lips twitched into an imperceptibly partial frown.

Perhaps Master Windu… knew more than he was letting on?

He talked of deeming certain details imperative to share, which could suggest that there were facts being kept secret, even from you, for reasons beyond the bearded Jedi’s current knowledge.

At least, that’s what Obi-Wan convinced himself.

It would be the only explanation for such a decision, he thought. For seemingly sending you on a mission without any concern for the unknown factors at play, and for this indefinite justification of why.

That would be the only thing that made any lick of sense.

And that also could’ve meant, maybe, just maybe, Kenobi wasn’t the only one beginning to sense remnants of your mind within the Force.

Perhaps Mace Windu already discovered this development. Or perhaps, it was even possible the elder Master had something to do with it.

That, as your ‘advisor,’ he was already a few steps ahead. And that, in your meditation sessions, he found something. Triggered something.

Knew something.

Either way, the General desired to understand.

“And how are we to know that?” Kenobi tested carefully, eyeing the strict Jedi’s cheekbones for any small, reflexive hint. “You yourself admitted to an inability to perceive their mind, the cause of these headaches, or the incident’s nature. By those facts alone, how can it be possible to assume that this is truly in the past?”

Pressing his lips into a thin line with arms confidently folded into themselves, Master Windu intrepidly spoke as broadened shoulders secured his stance.

“The Republic is in need of more Jedi on the field. You of all people are aware of that fact, Master Kenobi,” he stated. “I made the most reasonable decision given our circumstances. Such details are not of our immediate concern. We cannot afford it.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the taught string of confusion and wiry cords of astonishment that knit across his forehead, muscling down the rest of his features like a sudden tug on the loose end of an interwoven thread.

Mace knew nothing.

And, with that in mind, Kenobi never expected such indifference to be applied to a situation deemed incomprehensible by even the Grand Master himself a few days earlier. Toward a state of affairs clouded by the ever-living Force in a plum of enigmatic readings, which, to the Council, was always a less than desirable sign.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

Said the Code.

So then to brush this all off? And dismiss its repercussions to his own mentee, no less.

Obi-Wan raised a hand, curling a few knuckles to provide his chin a thoughtful rest. All in an attempt to imbue the Force with interim civility as his mind rapidly flipped through Mace’s words.

And it didn’t take long for him to realize that all this… Every decision made concerning you…

It was this war.

It was changing Windu like it was changing all of them. All the Jedi. Causing them to lose sight of what was once important in the days before the Battle of Geonosis.

But this wasn’t right.

Something was clearly influencing you. And, despite the Republic’s shifting priorities, Mace needed to be reminded that this situation, no matter how diverting, was just as important to the Council’s overarching mission as its efforts in this war.

To the Jedi’s purpose.

To peace.

These headaches and their culminated crisis may have evolved into a creature of the past. But it was their state of unpredictability, and the Galaxy-altering implications of a Guardian thrown from commission, which convinced Kenobi that the Council mustn’t lose sight of such solemnity. Especially not during a decade in which the Grand Master sensed the Force to have grown, in some pockets, indecipherable.

And no matter what, you deserved to know the full nature of these incidents.

Obi-Wan’s jaw released, poking away the useless support of bent fingers as his arm fell to the side at a rate equal to the blooming resolution which consumed the bearded man’s blue-eyed countenance. A visual marker, or signature stamp, of the Master Jedi’s acceptance that no war would stymie him from making these very thoughts known to the glitching holocomm across from him.

So much so, that he nearly missed the echoing chime of the conference room’s automatic door as its mechanics whirred open.

“General!”

Kenobi’s neck snapped toward the urgent inflection shimmering from Commander Cody’s tensed lips, just as brightly as the orange embellishments accenting his trooper armor reflected the white lights streaming overhead.

He was leaned into a forward stance, a puff of air proving him not a still-life statue as he caught his balance. All in an effort to suddenly halt a spirited sprint into the conference room that eventually, from the exertion alone, impelled him to expel the rest.

“There’s been a surprise attack on the supply port and the platoon left behind on Lanos.”

A dryness consumed Kenobi’s tongue as another simply armored clone dashed through the same whirring, mechanical door. Sprightly stepping up to whisper a few quick words to his Commander just before the aperture behind him buzzed shut once more.

“Reports of heavy casualties,” Cody parroted with an ear leaned toward the newly arrived lieutenant. “And they are requesting immediate reinforcements.”

“I will leave you to address this more immediate concern, Master Kenobi,” Windu relayed from the twitching holocomm image strikingly emanating from behind; his expression stilled except for the subtle twinge of disappointment drooping the outer corners of his eyes.

