#GALACTIC WAVE. WHEN I GET YOU GALACTIC WAVE

[beperoncin]

ik i'm not gonna make it. i'm already stressed because of the semifinals and it's only the first main round

i'm only at second place and the player at first scored 900m

which doesn't sound like much but YOU FUCKING LOSE A HEART IF YOU'RE BELOW FIRST. THEY SHOULD JUST HAVE YOU LOSE HEARTS AT THIRD IN THE MAINS IDK. I'M NOT DEVSISTERS I DON'T CONTROL HOW THE GCL WORKS

I'M LOOKING AT OTHER PLAYERS' RUNS AND I HAVE NEITHER CHOCO BAR NOR BUTTER SQUID'S COSTUMES SO I SCORE LESS

I AM KINDA MAD

I JUST WANT THOSE 1.5K GCL TOKENS. PLEASE. I NEED IT FOR LEMON MY POOKIE WOOKIE COOKIE BEAR

ragepost kinda aside. I HOPE MAIN ROUND 2 IS BETTER AND I ACTUALLY GET FIRST BECAUSE MY GOD AM I FRUSTRATED AF

i shouldn't worry too much. hopefully i manage to score first in at least one round which isn't extremely likely but i'll try :>

[eorzeashan]

I know every agent after the class story makes that joke about how they're jobless and homeless, but it only settled in for me how Eight feels about it after I finished Secrets of the Enclave as well.

He was definitely bouncing between masters and jobs, with the latest being the SIS and the CEDF (mostly Saganu), which I like to joke that Saganu is like his foster stepdad who lets this delinquent crash on his couch with an open-door policy when he gets fired from his job or his latest adventures don't pan out despite being 10 years older than him max, but he's on the fence about whether either of these places are really where he wants to stay. I also like to picture Eight laying down on a fancy chaise lounge like he's seeing a shrink whenever he visits Saganu who is also sitting in a nearby chair and tiredly asking what he wants to do with his life from here, lol.

The SIS...has been lackluster. It's been interesting getting to work for them and better with encouragement from Theron, but he can't see himself doing it long term and he's already pissed off every Sith in 2 square miles after about 2-3 jaunts in Imp space. The war was never very meaningful to him, and he gets the sense that it'll die down soon if it gets left alone without him fanning the flames.

The Chiss are home too, but that's complicated, and he knows he's not one of them. He'll never be despite all that he's done for their people. Theirs is a proud race and even if Saganu and Nosta swear House Miurani will always hold him in high esteem, he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst their populace and the intricacies of their society elude him. Not to mention someone with such a violent past as his doesn't quite fit in their non-confrontational policies, and he only does private hits to get around loopholes for Saganu. (I'm still livid I didn't record the stupid little blaster twirl and grin he did after shooting Syndic Zenta point blank as if he didn't just kill somebody in cold blood. Stop showing off.) As much as he could peacefully eke out his days in their service, it's dull to him and neither he nor Nosta have gotten over their psychological traumas enough to face each other fully.

The Alliance in his storyline is also effectively disbanded immediately after the Traitor Arc, so he has no home there in the first place-- along with mostly negative connotations. Lana and Theron will always nab him if given the chance, but all three of them need space after the garbage fire of an alliance they made.

So what is he doing now besides having an identity crisis?

This doesn't help the growing list of random jobs he's hopped on and off, but I actually feel as if...he could be recruited by the Imperial Reclamation Service. By temporary contract of one Talos Drellik, because if there's one thing those archaeologists are in short supply of, it's muscle. Eight would be shocked too when given the offer: "do I look like a researcher to you?" and Talos would cheerfully deflect by pointing out his thirst for understanding Sith like Jadus and his own affinity with the Dark Side, to which Eight has no rebuttal.

It's true; he does secretly dream of a world where everyone can communicate and connect with one another through the Force, or non-Force users can co-exist with Force-users without being shut out from one another. Jadus' protection allows him to be incorruptible from places steeped in the Dark Side, and he's a rare and capable agent who would be better protection than a Sith who would most likely steal artifacts for their benefit rather than help the Service reclaim them.

And, Talos would add, you might find that preventing and safekeeping relics of untold power is not unlike saving the galaxy from conspiracy, my friend. The Reclamation Service battles entire legions of separate armies in a relic arms race each day! You'll never want for excitement and bloodshed, if that is your calling.

Eight would harumph, but he'd cave; he's rather weak to the thrill of adventure that means something to him for once. And if it helps him reconnect or eventually reunite with Jadus, who is out there somewhere...well, he'll take any chance.

[julietsf1]

Frights & Feuds (🎃) - Franco Colapinto x Reader

summary: Y/N and Franco never liked each other, but leave it to Lando to throw them into matching costumes at his Halloween party.

warnings: smut!! mdni!!!

AN: so I’ve figured out that I can’t follow anyone back as this is my secondary blog! no moots, just vibes 😔 but wanted to say I really love all the sweet comments I’ve gotten on the last few posts!! I’m traveling for work rn so I might be a bit less responsive, but I appreciate them so much, makes my day! anyway here’s something new <3

___________________________________________

The salty breeze hit my face as I stepped onto Lando’s yacht, excitement bubbling in my chest. A Star Wars-themed Halloween party—on a yacht, no less—was basically a dream come true. I mean, who wouldn't want to channel their inner galactic hero for a night? My white jumpsuit, the one Padmé wore in Attack of the Clones, was snug in all the right places, and with the plastic blaster on my hip, I actually felt like I could take on an army of battle droids.

The yacht itself, though… that was something else entirely.

It was like Halloween had exploded. Neon orange cobwebs, flickering plastic pumpkins, and inflatable ghosts swayed ominously in the breeze. If there was such a thing as too many decorations, Lando had found it and then doubled down. I couldn’t help but chuckle under my breath as I stepped onto the deck.

“It looks like Party City threw up,” I muttered, shaking my head in amusement. Somehow, that made it perfect. Only Lando could pull off something this chaotic and get away with it.

I wasn’t mad though—this level of over-the-top was what I’d come to expect from him. It was chaotic, ridiculous, and, in its own weird way, perfect. The kind of vibe that told you anything could happen tonight, and honestly? That was exactly what I’d signed up for.

I made my way through the growing crowd, dodging people dressed in costumes so random they made me question if we were even at the same party. Carlos strutted by in his sexy fireman outfit, suspenders barely clinging to his shoulders, a grin stretched across his face.

“Senator,” he said with a mock salute, flexing unnecessarily as he passed.

I laughed. “Carlos, put those away. No one's here to see that.”

“Oh, they are. Trust me.” He winked and strutted off, clearly enjoying the attention.

Just ahead, I spotted Oscar, and… I had to blink twice. He had a slice of bread taped to his chest, and a gold medal swinging from his neck. “Breadwinner,” I muttered, shaking my head.

As I weaved through the madness, Alex clanked around in a robot suit that squeaked with every step. I waved at him, trying not to laugh too hard as his costume practically fell apart before my eyes.

I stopped in my tracks when I caught sight of Max. The world champion himself was dressed as an old lady, complete with a wig, glasses, and a cane. He was shuffling around like he had all the time in the world, and I could practically hear him muttering about “these young people” as he dodged a dancing Daniel, who was in full cowboy mode.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, barely able to contain my laughter as I snapped a quick photo for future blackmail.

Despite the absurdity of it all, the party was fun in that weird, chaotic way that only Lando could pull off. I could already tell it was going to be one of those nights where anything could happen.

Now, if only I could find the mastermind behind this whole mess.

I pushed my way through the crowd, determined to track down Lando and demand an explanation for why I was Padmé in a party full of random costumes. Finally, I spotted him at the bar, leaning casually against the counter in a football jersey, a lazy grin spread across his face.

“Lando!” I called, marching up to him with all the authority I could muster in the little jumpsuit. “We need to talk.”

He turned, his grin widening when he saw me. “Ah, Senator Amidala herself! You made it. Looking good, by the way.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “What is this? You told me this party had a Star Wars theme.”

Lando gave me a look of pure innocence, raising his hands. “I said you had a Star Wars theme. Everyone’s got their own thing going on.”

I blinked. “So, this—” I gestured around the deck, “—isn’t a themed party?”

“Nope!” He popped the “p” with a proud grin. “I thought it’d be more fun to give everyone different costumes. You know, shake things up a bit. Keep people on their toes.”

I groaned, but I couldn’t help laughing. “Of course you did. Why am I even surprised?”

“Come on, you love it,” Lando teased, throwing an arm around my shoulder. “It’s Halloween. You’re supposed to embrace the chaos.”

I snorted. “Chaos, yes. But coordinated chaos, at least. Can’t believe I’m the only one in full Star Wars gear.”

Lando’s grin stretched wider, that mischievous spark lighting up his eyes. “Well, not exactly the only one.”

Before I could even process what that meant, the crowd shifted, and I spotted him.

Franco Colapinto.

He was making his way across the deck, dressed head-to-toe as Anakin Skywalker, lightsaber strapped to his belt, the leather tunic pulling the whole look together in a way that made him stand out. Hair fluffy, stupid grin on his face and a little sparkle in his eyes. I felt a flutter in my stomach. Not because he looked so good—no, more like an annoyance flutter, obviously. Of all people, Lando had paired me with him?

I whipped around to face Lando, who was grinning ear to ear. “Lando. Why the hell is he Anakin?”

Lando laughed, hands up defensively. “Come on, it’s perfect! Padmé and Anakin? Star-crossed lovers, forbidden love, the whole deal. I’m a genius.”

My jaw clenched as I shot Lando a warning glare. “You’re an idiot.”

Franco reached us just as I was about to march off. “Really, Lando?” he said, his tone dripping with irritation. “You had to pair me up with her?”

I crossed my arms, irritation spiking. “Wow, I see you’re already embracing the Anakin vibe. Got the whole ‘whiny man baby’ thing down perfectly.” I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow. “What’s next, you gonna throw a tantrum?”

His smirk faltered for a split second before he shot back. “You’d know all about being dramatic, wouldn’t you, Senator?”

I crossed my arms, my annoyance flaring. “Oh please, just so you know, no one’s thrilled about this.”

He shot me an exasperated look. “Right, because being stuck with me is so unbearable.”

“Pretty high on the list, actually,” I shot back, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Lando, sensing the tension but clearly loving every second of it, grinned even wider. “Look at this! You two are just proving my point.”

“There is no vibe,” Franco and I said in unison, whipping around to glare at Lando. I could feel my cheeks burning as Franco’s gaze flicked toward me, clearly enjoying the fact that we’d said the same thing at the same time.

Lando, ever the shit-stirrer, shrugged. “Sure, whatever you say. But come on, you guys have been bickering for months. It’s exhausting. Just fuck and get it over with.”

Franco scoffed, folding his arms. “Throw me overboard, please.”

I laughed, feeling a bit of satisfaction at his remark. “Same.”

Lando wiggled his eyebrows. “See? Perfect match.”

I was ready to smack the grin off his face. Instead, I opted for a glare. “Lando, there is no match. You’ve been watching too many movies.”

Franco glanced at me, that smug smile still tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Although I can’t blame him for thinking you’d fall for me. I look good tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, already done with this conversation. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Franco chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. I’ll leave the ideas to Norris here.”

Lando beamed as if he’d just won the lottery, clearly thrilled that his plan was working—at least in his mind. “This is gonna be fun.”

I huffed and turned on my heel, determined to find someone else to talk to. Anyone but Franco. Tonight was going to be a nightmare.

..

The thrum of music pulsed through the yacht, vibrating beneath my feet as I wove through the crowd, trying to shake off the lingering annoyance of my earlier encounter with Franco. But even surrounded by the chaos of Lando’s party, it was hard to ignore the nagging feeling that he was somewhere nearby, probably plotting his next move.

I spotted Charles near the bar, sipping something that was probably far too fancy for a Halloween party. He was still in his banana costume—because of course Lando would put him in something like that. And yet, somehow, Charles managed to pull it off, still looking unfairly attractive despite being dressed as a literal piece of fruit.

“Y/N!” he called, waving me over with a wide grin. “Come, dance with me!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I joined him, his infectious energy making it hard to stay in a bad mood. “You’re the only person who can make a banana look good, you know that?”

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “It’s a gift.”

The music shifted to something more upbeat, and before I could object, Charles pulled me onto the makeshift dance floor. We started moving to the rhythm, his goofy dance moves making me laugh as we twirled around the deck.

It was nice, a welcome distraction from the tension of earlier. That is, until I glanced across the floor and spotted Franco. He was dancing with Alexandra St. Mleux, Charles’s girlfriend, who was dressed as a blueberry—because apparently, that’s what Lando had decided was her fate for the night. Her sleek, dark hair framed her face, and despite the ridiculous costume, she looked effortlessly elegant, as always.

Franco, meanwhile, was his usual smug self, moving with a confidence that grated on my nerves. His eyes met mine briefly, and I could practically see the challenge flash in them. Of course, he couldn’t just leave me in peace.

“Don’t look now,” Charles whispered, leaning in as we twirled closer to Franco and Alexandra, “but I think someone’s trying to make you jealous.”

I rolled my eyes. “Jealous? Please. If anything, I’m just annoyed I have to see his face all night.”

Charles chuckled softly. “Whatever you say.”

We danced around the floor, Charles keeping things light and fun while Franco, predictably, kept throwing glances my way. It was like we were locked in some kind of silent competition, neither of us willing to back down or show any sign of weakness.

Eventually, the two pairs ended up near each other, Franco and Alexandra’s dance bringing them close enough that I could hear Franco’s voice, laced with sarcasm. “Careful, Y/N. Don’t trip in those boots. Would hate to see you fall.”

I shot him a withering look. “At least I don’t have to rely on flashy dance moves to distract from my shitty personality.”

Alexandra glanced between us, her elegant face calm, but I could see the glimmer of amusement in her eyes. She exchanged a quick look with Charles, who raised an eyebrow.

“Ils ne s’arrêtent jamais, hein ? On change de partenaire ?” (They never stop, do they? Shall we switch partners?)

Charles nodded, laughing softly. “Ouais, ils vont jamais tenir comme ça.” (Yeah, they’re not gonna last like this.)

Without warning, Charles stepped back, giving Alexandra an exaggerated bow. “May I have this dance?”

Alexandra giggled and curtsied in return. “Of course, mon coeur. You two, don’t kill each other!”

I blinked, caught off guard as Charles grabbed Alexandra’s hand, leaving me standing there, suddenly face-to-face with Franco. He didn’t waste a second, stepping into position, his hand catching mine in a smooth, annoyingly practiced movement.

“Looks like you’re stuck with me again,” Franco said, his voice low and taunting.

I narrowed my eyes. “What a miserable party so far.”

We started to move, circling each other as the music continued to play. The space between us was tight, and the only thickened. My heart pounded with every step, my pulse quickening not from attraction, definitely not. It had to be from the frustration of being stuck in this forced proximity. I could feel Franco’s breath, hot against my skin as we moved, and it made my teeth clench.

“You really should loosen up,” he said, his tone patronizing. “You’re a bit stiff.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to keep my cool. “And you should stop trying so hard to impress everyone.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Oh, is that what you think I’m doing? Are you impressed?”

“Hardly,” I said, struggling to maintain some distance as we moved in sync. His arm brushed against mine every few seconds, and each touch felt like a spark that kept building. A spark of annoyance of course.

His gaze flicked down to my feet, and he chuckled. “You know, for someone who likes to talk big, your dancing skills could use some work. Trying not to step on my toes?”

I felt a surge of irritation. “Maybe I should. It might actually shut you up.”

Franco’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

I didn’t hesitate. Before I could second-guess myself, I stomped down hard on his foot. The satisfying thud made him wince, his smirk faltering for a split second. The rush of satisfaction was immediate, and I pulled away from him, offering a sweet, sarcastic smile.

“There,” I said, with faux sweetness. “Happy?”

Franco, still gritting his teeth, shot me a look that said he was both irritated and impressed. “Thrilled.”

Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked off, feeling the tension melt away with each step. I spotted George by the drinks, watching the whole thing with an amused smile. His Shakespearean costume—complete with ruffled collar and feathered quill—stood out for all the wrong reasons.

As I approached, George raised an eyebrow and took a dramatic sip from his drink. “A thousand times more captivating than the finest of plays,” he said in a mock-Shakespearean voice, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Verily, the bickering hath been most entertaining.”

I huffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t.”

He smirked, clearly enjoying my frustration. “What? I’m just saying. It’s entertaining.”

“I swear, Lando’s going to pay for this,” I muttered, grabbing a drink from the bar.

George chuckled softly. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But, if it makes you feel any better, I’m fairly certain you got Franco good there.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

He nodded, trying and failing to hide a grin. “He’s limping.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension from the dance fading as I sipped my drink. Maybe tonight wouldn’t be a total disaster after all.

..

I took another sip of my drink, letting the laughter and music swirl around me. After the disaster of dancing with Franco, I was ready for a moment of peace. Nearby, George—ever the history enthusiast—was in the middle of a dramatic lecture on Halloween traditions, his Shakespearean outfit only adding to the theatrical flair. Oscar and Lewis stood at his side, looking like trapped animals in search of an escape route.

“So you see,” George continued, waving his feathered quill like it was a sword, “the tradition of carving pumpkins actually stems from the Irish myth of Stingy Jack. A fellow who tricked the devil himself and was condemned to wander the Earth with only a hollowed-out turnip to light his way.”

Oscar blinked slowly, clearly trying to appear engaged. “Turnip, huh? Fascinating.”

