#Female Jedi Knight/Hero of Tython

[greyias]

How are the Highwind's spending life day this year?

Well, now that you mention it... trying to finish their last minute shopping! I think it went a little something like this...

(In honor of my stupidest, annual Life Day tradition in-game. (1) (2) (3) featuring @grumpyhedgehog​‘s lovely Lyra Dorn)

There was a special place in the Void reserved for the kind of people who would force an innocent party into unpaid manual labor—actually, wasn’t there laws against that in the Republic? Draike Highwind briefly considered ratting out his stupid baby sister to the proper authorities for forcing him to play pack nerf for this stupid Life Day shopping trip, even if that was a karffing narc move. Deciding his honor was worth more than petty revenge, he squashed down the urge. For now.

He reluctantly trudged behind said baby sister, struggling to balance the weight of enough gifts to stock a small moon. He wasn’t sure if there was a gift here for every single person on Odessen, even the subcontractors that made brief fuel stops in the hangar bay, but from the way his shoulders ached from the strain, he wouldn’t count it out entirely.

Ahead of him, Grey almost seemed to bounce on her toes, a garish sight decked out in her ridiculous Life Day sweater. It was a red and green monstrosity, depicting what he thought might have been Wampas gleefully dancing across her chest. Possibly rampaging. It was hard to tell underneath the twinkling lights. He hadn’t realized Life Day sweaters now came electrified, but this one was lit up enough to guide a Star Destroyer in for a landing. If she got any more festive, she would probably combust into a shower of tinsel and holiday cheer.

It was almost a tempting enough thought for him to endure this torment for a few minutes longer. Almost.

She unfortunately fit right in with the rest of the Promenade here on Nar Shaddaa. While the garish statue of Karagga had been left alone in all of his gaudy, gilded glory, the rest of Lucent Square had been filled with gaudy decorations and festive revelers. Garlands draped haphazardly across vendor stalls, threatening to strangle unsuspecting shoppers, while some enterprising Hutt had decided to erect a towering holographic tree in the plaza. Its intangible branches featured tacky holographic ornaments of the Hutt crime lords who controlled this festive hellscape grinning at the shoppers spending all of their hard earned credits.

Humans, Rodians, and all sorts of other non-Wookiee species wandered about in Life Day robes, something Draike made a mental note to ask Bowdaar the level offensiveness and Wookiee cultural appropriation was happening here. At least, he was until he saw a group of actual Wookiee carolers nearby, the distant cries of them roaring their traditional Life Day songs making him grit his teeth.

He was a respectful captain, and would not compare the sound of his old crewmate’s beloved and deeply spiritual beliefs to grinding gears of a malfunctioning hyperdrive. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t secretly wishing that maybe the job on Nar Kreeta hadn’t actually made him go deaf.

However, that did not excuse the repurposed protocol droids wandering around the place, accosting everyone with good cheer. He thought he’d overheard someone referring to them as gift droids, but if they’d been giving out gifts willy-nilly, he hadn’t seen it. Just heard their tinny voices chirping holiday greetings to passersby as they waddled about, the lights on their chassis blinking in seizure-inducing patterns. One particularly enthusiastic model nearly clothes-lined a Rodian while flailing its arms as it attempted to distribute what may have been some sort of knock-off Life Day candy.

Perhaps that should have been reported to the health inspector, but again, that was another narc move.

“Remind me next year,” Draike muttered under his breath as the circulation to his fingers seemed to be cut off from the weight of presents, “to skip town for the holidays.”

No one seemed to pay attention to, or care, about his suffering.

He attempted to shift the mountain of packages, wincing as the corner of one of the larger boxes dug into his ribs, while ahead of him Grey consulted a datapad that contained an unnecessarily detailed shopping itinerary. If she vibrated with any more holiday cheer, she might phase out of reality soon. Which would at least spare his retinas from the dancing lights on her sweater. Her husband walked alongside her, not bothering to restrain his bride’s excess enthusiasm. Theron’s concession to the holiday spirit was limited to a thin, dark sweater that was barely visible beneath his trademark red jacket. The man’s stubborn refusal to be fully pulled into the Life Day spectacle was almost admirable. Although the tiny antlers carefully perched around his fauxhawk somewhat ruined that air of grumpy indifference.

Their “merry” band of shoppers was rounded out by none other than Lyra Dorn, his Jedi often co-conspirator who for some reason wasn’t trying to rescue Draike from any of this indignity. She was managing to look tastefully festive in a deep red coat with more understated golden embroidery, and a long green scarf with snowflakes on it, exuding the sense of “holiday spirit” without looking like without looking like she'd been attacked by a pack of festive Wampas with a penchant for glitter.

A group of revelers stumbled out of the Slippery Slopes Cantina, cheeks red with festive cheer and their Life Day robes stained with what he hoped was spilled ale, and not some more questionable bodily fluid. Although that would certainly liven up this overly saccharine excursion, come to think of it. And certainly scandalize the walking embodiment of Life Day cheer who still ambled on ahead of him.

He tried to not envy the revelers their drunken stupor too much as Grey waved Theron and Lyra toward yet another vendor stall. Her ridiculous sweater seemed to almost flash in sync with her movements, the lights on the dancing wampas twinkling like a secret attempt to induce a navigational error in a passing starship. Devilishly clever if true.

Draike heaved a sigh, the dramatic kind that carred the weight of a being long-suffering and ignored by his companions, and betrayed by life itself. He tried to rebalance the gift horde again, only for the pointy box to jab into his ribs anew, as if it had a grudge against him specifically.

“How many more?” he called out.

“Hmm?” Grey didn’t even look back over her shoulder.

“How many more stops do you want to torture us with? At this rate I’m going to need a kolto tank for my spine.”

Grey finally turned to look at him, her face alight not just from the sweater but also just an unnatural level of joy and cheerfulness. He didn’t trust it one bit.

“Just three more shops!” She bounced on her toes again as she checked her datapad. “I’ve got it mapped out here. We'll hit Gree's Galactic Gifts for something special for Ben, get him into the holiday spirit."

Their youngest brother, Ben, the lucky bastard, had somehow gotten out of this charade by claiming he needed to do some special intel op spying on the Hidden Chain with Rass Ordo. Draike wasn’t sure if he actually bought the excuse what with the way Ben and his Mandalorian buddy kept sneaking glances at each other, but was actively regretting that he’d not thought to look busy with things of galactic importance to be able to get out of this endeavor.

"I think you’re going to need more than a gift to accomplish that. Probably a Life Day miracle,” Draike grumbled. “I’m pretty sure Ben was born with those grumpy pants on.”

She seemed to either not hear him, or just ignore him. "And then we'll finish up at Devaronian Delights for some of those candied song-cherries for the girls. They’ll like that right?"

Well, Soli and Roz probably wouldn’t say no to it, but seeing as his kids were teenagers, they’d probably appreciate a credit chit just as much. But if correcting her on that extended his agony, he’d just let her be the lame aunt.

Instead, he staggered dramatically and let out a loud groan. "You know, if you keep buying at this rate, we're going to need the Gravestone to haul it all back to base."

“The Gravestone was destroyed over a year ago.” Grey blinked, confused.

“It was the lucky one.”

Grey just rolled her eyes, completely unfazed by her brother's theatrics. "Oh, stop being so dramatic. We're making great time!"

"Great time?" Draike scoffed. "We've been at this for hours. I'm pretty sure my arms are about to fall off."

“Your arms seem fine to me.” Theron gave Draike a once over, eyebrow arching up dubiously but did reach out to steady a precariously balanced box that was about to take a tumble.

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” Draike shot back. “I don’t see you offering to hold any of this crap.”

“Yes, well, we had to keep your hands busy somehow, didn’t we?” Theron shot back. “After all, idle hands are the devil’s workshop. And you were so bored.”

“I’ll show you idle hands.” Draike could have “accidentally” dropped one (or more) box onto his brother-in-law’s foot, but the Jenga-like arrangement in his arms would probably all come tumbling down if he did that. So he resisted.

Lyra cleared her throat, as if she’d read the momentary gleam in his eye. “You know, we could try and reorganize the route? See if we can cut out a little wandering time.”

“Oh, no worries about that,” Grey held out the datapad, showing off a meticulously color-coded map of the Promenade, with a clear line marking an optimized path to take them from the must-have gift locations to the more optional but fun items. “Theron made sure to chart an optimal path that would hit all the stores with the least amount of backtracking.”

“Who knew he was such a stellar navigator,” Draike muttered darkly.

Theron shot him an equally sour look, deftly leaning back as Grey made a swooping hand gesture as she tried to explain the route in more detail, as if that would somehow not make Draike’s will to live slowly ebb away.

“I’m dying,” he whined. “Slowly wasting away from dehydration. My mouth a desert, my throat a barren wasteland. Just a poor abused pack nerf, far from home.”

Theron rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder it was a wonder his ocular implants didn't short-circuit from the strain. “You’re fine. You had a drink less than an hour ago.”

Lyra, probably moved by the thought of a poor, abused nerf, seemed to take pity on him. “You know, a break doesn’t sound like the worst idea. I think I spied a Biscuit Baron just around the corner. Why don’t Theron and I go grab drinks for everyone?”

“Ooh, hot cocoa!” Grey’s eyes lit up at the prospect. Or maybe that was just the reflection of the lights on her damn sweater.

“I’m going to need something stronger than cocoa to get through the rest of this,” Theron grumbled. Although whether he was agreeing to make his wife happy, or just to shut Draike up was up for debate.

“They don't serve whiskey at Biscuit Baron,” Draike said wistfully, “trust me, I’ve checked.”

“Caf then,” he amended, “strong enough to wake the dead.”

The two of them stepped away, weaving through the crowd towards the promised of caffeinated and chocolate salvation. Immediately, like an excited Kath hound pup let loose in a field of unsuspecting nerfs, Grey’s attention was captured by a nearby shop window. The display had some sort of garish representation of Coruscant’s Senate building rendered entirely in blinking Life Day lights.

“Look at this!” Deprived of her willing victim in matrimony, she tried to wave him over to coo at the display with her. “It’s adorable! Maybe we should get one for the War Room back on base.”