“Yes,” Obi-Wan affirmed, clearing his voice as moisture coated a tickling throat.

At least enough for him to sign off with one final message aimed toward his fellow Council member.

“I will see you at the rendezvous.”

—

A burning ache entangled each limb’s muscles like winding vines as you fended off the coming onslaught. Centering yourself in the lowest dip of the valley’s crease wasn’t necessarily the most strategic move given your current predicament. Especially considering it labeled your dodging figure as prime target practice for the ropes of Rollies that erratically spun down the hillside at spine-chilling speeds.

But you didn’t have any choice.

Not if you hoped to become an unbreakable barrier of pure might and agility, impeding a near three-hundred mix of droids threatening the platoon’s lives who hastily regrouped behind you.

Various squad formations would mark the best vantage points atop the port’s landing platform from which to lay fire upon the siege. Though that was the extent to which the battalion could effectively participate. Joining you in the, quite literal, trenches was a death sentence to any non-Force Sensitive individual hoping to take a stand against an attacking strength of this magnitude.

It was your ability, and your ability alone, to navigate the rapidly shifting elements of surrounding energies that empowered you to fight in their place while dodging and manipulating droids who shot walls of steady fire or suddenly sprung at you with their dense, steel bodies.

Yet, no matter your resilience, you still possessed the same weakness every other living being faced in adrenalizing circumstances.

You were growing quite exhausted.

“Reinforcements are almost here!” You heard Boil yell from far behind while he used a nearby repulsersled flipped into a makeshift shield to traverse the compound drowned in chemical fires and bloodied chaos. “You can’t stay there forever!”

You wrapped your fingers around the air as invisible claws shimmied their way around a Rollie barreling toward your figure before rapidly thrusting that same fist to the side, leading the machine’s suddenly bouncing trajectory to hurtle into a group of about eight battle droids.

One in particular sluggishly swiveled its head toward the oncoming sight with subtle reservation as it expelled creaky, undulating words.

“Oh no.”

Until they became another scattered pile of far-flung, broken parts, an explosion colored by blasting crimson and cobalt sparks.

“I’m gonna have to!” You called back, the swing of your saber nearly transforming into a cloudy blur of heat before your very, watering eyes as you deflected bolt after bolt while sidestepping through the uneven hollow. “We’ll lose our only advantage!”

“Excuse me for saying, Silvey, but I think that losing a Jedi will be cutting our advantage!”

You knew he was right.

But you were quickly learning that in war, there was no easy choice.

You weren’t going to lose anyone else.

Maker… you couldn’t.

You just… couldn’t.

A scorching, slash clawed into your left calf, electrifying all the way down to your ankle as a surprised yelp was drawn from your lips.

And it wasn’t long before that very foot and sorely exercised knee buckled under the shocking pressure, slamming both roughly into the dirt as you felt another breeze graze the touches of your back exposed by rips in the fabric. All from those quick tumbles against newly jagged ground with raised rock shards and disturbed mounds formed by the ongoing conflict.

You briefly glanced down to assess the damage, relying on your senses' contextual intertwinement and the dancing light of your gray saber to defend against the ongoing downpour of bolts. Showers that fell from the hilltop with such magnitude that you could’ve sworn the sky was crying smoky tears.

Speaking of bolts, it appeared one had cut you down pretty good as a severely bloodied laceration oozing black, bubbling soot stingingly throbbed the bottom half of your leg. Consuming your vision with its strongly contrasting, dark tinge even amidst your armor’s shadowy undertones.

So much for those Republic-tested shin guards, you internally grunted.

And, regrettably, with one leg out of commission, it didn’t take long for your wearied body and continuously fogging gaze to make another mistake.

Even if it was only for a split second.

While desperately side-crawling toward the landing pad, in an effort to impede an enemy group from its newly-angled, swift approach, you missed an arbitrary bolt that collided with the hilt of your saber. Snapping it out of your hand as its protective covering took the brunt of the blast, but still flung it a few meters out from your grip all the same.

Your head spun back toward the main invading Force, only to be met with an inky black blaster whose cold body was levied mere centimeters from your forehead.

Dark spots crept into your peripheral like a predator surveying its prey as your palms dug into the disturbed dirt below.

“Wow, look guys!” The titillated battle droid exclaimed. “I got a Jedi!”

Shades of flaming red exploded before your very eyes.

But not for the reason you thought.

No, whatever that was, it wasn’t blood.

It was much more…

Much too…

Fuzzy?