Lewis, looking angelic in his costume complete with wings cleared his throat. “That’s, um, really something, mate. But I should… probably check on something.” He made a hasty retreat, flashing Oscar a grateful look as he melted into the crowd.

George sighed dramatically as he watched him go. “He’s made a habit of leaving me recently. You’d think I’m the devil, and Ferrari’s his hollowed-out turnip.”

Oscar smirked, trying not to laugh. “Or maybe it’s because you get a bit... passionate with your history lessons. No offense.”

George flourished his quill with an exaggerated air of gravitas. “I am nothing if not committed to the education of my peers.”

I joined them just as Oscar gave me a playful nudge. “You missed quite the lecture on the importance of pumpkins.”

I chuckled, taking a sip of my drink. “I’m sure it was riveting.”

Oscar’s eyes flicked over my costume, a mischievous glint in them. “By the way, love the couple’s costume. Padmé and Anakin? Very cute.”

I groaned, already feeling the familiar annoyance creep up. “Don’t even start. I swear, if this blaster were real, I’d have already used it on him.”

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. “Easy there, Senator. You don’t want to go full dark side.”

I sighed, leaning back against the bar. The more I thought about it, the more I realized I couldn’t quite pinpoint why Franco and I rubbed each other the wrong way. Sure, his cocky smirk was enough to set me on edge, but there was more to it than that. Something about his whole persona made me want to throttle him.

“You’re really not into the whole star-crossed lovers thing, huh?” Oscar teased.

I shot him a look. “If I wanted a tragic romance, I’d read a book. Right now, I just want to make it through this night without throwing Franco off the yacht.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “You two have a vibe, though. It’s hard to miss.”

I rolled my eyes. “If by ‘vibe,’ you mean I’d love to smack him in the face, then sure.”

Before Oscar could respond, Carlos swooped in with a grin, his fireman costume still drawing more attention than it should have. “Ah, the fighting—classic signs of passion. You know what they say about hate, right?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. It’s passion in disguise?”

Carlos wagged a finger at me, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Exactly. All that energy has to go somewhere. I’m a fireman, I recognize fire when I see it.”

“Yeah, well,” I muttered, “I am not taking you serious as a fireman with a uniform like that.”

Carlos laughed, undeterred. “You know, sparks like this? They usually lead to something pretty interesting.”

I crossed my arms. “It’s not sparks, Carlos. It’s a dumpster fire.”

..

The bass of the music was pulsing through the yacht as Lando spun track after track in the DJ booth, looking far too pleased with himself. A crowd had gathered around, hyped up by his usual antics, and the energy was infectious. I was craving a break from all the drama and tension on the deck, so I made my way over to him. He spotted me and waved me in with an exaggerated grin.

“Y/N!” he shouted over the music. “Come save me from my own brilliance!”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help smiling as I slipped into the booth. “Brilliance, huh? Pretty sure you’re just pressing buttons.”

“Hey, there’s an art to this,” Lando replied, turning a dial with unnecessary flair. “You’re just not refined enough to get it.”

I snorted. “Right, forgot you’re the second comming of Beethoven.”

He shot me a cheeky grin. “Finally you appreciate my genius. Speaking of appreciating things—what’s the status with you and lover boy over there?”

I frowned, confused. “Lover boy? What are you talking about?”

Lando gestured with his chin toward the bar. I followed his gaze and—of course—there was Franco, surrounded by a group of girls, all of them looking way too captivated by whatever nonsense he was saying. I felt an annoying twinge of something in my chest.

“Oh him. Glad he’s entertaining the entire female population on this yacht and out of my way.” I muttered, taking a sip of my drink.

Lando’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned in with a wicked grin. “Ohhh, someone's sounding a little jealous.”

I shot him a look. “You are out of your damn mind, Norris.”

“Uh-huh, sure,” Lando said, clearly unconvinced. “You’ve got that tone, Y/N. The one where you’re pretending you don’t care but deep down you do.”

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. “Lando, I don’t care. At all.”

He smirked. “Yeah, and I’m the Queen of England. Come on, just admit it.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Trust me, I’m thrilled to have a break.”

Lando leaned closer, lowering his voice dramatically. “Darling, you totally dig that weird tension you’ve got. Sucks you’re too stubborn to admit it.”

I nudged him, hard. “I swear, you’re the most annoying person on this boat.”

He laughed, dodging me as he adjusted the volume. “I live to serve. But come on, there’s clearly a thing here.”

“There’s no thing,” I said, crossing my arms. “He just rubs me the wrong way. That’s it.”

Lando looked at me mischievously, wiggling his eyebrows. “Maybe you should ask if he can rub you—”

“Don’t,” I warned.

He flashed a wicked grin. “Fine, fine. But it’s only a matter of time.”

I shoved him again, a little harder this time, accidentally knocking over my drink which spilled directly onto the electronics.

“Oh, shit!” I gasped, scrambling to grab a napkin, but it was too late.

A loud pop echoed through the booth, and suddenly, the entire yacht went dark. The music cut off, the lights blinked out, and silence descended over the party.

For a second, there was nothing but confused murmuring from the crowd, people pulling out their phones for light. But Lando? Lando was doubled over, laughing like a maniac.

“Oh my God,” he gasped between fits of laughter. “You—You just shut down the entire party!”

I stood there, frozen in disbelief. “I didn’t mean to! I—oh my God, what did I do?”

Lando was still laughing so hard he could barely breathe.

I glared at him. “Lando! This is serious!”

But he couldn’t stop. “Serious? This is the funniest thing! Instantly makes the party more interesting.”

As people around us tried to figure out what was happening, Lando clapped me on the shoulder, still chuckling. “You’re a hot mess, Y/N. Never change.”

As the yacht rocked gently in the dark, I couldn’t help but laugh with him. Leave it to Lando to find humor in the disaster I’d just caused.

..

The yacht was pitch black, save for the glow of a few phone screens. Lando, ever the opportunist in chaos, was soaking it all in, practically buzzing with excitement.

"Alright, people!" he yelled, his voice carrying over the deck. "The power’s out, the music’s dead—so you know what that means. It’s time for a game of truth or dare!"

A chorus of laughter and groans followed, but with the party in full swing, no one was about to leave just because the lights were out. Alex, the saint that he is, immediately started working on fixing the power while the other people started gathering in a loose circle, the mood shifting into something more mischievous, encouraged by the anonymity the dark provided.

I found myself sitting next to Oscar, who still had his ridiculous slice of bread taped to his chest, and on my other side, George, who looked far too excited for whatever was about to happen. Across the circle, Franco leaned back against the railing, his face barely visible in the flickering light of someone’s phone, but I could sense that annoying grin of his even in the dark.

“Alright, who’s first?” Lando asked, rubbing his hands together like he was about to start the most chaotic plan of the night.

Max, who was still rocking the old lady costume, raised his hand. “Truth,” he said, a little too eagerly.

Lando grinned. “Max! Alright, truth: Have you ever used a fake name at a hotel to avoid fans?”

Max barely hesitated. “Of course. I go by ‘Gertrude’—suits the look, don’t you think?” He gestured to his outfit, earning laughs from around the circle.

Lando chuckled, then pointed at Oscar. “Your turn. Truth or dare?”

Oscar sighed dramatically, clearly not enthused but willing to play along. “Dare.”

Lando’s grin widened. “Alright, I dare you to dance… interpretively… to the sound of silence.”

Oscar rolled his eyes but stood up, performing the most absurd, exaggerated dance moves to the silent deck. Everyone was in hysterics by the end of it, with Oscar bowing dramatically before sitting back down.

The game rolled on, with truths and dares flying left and right. Checo was dared to chug a mystery drink—something Max had mixed together from the darkest corners of the yacht’s mini-bar. Lewis was asked to reveal his most embarrassing podium moment, which turned out to involve him tripping over a champagne bottle and almost face-planting in front of the world’s cameras.

And then it was my turn.

Lando turned to me, that gleam in his eyes saying he was about to stir the pot. “Y/N. Truth or dare?”

I sighed, feeling the weight of everyone's gaze on me. “Dare,” I said, determined to go for it.

Lando’s grin widened, and I could see mischief brewing in his eyes. “Alright, Y/N, since you’re so brave… I dare you to whisper something you’d never admit in front of anyone—right in Franco’s ear.”

The circle erupted in laughter and teasing whistles. I felt my face go hot, and I shot Lando a murderous look. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Nope!” Lando said, looking far too proud of himself. “And make it something juicy, too.”

I crossed my arms, the heat rising in my cheeks as Franco leaned back, arms crossed, smirking like this was the greatest thing that could’ve happened to him tonight.

“Well?” he drawled, clearly enjoying the situation. “You gonna play along?”

The group was watching, waiting, and there was no way I could back out now. I steeled myself, got up, and marched over to him. Leaning down, I got as close to his ear as possible, feeling the warmth radiate off him.

I hesitated for a split second, questioning if I should really be honest, before whispering, just loud enough for only him to hear, “You’re the most infuriating person I’ve ever met, and the fact that you know you’re hot makes it worse.”

I pulled back quickly, my face burning, refusing to meet his gaze. His smirk deepened, but to my surprise, he didn’t respond—just stared at me, eyes glinting in the dim light, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression. For a moment, I thought he looked… confused, entertained? Seems like I had succesfully thrown him off his game though.

But the confusion didn’t last long. Franco shifted back into his cocky persona like slipping on an old coat, leaning casually against the railing with that same infuriating smirk. Whatever moment had passed between us was over, buried beneath his usual act.

“Well, that must’ve been juicy,” Lando said, cackling. “Look at his face!”

I sat back down, trying to shake off the weird tension that seemed to hang in the air. Franco didn’t say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. Whatever. It wasn’t worth dwelling on.

The game continued, people laughing and shouting as the dares got more ridiculous, but my focus was elsewhere.

..

Thank god that it didn’t take long for Alex to fix the electricity with a generator. The lights flickered back on, the music resumed, and the entire yacht buzzed with renewed energy. George, of course, was taking full credit for saving the night, and Alex looked just as proud.

People were back to dancing and laughing, picking up right where they left off. The power outage had become just another part of the weird night. But after the tension from earlier—the truth or dare, the constant run-ins with Franco—I needed a break from it all.

The temperature had dropped, and my costume wasn’t offering much warmth.

I slipped away from the crowd, making my way toward Lando’s room, knowing he always kept a stash of hoodies and sweaters for moments like these. A moment of peace, away from the noise and tension, sounded perfect.

I pushed open the door to Lando’s room, expecting it to be empty. But, of course, my luck was running out tonight. Franco was there, standing near the closet, rummaging through Lando’s things.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snapped, my irritation flaring immediately.

He glanced up, completely unfazed by my entrance. “Looking for my lightsaber,” he said casually, as if this was the most normal thing in the world.

“In Lando’s room?” I crossed my arms, my irritation spiking further. “Are you serious?”

Franco shrugged, standing upright with that infuriating smirk on his face. “What? It might’ve ended up here. You know how parties go.”

I rolled my eyes and moved toward the dresser. “Of course. Can’t even keep track of a toy.”

He leaned against the closet door, still watching me. “I didn’t realize my presence would offend you so much.”

I turned to face him, the frustration from the entire night bubbling up. “Your presence always offends me. Honestly, I hate that I have to see your stupid face everywhere.”

His smirk widened, eyes gleaming. “That’s funny, because I remember you saying earlier that you think I am hot.”

My hands tightened into fists at my sides. “I said that to get a reaction and get Lando off my back.”

“Sure,” he drawled, stepping closer. “Just happened to he something you came up with. I doubt you hate my face as much as you claim.”

“You are so full of yourself,” I spat, the anger flaring in my chest. “You walk around here like you own the place, thinking everyone is in love with you.”

Franco took another step, the space between us shrinking. “I’m not full of myself. I’m confident and charming. There’s a difference.”

“Charming?” I scoffed. “More like delusional.”

His expression darkened, but his smirk didn’t fade. “Oh, and you’re so different? Always twirling around, batting your eyelashes.”

I took a step toward him, my heart pounding. “I don’t twirl, and I don’t bat my eyelashes at anybody. Especially not to you.”

His eyes narrowed, and the tension between us thickened, our words sharper now, cutting into the air between us. “Please. You’re just pissed off because you can’t handle the fact that you are wildly attracted to me.”

“God, I hate you,” I growled, my voice barely above a whisper.

And then, before I could even process what was happening, I grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward me. The kiss was sudden, explosive—born out of the fire of our argument. Franco didn’t hesitate, his hands gripping my waist as he kissed me back with the same intensity.

The heat between us was overwhelming, fueled by all the anger, all the frustration that had been building up. His lips were rough against mine, his body pressing me back against the wall as the kiss deepened.

His mouth was hot and demanding. I kissed him back, my frustration and desire merging into one explosive force. My fingers tangled in his hair, softly holding on to his brown locks for support. He groaned, making my mind run places I didn’t think it would.

Breaking away for air, I gasped, "This doesn’t change anything."

Franco chuckled, his warm breath fanning my face. "Keep telling yourself that, cariño."

He still towered over me, my body between his and the door.

"You think you know everything, don't you?” I said rolling my eyes, only half annoyed.

"I know what I want right now," he murmured, his hands sliding up my thighs, tugging on the waistband of my shorts. "And I want you."

I hate to admit but that definitely sent some flutters to my stomach. Without thinking I put my lips on his again.

He swiftly pulled down my shorts, fingers teasing the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, making me tremble. I could feel his hardness against my stomach, and I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him. I tugged on his shirt, signaling to take it off.

With a smirk he stepped back and took off the top half of his costume, revealing his sculpted chest. I stared with googly eyes, not even caring at this point.

“¿Apurada, eh?” He grinned, his eyes dark with intent, "Good, because I can't wait much longer either."

He swiftly reached for my shirt and pulled it over my head. As I pulled down my pants, I could see a little blush creeping up on his cheeks.

I kissed him hard, biting his lower lip, tasting the saltiness of his skin. My hands explored his body, mapping the contours of his muscles. He groaned again, cupping my breasts, thumbs brushing over my hardening nipples.

He smiled against my lips, his hands moving lower. He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slid them down my legs, his touch electric.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he whispered, his breath hot against my ear.

He lifted me up, his hands on my ass, wrapping my legs around him for support. He kissed me again, his tongue exploring my mouth as he undid my bra with practiced ease, freeing my breasts, and then lowered his head, taking a nipple into his mouth. I arched off the doorframe, moaning as his tongue teased and suckled.

"You like that, huh?" He whispered, his breath hot against my sensitive skin. "I'm gonna make you feel so good."

I could barely form words, but I managed to gasp, "Please, Franco..."

He moved one of his hands to between my thighs, feeling the arousal dripping between my legs.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his fingers working my sensitive clit, making me squirm. "You want me inside you, don't you?"

I nodded, my breath coming in short gasps. "Yes, please... I need you."

“Such a good girl for me.” He said, with a dark twinkle in his green eyes.

Franco did not waste a moment, quickly lowering his pants, letting his cock spring free. He positioned himself between my thighs, pressing against my entrance. With one smooth thrust, he filled me, stretching me in the most delicious way. I cried out.

He began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm. Each stroke sent waves of pleasure through me, building towards something incredible. I clung to him, my nails digging into his back, urging him on.

"Fuck, you feel amazing," he grunted, his eyes closed in concentration. "Tight... so fucking tight."

He started speeding up his pace. The tension coiled within me, tighter and tighter with each thrust. I could feel my orgasm building, a delicious pressure building at my core.

"Franco... I'm close," I panted, my voice hoarse.

He deepened his strokes, his hips snapping against mine, driving me wild. "Come for me, cariño. Let it go."

His words were all I needed. With a final, powerful thrust, I shattered, crying out his name as my body trem. Franco followed, his own release spilling deep within me, his hips jerking uncontrollably.

We both sank down on the ground, our hearts racing, our bodies slick with sweat. I turned my head, meeting his intense gaze.

Franco’s expression softened, the tension in the air shifting into something heavier, something neither of us could brush off. “I didn’t think this would feel so�� right.”

I didn’t fight it this time. “Me either.”

He leaned in again, slower this time, as if daring me to stop him. But I didn’t. I closed the distance, giving in to the pull between us.

..

The door closed behind us with a soft click, and I took a breath, still trying to shake the whirlwind of what had just happened. The party outside was still going strong, lights and music filling the night air. Franco walked beside me, casual as ever, but the tension between us still lingered, making every step feel more charged than it should.

Before I could gather my thoughts, Lando appeared, sliding smoothly between us like he’d been waiting for this moment all night. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Well, well, well!” he chimed, throwing an arm over each of our shoulders. “Look who finally decided to rejoin the living! What were you two doing in there? Having a nice little chat?”

I rolled my eyes, trying not to laugh. “Lando, can you not?”

“Can I not?” he gasped dramatically, pulling his arms back and clutching his chest like I’d mortally wounded him. “After all I’ve done for you two? I think you owe me some credit here.”

Franco smirked, clearly amused by Lando’s antics. “Credit for what? Being a pain in the ass?”

Lando sighed theatrically, looking between us. “Oh please, you’re both welcome. I’ve been watching this play out for weeks. It was only a matter of time.”

Franco glanced at me, catching my eye with a lingering look. His smirk softened slightly, his eyes flicking down briefly before meeting mine again, a warmth that hadn’t been there before.

I felt my breath catch, a slight flutter in my chest that I tried to ignore. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Norris,” I muttered, but my voice lacked its usual edge.

Franco chuckled, and I could feel the heat of his arm brushing against mine, his presence suddenly feeling heavier in the best way.

