#at first I was disappointed with what they did with the young clones

[shinhatispadawanbraid]

The batch rescuing the clone younglings and then not involving them with all the stuff with the empire and just letting them be kids on pabu is so bitter sweet. The batch never got the opportunity to actually be kids and even as hard as the batch tried omega didn’t get to either because of the empire. It was more than the batch got and she is loved but she is still in danger all the time. The batch knows the reality of being a soldier and they didn’t get a choice in the matter. They know that those they involve in the rebellion risk being hunted by the empire and they know the reality of being hunted by the empire. By not involving them with any of the soldier stuff they can give the clone younglings a chance at the childhood and the choice to do what they want with their lives that they didn’t get.

[totally-here]

3 times Phantom's Guardian was Mentioned + 1 Time He Showed Up

One

Phantom’s introduction to Young Justice wasn’t as dramatic as Empress’ or Slobo’s, or even Arrowette’s first introduction to the cave. No, it wasn’t during the Olympics, or on a battlefield, and he didn’t come in injured and looking for help. 

Impulse just brought Phantom in one day and insisted that he should join because he’s their age, interested in justice, and now that Greta’s human again they need another ghost member. So Phantom stayed, popping in and out for missions but never really sticking around all that long. 

Today is one of the days that Phantom’s with them on a mission, that being looking around a lab of the Brain’s that had an energy surge recently, despite it being presumably abandoned. 

Kon got paired up with Phantom to check the rest out first, since they both have better hearing than Anita and Tim, who were both still in the main room working on checking the computers for previous activity. 

The room is dark except for the light green ball glowing slightly above Phantom’s hand. He waves it around enough for it to reflect off of glass, then throws it up to the ceiling. The light expands enough to illuminate the room. 

Phantom mumbles about not knowing he could do that. Kon ignores him and moves closer to inspect the glass tubes to the side of several monitors set up. 

“Looks like cloning equipment,” Phantom says, casually. He drags a finger through the dust gathering on one of the monitors. “Don’t think they’ve been activated recently, though, so that’s good.”

“What? You got a problem with clones or something?” It’s a quick and defensive answer, and Phantom puts his hands up in surrender. 

“Not in concept.” He shrugs and joins Kon near the tubes. “But not a lot of people ask before making clones.”

“So I don’t need to sic Superman on you?” Obviously Kon could chew Phantom out himself, but few can do a “not mad, just disappointed” face better than Clark. 

Phantom scrunches his face. “Why would you need to?” 

Kon stops pretending to inspect the tube and stares at Phantom. “You do know I’m a clone, right?” The blank look on Phantom’s face tells him that no, he did not. “Well I am. Clone of Superman, though we’re pretty much brothers now.”

“Cool,” Phantom says, not a bit less friendly. He hesitates for a second before continuing, “Could I maybe ask you how you got there? Me and my clone have landed on cousins, but that was also, like, given to us by her evil dad. So.”

Phantom trails off. Huh, that makes three members of the team that have been cloned. Not a lot, but it’s weird that it’s happened three times. 

“You’re making sure she feels accepted, right?” 

“Yeah! Well, whenever she’s around. She,” Phantom waves his hand around, looking for the right word, “She’s a wanderer. Exploring the world and stuff. But Richard has a room for her at home, and I remind her of that whenever she does stop by.” 

“Well, first of all, don’t push it so hard,” Kon says. Phantom nods enthusiastically. “And second, who’s Richard?”

Kon doesn’t know a lot of Richards, and he doesn’t think that Phantom ever mentioned one before. Or even if he remembers his living life. 

“Oh, he’s my, uh, guardian? I guess that’s the best term. The guy I’m living with who forces me to go to school sometimes.” Phantom looks away and back to the tubes. 

Before Kon can ask for more details, Robin and Empress come in with a report of dead computers and wanting to know where they’re at with the cloning room.

They’re unimpressed with their lack of progress.

Two

Wally doesn’t really need to come by the Hamilton Lodge that often, not when that’s Young Justice’s territory and he doesn’t want to get involved in all of That.

But Red Tornado said that the team has a file on a planet that’s very quickly becoming a league problem, and he figured it might be a good time to try to check in with Bart, anyway. Make sure he hasn’t run any cars off cliffs again and all that. 

So he stops by Manchester to ask Bart about the file, then they both head East to actually find it. 