Scrapping at whatever strength you had left, you focused your shaky stare above. Only to be met with the strikingly pigmented fox of before, wrapped around the battle droid’s torso like a constricting tendril as it gnawed with growling rage at the mechanical thing’s armed skeletal limb.

“Ah! What is this?” The off-yellow machine bellowed. “Get it off me! Get it off me!”

He spun in unsteady circles, flinging his targeted arm as if fire consumed its nonexistent nerves, drilled feet stumbling over each other while the fox laid savagely into their assault.

Until the droid hoisted its other revolving hand, slamming it down once, and then twice, across the creature’s wet snout. A sickening crack, and its shiny, fur coat slung from the machine before landing as a mangled heap onto the ground.

You thrust a hand toward your saber, scratching at the Force to coax it to your fingers as it catapulted into your grasp.

A reflection of the blaster’s barrel stung your eye.

One squealing pop flung through the air.

And then another.

“Good riddance,” the droid mumbled while it drearily kicked the still warm, but entirely lifeless creature left at its feet.

You were too late.

You were always too late.

Qui-Gon’s paled skin. His glazed, breathless eyes.

And then you saw it.

You swore you saw it.

A flash of that horned, devil face harshly stomped across the fox’s barren throat.

And your blood ran cold.

So frigid, that an icy film must’ve shielded your eyes while they blurred in contest with an increasingly congested mind. The resonating cries of commanding clones, marching mechanical feet, and rushing metal clamoring against loose bolts all melded into a muddled echo of the past. Even Boil’s distended calls, which freely rang around inching droids as he laid down fire, melded into the rest of the world.

Instead, a high-pitched tone displaced their existence, slackening your jaw and dangerously slowing your breath while a weight unlike any other yanked down at your sternum.

And amidst all that drowning havoc, you barely noticed the large, gray shuttle with faint red accents descend before you.

Almost immediately, and with growing intensity, its engines were able to sweep away any nearby battle droids as they flung and tumbled across the grass like loose scraps. Even the Rollies found their maneuverability stifled as they transformed back into a legged form before being tossed away like loose credits via their curvature alone.

Yet, even though the vehicle landed between you and the incoming fire, its rear door descending as a fluttering ivory robe and flashes of white armor darted down its ramp, it was still not enough to rip you out from yourself.

It was only partially, that your awareness sparked, and for a moment oh so brief, as a flash of auburn tufts poked a hole in that stunned cataract.

“Silvey!”

A distant echo among muffled blaster fire, but the ringing tone did seem to partially subside.

“Silvey! Can you hear me?!”

You swallowed, vision clearing just enough to recognize a familiar pair of widened, bright blue eyes.

Though you had no idea how he got here.

“Obi-Wan?” You questioned hazily with scrunched brows.

“Let’s get you to the ship!” He declared firmly, eyes drifting toward your mangled leg as a hint of displeasure creased his eyes.

But he hesitated for only a second before quickly wrapping his fingers around your free arm to tug you that away.

And, truth be told, it was that moment, that single moment, the warm feeling of his grip as plasmic fumes assaulted your senses, that became the last instant of Lanos you truly remembered.

You recalled the gentle pressure of Kenobi’s fingers releasing your arm into the shuttle just before it lifted from the ground while he sprinted off, pearly armor catching the sun’s smoke-scattered glare as he joined the fight. And you could remember the stinging weight that dragged at your muscles as you stood for the first time after the hull abruptly docked at The Negotiator.

A feeling that haunted you with each step you traversed from the shuttle bay to your temporary quarters.

You could even recall the taste of the stale ship air that reigned menial against Lanos’s essence of fresh vegetation and untouched atmosphere. Though that particular memory was hard to forget, considering those same elements pervaded your quarters.

What you couldn’t remember, however, was what anyone had said to you. If anyone had said anything at all. You couldn’t remember when your injured leg was wrapped, or who did it. You couldn’t remember whether the battle was won. You couldn’t remember entering the lift to the residential section of the ship. And you couldn’t remember the familiar whooshing creak of your quarter’s automatic door.

Oh Maker, no.

You couldn’t recall whether that faulty sound tolled when the aperture opened.

You could only trust that the door had, in fact, shut behind you as you ambled into your quarters, deactivated lightsaber falling from your bruised fingers before rudely clacking across the carpeted floor. You could only hope that the walls, too, were thick enough to deafen the sound of your falling knees as they collided with the itchy carpet’s prickling texture.

And you could pray that the falling tears wetting your cheeks and soaking your tunic, and the hiccuping breaths stopping your heart, would somehow ease the agonizing burden that crushed your chest with the bodies of all you had lost.

