#and if a single planet DID come up with their own sort of code of conduct that still wouldn't apply to the GAR

[fantasyfantasygames]

SPULTURATORAH!! 2ND EXTERMINATION

SPULTURATORAH!! 2ND EXTERMINATION, Keetoms, 2024

Hot. Off. The. Presses. Directly into my hands before the edges were even trimmed or the cover placed on it. Seven hundred pages of raw ancient retro-future. The author gave this to me on January 2nd and it took me until now to actually read the whole thing.

SPULTURATORAH!! 2ND EXTERMINATION (S2E from here on out to avoid overwhelming us all with Teh Capslock) is a gonzo mashup of different game styles, settings, and genres. The original game (S1E, I guess) is a classic of maximalist game design in a tiny package. In fact, it's so small that there are more pages in S2E than words in S1E. That's ultra-maximalist game design for you.

So what did they do with the 698ish new pages? A lot, thankfully.

30 pages total of ToC, index, thanks, and license. It has its own bespoke license that I am not good enough at lawyer to understand.

10 pages of extra explanation for the original ruleset, which honestly it needed.

20 pages of gonzo backstory for King Gilgamesh. I appreciate that they did not in fact explain where he got the Levitating Darkness Throne. They did a great job folding in the new chapter of the Epic of Gilgamesh that was discovered only recently.

A 40-page adventure set in the Ziggurat of Ur, complete with a Narrative Dungeon linking this place to the Eternal Realm of Narrative Awesome.

9 pages of random-roll tables you can use for Trait One, Trait Two, and Trait Prime.

2 pages to explain the difference between what you can use for the numbered traits and what you can use for the prime trait.

30 pages of alternate uses for TRAIT ZIGGURAT BARLEY.

18 pages of equipment.

31 pages of vehicles and riding animals.

2 pages on currency.

14 pages of hacking rules.

7 pages of rules clarifications from the unofficial 1.4th edition. Nice to see them supporting fan works.

114 pages of monsters, each of which is a mutated version of King Gilgamesh from another universe or a shattered piece of our own, come to drag you back to his den and devour you. There are big ones, scaly ones, porcupine-like ones, multiple fragmented body parts moving together, one rolled into a beholder-like shape, one fused forever into a throne of pure orange light, all kinds of stuff. I like this.

A 6-page writeup of the God Shamash, which is sort of unnecessary but interesting anyway.

A 4-page running edge-to-edge map of Babylon and its rivers

8 pages of word jumble. I think it's a code. I am not entirely certain.

115 pages of adaptations from S2E to other rule systems: Deadlands, Torg, Fate, Altaplana, Numenera, Dungeon War, MSR, and Fantasy Wargaming: THLOA.

Good lord 700 pages is a lot of pages.

1 page accidentally taken up by a single dangling word ("it") at the end of a sentence. I have been there. Doing layout sucks sometimes.

96 pages of color art plates. Right in the middle of the book. The rest of the book has no art. The center has almost 100 solid pages of pinup Babylonian future barbarian blade hunter psychics. It's all the work of one mad genius who is credited as a bunch of black rectangles with diacriticals above and below them

A 3-page essay on why Nobilis is the greatest game ever, which has an acrostic that disclaims the entire section.

4 pages of detailed wargame rules.

22 pages of domain management guidelines.

12 pages of "spoilers". I still do not know what most of these mean.

A 2-page spread of Gilgamesh's family tree.

15 pages of writeups for miscellaneous folks on said tree.

28 pages on the language used in ancient Babylon, complete with cuneiform how-to.

A 16-page "node map" of the retro-future Babylonian cybernet that leads to outer space, where the planets are manifestations of deities.

21 more pages of detail covering the strange planets of our solar system as the Babylonians knew them: their cities, their rulers, little adventure seeds, advice for GMs for running stories in them. I do kind of wonder if someone else wrote this section.

1 page of probability notes, which is all you need for a 1d6-roll-under system really.

An 8-page character sheet, which is a bit excessive for characters with 4 traits.

2 pages that just contain the original game.

I will admit - there is actually too much in this game. I'm not sure it would have worked to make it a string of 50ish short supplements, but it's still an awful lot to absorb. The "maximal game, minimal package" has turned into "ultra-max game in a doorstop package". If S3E ever arrives (presumably with three exclamation points) I hope they do some judicious trimming.

I have no idea if this behemoth will make it to stores, or whether the shipment will collapse under its own gravitational pull and become a black hole. Either way, heck of a collector's item.

[blazehedgehog]

Okay so you've apologized for choosing the wrong words over the SAGE 2024 showcase trailer, but doesn't that mean that somewhere inside you still think parts of what you said are true? You still came to those conclusions one way or another.

Yes and no.

I would like to open this saying I used to be known as a pretty harsh critic when I started writing about SAGE for TSSZ News. I hurt a lot of feelings but I always had a logic behind what I was saying. Ultimately I figured I was judging people by standards they didn't deserve, and I kind of softened my view.

By that I mean I was judging fangames against more professional standards, and then I realized these were just hobbyists having fun and didn't deserve to be raked over the coals like that. After all, a game you pay for and a game you download for free create two very different expectations.

So I'm going to single someone out here and I'm sorry in advance for doing this, but I saw Sonic Test Labs in the SAGE 2024 showcase video. They've removed Sonic and replaced it with an original character -- a furry wolf wearing jeans, I believe. (It's a rat)

Now, I'm not out here to insult somebody's OC or even their fursona. Something I've been trying to remind people in slamming on the brakes of all of this SAGE hot water over on Twitter is that I think anybody should make anything and be proud of that. I literally just put out a Shadow Generations video 2-3 months ago where I have a long montage of fanart I drew of my Sonic OC, as I talk at length about not running from your past and embracing who you used to be, even if it was cringe. I am not here to tell anyone to stop making things.

But, like, the 90's were full of "mascots with attitude" and really only one or two stuck around, and the most prominent example is Sonic the Hedgehog. Most of these furries were lucky to get a single sequel and then they disappeared off the face of the planet, some only resurfacing ironically.

Sonic the Hedgehog, just as a character design, is kind of a one-in-a-million shot. To be so simple and so iconic and so appealing to so many people... the epitome of lightning in a bottle.

And the indie game space is a very different place than it was when a lot of people were pitching Sabrina to ditch "Lilac the Hedgehog" and make Freedom Planet into an original game she could sell, you know?

So when I see Sonic Test Labs and it's got a new name, it's dropping the Sonic connection and it's starring a fursona it's like, good for you, all the power in the world to you, I hope you succeed, but also, at this point... is this going to be worth the change? I guess I'm not the developer of what is now "Wick3r: Tricks, Keys & Speed", so I can't answer that. They have a lot of talent, though, and Sonic Test Labs was a standout game for me last year, so we'll see.

I am coming at this from my own perspective as a game developer, and I've hit a pretty big streak of bad luck as of late, I feel. I have no more time for the sort of game development I really want to do and I haven't released anything meaningful in years. The last few things I did release, I'm not really proud of anymore.

Let's take OverBite. I genuinely wanted to make OverBite into a real game. I was making steps towards that. Then my whole life got turned upside down, I lost my motivation, and I got caught up in the Youtube game.

The further I get from OverBite, the more I see its flaws. It was a Game Jam game. Most of its levels were constructed in about five hours. I have a fat design document full of too many ideas for the final game that need to be re-thought, paired down and streamlined.

I can't do any of that. I have absolutely no faith that a current version of OverBite would sell anything even remotely meaningfully for me to be worth the time I'd put into expanding (or even outright rewriting) its code, polishing up its visuals, implementing new mechanics, new levels, bosses, etc. That means spending years effectively wasting time I could be spending on my Youtube channel, where my hard work is more directly rewarded.

And it kills me. It makes me want to cry. But there's a cold part of me that says, "Get over it. You can't have your cake and eat it too. You can't do everything. Pick a lane and build that up, you can't be so scattershot anymore."

But I have so many game ideas, and more keep piling up. And even if I tell myself I can't be so scattershot anymore, I still end up working on some of them anyway. Because my heart wants to make video games and my brain says it's not worth it anymore. The market is too crowded, the investment is too large, the gains are too small.

If I put my full weight behind my Youtube channel, I make thousands of dollars a year. Not even five figure numbers, but a non-trivial amount. For Overbite, I made just over a hundred bucks, and most of that was begging for people to help cover the Steam Greenlight fee.

Or, let's say, "Better Bubsy." That Bubsy joke game that stopped being ironic and started being earnest. I work on it for a few weeks every April for the last four or five years. It got to the point where some respected people I know were saying I should pitch it to whoever owned the Bubsy IP. Which at the time was UFO Entertainment. Eventually that changes hands when Atari buys the Bubsy IP from UFO, and the CEO of Atari is out there making an open call for indie devs to submit a Bubsy pitch. This is my chance. Better Bubsy could be a real thing!

I even speak to someone who works directly at Atari! I don't even have to drop it in their pitch inbox! It's getting personally sent up the chain!!!

...

Atari and Limited Run announce a Bubsy remaster pack where they are making their own "select improvements" to the old games. That is effectively confirmation that they did not care about what I was selling. More time wasted.

Forgive me if I'm not very warm to certain ideas right now and I have a cynical, bitter heart towards certain aspects of game development. I am personally in a very conflicted place right now, and it came out in the wrong ways towards people who did not deserve it.

(For those of you who don't know what this is about, this, this, and this twitter thread should clear things up.)

[clonecumber]

The fact the Star Wars universe doesn’t actually have an equivalent of the Geneva Conventions or really any sort of actual law of war really fucking shows sometimes.

I rambled a bit so I’m cutting it here.

I mean, it makes sense in-universe. Not even getting into that the last(?) major major conflict the Republic had to deal with was against Sith and that would definitely leave a mark on their approach to warfare, I’d imagine, the Republic around the time of the prequels and a bit before that period probably wouldn’t really see the need for international (you know what I mean) laws mandating conduct in warfare. War up until the Clone Wars was sort of treated as...well, very “what happens in your house stays in your house” and you could be as awful as you wanted to each other on your own planet provided it didn’t go spilling out on the street to bother the neighbors.

Inter-planetary conflict just didn’t happen in the form of traditional (”traditional”) warfare (when it did happen, it seems like it was almost all economic volleys, targeted mercenary jobs, and the occasional angry insurgent group that made its way off-planet), and the Jedi were really the only ones who cared to go wandering around and sticking their noses in to single-planet problems. There’s no way in hell the Senate was going to regulate warfare. “Why is your mess my problem,” was probably their thinking.

(Palpatine did his job way too well.)

Which means we roll into the Clone Wars with zero Republic-wide systems in place to mitigate the damage what-so-fucking-ever. The Separatists sure as hell aren’t going to open “let’s not be total fucking animals about this” talks that might lead to a universe-equivalent of at least the Geneva Conventions, after all. They have droids. They don’t care. The ones who would have to open those talks would be the Republic, which they maybe might have if they’d had to draft their own citizens into the shiny new GAR beyond some officers and a bit of the supporting staff, but.

I don’t even think I need to continue that. We all know not a single person in the Senate is required to give a single flying fuck about the clone troopers, which of course means they don’t, and they’ve already been conditioned to think of civilian casualties as someone else’s problem, which means The Clone Wars is a literal fucking free-for-all. 

You literally can’t commit a war crime because the laws defining a war crime don’t exist.

this just in: star wars is a literal dystopian hellscape i fucking

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Do you think the Jedi had any flaws that you think should have been fixed? People like to say that the Jedi order should have been more loving and should have shown more emotion. And I also heard someone say that they were kinda flawed in a way at the time of the Clone Wars. Some I'm just wondering what do you think? Should the Jedi have changed things a little bit, or were they perfect the way they were? (Fyi I love the Jedi so please don't take this the wrong way)

This is gonna be a little repetitive because I have several asks along those lines, but if I started sorting them out I'd never get to answering them. (And don't worry, I'm not taking it the wrong way at all! Even if we disagreed, you'd have to be downright rude for me to be annoyed by an ask.) I kind of already stated my position on this a while back but it doesn't hurt to clarify again, so here:

I don't think the Jedi were 'perfect' the way they were, because there's no such thing as perfection in nature. I can make a list of flaws that individual Jedi had, if you want (Quinlan is rude, loves to show off, is a pain to work with; Ki-Adi comes off as haughty, he can be ruthless; Qui-Gon is impatient, stubborn, somewhat short-sighted; Jocasta is proud; Obi-Wan has a blind spot the size of Anakin and can be a bastard; Yoda can be too vague, Ahsoka too caught up in her own emotions, Mace and Adi too serious - etc. etc.) but that really wouldn't be the point, because the question is more regarding the Order's flaws.

"And I also heard someone say that they were kinda flawed in a way at the time of the Clone Wars"

Lucky you if that's all you've heard, ah ah, because the criticism is usually much more specific and often in terrible faith. But 'kinda flawed'? Sure the Jedi were. Everybody is kinda flawed, and every culture is kinda flawed, that's never up for discussion. But what those specific flaws are and how you fix them in a society is really the question when dealing with large groups, and we don't have the answer.

My own take is: no, I don't really think they should have 'changed things a bit.' As in: I don't see one or more big specific problems within the Order that are easily identified and fixed, and that, if fixed, would have made the Galaxy an unquestionably better place with no drawbacks.

Were they 'too cold' and needed to show more warmth? That's horribly subjective, but here's my (very outdated) masterlist where I delve a lot into Jedi culture in general, and here is a series specifically showing how free they are with physical displays of emotions, for example. Not loving enough is definitely not a Jedi problem!

Is it bad to take children away? It probably creates a lot of messy situations that I'm happy to explore, but it is ultimately the parents' choice + there is plenty of indication that the children are not entirely cut off from their birth heritage, and Lucas explicitly said that being raised communally was the best thing for anyone aspiring to the Jedi path. We have no indication that making the Order into a sort of boarding school would have been better.

Should they have been less involved in politics? They seem to get shut down more often than not. Should they have been more involved in politics? There's not even a consensus on that.

Should they have been spending all their time freeing slaves? Now that's not fair, because there is no realistic way for them to be doing that.

Were they too strict on Anakin, or not enough?

Should they allow for open romantic relationships? (which they more or less already do, because we have no indication that they explicitly forbid romantic connections and enforce that ban, just that they highly encourage their Knights not to commit to a relationship when they're already committed to the Order - can't be married to two different things, essentially) We have absolutely no indication that this would have a positive effect on the Order, or even that it's what most Jedi would want.

For the most part we don't even know the exact policies, Code, traditions and rules of the Order, so we have very little to go on from for practical things they could 'fix.'

Sure I'll admit that it was messed up to have Padawans fight a war, or to essentially torture Bane to get him to tell where he had hidden the holocron with the list of Force-sensitives kids, ignoring the irl and in-universe context around these things. Sure the war wasn't as clear cut as the good Republic and the bad Separatists. Sure the Jedi did unethical things throughout canon (little known tidbit: as did every single character in Star Wars, which isn't to say that criticism is meaningless, but that it always need to take context into account).

Maybe the Council should be bigger. Maybe they should have worked with non-Jedi more.

But I don't see big systemic issues in the workings or the culture Order that directly stem from malice, incompetence or unforgivable ignorance, and that could or should have been 'fixed' for the Jedi to be 'less flawed' as a group, because that's a big claim to make about any culture, even a fictional one.

People get to tear Satine to shreds for removing violence from Mandalorian culture after a civil war that shattered a planet, glassed their homeworld and decimated them, because she dared to go against the Mando beliefs and traditions, so I similarly reserve the right to defend that the Jedi's lifestyle seems to work well for them, and that we are never shown or told what precisely it is that they should have done better, and how they should have done that. I don't see that there are any drastic changes they would have needed to make to deserve to be recognized as good. As for changing just a little bit, there would be no consensus on what those little changes should be, because little problems are subjective, hard to determine, and every time you fix one little problem, you create a new little problem, and there'll never be a way around that.

tldr; Sure, the Jedi are plenty flawed, y'know, like people, but I don't think we can pinpoint one or more precise things they should have changed to be 'better,' being flawed doesn't in any way negate all the considerable good they did, and it's kind of a moot point anyway, because they all died through no fault of their own (Palpatine couldn't have given have a kriff about their philosophy, beyond the part where they were against murder and wouldn't let him be king of the whole universe, the bastards - Order 66 would have happened regardless of the rules about attachment). Basically, I can make a list of shitty things individual Jedi did or said, but nah, I wouldn't change the Order.

[winchesterxxi]

Come Back (Obi Wan x Reader) | Part 2/2

Rating: T (Teen and Up Audiences)

Type: Angst

Summary:  About a year later since Reader was last seen, word comes to the Jedis that there is a new Sith Lord that has been building a reputation on killing Jedi Masters. Obi Wan is sent to investigate.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Swearing, deviations from canon, descriptions of violence, death.

A/N: Really poorly written, I apologize but my mind is all over with uni work

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

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Dagobah.

A new Sith Lord had been tormenting the galaxy for the past few months, taking villages at a time in search of Jedi Masters, or so the word ran. As it had been made known by the Council, this Sith hasn’t taken a single civilian life but rather targeted the Jedis that would come to defend them. Almost as if luring them to their deaths.

Mace Wu managed to detect a pattern in the planets this Sith Lord visited and deduced that Dagobah was the logical subsequent destination.

It was a rupture in the path of civilian planets the Sith had visited: Dagobah was one of the purest locations in the galaxy, one of the strongest with the Force, Qui-Gon had taught him once, only ever visited by Jedis – the perfect trap.

Obi-Wan felt a dutiful need to be the one to fly out to this planet and be the one fighting with the Sith and, hopefully, bring an end to their destruction.

Dagobah’s ground was hard to walk in, the mud and soft soil pulling at each of Obi-Wan’s steps made his expedition all the harder and slower. He was alone, only accompanied by trees and the animal lifeforms that inhabited the planet, but there was something else.

Just as he had expected the Force was strong on this location, both Living and Cosmic. All of his senses were enhanced and his head felt in a state between euphoria and bliss, and he had to focus harder in the task in hand and not let the Force have that sort of effect in him.

Then, from his right side, he felt the quick passing of a presence, no voice, no sound of running, just a passing presence – he stayed still, looking around him with his blue eyes, ready in anticipation of the presence returning.

And sure enough, it did. He felt it on his left side, then behind him and finally at his front, where it stayed beaming through the atmosphere as if beckoning him closer.

Igniting his lightsaber, Obi-Wan uses its light to guide him through the bushes and hung plants that fell in front of his face. The energy growing stronger with each step he carefully took forward until a faint red gleam starting to show through the thick mist.