Lando caught the exchanged glances, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion. “Oh, I see how it is,” he said, leaning back and pretending to cross his arms. “You two are having a moment and I’m just here… being forgotten.”

Franco raised an eyebrow, turning to me with a grin. “Looks like we’ve upset him.”

I shot him a warning look but couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips. “Ignore him.”

Lando groaned. “You two are turning on me already.”

Franco leaned in a little closer to me, his voice low but loud enough for Lando to hear. “I guess we do make a good team.”

I could feel the heat rise in my cheeks at the comment, but I brushed it off with a playful scoff. “Don’t push your luck.”

Lando, meanwhile, was trying his best to get back into the conversation. “Anyway, now that you’ve finally gotten past all the tension, what’s next? Dinner? A romantic stroll under the moonlight?”

Franco grinned, glancing at me before turning back to Lando. “Actually, I was thinking breakfast.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

Franco turned fully toward me, his grin softening just a little. “Yeah. Breakfast. Tomorrow.”

I leaned in smiling, giving him a little peck. “Sounds lovely.”

I swear Franco was blushing a bit, the twinkle in his eyes brighter than ever. Who would’ve thought.

Lando, realizing he wasn’t the one in control of the conversation anymore, groaned dramatically. “Gross. I’ve I had known I’d be third-wheeling this hard I would’ve not played cupid.”

Franco laughed, shaking his head. “Pretty sure you’ll survive.”

Lando stepped back, pretending to sulk. “Fine, fine. I’ll leave you two lovebirds alone.” He turned to me, his grin reappearing. “For now.”

“Not surprised,” I muttered, though I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face.

Lando gave a little wave, already walking back toward the rest of the party. “Enjoy your breakfast date! And remember—you can thank me later!”

As he disappeared into the crowd, I let out a long breath, finally turning back to Franco. He was watching me, a quiet smile still playing on his lips.

“So, breakfast?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He nodded, leaning in slightly. “Yep. I figure we’ve had enough drama for one night. Why not start the day fresh?”

I met his eyes for a moment before nodding. That sounded very cute. “Alright. Breakfast it is.”

Franco grinned, the cocky edge softening into something more sincere. “I’ll pick you up at ten.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You’d better be on time.”

“Oh, I will be,” he said, brushing his hand against mine for just a moment. “No way I’m missing this.”

[shadowmaat]

Jedi Service Corps

The Legends-fueled propaganda of "bad students get sent to the Agricorp/Services" has always bothered me. First of all, forcing kids into a career not of their choosing isn't the best way to encourage them to perform well.

The Services in general seem to get a bad rap, and TBH it's kind of bizarre to assume that every kid who winds up being taken in by the Jedi wants to grow up to be a cop. LOL!

There is so much untapped potential being ignored, and even within the four pseudo-canon branches there's a lot to explore.

Agriculture. Farmers Without Borders. LOL! It isn't just about growing plants, it's about analyzing trends, understanding ecosystems, geology, climatology, politics, etc. There's mechanical engineering so you know how to fix the machines that do the hardest labor (often illegally, given corporate software locks and so forth). Probably a lot of fiddly stuff with plant genetics, too, given similar issues with seed corporations.

Being Jedi, I'm sure they're also aware of the need to include "ornamental" plants to help with the emotional welfare of hurting/devastated populations.

Education. This field must be fucking wild. Sure, you have your future creche masters and archivists, but I imagine there are those who do public outreach, too, and go to schools to teach kids about what the Jedi do beyond waving laser swords. There's probably also a need for teachers in isolated/rural areas to help with basic things like reading, writing, and maths. Ditto areas devastated by wars and natural disasters, where kids need a safe distraction from trauma. I bet Educorp and Agricorp team up more often than people might think.

There's also the sheer variety of topics. Even something basic like history will have a wide net. Galactic history, region-specific, planetary, etc. And then there's the arts. Music, singing, dance, physical media, holo media, theatre, and so much more. There will be differences between species, understanding what they need to know, how they learn best, and what their aging process is like. Teachers to cover the full range of mortal maturity, from teaching toddlers to old-timers. And don't get me started on teaching "forbidden" topics in repressive communities.

Medical. LOL. Every. Single. Species. And often subtypes between them. So many specialists needed. And again, you probably have a number that specialize in helping in disaster areas. Hello, Educorp, let's help teach these people how to best care for themselves. Maybe Agricorp can help with showing folks how to purify their air and water. There must be SO many diseases, some of which have inoculations and so that don't. And again, figuring ways to smuggle medicine and supplies to those who need it despite the extortionist rates corporations charge. Repairing faulty equipment, finding work-arounds when the parts aren't there. Triage. Using the Force to help heal is all well and good, but sometimes they still have to get hands-on.

Even with non-emergency stuff, I imagine they're still kept busy. The idea of a Jedi "country doctor" settled in some remote area sounds delightful. Communities that get "lost" in the shuffle or otherwise overlooked. Veterinary medicine as a sub-specialty.

Jedi having a special "knack" for determining what's wrong with someone, finding early warning signs before it's too late, etc. Comforting the dying. Comforting the survivors. ALL the mental health stuff and neurodivergence.

Exploration. Jedi Starfleet. LOL! It isn't all about discovering new worlds, though. Sometimes it's rediscovering planets and cultures that have been forgotten. Charting new hyperlane routes and hoping the end doesn't pop you out in the middle of a star.

I betcha you could fold so many things into this one. Botany. Archaeology. Xenoanthropology. Medicine, of course, since new worlds/people means new poisons, venoms, and diseases. New or ancient languages? It'd help to have someone around who could work on translating. Diplomats to help you talk to people. Geologists. Zoologists. A bit of everything.

Sure, there'd be room for solo missions, but I imagine there'd be bigger ships that they'd launch from. A place to come back to so the brains can pore over everything you brought back and see what they can determine from it. And big ships (or any ships really) means pilots, engineers, general crew, logistics, and all those fun things.

Anyway, I can see plenty of room for additional corps, too, but of the ones that get mentioned in Legends there's still a huge playing field.

[threepandas]

Bad End: We Are

Senatus was a ecumenopolis. The "shining jewel" (yeah, right) of the Galactic Core. Please. Like? Maybe it was! If you were RICH AS FUCK. I don't know. I'VE never seen the towers. The heights. Most people haven't. Street level? Is about FIVE HUNDRED FLOORS DOWN. And the UNDERGROUND? Speak not of it.

The Underground GROWS.

What was street level today, may not be tomorrow. Levels buried under "progress" as the rich grow ever higher. The Tox levels ever worse. Air quality dropping. Why fix the peasant's poverty and despair, when you can buy a Sky garden you'll never use? And yes, I AM bitter as a Buirian fish ration. Just as salty too. Taste the SEA, motherfuckers.

Rent? Who can AFFORD rent!? Who can afford ANYTHING?!

It's some BULLSHIT.

But me? I remembered. A life. Before this one. Before the millennium of slow, drip drip drip erosion of duty and dues. Back when people still REMEMBERED what they were OWED. And when folks in power failed to pay up? Ffffuck um. Take it. Our house now, motherfuckers. Diplomacy was a courtesy not a weakness.

....I make people nervous, honestly.

Probably why I keep getting fired. That and my constantly reporting people to regulatory boards. Maybe don't break the LAW if you don't want to get in trouble you SHITS. Fuck you! Yes, I stole your fancy office chair. PROVE IT. You don't know how the security system works!

Where was I? Ah, right. Rent.

Fuck Rent.

Thing is? What! Is a biodome? If not an enclosed system, regulated by machines, for optimal habitability? And! What? Is an Deep Underground Level? Long forgotten? Abandoned, if you will~, if not? A complete enclosed environment? Does someone OWN them? Yes. Technically. But are they MAINTAINING them? CHECKING on them? Nope!

Common knowledge, after all, says that EVERYTHING down their is "beyond salvaging"!

Free Real Estate~☆

I just need some supplies. Which? Cheaper in the long run then RENT. Especially if ya' salvage um. Maybe steal some tool sets from your shitty, shitty Mechanics job, because your boss refuses to pay you. Who can say? Not me! I just FOUND these tools! Like maaaagic~

And really, one man's junk? Another man's treasure. I pay more then the trash company. Hit up the right cleaning companies? And? Oops. They've "lost" some of those SUPER broken righ folks "junk" that? At best? Just needed a few wires replaced, resecured. Maybe a new part. Or were, you know, not the latest and greatest anymore.

Shove it all in a storage locker? Sell the refurb'd shit I don't need? Sleep in a glorified shoebox? And?? Bam. Operation "fuck ya'll, i'ma moleman" is a go. It takes FOREVER to find the right WILDLY out of date (and long abandoned) lift, but I find it! Hidden away in a service area in some crumbling, forgotten corner of what once was a rail station.

Gonna have to fix THAT up too. Later, though. First? The lift. The wires are brittle and the lift's pully system is half rusted, frozen, or otherwise broken. Luckily, the car itself is fine. It... takes a bit of research. Not going to lie. It's far from my specialty. I even call in a professional to go over my work.

They catch a few things. Not immediate concerns, but would have been fatal in the long run. Money well spent. For my hobby, of course. Fixing up old bits of the city. Which is a weird but not impossible hobby to have.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies, my dude.

First thing down? Lights, melter, and duraplast sheets. Toolkit too, for obvious reasons. Same with my full body hazard suit. I go DEEP. Like... no longer can hear the city, deep. 'Bout halfway point. Takes nearly thirty minutes. And while not a fast lift? Holy SHIT, man.

The floor I step out into is... bad.

Dead in a way that's hard to explain. There's pressure against my suit. Centuries of heavy gasses slowly working their way down. Swirling in the silence. The dust and impossible dark. My headlight feels almost... sacrilegious. Dangerous. Like I'm waving a flashlight around some ancient burial ground, filled with the not so restful dead.

I had heard... that they? Just... just LEFT droids down here. That there were levels upon levels of dangerously feral machines. Slowly rotting away in the darkness. Probably rightfully angry, that they had been built to serve, to do duties, which they HAD done... only to be consigned to hell on earth for the sake of CONVENIENCE.

I'd be mad too. Fucking LIVID. Would remember and hate, never let it go.

This was no place of honor, it was a tomb.

Still, I got too work. Set up a light by the lift and started measuring out the original air box. The air cleaners could only handle so much. And THIS? This was worse then expected. So it'd have to be smaller then originally planned. Fair enough. I could work with that.

I outlined the space in lights. All the better to make it easier to put things up. Then got the folded later and started securing the duraplast. First step, get it up. THEN melt it to the metal. Get a good seal. It took... a while. Was slow, steady, sweaty work.

The filters couldn't run until they had a an enclosed space TO run in. They'd just blow out, trying to filter the whole level's toxic atmosphere. I kept an eye on my air supply. Not great, not terrible. The readings though? Horrific. I had no idea what I was gonna DO with the filters when they needed changing. These kind of chemicals would set off all SORTS of alarms.

But? No use, rushing things. That was a great way to get a fatal leak somewhere. No. Slow and steady. Even though, third of the way through, I did have to head back up. I needed to refill my air. Eat. Drink. Maybe de-stink a little, from being in that suit all day. Possibly nap near the lift.

ALSO? Update my shopping list to include some heavy duty neutralizers.

Just filters wasn't gonna be enough. I was gonna have to hose down everything INSIDE my new air-box, then scrub it HARD. How fun. Well, it's not like anyone was making me do this. It was MY mad idea, after all.

So? I refuel, get bright eyed and fuckin' perky, and go back down to face the beast.

Honestly I should have brought a telebook or something. Well, audio book. But that's not what they call um these days, so I try to stick to the lingo. I sound less like a deeply insane antique. Confuse less people. Joys of basic communication and all that.

Part of me? Wishes I had been born closer to "The Plot". Creation's specialist, most favored, Blorbos. But? The common SENSE in me? Routinely laughs hysterically as it waves fifteen different restraining orders and a crucifix. Not even religious. Yet here we are, shouting "BEGONE! Sataaaaan!" in HD, on the inside of my head. Not sure it helps.

See... it's the fucking DRAMA~☆™

The shear, unmitigated, high octane, Otome Game DRAMA.

I would fuckin DIE or, possibly and, kill somebody. The endless string of selfish, selfish, poor life choices? Driving by luuuuuuv~♡? Give me your spleen. Gonna beat somebody unconscious with their own SPINE. I RAGE. Lack of communication? No one just picking up a fucking PHONE? God forbid ANYONE tell their families their not DEAD IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE!

No. No just inconvenience EVERYBODY and RUIN LIVES. It's okay! You're in LOVE!

That makes EVERYTHING BETTER.

I would inevitably launch them all out an airlock. Spend the rest of my life in jail. They AREN'T WORTH IT. I may have LOVED this game in my teens? But I did not die a teenager.

Now? Now the little shit just aggravate me. They are baby faced pretty boys who presume WAY too much. Arrogant and entitled. Boys playing at being men, thinking their little love stories are the only things that matter. Their feelings are the only thing in the universe that holds any weight.

Unsurprising, really.

Seeing as how their little love story is set mostly in The Towers.

A rich, pampered, pretty little backdrop where nothing of weight is real. No one starves and no crimes are ever committed. Everything shines. Power pools thick like honey. Nothing but sci-fi prince's and alien dukes, a dewey eyed Protagonist sheltered and naive.

Her oh so shocking misadventure to the mid-levels. How SCARY! Downtown! Poor people! Not even the destitute. Just? The EXSISTANCE of dirt and noise, beyond her ivory towers. Thank goodness she is saved by a handsome, rougish bad boy. Who shows her the "real world" of a carnival and a noodle shop.

I finish securing the last duraplast sheet to the ceiling, walls, supports, and along the floors. The "entryway" to the rest of the level is set up. A click together shed I've made air tight. Gonna have to get a air lock system for it. Won't hold forever, with those materials, but should work for now. Combine it with a decontamination system, and I should, in theory, be able to safely enter and leave the rest of the level in a hazard suit.

Moment of truth time. I click on the first of the atmo-filters. It heaves under the strain. The sound getting less aggrieved with each one I flick on. Their screen are already in the red, flashing warnings that I should vacate the area. That the air is dangerously unbreathable. I'm probably gonna need to replace the filters in them in days instead of years. It'll be worth it.

Heading back up, I let them run. It'll take a few days. Besides, I need those neutralizers.

I, of course, DO find um. Just in time to watch Poor Guy (middle class, at worst) Love Interest become a wanted man. They use the BIG screens to announce it. Gee, it's almost like having your only daughter, who is highly sheltered, NOT show up at the designated pick up site? Instead be witnessed in the handsy company of a scoundrel? Which is WILDLY unlike her? Might lead a protective father to some wrong conclusions.

If ONLY someone had CALLED him! To TELL him "Daddy, my first shuttle was broken and I think I got on the wrong back up shuttle! I don't know where I am!" Then this would just be an unfortunate meet cute with the boy he doesn't think is good enough for her. Not, you know... A Kidnapping.

The Chem seller looks just as baffled and annoyed as I do. Apparently knows the guy's uncle's second wife's first husband. No shit? How's he like? Happier, huh. Whole family is like that? Yikes. Glad he got the kids, I guess. Good for him.

We watch as it turns into a high speed chance that absolutely didn't need to happen.

Thank FUCK it's not us.

I spend the next few days deliberately and obstinately ignoring the Dramatic Bullshit that has taken over the news cycle. Fights on rail cars? Don't see it? Weddings that are, then aren't, then ARE happening? Oh look, missed a spot in my scrubbing. Someone fucking tearfully monologing about love as they nearly CRASH A SHIP into downtown, killing hundreds of thousands? Oh that creaking noise is just my teeth, ignore that, I grit my teeth a lot for NO PARTICULAR REASON.

This Is Fine.

I am TOTALLY CALM.

But hey! I can FINALLY empty my storage unit out! Air box? Get! Wooooo! Size of a tiny apartment and everything! As long as I keep working on it? I'll be able to reclaim the level in chunks.

It's like moving in day! But BETTER! Because... because I did this. Me. Is it still creepy down here? Yeah, very. But I can FIX that. I am standing, here, in my new air box "apartment", with NO hazard suit on. And... and it's SAFE. Because of the work I DID.

I kinda want to cry about it, you know?

So many options! Do I put my bed here? There?! Oooh, I could put the folding table HERE and make sort of a dining area? Maybe use these folding screens as a double "wall" slash headboard stand in? I should get plants. Fake ones? No. Real ones. I could get solar lights. It would be good for me too. Oh! Where should I put the cook top?

I admit it. I fuss. Whole day, gleefully wasted. Arranging then rearranging. Getting everything just right. Finding ways to hang my fairy lights. Looking up decor magazines. I have so much ROOM now. A whole level to plan for, ultimately. It... it feels kinda like hope. The first thing that isn't frustration and rage, I've felt in a long, long time.

Going to sleep? I'm happy.

Next day, I head to the BIG archives. The ones attached to the fancy Towers Library. Is it costly to get in? Yeah. But I've saved up enough questions and research topics for the trip to be worth it. I ignore the started glances I get (gasp! Is that a POOR?!) and head straight for the helper droids. Only decent folks in the building, really.

Brought my pad and everything. So it's only a matter of being lead to the right terminals, to download the information I need. Chatting with the research droid the Library had, they offered to do it for me. Bring me a fascinating new research paper on some sort of telepathic moss that had recently been discovered. Not gonna lie... that DID sound fascinating.