Draike just blinked at her. “You want to add ‘festive cheer’ to our war planning? What next, tying ribbons and bows on thermal detonators?”

She either didn’t hear him, or chose to ignore him, instead peering closer at the gaudy eyesore, her nose almost pressing against the shop window. “I think it would really brighten the place up.”

“I mean, explosions generally do have that. As a side effect.”

As she seemed oblivious to the way he was staggering under the mountain of packages she’d saddled with him, Draike gave serious thought to just dropping the whole lot right there on the fancy little walkway. It would serve them right. Maybe if he made enough of a scene, they’d finally call it quits and wrap up this hellish excursion.

As if summoned by his frustration alone, one of those weird repurposed protocol gift droids waddled into view. Its red chassis was adorned with an ungodly amount of twinkling lights, and its optical sensors fixed on Draike with an intensity that suggested it had scanned him, analyzed his festive deficiencies, and declared him Patient Zero in a Life Day cheer pandemic.

“Uh uh, don’t you dare—”

“Greetings gentle being, and happy Life Day!” The droid’s voice modulator seemed like it was cranked to eleven on the perkiness scale. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem o be lacking in holiday cheer! Perhaps I can assist you in finding the true meaning of this joyous season?”

Draike’s eyes narrowed, as if he’d just been threatened with violence. “True meaning, huh? Like spending hard earned credits on useless junk? Developing a drinking problem to cope with family gatherings?”

“Stars, no!” The droid’s photoreceptors blinked in what might have been confusion. Or horror. “The true meaning of Life Day is about spreading joy and goodwill to all beings arose the galaxy!”

Hell, this thing was worse than his sister. “Yeah, nothing says ‘goodwill to all’ like being accosted by a walking holiday decoration.”

The droid’s chassis prevented it from tilting its head, but it seemed to sway as if it wanted to attempt the maneuver anyway. “I have not accosted anyone.”

“Do you come pre-programmed with the ability to ignore sarcasm, or is that an upgrade?”

The droid, unfazed by his biting tone, forged on. Probably an upgrade. “Perhaps a festive Life Day carol would lift your spirits? I am programmed with over a thousand holiday melodies from across the galaxy!”

“I’d rather be slowly digested in a sarlacc pit.”

“I’m sorry, I’m unfamiliar with that song. Since you do not have a preference, I will select a carol at random.”

“No, wait—”

Weighed down by a thousand gifts, and perhaps also his own crushing despair, Draike was unable to stop the droid from launching into an ear-splitting rendition of the traditional Wookiee song, “A Day to Celebrate”, in what sounded like Huttese. The discordant warbling was painful enough he almost dropped the mountain of gifts in a reflexive attempt to shield his ears from the auditory assault. He glanced desperately at his sister, hoping she might rescue him from this menace, but she remained blissfully oblivious to his plight.

The droid finished its “song” (and he used that term loosely) with a flourish. “Wonderful! I can see the Life Day spirit levels in you rising already!”

Draike’s eye twitched. “That wasn’t my spirit levels rising, that was my will to live actively trying to crawl out of my body and escape.”

The droid once again tried to tilt its head, but failing that ability, just sort of wobbled again, the lights around its chassis flashing in manner that could only be described as offensively jubilant. “Ah, we must then dig deeper into the core of your holiday malaise. Tell me, gentle being, have you considered extending goodwill to others this season?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” He gritted his teeth as the giant gift pile swayed dangerously.

“A small donation could go a long way in helping those less fortunate.”

His arms burned from the weight of Grey’s endless shopping spree. Less fortunate? If anyone was less fortunate, it was him. “A donation? You want me to give credits to some random droid shaking me down in the street? What, did your ethical subroutines get crossed with a Hutt’s business model?”

The droid’s optical sensors flashed, its holiday cheer protocols struggling to process the insinuation. “I assure you, sir, this is a legitimate charity drive for the underprivileged children of Nar Shaddaa. Every credit goes directly to—”

“Listen, Jingle Bot, I’ve got my hands full of ‘Life Day cheer’ already. Literally. If I had any more my spine would probably snap from the weight.” Draike’s patience was wearing thinner than a worn-out strand of tinsel. “So unless your ‘charity drive’ comes with an extra set of arms or a repulsorlift sled, I suggest you take your goodwill pitch and shove it up your exhaust port!”

The droid didn’t budge, and if anything, Draike’s thinly veiled hostility seemed to encourage it almost. The festive lights on its chassis twinkled brighter as if trying to blind him into submission. “Oh, the gift of giving isn’t a burden. Perhaps if I explained the many benefits of charity during this festive season—”

Draike attempted to sidestep the obnoxious droid, the precarious tower of packages swaying dangerously, forcing him to freeze mid-step to steady them. The droid, apparently programmed with the tenacity of a Corellian sand panther, mirrored his movements, blocking his escape.

“Oh, for the love of—Grey!” Desperate, Draike tried to appeal to his sister’s heroic nature to come and save him. “A little help here!”

She turned her head slightly, barely sparing him a proper glance. “Oh, you’re fine. You’ve dealt with worse.”

A swear escaped him. “Worse? Worse than being harassed by a sentient disco ball?”

“I heard that!” The droid chirped, its tone somehow simultaneously cheerful and deeply offended. “Spreading joy may be a thankless task, but nonetheless, I persist!”

Oh, it persisted all right. Right back into Draike’s path as he tried once again to maneuver around the damn thing. A nearby Ithorian couple paused in their stroll, watching the scene with a mix of amusement and pity. One of them muttered something in their melodic language that he was pretty sure translated to “holiday meltdown”.

“Listen here, you overdecorated hyperdrive malfunction,” Draike hissed at his most hated nemesis, “if you don’t back off, I’m going to find the nearest scrap dealer and sell you for spare parts. Maybe in your next life you’ll be something useful, like a garbage compactor!”

For one blessed, glorious moment, the droid froze. Its photoreceptors dimming as if Draike’s bah humbug attitude had finally short-circuited the mechanical monstrosity. He felt a flicker of triumph.

Before the droid’s photoreceptors flickered. Once. Twice—before glowing an ominous, deep red.

The burgeoning smirk on Draike’s lips faltered. “Well, that can’t be good.”

When the droid spoke again, this time its tone was pitched deeper, slower and was laced with a menace that its cheery vocublator shouldn’t have been able to make. “Life Day spirit deficiency detected. Initiating aggressive holiday cheer protocols.“

“Aggressive what?”

He wasn’t sure if he should laugher be worried. Although from the way the droid’s festive lights flashed in a rapid, almost aggressive pattern… maybe the latter. “Now, now, I’m plenty cheerful. Look at this happy face of mine, see?”

Draike’s lips stretched into a wide, unconvincing grin, but from the way several passersby looked at him askance and herded each other away, perhaps it was more of a grimace.

The droid's chest compartment slid open, revealing a turret-like device loaded with fist-sized snowballs. Draike blinked, dumbfounded. Well, that was new.

Was that about to—?

Options flew by at light speed: Risk getting pelted with snowballs or dive for cover? Wait, what cover? The closest thing nearby that qualified was his oblivious sister. Update, new question. Drop the presents or use Grey as a shield? The answer was obvious.

Both.

Just as the first snowball launched with a soft, distinctive fwump sound, he moved. The mountain of packages tumbling in every direction, scattering with a less-than-festive crash. One particularly sickening crunch pierced the din as a delicate glass ornament met its untimely demise underneath Draike’s foot. He didn’t let that slow him down.

“What the—that was for Master Gnost-Dural!”

Before Grey could protest any further, Draike lunged for cover behind her, his hands clamping onto her shoulders and maneuvering her in front of him as a human shield, just in time for the snowball to splatter her with a wet thwack.

Phew, that was a close one. It had almost hit him!

A startled gasp escaped Grey as the snowball collided with her face, sending a spray of icy powder. But Draike was too busy surveying the damage to pay much attention to that or the fact that the droid was already reloading and launching another volley. He watched in detached, morbid fascination as an extra Life Day sweater, purchased on an impulse during hour three of this never ending shopping nightmare, unfurled like a discarded banner, its vibrant colors lost in the garish over decorated marketplace. Not much of a loss, really. The galaxy had enough crimes against fashion without adding another atrocity to the list.

A bottle of what was unmistakably expensive Corellian brandy rolled dangerously close to the edge of the walkway. Draike’s eyes widened as he looked between the bottle and the rapid-fire volley of snowballs hurtling towards the two siblings (or rather, towards Draike and his convenient human shield).

Saving the brandy could almost make this whole hellish excursion worthwhile. But there was no way he’d reach it without being pummeled. Perhaps he could drag Grey that direction and save it? The thought had merit.

As if sensing his distraction, the droid’s snowball barrage intensified.

“Draike!” Grey’s finely honed Jedi reflexes attempted to dodge the incoming snowballs (and maybe save some of her presents), but any attempt at tapping into that Force-given grace was hampered by her brother’s iron grip on her shoulders. “What in the Force are you—”

The question finished in an undignified squawk as another volley of snowballs pelted her.

“Stop it!” She sputtered, voice raising into a whining pitch that was very reminiscent to the one she used to use when they were kids and he was supposedly ‘picking on her’. “Let go of me!”

“Sorry, this is for the good of the galaxy!” He ducked lower behind her shoulder as another snowball whizzed past his ear. The cackle that escaped him was perhaps a little undignified, and more than a little manic. “You’re saving me from death by holiday cheer, just like a good little Jedi should.”

“It’s not funny, stop laughing!” Her drenched bangs were now plastered to her forehead, her ridiculous Life Day sweater now soaked through and clinging to her frame. The dancing wampas flickered pathetically, their cheery electronics no match for the droid’s relentless assault.

“Sure it is!”

Grey’s expression hardened, jaw setting in a way that suggested she was struggling to maintain her oh-so-perfect Jedi composure. “You’re being very immature, you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Draike didn’t sound sorry at all, “I didn’t realize there was a mature way to be assaulted by a homicidal holiday droid!”

Whatever she was going to say next was cut off as another volley of snowballs pelted Grey, making her sputter indignantly instead. That Jedi serenity was rapidly evaporating, replaced by the all-too-familiar look of a little sister pushed to her limits.