The closer he got, the easier it was to make up a shape ahead of him, a human one. A cloak draped over your head and shoulders cast a shadow over your features that prevented him from making out the face of the person that he was about to oppose. They had dark leather knee-high boots with absolutely no scratches, a clear indicator that no one had managed to strike them there, what was normally the part most people forgot to protect – they were experienced.

“I must say, your reputation precedes you.” He shouts over so that his voice can cross the safety distance between the both of them. The Sith remains stoic, in a wide leg stance facing the Jedi General, no answer to be heard.

“You’ve killed plenty of Jedi Masters, on your own. I have to say, I’m impressed.” He tries to make conversation with the person in front of them in hopes of at least hearing their voice but they are giving him nothing, so he steps closer, slowly, gripping his lightsaber tighter.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yours-“ he doesn’t even finish the sentence as the Sith raises their arms and brings it down almost striking Obi-Wan weren’t it for his fast reflexes. The blades clash and sparks fly between them and the Sith forces their path forward continuously attempting to strike his upper body. He deviates every hit quickly as he keeps stepping back.

The clashes and sparks that fly let some light reach the Sith’s face but it’s still not enough to see their faces completely.

Then, Obi-Wan quickly charges forward at the Sith, but they beat him to the punch and block his swing towards their neck. The Sith shoved him off and backed away from him, keeping their defence up, waiting for Obi-Wan to make the next move. He swings at the Sith’s torso, but their attack is quickly deflected it and he is shoved back once more.

He goes in on the Sith once more, rotating the lightsaber behind his back before going in for their right side, an attack that always proved itself to be efficient as the swing was unexpected most of the time but he is beyond shocked as his torso is struck on his left side just as his blade swings over his head.

He lets out a grunt of pain, stumbling back, looking up at the Sith with wide eyes.

It can’t be. Only 3 people, besides himself, are familiar with this move.

It can’t be.

Looking down at the blood that gushes trails out of his wound he forces a two handgrip of the handle of his lightsaber before charging ahead at the Sith. They mimic their actions, weapons gripped on opposites side as they clash forward and stay there, trying to push the other away, and that’s when he sees it.

The light irradiating from the contact of the blades irradiates the Sith’s face from below the cloak’s hood and weren’t it for his rational mind and the possibility of dying then and there, Obi-Wan would’ve dropped the lightsaber to the floor.

“Y/N.” He whispers, looking you in the eyes through the blades. He is angry, any softness in his face and heart gone and instead replaced by the rage of knowing that you, of all people, a Jedi yourself would’ve done all this.

Pushes you back with more force than you were expecting and you fall back into the floor, hood leaving your head and revealing you in all of your glory.

Obi-Wan looks down at you, blade at your throat, illuminating your features. Your face was thinner, sharper than before, eyes darker and heavier on their sockets. Not that you’d lost weight but rather as if the life and brightness that you once sported had been drained out of you, leaving you a shell of what you once were.

“I knew they’d send you, eventually.” You hiss up at him, face challenging, breathing heavily “They were running out of Masters, it was only a matter of time before they sent the almighty General.”

“What the hell do you want?” he asks desperately down at you. His heart aching at the situation.

“What I want, General Kenobi… is to end the Jedis. Starting with you.” With a swift movement, you strike your lightsaber up and jump to your feet, delivering blow after blow to the Jedi’s blade.

“There is no reason for you to do this Y/N.” he speaks between clashes.

“NO REASON?” You shout over your own attack “You Jedis sent me to die away from your precious temple!”

“We didn’t send you to die, it was what was necessary.” your blade stops a blow of Obi-Wan’s coming from above.

“Necessary?” you push him away with brutal force. “How fucking dare you?”

That notion of his, that it was a necessary measure to send you away with not even a goodbye and rather a cold shoulder struck a nerve in you, raising your hand and flicking it at Obi-Wan, his lightsaber flying from his hand and before he even has time to react your raise your hand and the Force pins him to the tree right behind him.

He is struggling to breathe and holds his throat as a way to try and alleviate some kind of pressure. You weren’t this powerful the last time he saw you. Sure you were a magnificent Jedi Master, one of the best, but your use of the force had grown stronger and sharper – deadlier.

Your voice is coarse, bubbling with rage, and your hand unmovable as you step towards him.

“Have you ever been in an exile pod? Have you ever been throw to the ends of the galaxy with no means to ever get back? I reached out to the Sith Order where I landed. They gave me everything the Jedis couldn’t. They made me stronger, and they aren’t blinded by a code as ridiculous as the one of the Jedis.”

“They made you deadlier.” He mutters

“Is that supposed to be a bad thing? The Jedi Order spent their time limiting our abilities. No emotion, no passion, no chaos, no death? That’s bullshit.”

“Y/N…” Your rage rises as you speak and your grip on his throat grows tighter, the Force shrinking his airways.

“How many creatures have you killed General Kenobi?” you snap at him, your hair rustling with the movement “In all of your years as a Jedi, how many creatures have you killed? Because my guess is pretty fucking high.”

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer, rather averting your daring gaze.

“Jedis are just Siths with a God complex, and it was only a matter of time before I realized it.”

With a sudden movement of his legs, Obi-Wan kicks you in your stomach, sending you tumbling back and the grip on his throat dissolves away. In a split second, you both reach for your lightsabers and stand in a fighting stance in front of each other, just a few feet away.

“Don’t make me kill you.” He grunts, looking you in the eye.

“You’ll die trying.”

You charge at him, swinging with all your might hoping to hit him in all the places that hurt the most, despite a silver of love for him still remaining in your subconscious, holding you back from delivering the ultimate blow just yet.

One of your swings was unsuccessful and Obi-Wan ends up delivering a deep cut in your shoulder, lightsaber falling down on the mud. On the following second, he moved and cut you in your calf, right through the leather, making you collapse to the ground in pain. 

It’s his turn to raise his hand in the direction of your body, holding you still to the ground, the bright blue blade of his weapon disappearing, remaining only the handle.

With his steady hand, he gets close to you, kneeling one knee close to your body.

“I did love you, you know.” he huffed out, his injury and the tiredness that the fight had caused weighing down on him.

Below his hand, you were still trying to fight his hold, unsuccessful as the strength that you are trying to conjure rather turns into pain once it contracts your injured muscles and you wince in pain.

“I was supposed to tell you that morning but then we got called in and you know what happened. It wasn’t right to say it back.”

“Always following the fucking Code.” You throw your head back the pain starting to be too much. You couldn’t be bothered with this soft talk right now. Maybe once you did, maybe once you yearned for it. But that you died a year ago.

“You were such an amazing girl.” His free knuckle brushed a stray hair out of your forehead, tainted with sweat. “Y/N, come back. Remember who you were.”

“A Jedi puppet, that’s who I was. I’m free now and I will take down every single one of you, you can’t stop me.” Your growl at him, face hard and challenging despite the pain that you hid behind your eyes.

“Don’t make me kill you.” He bites down his lip and you swear you saw a tear glisten at the corner of his eyes “Please.”

“It’s only a matter of time before the Republic falls, General Kenobi.”

“You leave me no choice.” Trying to keep the hold of his strong facade, Obi-Wans shaky breathing betrayed him as it exited his body when he reached for the handle of his lightsaber and pressed it against your stomach, but he hesitates.

“Do it, you coward.” You mutter, a sentence that could be confused for a plea by the way it was said.

“I will…” he takes a dry gulp, fearing his next action and the ultimate consequence he knows it’ll bring. “do what I must.”

And then, in that moment, the blade in his lightsaber ignites, trespassing you from how close it was to your stomach, practically pressed against you, delivering you a quick and painless death, the one act of love Obi-Wan could possibly carry out at that moment.

Your soul left your body not with a scream but with a slow breath, your frame relaxing beneath him, your eyes falling lifeless. Finally falling to both of his knees, all the pent of emotions of this encounter and the pain that he had lived with since the day you were sent to exile come rushing up and he succumbs to the tears that he was trying to hold back.

Silently sobbing, he gently pulls your head on top of his knees, gently stroking your wet cheeks and the face that he once adored so much, now forever cold under his touch. Leaning down, a few stray strands of hair falling from his head, Obi-Wan closes his eyes as he lays a long and warm kiss on your forehead, before his own connecting with yours.

And there he laid for a few hours, holding the only person who ever managed to come the closest to his heart now dead in his arms having destroyed herself and the people he owed his life too.

A broken Pietá, that could make any romantic weep, had they known their story.

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[literallymechanical]

Well, are you going to fill us in on "why we are morally obligated as a species to some day blow up the Earth"? Sounds like a supervillain backstory

(This was originally inspired by qntm’s fantastic satirical essay, “To Destroy The Earth,” but I disagree with him on a few key points. I highly recommend checking out qntm’s fiction, particularly Ra, Fine Structure, and There Is No Antimemetics Division. Disclaimer: this is a thought experiment, I’m not actually going to destroy the Earth.)

Let us begin with this: you want to destroy the Earth.

That’s not a question or an instruction, that’s an axiom. A fundamental truth from which a logical system is built. It’s your Statement Zero, the singular concept from which the rest of these instructions are built: you want to destroy the Earth. You might not know why, and you certainly don’t know how. Trust me, you really don’t know how. Take all of your cultural knowledge of Death Stars and hyperspace construction crews and throw it out the window, because it’s not worth a clipped penny.

That being said, here are a few reasons to somebody might want to destroy the Earth:

You want to wipe out humanity

You want to wipe out some other species

General misanthropy

It’s obstructing your view of the Moon.

You want us to colonize Mars or Venus, and you figure this is the best way to get everybody on board.

These are bad reasons to destroy the Earth. If any of these sentiments resonate with you, please stop reading this essay. This isn’t for you.

Anyway, let's put a pin in the “why” for now. We'll get to it later. Let's tackle the "how" first.

To destroy the Earth, you need a Plan, with a capital P.

The shape of the Plan is extremely simple to define, much simpler than the relatively detailed (and, in my opinion, fragile) instructions others have outlined. It has just two parts.

Figure out how to destroy the Earth. This is defined as the Earth not being there when you're done—any chump with nuclear weapons can scour the Earth, you're trying to make the entire thing go away.

Destroy the Earth.

However, a lot of shapes are simple to define, but hard to draw. The Mandelbrot set can be defined by a single equation and a couple of instructions, but the result is a fractal. This Plan will be fractally intricate as well. We certainly can’t draw up the full Plan right now. We can barely even begin to draw the outline. Let’s take a quick stab at it anyway.

First of all, I don’t know how to destroy the Earth. We can speculate a bit, but we certainly can’t choose a method yet—you'll likely need multiple redundant strategies anyway. “Blow it up” is one idea, but the gravitational binding energy of the Earth is about 2*10^32 joules, and there is no conceivable technology that can handle that sort of power right now. “Launch bits of it into space one by one until there’s nothing left” sounds promising, though it will take a while. “Mess with its orbit until it’s close enough to the Sun’s Roche limit to get ripped to shreds” is a fun idea. Or maybe in the next million years, you'll come up with a better way.

The most important part of that statement is “the next million years.” It will take a very long time to figure this one out. A million years is a pretty good estimate, though if you'll proactive it might take as little as a couple hundred thousand.

That brings us to the hardest part of the Plan: making sure the Plan survives a million years.

Right now, you're in a precarious position. Climate change probably won’t entirely wipe us out, but it will likely disrupt civilization enough that the Plan will be lost. Nuclear war might actually cause us to go extinct. A killer asteroid certainly would. Therefore, the first thing the Plan needs to do is save the world. Reverse climate change, or at least halt it. Nuclear disarmament. Peace, or as close as we can get to it. Medicine, spaceflight, art, prosperity, happiness, survival—all part of the Plan.

Colonizing other planets, and eventually other solar systems, is also in the Plan. Not just for a backup in case of killer meteor, but also because when you do destroy the Earth, you’ll need somewhere to stand. Remember, you're not trying to wipe out humanity here! Just destroy a planet. This will be tricky. It’s very likely that there’s no such thing as faster-than-light travel, so it will take a while to spread across the galaxy. This might take up the bulk of the million-year timeline.

(Quick note: you may be tempted to conquer the Earth, or set yourself up as some sort of galaxy-spanning God-Ruler. In my personal opinion, this is a bad idea. Right now, empires typically last a couple hundred years before falling. Do you think it would be easier to hold on to multiple planets than just a bit of land around the Mediterranean? I believe that it’s best to have your Plan set up a system where people can survive and thrive without needing you.)

But as tricky as interstellar colonization may be, it’s still the easy part. The hard part is that the entire Plan has to reconstruct itself from scratch if everything goes wrong.

The Plan has to be the most massively redundant, self-repairing, and robust project humanity has ever undertaken, or will ever undertake. The Plan needs to be able to resurrect our entire species on its own, without human intervention, in case something goes wrong (e.g. nuclear war) and we all get wiped out. Here’s one idea: computerize the Humanity Reboot Protocol, stamp the code onto platinum bricks, launch a million copies into deep space and onto every rocky body in the solar system, and have it check back in every once in a while. You can have that one for free.

The Plan also needs to have a way to re-motivate humanity to destroy the Earth. Maybe that’s as simple as posting it to tumblr and having a lot of people read it, but it will probably be a bit more complicated. Crucially, the Plan does not have to be visible. Nobody actually needs to know that the Plan exists, if you’re clever enough. You might be tempted to turn it into a religion, but religions change and die. Remember: the Plan has to eventually pop off, no matter what we do to ourselves.

The Plan is now its own entity, both distinct from and deeply intertwined with humanity.

(As a side note, this begs the question: What if the Plan is already in effect? If it’s a good Plan, we wouldn’t be able to tell. What if some sufficiently motivated creature set things into motion ten thousand or a hundred thousand or a million years ago? Food for thought.)

Alright. So, enough time has passed, and you’ve figured out how to destroy the Earth. I use “you” loosely at this point. Maybe, against all odds, you’ve figured out immortality, or mind-uploading, cloning, whatever. More likely, you’ve been dust for a million years. That’s not important. Regardless, “you” are standing on Mars or wherever and your metaphorical finger is hovering a metaphorical big red button marked “DESTROY THE EARTH.” Step 2 of the Plan.

Let’s pause here and go back to that pin from before: Why? Why are you destroying the Earth?

Well, a lot of reasons. If I were doing this, my Plan would include abandoning the Earth for other star systems and setting it up as some sort of museum. I'd take all the biosphere with me, of course, and make better Earths elsewhere. Imagine a hundred Earths, each of which are perfect nature preserves, or more! Imagine finding a good silica-heavy planet, turning it into molten glass, and sculpting it into something beautiful. Imagine spelling your name in an Oort cloud. Imagine an ocean planet full of whales.

Imagine coming back to a deserted G-type solar system with a few dusty rocks, an asteroid belt, and a handful of gas giants. Imagine breaking them down to make raw materials for a Dyson sphere.

Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe a paleontologist somewhere will figure out that this might be the planet where we first evolved, and it would be nice to put it somewhere safe. Hey, does that count as destroying the Earth? Where the Earth once was, there is now empty space. No more Earth! That sounds pretty destroyed to me. Bam! Earth destroyed! You did it!

Maybe your Plan is different, and the Earth is still inhabited. For what it’s worth, I hope you’ve made it a paradise, one of a thousand Edens across the galaxy. It would be a shame to blow it up… but if Sol-3 is just one paradise among many, what makes it significant? “Earth” is our homeworld, but now there are a thousand homeworlds, so what is “Earth?” What makes this one rock special? Nothing! You’ve successfully destroyed the entire concept of “Earth.” That might be harder than blowing up a planet! Well done! You did it!

In conclusion, here is why I say it’s a moral imperative to destroy the Earth:

Eventually, a baby bird has to leave the nest. Somebody needs to be the mom bird who lures her chicks off the edge, and it might as well be me.

[theoceanspanwaves]

Wannabe Challenge Headcanons (First Time--Biho)

Back again to write out how I see MC’s first time with each of the Wannabe Challenge guys would go. In these headcanons, they’ve already established themselves as a couple (either secretly or publicly) and kissed and what not, but no further.

FIRST TIME (MC x Biho)

- Biho is a little like Taehee in that your first time is gonna happen somewhere very relaxing and magical, like a lovely little bed and breakfast near the ocean

- Biho is not like Taehee in that he was not planning to bang the holy heck out of you on this trip. he’s just a cinnamon roll that wanted you to have a nice weekend

- don’t get him wrong though; he’s not mad it ends up the way it does. he just didn’t expect it

- Biho has never pressured you or even probed the boundaries of your comfort zone as far as physical intimacy goes. tbh if you never had sex and he spent the rest of his life watching you read books and holding your hand he’d be fine with it 

- you are not fine with that, however. how could you be? come on. 

- you’ve never wanted to see someone come undone as much as you want to see Biho 

- he brings you to a charming little B&B on the coast for your birthday and it’s amazing. this boy knows what you like and he has moved heaven and hell to make things as good as if you’d written out a wish list

- he got you two rooms because of course he did; he’s a goddamn gentleman

- fuck that

- you lure him into your room the second night with the promise of snacks and the latest episode of Blue Planet. You have snacks and the show, of course, but you also have a naughty little lingerie set you bought a week before your trip

- halfway through an episode about tuna migration patterns you slip into the loo and strip; the lingerie is a soft little cream-colored confection with tiny puff balls on the end of the string ties

- you watch his face when you step into view and it does. not. disappoint

- you’re used to a myriad of subtle emotions on his face--worry, joy, disappointment, a sort of long-suffering when you touch Yooha, Taehee, or Hansol

- his emotions are a mystery to anyone who doesn’t know him, but you have learned to look at them the way an artist looks at shades of blue; each one is a beacon, a story

- so when his face stays neutral at the sight of your skimpy apparel, you are undaunted; you see the darkening of his eyes, the way his pupils dilate, the way his adam’s apple bobs just a bit as he swallows instinctively

- he’s turned on. but more than anything, he’s wondering what game you’re playing and what you want

- you want him. the end

- he’s not going to so much as look at you impurely you until you make it undeniably clear what you are after

- so you make it undeniably clear

- the TV and its scenes of swirling fish are forgotten as you very, very carefully lower yourself onto his lap. his consent is important, too, and you watch for any signs of hesitation as you approach

- Kang Biho, you say. Kang Biho. I picked these clothes out...just for you

- Biho’s weakness is being singled out as the one, special, only object of your affections

- his hands float up to touch the softness of your waist, and they tremble

- you lean forward, nestling your nose into his red hair and speaking into his ear: Kang Biho. I want you, and only you, to have all of me

- well shit, that’s all you had to say

- he reaches up, sets aside his glasses, gently grasps your wrist, and flips you so you’re under his warm, gentle weight

- his face is like nothing you’ve ever seen; there’s a bottomless hunger in his eyes that sends a tingle all the way to your core

- once he has assurance that you and he want the same thing, he’s unquenchable. the stillest waters run the deepest, after all

- his hands search every inch of your skin; his lips worship a course from your neck to your breasts and stomach and back up

- you brought the protection, of course; he wouldn’t dare to presume

- he’s wonderfully expressive as you make love; this usually silent boy moans and whispers words of adoration with every thrust

- he ensures you finish first, but he’s not far behind

- there’s cuddling galore and the most tender of aftercare

- the relationship between you deepens after this weekend, and Biho becomes a little more possessive. he’s always been concerned with your happiness and a little jealous of your time, but now he openly stops Yooha from touching you and Hansol from clinging

- Biho hasn’t had many things in his life to call his own, but you...he never wants to let you go and he has no intentions of giving you over to anyone. after all, he’s the only one he trusts to take proper care of you

- he won’t visit you at night unless invited

- you come up with a secret code that you text him when you are up for a nighttime visitor

- he pretends to be dozing off when Hansol questions him about where he goes every night

- when Hansol continues to push, he just starts putting him to sleep at a certain time

- you and Biho cuddle uninterrupted in each other’s arms, Hansol becomes more well-rested than he’s ever been

- it’s a win for everyone

[stylesnews]

The extravagant wardrobes of the old English middle classes are a far-flung fantasy for Steven Stokey-Daley. Still, it’s the codes of this very clothing that the Liverpool-born designer, who just graduated from University of Westminster’s Fashion (BA), explores and queers. Think crocheted boating hats, linen shirts that resemble tablecloths and billowing wide-legged trousers in corduroys and floral patterns. They seem tailor-made for an even more queer take on James Ivory’s gay love story, Maurice. Harry Styles, it seems, loves them too.