—

“And the facility was secured?” Master Kenobi inquired once Commander Cody concluded his cursory report on the impromptu attack.

Both general and soldier ambled down the curved, tubular hallway of one of the ship’s upper decks, lined with identically placed doors and overhead lights that perfectly reflected the Republic’s preference for uniformed architecture. Still though, Obi-Wan’s wandering eyes would soak up their every detail, down to the personalized wear of certain entry panels or noticeable scuffs decorating the steel floor whenever he participated in such debriefs.

It allowed his mind to focus on the task at hand. No matter the aeonian tumult that bled into their essence or bordered his thoughts.

“Yes, General,” Cody assured evenly as his long-barreled, black phaser, still warm from battle, patiently hung from a confident grip; swaying with each step that fell in line with his superior’s steady stride.

“And we incurred far less casualties than anticipated,” he continued, with a hint of optimism so subtle that even Kenobi struggled to detect it. “My men report that the General is to thank for that.”

An unconscious hand hovered toward Obi-Wan’s chin, gently stroking his beard’s loose tufts while the Jedi Master continued to absorb his officer’s words like a Bluebell squish would sunlight.

Though his gaze still dallied across the ephemeral doors.

“Had they not stood their ground in the valley’s trench…” Cody liberated. “I doubt much of the platoon would be left standing.”

Kenobi’s chest rose and fell with a gradualness that seemed to suspend time itself. Still, his legs carried him onwards, as a shuttle set on autopilot would transport its passengers by endless star systems, and the beauties in between.

You certainly took a huge risk, he noted. Pushing yourself to the very brink to protect the lives of his own battalion.

But did you know just how close you came to the point of no return?

The Master Jedi considered that even Anakin would’ve deemed the act of entering and remaining in the trenches terribly reckless.

And that was saying something.

But you were Qui-Gon’s Padawan, after all. And Obi-Wan knew better than anyone that drilled into your being was the desire to avoid violence at all costs. To preserve the manifestations of the Force by protecting any and all beings who necessitated aid.

Though you were never prepared for a war that coerced Jedi to conform to a changed Galaxy.

And it coerced him to consider…

Should he say something?

“Sir.”

The General need not rely on Force-attuned senses to notice the Commander slowed his gate into a standstill from the corner of an observant eye. Leashing Kenobi to do the same as he angled to face the solider whose mollified shoulders stimulated satiny brown orbs to soften.

“Some of the boys and I would like to thank the General in person for what they did today,” he expressed somewhat awkwardly, hand jolting up to scratch the back of his head as his eyes dipped off to the side. “Any chance you could share a heads up when they may be up for it, Sir?”

An involuntary twitch tugged at the corner of the General’s tensed lips. Though his revelation after the fact choked the sensation before it had any chance of crawling up to ensnare his bright, cerulean orbs.

No. Not yet, the bearded man concluded.

He couldn’t share his worries.

Because Kenobi dreaded that doing so would risk metamorphosis.

It would be, conceivably, like asking you to transform into a different breed of Jedi. One who’d fail to touch the hearts of men with such infectious reverence and unity.

You were a being who would, no matter what, sacrifice each and every far-off particle of themselves if it meant preserving just one more life, or to cease the wands of conflict indefinitely.

The Way of Qui-Gon’s age, that felt so long ago.

Before its prime was sullied by war…

Suppressing his former Master’s Renaissance teachings in favor of this changed Galaxy, like so many Jedi of late, like Mace Windu, would fundamentally alter you.

And it was that very concept that sucked away the energy of his mind, like a siphon draining liquid gold down through his stiffened spine, and out through his toes.

“Of course, Commander,” Kenobi expelled fluidly. “I’m certain they would valu—“

A gust of pressurized mass flung by the duo with the brawn of a rushing wave, consuming Obi-Wan’s senses and depressing the hairs along his arms like a sudden shift in gravity as his once drained neck flicked toward the impression’s oozing source, located somewhere farther down the hallway.

But while the piqued Jedi Master’s piercing eyes initially saw nothing of concern, it was only a mere second later when the feeling quickly morphed into a troubling array as a pointed hole the size of a marble appeared to form in his ribcage, deliberately expanding into a bleak vacuum that nearly caught his breath.

Then came the pain.

An intense jab whose sharp instrument seemed to pierce the air with progressively afflicting shocks that were surely impossible for any Force-Sensative being to ignore.

At least, for him.

And while this sensation’s source appeared to stray from his inner being, Kenobi could still perceive its utter potency, shattering his thoughts with one, unavoidable clarity:

That, no matter the impenetrability of mental blocks or molecular hints of presence within the Force, the only other being in this sector at all capable of emitting this kind of energy, was you.