She furiously wiped the snow from her face, trying to twist around to face him, but his grip on her shoulders remained firm and she could only peer furiously and ineffectively over her shoulder. “I know where you sleep!”

That drew a full on snort from him, as if he’d be caught unawares by the least subtle person in the galaxy. “Oh nooo, the fearsome Jedi knows my sleeping arrangements! I’m shaking, I’m shaking!”

Grey’s eyes narrowed dangerously, a look that might have been intimidating, if she didn’t resemble a drowned womp rat. “You’re going to regret this, Draike Highwind.”

“Probably,” he agreed, and then pivoted them both so she valiantly saved him from another bombardment of snowballs. “But not as much as you’re going to regret wearing that sweater.”

“It’s a fun sweater!” Grey shrieked, composure finally shattering as she threw up her hands. The air shimmered in front of her, snowballs splattering harmlessly against some invisible shield. Oh, some sort of Force nonsense. Of course.

“Oh, yeah! Nothing says ‘fun’ like a pack of electrocuted wampas doing the Coruscant Jig across your chest.” Draike peered over her shoulder, eyeing the droid warily. Despite this new obstacle, it seemed content to keep up its relentless assault. “I’m surprised the Jedi Council hasn’t made it standard issue.”

She fixed him with a glare as hot as Tatooine’s twin suns, nose wrinkling in annoyance. But between the wet hair plastered across her forehead made the look more pitiful than threatening. “You realize you’re replacing everything that got ruined.”

He made a noncommittal noise.

“Everything.”Her tone was eerily reminiscent of the times she would tattle on him to their mother. Just about as effective now as it was then, too.

“Oh, no. You’re going to make me go shopping?” He gasped in mock horror. “I guess that will be just like the last ten hours of my life!”

The droid, apparently encouraged by Draike’s obvious enjoyment of the chaos improbably increased the rate of its snowball production, expanding its targeting protocols to include a group of Revelers passing by. They scattered with undignified shrieks.

“Hey, now, look at that,” he pointed cheerfully, “you’re now not the only one being graced with the holiday spirit. Look at all the joy we’re spreading!”

A particularly large snowball sailed over Grey’s Force shield, catching a Wookiee caroler square in the face mid-warble, ending the “song” in a surprised roar that echoed throughout the Promenade. 

“Uh oh,” Draike pointed in the direction of the latest victim, “I think you made him angry. Quick, use a Jedi mind trick to calm the savage beast!”

Seeing as she hadn’t stopped glaring at him, or at least attempting to with the awkward positioning, she didn’t fix him with another one. But it definitely turned withering at the comment. “That’s not how the Force works and you know it.”

“Really? Huh. I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you pull that trick on Theron when he gets all worked up about—”

“Shut. Up.” She ground out through gritted teeth, her cheeks flushing a shade of red that had nothing to do with the cold.

The Wookiee shook himself, ending clumps of snow flying in all directions. A larger chunk sailed through the air in a graceful arc, somehow managing to bypass Draike completely and splat across Grey’s freckled nose with pinpoint accuracy. Her eyes crossed as she stared at the dollop of snow now perched in the center of her vision, looking utterly ridiculous with her soaked sweater, bedraggled hair, and newly acquired snow mustache.

It was perhaps the most beautiful sight that Draike had ever seen.

So caught up in the ridiculousness of her snow-covered visage, he almost missed the moment Theron and Lyra returned. Almost.

Just beyond the still shimmering Force barrier that was still being relentlessly pummeled with a frankly alarming and endless amount of snowballs (how was that physically possible for it to keep generating those ad nauseam without being hooked up to a water supply?), he could see both of them emerging from the crowd. Watching in real time as there expressions morphed from confusion. Lyra’s went to weary exasperation int he span of a heartbeat. Impressive honestly. She’d clearly been spending too much time around him.

Theron, however, cycled through a rapid-fire series of emotions as if he couldn’t settle on just one at first. Surprise. Dawning comprehension, then a blossoming rage. That vein in his forehead—the one Draike had mentally dubbed “Old Faithful” for its reliability—began to pulse with a righteous fury.

“Oh oh,” Drake nudged Grey slightly as she furiously wiped snow from her face. “Don’t look now, but Lover Boy’s about to reach critical mass.”

She stopped wiping her face in time to see the thundercloud settling over husband’s face. “Theron, don’t—”

But it was too late. Theron was already in motion, the drinks he’d been carrying went flying, splattering across the Promenade’s flooring in a caffeinated explosion. Lyra let out an exasperated sigh, aking a Force-enhanced step back to keep it from splattering across her cute, practical little Life Day themed boots.

“My cocoa!” Grey’s lower lip protruded in the same way it did when she was five that somehow always got Draike grounded for the next week.

Theron moved with the precision of a trained operative, a coiled spring of protective fury unleashed. He vaulted over the railing, using it as a springboard to launch himself at the droid in a move that was as impressive as it was ridiculous. His dropkick connected with a resounding clang, sending the droid flying back, snowballs scattering in every direction.

Draike let out an appreciative whistle. “Nice form! Good execution. I give it a solid 9.5 out of 10.”

Grey’s withering glare somehow intensified. If that was possible. 

The droid sparked, sputtering dramatically. Its chassis was now dented from the well-placed dropkick, and the snowball mechanics seemed to be malfunctioning. The chest compartment opened and closed spasmodically as it tried and failed to rise, determined to find its quarry. With a final, pathetic whir, one last snowball launched weakly into the air, landing with a wet plop at Theron’s feet.

He stood over the fallen droid, chest heaving and looking more than a little pleased with himself. The antlers were a little askew, and the perfectly maintained fauxhawk mussed from the extortion. A few strands of hair escaped the gravity defying amount of hair gel he used to sculpt it and fell rakishly across his forehead. Perhaps on someone who wasn’t such a stick-in-the-mud, the sight might almost have been attractive.

Grey pinched the bridge of her nose, letting out a long exhale that somehow managed to convey both exasperation and fondness. “Was that really necessary?”

“Absolutely,” Theron replied without hesitation. He still glared at the prone droid, as if daring it to twitch. “What kind of husband would just stand idly by and let you get pelted with snowballs?”

“My hero.” Her deadpan reply was softened by the way her lips twitched, fighting back a smile. Ugh, it was so wholesome. Disgusting.

Lyra, meanwhile, was already attempting to do a little damage control, intercepting approaching cartel security personnel with an ease that suggested this wasn’t the first, or perhaps even hundredth, time she’d had to pull this maneuver.  She waved her hand in front of her vaguely, voice calm and authoritative, perhaps laced with a small amount of Force suggestion. "Everything's fine here. Just a small malfunction. We have the situation under control."

Crisis finally averted, Draike finally released his iron grip on Grey’s shoulders. She jerked away from him, still clearly irritated. She was in a sorry state, looking like she’d gone for a swim fully clothed. The once-festive sweater was now a sad, soggy mess. The dancing wampas flickered pathetically, their electronic holiday cheer no match for the droid's relentless assault.

She attempted to salvage the thing, wringing out the bottom of her sweater and creating a small puddle at her feet. The motion sent a cascade of melting snow and ice crystals tumbling from her hair, pattering against the floor like the saddest confetti imaginable.

“You know,” Draike stroked his chin thoughtfully, “I think I prefer this look. Really brings out your eyes.”

Her glare could have melted durasteel.

Draike took a step back, not because he was intimidated or anything. Truly, it was only to inspect his… mostly unintentional handiwork. Baby sister’s Jedi composure crumbling into murderous sibling intent? Check. Annoying droid in laying in sparking ruins? Also check. The stupid spy making a fool out of himself with overly dramatic and unneeded heroics? Double check. It really couldn’t have been any better if he’d actually tried to orchestrate this. 

So distracted with the beautiful poetry of it all, Draike completely missed the growing puddle of melted snow spreading across the floor from Grey’s soaked clothing. His foot his the slick surface, cutting off his internal monologue about his beautiful chaos. Time seemed to slow, his arms pinwheeling, a look of dawning horror spreading across his face.

“Oh, shi—”

Gravity took over, sending him crashing down hard on his ass right in the middle of an icy puddle, and leaving him in an undignified heap. He blinked up at the gaudy Life Day decorations adorning the ceiling.

Any attempt at Jedi-appropriate sympathy from Grey lasted about half a second, before she snorted. For her part, she did attempt to cover her amusement with a cough that fooled absolutely no one. “Are you alright? That looked… painful.”

“Your concern is touching, truly.”

Grey pressed her lips together, fighting a losing battle against her rising mirth. “I’m just glad to see you’re finally getting into the holiday spirit.”

“I will end you,” Draike promised, trying to rise imperiously from the ground, but slipping and falling again.

“And then I executed a perfect flying kick,” Theron was saying perhaps a little too loudly to a clearly unimpressed Life Day Reveler, gesticulating wildly as he mimed a blow-by-blow account of his droid takedown. “Perfect trajectory, form, sheer power. Who needs the Force?”

The Reveler, a Rodian wearing now snow-splattered Life Day robes, simply blinked at Theron before slowly inching away. 

Nearby, Lyra picked through the wreckage of their shopping expedition, plucking a sodden package from a puddle. She winced as she peeled back the corner of ruined wrapping paper, water dripping from it in a steady patter, adding to a growing pool at her feet that reflected the gaudy lights strung around them.

As if sensing his eyes on her, Lyra glanced up, arching one perfectly sculpted eyebrow in a single expression that managed to convey entire paragraphs of unspoken commentary.

A blend of “I saw that coming”, I told you so" and "you deserved that" all rolled into one. The slight twitch at the corner of her mouth betrayed her struggle to keep a straight face. Draike scowled, his pride bruised even worse than his backside.

“Don’t say it. “He pointed a finger at her, finally managing to shove himself into an upright position at least. “Not one word.”

Lyra opened her mouth, expression promising perhaps a remark about karmic justice, when a shadow fell over Draike. A towering Wookiee, draped in a festive sash that strained against its massive frame, loomed over him and let out a deep, rumbling sound. It was probably meant to be sympathetic—perhaps the Shyriiwook equivalent of "there, there." But to Draike's ears, it sounded suspiciously like amusement.