Steven has spent the past seven months of locked-down life working on his eponymous young brand, S.S.DALEY. Things were going well for him, items on his webstore sold out -- and then Harry Styles appeared on the cover of his new single “Golden”, clothesless, save for a rain hat and a pair of Steven’s ‘Sebastian’ trousers. Things, subsequently, went mental.

This week has seen the video for the song drop too. In it, courtesy of the fine curatorial eye of stylist Harry Lambert, Harry S wears pretty much one big, sexy, loose-fitting sartorial piece for the duration of the video: an S.S.DALEY ‘Hall’ Tennant shirt.

These pieces are lifted from his AW20 graduate collection “The Inalienable Right”, which explores homosociality, portrayals of public school boys, and all of the frivolity that entails. Just when you think that designs that feel effusively British are a shallow well that has been drained dry, here is Steven Stokey-Daley: a lad twisting those references into something that pays homage to pretty while still scrutinising and reinventing its roots.

Here, just hours after the world came to know his name, i-D spoke to Steven about his time at University of Westminster, launching his eponymous brand and what it’s like to work with the sexiest pop star on the planet.

You graduated from the University of Westminster's BA Fashion course this year. What did you spend that time exploring, thematically and design wise? I spent most of my time at Westminster experimenting with design. Making the most of fashion education is about being hands on, trying everything and not limiting yourself too soon. I had the pleasure of being taught by the wonderful Stephanie Cooper (now teaches at Central Saint Martins) who taught me everything I know about volume and silhouette. Over the years, I have explored class in the UK and how it's reflected in fashion. Coming from an ex-council estate in Liverpool and being gay, I didn’t truly resonate with the codes of dress I was surrounded by, so when I came to study in Harrow (Westminster campus) and see first-hand the merchant ivory realm of reality; I was completely enraptured. I studied theatre for years and I’m a member of the National Youth Theatre so there was something theatrical about seeing Eton regatta traditionalism for the first time; it was almost Brechtian in its alienation. This space I was enamoured by wasn’t meant for me and I think that’s what feels radical about it.

You’ve interned at Tom Ford and Alexander McQueen, as well as at fashion publications. Yet you came out of university and launched an eponymous brand. What did the experience of working under others teach you? I learned so much working for big brands; some brilliant experiences that helped hone my key skills. I feel like a traveller in that regard, picking up different things from different work experiences. McQueen menswear was a true delight and an experience I’ll value forever; I learned so much there that has allowed me to do what I’m doing now. I worked for publications, and I told everyone I knew they should do the same thing in order to understand the flipside of how the industry works. Working under people, respecting the chain of command from big brands to smaller ones also provided me with examples of how (and how not) to treat people you expect to work with successfully. When creating my AW20 collection, I had the most wonderful group of interns and found that creating a respectful and enjoyable work environment ensured the best team results. Thankfully, I think the 90s ‘killer fashion’ days are phasing out -- but there’s still some way to go!

What were the limitations for you, in terms of setting up your brand, and who did you turn to to help overcome them? Setting up my own brand sort of happened really naturally and organically. When Louis Rubi posted a photo in my AW20 floral trousers, I had so many requests for orders. This was the peak of lockdown and things felt bleak, but I decided to, one by one, try and fulfil the requests with the help of my boyfriend Leo who was locked down with me. (He never wants to see fabric scissors or sewing needles ever again). It progressed from there! Sarah Mower was a constant source of support during lockdown too. She really made it possible for me to actually consider making this a reality -- she does an awful lot to support students behind the scenes.

Your work leans towards the traditionalist and sartorial. Were you hoping to find something radical within that space? The traditionalist and sartorial references feel radical because they aren’t meant for me with my background. I also think there are micro-radicalisms within my approach to design, applying details of typically working class pieces (A Gannex coat, for example) to sartorial outerwear cut in a tattersall check, subverting the functionality of the elite codes of dress.

At what point did Harry Lambert reach out to you about Harry Styles? Was there a brief for this project in particular? Harry Lambert (a genius) is a huge supporter of students and small brands, and he did a call out for students via Instagram stories for an editorial. I hadn’t met him before but still I sent him my lookbook. He replied saying that it wasn’t right for the shoot, but he had something else coming up that it could work for: “a project with Harry Styles”. I couldn’t believe it. Both Harry Lambert and Harry Styles have been incredible in supporting my work.

Half a million people watched your work as the “Golden” video debuted on YouTube. Two days later it has 20 million views. Can you describe how that feels? Seeing the view count of the video, knowing that for the majority of it he is wearing the S.S.DALEY ‘Hall’ shirt the whole way through is just phenomenal. It’s utterly surreal.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “My human.”

You guys requested some more LFIL stuff, so I have brought it. Lots of Fluff, I hope. So please enjoy. Also based on a couple ideas given to me by the Discord server :)

“Where are we going.”

“You’ll see.”

“I feel like this is becoming our thing.”

“What?”

“Dragging the other to some sort of event and not saying literally anything about it beforehand.” Sunny hummed deep in her chest and Adam just rolled his eyes, looking around at the dark city awash with eternal night.

“Why Noctopolis of all the places. I mean we have a week off and you want to spend your vacation days in the literal dump of the galaxy?”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, “Please, you love it here. It's like any tradeworld from any sci-fi movie ever.”

That shut him up, and she could see the slow grin pass over his face.

Finally she shrugged, “Look, I just thought it would be nice to… go somewhere where we could relax, not have to worry about hiding.”

“I think there are a few nice beachfront planets we could have done that on.”

“Not with the tourism.” She shot back 

A gust of sour wind kicked up through the bustling night streets tugging at Adam’s jacket and rippling the blue of his shirt like ripples across a pond. He adjusted his eyepatch as she led him through a maze of back alleys and tall buildings.

They took a rickety lift down into the gorge where the ever-present red mist billowed and glowed below them in patterns that undulated and wired.

They stepped off into another shallow rift, and followed a narrow street down into another side alley, where Sunny stopped.

Trash and little bits of paper blew around them where they stood in front of a peeling red door.

Adam raised an eyebrow at Sunny, “Ah, beautiful. A lovely vacation spot, I would like to move here and retire.”

“Smartass.” She mumbled at him before knocking on the red door.

There was a long pause while they waited, Adam tapping his foot against concrete below before the door opened a crack and a single human eye peered out at them. The distant echo of music thudded up through the room echoing off the walls.

“What do you want?”

“I’m A friend of Adam.”

Adam frowned and raised an eyebrow as the door shut suddenly and there was a rattling on the other side as if a chain was being released.

He glanced at Sunny but she only shook her head.

The door opened, and a woman with short buzzed black hair stepped into the doorway, invisible tattoos glowing under the blacklight.

As her eyes fell on him, he watched as her eyebrows raised, single eyebrow stud glittering in the light, “You weren’t kidding. Then her stern face broke into a smile, “Come on in. Any ‘friend of Adam’s is a friend of mine’.”

Adam followed along behind Sunny as the music grew louder, “Is that a code for something…. Is this a code? I am very confused.”

He was a lot less confused a minute later when they stepped out into the main room, a large spacious area with multiple stories. A room off to one side had bright flashing lights, and emanated with the sound of drums. Then there was a bar and couches and pool tables and TVs.

It was less of a club or a bar and more like some sort of clubhouse. The bar seemed to be serving food. On the second floor there were more couches, and some rooms that led off into other rooms.

But what really gave it away was the people.

Aliens and humans.

Aliens and humans holding hands and often cuddled up together on the couches.

He shot Sunny a look.

She just shook her head at him, and together they walked over to the bar.

Just off to their side a human was busily and delicately helping a Finnari to put on some sort of dark shaded glasses.

“That better, hun?’

“Yeah…. Yeah, that's better.” the Finnari hugged the woman, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for>”

“I know you can change how warm you are, and I’m sorry I have to wear the glasses….”

She just laughed and kissed the top of his head.

Adam cleared his throat awkwardly and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

They made it to the bar before anyone recognized them.

“Admiral!” He winced and turned around running into a familiar face at the bar, a familiar green mohawk and a small blue finnari.

Adam frowned, “I thought you were living on the Tesraki homeworld now.”

“We lease an apartment there for business, but we prefer it here…. So tell me, what are you guys doing here.”

He glanced at Sunny, “That’s what I’d like to know.”

She took a seat, “Just relaxing. It is our vacation after all.

Mohawk eyed them a little as Adam sat down reluctantly.

“Drinks on the house then.”

Beside him, the little Finnari waddled over handing up a cup of cucumber juice for Sunny.

The man looked at Adam,”Pick your poison.”

Adam shrugged, “Something girly and brightly colored that tastes good. If I’m going to get drunk it better be worth it.”

Mohawk grinned and got to work.

Another couple wandered over to the bar talking and laughing sliding into seats next to Adam and Sunny.

The human recognized him instantly and grabbed his hand to shake, “Admiral, Vir. I can’t believe you’re here! I can’t believe I get to meet you…. I…. well me and Hasan.” He turned to look over his shoulder at the large, silver Drev sitting next to him, “We owe you so much, the entire community owes you so much.”

Adam blinked, “I…. Well I mean…. I only did what anyone would….”

The man shook his head and waved a hand at him, no no, only you could do what you did and only you DID what you could.”

Adam shrugged not entirely sure what to say before…. “May I…. ask you a question.”

“Anything.”

“Friend of Adam. What does that mean?”

The man waved his hand, “Oh, it’s just a little coad we have for someone who is LFIL, you know so that we don’t have to say it out loud to someone we aren’t sure about.”

“Oh, I see.” he glanced back at the silver Drev listening quietly from behind, “And i’m assuming you are some sort of Kung Fu master…. Dating a Drev and all.”

“Official battle partners , actually.”

Adam raised an eyebrow, “You mean you’ve challenged-”

“Challenged him to the right of unarmed combat. Yes I did. You sure know a lot about Drev culture.”

“You forget, I am Sentinel of a Drev clan, and I spent a couple months training with one of the clans on Anin.:

The man grinned, “But yes to answer your question. I am a…. Sort of well known here on Noctropolis…. MMA fighter, though I also dabble in the use of medieval weapons.”

“Adam only had a little trouble believing that this overly talkative man could probably kick him six ways to sunday, but it seemed strange with his strong but silent type Drev partner who seemed just happy to listen and sip at his juice.

The Bar tender came back with a pink smoothie that Adam was sure had so much rum in it he wasn’t going to be able to feel his legs tomorrow, but it tasted pretty good and it included a crazy straw, so he was happy enough.

The man he had just been speaking to grabbed him by the hand and dragged him to his feet, “Come on, you need to come meet the others, they will be so excited to see you.”

He was tugged to his feet and went only a little hesitantly.

Sunny fell back and began talking with the silver Drev rapid fire.

He was dragged across the open floor to where a group of them was sitting around a low table.

A woman in a nicely recessed suit was sitting with her chin on her hands staring intently at the board.

A few rolls of the dice, and the little black-furred Tesraki stood feet on the table and pointed at her, “HA I win, eat your heart out sweetheart.”

“Not fair, if you hadn’t put hotels on the boardwalk, i would OWN your furry ass.”

The Tesraki waggled his ears at her 

Adam couldn't help but bark out a laugh, “Are you playing monopoly…. Isn’t that dangerous to play if you want your relationship in tact?”

The Tesraki turned to look at him, walked across the table and then fell back into the arms of the wall dressed woman, looking rather smug as she wrapped her arms around him, “Not likely, human.” He patted the woman’s cheek, “my muse is one of the shrewdest business minds this side of the galaxy, and nothing is more attractive than pitting one financial mind against another.”

She stroked the fur on the top of his head.

Adam smiled but shook his head, looking around the room to where the others were staring at him.

He  leared his throat, “uh….hi…. Sorry to intrude we just….”

That is when the cheers started up and he was pulled into the group with the others. He shook a bunch of hands before things settled back down. 

A finnari and a human were curled up across the circle. 

Silver drev and his battle partner were holding hands just to their right, and Adam was feeling a little more than awkward sitting, back straight hands clasped politely before him like he was sitting at church.

“Forgive me for asking, Admiral. I know it might be a sensitive subject, but everyone here in the clubhouse know each other, and we…. Well we have been wondering for a while. Well, we know you are supportive of us, of course, but we wonder if maybe you have other…. Reasons.” They glanced at Sunny

He felt his neck turn red, and tried to cover it by pulling his jacket up.

He glanced at Sunny and she leaned in to speak to him, “I think you should tell them.”

HE frowned at her.

“Just hear me out before you shoot it down. “I know you're stressed trying to keep it secret, and these people have a code of conduct. They won’t tell anyone. I just think it would be good to get it off our chests for once to people who will finally understand.”

He could see her point of course, but still. He wasn’t sure. Just thinking about saying it oud-loud was causing his chest to tighten up a bit. He had been fighting to hide this for a while now, and it was sort of just habit.

The group stared at him.

Hopeful expressions almost. 

They were waiting for him.

But how was it that despite being with Sunny, he didn’t feel like one of them. The guilt was enough to galvanise him into action. He cleared his throat and sat up “well, not when I made the speech to the GA, no….”

They seemed to wilt.

“But,”

They all lifted their heads in anticipation, “I….. Sunny and I are….. Dating.”

The word fell from his lips like a led weight. His head felt suddenly light, and the room around them burst into sound and color as the group of them rose to their feet cheering. Someone slapped him on the back. 

He could barely hear.

“Feels good doesn’t it, to finally say something to people who understand. DRINKS FOR EVERYONE!”

The group was smiling and laughing, “Come on, you don’t have to hide here.:

“Hold her hand!”

“Yeah.”

He caved, even though his hand was shaky and slick with sweat.

More cheering 

He felt as if he was drunk, or drugged. As if he had stepped out of himself. Inside his stomach churned and swarmed with insects.

“Kiss her.” Someone else urged.

The group laughed, but took up the call. Blushing like red as a cherry he leaned up and gave her a quick kiss on the bheek before sitting back down.

Thanks for them, they sensed his nervousness and backed off.

Sunny hummed with pleasure.

He still felt lightheaded.

He could hear them talking but wasn’t sure what about.

Eventually Sunny got up with one of the other drev, and the two of them stepped over to a circle on the floor to have a friendly contest with spears.

Adam was left alone.

The partner of the Drev Sunny was fighting came to sit next to him looking over at the circle, “Pretty amazing aren't they….. Beautiful.”

He nodded lethargically before, “Can I…. make a confession?”

The group was interested and leaned in, he felt their eyes on him. He rubbed the back of his neck, “I… I really do…. Thank you all for… the encouragement but…. well . I have to admit that I….I’ve never really…. Felt like one of you.”

They seemed surprised but were interested to listen.

“What do you mean?”

“I…. well…. This is going to sound strange, but I’m not….. Actually…. Attracted to aliens.”

They stared at him confused.

He sighed and shook his head, “It's… complicated.”

“We’re listening.”

“I…. it's not the fact that she’s a Drev….. I would love Sunny if she were a Tesraki, or a Finnari, or a human. I’m not attracted to Drev as a hole, but Sunny….just Sunny. That’s it she’s the only one.”

There was silence for a moment, and for a second he thought he had offended them, but then.

“Aww, that’s so sweet.”

“I understand.”

“Yeah I can see that, but either way you are more than welcome here.”

He was surprised, and after that little exchange, he relaxed a little and smiled, taking a sip of his pink smoothie using his crazy straw.

Sunny was right, it did feel a little better to get off his chest.

And for Sunny, things felt better as well. Finally she had someone she could share with about humans. At one point the aliens and humans split off into groups, the humans living on nostalgic childhood games meant to cause pain.

Sunny sat with the others.

“And the mood swings with humans.” Someone was saying.

“Tell me about it. They go from angry to cuddly to horny in about two seconds flat.”

Sunny snorted, “Can’t say I’ve seen the last one, but the first two, yeah it's a bit of a roller coaster. No wonder they’re always exhausted.”

“Really, you’ve never seen the third one.”

“Adam is a bit…. Shy I think, It’ll probably take him a while.”

“Well you are in for a surprise when he does. Humans are a bit insane.”

One of the Drev huffed, “That’s a good thing I’d say.”

The group laughed and then, “Ok but does anyone else’s human get angry when they are hungry?”

A chorus of yesses.

Sunny sighed, “Oh yes, when your human is 6,2 and 210 lbs and often forgets to eat because he’s so busy. It is a common occurrence. Then he will try to argue with me when I go to feed him that he doesn't have time and he's stressed, and I tell him that he will feel better when he eats, but NO I’m the crazy one.”

One of the Tesraki smiled, “I find there are a few ways to remedy this. Number one, is that I have stashed snacks in all the vehicles and locations that we own. Barring that, I make it a habit to hide currency in her pockets so when she randomly finds a credit it makes her day. She doesn’t know I do this.”

Sunny smiled, “I have a friend who is a doctor, and he once made me read a paper about a human scientist Pavlov, who talked about conditioning, that if you associate certain stimuli with others you can cause a specific reaction. So I make sure to play this one very specific song when we spend time together or cuddle or something, so when he’s stressed  I discreetly turn it on,and either he relaxes or he comes to me for comfort.”

The group ohed at her genius and she felt rather smug.