And that could only mean one thing.

Something was very very wrong.

Given that you’d nearly escaped with your life not even an hour prior, Kenobi could only fear the worst as he mentally recounted your previously noted injuries.

Unless…

That earlier hesitation…

“General!” Cody alertedly yet curiously called after his superior officer as the auburn-haired man’s once composed posture devolved into a notably rushed jog, his white shoulder and shin guards doing little in the ways of stifling the whipping surge of his ivory robe as it caught the ship’s manufactured atmosphere’s resistance. “Is everything alright?”

“I’m not certain,” he replied with a leveled tone, though never assuaging his gate or turning his chin away from the path ahead as he rushed by door upon equivalent door. “I will comm you if not.”

It was quite fortunate, Obi-Wan realized, that he’d already been returning to his own quarters when he sensed the shift in the Force as they were situated a mere few doors down from your own. Otherwise, given your mind’s weak presence in its endless flow, he may not have caught onto the displacement until long after the fact. Still, he couldn’t help but assign himself preliminary blame for whatever it was he began inwardly preparing to walk into.

He was too distracted to check in with you until now. Too preoccupied with leading reinforcements to turn the tide of that bloody sea of an ambush. And too absorbed in the logistics of determining just exactly how that Separatist attack force landed on Lanos without a lick of intelligence soaring his way. All while the General simultaneously ensured an on-track fleet rendezvous in the background.

But now, stood before your door amidst the heavy rise and fall of a stunted chest in which breath clutched its heels, the Jedi Master gravelly understood once again, fist hovering before its grayed coating in fleeting hesitation, that he had no choice but to rectify another mistake made in his task of certifying The Guardian’s safety.

His knuckles resonantly rapped the cold metal sheen separating you both.

“Silvey?”

But that empty, weighted crevice slithering within his deepest senses persisted, its stinging ambiance threatening to crack open his skin. Quite enough to convince the Jedi Master, as he reached a few fingers toward the door’s panel to levy a couple overriding taps, that your current well-being transcended any and all swirling discomforts rooted in invading your personal space.

Yet, even with such logic secured as firmly on his belt as his lightsaber, nothing could’ve truly prepared Obi-Wan Kenobi for the sight that patiently awaited the mechanical entryway’s opening swish, as his subsequent few steps into your thinly carpeted and modestly furnished quarters delivered an image not easily unseen.

Kneeled just a few meters before the stilled, auburn-haired man was your sternly bent-over figure, back hunched as strikingly as a shadow in a room simply lit by the vast array of stars that glimmered unbothered beyond the far wall’s viewport. Your wears were the same, with the various splotched, grimy stains and ripped, sagging ends of disturbed cloth still hugging your body like fearful younglings. Just as they had during the battle’s peak when Kenobi’s shuttle first landed.

Their drying crackles. Their stretching tears. They caught his gaze as fiercely as a spark of fire with each subtle quiver of your spine, an action which took his mind a moment to register as the trembling quake bedeviling enervated lungs.

From your blood-soiled calf bandage, ruggedly stuck, tussled hair, and sweat-adhered, dirt-crusted arms, Obi-Wan could only assume that you’d remained like this since your arrival. Submitting to your dark surroundings while lacking the inspiration to flip on a light.

And, most eerily, in a muteness that heightened the slightest creaks and far-off humming engines of a periodically groaning ship.

A recognition that deepened the already cavernous void threatening to swallow whole every vein branching from Kenobi’s chest into the muscle of each motionless shoulder.

This was nothing like the incident of days prior, which meant that the General was uncertain of what would help. How to fix this. Or even, what was wrong.

But he veritably knew that dropping a pin in the uncanny silence engulfing you both like a gaseous cloud would shatter his eardrums just as savagely as he assumed it would spiral whatever affliction you were enduring into a perilous state.

And that meant that, for the life of him. The Master Jedi had no idea how to proceed.

He could not breathe for apprehension that it would burst like a spark within an invisible hypermatter leak. Let alone speak a few words, nor your name, unless he knew that, without harm, he could.

So, Master Kenobi did the only thing he dreamed acceptable.

After idling by the entryway in perpetual uncertainty, the cautious Jedi adopted a lissome tread, leading his troubled brows and downturned cerulean eyes to finally seize a glimpse of your collapsed head as he rounded your form.

Your blotched countenance of stained tears and drained listlessness. Loose strands of hair soaked from sweat or anguish he did not know. Still, even your radiantly silver eyes seemed to gray in their moribund stare straight ahead, as if to watch a tiresome scene a thousand parsecs away run its course.