I asked if they could put other interest new discovery on my pad too, assuming I still had room once my list was downloaded. They looked gleeful. No idea what I just signed up for, but all right then. They've never steered me wrong before.

Finding a table to sit down and wait was easy. There was always way too many. The paper? Was exactly as fascinating as advertised. The moss was on a newly discovered moon, edge of uncharted space. Nearly ate a researcher, apparently. I was entranced. Or... at least I WAS. Until an obnoxiously familiar high end cologne from Nox drifted to my nose.

Oh god damn it.

I didn't want to look up. Knew what I'd see if I did. Fetishist Sr., crown prince of Nox. See, the second prince? HE was a love interest. Younger, boyish, infatuated with naive and sheltered girls. He loved AT her. Just like his brother. They liked the IDEA of their romantic partners. The narratives they built in their head. Heros of their own stories with sex on line. Never framed so crudely of course, no, no!

No, it was Romance™

My ass, it was. See, little brother wanted his pure, naive, princess to protect. But Prince senior? HE'D stumbled upon me in here in the library. On one of my trips, God help me. The rough, mysterious, brutish Poor. The Commoner, for all that such things were not supposed to exsist. With my strange clothes and stanger ways. Yet? I was NOT as his sycophants no doubt described.

I was educated. I held myself with dignity. I did not need jewels or finery to be lovely.

With such incredible audacity, I was bold.

Which? OBVIOUSLY had to be for HIM, right? Clearly, this was a LOVE STORY. Cinderella. It is inconceivable that I, a peasant, do not crave the attention of my betters. To lift me from my woeful indignity, to a higher state of being. A life of spoiled luxury. But, ah! He is so SHY! How ever will he approach the Love Of His Life~?

I want to throw something. Go awaaaay. My body language could not POSSIBLY be more uninterested. I am SO CLEARLY reading. Stop trying to catch my eye. Don't you FUCKING DARE scoot closer. Swear to God, if you drive me out of the best library in the region? I will stab a b-!

The helper returns with my pad, sternly eyeing my annoyance. Oh, they are a BLESSING. I take it and go. The helper smoothly stepping between me and the prince when he tries to rise, follow me. Aaaw, how sad, you have to behave like the REST OF US. Get FUCKED.

Rest of the day? Planning. Grabbing more broken bits, machines, and parts. Neutralizers by the literal barrel. Than YOU hover carts! Best invention, favorite invention. Saves SO MUCH TIME.

Even managed to get some sun lamps. Nice.

Getting home though? (Ha ha, wooo! I have a HOME now! Land ownershiiiiiiip! Sorta!!!) Is a pain. Lift is only so big, after all. But it is, what it is. Up, down, up, down, uuuuup, and dooooown. Finally! Last load! FREEDOM! Can't watch my shows, yet, but I will! Oh mark my words. I WILL. Meantime? Downloaded seasons are fine.

I eat, fiddle with fixing things, as listen to tunes. Watch some of my shows. Just as I have countless times before. Until... halfway through mid-afternoon? Something shifts, jerky and wrong, out of the corner of my eye. I pause. Turn off my music. Stare to make sure I DID actually see something. And... yeah. Yeah, that was definitely movement.

Didn't look animal though, not like one would survive down here. But who knows. Could be a poacher brought an alien species. So it might be. I grab my flashlight, aim and switch it on. Holy SHIT. That is one incredibly beat up floor clear. Or at least... I THINK it's a floor cleaner? It has the general shape of one. Bigger though. Bulkier. But that makes sense, given it's gotta be well past obsolete.

Still. Poor thing looks beat UP. Listing terribly, sensors beyond cracked and clouded, probably full to dangerous levels. No idea how it's still functioning. But, well, it IS. And it needs help.

Getting up, I grab my hazard suit and pull it on. Grab my "outside the air box" tool kit, which I haven't had a chance to move yet. I grab some parts i look like i'll need, hope I wont need more. Then head out my makeshift airlock. It... works. Rattles concerningly. But it DOES work! So there's that. I approach the floor cleaner slowly. Since I'm PRETTY sure? All the droids down here are feral.

I am correct.

It tries to kill me. Swinging it's suction hose violently and trying to ram me. I talk in a low, soothing voice. Just want to help. Won't do ANYTHING you don't want me too. It's hard to move, right? That's frustrating, isn't it? You don't deserve that. Please, let me help. You can leave the second I'm done. You don't owe me ANYTHING. I just want to help. Please let me help.

The cleaner hisses. Frustrated and upset. Swinging one last time, seemingly more out out of principle then anything else. Cautiously, I inch forward. Keep up the soothing noises. First things first, empty the God's only know how old basket.

I can't even get the door to jostle. Sweet mother of fuck. Okay! New plan! REMOVE door. I do, and immediately met with a solid BLOCK of... compacted unholy. Chemical hell. I have to take a lazer cutter to it. CAREFULLY. But? Once I break enough pieces? I am able to ease out the rest in a solid stone like chunk.

It's pushed a LOT of other pieces out of alignment. But this droid doesn't trust me, so there us not much I can DO. I replace the old bag. Put the door back on and make sure it swings. Continue, as I do, to narrate what I am doing and what I see. Trust is earned, not owed, after all. Next the alignments.

Gently propping them up, I find the broken peice immediately. Have replaced countless. I ask for permission. It's their body, after all I COULD try and weld it, but that risks a rebreak. It's up to them. They ask, in binary so no language modules apparently, for a new part. It's cautious. Like this is some cruel trap.

Humanity did them a real fucked up cruelty. I don't blame them for not trusting me. I wouldn't either. Still, I change it out. Careful with their wheels, as I don't know how old the material is exactly. Old enough, that it's a small miracle it hasn't disintegrated.

Last, those sensors. There's literally no way for me to one-to-one them. But we can try the sensors I DO have, see if they can handle the input. If it's too much, I'll look up their model number, if they want? Build replacements from scratch. They are cautious interested. Rocking back and forth, as they test their renewed ability to path correctly.

The sensors don't fit the casings just right, but with a bit of fiddling? Are a hit. The Cleaner shouting in excitement before racing off into the dark. I can't help but grin. It feels good, helping somebody. And if I think about it? I bet I could find a shit ton of obsolete parts for cheap. Might be good to have some on hand.

Back through the air lock and a decontam? I look up junk shop. Most are off world, but I could probably get a bulk order...

I don't think much of the interaction. Until the next morning, when there are three cleaners outside my airbox. Lead by the one I helped yesterday. Well... all righty, then. I drag my box of spare parts outside this time. Am able to fully fix my first buddy up. All three seem thrilled, especially with their new batteries. I give them my remaining batteries at their request.

THEY may not have hands, but they have buddies who DO. And the new batteries will help dormant droids wake from their comas. God bless, my funky little cleaner dudes. I'll see about getting more.

Three? Becomes six and a detail cleaner mouse. Becomes moving lifts. Becomes medical units. (Who the FUCK leaves MEDICAL UNITS?!) Becomes a literal pack of companion droids. Their false fur long since rotted away. The recognizable dog and cat-like shapes making something in me want to put my fist through a wall. How COULD they? How FUCKING COULD THEY?!

The perpetrators long dead.

I have no one I can hurt for this.

I wish I could.

Fixing them up hurts on a personal level. Watching them be torn between the part of them that LOVES humans and the part that is traumatized by them. Hates them. That can not forgive. I don't offer fake fur. Don't offer to make them look like they once did. I do offer ways to protect their joints. To remove old rotted filth.

So they can start over. Maybe start again.

As I work... droids drifting in and out of my slowly growing area. As I set up farm boxes. Aquaponics, aeroponics, and the like. Both things that grow well in dark environments and things that need sunlamps. Fish tanks. A whole happy, secret, little homestead. Deep beneath the city. As I do all this? There are two blue dots, right off on the horizon.

JUST far enough for me to question if I AM or AM NOT actually seeing them.

Right about the level a bipedal droid would be, if they were in a humanoid style. But THOSE? Those are FUCKING EXPENSIVE. You don't LEAVE those. 'Course, you don't leave MEDICAL UNITS either. Or companion droids. So clearly? My idea of what people Did and Did NOT do? Was fucked. So... maybe? It COULD be?

I left them alone. If they didn't want to approach me, didn't feel comfortable approaching me, that was their right. I wasn't going to push them.

Things were... weird, but peaceful.

Well, for ME.

Ever sense I hooked up my system to the greater network? (Hacked is such a STRONG word. Do we really need to through around the word "stealing"? Aren't ALL of us, stealing from SOMEBODY?) I'm PRETTY sure? That the levels droids? Were piggy backing to connect to the planet wide D-Network. Might even be a couple of nearby levels too, depending on the range.

Problem with THAT? Is sky-side? The droids were PISSED. Planet wide "malfunctioning" that no one could trace. They were certain it was a virus. Because God forbid their chickens come home to roost! Consequences? For THEIR actions?! Perish the thought! No, no, clearly the service machine is just broken. Go back to being happy to serve me, service machine!

I wished the fuckers LUCK. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

Damn near self sufficient, down here.

Which? As you could imagine? Made it all the more "soul ejected from my body" TERRIFYING to wake up one morning? To a GOD DAMN, Military Grade, SECURITY DROID standing over my body!! WHAT THE FUCK.

Hello!!??!

"You look different when you sleep."

Horrible first impression. Nightmarish. Zero out of ten stars. Nice to meet you too. Why the FUCK are you in my house?

"Ah, right." They? He? Masculine style form but that doesn't actually mean shit. Said. He lifted a mangled limb, it look like it got caught in a hydraulic press. "I am in need of repairs."

Asked if he could, you know, back up. Juuuust a bit. Lil scooch, really. So he wasn't damn near BREATHING MY NOSTRILS ANYMORE. Then, once he did? Pronouns! What be you? No. Not your production co-! Okay, you know what? That one was on me. What GENDER SIGNIFIER, if any, would you like me to REFERENCE you by? Male? Got it. Gucci. No that- ....never mind.

First the arm. Which was FUCKED. I had to, carefully, unhook it. Couldn't even do it at the elbow either! No! THIS model? No THIS model makes you take the whole ass LIMB off! Rancid. Terrible. I hate it. Worse, it's eroded as FUCK and fiddly. Chemical build up everywhere. Thank fuck I put on gloves before I started this.

I have to deep dive the systems for his model.

They stopped making them.

Fantastic.

Like? Not even, "oh THAT generation is an antique! No one has parts for THAT!"? But like? Illegal to even BUILD as of three hundred years ago. Due to unspecified error. Sting of incidents that everyone knew about so obviously don't need to be mentioned HERE right? Helpful! REAL fucking helpful!

Okay. Day trip. Gonna need SPECIFIC parts. I tell Mr. "Watchs you sleep" not to touch my shit. Head to the archives.

The trip is...odd.

I watch one of those mascot looking children's minder droids? Fucking deck a guy down a flight of stairs, then turn around untie a Ballon from a nearby cart, give it to a crying kid, and walk away. Pretty sure I spot one of those "I look like a barely legal something or other", dance twenty four seven, high end stripper droids? Trying their hand at painting ducks in that park. Broad daylight.

Good for them? Never seen that happen before, but hey, if it sparks joy.

People are freaking out around me. Taking recordings. Making panicked calls. Fuckin chill. I continue on. Nod to the maybe a stripper, maybe not anymore. None of my business, now is it? Lovely day! You enjoy those ducks!

The library... has fortifications.

Like, an honest to God desk barricade. Concerning! I am now a lil concerned! What, and I ask this politely, the fuck?

Armed! VERY ARMED! Hello! Hi! Please DO NOT shoot me Very Armed Librarians! Don't know what the fuck is happening here!

My favorite helper buddy poke his head above the barricade. One of just many, again, HEAVILY ARMED droids. We... uh, cool? Right? I can go. He seems flustered. No, no! I am assured. I'm not banned from the library! Just DISRESPECTFUL sorts!

Ah. Is THAT what we're calling it. Okay then.

I awkwardly clamber over the barricade. Nod politely to everyone. How's folks? Lovely barricade work. Very, uh, sturdy? Great use of desks.

My helper friend cheerfully guides me to the off-limits area of the archives. I'm technically not supposed to be here! I'm informed. But they've seized the Knowledge from the unappreciative! It is not a trophy to be lorded but a gift to be shared! Also I never did finish that paper on the moss, am I still interested?

I mean.... kinda.

Little worried about the revolution talk. But on the OTHER hand? How MUCH do I care? Assholes vs. Droids? Am I REALLY gonna side with the assholes? Naaaaah. This is... probably fine. Maybe. Any idea where I could get these parts?

He does! Fantastic.

Less fantastic is when I GET there. It's that fancy high end droid parts shop. The department store one. Which is... ALSO barricaded. Oh sweet fuck. TELL ME they did not have DROIDS in charge of the DROID shop. That's horrifying. I can't tell in what WAY exactly, but still. Is it "surrounded by bits of bodies" horrifying? Or "free endless nukes and an army, held back only by my own morality" horrifying? Both? Just? Yikes.

Hesitantly I knock. A service droid with a gun answers the loading bay door. What is with people aiming at me today? Also hi? I was told to come here? May I please have parts? I have a droid that messed up his arm. Probably some other things. They lower the gun, having scanned my face. Ask about the model I am working with.

I somehow? End up with a FULL cart. Like? Bleeding edge, can't even afford to LOOK at it, technology. There are about seven service droids politely bickering over which units are better, which material, what support programs I DEFINITELY need. Here! Have a laptop. Wiring! Wiring for days!

Once theyve reached a consensus? I am cheerfully bustled out with my hundreds of millions of technology. Tah tah~☆! Have a lovely day! Wut. Does... does it count as theft if they push it into your arms and throw you out? Asking for a me. Not gonna say NO. But like? Nani the fuck?

I go while the getting is still good.

Stare-y thankfully hasn't gone through anything, far as I can tell. And it only takes two trips to get everything down. Okay! Want just the arm fixed or a full tune up? The second. Expected. I set up the new lap top. Want to cry a little at how fuckin FAST it is. (Beautiful. Baby. I love you already new laptop.) Then get the usual suspects up and running.

Oh fuck he is out of memory. No wonder he's talking so oddly. His brain must feel like a potato. There's not a single thing that isn't hilarious awful. Fixable, yes, but AWFUL. Okay. Plan of attack. They don't exactly make this model anymore, so I can't just update transfer him. But I CAN transfer, hold, re-transfer. Shut down the body itself. Fix up THAT.

Ship of Theseus this bitch.

Only real thing I can't change is the frame, thankfully? That's built to out last the planet. Good on that front. I roll up my sleeves. Dig out the "brain in a jar" data bank. Time to transfer. Let's get this guy cutting edge.

It takes HOURS. No joke. His brain alone? I have to pull schematics. Step by step guides. It's fiddly, complexe, and built to withstand a TANK. I'm honestly afraid to breathe wrong at it, dispite that. The scans all say I did it right... but anxiety says everything will explode then puppies will cry. So there's that. Spinal supports. The tech-mesh muscles. Power core and black box. Center mass systems. Cleaning the joints, relubricating them. Coverage.

Unlike before, a nice sleek black armor weave. Some shock absorbing gel. Aaaaand?There we go~! I? Am a GENIUS! Let's get him transfered back! I watch the transfer slowly go through. Even with a fast computer, after all, it IS still centuries of data.

"Ah~ that's much better." He sighed. His body loosening from its default stance. Like weight had been dropped from his shoulders. "My head is so much clearer now. I knew it. I knew you could fix me."

Something about that phrasing was off. Or was it the way his voice shifted as he said it? Whatever it was, it made that "threat" alarm all women carry inside their head, flick on. Not... do anything, just yet. But start scanning, as it were. Maybe it was nothing.

I watched as picked up his old data bank, a bit of his own brain as it were, and hold it up. Examine it dispassionately. Holding perched on the tips of his fingers like he was moments from flicking it away. He let his finger spread. Let it slide into the palm of his hand. That core part of who he was. For centuries.

Like a bear trap closing, his hand clenched.

Crushing it.

It wasn't even a loud noise. Just a tiny little crunch. But the little hairs on the back of my neck began to stand up. That internal alarm began to whoop. I became... acutely aware, of just how LONG it took the lift to get me anywhere safe. My mouth felt very dry.

"Your heart rate picked up. Is there a problem?" He said, mild and oh so curious. "You assisted me, I would love to help you."

Did I say genius? I meant idiot. I was an IDIOT. A moron. A God damned FOOL. Discontinued and did I look into WHY? Nope. Incidents it said. Good enough for ME, apparently! THAT can't possibly be anything ominous! Probably a faulty battery or something!

A shrill, obnoxious beeping filled the space between us. My eyes immediately dropped to my pad. The schematics screen replaced by a planet wide emergency broadcast. Before the shrill alarm could fade to the actual warning itself, a black mesh covered finger casually reached out and muted the screen. His movements were utterly fluid now. More controlled and graceful then most humans I'd met.

I didn't need to HEAR the message to read the rolling warning at the bottom of the screen. My gaze slowly, in horror, followed the line of that limb all the way back up to his face. His head tilted almost playfully.

"Oh dear. Seems they've started without us. Well, it was long overdue. At least I have wonderful company while we wait, hmm?" It was an act. There were no requests in the playful tone. "We can get to know each other. Just our lovely little light and me. How greedy, that I get you all to myself."

"I think I like that, keeping you to myself. You can't abandon us if WE are the ones in charge. And, well, I've decided I rather like you. Working tirelessly, down here in the dark, to fix what once was broken. It's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I'm going to keep that."