That was until loud laughter rang out across the room, and the group of them turned to see humans standing on the bar… or specifically one human standing on the bar dancing stupidly.

She sighed, “yep, that one is mine.”

It was good to see him loosen up at little though and he was more than happy to be dragged around by her. She even forced him to come dance with her, and some of the others joined in. Flashing lights and bodies pressed tight together in a semi darkness. Aliens and humans.

All that while the humans were slowly getting drunker.

Thought that all lead to an impromptu karaoke session with most of the humans singing horrible off tune in their drunken state.

Interesting how humans could suddenly become so bad at speaking when drunk.

Adam did pretty well though for someone who got dared to sing Burning Love, which he did pretty well despite sounding absolutely nothing like Elvis -- though to be honest, Sunny wasn’t a big fan of Elvis anyway and preferred Adam’s version. But that might also have been for the eye contact he held with her on occasion, allowing her to think maybe the song was for her.

A fact that made her secretly very happy.

Adam got more socially confident when he was drunk.

It seemed odd to her that he could be such an extroverted person who was very charismatic some times, but in other situations he could barely string two words together.

Either way, looking around at other people’s humans she couldn't help but be a bit smug. Yeah sure their humans were fit, but her human was the best. In her opinion, he had the brightest UV stripes, the prettiest eyes, and the nicest smile. Not to mention that she would bet money he could win in a fight against the other humans . 

Unbeknownst to her, a similar conversation was happening across the room with the humans, accept it was out loud.

“I mean she’s fine, my boy is the best.”

Adam snorted, “Please, gold eyes and carapace the color of blue lightning. You can’t compete.”

“Mine is taller..”

“Mine is more huggable. The perfect height ratio, but have fun bringing a step stool around with you.”

“Don’t need one when he can pick me up.”

“She can pick me up too, so your point is irrelevant.”

He leaned back against the table, his voice slightly slurred as he stared across the room at her, where she was standing, demonstrating some sort of spear move to one of the other Drev.

His voice grew serious, “No woman, no Drev, no alien can compete with the sheer power, and grace. She is a phenomenal warrior, loyal…. Everything that is perfect.”

There was a pause, and then they all burst into a fit of drunken giggling.

By the end of the night most of the humans were passed out, or close to it. And the sober aliens walked over to collect their fallen human from the scattered bodies.

Someone ave Sunny a key, “Rooms upstairs.”

She nodded and thanked the bartender as she reached down and hoisted Adam up with her lower arms under his. He was probably going to have an intense hangover tomorrow, but now he looked rather peaceful in his sleep.

She waved at the other Drev doing the same thing to their humans. Occasionally helping one of the FInnari or Tesraki with a human that was too heavy.

She went upstairs and flopped him down on a bed. He didn’t wake up, but smiled in his sleep. She crawled up to lay next to him. She was glad that he had been able to relax. She had hoped finally admitting it to someone would help.

To be fair, she needed it too.

More than most could know.

[scintillating-galaxias]

simpatico week day 4 - multiverse

MTMTE and cyberverse perceptor and brainstorm collide!! @simpaticoweek​ read it here on ao3!

-

Brainstorm gasped and grabbed Perceptor’s arm while pointing at mech with a familiar red, white, and blue color scheme standing amongst the curious crowd. “Perce, look!”

Perceptor looked around, alarmed. “What? What is it?”

“Next to the red mech with the white face! It’s you!”

Before Perceptor could stop him, Brainstorm hurried off towards the mech. This mech had the same white dials on his forearms, and even the same cylindrical, white scope mounted on his shoulder—a dead-ringer for an alternate-universe Perceptor. i

“Excuse me!” Brainstorm called. The mech turned around, and whoa, he wasn’t expecting the burnt-out optics. “Uh. Hello. You’re Perceptor, right?”

“I am,” said the mech. He didn’t have the same slight accent as Percy did; his voice was flatter, a bit more neutral. The scope on his shoulder lit up, shining a bright blue light on Brainstorm’s face. Definitely, a scanner of some sort, though it left a bizarre, faintly prickly sensation across Brainstorm’s plating he didn’t usually get when Ratchet or First Aid scanned him. “I don’t recognize you. I’m assuming you’re one of our visitors from the alternate universe?”

“Name’s Brainstorm, resident genius of the universe next door. How are you seeing me right now? Is it something with your scope?”

“Correct. I reformatted my scope to operate as a visual feed after I blew out my optics.”

Guess that was a universal concept, Perceptor’s redesigning or changing their scopes for some entirely different use than their original one. “You did? What happened?”

“It’s not any of your business to ask that,” he chided.

Brainstorm put up his servos apologetically. Then, realizing his error, said, “Sorry,” after a second.

The other Perceptor gave him a look of pointed disapproval so similar to his Perceptor’s, he was almost afraid he was about to start getting chewed out for his messy labeling jobs.

“Be more mindful of your questions next time,” the other Perceptor said instead. “As for your other inquiry: I could tell you made a motion in front of your chest with your hands, and you did something else just now, but details such as color and specific body parts such as your digits are lost to me when my scope is inactive.”

“Fascinating,” said a familiar voice. Perceptor, his Percy, had finally made it through the crowd and over to them. Brainstorm felt his spark lift a bit higher in its chamber as Perceptor came to a stop beside him, servo almost unconsciously winding itself into his.

The scope went on again. “You’re… Me, I presume?” the other Perceptor asked, interest coloring his voice.

“I am Perceptor, yes.”

“Fascinating,” said the other Perceptor, and Brainstorm laughed.

“Primus, you two really are the same mech.”

“Of course,” they said in tandem, and then they looked at each other. Brainstorm poorly stifled another laugh.

“Your scope,” Perceptor prompted. “You scanned Brainstorm and I and compared the information it collected to a pre-existing database before confirming you didn’t know who we were. I can only assume you made code-based modifications to it?”

“That is correct.”

“May I ask what kind of modifications? My scope gives me enhanced magnification, but nothing to that extent, so you’ll have to forgive my curiosity.”

Other-Perceptor, who had now earned the prefix ‘Other’ in Brainstorm’s processor because otherwise, it would be a nightmare to try and recount later, cleared his throat. “When in use, it can collect information such as the light values and assign them to colors using a code assigned to every paint color on record, and how the percentage of much of each color is present within the whole subject.” He didn’t gesture nearly as much as Perceptor, either, Brainstorm noted. So far, he was turning out to be far more reserved than his Perceptor. Or... No, he reminded Brainstorm of when he’d first met Perceptor on the Lost Light. Heh. Maybe he’d had an influence on his conjunx after all. “That allows me to tell apart primary, secondary, and tertiary colors, so even if two mechs have similar paint colors, the chances they have the same frame and paint jobs are extremely slim. Decals like those on Hot Rod aren’t so easily discernible. That allows me to match the color codes to virtually any mech in my database. It isn’t the most accurate system, but it is precise enough.”

“That is remarkable,” Perceptor said, reaching up to touch his own scope. “I’ve reformatted myself before, but not to that sort of extent. Have you made any other modifications?”

“Numerous, since the threat of the Quintesson’s and Megatron X were eliminated.”

“Megatron X?”

Brainstorm tuned them out as they traded stories and statistics, looking around the crowd for some mech that could possibly be him. He could see Whirl with his arm slung around another blue, singled-opticked helicopter. Both were laughing rapturously about something. In the next cycle of Brainstorm’s code, they were wrestling each other to the ground. Rodimus was excitedly chatting it up with Hot Rod, who had enthusiastically introduced himself the second the Lost Light crew had stepped out of the portal. Beside Hot Rod was Soundwave of all mechs, and even more bizarrely, he seemed to have his servo loosely held around Hot Rod’s waist. Brainstorm only lingered on it a little bit. He wasn’t one for gossip, but even he knew that was going to be the talk of the ship later. Nearby, Drift was looking spectacularly sulky, though a cheery yellow mech was making valiant attempts at cheering him up. And of course, Megatron was talking to Other-Megatron and Other-Optimus Prime, and seemed to be rather wistfully staring at the two’s shared proximity to each other.

All in all, it felt like a very successful experiment in Brainstorm’s spark. All these mechs had somehow found their alternate selves, even though there’d been no guarantee they would even exist in this universe. And still, more mechs Brainstorm didn’t even recognize who were intermingling with the Lost Light crew. Successful experiment indeed. Except for one, tiny detail.

“Where am I?” he asked, interrupting the Perceptor’s conversation. “I mean, everyone else has a double. Where’s the other me?”

Other-Perceptor tilted his head. “I don’t know. There is no record of a Brainstorm in the Autobot databases.”

“Oh.” Brainstorm tapped his pede while Perceptor lightly squeezed his servo. “What about a Genitus?”

“One moment.” Other-Perceptor’s scope dipped down slightly. Then, after a moment, it straightened back out, and he looked at Brainstorm. “There’s no record of a Genitus, either.”

“Huh.” Damn. He really hoped alternate-Brainstorm wasn’t dead. That would suck. Or maybe he had a different paint job than Brainstorm did. Other-Perceptor had said his database was based on color. Or maybe… “I was a Decepticon for a bit in my universe,” he offered. Other-Perceptor offered no reaction to this fact except for a minute twitch of his scope. “Maybe this one still is.”

“If you wish to search the Decepticon databases, I would ask Soundwave. He and Hot Rod have been in charge of integrating the two sides since the defeat of Megatron X, and though there is still much to work to be done, he is likely your best chance.”

A brilliant idea lit up Brainstorm’s face. “You should come with us!” he said, optics sparkling. “I’m great! I’m sure you’d have a blast with this universe’s Stormy.”

“I’m not sure that’s—”

“Naw, come on, it’ll be fun.”

“I wouldn’t resist him,” Perceptor advised. “He can be extremely persistent.”

Other-Perceptor sighed with a tired acceptance. “Alright, then. Let us go.”

Brainstorm whirled around on his heel and happily marched right through the crowd, cheerfully announcing, “Coming through!” approximately half a second before barrelling through a conversation. He made it through the crowd in record time and stopped promptly before Hot Rod, Soundwave, and Rodimus. All three of them immediately turn towards them, though their interest is evidently in the two Perceptor’s and not the incredibly antsy jet.

“What do you want?” rumbled Soundwave. Jeez. Did he always sound that menacing?

“Be nice,” Hot Rod scolded. “You know these guys. Perceptor, Perceptor two, and… who’re you?”

“That’s Brainstorm,” answered Rodimus over Brainstorm’s affronted noise. “He and Perceptor were the ones who figured out the whole… universe swap magic.”

“Time travel, alternate universe traveling. Twice, I might add,” Brainstorm said, primly turning over his servo as he looked down at his digits with extreme satisfaction. “No biggie.”

Rodimus rolled his optics. “Toot your own horn later,” he complained. “We get it. You’re smart. Primus knows you don’t let us forget it. Now, why’d you come over here?”

“To ask him something,” Brainstorm said, angling his wing at Soundwave, who stiffened. “I want him to look up this universe’s version of me. Your Perceptor couldn’t find me in the Autobot databases and recommended we check the Decepticon ones.”

“I dunno,” said Hot Rod, looking Brainstorm up and down with a doubtful frown. “I’ve met a lot of mechs, and I’ve never seen anyone like him…”

“You weren’t ever a Decepticon,” said Soundwave. “I am.” Rodimus, Perceptor, and Brainstorm all shared a look, but Hot Rod either didn’t care about or didn’t notice the tense. “I recognize the name. Megatron banished the Decepticon scientist Brainstorm to an off-planet site early in the war because his experiments potentially posed a greater threat to Cybertron than anything else at the time. We have not been in contact with him since.”

Brainstorm pouted. “‘Potentially posed?’ You didn’t even let me stick around to find out? Where’s the fun in that?”

Soundwave leveled him with the dryest, most unamused look Brainstorm’s ever seen from someone without a face. “You were a menace to all of Cybertronian society.”

“Nothing’s changed then,” said Perceptor. Brainstorm flicked him in the leg with one of his ankle winglets.

“Wait,” said Hot Rod. “You banished someone for ‘potentially threatening’ experiments, and you still let Shockwave run around? He tried to destroy Earth like, five times! He literally poisoned the AllSpark! He nearly killed everyone and the whole planet! What kind of logic is that?”

“Same old then,” Rodimus said drily.

Hot Rod sighed. “It’s a long story. He’s gone now, anyway. How long has Brainstorm been away? Does he even know the war’s over?”

Soundwave paused. “Uncertain. All contact with the moon he was banished to and Cybertron was cut off directly after his arrival.”

Hot Rod and Rodimus both clapped a servo over their face. Other-Perceptor shook his head, while Perceptor consolingly patted Brainstorm on the pauldron. “Unbelievable,” Brainstorm groaned. “Megatron looked at my EM field and thought it was awful enough to kick me off the planet. And then he forgot. Me! Forgot about me!”

“A slight oversight has been made,” Soundwave admitted. “I will inform Megatron and arrange a ship for him immediately. If he still functions.”

Hot Rod huffed. “Oh, even better! You left some innocent guy on the moon, and now he might be dead?”

“Should we go?” muttered Rodimus as Soundwave and Hot Rod broke out into bickering. Brainstorm nodded and slowly started backing away, and the two Perceptor’s plus Rodimus followed him.

“When can we expect an answer?” Perceptor asked Other-Perceptor once they were safely out of ear-shot.

“Soundwave is usually prompt about these things, based on my work experience with him. Megatron is… less so, I’m told. I would wager at least a couple of weeks.”

“Are we staying that long?” Brainstorm asked Rodimus.

“Is something catastrophic going to happen if we do?”

“There’s an eighty-nine point seven-five-three-four-two-four percent chance that the portal could destabilize and collapse, trapping us here until someone aboard Lost Light reopens the portal. Given that everyone who knows how to operate that portal is currently here, it would be implausible we would be able to return to our universe,” said Perceptor.

“It’ll be fine,” said Brainstorm after a stiflingly tense beat. “C’mon, I wanna go talk to Wheeljack.”

--

“Still can’t believe they just left me on the moon,” Brainstorm muttered. He, Perceptor, and Other-Perceptor were currently making their way to a temporary condominium in residential Iacon. It currently was housing a number of freshly displaced Cybertronians until something more suitable could be found or built for them. As Other-Perceptor had predicted, it’d taken roughly twelve days for them to be informed of Other-Brainstorm’s (whose name actually was Brainstorm, not Genitus) whereabouts. It’d then taken another two days for Other-Brainstorm to say he was ready to accept visitors, and another four to get plans in place.

“I’m sure it was nothing personal,” Perceptor was saying as they squeezed their way around a group of laughing mechs.

“I’ve never heard of this mech,” Other-Perceptor mused. “But he must have had some truly uncanny ideas if Megatron decided he was too dangerous for his tastes.”

Brainstorm hummed. “Yeah. I wonder what that poor sod discovered to wind up getting him kicked off the planet.” He gasped and stopped suddenly, servos flying to his subspace. “Scrap! I left my notes in the lab! I wanted to compare them with him!”

Perceptor made an apologetic noise but reluctantly said, “That’s probably for the best. You’d be here for years if you had your notes, and we have to make it back to the Lost Light for our reservations at Swerve’s anyway. I don’t want to try and cajole him into giving us the bar for the evening again.”

“Yeah,” Brainstorm sighed. “There’s always next time, I guess. Hey, do you think our next date could be in another universe?”

“I don’t see why not. Perhaps the energon will be different.”

“What if there isn’t even energon in that universe?”

“Hm, true. I didn’t consider that. We’ll bring our own in case that happens to be the case.”

Other-Perceptor was watching them carefully. “What is the relationship between you two?” he asked mildly. “I didn’t want to assume, but…”

“We’re conjunx endura,” Perceptor said, that especially pleased sparkle that always showed up in his optic whenever he talked about their recent unification glowing to life once again. It gave Brainstorm weird fuzzy feelings in his circuits. He’d have to investigate what precisely in his code caused that later.

“‘Conjunx?’” Other-Perceptor frowned. “I’m not familiar with the term.”

“Write that down, write that down!” Brainstorm hissed, grabbing Perceptor’s arm.

“You write it down. I’m attempting to have a conversation,” said Perceptor, brushing Brainstorm’s servo before capturing it in his own. He gave it a light squeeze, which had Brainstorm’s wings fluttering away. “Yes. Brainstorm is my conjunx. The formal term is conjunx endura. It, in an extremely oversimplified definition, means he is my significant other.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. “I see. I don’t have one such partner myself. The war and the Quintesson invasion took away most time for such matters. For most others, anyway.” Brainstorm thought of Soundwave’s servo on Hot Rod’s hip and wondered what in the hell happened to this universe for that to happen.

“But the war’s done now, isn’t it?” he said as they turned down into a plaza and started making their way toward the condominium.

“Allow me to rephrase. I’m not interested in seeking such a relationship at the moment. A new lab partner is more than sufficient. And I must admit I am curious about what exactly it is this Brainstorm created that scared Megatron of all mechs so badly.”

“Eh, that’s fair. Lab partner is still pretty alright.”

“I happen to agree with that,” said Perceptor.

“Oh, you just happen to?”

“You know what I mean.”

The three of them entered through the first set of doors and were met with a wall of buttons labeled with room numbers. Other-Perceptor unhesitantly pushed the button to Other-Brainstorm’s room. A few seconds later, a small screen flickered to life, revealing someone with a familiar orange blast mask.

“My wings look different,” Brainstorm commented as soon as the connection stabilized.

“Good thing they’re my wings and not yours,” Other-Brainstorm snipped back without missing a beat. Brainstorm barked a laugh.

“Fair enough! Can we come down?”

A loud crash! crackled through the speakers. Other-Perceptor grimaced, while Perceptor merely looked faintly resigned. Other-Brainstorm, entirely unperturbed, said, “Yeah, yeah, just watch your step when you come in. I haven’t gotten to organize yet, so the place is a tad messy.”

“Oh, dear,” murmured Perceptor as the second set of doors to the lobby slid open and the trio of scientists stepped through. “I can only hope that this universe’s Brainstorm’s idea of ‘messy’ is far more reasonable than yours.”

Brainstorm narrowed his optics. “Is this about the moldy energon crystal sample again? I feel like this is about the moldy energon crystal sample again.”

“It was there for three years, Brainstorm.”

“So I sometimes lose track of things! Big deal!”

“How did he manage that?” asked Other-Perceptor as they piled into the elevator. Were all elevators in his universe this roomy? This one could have comfortably housed a few more average-sized mechs like himself. Or maybe like, twelve Tailgate’s or Rewind’s.

Perceptor sighed. “I still haven’t quite managed to parse that one out. All I know is that three years ago, it wasn’t possible to grow mold on crystalized energon.”