And it was that utter and complete stillness, a feeling invoking time to recede into long-forgotten history, that remained for a tense, immeasurable while.

Unsteady breaths continued to shudder your torso while eyes strung wide enough to perceive the whole Galaxy struggled to maintain their shape following the long sered, torrential flood. The cogs of overflowing thoughts crowding their rusting gears before the speechless man’s very eyes.

It felt near an eternity into the future or past had elapsed for Obi-Wan since he met your distant orbs. Yet their departed state, it seemed, never reflected your true awareness.

You were not trapped within your mind again.

“I spent my entire life on that barren planet,” you suddenly relayed hoarsely.

Or, maybe, in some ways, you were, Kenobi amended, as the sound of your strained voice heightened the General’s alertness all the way up to his hassled brows.

“And a decade of it in complete isolation.”

Laggardly, your jaded orbs lifted toward his own, neck barely shifting while you held his pursed lips and tensed jaw in a vice grip by the anticipation of your slowly spilling words alone.

“And yet—“

A single tear seeped through the dam, etching another stain into your storied cheeks as your chest quickened its heaves.

It was more than enough to have impelled Kenobi toward you. With a hand outstretched and a pulsing drive to somehow bring you any sliver of relief.

But Obi-Wan refrained from all that.

He knew he needed to listen. To understand first. So to learn how best to fix this.

He just wanted to fix this.

“—I’ve never felt… quite… so alone.”

But with those six words, the Master Jedi’s temperance seemed to wash away with the second droplet that traced a serene path down to your chin, proving another chink in the levee.

Promptly, but still with great care, Obi-Wan neared your body, both sets of eyes never severing while he lowered to his knees. Mirroring your form in complete and utter stillness as he encouraged you to continue with a reinforced, steadfast expression.

A tremulous exhale escaped your lungs, silver gaze breaking the connection before sinking to the wayside.

“Not as I do now,” you breathed. “Not when Qui-Gon is gone.”

Those two syllables, Kenobi registered. Two knocks that brought that dam to ruins.

“He’s gone!” You croakily sobbed, a glare that could only reflect betrayal by the Galaxy itself rushing to perceive Kenobi’s affected countenance with an intensity that matched the gushing rain.

You raised a fist, tightening it in the air through a paled potency so sheer that Obi-Wan worried with stitched brows about the sharp damage your fingertips could be afflicting upon the contorted palm. All while silver eyes squeezed shut as if disgusted by the waves of pure agony that surmounted your figure.

“He’s gone for good,” you gnawed breathily. “And nothing will ever bring him back.”

While heaving gasps brimmed the once noiseless, dulled gray walls, amplifying the hollowed suffering emanating through the Force, Kenobi felt his tensed spine and rigid limbs ease with the surge of conviction that steadily overcame him.

Doubtlessness that, like a good Jedi, he felt the need to ease your misery.

More than that. Your pain happened to affect him in such a way, that it felt distressing to do anything but lift his wrist to reach out a bracing palm.

For someone he appreciated as an admirable individual.

And for a being he was beginning to consider a good friend.

Gently, his palm graced the side of yours, signaling him to carefully wrap warm fingers around your strikingly frigid, raised fist. A gesture which relaxed open your tear-brimmed orbs while Obi-Wan cautiously lowered your languishingly trembling clutch. So gradually, that as both your and Obi-Wan’s arms reached each respective knee, the clasped hand was spurred to wholly unfurl, giving Kenobi room to relax his thumb against your flushed palm while he eyed you meaningfully.

“You are not alone,” Obi-Wan firmly assured, his own voice eliciting a momentary shock as he heard its baritone timbre crush the presence of such prolonged and confounding silence.

“He’s gone,” you repeated mindlessly with an empty gaze barely supporting your head.

Yet Obi-Wan’s persistence was as boundlessly unyielding as the grip he maintained on you.

“But, you’re not alone.”

“Obi-Wan,” you wept, nostrils flaring as you shook your head with thinned eyes; swallowing harshly. “Pleas—“

Rapidly, with any fret of heedfulness tossed out the airlock, the Master Jedi brought his unchained hand toward your tottering jaw. Resting a loose knuckle under your chin to lift your searching gaze toward his.

You needed this, he excused. You needed to hear this.

And as your damp, sparkling eyes absently met his, he knew:

Distance be damned.

“You are The Guardian. Anakin is forever tied to you. And you will always, always have the Order. Thousands of Jedi ready to stand by your side because of who you are,” he declared with unshakable conviction.

Until his orbs softened below shattered lips.