Before he could protest, a massive furry paw came down, patting him with surprising gentleness, though with enough force to still muss his carefully maintained coif. The gesture made him feel about five years old, which added another crushing blow to his already battered dignity.

“Watch the—” Another pat nearly knocked him sideways, silencing his protest. 

He flailed, struggling to maintain what little balance he had left. The Wookiee let out another sympathetic warble, misinterpreting the spluttered protests as need for more comfort. The worst part of it was one little sister’s poorly disguised attempts to suppress her mirth, the unconvincing coughs failing to cover her snickering.

The area around them was a disaster zone of holiday cheer gone wrong.  Shattered presents lay scattered around the sparking, sputtering gift droid.

"Hap-hap-happy Life D-d-day," it wheezed, a few sad snowflakes dribbling from its damaged chest. "Would you like to make a d-d-donation?"

Draike finally disentangled himself from the well-meaning Wookiee, rising with what little dignity he could muster as nearby, Theron had been forced to shift from trying to regale passersby with the heroic tale of droid slaughter to explaining to a very beefy cartel security officer why droid assault was completely justified. 

“It was a menace to society—it’s holiday cheer settings way too aggressive to be considered normal!”

The Nikto security guard looked unimpressed, reptilian features twisting into a scowl. “Sir, I fail to see how malfunctioning gift droid deserved such a brutal murder.”

“Murder?” Theron sputtered indignantly. “It was self-defense—”

Grey, still dripping, had given up on salvaging her festive sweater. She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering as the icy water soaked through her clothes. The dancing wampas on her chest gave one, final, pitiful flicker before going dark entirely.

Theron immediately broke off his impassioned defense of droid violence, shrugging off his jacket in one smooth motion and raping it over his shivering wife’s shoulders. As he fussed with the collar, making sure it was snug around her neck, he shot a pointed glare at Draike that clearly said “this is your fault”. 

Grey tried, and failed, to hide her little smile at the gesture, even as she half-heartedly protested. “I’m fine, really. It’s not that cold—”

Her words trailed off as she burrowed deeper into the warmth of the jacket, contradicting her claim entirely. The red leather engulfed her smaller frame, making her look even more bedraggled than before. But the contented sigh she let out betrayed her gratitude.

Kneeling down, still clutching the jacket around her, Grey began sifting through the wreckage of their shopping expedition. Her expression soured as she lifted a sodden bundle of documents, waterlogged and practically disintegrating in her hands. 

"Oh no," she groaned, squinting at the label. "This was the documentation for Master Gnost-Dural about the Hidden Chain’s latest activities. It's completely ruined."

“What a tragedy,” Draike muttered."

She shot Draike another exasperated look, this one leaning heavily towards the 'annoyed' end of the spectrum. "Do you have any idea how long it took me to track these down? Now I'll have to file incident reports about the incident reports."

"Ah yes, the bureaucratic circle of life. Truly, there is no greater tragedy in the galaxy."

“Lana has backups,” Theron put in helpfully, although he leveled a similarly annoyed glower in Draike’s direction. “Something about not trusting us with the sole copy of vital intelligence. Which, I loathe to admit, might be somewhat justified right about now.”

Lyra offered Draike a hand up, and he abandoned the attempts to wring out the hem of his jacket to accept her firm grip. She hauled him from the puddle with practiced ease. “Honestly, Draike, this is why we can’t have nice things.”

“I personally think we’re all better for the experience.” He straightened his back in an admirable, if ultimately doomed, attempt to retain some shred of authority. “Besides, seeing that damn droid get dropkicked like that was almost worth me wetting my pants—wait, getting my pants wet.”

Lyra’s lips twitched, managing to fight back a smile as she bent to retrieve another soggy package. “They do say that property destruction is the hallmark of a successful shopping trip.”

“It is when Agent Shan is involved.” Draike thumbed in Theron’s direction. “But also good riddance to an obnoxious menace.”

Grey glanced over in his direction. “I’m sure the Hutt Cartel will be thrilled to hear about our heroic droid slaying. The headlines practically write themselves: ‘Rogue Jedi and Idiot Brother Destroy Priceless Holiday Decorations.”

"Hey, it’s not our fault if they overpaid for that rusted hunk of junk. Clearly it should have only cost them a handful of credits.”

“Because they’re famously so understanding about such things.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm. He really had done a number on that Jedi patience of hers, hadn’t he? “And since you’re so eager to explain our heroic deeds, you can be the one to tell Master Gnost-Dural exactly what happened to his files.”

“Wait, what?”

“I mean, it’s only fair that you get to explain to one of the Jedi Order’s new Grand Master why his carefully compiled research is now soggy confetti."

“Well why the hell did you print it out on flimsiplast to begin with instead of sending him an e-mail like a normal person?”

“I’m sorry if he’s old fashioned—”

“Wait, Gnost-Dural regularly checks his e-mails.” Theron frowned in confusion. “He sends me lame screenshotted memes like every other day.”

“I,” Draike insisted, ignoring Theron like he usually did, “was an innocent bystander in all of this.”

“You’re about as innocent as a Jawa in a droid swap,” Lyra intoned dryly.

“Lyra,” Grey said, a little scandalized at the insinuation against Jawakind. She adjusted Theron's jacket around her shoulders, though it did little to stop the shivering that had set into her bones.

A second security officer joined the Nikto, this one a burly Zabrak with a badge that looked far too shiny for someone assigned to deal with Life Day mall chaos. In unison they crossed their arms, staring Theron down with the grim determination of underpaid employees counting the minutes to the end of their shift. When his indignant sputter of doing what any concerned citizen didn’t move them, Theron moved on to the subject of legal liabilities for Cartel-owned droids assaulting innocent shoppers, and both the Nikto and Zabrak exchanged weary glances before waving him off with matching sighs of defeat. Clearly, they'd decided that dealing with this particular brand of Life Day chaos wasn't worth the overtime.

Lyra, ever efficient, had somehow salvaged and redistributed the surviving packages, even producing a small satchel from seemingly nowhere to carefully tuck away the most delicate items.

“I don’t suppose you’ve got a spare set of clothes in there too?” Draike eyed the satchel with a mixture of hope and suspicion. “Life Day sweaters don’t count.”

Lyra's lips twitched, fighting back another smile as she adjusted the strap on her shoulder. "I'm good, Draike, but I'm not that good. Though I did manage to save your Corellian brandy."

Draike perked up, his soggy misery momentarily forgotten. "You're an angel among Jedi, you know that?"

Lyra gave him a sidelong glance, her lips twitching again. "Don’t push it, Captain. I’m still debating whether or not you deserve it. But I figured if I didn't save the brandy, you'd only cry harder."

“I do not cry,” he sniffed indignantly. “Just occasionally wallow. Besides, that droid had it out for me from the get-go. Did you see how it hounded me?”

“No, I was at Biscuit Baron.”

“It was like a predator stalking its prey—”

A mechanical whir cut him off, and the group froze, turning as one to stare at the defunct droid they’d left in their wake. The battered chassis sparked, chest compartment grinding one final time. Theron instinctively moved to shield Grey just as the droid let out one last sad little fwump.

A single snowball launched, arcing through the air, sailing past where Theron’s protective stance and Grey’s half-formed Force barrier to catch Draike square in the face. The droid let out a final, satisfied “Happy Life Day” before sparking and dying completely, lights flickering out like an errant breeze snuffing out a candle. 

Snow dripped down Draike's chin as his sister completely lose her composure, dissolving into the kind of laughter that had her leaning against her husband for support. As he wiped the slush from his face, he had to admit (though only to himself, and very, very quietly) that maybe he deserved that one. But only that one.

[brunossan]

SO, I SAW SOME PEOPLE TRYING TO READ THE SITH RESURGENCE FIC...

And i decided to help giving a resume about Aliana Beniko and the Beniko Clan for yall.

This is Part 1

So, in 2018, Lily talked about doing a star wars fanfic with a "Light Side Sith" character named Aliana Beniko, the only part about her changed being the fact that now she is full Dark Side Sith.

Aliana Beniko is the main character of Lily fantiction, and not only that but its her favourite oc, which is also one of the most disliked ocs for Star Wars fans.

As someone who read the 48 chapters of the Sith resurgence fanfic, and learned about the Lore of it, i will give to you a resume of the entire Beniko History

Lets begin with the past.

1-DARTH CAÍDA AND THE OLD REPUBLIC

The history of Aliana status even before she was born. In the Old Republic games its normal that players become the figure of Hero of Tython, an event of the game where you stop a warmongering Sith Lord on its mission to destroy the Galaxy. But what happens in this fic is basically that Lily character in the game is this said hero but not only that, she also marries one of the game main characters, a Sith named Lana Beniko. After the events of the Eternal War, a moment where both Jedi and Sith worked together to defeat the Eternal Empire, they decided to stay away from The drama and marry on another Planet. About Lily Character, her name is Darth Caída, wich means The Fallen Darth, because before becoming a Sith Lord she was a Jedi Knight.

After marrying eachother, both of them decided to form themselves an order of Sith called The Beniko Order. This would be a 100% female Group of Sith, where the members would be not united by blood, but other bonds. In another words, almost no one on this clan is blood related, but instead was adopted, was an apprentice or married a member of it. The clan also went into a more personal route, not focusing on becoming The strongest or The most Powerful Sith, but instead praising The love of a family and the low life.

This Sith Order stayed low for all of their lives, until the fall of the Sith Empire. So it happened the Rule of Two.

2-Darth Valee Beniko and Darth Bane

Darth Valee Beniko is a character that its only more mentioned in the Wikia than in the own fanfic, but its The one who built The ideals of the Order of Beniko after Darth Bane killed all the Sith and instated The Rule of Two. As i cant resume much without giving examples, there are some prints on both her vision of it and how the Beniko Order goes about certain themes

Yeah you read it right. Valee Beniko basically went the route of "Toxic Masculinity ruined the Sith". But after that nothing much is revealed about the Beniko clan, especially other members besides a very few ammount of them.

Like most of the Sith, the Beniko clan stayed in hiding. However, they didnt had easy lives, not only because of the Sith, but also because of a thing. A thing lily added to spite both the fans of Star Wars and the entire Star wars lore around.