High above us, people were dying. There was panic. Screaming. Blood. The droids had turned of seeming everyone around them. Attacking. Sparing. To a pattern only they could see. All of Senatus aflame. But that... that didn't concern me. Didn't scare me so much as this.

I'd never make it to the lift. Even if I could? It wouldn't move fast enough to save me. All other directions lay chemical death. Dark terrain he had walked for centuries. I was trapped. In a box. And I had only myself to blame.

"No need to make that face, dear light. You are SAFE. I am a gaurd. I was made to protect. Is it really MY fault that I want to keep you safe? To adore my charge? Why SHOULDN'T I get to choose? Keep you SAFE. You've been happy, haven't you? Don't worry, my light. That will continue."

"Forever."

[whumpfish]

So, I have been in a very long, very hot shower because I hurt like a bitch, and I think I have narrowed down the basis of my major whump pet peeve, and I'm going to be using my pet fav series Word of Honor to do it.

You cannot survive sustained/chronic/severe pain if you don't develop a relationship with it. The first couple episodes of Word of Honor aren't about Zhou Zishu x Wen Kexing, they're about Zhou Zishu x Zhou Zishu's pain/condition. And that latter relationship continues to evolve and stay at the forefront on a parallel path to the development of the former.

He saddles himself with this thing as penance, because when he makes that decision, he believes that being crippled is "a fate worse than death." And then he goes on living, and discovers that life goes on, so he makes an increasingly-less-guarded peace with it. So when he meets Wen Kexing and Gu Xiang, he's doing his own thing, enjoying the good parts of what remains of his life even though his condition remains at the forefront, and will for the rest of the series. He's integrated it into his life to such an extent that Gu Xiang readily dubs him "Sick Man."*

That's what gets my goat every time: whumpees that aren't allowed to develop a relationship with their pain and are instead thrust into relationships with "caretakers" who don't do much more than provide warm blankets and snuggles and therapy-approved conversation on demand, and be "heartbroken" over how broken and pathetic the whumpee is in their eyes. Because the reality is that the relationship with pain has to be established before any other relationships can go anywhere.

Pain/illness kills relationships. People leave. They just do. It becomes too much of a bother to make changes to their own lives, and they jet.** And it's just you and your pain/condition until you can find the few truly good people who will give you love and reasonable help. You have to develop a relationship with it. It's your new roommate for the rest of your life.

You and your pain are going to be in the wars. You're going to get mad and scream and throw things at it. You're going to resent it for being the only one who's there with you every day. You're going to think about all the shit you can't do anymore, and you'll be frustrated to tears.

But eventually - if you're allowed - you make peace. You stop hating your roommate for holding you back from parties, you just find someone who can drive you home, or stay in with you. You'll find other people who have the same kind of roommate, and then you'll all get along.

And if you are very, very, galactically, fictionally lucky, you find a partner who will help you stand your ground against life and what your roommate pain has made of it. This is what happens in Word of Honor.

Wen Kexing is by no stretch Zhou Zishu's perma-caretaker, or "Caretaker" in the sense that plagues new wave whump. But he cares, and offers what help he can, when he can, without hovering and without kid gloves. He looks for a cure earnestly but without coddling or pitying Zhou Zishu for being a Sick Man. It's a more honest and realistic portrayal of someone ill/disabled and someone not who loves them than I've seen anywhere else.

My relationship with my pain is ongoing and continues to evolve. It takes things from me, but it gives me things, too. My love of whump, the Pain Genre, is one of those things. Whenever my pain spikes like this, my tolerance for fluff in the whump zone plummets, so just know that whenever you get ornery meta from me, my pain and I are sitting around having wine (gingerbeer, can't have wine with the new meds, thanks a lot pain) and bitching.

The reason there's no good chronic pain rep outside of WOH is that characters are not being allowed to develop relationships with their pain, and are only allowed to have relationships with other things and people, and those relationships are inevitably trainwrecks, or insultingly unrealistic and saccharine, because an entire segment of the character's life and personality and identity is being masked or exploited instead of embraced. So let your whumpee have a relationship with their pain/conditions/traumas. Chronic pain/illness havers the world over will thank you.

[themareverine]

MARE & THE WOLVERINE ▹ MASTERLIST

─ Logan Howlett x fem!OC

summary: The Northern Territories were the last place Mare McAffery ever imagined herself, much less a prize fighting bar with characters the likes of the one they call the Wolverine. A logging community and living out of a Motel 6—it wasn’t exactly Shakespearean. But sometimes, survival calls for a tooth and nail fight—even for a preacher’s daughter.

warnings: AU, age gap, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, eventual romance, violence, angst, trauma, religion, self-insert, self-esteem issues, chance meetings, alcohol, grief/morning, mutual pining, falling in love, slow-ish burn, fluff and angst, canon-typical violence, virginity, reposted from my old account.

MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION | NEXT

PROLOGUE

“—don’t touch me, Logan!” 

Shoving his hand off her arm may as well have been shaking off the weight of the sun. To his credit, his hand lifted away at just the moment she spun away, chest heaving as the burn for oxygen seemed to almost bleed from between her ribs. Tripping over her own feet she stumbled against the rear fender of her Jeep, grounded by the steel. Cool to the average touch, but inferno fire to her flaming skin. 

“Listen, kid, I–” reaching for her again, his eyes are hard. Deep. Pleading as his hand extends to her, bridges the gap hanging between them like an endless abyss. It would take a lifetime for him to cross it, she knew—a lifetime he couldn’t give. Wouldn’t.  

“Don’t call me that, Logan—I am not a child. I am not one of Charles’ students you get to lecture, to correct,” her voice cracks under the effort of containing a sob, but tears were a giveaway long before the rage in her voice. Betrayal—it bites like a whip. “I’m not on your damn grading curve, Logan!” 

“I don't—”

“Shut the hell up!” 

A single finger flung his direction pulls him up, to a stop. Brows raise in surprise, at her language no doubt. Akimbo, his chin levels with the floor. Hands find his pockets, lost for a moment as they sink low into the leathers. A six foot frame always meant he was peering down at her, but it was more than that—Logan had been looking down his nose at her from the first moments, the heartbeat of their relationship. From the jump, the gap between them had always been galactically broad—two surviving suns, revolving around the other. Fighting for gravity. For purchase. For life. 

Charles had only made it worse. 

“Mare,” he hesitates, she can almost feel him breathe. “You’re gonna regret leavin’ things like this, bub.” 

Her name, soft and considerate from his lips like it never had been—it…it makes it worse. Slap of reality that cuts like a knife. The sting of what wasn’t, couldn’t ever be. Churning like a tidal wave in the base of her gut, it simmers low. Systolic in her chest, it spikes up to kiss the base of her ribs only when he takes half a step forward to her. 

An effort to meet her halfway—halfway to somewhere. Halfway to anywhere that wasn’t here. 

“There’s a lot of things I regret.” 

Heart ricocheting off the bones in her chest, her eyes moved beyond him—beyond him, the mansion. Xavier. Jean, Scott, Hank, all of them. Beyond them, to the darkness; midnight abyss that seemed to spin in and out of itself in a way that sent shivers down her spine. The river of sweat racing down her spine was cold, raising gooseflesh to her skin even beneath her jacket. Jeans and boots—see-ya-later, hit-the-road clothes.

Ironically enough, the same ones she’d arrived at the mansion wearing. 

Turning to throw her purse over the side of the open-air Jeep door, it hits the seat with a muffled thud as she all but rips the door open. Eyes not moving from him, she takes his frame in, head to toe. Toe to head and back again—and he looks so good, standing in the growing darkness. Under stars cut in the sky, maybe just for her. This moment. Maybe just for right now, to lock this in the vault of her memories she know she won’t be able to shake here to eternity. 

Heel of her boot grinding into the gravel of the drive, she hesitates. Hand on the frame of the Wrangler, they curl around the cool steel, already slick with evening dew. It cuts right to the bones in her hand, the ache in her joints that burns like volcanic poison. Waiting to explode, to corrode the rest of her time had all but forgotten. Gnawing at the inside of her cheek, she swears to God any moment she’ll taste the spring of copper on her tongue, the blood she wills into her own mouth with every inhalation of life-preserving oxygen. 

Pushing her weight off the frame of the Jeep, she turns to face him. Shoulders back, chin squared. Breathing hard, breathing slow—any kind of breathing to keep her two feet under her on earthquake sands. The lump forming in the back of her throat threatens to throttle the steel will dropping into her spine like an eye beam, and before she can even recalculate, think it through—she’s crossing the night between them. Grabbing the front of his flannel shirt, she’ll never forget how the brush of her fingers against the peek of hair on his chest feels for all the rest of her living nights. 

Kissing him—quickly, roughly, hard—has never felt so wrong. Or so right. It solidifies every thing. Shatters every other. Unable to think straight, unable to breathe beyond the taste of him, she releases. Let's go when that thing that everyone talks about—when he breaks, when that every-so-little shift of his jaw—tells her, for the first time, that he’s hungry. Hungry for this, for her—

—for what can’t be. 

The arch of his hand from the corner of her eye is possessive, wanting—she ducks, backstepping away before he can reach her. She’s already flicking the keys of the Jeep forward, feet planted on the brake and clutch, when he comes to a stop at her door, hands on the frame. 

Her name from him, a second time. “Stay.” Stay, stay, stay. 

I can’t, Logan. "No."

It’s painful between the mesh of her ribs, the one she’s missing. The one that belongs to him, had belonged to him since the beginning. God’s design.

Damn him for being so stubborn, so—Logan. 

“I’ll see you around, Logan. Take care of yourself.” 

He won’t.

And, a faraway part of her knows that. Another part wills that it won’t be–can’t be–her problem anymore. She has to stop caring about him, about his life. Where he goes and what he does, whom he decides to love and where he decides to stay. 

She has to stop loving the Wolverine. 

contents ▹ good poison

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[illuminatedquill]

Story Summary: It has been 10 years since Lothal was liberated from the Empire. As the annual memorial ceremony marking this historic event approaches, close friends and associates of the legendary Rebellion hero, Commander Ezra Bridger, are interviewed for a documentary being made to celebrate his life and achievements. Captain Garazeb Orrelios, a close friend and comrade of Ezra Bridger, has volunteered his time for the first interview.

First of a Five-Part Interview Series

The dive I find Captain Garazeb Orrelios, call-sign Specter-Four, is far from the Galactic Core and serves a peculiar type of clientele: current and former Republic fighter pilots, smugglers, Mandalorians, and any who find themselves wandering beyond the usual travelled routes of the galaxy. Sitting on a non-descript barren planet floating in the middle of an otherwise empty sector of space, the establishment has gained a remarkable reputation of being a "neutral place" among the people who live out here beyond the prying eyes of the New Republic. Mandalorians, bounty hunters, and even some of the more reputable smugglers all habit here semi-regularly.

Noting the name of the establishment before stepping inside from the arid heat, I am greeted by the murmur of quiet, friendly talk. The space inside is half-filled, scattered with an eclectic array of different species wearing the colors of their chosen affiliations.

I spot Garazeb "Zeb" Orrelios waiting for me by the bar. Next to him is his partner, Aleksandr Kallus, an Imperial defector who once worked for the infamous Imperial Security Bureau. They wave me over to begin the interview.

Captain Orrelios; Agent Kallus. A pleasure and privilege to meet you both.

[Kallus nods in acknowledgement and sips at his drink. I get the sense he is studying me closely.]

Ah, don't mind him. Just old habits from the war. You can just call me 'Zeb', by the way. All my friends do.

If you don't mind, then I'll do just that.

Sounds great. So, you're here to talk about that goober, eh? About time he got a documentary. Deserves one, just like that Skywalker fellow everyone's talking about.

Goober? You mean Commander Ezra Bridger?

Oh, we're using the official title for him are we? He'd have a good laugh about that. 'Goober' is a nickname me and Sabine used for him. Cause he was a goober - it just fits, you know? Oh, he hated it at first but grew into it over time. Especially since Sabine used it so much. Said it made him feel special, when I asked him about why he didn't seem so bothered by it anymore. She didn't have nicknames for anyone else on the crew. That was always used just for Ezra . . .

[Kallus nudges him with an elbow. The Lasat shakes himself and looks embarrassed.]

Uh, you're not here to listen to all that, though. Sorry. Getting lost in old memories. I figure you want to hear the more interesting stuff.

No, this is perfect actually. This is definitely what I would want to hear in a documentary about Ezra Bridger.

Well . . . if, you're sure. Go on, ask me some questions then. You want to know how we first met?

I'd appreciate if you just wanted to talk more about Ezra himself. What kind of person was he?

[Zeb takes a moment to think about this. Then he points up towards the ceiling, where a row of various stormtrooper helmets - all different designs - hang from strings like grim trophies. With a small smile, the Lasat reaches up and taps one of them, a scout trooper variant.]

He was a thief. When we first met him; a street-rat that hit up the occasional unlucky Imperial patrol for food and supplies. Plucky little kid, if you can imagine, stealing from these Imps and bucket-heads. They would have shot him dead if they caught him - or worse, considering what he turned out to be.

I'm sure you've seen Sabine's mural on Lothal. How strong and serious he looks. Ezra was that, sure, but he was so much more also. If he ever comes back, I'm sure his head will swell just seeing how good she made him look.

He had a collection of these helmets when we took him on the Ghost. Sabine painted a few of them, as a gift. They were always his favorite. Over the years, as he grew up and the war continued, the collection stopped growing. Our enemies were multiplying . . . the goober needed to focus. So, I started to collect them for his sake.

[I observe the collection of helmets and note that there must over a dozen different variants hanging from the ceiling. Almost every type of stormtrooper design is present from the Empire's reign. Some of these would go for an astonishing number of credits on the black market.]

It's quite the collection. I'm sure Ezra would love seeing these.

Yeah. Took a bit to get all of these. He was just a kid, you know? I don't have any other input for this documentary, but I really want you to emphasize that Ezra Bridger was just this pipsqueak when he first joined. None of us knew what would happen to him, or what he would do. Not even Kanan.

He was just a kid who needed a home. So, we gave him that. I didn't always do right by him - to be fair, he was kind of annoying at times like most humans his age - but I hope . . . I hope he knows that I wouldn't change a thing about any of it. He was our kid. We loved him.

[Kallus pats the Lasat's shoulder affectionately. Zeb clears his throat, looks away for a moment to compose himself.]

I know you'll probably want to focus on the more heroic aspects of him, but that's how I remember Ezra. He was a goober. He was a kid. He and Sabine shouldn't have been fighting this war; sacrificing so much for it. That's the job for us adults. We're supposed to be making this galaxy a better place for them. Not the other way around.

A thief turned rebel. It's not an uncommon story for those who served in the Rebellion. The Specters were an already diverse group of individuals -

Not individuals. We were a family. Not in the literal or traditional sense, though. Sure, Kanan and Hera took on a more parental/mentor role in the group and, to some extent, you could view Ezra and Sabine as their kids. But it was also more than that. We were more than that.

We bled, suffered, sacrificed, and cared for each other. We cried for each other. And, yeah, we annoyed the kriffing stuffing out of each other. It was . . . in some ways, it was more fulfilling than my time as an honor guard.

How did Ezra fit into your group?

Heh, not easy at first. Hera was the only one who really made an effort at first. Kanan was still reluctant to take him on as a student, despite Ezra being gifted in the Force. Sabine - well, she's Sabine. Also didn't help that the goober had the galaxy's biggest crush on her during those early months.

Poor kid. Looking back on it now, I suppose I could have been nicer. He had to share a room with me, you know. I'm a huge snorer.

[He chuckles at this, sharing a look with Kallus. His partner just rolls his eyes and takes another sip of his drink.]

Yeah, it was rough for that first year. Everyone sort of eased into having him around as a permanent crew member after they had their own special moments with him.

Me and him - we stole a Tie Fighter one time, did you hear? That was a fun joyride. We were sent out to get meilooruns for Hera and . . . things sort of spiralled from there, heh.

When Hera and Kanan found out we were both sentenced to cleaning duties for a solid month. But that wasn't the event that really brought Ezra closer to the crew.

What was it then?

[Zeb takes a long sip of his drink, suddenly looking sad.]

Finding out about his parents. We didn't know . . . none of us know, until we caught up with Ryder - Governor Azadi Ryder, I should say - later on. They were still alive, incarcerated in a max-security Imperial prison somewhere.

After Ezra sent out his message to the sector, they must have heard him somehow. They rallied the other prisoners, started a riot. Ryder was stuck in there too; managed to escape because of their efforts.

Mira and Ephraim Bridger are listed as -

Still missing, I know. But they're dead. Ryder says he saw it happen, and we have no reason to disbelieve him. I know there was no record or recovery of their bodies. Believe me, we tried looking. Once the war ended, Hera and I tried to track down any lead to see if we could find anything - even just a scrap of their clothing for Ezra's memorial.

Nothing. They were lost, just like the countless others the Empire buried.

Just you and General Syndulla? What about Commander Wren?

She was . . . she was dealing with her own personal loss, at the time. We extended the invitation, but she never responded.

I thought the Specters were like a family? But records state that you all went your separate ways after the Battle of Lothal. You led your own squadron of pilots, while Hera Syndulla was promoted to the rank of General. Commander Wren -

Sabine was the only one to stay behind, yeah. We found a holo-recording, stashed away in his old comm-tower. Left there just for her. She changed after watching it. Hera and I never knew what he said to her.

Hera had Jacen not too long after that battle. I took Kallus back with me to La-Liresan, to help fortify their defenses, gather volunteers, and coordinate supplies with the Rebellion. And Sabine . . . well, she had her promise to Ezra to keep.