“Silvey,” he whispered pregnantly. “Drink in my words.” His fingers tightened around your own. “You are not alone.”

And for a moment, Kenobi could note a subtle lift in your features. A slight lightening of your irises that indicated at least some partial unshackling of an invisible burden. A development that began to stitch closed the gaping crevice nestled within his sternum as it was reflected through the Force, stabilizing against your releasing shoulders and loosening throat.

Though your mind appeared to travel elsewhere.

Still, they were all gradual indications of your calming thoughts. Hints that whatever he was doing was mending something. And signs that first appeared when he touched your hand.

Another theory that added substance to the sealing emptiness Kenobi first experienced through the hall in what felt like eons ago.

So, he leaned into it, gracing his once stilled thumb across your palm’s supple skin as he, bit by bit, traced a messy oval to soothe your thoughts.

And it didn’t take long for your continually calming presence to uncontrollably elicit the soft smile that gradually adorned his lips.

But, as soon as his gentle finger uncovered the aplomb to supply a deeper, more sustained motion of solidarity, it seemed, instantaneously, that this very transference snapped you out of whatever distance your mind had traveled with an unforeseen start.

Your suddenly surprised gape jumped out at Kenobi while a once relaxed hand instantly recoiled out of his own. Chiseling an equally confused expression across Obi-Wan’s face as his brows furrowed at you uneasily.

Still, that did little in forestalling your hurried launch to stand, all done in an effort to put a few strides between you and the bearded Jedi before crossing deeper into the dark shadows enveloping your quarters, a back of tattered robes separating you from Obi-Wan’s probing stare.

The older Jedi felt that hallowed void dilate within himself once more as he observed your sheltering arms fold into themselves, a familiar, throbbing pain emanating into the surrounding Force while he too promptly rose to his feet.

Especially as there was no denying that it was a feeling, Obi-Wan gathered, he’d somehow caused.

A myriad of thoughts swirled his mind as your quarters adopted that familiar aura of soundless reticence. One that rivaled the emptiness of its dimmed lightning that somehow felt far more barren with the presence of two beings blending into its grayed walls.

And the silence was deafening. Thunderous enough to fester a chest-displacing emotion Kenobi sometimes experienced, but knew no Jedi should long entertain.

Guilt.

“Silvey?” He questioned with indecisively parted lips, phonating barely above a whisper.

But you never spoke.

Instead, the Jedi Master received his answer from the tautening cross of your arms and intensifying dip of your head.

The clatter of heavy footsteps and low conversation echoed from the hall, cutting the still air like an endless barrage of saber swipes. Their passing din muffled by your quarter’s steel separation as Obi-Wan partially sensed the handful of clones retreat down the passageway’s other end until their overlapping noise whispered into a distant memory.

And it was following that minor rattle, the long, interspaced stretches of pure stillness, and a timeless affair of observing your statued figure for any hint of an imparting thought, that the General reluctantly accepted the inevitable as pivoted on his heel toward the long gone entourage.

Although he now ambled toward the metal door, he only moved with stalling muscles, still in anticipation that he’d sense some shift, some indication of lightening impressions through the Force. At least, any idea that maybe, maybe you’d say something to him.

But once Obi-Wan’s fingers reached for the green-rimmed panel, releasing open the aperture with a whoosh, he began to come to grips with the fact that his presence would facilitate no locution, and, instead, only make things worse.

Stepping beyond the threshold, Kenobi’s eyes drifted to the side, as if to glance at your enigmatic figure staring out the viewport from far behind.

Though, despite the effort, he never dared to fully turn. Instead, Obi-Wan simply allowed his reluctant features to subdue against the throbbing remorse that struck through his mind like an unruly blaster spear as he murmured through uncertain lips one last time.

“I’m… I’m sorry.”

A soft exhale, and the door hissed closed.

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[brucewaynehater101]

man, my *pressing ask only to go wait holy shit!!* is getting out of hand

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Ranger and DigiDestinedhood hammers home to the team that as good as saving people is, secret identities are a paaain, but a nessecery pain

But they would never trade it for the world

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Tim arguably has it easier than everyone else when it comes to identity shenanigans. He has no powers, and thus no expectation to become a hero himself.

Inheriting Drake Industries and maintaining it will be a chore. However, if he plays his cards right, he can get digimon on his playrole to act in his stead when he can get away with remote work

The company still has motives to profit, but when it comes to it's non-profit organization and welfare departments? Policies to keep them at top quality are aggresively enforced.