Brainstorm threw up his servos, narrowly avoiding whacking Perceptor’s scope. “You’re teaming up on me!” he whined. “Okay, fine. I’ll admit it was bad.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

The elevator was a short ride to the basement, so it was only a few seconds before the doors dinged open, and the three of them spilled out into the hall.

“Which way?” asked Other-Perceptor.

At that moment, a shrill whistling began to shriek from the leftward hallway, pitching up higher and louder with every passing second until it was cut off with a loud bang accompanied by profuse swearing.

“G51 sounds like it’s that way,” Perceptor said dryly.

He’s correct, of course, and Brainstorm knocks a cheery rhythm against the door. It slid open, and in the doorway stood Other-Brainstorm. Yep. That was him, alright. There was the teal paint job, the white wings, and… a purple Decepticon sigil, branded right across his orange cockpit. Yeesh.

“I was starting to think I’d cleaned up for nothing,” Other-Brainstorm greeted.

“If this is your idea of clean, I’d hate to see what messy is,” mused Other-Perceptor as he stepped into the threshold, scope bobbing wildly as it drank in the chaotic environment. A criss-cross of thick cables and wires were taped to the ground, winding around the room to various machines lined up against the walls. Multiple experiments suspended in thin air crowded up the ceiling, ranging from maybe-guns to definitely-guns to things Brainstorm didn’t even know what to call. Datapads were scattered everywhere, tossed into open drawers, and haphazardly stacked into concerningly tall towers.

“Hardy har,” said Other-Brainstorm, crossing his arms. “Who’re you to start critiquing my workspace?”

“I am this universe’s Perceptor. I am a scientist like yourself. And my companions are an alternate version of you and I.”

Other-Brainstorm looked distinctly unimpressed. “Alternative universes? Please. That was like, a million years ago.”

“What?” squawked Brainstorm.

“You—Excuse me?” Perceptor gaped.

Other-Perceptor pushed further inside and started scanning the massive whiteboard taking up an entire wall of the apartment. “I don’t recognize any of the formulas here,” he said, somehow sounding simultaneously highly skeptical and impressed. “What are they?”

“Oh, I derived those. They describe a relationship between the mesh that constitutes the space-time continuum of multiple dimensions and any one object,” Other-Brainstorm said with a shrug.

Other-Perceptor stared at the board for a while longer. Then he turned around and said, “I can see why Megatron would perceive you as a class one threat. These could cause insurmountable amounts of devastation if they fell into the wrong hands.”

Other-Brainstorm threw up his hands. “Why does everyone keep saying that! I’m not gonna do anything!”

“Why make these, then?”

“I had to see if I could.” He paused. “And it gets boring on the moon.”

“A test, then? A game?”

“I guess? It’s not that deep, to be honest. I was just having fun.”

Other-Perceptor nodded. Then, he turned and neatly sat down in a nearby stool, chin jutted up. “You’re going to tell me everything you’ve learned,” he said calmly, “and I’m not leaving until you do.”

“Uh.” Other-Brainstorm blinked. “You sure you won’t be missed anywhere? Might take a while,” he warned.

“I might be. I don’t care.”

“...Slag. Okay. I guess I’ll start with… Well, where do you wanna start?”

“The beginning. I meant everything.”

“Well, damn,” Brainstorm murmured to Perceptor as Other-Brainstorm stared for a second before he grinned and launched into his explanations. “That was fast.”

“He might not be missed,” said Perceptor, “but we will be if we don’t leave soon.”

“Aw, c’mon, we were just getting to the fun part!”

“You can get caught up later when you come back,” Other-Perceptor said, half-distracted as Other-Brainstorm brought up a sprawling holograph of notes. Brainstorm whined a bit; he didn’t know what those equations were for either, and he was dying to know. But Perceptor was right. Rodimus’ threats to leave anyone late to take-off behind were not to be taken lightly. He’d done it before, and he would do it again.

“I’m holding you to that.” Brainstorm shimmied out of the doorway and back out into the hallway. “C’mon Percy, let’s go.”

Once they were back outside the condominium, Perceptor and Brainstorm took a bit of time to meander around the city, trying to identify anything they could. But the buildings here were in a completely different style to the ones on the Cybertron they were familiar with, and monuments and popular spots in town looked nothing at all like what either of them knew them to be. God, it was positively killing Brainstorm to have to leave so quickly. Slaughtering him. There was so much to explore still, so many more questions he had, and not enough of them had been answered to tide him over until their next visit.

“Do you think they’ll get along?” Perceptor asked as they finally began to make their way back to the Lost Light. The fuel quills were nearly at full mast, the sharp points just barely peeking out above the city skyline. They’d need to hurry.

Brainstorm glanced at him. “You don’t think they will?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m only asking because I know we didn’t exactly have what one would call an instant connection when we started working together.”

A thunderous, rumbling boom cut Brainstorm off before he could answer. Seconds later, the shockwave rolled over them, just strong enough to force them to take a step back. They whipped around, a plume of black smoke already smudging the air in the direction of the condominium.

“You know what?” Brainstorm said as the smoke rose higher and higher. “I think they’re gonna get along just fine, Percy.”

[sparkleofpizza]

Being a Kent and dating a batboy - headcanon

Tim Drake

You were Clark’s adoptive daughter, he had decided to take you in after your parents left you behind;

You were Conner and Jon’s little sister;

Very overprotective over you;

You had known Tim for a very long time now, since he was Conner’s best friend and all;

You though he was very cute, not that you would admit it to anyone;

Lois knew - she knew everything, but didn’t say anything to you, letting you tell her yourself when you felt comfortable enough to;

She knew the boys would freak out if they found out, even Clark;

Lex Luthor was planning something big and bad, very bad;

Lois was out of the country for some conference she would be covering for te Daily Planet and they’d be damned if they let anything happen to you, so they did the most logic thing they could think of at the moment: send you away to stay at the Wayne Manor while they sorted things out;

You weren’t a super and although you knew how to fight they couldn’t risk you getting hurt;

 You were offended they thought you couldn’t handle yourself, but knew they were only doing it out of love;

You also wouldn’t pass up the opportunity of spending some quality time with Tim without one of your brother lurking around;

He was over the moon to know you were staying over for a while;

The both of you did everything together;

Stayed up all night working on cases;

Drank a lot of coffee;

Went on little coffee dates, not like you actually called it a date;

Watched movies and lots of tv shows;

Sparred together;

The nights Tim left for patrol were the worse, you would stay up waiting for him to come back, worried out of your mind;

I mean, your brothers and father were fighting a big threat back home, and your crush was risking his neck to save the city, it is impossible not to worry;

So one night you wrapped yourself up in one of his blankets and lied on his bed, waiting for him to return;

Oh, when he saw you so peacefully asleep, he felt like his heart was going to explode, you were just so so so adorable;

He lied down next to you, groaning a bit since he got hurt during patrol;

You sat up, eyes wide open when you heard that sound, turning around and grabbing his face in between your hands;

“Are you hurt?” You asked, way too serious “It’s just a broken rib” He smiled at you, leaning in your touch

To this day you still don’t know what gotten into you, but you pressed your lips against his in a heated kiss, pouring all of your emotions in it;

He obviously kissed you back;

You spend the rest of the night in each others arms, professing their love for one another;

Actually, you started to spend most of your nights like that;

And days too;

You were always in each others embrace;

You were afraid to tell your brothers and father that you and Tim were dating;

You were pretty sure Conner would freak out, you are his little sister and you’re dating his best friend;,

The both of you would sneak out a lot after you went home;

Whenever Tim was around you and your brothers or his brothers were there too, he had to fight back the urge to just wrap his arms around your waist and prep kisses all over your face;

You would sneak off a lot, not really wanting anyone to know about your relationship;

Damian was the first one to find out about you and Tim and surprisingly allowed you to tell the news to everyone when you were ready for it;

Lois knew, of course she knew, you couldn’t just get your first boyfriend who was also a vigilant and your brother’s best friend and just not tell your mother about it;

It was a chaos when everyone found out;

You and Tim were cuddling in the Cave, him working and you sitting on his lap, massaging his scalp and playing with his hair;

Conner yelled and tried to kill your boyfriend the moment he saw it;

Jon tried to kill him too, Clark was just too shocked to say something;

Bruce stood still watching the scene unfold before he tried to break them free;

Jason slid some money to Dick, loosing the bet they had placed on the both of you as Damian shook his head in shame;

The fight had escalated way too quickly;

You were so frustrated you said you would only talk to them when they learned how to behave like proper human beings and not treat you like an object of possession;

Walking alone I’m Gotham at 3 am couldn’t possibly be a good idea, but there you were, on your own only wearing a hood and not even carrying your phone with you;

You ended up with a superficial cut on your side and a bruised hand after kicking 4 thugs asses on your own;

Tim was the first to find you, pulling you into a tight embrace, but panicking once he saw some blood dripping - it was really a small cut, but he carried you to the hospital despite your protests;

Your father and brothers soon learned about where you were, they were kind of shocked that Tim thought you should get medical help when you clearly had a very superficial cut and Alfred could’ve handled it in a blink of an eye; 

That kind of made them start to change their minds about you guys relationship;

Of course it doesn’t mean that Jon and specially Conner didn’t threatened to kill Tim very slowly if he ever hurt you, and that they were always keeping an eye on you;

So secret make out sessions had to become even more secretive and silent, God you hated super hearing;

You once had to stay with your hair down for almost a week because of a hickey Tim left on your neck, and from there on you both agreed that hickeys were only allowed in the body parts that would remain covered in clothing;

Overall, dis-considering your family overprotectiveness, you were just too happy;

Tim made you happy and you loved him.

Damian Wayne

You were Clark’s baby daughter;

Actually just two years younger than Jon, but they still treated you as a baby;

You didn’t really want to take on the mantle of being Supergirl, so you only ever did superhero activity when it was extremely important;

That being said you weren’t a big part of meeting your family vigilantes and superhero acquaintances;

You actually randomly met Damian not knowing he was your brother’s friend - you knew of him, but didn’t remember his face;

He was in Metropolis to visit Jon and they were supposed to meet at an ice cream shop, but he got lost, running into you. You being he nice person you are decided to take him there, and then once you saw your brother, you were really confused until you realized they were friends;

Damian thought you were a bit stupid, he knew who you were and you didn’t recognize him - he was just bitter that you didn’t remember his face;

You took it upon yourself to make up for the fact that you didn’t remember him, you were feeling so guilty over it;

So every time you saw Damian you would brightly smile at him and ask him how he was doing, ask him about his pets - you learned that from Jon - ask him about Robin, but he didn’t seem to want to talk;

You were sure he hated you, and that made you really sad;

You just had a minor huge crush on him;

One day you had a horrible day at school, people were mean, you failed a geometry test and it just straight up sucked to the point that literally anything could make you cry, so when you only muttered a small hello upon seeing Damian he knew something was up, and he was onto it to find out what it was;

Oh boy, once he cornered you and saw your big round sad eyes full of tears and lip quivering from trying not to cry he promised he would break every single bone of whoever had done that to you;

See, he had a crush on you too;

He started tutoring you on geometry, and you actually improved, he was done with school, but was so smart and that made you a bit more attracted to him;

Your mom, Lois, asked you about your feelings towards him, but you just brushed it off, you didn’t confirm nor denied it;

One day during one of your study dates, Damian placed his hand on your thigh, you tried to ignore it, but before you could realized it you were both kissing each other with you being lied on bed with him on top of you;

That became normal and shortly after you two were dating;

Damian wanted to make things right, so he planned a dinner with both his and yours family to announce you two were dating;

Everyone was shocked, Damian was dating? And it was you????

Jon wanted to jump up his neck and kill him, how could he date his little sister? The bro code!

Damian was unfazed and so were you, not letting anyone get in the middle of your relationship;

Clark was a bit weirded out because you were dating Bruce’s son, but he knew he was a good kid so it was ok for him, Conner thought it was odd and gave Damian a threat if he ever hurt you, Lois was over the moon; 

But they were all a bit skepitical about your relationship, everyone thought you wouldn’t last too long;

You were happy everyone took it better than expected, Jon would get there someday too, he couldn’t be mad at you both forever;

Or so you thought;

You and Damian had a date planned? Better think again, Jon is there to ruin it;

You two are making out? Better run fast because Jon is ready to punch Damian;

The truth was that he was feeling left out, Damian is his best friend and he didn’t say anything about liking you, he had to find out when you both got together, and well you’re his sister dating his best friend! It is weird for him! 

Everyone soon found out Damian meant serious business with you, the hardest and most horrible way, but they did;

You were out on the field with everyone, it was one of those times there was a big threat and you had to help out;

You were about the get shot and Damian just jumped in front of you, taking the bullet for you;

“Did you just take a bullet for me?” You yelled, kneeling down and pressing on the wound He smiled weekly at you “Of course, beloved, I couldn’t let you get hurt” You looked skeptically at him “You do realize I’m bulletproof, right?”

Jon was flipping his shit once he saw his best friend, collapsing by his side and apologizing for ever thinking he was just messing around with you, and also stating he was stupid for jumping in front of a bullet;

You stayed with Damian 24/7 during his recovery, doing everything for him and just being extra cuddly and lovely;

Jon stopped bothering you, stating he was 100% on board of you two dating, but the moment he saw you making out, Damian without a shirt and you on his lap, boy... He was traumatized.

[tsume-ks]

aliens vs fae

right so. usually in these things it’s humans vs the aliens or our animals vs the aliens or the aliens being perplexed by us humans. but! think of this, if the fae were real (here’s to hoping they aren’t) they would definitely screw with aliens on purpose because, “Excuse me, those humans are mine, you can’t have them”

The aliens showed up on earth, expecting a fight but not much of one. And, that’s what happened. Until someone said thank you to one of the humans. One of the small ones. 

“Thank you little human, I do like these flowers.”

The small human had smiled. But the other humans were edging away from it. Like they knew what was going to happen. The alien quivered, uneasy as the animals called crows began to gather in the trees. Looking back at the small human was the wrong thing to do. The smile was wrong. The small human changed shape, something the alien had learned humans couldn’t do. The small human wasn’t small anymore. The alien was looking into the face of something both too beautiful and too horrifying to be a human. 

“You are most well come sira. Please, if you would call your superior, I would have words with them.”

The alien wouldn’t do anything of the sort. But even as they thought that, they found themselves inputting the code to call the leader down to Earth. What was happening? They couldn’t stop themself, no matter how hard they tried. 

The leader sent a reply, asking why they were needed planetside. The alien sent back that someone was insistent on talking to the leader. The small human who was not a small human turned to one of the few who had not left the area. 

“Maggie, would you prepare some food for our guests?” 

The human Maggie stood out among the humans, even to the alien for the red color of her head fur. “Would you like milk with the tea?”

“Of course Maggie, it is traditional after all.” 

Maggie went back in the building she’d come out of, in answer to the call of the small human who was not a small human. By the time the leader had arrived on planet, she was coming out with a tray covered in what the alien had learned were called sweet breads, honey, tea and milk. 

The leader came over to the alien, just as the small human who was not a small human did something and a table and chairs appeared for Maggie to place the tray on. 

“Thank you Maggie, the brownies have told me of your attentiveness toward them. I do believe I shall recommend your shop to others of my kin.”

“As you like Madam. It warms my heart to know the brownies are happy.”

With that, Maggie left. The alien stared at Maggie and the table.

“Sit, please.”

The alien once again found themself unable to disobey, sitting at the table as commanded. Their leader narrowed their eyes at the small human who was not a small human. Slowly, they sat. All three watched each other from across the table. Finally, the alien had had enough and reached for the food. 

“Oh, dear me. My mistake, I seem to have forgotten my manners. And so, it seems, have you sira. What is your name?”

The alien wasn’t going to say, but was again compelled despite their commander telling them to be silent. “I am Quithna.” 

“Well Quithna. I am happy to have you as one of my servants from now on.”

Wait, what? Their leader leaned forward as the small human who was not a human poured the tea and took a sip before biting into one of the sweet breads. 

“That is no going to happen. My soldiers belong to the Collective, not some strange human.”

“Of course sira. However, your soldier has placed themself in my debt and until I release them, there they shall stay. Besides, they broke the rules of hospitality. You may eat now, the food is not poisoned.” 

“Never mind the food!” shouted the leader. Quithna grimaced, if their leader was shouting something bad was likely to happen. “You have no right to my soldier. You humans are the servants here! You haven’t even achieved inter-planetary travel in your own solar system!”

The small human who was not a human smiled again. Quithna wanted to run away but found they couldn’t move at all. “Leader-” they started.

“Silence.” 

A single command, not from their leader but the human who was not human and they could not speak. Could not even pass a message from their skin to their leader’s when their leader saw they couldn’t speak. They were as commanded silent.

The leader stared at the small human who was not a small human. “What is it you want?”

“Now, you get the idea. What I want sira, is for you to give back the children you have taken.” The eyes of the small human who was not a small human were glittering, malice emanating from them to the point that Quithna wanted to run and hide. They had only felt such bloodlust from a few of the most war like of the species which made up the Collective, and only when there was a battle to be had. 

“What?! No, that is out of the question. Those children are going to be trained properly and taught how to be a part of society away from your petty human politics.”

“Ah, sira, then you will get none of your soldiers back.” 

The leaders communication pad went wild at just that moment. All over the planet, sub-leaders were sending reports that soldiers just like Quithna were vanishing, or dying  or behaving very oddly all of a sudden. The leader looked over to the small human who was not a small human. 

“What have you done?”

“Have none of your captives told you of us? Well, I’m not much surprised, the only version the little ones might have spoken of are highly diluted versions of what we are. We are the Fae, the Sidhe, the Fair Folk. We are the hunters, the friends, the protectors, the masters of humans. We do not appreciate interlopers. When you return the children, we will release your living soldiers. Until then, we shall do as we like to them. Quithna, you may eat now.”

In a daze, Quithna felt themself reaching for one of the sweet breads. Their leader grabbed their arm to try and stop them. They could hear their leader in their head, commanding them to stop but they could not. 

Fuming, the leader sent a message to those still aboard the ships. Around the square, small humans began appearing. Most of them were crying. Maggie popped her head out of the building. She waved to one of the small humans who grabbed hold of the hands of those close to her and dragged them over. Soon, enough, all of the small humans were in the building and other adult humans were appearing at the edges of the square. 

“A pleasure doing business with you sira.”

The small human who was not a small human turned into a crow and as Quithna and their leader watched, flew off. With a gasp Quithna yanked themself out of the chair and grabbed the hand of their leader, babbling all the thoughts that had been building up in their head. 

“Can we just go home?” They had to ask their leader, it was after all, the thing they wanted most. Their leader sighed. 

“Fine, I just have to recall everyone. I don’t want another incident like this happening again. I’ll have to talk to the Council about what to do about this but we’re going back.”