When they arrive at the hotel minutes later, Wally’s surprised to actually find it… clean? There’s no visible trash or overturned furniture or anything else he’d expect from an abandoned hotel filled with teenagers. Well, maybe not filled, lately. He doesn’t think anyone’s living here currently, with Greta at Elias’ for the school year and Slobo gone. 

Still, the room smells slightly of artificial pine scent, and Bart perks up before disappearing and reappearing rapidly, holding a teammate up by his armpits. Said teammate just accepts this, his legs folding into a wispy tail, and head rolling against his shoulders. 

“This is Phantom!” Bart holds him up higher. Phantom waves. Wally’s only heard of him through Max’s updates, the same way he would hear about Preston or Carol, but with more wariness about the supposed ghost. 

Actually looking at the pale face and glowing green eyes contrasting against the darker than dark jumpsuit, Wally’s a little more ready to accept his claim at being undead. 

“He stress cleans,” Bart explains, moving to carry Phantom under his arm. Wally bites down the urge to tell him to put him down, but only because Phantom doesn’t resist the hold, only moving to get into a more comfortable position. His hands are touching the floor. “So what happened?” 

Bart directs the question downwards, and Phantom heaves a very dramatic sigh. Definitely a teenager. It does raise the question of who exactly this kid’s mentor is. Hopefully he does have one. Maybe he’s the Spectre’s kid?

Phantom phases through the arm holding him only to lay on top of Bart’s hair. “I accidentally called Richard dad. And then fled.” 

Bart nods sagely. “Classic. One time I accidentally called Max dad, so I had to start a fire to distract him.”

Phantom sighs again, almost dreamily. “Genius.” 

Wally doesn’t have time to unpack all of that. Well he does, but he’s not going to, because there’s really only one Richard that comes to mind that might have the heart to take in a dead kid, even if he doesn’t go by his full name.

But surely Dick would have told him, or any other Titan, if he had adopted a kid. Right?

But there’s still a little shadow of doubt. Maybe Dick wanted it to be a secret, or it was really new or had a rocky start. Phantom doesn’t seem to hold himself like a Bat, but it’s not a guarantee Dick would have trained him. 

“The lodge looks nice,” Wally offers out loud, which Phantom shrugs at and wraps his tail around Bart’s head to keep secure. “Anyway, Impulse. The file on Myrg?” 

“Oh yeah!” Again, Bart disappears then reappears a few seconds later with a paper file. They really need to start digitizing more of these things. “That’s the planet where we played baseball so that they wouldn’t destroy Earth!” 

“You what.” 

The prospect of Dick following in his dad’s footsteps is forgotten in the face of what the hell Young Justice got up to on Myrg. 

Three

Tim may be in a…Predicament. 

It’s not his fault. Really. He knew what he was doing. He couldn’t let a civilian fall for the trap. But they were already so close, so he just, kinda, pushed himself into the rope instead. 

So there Robin is, tied upside down in a warehouse, with the Joker below next to an overly complicated control panel. The clown’s rambling about bombs hidden all over the city that Tim knows Batman is already tracking down with Batgirl. 

Tim’s not really paying attention to the rant because of that, more focused on wiggling enough to get the spare mini-birdarang out of his glove to cut the rope without notifying the Joker. 

“Yikes, bad time?” Asks Phantom’s voice beside him. Based on the source and accounting for the slight echo, he’s floating with his head near Tim’s, likely upside down. “Want some help?” 

Tim gets the birdarang out and starts sawing at the thick rope. They should be fine anyway, but stalling the Joker for extra time would be helpful. “Can you possess the Joker? Just hold him still.”

“The correct term is overshadow, but sure.” The voice disappears, and a few seconds later the Joker freezes. 

His body jerks forward, then backward, and a laugh chokes out of his throat. His hand claws over his mouth at the noise and he hunches over. All movement halts before he rights himself, shaking out his hands and rolling his shoulders. Phantom looks up at Tim and his eyes are glowing. 

Tim cuts through the rope, kicking and using the momentum to right himself and land on his feet. He brushes past Phantom in Joker’s body to handle the control panel. He turns off the radio broadcast and dismantles the bomb strapped to the panel.

Threat handled, he turns to Phantom and holds up some handcuffs. “Let me arrest you?”

Phantom obliges, turning the Joker’s body around and putting his hands behind his back. Tim lets him walk by himself out of the warehouse and moves the handcuffs around a lamppost. The Joker’s body jerks again, then slumps forward, just as Phantom reappears next to him, scowling down at the unconscious body. 

“That felt really slimy. Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Phantom grouches. 