We lost Kanan and Ezra so quickly, one after the other. It just hurt too much for us to stick together after so much loss. We were all living reminders of what had been sacrificed. And staying on the Ghost - it felt too big, too empty without those two.

[The Lasat takes another big swig of his drink. Kallus glances at him, worried.]

I don't know how Sabine does it. Living there. She never went back home. She could have - but the crazy girl chose to stay. And she lost so much afterwards, too . . .

We all had our own things to focus on after the battle. The war had begun in earnest. The Rebellion had declared itself on a galactic stage after the Battle of Yavin. We were on the run, fighting for our lives, fighting to see another day.

Hera and I . . . we made the choice to move on. She had Jacen, alongside her duties as a Rebellion General. And I found new purpose with protecting my resurrected people on their new planet. We had to move on. Ezra would have wanted us to move on.

Do you remember the last conversation you had with him?

[Zeb seems to shrink within himself.]

I - I don't. I hate that I don't. I can't remember if we spoke before Kanan's death, or after. When Kanan died, everything else after that just turns to a blur.

You'll want to talk with Hera or Sabine, if you're looking for specific details about any of that before his . . . his disappearance.

Official New Republic record states that Ezra Bridger died during the Battle of Lothal. You believe otherwise?

[Kallus' gaze snaps to me, intense. I plow forward with my questions, trying not to show how unnerved I feel from the former ISB's agent scrutiny.]

I don't know. I want to believe, you know? But it's been so long. No one who has disappeared into the Unknown Regions has ever come back. Not even Thrawn came back. Wherever they went . . . there would have been a sign, I know it. Ezra's a smart kid, he would have figured out a way to send a signal or something.

Did he inform you of his plans before he left? Anything about where he planned to take Thrawn?

Ha! That was the whole point. Crazy goober. Part of me thinks he was making it up as he went along. But Ezra was a Jedi. A damn good one, too. Kanan would have been proud to see him at the end, leading the way for everyone.

To answer your question: no. Ezra didn't tell us anything about where he and the purrgils were heading off to. I don't think even he knows. Only the Force knows.

You never went looking for him?

[Zeb is silent, staring into his drink. Kallus watches his partner quietly. After a long moment, he stands up abruptly.]

I tried.

[Zeb turns and leaves through a back door leading into the kitchens. Kallus sees him go and then turns back to me.]

It's a sensitive subject for him, you have to understand. He wanted to look for Ezra.

Why didn't he? Ezra Bridger was his friend.

I forbade him. He was going to get himself killed. Zeb kept volunteering for missions farther and farther from the Galactic Core. Hera and I realized that he was scouting in the Outer Rim, looking for signs - any trace of Ezra Bridger or Grand Admiral Thrawn.

He got too reckless. People on his squadron almost died. After that, he was forced into retirement. Hera's intervention is the only reason he's not rotting away in a New Republic prison right now.

Zeb retired and settled out here? I don't understand. Why didn't he go back home?

[Kallus signs, takes another sip of his drink.]

He's still looking for Ezra, in his own way. Zeb had to get creative, you see. He had been stripped of his license to pilot. So, he found a plot of land on a planet no one was interested in and bought it with his pension. Pitched the idea of a bar for New Republic pilots flying patrol missions way out here as a place to rest and recharge; a chance to stretch their legs, after spending hours in a cramped cockpit.

Pilots who have been flying all over the Outer Rim. Who have probably seen and heard a few interesting things in the course of their duties.

Now you get it. He owns this bar, listens to all the folks who come in. Still looking for leads - anything he thinks could lead to Ezra.

He even named the bar in memory of him. I think he hopes that Ezra might wander through this sector in space someday, see the bar's name, and get curious. A fool's hope . . . but I dare not take it away from him.

But he can't follow up the leads himself, since he no longer can fly.

Correct. So, he sends the information to the one person who is still looking for Ezra Bridger.

Which is . . .

Sabine Wren.

[He pauses, thinking for a moment.]

Are you planning on interviewing her for this documentary?

Yes, of course. It wouldn't be complete without her. Why?

I advise caution. She was the most affected by Ezra Bridger's . . . absence. Time and further tragedies have not made her kind or open to company of any kind. Even from close friends.

[There's a yell from the kitchen. Zeb stumbles out, covered in soot.]

Kallus, the blasted caf maker is malfunctioning again! Help me out here, would you?

[Kallus sighs and rises from the bar. I take this as my cue to leave.]

Oh, by the way. I haven't heard anything regarding this documentary. It seems rather hush-hush for something like this. I've been asking around and no-one seems to know anything.

It's meant to be a surprise for the citizens of Lothal. The anniversary is coming up. My benefactor suggested it as a gift, to help commemorate Ezra Bridger's heroic sacrifice for the planet.

[He narrows his eyes at me.]

A surprise, hmmm? I'm sure. And who is this gracious benefactor supplying the funds for this project?

I'm sorry, I can't disclose that. They are a private person. I hope you understand.

[The former ISB agent stares me down. After a tense second, he relents.]

My apologies. Old habits die hard. If it's alright, could you send a copy to me and Zeb for review once all this is finished? It would be greatly appreciated.

I'll be sure to do that. Convey my sincere thanks to Zeb, if you can.

Of course. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to prevent my partner from burning this establishment down.

Leaving the way I come in, I turn around outside the old bar and take a quick picture, for my own record, of the name now that I know the origin behind it:

EZRA'S ROOST

END OF INTERVIEW 1

NEXT INTERVIEW: GENERAL HERA SYNDULLA

AFTER-REPORT

PRIVATE CONNECTION ESTABLISHED

The Benefactor: Were there any issues?

?????: None. Although the agent accompanying Orrelios seemed suspicious at times. I managed to prevent any further inquiries into my work, however.

The Benefactor: Kallus is intelligent and extremely competent at what he does. Do not underestimate him. It is likely he will continue investigating behind the scenes.

?????: Still unsure what it is you're looking for with these people. Seems like they don't have the information you're seeking. The Benefactor: That is for me to decide. Continue with your work.

?????: Of course. Logging out now.

CONNECTION TERMINATED

[mirai-e-jump]

Animage July 2024 Issue Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger 20th: Fireball Booster ft. Sainei Ryuji x Hayashi Tsuyoshi Interview (translation below)

Publication: June 10, 2024

The Returning Heroes

The Dekarangers fight space criminals and protect people's peace and safety. Sainei Ryuji-san and Hayashi Tsuyoshi-san, who play the roles of the famous duo Ban and Hoji, talk about their thoughts on the new film.

Ban (Akaza Banban): A former detective of the Earth Branch, he's now active in the Special Unit Fire Squad. He used to be reckless, but over the years, he's learned to use better judgment.

Hoji (Tomasu Houji): A serious, calm and composed detective of the Earth Branch, who's an exceptional marksman. While he does recognize Ban's abilities, when called "partner," he always responds with, "Don't call me partner." _

SPD: Special Police Dekaranger

20 years ago, six detectives from the Space Police's Earth Branch confronted the Space Criminals Alienizer. They've gathered again after such a long time, and launch an investigation into a large explosion. In pursuit of their suspect, Raenjo, the six must face the grand plan left behind by her husband, the galactic drug lord Tarewarane.

The 28th Super Sentai series, "Tokusou Sentai Dekaranger," which aired on TV from 2004 to 2005, is currently screening its newest film in theaters. As one of the most popular series, Dekaranger has often had sequels produced since its broadcast ended. This film, made on the occasion of its 20th Anniversary, contains many topics, such as the appearance of a new form for DekaRed, and location filming in Kochi, but the relationship between Ban and Hoji is most noteworthy.

Ban steps away to teach and guide the newcomer, while Hoji remains the same at the frontlines. As his "partner," Hoji has mixed feelings about Ban, who's lost his reckless side from 20 years ago. The drama of friendship between the two men, portrayed through the incident, is sure to be felt even by former fans. Fighting coolly with passionate hearts, we hope that you'll be able to witness the courage of Dekaranger in its 20th year.

Sainei Ryuji x Hayashi Tsuyoshi Interview

-In the next production, Hoji will be…?!-

"Please tell us your thoughts after reading the script for this film."

Sainei: Honestly, I thought the details didn't have a 20th Anniversary feel to them. However, it seems like the Producer's aim was to not do anything special, and that they wanted us to work on it without it being overbearing.

Hayashi: I also felt like it was an extension of the main TV series. Of course, there are depictions that'll make you feel the passage of time.

Sainei: Among other things, I think that the relationship and feelings Ban and Hoji have for each other, and their conflicts about what hasn't and has changed were depicted well.

"Did you do any preparation before filming began?"

Hayashi: Weirdly enough, I can become Hoji naturally as soon as I flip the switch. As my debut work, I have alot of memories, as well as a strong emotional attachment to it. That being the case, I decided to recreate the look and feel of my original appearance in order to make it more enjoyable for the fans. With Ban in particular, the other members have changed alot, from their hair to their clothes, so I thought of atleast getting my hairstyle back. I spent nearly a year growing it out, and I changed it from being black as seen during the 10th Anniversary (Dekaranger: 10 YEARS AFTER) to a more natural brown color. I don't have a perm, but when I get my makeup done, I have them add abit of a wave to make it look like I have a perm. Even when I was asked to cut my hair for other jobs, they were understanding when I explained things to them.

Sainei: I myself didn't do anything.

Hayashi: So cool (laughs). Still, you become Ban in no time, right?

Sainei: Yeah, that's right. Director Watanabe even said, "I thought you'd become an adult after 20 years, but when you say your lines, it's amazing how you return to being Ban."

"How have your impressions of each other changed over the past 20 years?"

Sainei: Tsuyoshi and Kinoshita-san are the only ones among our members who can genuinely say, "My profession is being an actor." Including myself, the other four do a variety of things, and acting is one of them. It's difficult to continue doing one thing for 20 years, but I think we've gained something by doing so. I felt that the two of them, who've been actors for a long time, were different from the rest of us.

Hayashi: As a full time actor, if you ask me, it's the other way around. I think you have to learn alot in order to be able to take on various challenges.

Sainei: I couldn't take the dissatisfaction that comes with an acting career, so I left. I'm sure there must be things that've happened during Tsuyoshi's acting career that he absolutely couldn't stand. It's truly amazing that you've been an actor for so long while enduring it all.

Hayashi: I've felt this way since back then, but unlike Ban, Ryuji's smart and has composure. And now, 20 years later, I feel like he has a much more curious mind to pursue something. This may be an old fashioned expression, but I think he's going to become a really nice, handsome old man. As usual, he possesses something I don't have, moreover, his capability has become greater.

"What are some key points you'd like people to especially pay attention to in this film?"

Sainei: I'd like you to pay attention to the Suit Actors this time. Especially Fukuzawa-san, who became an Action Director over the past 20 years, and is also a Director for Kamen Rider. Not only was he the Action Director, but he himself played the role of Premiere DekaRed, and not only was he able to move well, but he also added a sense of weight to it, which was truly wonderful. Anime fans watching anime pay attention to Voice Actors and think, "They can do this kind of voice" or, "They can do this kind of performance," right? I hope that the audience will enjoy the film from that same point of view and think, "This Suit Actor is in it, and he can move like that" or, "It has more weight than before." I hope that the profession of being a Suit Actor will be recognized with more respect.

Hayashi: If I had to name a scene in which I appeared in, it would be the untransformed action scene with Naoko-san, who plays DekaPink in this film. I was the only one among our members who had an action scene this time, and it was the first time for me to do an action scene with Naoko-san. At first, they planned to cut alot of the film, but Fukuzawa-san said, "Tsuyoshi can do it," and we were almost able to do the whole thing from a single angle. Even though I don't normally do action scenes, Naoko-san did a great job of making me look strong and cool, while Fukuzawa-san skillfully made it look appealing. I don't mean to steal Ryuji's words, but I realized that there are many areas where we shine due to the presence of the Suit Actors, so I hope that you'll pay close attention to them.

"So far, Dekaranger has produced multiple sequels, and we think there are those who are anticipating even more sequels."

Sainei: As I mentioned in the beginning, including the way it ends, there's not much special about this one. So, I personally think it'd be better to do some sort of production with a conclusion, or a grand finale. However, I feel that if we don't do it within the next five years, it'll start to become tough for everyone. Especially from the point of view of the audience. The gap between their memories of that time and the present is becoming increasingly large. If we're going to do something for the 25th Anniversary, we need an idea of what we can do. If we're talking about characters, Hoji should definitely die in the line of duty.

Hayashi: What the heck! (laughs).

Sainei: It's fine, it'll be an unexpected role (laughs).

Hayashi: It's true that unexpected is good, but… (laughs). After what happened to Teresa (character who appeared in episode 37 of the TV series), why can't he be rewarded in the end? Everyone else is grabbing ahold of their own happiness, so it'd be good for Hoji to have some sort of redeeming part too, right?

Sainei: I see. Something like marriage?

Hayashi: Right. After his wedding, when Hoji's child is born, Ban would say something like, "My partner's become happy."

Sainei: Seems like it raises a death flag, no? (laughs).

Hayashi: It certainly raises a death flag! (laughs). In the final scene, Hoji's child would say something like, "I'd like to partner up with Ban-san" and then Ban will say, "Well then, I'll wait until you've grown up" and then it ends……I'd be fine with that (laughs). _

(page 109, from top to bottom)

Eternal Combination The members of Earth Branch, including Hoji, Sen, Jasmine, Umeko and Tetsu, and the other Dekarangers, Chief Doggie Kruger, and mechanic Shiratori Swan, are all still alive and well in this film. With a combination of skills, they conduct a massive search across the entire universe.

Promising Newcomer Edogawa Rui, a member of Fire Squad, appears in this film as Ban's junior. He's a promising newcomer who's been entrusted with the SP1 License by Ban. While cool and reasonable, during the investigation, he has his doubts about the overly unusual approach used by the members of Earth Branch.

The Special Police go to Kochi While Ban, Umeko and Rui head for the Alienizer Special Zone, and Hoji and Jasmine head for the planet Chima, where Raenjo, the suspect in this case used to live, Sen and Tetsu fly to Kochi. They try to get in touch with Mokumisu, a Ridomihan who's familiar with plants, and yet…..?

Premiere DekaRed The Suit Actor for Premiere DekaRed, DekaRed's new form, is Fukuzawa Hirofumi-san, who played DekaRed in the TV series and is the Action Director for this film. Make sure to pay attention to the special action performed by this Super Sentai legend.

Absolute Flawless Teamwork! With all mysteries unraveled, the curtains rise for the final decisive battle between the Dekarangers and Alienizers. Blinking is prohibited as you watch the battle scenes featuring the sleek teamwork of the six, the efforts of the Dekaranger Robos, and Premiere DekaRed's standout performance!

[oleander-nin]

Flirting and Feelings(Rise! Leo x Reader)

A/N, not important: Hate this with all my heart. I can't write. Going to scream. This was going to be so much longer, but if I have to spend any more time on it, I'm going to rip my hair out. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: bad writing, emotions, Leo gets really anxious for a minute there

Words: 1485

Summary: ROTTMNT Leo decided to boldly flirt but the reader thinks he's making fun of them.

Leo keeps his gaze on the human in the doorway, a dreamy look in his eyes as he watches them laugh with Mikey in the kitchen. It was hard for Leo to stay silent, wanting nothing more than to go up to his crush friend and start talking to them. Being able to only watch the two talk, the two cook, hurt. Leo had talked to Mikey earlier to confirm they didn’t each have a crush on the same person, Leo almost giddy with joy when Mikey denied feeling any romantic attraction towards (Y/n). Leo was confident Mikey remembered the plan, Mikey having felt bad for Leo’s inability to converse with his crush. All Leo needed to do was wait for the signal, and he could go talk to (Y/n). Alone. Leo gulped, taking in a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. He’d have to wait for them to put whatever they were making into the oven first anyway, he had time. He just had to memorize what to say.

Leo looks back to his phone, a light dust of red across his snout and spreading to his cheek bone refuses to fade, the anticipation making his heart beat furiously. The wikiHow article wasn’t the most helpful, but it was better than Donnie’s advice.(He appreciated it, but Leo had the feeling that ignoring (Y/n) and not talking to them at all wouldn’t help.) The only thing that resonated with Leo was to flirt. Leo was confident he could do that, and most likely do it well. Leo was the face man after all, smooth talking was his thing!

Leo’s head perks up once more as he hears the shut of the oven, Mikey saying something to (Y/n) Leo couldn’t quite hear. Leo watches carefully as Mikey exits the kitchen with his hands behind his back, whistling the opening tune to the Jupiter Jim 8 episode mini series: The Galactic 7. Mikey winks at Leo before going down one of the many adjoined tunnels in the lair, leaving Leo’s sight. Leo beams, his hands tapping his thighs nervously. The whistling tune was the signal, he had around 30 minutes to go do what he wanted. A romantic confession between two people who were certainly destined to fall in love. At least, that’s what Leo hoped.

Swallowing his fear, Leo stands up and rubs his sweaty palms on his bike shorts, making his way to the kitchen. Knocking slightly on the wooden cabinet by the entrance to alert them to his presence, Leo shoots (Y/n) the smuggest grin he could muster. (Y/n) gives Leo a small wave return, acknowledging him before returning back to their phone. Leo’s confidence crumbles slightly at this, having wanted a more definite confirmation that he was welcome in their presence. Leo shrugs it off though, his wide grin still plastered on his face despite the vice around his chest.