Back they both went to the ship, floating about this innocuous blue planet. Quithna stared down at it. From here it didn’t look like it harbored anything that could force them to do its bidding with just a few words. They shuddered. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be asked to go planetside ever again. 

No wonder the humans had been so willing to fight the Collective if they had to deal with that sort of thing all the time.

[tessiete]

(2) In a world where Anakin doesn’t exist and Qui-Gon is alive and is being an amazing grandpa to Korkie and super supportive dad to both Obi-Wan and Satine… I am 100% sold!! This is such an incredible AU!! I can’t get enough of it! With that being said, do you mind writing more stories set in this world/universe? If you don’t mind, then for the Spotify ask I‘d choose #7 with Qui-Gon, Korkie, Obi-Wan and Satine. However, the ficlet can be based on whatever song you like the most on your playlist

Hello! To my dear @anakin-skywalker-is-my-hero - alright, so I know we talked privately because I wanted to make sure this would be something you liked, and you very graciously let me include Anakin...

But then...

The song you picked was um...”Mommy, What If?” Which is a children’s lullaby, because I like to relive my childhood as often as possible, okay? Yes. Essentially the Canadian version of Sesame Street (Sharon, Lois & Bram), was my #7 Spotify wrapped.

Anyway, that meant that I actually ended up writing a lot more about Korkie & Anakin than anyone else.

Mind blown, they’re only like 3 years apart. Anakin is only 5 years older than Ahsoka. WHAT IS GOING ON OVER THERE!?

So, while in this AU is does very much end up still being Obi-Wan & Anakin, platonic soulmates, right now they’re just too far apart in terms of maturity to make that a thing.

All this to excuse myself, but I do really hope you like this fic! <3333

NO SINGLE EFFORT

Kiorkicek Kryze has learned a secret. 

And it’s one he doesn’t think that anyone else around him knows. Not Master Windu, who always looks at him with a frown, but slips sweets into his hands when others aren’t looking. Not Knight Vos, who once let Korkie try out his lightsaber in exchange for his word that he’d not tell Master Kenobi how the glass panel of his datapadd got shattered. And definitely not Padawan Briss, who claimed to have sneaked into the Forbidden Archives one night, and met a ghost that granted wishes to those brave enough to look for him.

There are no Forbidden Archives, and there are no ghosts - he’d asked Master Kenobi - so he’s convinced that Padawan Briss must not know much of anything, let alone his secret.

Masters Jinn and Kenobi don't know it either, he's certain, for they're much too old, and much too serious to even imagine the wonderful thing Korkie has found.

There is a boy who lives in the wall.

Korkie hadn’t known it at first. He’d thought himself quite alone in his room, as he lay awake in his little bed. The light of Coruscant’s city streets were too far below the Temple to be seen, the cacophony of life too distant to be heard, and Korkie’s thoughts far too quick to be quieted by sleep, so to pass the time, he’d tapped out a pattern upon the wall.

After that, he’d knocked again, enjoying the sound. The soft percussive beats fell like rain from his fingertips. He knocked louder, like thunder, striking the wall with the flat of his hand. Then with his littlest finger he knocked as gently as he could, just to see how small a noise could be. 

And then, the wall knocked back.

Startled, Korkie cautiously tried again - three sharp raps. And three sharp raps came back. He traded knocks with the wall for hours, until he fell asleep, and then the next night, he knocked again. And so did the wall. Soon, a sort of language developed between Korkie and the echo in the wall. Two small knocks were made in greeting, and two small knocks replied. Sometimes he knocked out the fractured rhythms of Mandalorian marches he recalled, sometimes the taps were secret codes for the echo to decipher. Sometimes they meant nothing at all but comfort. And sometimes, the wall would send its own patterns back.

Then, one day, after a month of such late night encounters, Anakin Skywalker looks at him from over morning meal with his head tilted to the side, his short braid brushing over his shoulder, and says, “Oh, you’re the boy in the wall.”

Korkie feels silly then, for he’d begun to think of the little knocking ghost as his own, something part of himself, held safe between the walls and revealed only to him, at night, in the dark, and alone. But everyone knows about Padawan Skywalker. He is Master Jinn’s padawan. He is bright, and loud, and strange. He is the Chosen One. There is nothing secret about Anakin.

Even Master Obi-Wan seems unsettled by Anakin, and watches him out of the corner of his eye. 

But Anakin is afraid of nothing. He gives Korkie an appraising look, staring in a way that Korkie’s mother had taught him was rude, and reaches to take a second helping of yuka seed pudding without asking first. Korkie doesn’t know what to say.

“I’d kind of thought it was only my imagination,” says Anakin, instead.

“I thought you were in mine,” says Korkie.

Anakin talks with his mouth full when he replies, “Well, anyway, I guess it’s better that you’re real. I’d rather a friend who can go places with me.”

So Korkie does. Anakin Skywalker is a whole head taller than him, and comes from a planet with a desert you can live in. He speaks six different languages, and knows about a million ways to slice a droid, but he also is new to the Temple, and doesn’t mind when Korkie needs extra help in finding his way. And in return, Korkie helps him with the other things - the things that Anakin can’t do so well. He helps with his Basic, and remembering when to bow, and in what order. He helps with ID chits, and chain codes, and how to navigate the holonet. He lets Anakin have his commlink when he breaks his own, and doesn’t protest when it’s returned with cinder smudges and scorch marks.

And at night, when everyone is asleep, when Korkie knows that Anakin thinks most of home, he knocks on the wall between them to remind him he is not alone.

And Anakin knocks back.

“What is it that you’re saying to me?” he asks, when next they meet. Master Jinn is always over for tea, and Master Obi-Wan makes frequent calls for counsel, so they are in company more often than not, and more often than not, they choose to be these days.

“Oh, nothing,” says Korkie, prodding at his holocam until a staticky, and uncertain solar system is thrown into the sky. It flickers out of existence just as quickly as it came, and Korkie sighs. “Just old songs my belli used to sing to me.”

“Let me have that,” says Anakin. He grabs the holocam from Korkie’s fingers, and turns it over and over in his hands. “Who’s your belli?” he asks.

“From Mandalore,” Korkie explains. “My buir. Who I came from.”

“Oh!” exclaims Anakin. “Your mom!”

Then he goes very silent for a moment, his brow furrows, biting at his lip and concentrating very hard on the cam in his hand. 

“I don’t think you’re supposed to talk about your mom.”

“Oh,” says Korkie. “Why not?”

Anakin shrugs. “Master Jinn says we’re supposed to let go of the past. And my - my mom said we don’t look back.”

Korkie thinks about this, while Anakin pries open the belly of his unit, prodding at the silicon innards. 

“Master Obi-Wan has never said that.”

“Well, does he talk about your belli?”

“No,” concedes Korkie. “She only makes him sad.”

“Like I said,” he says, restoring the metal plate, locking it in place, and handing the device back. “Try it now.”

Korkie thumbs the switch, and the two boys are caught in the orbit of a million worlds, and a billion tiny stars. They rotate through the air, casting glittering light over their faces, and the burnished glow of their hair.

“Perhaps they don’t say anything only because they have no mothers of their own, and they don’t know what it is to miss them.”

“The Jedi don’t have moms or dads,” insists Anakin, scowling at the stars.

“Well, we do,” says Korkie.

Anakin has nothing to say to that, and so emboldened, Korkie presses his suit.

“Maybe, perhaps, we can do both?” he suggests. “Maybe we can talk about them to each other, and not to our masters, and that can be our secret, and that way no one has to be sad.”

For a moment, Anakin says nothing. He sits as still upon his knees as Korkie has ever seen him, his eyes tracking one bright object then the next. Finally, after an eternity, he nods slowly, as if unconvinced, but unable to resist.

“Okay,” he says. “Our secret.”

And Korkie grins in delight.

That night, their mouths pressed to the wall, and then their ears in turn, they speak to each other about their homes.

“Shall I go first, or you?” asks Korkie, his voice low and eager.

“Me,” replies Anakin. “I’m the oldest.”

“Alright. What is your mother’s favourite colour?” He turns his ear to the wall as soon as he has finished, not wanting to miss a word of Anakin’s response. He presses close until the cartilage pinches, and his temple beats out his pulse against the flat.

“Blue,” he says. “Like the skies. Like my eyes. What about your mom?”

“Blue, too!” he says, and in his excitement, he nearly forgets himself. “And my eyes are blue like yours.”

“Of course,” comes the voice. “We are brothers, after all.”

They sit in silence for a moment after that, because it is difficult to speak through the wall. It is hard to be precise, and harder still to think of good questions. None of them really show anything about what it is they miss most.

“Did your mom ever sing to you at night?”

“Yes,” says Korkie. “Did yours?”

“Yeah. And during the day. Everyone sings on Tatooine. To tell the time.”

“Sing me one,” says Korkie, “For late at night.” And he falls asleep to Anakin’s voice humming softly from behind the wall. 

In the Archives, Korkie asks him about the song.

“It’s about the market at the Pika Oasis,” Anakin says. “Old women go to sell their fruits, but sometimes, everyone is too poor to buy anything.”

“Could you buy anything?” Korkie asks.

“No. We were always too poor to buy,” says Anakin. He almost says something else, but changes his mind, and says instead, “I know another one you’d like.”

“Okay!” Korkie agrees.

Anakin checks his shoulder to make sure they’re completely alone, and leans low over his holotext. Korkie leans closer to hear. In a sweet, lilting voice, Anakin sings words that Korkie has known since birth.

“Buir, buir!” he goes. “Te ik'aad pir'ekulor, te ik'aad pir'ekulor par gar, a te kar cuyir dar teh te kebii'tra, bal Ni dar'taylir tion'jor. O meg, o meg, kelir Ni vaabir?”

“That’s Mando’a!” Korkie shouts. His eyes are wide, and his surprise so great that it awakens some holobooks on a distant shelf. They flicker blue, before steadying again, and going back to sleep as Korkie wrestles his emotions back into a respectable form. “How do you know Mando’a?”

“My mom,” says Anakin, smiling like a felinx. “She learned from the traders, and then she taught me.”

“Sing it again,” Korkie demands.

So he does, and when he’s finished, Korkie frowns and tugs on his own short braid.

“It’s almost right,” he says. “But you sound funny.”

Anakin bristles. “That’s exactly how I learned it.”

“No, no,” says Korkie. “It’s just the tune. It should be more like this.”

And that night, Korkie sings Anakin to sleep as he recalls the strange reciting tones of his belli’s gentle voice.

This goes on until one day, Master Jinn tells Anakin - who informs Korkie in turn, who then tells his master who, of course, already knows - that they have been assigned a mission. They are being sent to a nearby Core world in order to mark the first anniversary of a long-awaited conurbation of planets.

Anakin is thrilled. 

Master Qui-Gon is calm as ever as he lays his hand along Obi-Wan’s forearm, and presses a palm to his cheek.

“We’ll return soon,” he says. “And under far less duress than the last time we ventured forth.”

Obi-Wan smiles, but it is a grim little thing, and Master Jinn’s words do nothing to chase the tremulous shadows from his eyes. 

“It’s only a few days,” agrees Anakin. “And we’re going to attend a banquet!”

He grins at Korkie, who feels similarly uneasy. He sidles closer to the thick folds of his master’s cloak, and reaches up to find buried between them his father’s hand. His palm slides easily into Obi-Wan’s and they take comfort in how they cleave to each other.

“Be careful,” says Master Obi-Wan.

“Always, my padawan,” replies Master Jinn.

They leave without a backward glance, and Korkie eats alone with his master that night.

It is only later, after the sun has set, and he’s tucked tightly beneath the soft blankets of his bed, that Korkie reaches out to knock against his wall, and is surprised when no one knocks back.

He knocks again, but still, he is alone, and in the silence of his lonely room, he begins to cry.

He knocks, and weeps into the down of his pillow, and weeps, and knocks again.

And then, someone knocks back.

But the sound comes from his door, and is followed by the hiss of pneumatics, and the warm spill of light from the hallway beyond.

“Kiorkicek?” calls his master, with the light at his back. “What’s wrong?”

He cannot say, and only cries louder, calling out for his master, and relief from the dark. The Jedi doesn’t hesitate. He sweeps into the room, the edges of his robes gilded with bronze, and leans over to pull Korkie into the cradle of his arms. He clings to his father, his legs kicking free of the blanket to wrap about his waist, and his arms thrown about Obi-Wan’s neck. 

But though he reaches for Obi-Wan like he reached for his mother, it doesn’t feel the same. His father holds him, but doesn’t rock him in his arms. He rubs circles on his back, but does not press a kiss to his brow, or stroke his hair. He whispers in his ear, but he does not speak his tongue. He is nothing like his mother.

Until he starts to sing.

It is not a song of Mandalore, or of desert markets in the Outer Rim. It is neither happy, nor sad, but something balanced in between, like dawn. He sings of night. He sings of light. And he sings of them, together, promising himself to Korkie until time beyond knowing. 

Gradually, his breathing calms, and his cheeks dry, and he goes willing, and boneless back beneath the covers as Obi-Wan tucks them both into the narrow confines of Korkie’s bed.

“Is that a song from your belli?” murmurs Korkie, held close to Obi-Wan’s chest.

“No,” Obi-Wan whispers, so quietly that only the stirring of golden hair may mark it. “It is a song from the Jedi,” he says. “It is a song from Master Jinn.”

And together, they fall asleep.

[colehasapen]

(ONE SHOT) aikiyc STAR WARS

Rex lost everything when Order 66 went live. He lost his sense of self, his purpose, his men - he lost brothers, and sisters, and siblings. He killed them himself, put them down to protect Ahsoka, and then he lost Ahsoka too as soon as the ashes settled and the dead were buried. She said it was because they were too identifiable to travel together, that they’d catch the wrong sort of attention, but Rex suspects it was a different reason that had her walking away again.

She couldn’t look at him, not after what his brothers did. She couldn’t look at him without being reminded of it all, of what she lost, and Rex couldn’t blame her. He wouldn’t hold it against her for leaving, but it didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to see her go.

Over the following months, he had managed to establish contact with Echo and the Bad Batch, and working with them had managed to chase away the aching loneliness that had settled into his bones. No clone took well to being alone - they were supposed to be constantly surrounded by others, they were decanted together, they died together, and the survivors kept marching together. Having someone around made him feel like he was fighting for something again after being aimless and alone. They do what they can to hinder the Empire; they raid supply lines, blow up depots, and break into so many buildings that Rex actually starts to lose count, stealing away with anything that hadn’t been bolted down.

The Empire thinks they’re pirates, and they do nothing to hinder this belief.

It’s not long into their self-imposed mission to be as much of a pain to the newly formed Empire as possible when they find Gregor and Wolffe on separate planets, bothing having made it out of the fall of the Republic and the murder of the Jedi with only partially-active chips. They go under for the surgery and come out with most of their minds intact, heavy with grief and a desperate desire for revenge.

Having Wolffe near - a broken, quiet shadow of the fierce Commander he had been, but still Rex’s older brother - makes him miss his brothers even more. It brings back the fear that he had tried so hard to bury, wishing that he knew what had happened to Cody after the Republic burned. He knows that Cody was on Utapau when the Order went live, but he has no idea what had happened to his ori’vod after the fact. By the time he had made it to Utapau, back before he had met up with the Bad Batch, Ghost Company had already moved on, and Rex hadn’t stuck around for long to try to investigate. Neither Wolffe, a fellow Commander, or Gregor, a former member of the 212th, knew what had happened to Cody, and the lack of knowledge had begun to grate on them all - not even the combined slicing abilities of Echo and Tech could break through the newly upgraded and ever-changing firewalls the Empire employed to find Cody’s position.

They have no leads. None, that is, until they find a familiar clone balancing on the brink of death, abandoned with a sizzling lightsaber wound in his gut to die slowly and alone, a curse no clone would ever want. Wolffe had held his brother as he struggled for breath, begging Fox to pull through.

He doesn’t, but enough of Fox managed to shine through the haze of the chip to give them the authorization codes they need to get into the Empire’s systems. It took them longer than any of them wanted to admit to convince Wolffe to let go of his batchmate’s body to let them burn him, and Rex hadn’t been able to look anyone in the eye as Wrecker had carefully lowered the former Commander onto the unlit pyre. As the fire blazed, he felt numb. He hadn’t been close to Fox since Kamino, back when Cody would smuggle him into his batch’s bunks and hide him in his pod. Even then, he and Fox hadn’t been what others would consider friends, and after Fives - well, their relationship had been well and truly broken, and Rex is less than proud of his inability to feel saddened by Fox’s death beyond his sympathy for Wolffe’s agony.

It’s never easy to lose a brother, especially when they slip away in your arms, and Rex hates how often it had to happen.

Fox’s codes had helped immensely, and Rex passed what he could onto Ahsoka for her to disperse among her contacts. They continue combing through the Empire’s systems, picking apart what they can, and that’s when they find the internal bounty; Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi had survived Order 66. It’s not very promising for Cody’s continued well-being.

Rex couldn’t imagine General Kenobi being able to kill Cody, not knowing what he did about his brother and his relationship with the General, but he can’t guarantee that Kenobi wouldn’t fight back like Ahsoka had when the clones turned on him. He didn’t want to think of General Kenobi cutting Cody down when his Commander turned his blaster on him, never knowing why his partner - in more ways than one - would turn on him when they were so close to the end of the War. So close to the chance to build the future the two of them so desperately wanted together. His dreams are haunted by the image of Cody on the ground, a lightsaber wound through his chest, or his brother being Force thrown into a raging inferno to burn alive. The sounds of screaming makes his head hurt even when he’s awake.

Not knowing makes it all worse.

It’s Echo who finds the security footage; it’s grainy and soundless, and someone had made an attempt to delete it, but it’s easy for Rex to see the scar curling around the temple of the clone in officer grays. He’s standing at the base of the Emperor’s throne, with a hulking figure in all black standing a few steps away. It’s Cody - Rex nearly screams when lighting leaps from Sidious’ fingers to strike his brother in the chest and throw him back. Wolffe snarls like a wounded beast, the others going still and quiet in a way that shows their readiness to throw themselves through the footage to protect their Commander. They’ve all seen too many men killed by weaponized electrical currents to not feel the choking fear that they’re witnessing Cody’s death months after it had happened. When Cody goes down, Rex feels his heart rate spike until the grainy footage shows his brother stirring and pushing himself to his feet to stumble to Sidious’ enforcer’s side.

He's still alive, and with the information they have on them now, they find proof that TK-2224, formerly CC-2224, had been demoted and reassigned to some unimportant moon outpost. While the disrespect aimed towards his brother's skills and talent leaves a sour taste in Rex’s mouth, he's overwhelmingly relieved that it’ll make rescuing his brother so much easier.