“Why’re you in Gotham?” Tim asks. It’s not like Phantom makes a habit of visiting. The last time he came into the city, he complained about feeling the dead under the streets. Fortunately, that let Tim uncover a few tunnels that Talons travel through. Phantom, however, was unnerved by the Talons and left quickly. 

“Oh, Solomon Grundy’s back in our sewers. Richard said I should probably tell one of you Gotham heroes, since you keep track of those guys.” He shakes out his hands like they were cramped in the Joker. 

They hadn’t seen Grundy in a while. Tim assumed he was currently in a less violent personality. “What’s he doing?” 

Phantom shrugs. “Just chilling. Mostly underground. I tried to talk to him but he only grunted back at me. He also tried to pick me up, dunno what that was about.”

“Maybe because you’re both dead?” Tim guessed. That would be a surface level connection. Ivy and Woodrue have had more luck working with Grundy than anyone, and Phantom definitely doesn’t have the connection to the Green that’d help with that. 

Police lights turn around the corner, and Tim shoots a grapple to get to the roof above them. Phantom follows, but disappears as soon as they’re on the roof. Going back home, probably. 

Cass drops down from the roof she was listening on. “Richard?”

“Not the same one.”

They both stick around long enough to watch the Joker get put into the cop car. 

Plus one

A spaceship landed in the forests of New York, and Cassie’s team was the first to respond to it. Technically not respond, but check it out, since there wasn’t any alert or anything. 

Still, Wonder Girl has Empress, Robin, and Superboy on the other side of the ship, watching what looks like the back door, while she, Impulse, and Phantom watch the other door and main window. She has binoculars, but the windows are so tinted she can’t quite make anything out. 

No aliens have come out yet, and she hesitates to have anyone go in, in case whoever inside does turn hostile. 

Impulse has offered to run through a total of five times already, and it’s a testament to his restraint that he hasn’t, and a testament to Cassie’s that she hasn’t yelled at him yet. Phantom at least isn’t being annoying, but he’s not necessarily helpful, either. He’s not even watching the spaceship anymore. Now he’s trying to make a flower crown out of dandelions. 

“Door’s opening on our side,” Robin says from the comms. “But no one’s coming out.” 

“Alright, good enough to try to get in,” Cassie decides. She turns to Phantom, who’s closing off the circle of flowers. Beside him, Impulse has since pulled out a gameboy. “Phantom, go in invisibly through the open door and report back. Try to see what their plans are.” 

“Oh, sure. One second.” Phantom finishes the crown and tries to put it on Bart’s head. It doesn’t quite fit over his mane of hair, but Phantom shrugs and leaves it sitting there anyway before going invisible. 

“Maybe I should shave my head again,” Bart says as his game character dies. 

He gets a resounding no in response. 

Half an hour later they have a very annoyed Green Lantern lecturing them about league jurisdiction and knowing when to call someone else. 

Apparently, the alien ship was just stopping to complete some maintenance, and did not appreciate any spying on them, and especially did not appreciate who did it. Green Lantern was more than happy to explain that Wonder Girl’s team is not really a part of the Justice League and he can help with their maintenance. They denied his help and left to find a place with less people in it. 

“-and you!” Green Lantern rounds on Phantom next, but Cassie knows none of them are really listening. Sure, they messed up by freaking out the visiting aliens, and yeah maybe they should have contacted the league about it, but they’ve dealt with stuff worse than this! It’s not Cassie’s fault she thought that this would have stuck to the formula. 

“Who even are you?” Green Lantern runs a hand through his black hair, stupid green gauntlets shining in the sunlight. “Do I need to call your mentor?” He frowns. “Or do they know you mess up alien technology by just being around it?” 

Phantom scoffs and rolls his eyes. “How was I supposed to know their tech would go all fuzzy when I came in?” 

“You wouldn’t have to know if you just stayed out of the spaceship!” 

“Hey!” Cassie cuts in. “Technically that was my call. It’s not all on Phantom.”

“I still could've been more careful,” Phantom says to her, ignoring Green Lantern as they argue about blame. 

“Cut it out for a second, okay?” Green Lantern puts a hand between them and they stop to glare at him. He pulls the hand back. “Look, can I just talk to one of your adults about this?” 

Robin glares. “We don’t need an adult. We have this under control.”

“Only because I’m here now.” 

“I’ll call my mentor,” Phantom says. Kon opens his mouth, most likely to offer to call Superman instead in hopes of a lighter sentence, but Bart covers his mouth, smiling like he knows something Cassie doesn’t. Tim and Anita share a look, and don’t intervene as Phantom pulls out a phone from his chest. 