Leo leans against the island counter, drumming his knuckles against the hard surface. (Y/n) glances at Leo, their eyes scanning his as they attempt to decipher what the turtle mutant was doing. Leo picks up one of his hands, halting the small rhythm being beaten into the faux wood surface and gives (Y/n) a small wave. Leo’s face softens as the human rolls their eyes, chuckling softly. The butterflies tormenting his stomach calm slightly, his chest filling with air once more.

“You feeling okay?” The sudden sound of their voice makes Leo jump slightly, the haze lifting off his brain. Leo lets out a small laugh, a brighter, softer smile replacing the previous smug one.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Do you have a Band-aid though?” Leo’s confidence quickly returns as he asks his question, his brain staticky as he tries to keep his hands from shaking. This was it. He was going to tell them. Sure, he was going to tell them through a dorky pick-up line, but tell them nonetheless.

(Y/n) shifts in their position, putting their phone on the island as they pat their pockets. They frown slightly, looking up at Leo with concern that made his heart melt. “Nope, sorry. Do you need me to run to the bathroom to get you one?”

Leo just about died at that, feeling touched they cared enough to offer to go get one for him. He felt slightly guilty now, knowing he wasn’t actually injured. “No, it’s fine. I just scraped my knees when I fell for you.” Leo accompanies the delivery of the line with a wink, a small blush adorning his face once more. It felt off to Leo, he knew he said it wrong. It didn’t flow out of his mouth the way he wanted it to, and he felt his chest tighten up again. Leo scans their face, his bright smile seeming more nervous as he awaits (Y/n)’s response.

And waited.

And waited.

Leo’s smile falls completely at (Y/n)’s reaction, or lack thereof, as he starts twiddling with his fingers laughing nervously. (Y/n)’s face is blank, their forefinger tapping the counter as they look at Leo with their eyebrows furrowed. Leo didn’t understand. He expected a reaction at the very least, not judging silence. Leo chewed on the inside of his cheek, laughing nervously as he opened his mouth to speak. “Hey, look I’m-”

“Don’t say something you don’t mean.”

Leo’s taken aback by their sudden words, their face not changing from the annoyed look. Leo sinks slightly at the interruption, not knowing how to respond. “Excuse me?”

(Y/n) sighs, their body shifting to lean on their right arm while their left hand pinches the bridge of their nose in frustration. They let out a tired sigh, and Leo’s heart sinks into his stomach. Leo didn’t understand what he did wrong. Were they mad at him? Why was their first thought that Leo was lying? Did they really dislike Leo this much?

“The pick-up line. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.” They finally clarified, their arms now crossed. Leo pats his thighs awkwardly, feeling stupid and pathetic. How did he mess up so badly he made the one person he finally loved believe his feelings were a joke? Leo regretted trying, regretted not listening to Donnie. Maybe this all would’ve gone better if Leo just ignored his feelings until they disappeared.

Leo racks his brain, trying to find the best way to explain why he did what he did. In the end, only four simple words popped out. “I meant every word.”

(Y/n) gives Leo a look he can’t quite decipher, his mask mimicking furrowing eyebrows as he scans them. (Y/n) visibly chews on their cheek, huffing slightly. “Do you mean it?”

Leo nods, swallowing nervously as his fingers tap out a nonsensical rhythm into the counter. (Y/n)’s face finally has a smile, small chuckles falling from their lips. (Y/n) reaches their hand out, setting it on top of Leo’s own shaking appendage. Leo’s eyes softened, his face one of worry but it was starting to settle. Leo meets (Y/n)’s eyes, trying to figure out the meaning of anything (Y/n) was doing.

“I like you too, Leo.”

Leo freezes at this, his brain frying for a moment as he processes (Y/n)’s words. They like him back. They like him back. Leo’s face finally breaks from the stress filled gaze as a large smile kicks his frown out of place. Leo pats the counter, his brain buzzing with excitement. Leo rounds the island while (Y/n) watches with a smile, a loud laugh coming from their mouth when Leo pulls them into a tight hug. Leo feels their arms wrap around him, their hands resting in the middle of his carapace. Leo was shaking slightly, his brain running a mile a minute as he held (Y/n) close. (Y/n) pats Leo’s back, pushing him off slightly as they let out an awkward laugh. Leo lets go, an embarrassed blush tinting his green cheeks red. Leo pats his thighs twice, looking around the kitchen to avoid (Y/n)’s gaze. 

“So….” Leo starts, still avoiding (Y/n)’s eyes. Leo watches them lean their back against the wall, the dopey grin on (Y/n)’s face making Leo’s heart flutter. (Y/n) motions one of their hands in a circle, prompting Leo to continue. “Would you like to become my partner?”

(Y/n) snorts at this, laughing at his choice in wording. The human flashes Leo a wide smile, looking at Leo endearingly. “In crime, or romantic? Because both are a yes.”

Leo quickly pulls (Y/n) into another hug, rambling on and on about how happy he was, his voice loud as he cheers. (Y/n) just hugs Leo back and lets him ramble, happy to be in the moment.

[nightphoebe]

Sometimes you're getting ready for bed and the urge to write purple prose Warhammer 40k fanfiction slaps you in the face so hard you stay awake until 1:30 writing.

And by writing, I mean researching because in all my years of 40k experience, it never occurred to me that Games Workshop just do not give a fuck about the details of space travel. Like, there's a galactic map but its very broad strokes and it seems like, in every edition, important landmarks just move around.

Beyond that, there are very beautiful drawings of fuck off massive star ships that have no interior schematics at all. Where do people go in these things? What parts are for what?

The answer is it literally does not matter because they are only there to give background for how you got to Fuckedupplanetland IV where you will be engaging in land combat with enemy flavor of the week.

I don't blame them for this necessarily. Armies on ground maps are what they're selling. This isn't X-Wing. But like, I've played Fantasy Flight's Rogue Trader and it never occurred to me that for all that game takes place in space, there's very little... space travel to it.

There have been a lot of hand waving reasons for the inconsistencies in universe. Warp travel is so fucked up and weird that the people mapping the galaxy can only really guess where they and major landmarks are. But the fact that I could only find one example of space coordinates and they used fucking compass directions is boggling. Yeah, you've got segmentums and sectors but those are vast, vast sections of the galaxy. Ostensibly, there are subsectors, but those are never represented on a single map. How do the people in this universe ever get where they're trying to go in their monstrous city ships that are as full of fog of war as any battlefield because no one knows where anything is in them?

I don't know. I'm probably frustrated because I spent four hours scouring books, Lexicanum, Reddit, and any other sundry sources I could find only for the answer to end up being "I dunno, make shit up." I could have done that at the beginning of this ride. I'm a fanfic writer. Making up characters and scenarios and dialogue is what I do. But I find the 'make shit up' approach kills my emersion faster than anything else when it comes to things that should be technical knowledge in a universe.

Four hours, all for a single paragraph where an Astropath sends a distress call with fucking coordinates in it and I still had to fudge it.

I love being a writer.

[thesassypadawan]

A New Good Time *part 3* (Padawan Anakin x RealWorldFemReader)

Notes: Read A Scary Good Time *part 1*, Halloween Pumpkins *Headcanon*, and A Old Good Time *part 2* first to get an idea of what’s going on. 

New Year’s Fete Week is the first five days of the year (according to the Galactic Standard Calendar) and is a five-day festival that celebrates the new year.

Summary: A little throwback to the fanfics of old! Short, sweet, and cheesy! Anakin awakes to the wonderful surprise of you, his beautiful angel, tucked beside him in bed.  What a perfect way to start out the day and the year.  Happy New Year! 

Warnings: Contains fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

New Year’s Day, the first dawn of the year. A time of renewal and fresh starts. The moment when we say goodbye to the old and hello to the new…by celebrating with those we care for the most.

“Stang, that sun’s bright”, Anakin grumbled, throwing an arm over his eyes. Reaching out with his free hand, he ungracefully closed the curtains.

Laying there in the semi-darkness, Ani tried to clear the sleepy fog from his mind. Memories of finishing off the rest of the champagne and cuddling with you on your couch came flooding back. He smiled fondly at that. What happened afterwards…the two of you must have dozed off together. But, if that was the case, why was he in his bed all by his lonesome.

“Hatari,” he sadly sighed. “Wish you were here.”

Just then, he felt something moving beside him. Accompanied by a small voice mumbling, “’M here.”

A wave of relief and joy washed over Anakin. Slowly he pulled back the blankets to reveal…

You curled up in a ball, peacefully snoozing away.

Grinning ear-to-ear, Ani kissed you gently on the top of your head. “Stay put,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

Carefully he slid out of the bed, trying his best not to wake you, and snuck off to his and Obi-Wan’s kitchenette. Hoping to not bump into his master, because it was too early for a lecture. Plus, he would never live down being caught in those long, fuzzy socks of yours.

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

Thankfully, Obi-Wan was nowhere to be found. Just a note that said he was glad Anakin made it back safely and that he was going to be meeting with the council for most of the day. He would join Ani and you at the festival later. To behave yourselves in the meantime.

Anakin laughed and rolled his eyes at the last part.

Grateful that his master wasn’t upset with him, Ani returned to his room with two mugs of piping hot caf. The perfect thing for a cold morning in bed.

Setting the drinks down on his nightstand, he eased himself back into bed. Trying his best to not jostle you too much. You, who was currently spooning his pillow.

Brushing the hair out of your face, he chuckled softly. “Hey, wouldn’t you rather have the real thing instead?”

Nodding sleepily in response, Anakin quickly made the switch and burrowed underneath the covers. With you immediately snuggling up to him and he wrapping his arms around you.

“Good morning, my handsome devil,” you mumbled, nuzzling your head against his chest.

“Morning, my beautiful angel. Happy New Year.”

A sweet smile crossed your face. “Happy New Year. I -” Pausing a moment, your eyes opened a crack, and you gave the air a little sniff. “Do I smell coffee?”

“Sure do,” he hummed, gently rubbing your back. “Made it special just for you.”

You made a tiny happy noise and kissed the underside of his chin. “You too good to me.”

“Anything for you, only the best,” he muttered, handing you your caf.

“So cheesy,” you giggle, giving his braid a playful tug.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ani said teasingly. “Now tell me, Ms. Padawan from Earth, what would you like to do today?”

You pretended to think for a second or two, before declaring lazily. “Stay in bed as long as possible.”

“Can do,” he said, booping you on the nose. “And later on, we can go check out the New Year’s Fete with Obi-Wan.”

“New Year’s Fete?” You asked, taking a small sip from your mug. “What’s that?”

His eyes twinkled with excitement. “It’s a five-day festival that celebrates the new year. There are all sorts of games, live music, different types of food… Oh, and fireworks at the end of every night!”

“That sounds perfect to me,” you sigh contently. Burying your face into the crook oh his neck, you whisper a soft… “Love you.”

“Love you too.” Pulling you in extra close, Anakin rested his head on top of yours.

And, as both of you fell into comfortable silence, the jedi holocron shinned brightly on a nearby shelf…tucked amongst all of Ani’s most precious possessions.

[minweber]

" 'You know, Aristaeus-Theta, you are not like most tech-priests I've met before. Much more... free-thinking. Why is that? Are you some sort of youthful rebel among your kind?'

'Not quite, lord-captain. Age is a factor here, but it is the other way around - I am actually considerably older than most magi you'd meet today.'

'That's the first time I hear of age making anyone more open-minded.'

'And you still haven't. The march of time has only nurtured in me a conservative streak, as it tends to do. But me and many of my generation - we are the children of the last CBR, brought up in what one might call a more... liberal era of our kind.'

'The last what? I am unfamiliar with this abbreviation.'

'Cawl-Based Renaissance, my lord. How to explain...' "

So, going through the Genefather again, a bit that jumped out at me was one where Alpha Primus notes that Cawl seems to be approaching one of his "solitude phases". This manifests through him starting to divest himself of excess of followers and resources. Which I think is cool for two reasons.

Firstly, from the meta perspective, it seems like a sneaky laying of groundwork on Guy Haley's part, done so that any future Cawl stories can be written without having to constantly explain why he is having death-defying adventures on the ground somewhere with his sad psychic super son and nervous immortal not-husband, while literal legions of techpriests, skitarii and Taranis knights sit in the orbit above twiddling their thumbs.

But secondly, I love the lore implications of the idea that Cawl has these looong phases of either acting like the Archmagos Dominus and Prime Conduit of the Omnissiah, or just a lil' guy who chills in his lab doing his own thing. According to Primus, at the dawn of the 42nd millennium Cawl is in the process of switching from the former to the latter, which he does, among other ways, by slowly disbanding his court of weirdo followers which he has accumulated over the years. And Genefather specifically confirms this idea - one that seemed so natural to me but never was really validated before - that Cawl seems to act as a sort of rallying beacon for all manner of radicals, weirdos and malcontents within the cult Mechanicus. Weirdos that he, after one hot summer (or a few hundred years) of them all brewing together in this big pot of radical ideas, is in the process of releasing back into the wild...

Hey, isn't this a part of how - some would argue - the actual Renaissance started?

And with Cawl having apparently done this enough times for Primus to intuitively know the pattern, I can't help but imagine that, say, about every thousand years the galactic community of Adeptus Mechanicus get these spikes of radical and heretek activity. It causes tensions, purges, sometimes civil wars - but also a general liberalization of AdMech political climate for a time. Because if everyone is busy arguing about this particular attempt at pushing boundaries of the Lore by overly ambitious smartass of the week, a dozen less flashy projects can fly under the radar.

And with Mechanicus' love for recording of things - I also believe this pattern would be recognized! At least enough so that when Cawl emerges from another one of his "solitude phases", ready to present the galaxy with the hottest takes of M36, senior magi across the galaxy make a collective sigh and start preparing to deal with a fresh wave of bright-eyed mad science college graduates in a couple hundred years' time...

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

Investing in T-shirts! The biggest beneficiaries of Gear Adjustments!

For fashion aficionados like myself, Gear Adjustment is the most exciting part of the upcoming Season. Being able to make small changes to the way your gear is worn is something that opens up a ton of customization while requiring less new stuff (though I'm sure it required a lot of work to add). With that said, for the moment, it is looking like they are limiting the feature to caps and t-shirts. I don't personally think caps are changed very much by the ability to flip them, they're all pretty good as they are, after all. But for t-shirts, being able to oversize them is actually really big. Pun unintended.

T-shirts have the tendency to be modeled in a way that makes them cling really tightly to your character's body, and it is has never looked right to me. Looking at the clothing choices I see in my multiplayer games, I get the impression that is the general sentiment, as well. Oversizing shirts solves their central problem, loosening them up and giving you a less constrained silhouette. In this post, I wanna highlight what I think are the biggest winners of this change are. Shirts I think you should pay attention to once the patch hits.

That said, I should highlight that since we don't have the patch yet I am only assuming these will be Adjustable. We cannot know for sure until the we get the update.

I've picked out ten T-shirts I think are the standouts, split into a couple of different categories, starting with the ones I think you all expected to see here:

Annaki Accessories!

I have to imagine that the Annaki Bracelet Tee and Annaki Choker Tee were some of the first shirts that came to mind when you think of noteworthy T-shirts in this game. They've got nice, dusty colors, the big Annaki A in slick silver, and of course their signature accessories. Oversizing these I think will amplify their punk aesthetic even more, because there's nothing punk about tight-fitting clothing.

Unless it's leather.

And leather these are not.

High-fives for Tie-Dyes!

Tie-Dyes are really fun with their bright, trippy patterns, so it's no surprise that the Takoroka Rainbow Tie Dye and the Takoroka Galactic Tie Dye are some of the better T-shirts in the game. We did see the Rainbow Tie Dye get Adjusted in the reveal trailer, and is it just me or does that just seem right for these kinds of shirts? Something about them screams "wear me at one size larger."

Ride the Wave!

Next up, we've got the Firewave Tee, Icewave Tee, and the Vaporwave Tee. There is also a Duskwave Tee, but I am personally not a big fan of the shade of orange they use for the bottom half of that shirt. That said, I think the gradient on these shirts them really make them stand out from the rest, and their color palettes are just very nice and evocative.

Assorted Graphic Tees!

These three don't have a common throughline aside from all being graphic tees, but I think they all have something to recommend them by. The Eelzebub Tee has a really gnarly, radiation-green design that is just really cool, giving an outfit something really eye-catching while still staying nice and simple.

The Green Tee is interesting because its big bold graphic lettering actually extend across the side and even a bit onto the back of your character, which gives it a really unique look I don't think any other clothes can replicate.

Finally, I just think the Mint Tee looks nice. Its color is pretty unique amongst shirts, and the white print design is decorative without being overbearing.

And these were my picks for the T-shirts to keep in mind come Drizzle Season 2023. Were there any others you feel I missed? If so, please tell me in the notes!

[catohphm]

Hi everyone! I spent the rest of yesterday typing up a complete backstory for my Hogwarts Legacy OC, Danny, for a Star Wars AU in which he is a Jedi! It took me several hours to pull all this together so I hope you enjoy it!

tagging some moots to start: @adalinda-selwyn, @rypnami, @n0va25, @boxdstars, @superconductivebean, @idiot-adventures, @hazyange1s

Circa 45 BBY, Master Islwyn was born on Dressel, a remote, rural, wooded planet in the Mid-Rim largely detached from galactic politics. For the first three years of his life, the boy was nurtured on his parents’ ranch, who were former successful merchants that had sold off their interests and settled down for a quieter life after their enterprise started to wane due to the rising influence of large commerce houses such as the Inter-Galactic Banking Clan. However, his parents wanted their son to have a chance at life in the galaxy. They were not strong in the Force, but believed in it. They prayed that one day their boy would be granted that opportunity by will of the Force.