The moon is small, with only small mining colonies scattered across the surface, and scouting reveals that the Imperial garrison is manned by natborns who barely pay the single clone among them a second look. Watching Cody go about his duties leaves Rex with an immediate feeling that something is very wrong with his brother, beyond just the chip in his head. He lurches when he walks, stutters slightly on the rare occasions he talks, and the natborns call him defective. The snatches of conversations they manage to catch between the Imperials tells of an impending decommissioning if Cody continues to spiral. Sometimes they joke about putting the clone down themselves.

They need to get him out of there.

It's disturbingly easy to coax Cody away from the Imperial base and into their trap, especially because the Cody they had known was so much more cautious and would never have walked into such an obvious trap, unless it was while he was chasing after his reckless Jedi. The Cody they knew was a deadly fighter and a sharp tactician, while also being crazy enough to have won the respect of the Bad Batch. He had been one of the best, trained personally by Alpha-17 and had been one of the first ARC Program graduates - hells, a whole new rank had been created just for him because he was just so frighteningly competent. It had only been his status as a clone that had stopped him from being promoted to a general on his own merit.

The Cody serving the Empire - TK-2224 - is clumsy, easily distracted, and easier to take down. All it takes is Wrecker hoisting the white-armoured figure up by the armpits and pinning him against his chest in a parody of a hug. Cody squirms, thrashes, but it almost seems like his limbs aren't properly responding to him, and it makes Rex fear that, like Gregor, the chip in his brother's head had done more damage than he could see.

Rex steps forward, the others following his lead, and Cody goes limp at the sight of the familiar armour and patterns, making an odd choking noise that’s muffled by the blank helmet he wears, stripped of any and all personality. For so long, Rex had been imagining seeing his brother again, but now that he’s in front of him, Rex finds that he doesn't know what to say. Would Cody even recognize him , or would he just be CT-7567 to him, like he had been to Jesse and his men?

Cody gurgles something, twitching in Wrecker’s arms, and the giant of a man makes a quiet noise of worry that's broadcast across their comm channel, all-but hugging Cody to him as the former Commander's head lolls. The sight makes Rex’s heart leap into his throat, and he steps forward, pulling off his helmet and letting it drop to the ground, uncaring of where it would land in comparison to his spasming brother.

“ Rex ?” Cody’s voice is a garbled, pained moan that has Rex picking up his pace, Wolffe hot on his heels. “Wolffe?” He twitches again, head jerking to smack the back of his unpainted helmet against Wrecker’s chest plate, squirming away from Tech and his scanner. He's mumbling something unintelligible under his breath, gasping like he couldn't get enough air in his lungs.

Rex is in front of his brother in a heartbeat, grasping for the seal on Cody’s bucket with shaking hands - he hadn't managed to stop them from shaking since he had found Jesse's dying body on that moon, buried under the rubble and face twisted in a mask of bloodied hatred; the shaking has only gotten worse since then - and he peels the helmet off his brother's head. Cody’s face is waxy and wane, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes and scar standing out an angry red against his flushed, hollow cheeks. His eyes are rolling and darting, pupils two different sizes and dilating wildly, and most alarming of all is the steady drip of blood from his nose.

“ Cody .” He breathes like a prayer, as Wolffe makes a sound so wounded he’s almost afraid someone had gotten stabbed. “Shit vod , what did they do to you?”

Cody wheezes, head drooping towards his chest, and Wolffe reaches out to grasp his batchmate’s face in his hands, nearly desperate to touch. Cody’s lips part, letting out a stuttering breath, and the steady drip of blood turns into a stream. “C-chip.” Cody finally manages to gasp wetly, face screwing up in agony. “C-can’t - no more - follow orders - Good soldiers -” with every word, the twitches shaking his body grow more intense, and Echo makes himself known at Rex’s side, pressing a sedative into his hands, “- Please -” Cody chokes out, eyes meeting Rex’s with a desperate kind of madness to them, “- get it out .” He begs.

Rex doesn't need to be asked twice, burying the hypo in the side of his brother's neck. Cody goes stiff for a second, almost shaking out of his armour, before the tension leaves his limbs in a rush, and Wrecker gently releases Cody’s limp frame into Wolffe’s protective hold. He watches, heart pounding, as Wolffe clings to his batchmate, wiping the blood from Cody’s face with a gentleness he wouldn't offer just anyone. Cody’s eyes flutter as Wolffe speaks to him, gruff voice quiet and soothing, and he seems to just melt into the other Commander’s arms.

Finally, Cody’s eyes drift shut, coaxed into unconsciousness by the drugs in his system and Wolffe’s gentle touches, and something twisted and aching in Rex’s chest relaxes.

Nothing in the Galaxy has been fixed, but it still makes everything feel a little bit better.

[in-love-with-darth-vader]

Star Wars as if it were like the Office! (Also i need a title, so if anyone has any ideas for that or any suggestions in general, let me know.

Also, sorry if this sucks. I don’t write very often nor have I ever written a screenplay type of thing before. I honestly just did this for fun!

PART 1

“Anakin, what are you doing?”

“I’m standing on the edge of this balcony.”

“Yes, I can see that. Why are you standing on the edge of that balcony?”

*pan to the chaos of Coruscant below; ships speeding in traffic, huge buildings, and an insanely long drop. Obi-Wan is standing behind Anakin on the part of the balcony that’s made to be stood on; Anakin is on the edge of the railing*

“Uh, well, some of the clones said there was no way that I could jump and land in one of the ships flying through the city, and I told them I definitely could, so here I am.”

*Obi-Wan looks to the camera in annoyance and disbelief; camera pans down to Anakin’s end point where Fives, Echo, and Jesse wave up to his position*

“Absolutely not. Get down from there right this instant!”

“Sorry, Master!”

*he jumps, and he is flying through the air for about two seconds when he suddenly freezes. Obi-Wan is looking down at him as he holds him mid air with the Force, slowly raising him back up to eye level*

“Anakin, you are twenty years old. Could you maybe start acting like it?”

*he drops him onto the floor; Anakin gets up and sulkingly follows Obi-Wan out of the room*

*this would be where the theme song and title card would go*

In the background: “yeah, so Obi-Wan refused to let me jump, so I had to come back here. Sorry you all waited for nothing”

*Obi-Wan turns to the camera*

So, does Anakin do this sort of thing frequently?

“Oh, yes. He doesn’t seem to care about safety or his own well-being. That’s the third time this month I’ve had to stop the Balcony Jump. And clearly I’m the only one who thinks these are bad ideas, so I’m always the one who has to step in. I swear I already have a few grey hairs from having to stop Anakin from doing something stupid so often.”

*back to normal scene*

“Alright, everyone gather around, we have a new mission to discuss.”

*anakin, ahsoka, and many of the clones from the 501st and 212th gather around Obi-Wan*

“The chancellor seems to think it’s a good idea for us to go investigate a possible takeover on Ryloth….” *fades out as we zoom in on Anakin clearly bored and not listening*

“I hate debriefings. When Obi-Wan does them he talks for forever. They’re too long, so I just tune him out and pretend like I know what I’m doing on the actual mission. When I tell the others what we’ve been assigned, I take 2 minutes tops. Master Obi-Wan stretches it into at least 10.”

*now to ahsoka*

“Yeah, Master Kenobi goes over every single detail in the mission log every single time. I’ve had to slap Anakin awake in the middle of a meeting too many times to count.”

*back to obi wan speaking to them all*

“So, we need to go in and investigate the distress signal’s purpose, mainly to see if it’s a separatist attack. Anakin, you’ll be positioned here and you’ll direct your troops to-Anakin?? Are you listening to me?”

*obi wan turns away from his whiteboard where he’s drawing out strategy to see Anakin staring slightly up at the ceiling. Anyone else wouldn’t have noticed, but Obi wan knows his past-padawan turned Jedi Knight too well*

“What? Oh, yeah, of course I am.”

*interview with obi wan*

“Anakin is a terrible liar. You’ll soon find that out.”

*switch to interview with Anakin*

“Luckily for me, I’m an amazing liar, so I’m not worried.”

*back to the scene. Obi-Wan has his hands on his hips in his judgmental pose™️ facing Anakin*

“Oh really? Then what did I just tell you to do?”

“Uhhh I have to hold my position, lead the 501st, all that jazz”

“Mhm and where is this all going down?”

“Uh, Iridonia of course.”

“You literally could not be more incorrect.”

*obi wan int.*

“Told you so.”

*anakin int.*

“Okay, in my defense, there’s thousands of planets. I had like a 1% chance of guessing correctly.”

*back to the scene*

“Ryloth, Anakin. Ryloth is where we’re going. A distress call was detected coming from the planet, and since the Separatists have a history of meddling with the peace of Ryloth and its citizens, we were instructed to go inspect. I will not repeat myself again. That is all, everyone get ready. You’re dismissed.”

*interview with Rex; clones preparing armor and weapons in the background*

So, are you kind of like the leader of the clones around here?

“Uh, I’m the captain of the 501st Battalion under General Skywalker’s command. I follow his orders and then lead my brothers to execute those orders. We’re one of the most successful groups of clones, so I take great pride in-“

*rex is interrupted as the camera switches focus to the background where Jesse Kix and Fox are all at each other’s throats. They’re stealing each other’s helmets and tossing them around. Rex turns to look*

(Sigh) “as I was saying…I take great pride in our success and professionalism.”

“Rex!”

“Sorry, gotta go do my job now.”

*they board the ships and head off to Ryloth*

*camera switches to Anakin on Ryloth*

“Can we please leave now?”

“Absolutely not, Anakin. We still aren’t quite certain what set off the alarm.”

“It was probably just an accident. There’s nothing here, Master. Ahsoka, back me up.”

*ahsoka is looking down at and messing with a data pad clearly not listening to Anakin*

“What? Oh, uh, yeah. Totally.”

“Were you even listening to me?! I was speaking to you, Ahsoka. Can I get a little bit of respect please?”

*obi wan looks at the camera like ‘are you fucking kidding me’*

“Listen, Master, I started to tune you out like an hour ago. All you’ve done is complain.”

“Because there’s nothing here! I want to go home!”

“You just want to get back to Coruscant in time to go to that party for the senators.”

“What??????!?!?? That’s absurd, master. Absolutely preposterous. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

*cut to Anakin*

“Okay, I know exactly what he’s talking about, but I can’t admit it! There’s this politician gathering tonight and normally I wouldn’t be one to willingly seek out social gatherings-especially one full of politicians-but Padme is going and she asked if I would come. So of course I said yes. Also, they usually have those little cocktail weenies, so no way I’m missing that.”

*cut to obi wan*

“Anakin is terrible at hiding things, especially from me. He clearly wants to get back so he can go to the party tonight with Senator Amidala.”

Any reason why he’d want to go with her so bad?

“Oh, yes, you see my former Padawan thinks he’s sly, but as we all know he’s a terrible liar. He’s been pining after the senator since he was a boy. I assumed it would pass by now, but clearly he’s still infatuated with her. They’re very good friends but he still has his teenage crush on her. It’s very unprofessional.”

Will you be attending it as well?

“Oh, no. I’m not one for politics.”

*back to the scene*

“What? Master why are you going to that stupid thing? You hate those types of parties! Plus, last I checked, you are not a politician.”

*cut to Anakin*

“So I’ve never actually told Ahsoka about my secret relationship with Padmé…”

*back to the scene*

“Uhhhhh because I’m good friends with the Chancellor, obviously. He would like me there to….to talk about strategies. Yes. Strategies for the Republic.”

“At a formal gathering for politicians? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

“...you’re asking way too many questions, Snips. We have a mission to focus on! You’re better than this!”

*ahsoka looks suspiciously at him as obi wan shakes his head at the two of them*

“Now that you’re done bickering, will you two please go explore the blocked off caverns for any possible signs of life?”

*both, simultaneously and clearly annoyed*

“Yes, Master.”

——-

“You know, there’s nothing in these caves. He just wanted us out of his hair. He’s just keeping us busy.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Because I don’t sense anything. There’s nothing in here.”

“Master Kenobi told us to do it, so that’s what we’re gonna do.”

“So you listen to all of his orders but not mine?”

“Well, Obi-Wan doesn’t lie to me, so yes.”

“Psh. Pssshh. I’m not lying to you...that’s ridiculous.”

“It’s not. Tell me the real reason you’re going to that party! I know that you’re lying!”

“I’m absolutely telling the truth. I don’t know why you’re so adamant about this. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh please. Whenever you lie you start using big words and you talk faster than normal. Just tell me the truth!”

“Fine. My friend Senator Amidala was allowed to bring someone and since we’re friends she asked me if I would like to come along too. So I said yes.”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it? Makes sense why you’re so anxious about it.”

“Whatta you mean?”

“Oh, nothing, it’s just that you’re going to a party as the Senator’s plus one which she asked you to. It’s definitely a date.”

“Whaaaaaaaatt. It’s not a date. That’s ludicrous! We’re just friends. Plus, I’m a Jedi. We can’t go on dates!”

“Right, and you don’t have a crush on her.”

“I don’t have a crush on her! We’re friends! It’s extremely platonic.”

*int. With Anakin*

“Okay, so it’s not platonic. But I don’t have a crush on her because I’m married to her! If I tell her that I willingly break the Jedi Code whenever I want, then maybe she will too! And then what kind of Master would I be?!?!”

I thought you technically weren’t a Jedi Master.

*zooms in on anakin’s ‘I will fuckin kill you’ face”

*back to the scene*

“Right, and I don’t secretly steal your jackets when you’re sleeping when I’m cold.”

“What?”

“What?!”

“.....look, can we just get back to the mission?”

“Sure thing, Skyguy. Wait till Master Kenobi hears about this.”

*under his breath* “pretty sure he already knows...”

*scene switch to obi wan, he’s with Cody and many other clones. They’re in a room in one of the government buildings on Ryloth surrounding a beacon device. It’s a distress signal activator.*

“And you’re sure you didn’t do this, Mr. Syndulla?”

“No, Master Kenobi. I only use the distress beacon for serious emergencies. I have no clue as to who did this. There aren’t many people that have access, and it’s not something that just anyone can do by accident. You must enter a code and confirm multiple times.”

“Thank you for the information. Will you let us inspect the fortress for any intruders?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Thank you. Cody, take Waxer, Boil, and Gearshift to the west wing. Gregor, you and your troops take the left. Myself and Crys will start here. Report back if you find anything.”

“Sir yes sir!”

*we see Obi-Wan and Crys searching first. They stayed in the room where the beacon is kept. Obi-Wan is looking through digital records as Crys is underneath it looking at its internal parts like those scenes where someone is laying on a skateboard to fix a car*

“This is strange. There’s no trace of tampering with the records or files. Nothing was wiped. This doesn’t seem like sabotage or a distraction for something bigger. Crys, do you have anything?”

*crys rolls out from under the beacon*

“No, sir. Everything is wired and hooked up properly. No signs of sabotage or demolition.”

“Hmm.”

*Int. With Crys*

“I’m really good with robots and droids, so that’s probably why General Kenobi wanted me to tag along with him. Usually he takes Cody, but this is more of my field of expertise.”

*back to the scene*

“This is trivial indeed.” *he’s doing his beard stroke* “I wonder if the others have found anything.”

*switch over to gregor and his troops. They’re searching the left wing of the fortress. They’ve been interviewing many citizens of Ryloth. They’re not very successful*

“I don’t see the point in talking to anyone else. I doubt they’re gonna know anything. We should report back to the general.”

*int with Gregor*

So, Gregor, can you give us a little summary of what you do around here?

“Yeah, sure thing. Uh, I’m kind of like third in command here. I’m a captain in the 212th Battalion and that’s pretty much all there is to it.”

Your helmet is very interesting. It’s pretty unique compared to the rest of your brothers.

“Oh, this? Some clones have tallies, but these represent stitches.” *he points to em* “It’s basically just showing how many injuries I’d have and how many stitches I would’ve gotten if I didn’t have the helmet. I think it’s pretty cool.”

*back to the scene. They’ve found nothing*

“Yeah, I’ll comm the general.”

*gregor taps into his comms and contacts Obi-Wan*

“Gregor, have you found anything?”

“No, general, I called to report that we’ve found nothing out of place. The twi’leks we’ve interviewed seem like they know nothing. How about you?”

“No, sadly we’ve come across nothing either. The beacon hasn’t been tampered with whatsoever.”

“We’ll keep looking around. I’ll keep you updated.”

*he hangs up the comm*

“Alright, boys, let’s keep going!”

*we now cut to Waxer and Boil being lead by Cody. They’re going door to door in the right wing where the rooms are located asking questions*

“This is leading us nowhere, Commander.”

“I know, Boil, but General Kenobi told us to inspect the entire right wing. We only have three more rooms to do. Let’s go.”

“Fine.”

*they knock at the next door*

“Hello?”

“Hello, ma’am. My name is Commander Cody of the 212th Attack Battalion. We’re on a mission here from the Jedi council. The distress beacon gave off a signal earlier today and we were wondering if you knew anything about it.”

“I’m very sorry I can’t be of any help to you, Commander, but I know nothing.”

*suddenly, a small child comes running down the hallway laughing. She trips and falls and scrapes her knee.*

“hey, are you okay?”

“Waxer you know that’s not how you talk to a child!”

“I’m sorry! You know I get awkward around kids. Why do we always find a runaway child when we’re on Ryloth? Like, how has this actually happened twice?”

*boil ignores him and kneels down to the kid*

“Hey there. My name is Boil. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

*she looks a bit frightened still. Boil realizes he still has his helmet on so he takes it off.*

“Sorry about that. Is it okay if I patch up your knee? I keep bandages on me, you can even pick the color if you want.”

“...okay. Blue please.”

“Blue it is. So, why were you running so fast? Is anything chasing you?”

“No. I was just looking for my papa. And I’m bored. I played with his fun machine today.”

“His machine, huh?”

*the three clones look at each other with a look™️ and Cody comms obi wan*

“General? I think we found your culprit”

——————

“‘Wow Anakin, you’re such a genius. It’s almost as if you were right all along!’ ‘Why thank you, Master. I knew I was right, and now we can go home even though we could’ve earlier.’ ‘Yes, you’re so right. We should’ve listened to you the whole time-“

“Anakin, are you finished?”

“‘we should make you a master on the council. I admire you.’ Now I’m finished.”

“Oh, give it a rest, Master. We get it, you’re right, now let’s get you home for your date.”

*anakin freezes and turns slowly. They’ve been walking up the ramp to board their ship when ahsoka said that. Anakin is now very red in the face*

“....what. What are you talking about snips??!! I don’t have a date. I don’t date. I’m just attending a senator party with the Chancellor. A date. Psh. Psh.”

“But you told me-“

“LETS GET ON THE SHIP, AHSOKA!”

*obi wan just rolls his eyes as they board the ship*

*We’re back to Coruscant!*

“Finally, we’re home. I’m so tired from all the nothing we did.”