It will also heavily invest in technology, particulary regarding the internet in ways that benefit his team's mission and the digital world

A good percentage of remote workers aren't even physical, but nobody except seven needs to know that

Plus Drake Industries will grow like never before. He can spout loads of bullshit to the press as to how but his team knows the truth

The Digital World and his Digital employees

The Batfamily are the main source of his worries, but he's got things under control

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

What Tim doesn't have to worry about is passing for (wholly) human. Becoming a Power Ranger of the Digivision negated his 100% human percentage, but minus some scares and precautions here and there, nobody will realize he's an unordinary human boy

He can provide support and even ways to help them hide their more extraordinary traits, employ Digimon support, but there's only so much he can do

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Thorn can't help being frightened whenever Luthor is their foe, when Superman is front of him congragulating on a job well done

When Superman questions his frozen still state, he just says that he's a huge fan and can never believe it when he sees the super

"But I understand that I should see the man under the cape, not just the symbol, and I'll do my best to do so."

And he thought just seeing them on the screen or in the distance was bad

It's a frightening, but easy to take of the kryptonite when in Ranger form, and his friends and people are in danger, and embrace his powers to save the day, clumsy as he is at it

It's going to be a long time coming when he stops wearing kryptonite under his clothes, in his pockets outside of training, no matter how much better his body feels without it, and let himself be witness to so much agony in his civillian life

When Superman asks Data Ranger is also a Kryptonian?

When Superman stares down Thorn with both of them knowing full well they know that the other knows that they know?

"You're my clone"

Thorn can taste his death through the very kryptonite he's indulged a life's comfort in. Compared to what's more likely?

He'd much prefer that

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

Speedster metabolism is a straight up liability when you're trying to keep yourself secret

Bart wasn't pretending he didn't exist persay, just one of the more instrumental parts of himself

The Flash family was sniffing around since news about the Vaccine Ranger and the speed force first popped up. Please stay away thank you. And thank you Batman paranoia!

Sucked how the most crash parts of his life circled around to being mode--- oh hey his favorite store just opened!

Bart had to be very, very careful not to speed. Which was utterly mode in his books but it's crash in the long run

Tl;Dr?---he liked this time and world's slang---Tim is having him and Thorn live at his place since they're homeless otherwise, and the press sucks! But living with Tim comes with a rad allowance he can spend on all the food and snacks he wants

Tim was working on getting revolutionary food preservation tech and other tech and GMOs made so Bart would never want for anything that satiated his hunger and taste buds again

but for now he'd have to settle for shopping

"How many parties are you buying for?" the cashier asked

"I've made it a career," he jested

And if he used the speedforce to give him a tip of bills adding up to hundred with a note of "keep the change :D --signed party boy"?

Sue him, Gotham was mode!---No offense Tim---people needed all the help they could get here

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Cassie arguably has it harder than the rest of her team from a certain view

What's stopping Zues or anybody else affiliated with him in anyway from flying down from the heavens and declaring her own divinity for everyone to hear?

What's keeping her from being forced into a spotlight or duties at the wave of a hand?

Pouring through texts for anything---anything!---that could conceal demigodhood, she mentally noted down anything that boosted luck as well. Knowing anything, she'll need it

She looked up to see that the digimon helping her were barely making more progress than her

So much for the ✨Age of Information!✨ she thought

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Tl;Dr --- The Digital Division don't want their civillian identities compromised because it could compromise their allies

And they aren't to inclined to willingly share their identities to anybody outside of the Digital Division

If they manage to not compromise their allies, the prospect of being forced into another superheroism identity and thus be forced to juggle three secrety identities is something they don't want

Also rip Thorn with his unreliable narration. Lies and mental illness are a bitch!

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Hey maybe the team expands the Digital Division to have its own social worker department of sorts aimed at helping the community

Maybe it's the start of the digital world and real world coming together as one, or maybe a different approach is taken

One must wonder the public and real world's reaction to the existence of the digital world

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Also Bart and Terriermon would probably use a bunch of Digital World slang in the future addition to real world future slang, where as the present Digital World uses their own terms, another way of displaying their displacement in time

Also Tim would probably have Bart and Thorn stay at the Drake Manor since they're a bit homeless and maybe he arranges Helena and his parents to meet if they haven't already so Cassie can have an excuse to come and stay over whenever

Thorn and Bart staying at Tim's place is great! I like the addition here of the Digital Division kind of treating other heroes as pests. They are basically trying to shoo away anyone who's trying to figure out their identity.

I bet Batman is going nuts. He can't really track/follow them into and out of the digital world. Maybe he tries to get Oracle to help? Wonder how that would go.

I'm also vibing with the digital employees and Tim continuing to be the CEO for D.I.

Overall, the concept is cool as hell!