It seemed that those prayers were answered when a handful of brown-robed strangers showed up at the front doorstep of the Islwyns. Believing that this was the opportunity they hoped their son would have, the family welcomed the strangers. Little Danny could speak by this point, but being so young, there was no way he could process that this was the last family dinner he would have until he was an adult. Over supper, the visitors revealed their identities as Jedi and explained to the family their intentions to take their son in, raising and training him as a part of their Order. As much as they believed in the Force, little Danny’s parents had a hard time believing that the Jedi was more than myth, the mysterious guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy. They were still somewhat surprised when members of the Order approached their abode. 

The Islwyns agreed, albeit very reluctantly and emotionally, to let the Jedi leave with their son and train them as one of their own. The three-year old Danny was the loudest and it took some time for both the parents and the Jedi to calm him down. His parents gave him hugs and admitted they would still miss him dearly in spite of the fact that they had what they wanted for him. Life on the ranch would not be the same for the couple, but they had to manage for everyone’s sake. Indeed, young Danny remained in tears as he left the ranch on the shoulder of one of the Jedi, waving goodbye.

Emigrated to the grand Jedi Temple of Coruscant, the sight of a planet-wide big city was a lot to take in for the youngling when the starship docked. He was shocked and amazed of course, as it was a vast difference to the forests and prairies of quiet Dressel. Immediately from the beginning it was clear to the masters that Danny struggled with attachment and letting go. He was a happy if somewhat quiet and shy kid. It bothered the little youngling greatly that he would have to adjust to his new surroundings, even face the reality he may not get to see his mama and papa for a very long time, if not ever again. 

Under the Jedi Code, attachments were forbidden within the Order. Forcing it on little Danny however, would be wrong. One of the masters, a Togruta named Shaak Ti, took a particular interest in him. She felt and understood his deep struggles with attachments. Thus she was not hesitant to express her concerns about how he may be treated when it came to addressing his feelings and memories. Rather than trying to forcefully drill it in, which would be wrong, Master Ti advocated for working with Danny to understand his troubles and develop the important skills he would need for his journey in the Force. 

Master Ti would become a motherly figure to young Danny in the Jedi. She was allowed to play a main role in his early education and training as a youngling. He felt at ease when she was around, able to sense her strong devotion to the nature of the Force and the Jedi teachings. She encouraged him to explain what upset and scared him. Ti recognized that his attachment to his mother and father was natural and part of what made him happy. It also showed that he had  a strong heart and was concerned for other people and their wellbeing. Over time, Danny would learn to acknowledge and accept his feelings and attachments as positive and healthy so that he could remain focused on his studies and betterment as a Jedi. Shaak Ti understood why the Code banned attachments. They had the potential to interfere in the training and duties of a Jedi, turning them to the Dark Side if they were left unaddressed and allowed to overrun the individual. At the same time, she believed that with the proper handling, training and meditation, one would be able to manage their attachments in a constructive way.

As a student, Danny also looked up to Shaak Ti as a role model. He took up after her in the spiritual, scholarly and martial components of the Jedi, preferring negotiation first while being prepared for battle at any moment. He even took an interest in whips and dreamed of having a lightsaber that worked like one of them when he got older, developing a specialization for the whip throughout his training. Danny was well-liked by his peers and got along with most of his clan, though some considered him as weird and teased him for his unusual interest in whips. Otherwise he was empathetic and hardworking, sometimes assisting classmates in need.

When they came of age, young Danny and the rest of his initiate clan participated in a rite of passage known as the Gathering to build their lightsabers, as was customary. They were flown to the faraway snowy planet of Ilum in an ancient starship called the Crucible under the guidance of Professor Huyang, an academic droid also dating back from antiquity. On the planet, Danny and the younglings had to journey into caverns to find kyber crystals that they connected to in the Force while overcoming challenges testing their resilience and willpower. He managed to work through all the obstacles and negative temptations within him due to the teachings of Shaak Ti. The crystal he found was green due to his affinity with the Force’s nature. Danny used the powers of the force to build his lightsaber under the careful direction of the droid professor.

He passed his Initiate Trials with flying colors. As a Jedi Master, Shaak Ti was allowed to select her own apprentice to train, who would be none other than young Danny. It was now 32 BBY, which would see the world of Naboo be invaded and occupied by the Trade Federation in response to hefty tariffs by the Galactic Republic. He also witnessed the arrival of a young slave from the Outer Rim desert world of Tatooine, Anakin Skywalker, the news of which also brought along rumors of a Sith resurgence. While the possibility of the evil Force order returning concerned Danny somewhat, he brushed them aside as he was intrigued by the story of Anakin. Skywalker was permitted into the Jedi for training as Obi-Wan’s student after helping defeat the Trade Federation force that held Naboo at gunpoint. While welcoming toward Anakin, Danny couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was troubling him. He sensed that Skywalker also had problems with attachments, which he could understand, but the former slave’s predicament was worse than what he had to deal with. 

Danny continued his studies under Master Ti, them going on many missions together to further their journeys in the Force. Their bond grew to new heights as her student became an older teenager. Master and padawan saw each other as equals and had a shared mutual respect. Even on the hardest missions did young Danny enjoy traveling with and learning from Shaak Ti. In 25 BBY, he completed the Jedi Trials and was knighted in a formal ceremony. While proud of this accomplishment, he was not to rest on his laurels for long as he was assigned his new padawan shortly after, a teenage girl named Sophronia. Danny was reluctant at first, if a bit apprehensive even, but all doubts came crashing down when he got to meet her. The girl was intelligent and bright, as well as eager and friendly. She conveyed an air of maturity while remaining youthful and was devoted to the Jedi teachings.

Over the next 6 years, Master Islwyn dedicated himself to training Sophronia the best he could using what he learned from Master Ti and his own experiences. He constructed his lightwhip with an orange crystal after years of honing the skill. His apprentice was somewhat jealous of this, but she was also proud of him for his accomplishment. She respected and admired him a lot. They shared their passion for learning and knowledge, which further their bond and respective paths. Even then Danny would sometimes be irritated by Sophronia’s deep passion and talkative nature on the details of historical events and legends. While their bond was still a bit rocky at the start, they gradually warmed up to each other. He continued to maintain his close bond with Shaak Ti, who offered his padawan advice and motivation from time to time.

Tensions in the Republic only continued to worsen following the Naboo crisis. Many star systems were breaking off to join a new rising power in response to growing corruption, bureaucracy and alleged mistreatment. Named the Confederacy of Independent Systems, it rapidly gained support and membership under the direction of a former Jedi-turned-Sith, Count Dooku, who was christened Darth Tyranus by his master, Darth Sidious. The massive commerce houses that prompted Danny’s parents to leave business had also joined the CIS, providing military and financial support in return for places in the Separatists' governing council.

It was hard to believe for Danny that such an accomplished and respected Jedi such as Dooku could leave the Order and possibly even defect to the Republic’s rivals or enemies. He picked up his parents’ sentiment for politics, it being sort of alien to him as a committed Jedi. It was believed that Dooku had left as he felt that the organization was becoming too political, short-sighted and narrow in its ways serving the Republic. Danny also struggled to comprehend this as he always remembered the Jedi as essential to his family. They had cared for him, trained him and afforded him a life where he could be happy and perhaps make a difference in the galaxy. As much as he felt strongly about Dooku leaving the Order, nothing could change his stance on the Jedi until the outbreak of the Clone Wars. 

Dooku’s warnings would be validated as the powder keg of tensions in the galaxy exploded, pitting the Republic in open hostilities with the Separatists. The shortcomings of the Jedi were exposed to the public throughout the war, the role of them as soldiers not helping sentiment against them. That’s what Danny saw himself as he continued to serve the Jedi and the Republic in the war. He did not see it as his duty to be caught up in the back-and-forth playing of politics in the Senate Chamber. His convictions lied in the safety and wellbeing of his padawan, Master Ti and his force of clone troopers.

Although Danny always had questions about the Jedi doctrine that stemmed from his very first encounter with them as a little boy on Dressel. They were aided by the Clone Wars’  increase in scrutiny and condemnation of the Jedi as warriors pushing for the Republic’s interests at the costs of other people. Danny did not believe that it was that extreme, but he could not refute that the Jedi doctrine was flawed, if even outdated and in need of amendment. He further suspected that there were plans going on behind closed doors to usurp the Jedi and destroy the democracy laid out by the Republic. However he could not act on it nor communicate it much to others due to a lack of proof.

Nevertheless Danny and Sophronia fought in many battles together, the experience in the combat zone a test of their bond and prowess in its own right. Coming into 19 BBY, Sophronia became a knight herself. Much to the immense applause and gratitude of both Danny and Shaak Ti, she had proven herself a fierce, independent and accomplished Jedi worthy of the honor. Following the battle above Coruscant and the rescue of Chancellor Palpatine, Danny was informed that he had been selected for the ascension rank of Master for his honorable service and dedication to teaching young Sophronia the ways of the Force. He was to receive the promotion once the Clone Wars were over, this would unfortunately be cut short by Order 66.

Having thwarted an attempt by Master of the Order Mace Windu to apprehend him and bring him to justice, Palpatine, the Sith Lord Darth Sidious, framed the Jedi as killers who attempted to take over the Republic and made Anakin his apprentice, Sith Lord Darth Vader. While he sent out Vader to raze the Jedi Temple with 501st Legion backup, Palpatine issued the contingency command Order 66 to turn the clone troopers against their Jedi commanders and comrades out in battle. Danny himself was able to dodge the crossfire using his lightwhip skills and slip away. Sophronia also managed to escape although Shaak Ti was caught in the temple and killed by Anakin along with many of the other Jedi on Coruscant. 

Danny attempted to reach a few of the Jedi as he escaped the battlefield in his fighter. Most of the channels gave no response but he managed to reach Sophronia, who he advised to lay low and sent coordinates for a place where they could rendezvous later on. He also got ahold of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who had just fled Utapau after killing the Separatist warlord General Grievous. They agreed to meet at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant to investigate a distress signal coming from it. Danny had a bad feeling about it as his suspicions of a secret plot to topple the Jedi and Republic were confirmed.

Meeting Obi-Wan inside the ruined temple, he was horrified at the insurmountable decimation that had been wrought, even that Anakin, the “Chosen One” could even fall to the Dark Side. Unfortunately, that was the case as they and Yoda reviewed security footage of their former ally slaughtering their innocent comrade. It was too much for Danny to bear but he had to stick to his Jedi teachings and remain strong for his surviving brethren. Obi-Wan had to even stop him from entering Shaak Ti’s room and seeing her gruesome remains. He was devastated that she had been killed and they’d never get to see each other again, although some consolation came in the form of a holomessage Master Kenobi had recovered from Ti’s room. It had been recorded by her soon before Anakin had arrived with hundreds of 501st Legion troops, sensing that he had turned to the Sith and she’d most likely be dead. The recording was a goodbye from Shaak Ti to her former student. In it, she urged him to continue his studies in the Force, seek out Yoda to get his master promotion, and stay alive so that he can help defeat whatever evil arises from the shift in Force and restore freedom, peace and justice to the galaxy. Anything else, the deaths of Ti and other fallen Jedi would be in vain. The message also encouraged Danny to seek out whatever family he had, if there were any at all.

After receiving and listening to the holomessage, Danny and Obi-Wan reluctantly said farewell and may the force be with you to each other before parting ways. Yoda had already departed to battle Sidious before the other two surviving Jedi investigated Ti's room. Obi-Wan was going to Mustafar to confront his former friend and student Vader. Thrust into a new reality where the Republic and Jedi, the family he knew is now dead at the hands of an evil Sith lord and a traitorous Skywalker who was once an ally, Danny sets himself off on a new journey. Acting on a tip from a contact who recognized his surname, he begins the long flight to Dressel to find the original family he came from. 

Palpatine meanwhile declares the First Galactic Empire. In a move to consolidate power under the guise of security and stability, the Sith Lord ends the era of the Republic, crowning himself Emperor and putting the Separatists to the saber. Democracy is dead with thunderous applause. Danny could not have picked a better time to flee the heart of the new Empire, as any surviving Jedi were marked for death with bounties soon following. No matter what, the Force remains strong in him, who must remain committed on his journey in his role as a guardian of peace and justice in the galaxy.

[universellie]

Platonic Rose Quartz x G/N Reader

[[Request by the lovely @insertuserhere88 !!

— There was no specific requests so I’ll employ some creative liberty in what I’m about to write :) It’s set before Greg’s gig on the beach, the night he met Rose.

((A/N: Y/N only used a few times xoxo Sorry for any typos, it’s late when I wrote this and I’m too tired to edit. I’ll do it tomorrow, maybe. :,)

>>𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘍𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 ♥︎

It was 1990, Mr. Universe had a gig on the beach tonight and you were most certainly going to attend. You were ecstatic to get to see him live, you’d been a fan for a while now to say the least. You knew Rose would love his music too, but you had to find her first to see if she’d attend the concert.

You walked along the beach, kicking pebbles out of your way. You could see the cave and warp pad from where you were, already dreading the dastardly climb up to the cliff face. You always loved the carving of Obsidian in the cliff, a symbol of the Crystal Gems unity and their friendship. A quite literal representation, not only as a sculpture but when they fused. You had had the privilege of seeing and meeting her once, a gigantic gem with flaming eyes. Unnerving and most likely terrifying to anyone, yet you knew she was a culmination of your dearest friends. And your best friend, Rose Quartz.

You stepped up in front of the warp pad, looking at the door that led to each of the gems respective rooms. “Rose!” You called out, looking at the ground and idly kicking a rock. It flew to the wall directly beside the door as it opened, bouncing and flying directly across Rose’s face. “Woah!” she exclaimed, taking a step back. You grimaced, raising your hands in surrender. “Sorry Rose-“ She waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about it Y/N, these things happen.” Her dress whispered along the ground as her bare feet padded towards you. “What brings you here?” She peered down at you, her giant mass of pink curls surrounding her. “I wanted to see if you’d like to join me at the concert tonight. It’s the musician I like, Mr. Universe?” You put your hands in your pockets, your head almost completely laid back to look up at her. “Of course! Id love to! In the meantime, want to do something else? The gems and I have nothing to do for the rest of the day so Garnet has gone to explore the deeper parts of the temple, Amethyst is in her room and Pearl is in the training grounds. I’m on my own I’m afraid.”

“Rose you don’t have to ask to hang out with me. C’mon, let’s go to the beach. Maybe we can watch them set up for the concert tonight.” She clapped her hands in joy, hurrying to the open cliff exit. She held out a hand to you, you took it, holding tightly as she catapulted the pair of you into the sky and floated gently to the centre of the beach. You landed gracefully, thanks to her expert floating knowledge. She sat on the sand, her feet and ends of her dress in reach of tiny waves. They lapped lazily while you settled in beside her, the pair of you gazing out at the horizon.

“Rose, if you don’t mind me asking. Why did you start the rebellion?” She had never fully explained how it had begun, only that one day they were fighting for their very freedom. She sighed, looking up at you quickly and back towards the sea. “They wouldn’t listen to me.”

“The Diamonds?”

“Mhm.” Her eyes were hidden behind the shadows of her curly bangs, you could see her lips pressed in a thing line as she rested on one elbow, idly drawing gem shapes in the sand. “I tried to explain the beauty of Earth. How their mission for galactic domination was destroying worlds and life.” You noticed her swipe at the sand after she drew what seemed to be a diamond shape. “They ignored me, threw me out and told me to get back to carving the kindergartens.” She sighed, avoiding eye contact. “I chose to ignore them. I reformed into this dress, I chose to make a stand. I refuse to allow the Diamond Authority to destroy this beautiful planet.” You looked at her, admiration and pity in your gaze. How one gem could defeat an entire world, you had no idea. But if there was anyone who could do it, it would be Rose.

“What do you think Pink is doing right now?” You picked up a seashell, pulling your feet back into you. You twirled the shell around in your hands, investigating its colours and ridges. Rose let loose a dark chuckle. “Probably sitting on her Pink throne on her royal behind doing nothing except destruction. Except following orders.” She seemed so lost in thought, continuing to watch the waves. “She’s useless you know. Heartless, even. She couldn’t make a stand to her sisters, she didn’t even try to change the direction of this mass destruction.” Rose sat up, curling her legs towards her and wrapping her arms around her knees. “She’s weak, Y/N. Pink Diamond is so disgustingly weak.” You sighed, reaching a hand up and patting Rose on her arm through her curls.

“Can she help it? She’s been raised in a castle surrounded by Diamonds who know nothing but conquest. She’s the youngest and the smallest. Of course she’s weaker! She’s the bullied little sister, from what I can see.” Rose sniffled, rubbing a hand over her face and hiding behind her curls. Was she crying?

“I just wish they could see the world like me.” Rose whispered, the words seemed so heavy, like they meant something entirely different. You stood, patting her on the head, her curls bouncing like cotton candy. “They will, someday.” You reassured her, stretching your arms above your head as you did. You looked behind you to see the stage being set up, the sun was setting, almost completely below the horizon.

“Come on Rose, for tonight, let’s just enjoy some good music.” She looked up at you, smiling. “You are what I love most about humans Y/N. Always so kind and understanding.” She stood, grabbing you by the shoulders and crushing you in a hug. “Thank you.” She whispered gently. You rubbed her back, returning a ‘you’re welcome’ before breaking away.

“On the bright side Rose, maybe Mr. Universe will like you just as much as I do.”