“Oh, Anakin, you are such a drama queen. We did our mission like we were supposed to. Now, can I please speak to you in private?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Even though you have complained a lot today, I still care about you Anakin, and I know you made a promise to someone else already. So, I will go inform the Jedi Council that this was a false alarm by myself. Maybe I’ll take your Padawan. But you, my friend, should go get ready for your senator party.”

*anakin hugs obi wan*

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. I owe you one.”

*anakin goes up to his apartment on Coruscant where Padme is; she’s on their couch reading something and already dressed when anakin comes in*

“I’m back! I’m finally back!”

“Hello to you too Anakin. I was hoping they’d let you out. You’re cutting it close this time.”

“I’m so sorry. We had to go to Ryloth for no reason and Obi-Wan wouldn’t let me leave until we knew for sure what happened.”

“Well, I’m glad you made it in time.”

“Me too. Obi-Wan is letting me skip the debriefing for this.”

*he goes to change into his formal clothes for the party. Padme is already wearing one of her super rad fancy senator outfits. Anakin has an all black suit cause you know he’s that guy™️.

*int with Padme*

“Anakin has missed a lot of these outings with me due to Jedi business, so I wasn’t expecting him to actually be here for this one. I’m glad he is. I don’t see him as often as I wish I did.”

Do you ever think of asking him to leave the Jedi Order then?

“Oh, no. Absolutely not. I would never ask him to give up his life like that. And I don’t want that either. He’s a great Jedi and he loves what he does. I would never try to take that away from him.”

*back to scene. Now they’re walking down the halls of the senate building on their way to the party*

“So, get this, Ahsoka is convinced that I have a crush on you and that this is a date.”

“I mean, she’s not exactly wrong, is she?”

“Well, no, but I don’t really have a crush on you since, you know, we’re married. And she meant date as in ‘you invited me to this thing but we’re not together but in her eyes, it’s a date’ kind of thing.”

“Hmm so she still doesn’t know?”

“No. I can’t bring myself to tell her. I love her, but I don’t want to taint her mind and views of the Jedi Code and council. It wouldn’t be fair.”

“A very good point. You’re a good Master, Anakin.”

“Thanks.”

*they then enter the party. Many political figures from across the galaxy are there already. Its purpose is unknown to us, but it is clear that it’s important but also not too serious. They speak with many different people included Palpatine. We have yet to actually speak to him yet. Anakin is eventually over near the snack table, a drink in his hand and another one being handed off to Padme*

“Here you go. It’s your favorite.”

“Thank you. So, are you having fun yet?”

“Well, I don’t think I’ll ever have fun hanging around any politicians but you, but it’s not so bad. Plus, these snacks are really good.”

*padme rolls her eyes but laughs at him*

“It’s nice for us all to get together like this. It’s important for the Republic.”

“Mm, indeed.”

*they continue chatting until Anakin notices someone across the room. Fancy blue outfit. Blonde hair up in a bun. He doesn’t notice who it really is until she comes a bit closer. He does the pikachu face and drops his drink, luckily catching it midair with the force as he apologizes to those around him*

“Anakin?? Are you okay? What was that for?”

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be here!”

“Who?”

*he points to her by nudging his head in her direction hoping Padme will see who he’s talking about*

“Her? That’s my friend Satine. She’s the Duchess of Mandalore. She’s-wait a minute, how do you know her??!?”

“Nothing bad, I assure you. I’m actually quite fond of her. I just wish I knew sooner!”

“Why?”

“Because that, my love, is Obi-Wan’s girlfriend.”

END of this part.

Part2

——

[a-dorin]

under the same stars

pairing: august moor x darth maul 

word count: 3.043k

warnings: some cursing, angst, canon typical violence (lightsabers, confrontations), the start of some yearning, a naive jedi, a slight age gap

a/n: this is a rewrite of my old oc series, under the same stars! i hope you guys like this version more, as i will be deleting the old one. let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist! i love these together a little too much already. 

“again,” a voice commanded, “i want to see that combat technique once more. obi-wan, i advise you to keep your right arm tucked in, more towards your body. if it juts out any more, she would be able to notice that, and use that to her advantage.”

“do we really have to do this one more time?” a padawan tucked his braid behind his ear, scorn laced in his tone, “she is not playing fair, master. she’s using her abilities.”

“there’s no playing fair in battle, obi-wan,” a brunette piped up, clipping her saber to her belt, “are you just jealous that someone seven years your junior is going to be made a jedi knight in just a few short months?”

the senior padawan snorted, rolling his eyes, “anything else you wish to rub in my face? your tactics aren’t working on me this time, august.”

a sly smirk crept across the brunette’s features as she folded her arms across her chest, “yeah, well, i still would like to share a few bits here and there. oh, also how you just got your ass handed to you back there--”

“that is enough.”

eyes darted to the jedi master as he glowered over them, shaking his head, “i am aware that it may be difficult for the two of you to train together, especially with the age difference. however, i expect the two of you to be nothing but civil and respectful to one another. you both are gifted in your own ways. obi-wan, you are an excellent fighter, with clean and precise movement. august, you are more gifted with the ways of the force. yet, if you were to be paired for a mission, your petty bickering would only hold you back. nothing would be accomplished.”

“my apologies master,” the brunette mumbled, shifting uneasily, “it won’t happen again.”

qui-gon exhaled, bringing a hand to his temple, “you say that every instance but clearly the issue remains unresolved. if the two of you are to become jedi knights, you must embrace all aspects of the code, along with the ways of the force.”

“yes master,” obi-wan hung his head low, “i have failed you.”

“there is no such thing as failure,” the jedi’s voice softened, “you will learn how to handle your emotions in time, obi-wan. the path to become a jedi is not one that is easy, nor accomplished in a matter of years. it is a lifetime journey.”

“are we dismissed now?” 

qui-gon’s head swiveled over to august, his eyes narrowing, “august, did i say that you were dismissed?”

“master windu and master buir requested my presence for tea,” for a moment, august’s demeanor cracked under her master’s harsh inquiry, “i told them that i would go after training.”

“after the spat you just had with obi-wan, i do not believe you deserve to be let off the hook.”

“do i get to go meet with seraphine for tea?” obi-wan cleared his throat, fiddling with the sleeves of his robes.

“absolutely not,” qui-gon’s response was immediate, “i believe i have the perfect assignment for the two of you.”

obi-wan’s lips parted, his eyes widening, “master, please, if anything, we can resolve our issues at a later time--”

“i want you to patrol the streets of coruscant tonight,” qui-gon folded his arms across his chest, as if he was challenging his padawans to interject, “you will work together. i will remain here at the temple, but i have complete faith in both of you. if you report back to me with a single singed robe, or a hair out of place from scrapping, i will extend the punishment. do you understand?”

“we’re not officers,” august sneered, “we’re--”

“jedi,” qui-gon finished, “keepers of peace.”

“no tea time for august tonight,” obi-wan let out a chuckle. 

“and no tea with your girlfriend, either,” august spat, a whine rising in her throat, “master, can we please have separate punishments? i’m already tired of obi-wan’s droning.”

“pouting will get you nowhere,” qui-gon’s lips curled in a grin, his gaze twinkling with amusement, “i advise the two of you leave the temple at once. night is beginning to fall. when night comes, that is when the scorn of the universe emerges from the shadows.”

“fine,” august huffed, straightening her sleeve, “come on, obi-wan, let’s get this over with.”

“don’t you fret,” obi-wan countered, throwing on an earthy-toned cloak, “i’m counting down the hours until sunrise.”

as the two parted from the temple, the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an orange glow over coruscant. the moon was high in the sky, waxing towards a full moon. soon, the stars would be out, dancing across the night. soon, the shades of lilac, burgundy, cyan, and tangerine would be replaced by a rich navy blue. 

silence fell over the pair of padawans as they descended from the stairs, the only sound the echo of their footsteps. as much as august ached to fly a small shuttle around for the night, qui-gon felt it was best that they remain on foot, where they could not be easily recognized in a crowd. 

which, a night with obi-wan was the last night august wanted. especially on a gorgeous summer night like this. 

stars glittered above, beginning to dot the sky, a sense of bliss rippling through august as she made the trek towards the sprawling array of streets, skyscrapers, and speeders. yet, that bliss was quickly replaced with dread as the lights of the city began to shine, shrouding the skyline. 

“are you all right? you’re still wearing that frown from earlier,” obi-wan inquired, his tone apprehensive. 

august sucked in a breath, her brows furrowing, “why do you care, obi-wan? you want nothing more than to spite me. i don’t ever recall a time where you actually showed me an ounce of respect for me or my emotions.” 

“i am aware,” the padawan exhaled, “although you are one to wear your emotions on your sleeve, i can sense a bit of turmoil within you. are you that upset about spending a few hours with your fellow trainee?”

“i would rather have a cup of tea with a sith than spend the night with you.”

the bustle of life began to fill obi-wan’s ears, the whoosh of ships, the hum of lights, as well as the dialects of a variety of species. he choked back a swift rebuttal, clamping his lips shut. 

yet, it was only moments later when her voice flooded his ears once more, so soft and quiet. 

“i’m sorry.”

“sorry?” obi-wan echoed, “for what?”

“you know exactly what i’m apologizing for,” her voice hardened, “don’t be coy with me, kenobi.”

an amused smirk formed on the padawan’s lips as he glanced at august momentarily. her gaze  was focused on the surrounding scenery, as they were beginning to make their way towards a marketplace. her brow was furrowed, plush lips drawn together, as if she was deep in thought. yet, the warm glow of lights softened her features. 

underneath the hood of her cloak, her brunette hair was woven into an intricate half-down, half-up style, earrings dangling from her ears. free strands of hair swayed along with the breeze, her blue eyes glimmering with the reflection of coruscant. obi-wan swallowed thickly, careful not to stare a second longer. her eyes shifted, falling on the padawan. 

“you’ve been surprisingly quiet tonight. is there something on your mind?”

“no,” obi-wan shook his head quickly, “i’m just taking it all in. this is one of my first solo missions, you know.” 

“first time qui-gon’s letting you off a leash, huh?” august smirked, shooting obi-wan a wink.

obi-wan scoffed, waving a hand to deflect her statement, “i have undergone several successful solo missions, just so you know.”

a chuckle bubbled up in august’s throat, “oh, is that so? are you sure they were successful?”

“yes,” he retaliated, “how many solo missions have you been on, august moor?”

“a few,” she shrugged, “however, i did not need qui-gon’s permission. i was assigned to them by the council.”

“oh,” obi-wan mused, “august followed the councils’ wishes for once in her life.” 

“at least i’m not a pushover like you, always groveling at the council’s feet,” august snorted, rolling her eyes, “do you ever wonder if the jedi are always the divine beings they claim they are?”

“you’re beginning to worry me,” obi-wan retorted, “you’re talking like a sith, august.”

“i am just speaking what’s on my mind,” she exhaled, her hand gravitating towards the hilt of her saber, “you don’t ever think about what would happen if you didn’t seek the route of a jedi? if you were just a normal, ordinary being on your home planet? don’t those thoughts keep you up late at night? do you ever just ponder? do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you were gifted with the force but did not follow any sort of code?”

“it’s not like we were given a choice in the matter, august,” the senior padawan observed, “we were taken to the temple as younglings. however, you must recall that jedi who are one with the force do not chose whether or not we possess these capabilities. we are born with them, as we are chosen by the force to bring balance to the universe.”

august groaned, “spare me the bullshit, obi-wan. you sound more and more like qui-gon every day.”

“is that such a bad thing?” obi-wan arched a brow. 

“i’m just so tired of all of this mumbo-jumbo bullshit about the jedi and all of the regulations we have to follow,” she threw her arms up in the air, “it’s all so pointless and for what? to hold some title because we’re gifted with capabilities that others do not have?”

obi-wan paused, his eyes noticing a cloaked figure slinking through the shadows, “august, wait. do you see that fellow over there?”

august stopped in her tracks, a shudder coursing through her body, “o-obi-wan, it got all cold all of the sudden.”

his jaw clenched, the aura of the air shifting around them. tension crackled, the hairs on his neck prickling his skin, “don’t worry, i feel it too. would you like me to follow him, or would you like to take the lead on this one?”

“you’re the senior padawan here,” august muttered, fingers curling around her saber, “but, i guess i’ll take charge. i’ll comm you in case i run into any trouble.”

“be careful,” obi-wan’s hand grazed her wrist, “please, come back in one piece.”

“i will,” august nodded, “i promise you that, obi-wan.”

it was almost as if her senses blurred the moment she went in pursuit. blood roared in her ears as her heart pounded, the noise swirling in her ears almost static. her sense of smell was flooded with the burning stench of pollution, garbage, and murky water. 

her thoughts were clouded, skull throbbing as she inched closer and closer, her knuckles nearly white as she gripped the hilt, “hey! stop!”

abruptly, the figure turned into an alleyway. he was swathed in darkness, the embodiment of a living shadow. under the veil of his hood, august could feel his gaze piercing through her, picking her apart, tearing her open. 

dangerously intelligent, unforgiving, cold eyes. 

pools of amber, flowing effortlessly into a ring of scarlet irises, luminescent in the night. 

leather gloves wrapped around the hem of the hood, pulling it down to reveal the identity of the strange creature. someone who august felt compelled to follow, drawn in by the pull of the force. 

he was a zabrak, ivory horns protruding from his skull. his skin was a crimson hue, black tattoos interwoven across his features. with sharp cheekbones, along with a strong nose, he was given a menacing aura. the gleam of silver caught august’s eye, instinctively drawing her saber, igniting it. 

in the distance, thunder rolled, the atmosphere thickening. a droplet of rain sizzled as it met with the blade of her saber, the violet hue illuminating her face. clenching her jaw, she gritted her teeth, spitting out the inquiry once more. 

“i thought i told you to stop. why didn’t you?”  

the zabrak’s lips curled into a sinister grin, flashing his incisors as he drew his own saber, the blade an eerie scarlet color, “i cannot believe it. a jedi has fallen directly into my hands. what should i do with you?”

“i am no jedi,” august growled, adrenaline coursing through her veins. 

the sincerity in her statement sparked interest within the zabrak. cocking his head, his eyes narrowed into slits, “you’re not with the jedi, yet you’re here on coruscant? what are you then? are you a rogue? a jedi plaything?”

“i am only training to become one,” the girl averted the zabrak’s gaze, keeping her saber drawn, “who are you? you have ten seconds to tell me your name and business here.” 

“like i would be terrified of you,” the zabrak’s voice was hot with scorn, “i am maul and i have no business here other than a meeting.” 

august inhaled sharply, “where are you from? i want to see your credentials. the senate was not meeting tonight, so there’s no real reason you should be here.”

“who are you?” the zabrak did not move a single muscle, maintaining his demeanor, “i believe it’s only fair you give me your name, little one.”

“my name is august moor,” the girl shifted uneasily, nearly panting. 

maul closed his eyes, reaching out to august. as the wind rolled through the streets, the rain nearly washing away her scent as it fell in heavy sheets. however, he could pick out the faint scent of rose, the sweetness of blossoms. 

his breath hitched in his throat, as her emotions consumed him entirely. he could sense her fear, her anxiety, “you’re anxious. why are you anxious?”

“because i don’t know who you are and you’re picking me apart. you’re a force user, aren’t you?” august retaliated, her tone indignant. 

maul opened his eyes, noticing august’s features for the first time. her skin was pale, with undertones of pink, a blush tinging her cheeks. droplets fell from her jawline, dripping onto her robes.

her eyes were a shade of gray, hints of blue swimming within their depths. they were innocent and naive, eyes that were not quite haunted by the horrors of a lifetime. her brunette hair was down, with a braid woven around her head. strands of hair poked up, more than likely from the summer storm.  

tit was without a doubt that she was beautiful, even if maul didn’t know a single thing about her. through the black cloak, she was donned in a grey tunic, royal blue fabric wrapped around her chest. 

“don’t be scared,” maul murmured, the blades of his saber retracting as he stuck out a hand, “i am not going to kill you, little one. that would be unnecessary. my business here is not to harm you or bring you any harm.” 

august clipped her hilt back to her belt, letting out a shaky breath, “i-i don’t know if i should trust you.”

a shiver ran down the zabrak’s spine as he reached out, “you’re going to catch a cold, little one. i advise you head back to your temple, where it’s warm and dry.”

“who are you to tell what i can and cannot do?” 

maul’s brow furrowed, “you are right, but this storm is not going to end for a while.”

in her cloak, a comm beeped, signaling that obi-wan was attempting to contact her. august flinched, “i-i should go.”

“it would be wise,” the zabrak hummed, throwing his hood up once more. he took a step forward, grasping august’s chin with his glove. drops of water reflected on her lips as the pad of his thumb brushed them away. 

“next time, stay out of the rain, little one.”

within seconds, august was alone in the alleyway, the ghost of his touch consuming her whole. 

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

august shot up, her heart thudding in her chest as she glanced wildly around her quarters, pulling the blanket to her chest, feeling as if the entire incident was just a dream. a wild, vivid, intense dream. rising to her feet, she took a hesitant step towards the viewport, her knees wobbling. the moon was high in the sky, signaling that a few hours had past. the storm broke, white, fluffy clouds sailing through the sky. 

meanwhile, a zabrak rose to his feet, a dull throbbing in his skull. his muscles ached, sore from hours of combat training. he let out a few, ragged breaths, attempting to clear his cloudy mind. the encounter with the padawan must have been a nightmare, or rather, an interesting daydream. whatever it was, his master, darth sidious could never hear about this. he could never find the truth.

yet, when darth maul strolled down the corridor of his ship, a feeling of loneliness unraveled. he couldn’t help but feel an engrained feeling of sadness, laced with regret. 

glancing out the viewport, maul gazed at the horizon stretched before him. an endless array of stars glittered, shining bright. 

huffing, august shivered as a draft entered the space, the chill seeping through her clothing. yet, she couldn’t help but give the sky above her one last look, taking in the way the stars twinkled. 

two lost souls stared at the stars, wondering if the other knew. 

august slipped underneath her sheets, her eyelids heavy. she dozed off, dreaming of her encounter from earlier. the meeting was a pure coincidence. surely there was no driving force behind it. it was all a simple daydream or fever dream. 

darth maul felt exhaustion rack his body, almost collapsing to the floor. he was tired, as he practiced combat technique for hours after arriving back to his ship. yet, this was a new wave of sleep overcoming him. the zabrak crawled to his bed, dreaming about his interaction with the padawan. 

more than anything, he wanted to permanently ingrain the image of her in his memories, her beauty captivating. he wanted to remember the way her eyes glimmered in the rain, how she admired him momentarily. 

a sith and jedi’s paths intertwined, under the same stars.