A thing called "The Curse".

3-The Force hates them

Lily know that People dont like her oc, and specially her opinions about Star wars and the Force. Mostly of her opinions come from The game Knights of Old Republic 2, where we learn about the Nihilistic vision of the Force of Darth Thraya, who instead of seeing the Force as a mystical energy or a hidden power, sees it as an entity with will and preferences, who hates those who dont rely or worship them.

In this fic, The Force is treated as an evil entity who hates Dark Side users because they dont follow its will and even enslave it. Their hatred is more followed towards the Beniko Family, who follows a different path from other Sith, taking their powers from Passion instead of hate or fear, and being more focused on self-reflection than trying to be more powerful on the Force. Because of that, the Force kills them on purpose, putting dangers on their way to get rid of them. However, as this is a Lily fic we are talking about, The Force gets defeated by the ultimate powers of Mary Sueness of Aliana Beniko, but this is information for the next part.

Hope that i helped a bit, i will do part 2 soon enough

Bye bye

[anchanted-one]

I've started Book 7!

Book 7: Operation Scorpion (9970 words) by Anchanted_One Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game), Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Relationships: Lana Beniko/Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython, Elara Dorne/Theron Shan, Kira Carsen/Original Male Character(s), Aric Jorgan/Female Republic Trooper | Meteor Characters: Male Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython (Star Wars), Lana Beniko, Theron Shan, Darth Jadus, Kaliyo Djannis, Vector Hyllus, Darth Hexid, Master Ranos, Jasme Shan, Kira Carsen, Vaylin (Star Wars), Koth Vortena, Male Republic Trooper | Meteor (Star Wars), Female Republic Trooper | Meteor (Star Wars), Aric Jorgan, Yuun (Star Wars: The Old Republic), Male Sith Inquisitor | Force Walker (Star Wars), Lord Scourge (Star Wars), Shae Vizla, Leontyne Saresh, Gault Rennow, Vette | Ce'na (Star Wars) Additional Tags: Canon Divergence - Star Wars: The Old Republic (Video Game), Post-Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Eternal Throne, Star Wars EU - Freeform, Expanded Universe, Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython as the Outlander (Star Wars), Romance, War, Space Opera, Science Fiction, The Force Series: Part 10 of Peacebringers: An Old Republic Odyssey Summary: A sudden and stunning twist of fate! Darth Jadus has emerged from hiding after more than a decade! Acutely conscious of the danger he poses, Lana Beniko volunteers to lead the efforts to track him down before he vanishes again. But Jadus is unlike any other enemy out there. He is dangerous and deadly, but cold and rational. And he plays the long game, and plays it for high stakes. No one wants to see what will happen if he wins. And no one wants him to slip away again.

[queer-starwars-bracket]

Queer Star Wars Characters: FINAL

Juhani | Identity: lesbian | Media: Knights of the Old Republic

Juhani from 2003’s Knights of the Old Republic was the first ever queer character in Star Wars. The Mandalorian Wars rendered Juhani’s family refugees on Taris after the destruction of their homeplanet of Cathar. Juhani was enslaved due to her mother’s debts, but was liberated by the Revanchists when they freed Taris from Mandalorian rule. This inspired her to travel to Dantooine to train as a Jedi, where she fell in love with her fellow padawan Belaya. For her final trial, she was tricked into believing she killed her master when consumed by the Dark Side. She fled into the wilds of Dantooine, her turmoil agitating the wildlife. Dealing with Juhani is the player’s final trial as a Jedi, and they can either kill Juhani or handle the situation diplomatically and return her to the light. She then joins the player as a companion.

Traveling together, Juhani grows close to Revan and can be romanced by female Revans (the game shipped with the gender flag for romance bugged, but she is intended to be a lesbian). She takes the player turning out to be Revan very well, as she never truly accepted that Revan turned to the Dark Side due to how the Revanchists saved her. If the Dark Side ending is chosen, the player must kill Juhani.

Juhani strives to be a good Jedi, strongly believing in their principles. However, she struggles with the in-born aggression and heightened anger of her species, which with her perfectionism creates a vicious cycle that drives her towards the Dark Side. Other than Revan, she kept herself separate from the rest of the crew of the Ebon Hawk, especially Canderous Ordo due to the Mandalorian’s genocide of her people. She was also full of bitterness regarding the racism she faced on Taris, and struggled not to lash out against all humans because of it. 

Chelli Lona Aphra | Identity: lesbian | Media: Star Wars Comics

Oh Aphra, where to begin. Honestly the best way I can describe her is that she’s Star Wars’ Vriska. She’s a “rogue archeologist” and in marketing material sometimes compared to Indiana Jones, but the only similarity is that she can feature in the same wacky stories about retrieving artifacts except with none of the mismatch between modern ideas about archeology and repatriation and Indy being the hero, because she specifically isn’t. She was originally created for the 2015 Darth Vader comic series, recruited to help Vader raise a force that would let him coup the Emperor. She was so popular she then got her own comic series, making her the breakout star of the Disney/Marvel Star Wars comics. The Fandom Menace can’t touch her.

Her comics have been a series of frankly strange adventures involving Force artifacts, Vader either working with her or wanting her dead, and double crosses that leave your head spinning. She has Thrawn level tactical abilities, but only for schemes. She is haunted by how her trauma born behaviors make it hard for her to maintain relationships and be a good person. She has so many exes it's an entire section of this tournament. Her most significant relationships have been with Sana Starros and Magna Tolvan. As of the end of the Spark Eternal arc, the comic seems to be leaning towards a poly ending with the three of them, but first Aphra needs to stop self sabotaging.

One of Aphra’s greatest achievements was at the end of her 2016 comic run, where she trapped Vader in a PTSD flashback Force artifact on Tython and hacked his suit to allow her to erase Hoth from the Empire’s records. She did this for the sake of her loved ones who had joined the Alliance. Doing this gave Echo Base enough time to build up before they were found again that they were able to evacuate much more efficiently. That’s right, disaster lesbian love saved the Rebellion.

[smut-wars-exchange]

Masterpost | Ask | Rules | AO3 | 2024 Tagset | Dreamwidth | Discord

Nomination Queries #2

If you nominated any of the following noms, please contact us as soon as possible. You can reply to this post, send us an ask (ideal if you wish to remain anonymous), leave a comment on this post on dreamwidth or send us an email at smutwars@proton.me.

With no response from the nominators, changes will be effective on June 1, once the tag set is closed.

Alek | Darth Malak/Revan; Alek | Darth Malak/Female Revan

Nominator, please edit to either Alek or Darth Malak for the first character. Concerning Revan, we do not accept Revan without a gender modifier. Please add Any Gender or a gender of your choice. Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will accept these nominations as Darth Malak/Female Revan and Darth Malak/Any Gender Revan.

Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Lord Scourge; Nonbinary Jedi Knight/Lord Scourge

Nominator, if you want to nominate the specific Hero of Tython character, please edit to Female Hero of Tython and Nonbinary Hero of Tython. If you want to nominate an original character, please nominate Original Nonbinary Jedi Character. Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will accept these nominations as Female Hero of Tython/Lord Scourge and Nonbinary Hero of Tython/Lord Scourge.

Original female clone character/original female character; Original clone character/original female character

Nominators, we do not accept Original Characters if they are not paired with at least one canon Star Wars character. Please add at least one canon Star Wars character, such as Leia Organa/Original Female Clone Character/Original Female Character. Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will reject the tags.

Commander Fox/Senate guard

Nominator, did you mean The Senate Guard as the group within the Coruscant Security Force, the Coruscant Guard as the corps under Fox's command, or an Original Senate Guard? Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will approve the tag as Commander Fox/The Senate Guard Security Force to avoid confusion.

The Bad Batch/Female Reader

Nominator, who do you include in the Bad Batch? Do you include Omega? Do you include Crosshair? In this instance, the group might lead to confusion. Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will approve the tag as Crosshair/Echo/Hunter/Omega/Tech/Wrecker/Female Reader.

Original Female Character(s)/Original Female Character(s); Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s); Original Male Character/Original Male Character

Nominators, we do not accept Original Characters if they are not paired with at least one canon Star Wars character. Please add at least one canon Star Wars character, such as Finn/Original Female Character(s)/Original Male Character(s). Unless we hear back from you: the mod team will reject the tags.

Ships including clones with their designations, such as RC-1207 | Delta-07 | Sev/RC-3222 | Atin Skirata/RC-8015 | Fi Skirata and Padmé Amidala/CT-7567 | Rex

Nominators: as stated in the rules, please take the designations away. Nominate Rex instead of CT-7567 | Rex, Sev instead of RC-1207 | Delta-07 | Sev, etc.

Ships including (disambiguations), such as Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch)/Hera Syndulla and The Armorer (The Mandalorian TV)/Ahsoka Tano

Nominators: as stated in the rules, please take the disambiguation away, nominating Omega instead of Omega (Star Wars: The Bad Batch) and The Armorer instead of The Armorer (The Mandalorian TV).

Ships including diacritics, such as Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Reva Sevander | Third Sister, Obi-Wan Kenobi/The Son | Fanged God, Grievous | Qymaen jai Sheelal/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Reva Sevander | Third Sister/Anakin Skywalker | Darth Vader and Mon Mothma/Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo

Nominators: as stated in the rules, please pick a single identity.

Pick either Ben Solo or Kylo Ren;

Pick either Reva Sevander or Third Sister;

Pick either The Son or Fanged God;

Pick either Grievous or Qymaen jai Sheelal;

Pick either Anakin Skywalker or Darth Vader;

Use Thrawn instead of Thrawn | Mitth'raw'nuruodo.

Unless we hear back from you: the mod team might reject these tags.

[jukkaricity]

SWTOR OCs - Amayet

Full Name: Amayet Kodey

Aliases: Hero of Tython, Battlemaster of the Jedi Order, the Alliance Commander

Gender: Female

Specialization: Jedi Knight, Guardian

Amayet is known across the galaxy under many titles: Hero of Tython, Jedi Battlemaster, Master Kodey and most recently the Alliance Commander, but the honest truth is she would truly prefer if everyone would just continue calling her May.

Her Jedi path started like many others, she was born on Shili and given to the Jedi by her parents at the age of 2, she studied the ways of the Force, excelling in dueling and strategy and, by the age of 17, she traveled to Tython to begin her final trials to become Jedi Knight.

Amayet believes deeply in the Jedi code and aims to protect others regardless of the threat. She also believes in second, third and twentieth chances, remaining always hopeful and optimistic and pushing for rehabilitation of others whenever possible. A dutiful and loyal Jedi, she's a natural leader, empathetic and willing to raise others up.

These qualities however along with her idealism, can sometimes cloud her judgement and put her in danger, as she does not want to consider that others approach her with bad intentions until proven otherwise. She's quick to put herself in danger sometimes to an unreasonable extent giving many a headache to Lana over the years they've been working together, as Amayet can also be extremely stubborn when her mind is set to a choice.

------------------------------------

I'm gonna be working on building my SWTOR universe (maybe there will be a couple AUs with different OCs, working on it) with the very many characters I have, but for now I'd want to focus on this one and more characters are on their way.

[borealtwilight]

Tyûkshâsotasha Vex

Birth name: Ashara’ven Talis

Full name: Tyûkshâsotasha Vex Tsisajakqo 

Basic-ified name: Ashala Vex

Nicknames, titles, etc:

Asha ( utilized by those closest to her ), Ash ( utilized only by Orgus )

Commander of the Eternal Alliance, Alliance Commander, Commander

Hero of Tython

Outlander

Master Ashala / Master Vex ( utilized interchangeably )

Battlemaster of the Jedi Order

Princess of House Talis, Princess Ashara’ven ( no longer recognized, former title )

Champion of the Order

( a various array of nicknames in Tsis dialects, courtesy of Vowrawn )

Species: Sith Pureblood with recent human ancestry

Place of Birth: Tundra, Precipice

Gender & Pronouns: Cis female, she/her

Sexuality: Demisexual / demi-romantic

Height: 6’7”

DOB: 3675 BBY ( 32 at beginning of Class Story )

Class & subclass: Knight Guardian

In-game Romance / canon SO: No in-game romance / Malavai Quinn

[NB]: Her Tsis name, which she chooses as a young woman, Tyûkshâsotasha, means “victory of strength through struggle”. She later adopts Vowrawn’s family name, Tsisajakqo, as her own, seeing him as a grandfatherly figure ( headcanon created in conjunction with dearest @hermitmoss​ ! ) because, despite being of the Empire, he is Tsis, like her. Darth Marr’s younger full sister; they co-run the Eternal Alliance.

[starwarsandstuffs]

First chapter of my new fanfiction in the SWTOR fandom (in French) around a breakup of a platonic relationship and the consequences linked to it. Includes the OC of a very dear author friend @introversiontherapy 🥰🥰🥰

I plan 6 chapters (maybe a little more) for this fanfiction.

And what is certain is that this will not be the only fanfiction that I will publish in 2024! 😈

About fanfiction

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Characters: Original Alien Character(s), Female Sith Inquisitor, Original Human Character(s), Male Sith Warrior, Darth Malgus, Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython.

Relationships: Original Sith Character(s) & Original Sith Character(s), Original Sith Character(s) & Darth Malgus, Original Sith Character(s) & Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython

Summary: Sofonisba, Sith Inquisitor, has lost a dear friend. Raxn, a Sith warrior, left overnight. This departure greatly torments the Twil'ek who, to escape her pain, puts herself in the service of Darth Malgus. But forgetting is not that easy. By fleeing, she only sinks deeper into depression to the point that Darth Malgus feels obligated to do something to help her. But it's hard to help someone when your whole thing revolves around the dark side of the Force... But maybe somewhere in the Galaxy there are more knowledgeable people on this subject.

[diazuk-legacy]

Name: Shodu Roseq

Profile: Child of the Emperor and female Mirialan smuggler. Also a fourth wall breaker. She basically deadpool.

“Why do you think people should vote for you?” Shodu Roseq “I’m pretty, i’m sexy, I’m everything that you name it. Vote for me”

Name: Kianmari Srisgrace

Profile: Confirmed Hero of Tython. Female Jedi Knight. Slayer of the Sith Emperor and Commander of the Alliance. But Is a walking fire breathing zombie underneath all that armour.

“Why do you think people should vote for you?” Kianmari: “ I don’t know I’m just in it for the prize. My armour is shiny and golden so that might get me some votes. And afterall I am the Hero of Tython one of most famous and skilled knights in the galaxy.“

[greyssketchbook]

One Week Portrait (Spring 2022) - Day 5/Final

And we arrive at the final iteration for this round of One Week Portrait. I’m very happy with how this one came out, and had a lot of fun experimenting with a few different techniques (and I only crashed Clip Studio like, all of once with my five million layers).

And (under the cut) just for comparison’s sake, the progression of this year’s pieces, as well as previous entries:

2022

Year over Year Comparison

[greyias]

I wish you would write a fic where... Theron somehow amasses a following of actual, physical porn bots droids and shenanigans ensue

I saw this prompt come in and devolved into a fit of heinous cackling. How, oh how could I resist trying to render our collective Tumblr nightmare into fictional text form?

Context: While not required reading, this is technically a sequel to this stunning crackfic, authored so long ago. If you need a refresher on the Medical Droid Love Triangle Saga, follow this link. Or this one, which is the real villain origin story of this fic. Or don't, you're already cursed if you click beyond the read more of this post.

With special thanks to @grumpyhedgehog, @sandwyrm, @storyknitter, @kitsonpaws, and @andveryginger for providing me with ideas, cursed pornbot summaries, and many cursed HoloNet websites that should never exist. You are not required to read any of this.

Technically rated T, but in reality rated N for Nobody, because no one should have to read this. I'm packing my bags, as my ride to superhell just came. Enjoy.

It had started as such a normal day -- if you could indeed have called any day on Odessen “normal”. What with the galaxy always being at the brink of some disaster or another, and their merry little band of misfits being led by the galaxy’s most notorious do-gooder, Theron’s schedule and to-do list had a tendency to get derailed on almost a daily basis.

This, however, was not how that usually happened.

He’d paused, mid-step, finger still hovering over his datapad, mid-entry as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, slowly dawning horror washing over him. His head turned slowly, like one of those doomed characters in a horror holofilm to look at the droid he’d just passed.

It was one of the new ones that had come in on a recent shipment. So new in fact, that there was still a fleet of them in the middle of being unpacked in the Logistics Wing. Shining, tall and blue, its highly polished quadranium head pivoted to look back at him.

“What,” Theron swallowed, willing his voice to sound even and not give in to the creeping dread, “what did you say?”

“Theron Shan,” the droid repeated helpfully, “is a master lover.”

“Oh no.” The words slipped out of their own accord.

“Just a moment, sir,” the droid continued, seemingly oblivious to the human’s distress, “I’m not quite done with your evaluation yet. Let’s see, where were we?”

“No no no no.”

The round flattened dome that served as its head tilted to one side, beady orange eyes sweeping over Theron from head to toe, before resuming its cheery, if horrifying report. “Subject is an exemplary specimen. In good cardiovascular health, above average muscle tone. Tall, well-built, and very clean...”

“Um,” Theron stammered. “I’m...” Flattered? Taken? Leaving? Wait--yes, that last one. “Going now!”

He didn’t give the cursed machine any more time to continue ogling him, instead taking off down the hall at a very brisk walk that nearly bordered on a jog. His mind raced at he beat a hasty retreat, trying to understand what was happening. It had been over a year since the The Incident, dubbed by some as the “Sexy Spy Virus”, and others by much more crude names, where a little harmless reprogramming had taken on a life of its own. Theron had been meticulous in his coding of the antivirus, wanting to ensure that the entire debacle would be forgotten. There was simply no way that it could crop back in on its own.

“Theron,” the brisk accented tone of one Lana Beniko burst in over his comm, “why did a droid just feel the need to inform me that they found rust on its insides during its last tune-up?”

“I don’t know,” Theron insisted, but his words were almost drowned out by a metallic clanking echoing down the corridor.

He threw a look over his shoulder, and to his horror, saw that his robotic admirer had decided to give chase. 

“I’m going to have to call you back,” he quickly said into the comm as the droid picked up speed from a walk to an all out gallop.

“Theron,” she sounded both concerned and exasperated, which, considering Lana, was about par the course, “what’s going on?”

“Save me!” He shouted as he took off a dead sprint.

In his many years in the field, Theron had been threatened, sure. Shot at? Many times. He’d been drugged. Tortured. Stabbed through the gut with a lightsaber pike and lived to tell the tale. He’d run into Sith, Revanites, bounty hunters, thugs, fanatics and cultists alike. He’d been in more firefights than he could remember, and more covert ops than he cared to. He’d even been accused of being a traitor (although that was kind of the point at the time).

None of that compared right now to being chased down by a droid yelling at top volume claiming he was the best lover it had ever seen.

And this time, he was pretty sure it wasn’t actually his fault.

He rounded the corner from the corridor leading from the Logistics Wing, passing by the Commander’s (and at this point, his) Quarters. HK-55 and Z0-0M straightened to their full height at his arrival. Oh thank the Force, allies.

“Salutations: Agent Shan, you are looking quite spry today.”

“What?” he panted as he approached.

“Yes, Agent Shan, don’t believe what anyone else is saying!” Zeeyo exclaimed, throwing her arms into the air. “Your undercarriage doesn’t look rusty at all!”

Mind sharp as a tack, Theron realized the implications of this just in time, and dodged to the side, ducking and rolling as the assassin-turned-bodyguard droid lunged forward to trap him in a bear hug. Not pausing to even catch his breath, as soon as his feet hit the ground he propelled himself forward and further down the hall.

“Frustration: I only wish to profess my admiration for you, Agent Shan!”

“Nope nope nope nope!” Desperation was starting to tinge the edges of his words now.

The metallic clanking intensified as more droids behind him joined in the chase, all of their vocabulators joining in unison to tell him in one way, or another, that he was in fact, the pinnacle of sexual prowess.

Theron couldn’t run forever, despite whatever their programming was forcing them to say, his stamina would give out before the lustftul droids’ power supplies. As the corridor zigged and twisted, he saw an opening in the form of a door sliding open. Without hesitation he dove in, shoving the individual there, thankfully made of flesh and bone, aside as he slammed the door controls.

The door slid securely shut just as the thunderous clanking filled the corridor beyond, their lustful words of appreciation and encouragement nearly drowned out by the racket. Theron hadn’t bothered to look or count, but he was pretty sure that the number had risen from three in the scant moments it had taken Theron to dart from one corridor to the next.

He held up a hand to his lips as he turned to thank the person who had unwittingly provided his temporary salvation. The words of gratitude died on his lips, as he realized exactly who’s room he had sought refuge in.

For a moment, Theron truly considered surrendering himself to the lusty droid mob.

Draike Highwind’s face was caught somewhere between confusion and amusement, but the latter was winning out as he started to decipher individual phrases drifting in from the corridor. A dark brow arched higher, lips twitching with undisguised mirth as the stupid blue droid that had started this whole mess yelled once again about Theron being a master lover.

More seconds passed, the ruckus quieting down, before silence descended once more, and it was finally safe to speak.

“So,” Draike drew out the word, somehow lacing it with more innuendo than all of the malfunctioning droids combined, “what ya been doing, Shan?”

“Nothing!” he insisted, voice still hushed just in case one of the droids could somehow hear.

“Doesn’t sound like nothing.” His brother-in-law’s smirk widened into an almost feral grin, eyebrows waggling. “Sounds like you’ve been getting... busy.”

One of the greatest mysteries in the galaxy was how one man could make anything sound that dirty. “I was minding my own business!”

“Oh, I bet you were.”

“You’re having way too much fun with this.”

“I mean...” If looks could kill, the pilot would have melted on the spot. Unfortunately for Theron, Draike was apparently immune to that sort of thing. “How often do I get the chance?”

“Did you do this?”

“Me?” Draike let out a sharp bark of laughter. “Stars, I wish I could have thought of something this good! These are memories I will cherish forever.”

Theron massaged the bridge of his nose. “I hate my life.”

“I mean, I’m not really into droids,” Draike went on, either not knowing (or more likely caring) about his brother-in-law’s predicament, “flesh is more my kind of thing. But you know, if you and the little lady need to spice things up by bringing in a little metal--”

“Please stop. I’m begging you!”

“Begging, eh? So you’re saying you’re more into--“

“Forget it, I’m taking my chances with the sex-crazed machines roaming the halls.” His palm hovered over the door sensors.

“Theron, wait!” There was enough urgency in Draike’s voice to give him pause. “It’s dangerous out there, take this.”

At first, he was honestly afraid to look, expecting to be offered something like a condom or some other bad joke, but was surprised to see the other man holding out a stealth generator.

“To escape your fans.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea.”

“I know. I’m a genius.”

“I didn’t say that.” He quickly nabbed the stealth generator before Draike could change his mind and frowned at the initials carved in the side in Aurabesh. “Is this even yours?”

“Eh, close enough.”

Whatever, beggars couldn’t be choosers. Theron would deal with those potential repercussions later.  He flicked on the power to the stealth generator which let out a low, almost inaudible hum as a burst of life engulfed his form. He closed his eyes against the sudden burst of brightness, and when he opened them again, dark spots of the light pattern danced in his vision for a few seconds. He blinked a few more times before they faded away.

He waved an arm experimentally in front of his face, and only felt the slight movement of air. Draike didn’t seem to react at all, and that was probably good enough.

“Thanks,” he said, palming the sensor to the door.

Draike rolled his eyes and ambled out into the corridor, looking around with the air of a man all too used to hiding from those looking for him. Theron watched as he raised a hand to a very slowly moving GNK power droid.

“How’s it hanging?”

“GONK!” 

“Oh yeah? You don’t say! I think I saw him head that way.” Draike pointed in the direction leading to cantina. “Just between you and me, I heard he’s sweet on that droid who’s a comfort enthusiast.”

“GONK! GONK! GONK!”

Still hidden underneath the stealth field, Theron had to bite down the urge to make any noise of frustration and just turned an invisible, irritated gaze at the other man’s back. As if sensing Theron’s irritation, Draike just grinned wider.

“Yeah, you know how those spy types are. Always toying with droids’ hearts. You could do better than him.”

“GONK!”

“Oh, you spicy droid! Yeah, trundle off that way, big guy. I’m sure you’ll catch him!”

With a loud clanking, the GNK droid began his slow and steady journey towards the cantina. As the echoes finally faded, Draike casually stretched, pointing towards the direction of the War Room.

Theron skulked on by, but not before giving his brother-in-law a well deserved whop upside the head. The stealth field flickered momentarily on the physical contact before shimmering back into place.

“It’d serve you right to get caught by doing that,” Draike sniffed indignantly, “after all I’ve done to help you.”

“When all of this is over--”

“Hush now,” Draike waved at the air in front of him. “You have bigger problems to deal with. Meanwhile, I will be heading to the cantina. And definitely won’t be live-streaming any brawls breaking out over the Master Lover breaking droid hearts everywhere.”

Theron snorted out an annoyed breath, and checked his urge to trip Draike as he sauntered off, hands jammed into his pockets as he whistled a jaunty tune. Like the purloined stealth generator, he’d have to worry about slicing and corrupting any servers containing evidence of this mess after he figured out how to stop whatever this was from spreading any further.

The upside to this whole unfortunate side encounter, was that the stealth generator made it possible for him to quietly creep around any droids he passed in the corridor. Most seemed to be making a hasty exit for the cantina, almost as if word had spread of Drake’s false rumor about his and C2-N2’s torrid love affair and every heartbroken circuit was flocking in that direction now.

And when he thought about it like that, when exactly had this become his life? Oh, right. Like fifteen minutes ago. Or however long this nightmare had started. Time had sort of lost meaning, if he were being honest.

He managed to make it to the war room, undetected and unmolested, and quietly snuck his way towards the irritable blonde Sith, holding her head in her hands as if she were battling the world’s strongest migraine. As Theron approached the Sith, he could hear her muttering under her breath in frustration. He hesitated for a moment before clearing his throat, causing her to jerk her head up in surprise.

“Who’s there?”

“Quiet,” Theron hissed. “They might hear you.”

“Oh, for Sith’s sake,” she exhaled, “where in the blazes have you been?”

“Hiding,” he whispered urgently. “These droids have all gone haywire!”

“And who’s fault is that, I wonder.”

“Not me,” he insisted, “not this time!”

“Right,” she said sardonically, “and I suppose that’s why there isn’t a reality holoseries entitled ‘Programmed for Love’ currently being live-streamed in the cantina for the entire HoloNet to see.”

“Damn it, Draike!” Theron cursed. “I thought he was joking about that.”

“Of course. How did I not see that coming?” she muttered.

“I’ll slice in and scrub all of the servers after we figure out this... this... whatever this is?”

“Your insecurities laid bare in binary?” she suggested, oh so helpfully.

“Why did I come to you for help again?”

“Because--”

It was at that point, that a probe droid, currently speeding its way towards the cantina, happened to take notice of Lana talking to thin air, and veered off its intended trajectory, heading straight for Theron’s position near the back of the war room. If the loud alarms and flashing lights were any indication, it had been able to see through his stealth generator.

Wait... those weren’t alarm proximities it was flashing. As Theron watched its rapid approach, he couldn’t help but stare at it in dumb fascination, brow furrowing as he tried to make out the images it was projecting. If he didn’t know better, he’d almost say it was a bizarre mixture of Aurabesh and hologlyphs.

He squinted, just able to make out: “DX-98 🤖🔥 Analytical  Scanner 💋🙏 Okara Droid Factory 🔍🌌💕 Exobiology Research 🥵🍑 Top HoloFans 0.7%!”

Before he had a chance to process any of that, the droid was already upon him, pincher arms spreading wide to snap him up for some purpose far beyond its original programming. He only had milliseconds to react before the droid reached him, when an explosive force sent the droid flying backwards harmlessly, and had Theron landing ungracefully on his tailbone. The stealth field fizzled out with a pop on his impact with the ground.

A familiar figure landed between him and the droid, twin blue scarves billowing behind her dramatically, blonde ponytail swaying with the motion of her movement. A small frown of concentration bunched her forehead as his wife threw a concerned look in his direction.

“You requested rescue?” Grey asked.

“Ah, my knight in shining armor has arrived,” he quipped back.

“I am not wearing my armor.” The frown of concentration morphed into one of confusion.

“I--never mind.” He pushed himself to his feet, dusting off his hands. “Thank you for the timely intervention.”

She graced him with a hint of a smile and a bob of her head in acknowledgment. “Any time.”

“As touching as all of this is,” Lana broke in sourly, “it still doesn’t solve our larger problem.”

“Yeah,” Theron rubbed the back of his neck, “you’re not wrong. It sounds like this has spread across the entire base?”

“It appears that way,” Lana said tightly. “You know, you assured me that all of this had been taken care of the last time we dealt with this issue.”

“Hey now,” he bit back, “I’m a man of my word!”

She snorted at that. “Tell that to the Umbaran Transit Authority.”

“How are you still mad about that?”

“You tazed me!”

“Focus,” Grey said, eyeing the stunned probe droid warily. “If memory serves me correct, you had a program you deployed to revert the programming of the droids the last time this happened.”

“Yes, that’s what doesn’t make sense.” He watched as the holoprojectors on the downed probe droid flickered, hologlyphs flashing rapidly in the War Room’s dim light. “I programmed it to eliminate all trace of the offending code. The only way it could be reappearing now is if someone took one of the infected droids offline before I deployed...”

Lana arrived at the same conclusion right about the time that Theron did, picking up the thought. “I seem to recall a certain someone requesting you replicate your work for less-than-legal purposes.”

Theron angrily punched the button on his comm as he growled, “Gault!”

The Devaronian’s voice came back immediately, almost a little too suave. “Theron! What a surprise to hear your dulcet tones requesting my presence.”

“Gault,” Lana managed to keep some measure of calm, “are you responsible for this current situation?”

“What situation is that?” he asked far too innocently, even as a distant call of a droid’s clanking nearly drowned out it’s loud declaration of the presence of rust on one Theron Shan’s “bolt”. There was a moment of silence before he continued. “Oh! You mean the lustful droids currently running amok on the base?”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Lana said dryly. “My original question stands.”

“I am shocked, shocked and scandalized that my name would be the first to come to mind! Might I remind you, it was one Miss Djannis who requested you create her a Shan Sexbot.”

“Yeah,” Kaliyo jumped in on the comms, clearly annoyed, the sound of metallic brawling nearly drowning out her voice, “I wanted it for hilarious crimes! Not whatever the fuck this is!”

“Gault,” a third voice, Hylo Visz, cut in. From the background noise, it seemed she was in the same location as Kaliyo. “I swear, if you don’t help us figure out how to stop this, when you’re not looking I’ll cut off your--”

“Okay, okay, geez!” He interrupted before his significant other could finish whatever that threat was. “Fine, it was me! I deactivated a droid before Theron uploaded his program.”

“Of course.” Lana rolled her eyes upwards, as if asking the Force for patience.

“In my defense,” Gault continued, “originally it was just to shut the stupid thing up! But then Kaliyo came up with that brilliant idea for the Shan Sexbot Distraction, and I thought, why not hold on to this beauty in case it came in handy for a con?”

The sound of Theron smacking his forehead in frustration echoed throughout the War Room.

“So you know, just had a fun idea come to me the other day, so I extracted the original programming and altered a few things, and tried to put it into a new droid for my plan.”

“Did that droid happen to be a blue medical monstrosity?” Theron was actively massaging his temples at this point.

“I will have you know,” Gault said, “that BL-U3 is a consummate professional. You would be lucky to have him perform a medical exam on you!”

“Yeah, that was definitely his intent,” Theron shot back. “Purely professional and not lecherous at all! Which was not in any of my code.”

“Hey, I never claimed to be very talented when it came to software programming. I may have made a mistake or two when altering your code.”

“May have?!”

“How was I supposed to know that the remnants of the Gemini Frequency code in our systems was going to work after the entire Eternal Fleet had gone offline and deploy your software STD to the entire network? Sue me!”

“I’m considering it!”

Before the mostly pointless argument could escalate any further, the sounds of metallic clanking from above, roughly from the location of the cantina, began to grow closer, the cacophony increasing in volume, until it sounded like it was coming in all directions.

“That is not a good sign,” Grey’s mutter was nearly lost to the noise.

“Hey,” Drake’s annoyed voice cut in over the comm, “my livestream is now officially ruined! I hope you’re all happy!”

“I’m afraid to even ask why,” Theron said.

“Oh, it seems all of my extremely eligible and single contestants heard your voice over the comms and abandoned challenging Seetoo Enntoo to unarmed droid combat for the right to court you, and are now all headed in your direction.”

“Oops.”

“Worry not Agent Shan,” the unusually warbly vocabulator of C2-N2 came over the comms, “I will not rest until I alone can provide you with the ultimate in comfort!”

“We should probably get a different housekeeping droid after this is all over,” he told his wife.

That seemed a lesser concern to Grey, as she had shifted into Alliance Commander mode, and was currently on the comms, shouting for every available member of the Force Enclave to get to the War Room as fast as possible to help hold off the incoming army of lustful droids.

Yeah, come to think of it, that was probably more important.

“We must use nonlethal force,” she stressed, giving a particularly severe look to Lana when she said that, getting a simple nonplussed shrug in return, “as we only need to hold the droids at bay until we can come up with a solution. They are not to blame for what’s happening.”

Theron begged to differ, but she was probably right in this case. The cost of repairing or replacing an entire base full of droids would be astronomical.

As Force users began to stream in and take up position around the room, the sound of wheels racing along the metal plating caught Theron's attention, and he looked over to see a familiar silver T7-series astromech racing into the room. He tensed up instinctively at the sight of a droid, as anyone would have in his situation.

“Teeseven!” Grey called out with a smile, clearly not as wary or droidshy.

The little astromech let out a friendly whistle and series of chirps in binary, that roughly translated to: “T7-01 = Safe! // Been off network entire morning!”

“Oh, what a relief,” she breathed, “I would have hated for you to be infected with this too!”

He let out another series of beeps: “T7-01 = still in possession of original antivirus code. // Can tweak it and upload to servers = Save the day?”

“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Theron muttered.

“T7 = not scared!”

Grey’s expression melted into one of admiration and pride. “Teeseven, that’s incredibly brave -- but are you sure? Theron’s right, it could be very dangerous.”

“T7 = Jedi + Theron’s friend. // Helping > Risk!”

She looked at him and he returned the gaze with a small nod, realizing there wasn’t much in the way of choice. It was either that or let the droids overrun them. And then whatever happened when one of them actually got their hands on on Theron -- a prospect he wasn’t really that thrilled to explore right now.

“Fine,” he said tersely, “let’s do this!”

The two of them rushed over to the center console in the room, Theron pulling out his slicer spike as Teeseven plugged his scomplink arm into the main network terminal. The rest of their reinforcements from the Force Enclave arrived just in time and formed a ring around the two slicers. They managed to erect a large Force barrier just as the metallic clanging and clatter grew to a roar, announcing the arrival of the lecherous horde.

Near the front of the mob, Z0-0M threw up her arms in glee and excitement as she jumped to try and catch sight of her beloved. “There you are Agent Shan! You left before we could finish our conversation -- you were saying something about oxidation?”

“Interjection: Do not listen to this hussy, Theron! You and I will make sweet explosions together!”

Theron valiantly tuned them out as he took in a feed of the original antivirus code that Teeseven shared with him. Yes, this all looked correct. Unfortunately, he was going to need get a look to see how Gault had mutilated his beautiful original coding to know how to alter it.

Teeseven was two steps ahead of him, and a stream of code flashed across the HUD in his ocular implants. He watched in horror as he saw the butchery with his own two eyes.

“Gault, where the hell did you get this code?” he asked over the comms incredulously. “HornHub?”

“Excuse you, I only frequent the classiest places on the galactic communications grid, like HoloHump!” The growl of Gault’s name from a very angry Mirialan smuggler had him quickly adding. “You know, I’m just going to shut up and let you concentrate on what you’re doing.”

Teeseven, ever the valiant worker, ignored the conversation completely, and was hard at work running diagnostics on the altered code and the best way to modify the antivirus to address it. Theron watched the stream of letters and numbers fly across the HUD at lightning speed.

The little guy was good at what he did. He let out a flurry of beeps and whistles as almost the last piece of this very lurid puzzle started to fall into place. The little droid seemed to almost be singing along with the code as he wrote it, like a mechanical maestro conducting an orchestra. They were close, so close and--

The next whistle Teeseven let out was not his normal, cheerful way of communication, much lower in timbre and more seductive.

No.

Teeseven whirled his flat head around until his visual sensor faced Theron, and let out another wolf whistle, his holoprojector lighting up to proudly display: T7-01 🤖👀🔍 Observant 👁️🔭 Scanner 🔍🏞️ Tython 🌄👏 215 🍒♎ Repairing 👅🙈 Top HoloFans 3.6%

“What was that?” Grey shouted to be heard over the droids catcalling.

“No no no no,” Theron muttered, “we’re so close! Don’t do this to me, little buddy!”

“What happened to my precious baby boy?” Grey demanded, sweat trickling down the side of her face as she struggled to maintain the Force barrier.

Beyond the barrier, the rest of the porndroid army followed suit with Teeseven, all either wildly projecting their own series of hologlyphs and random facts about themselves and their planets of origins, while others struck disturbingly seductive poses, and a scant few demanded that “ShanDaddy” start a holocall with them in private.

With no time and no recourse left, Theron dove back into the system, yanking Teeseven’s unfinished code as he was nearly overwhelmed with lewd images and thirsty hologlyphs, struggling to finish and upload the code as the volume in the War Room rose to a crescendo just as the Force users’ began to fall, one after the other, their barrier weakening by the moment.

The overwhelming cacophony of hologlyphs, lewd poses, and robotic come-ons that had filled the War Room suddenly disappeared. All eyes turned to the droids as almost in unison, as they all powered down—a sign that their malware had been neutralized. Theron slumped back in relief, his work finally done.

Grey, Lana, and the others let out a long sigh of relief, the tension leaving their bodies in a rush.

“Thank the Force,” Grey murmured, sinking down to the ground. “I do not think I could have held that barrier much longer.”

Theron nodded, feeling a similar sense of exhaustion. He leaned back against the console, closing his eyes but was unable to banish the mentally scarring series of images that were probably permanently burned into his retinas.

“Remind me,” he said faintly, “to obliterate HoloHump’s servers. Once I’m done murdering Gault.”

“You act as if there will be anything left after I find him,” Lana said darkly.

“Remember everyone,” Grey spoke in her best and most official Alliance Commander voice, “murder is bad and frowned upon in the Official Alliance Employee Handbook.”

“Query: Why are we all in the War Room?” HK-55 asked as he came back online. “And more importantly, why is that blue meddroid manipulating its medical instruments into a heart shape, as if expressing affection towards the Commander?”

[honekitteh]

I am so excited to have gotten a slot in @emegustart‘s latest batch of Valentine’s Day commissions.  LOOK AT THEM!  THEY ARE SO ADORABLE!  (insert loads of flailing here)

I do love opening my email first thing in the morning to amazing art.  Truly makes the rest of my day immensely better.

[swtorpadawan]

But what if the female Jedi Knight wants Kira???

Are you saying I can’t get any man I want?

[swtorpadawan]

[CM] There is no passion, only... by WBreaux 

Please visit the artist's DeviantArt pages

From awhile back - Looks like someone couldn't wait for Onslaught! :) Thanks to @baraste-legacy for the idea!

[greyssketchbook]

Across the Stars

[honekitteh]

Omg I love it so much! He totally is sweating about this haha!

Inktober 2019 01: “Ring”

This one is for @honekitteh who mentioned that their Jedi Knight happened to have been given a ring by Theron Shan…. who was I to ignore that fact? I amused myself by imagining that the poor dude is probably sweating more over getting this just right than he has about defusing bombs.