It rings once before it’s picked up. Cassie can’t hear the other side of the conversation, but Kon’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion. “Hey, do you think you can pick me up? Green Lantern wants to talk to you.” Phantom looks Green Lantern up and down then says, “No, this one doesn’t have a cape.”

Phantom says goodbye after rattling off their coordinates, hangs up, and stares at Green Lantern in silence for a few seconds. 

And then a swirling mass of black seeps into the space next to Phantom. The end of a cane steps out of it, followed by a leg, then the rest of the immaculately dressed man holding the handle of the cane that’s shaped like a bird’s head. 

“Phantom,” The man says. His voice drips with condescension in only a way a british accent can, yet Phantom smiles up at him. The shadowy portal behind him disappears. “What, exactly, happened?”

“That’s the fucking Shade,” Anita hisses to Robin, who shrugs noncommittedly at her. Green Lantern seems to recognise him too, taking a step back and clenching his hand that holds his ring. 

“Well, the team and I were staking out this spaceship–super cool, by the way–and I went inside to check it out, but my presence messed with their tech–which was an accident–and they freaked out, so I freaked out, and then we kinda got into a little fight until Green Lantern came to mediate.”

“Hm. Is that right?” The Shade asks Green Lantern, who nods slowly, still anticipating an attack. “It seems like the problem’s fixed, then.”

“Well, yes, but–”

“And it does seem about time for these kids to get home, doesn't it?” The Shade pulls out an actual pocket watch, chain and all, from his suit pocket and takes his time in checking it. “I’ll see them home.” 

Shadows grow from behind the team, swirling until they become a giant, gaping maw that swallows them up and spits them out in a different forest, or maybe just a different part of the same forest. 

Either way, Cassie has to take a moment to make sure she doesn’t throw up from the sudden vertigo the shadow portal caused. 

The Shade looks at Phantom, and raises an eyebrow. “You can’t expect me to always bail you out.” 

Phantom shrugs, looking guilty. “I know. Thanks, Richard.”

Oh, so that’s who Richard is. Annoyingly, neither Tim or Bart look surprised by this revelation.

[the-tech-turn]

My goodbyes to the members of Bad Batch

(I was inspired by someone else who also did this, but I can't find them. If anyone know who the op is, please tell me so I can credit them)

(Not spell checked, btw)

TECH

Tech -my beloved-.you have helped me gain confidence when it comes to my intelligence. Last year I was very insecure about my intelligence since I was the “advanced student”. Because of that title I was afraid to ask questions, afraid of not meeting that title. My self esteem relied on my grades and even though I would have an A I was disappointed it wasn't 100 percent. But because of you I learned that I don't have to prove myself to anyone and although I may struggle with it from time to time it's a lot better than last year. You also have been a big source of comfort for me. I would love to listen to you ramble endlessly. Your voice is a voice that I have learned to love and adore. In fact I cried when I realized I would hear your voice this season. I also see you as a person who would listen to me ramble and have a genuine conversation with. Something that I rarely have. You are a strong, intelligent, determined, and loving person. That is why you have a special place in my heart. Thank you Tech for all the things you have helped me with.

ECHO

I was pretty young when I watched The Clone wars. At that time I wasn't invested with starwars the way I am now. So I never really paid attention to what I was watching. I remember part of it like watching the attack on Kamino. In all honesty I don't remember watching you at all. But subconsciously I may remember since you are one of my favorite clones. Heck even characters. I really like how competent and funny you. To me it shows that even after all that you have been through you can still be an amazing person. I think that's an important message to send. I also like how you want to keep fighting for your brothers. It shows how much you care for them, even the ones you haven't met. I love how you are willing to take dangerous risks for people to love. It shows so much about you. And finally I love how you were able to find healthy coping mechanisms and make the most of your situation. You aren't the same person as before the trauma but you aren't left worse off. Echo you are the perfect example of “you aren't what happens to you it's what you do with what happens' ' and I want to be like you.

WRECKER

Wrecker, you and I are a lot alike. We are both affectionate, loud when we're excited, and caring. I adore how you openly show Lula! You aren't ashamed of her and I think that's incredible. To be proud of who you are and being able to feel unashamed by others trying to put you down is an amazing life skill to have. I think it is amazing how you were always willing to take Crosshair back. I can tell how much you love him. It broke my heart to hear you scream after Tech as he fell. You love all of your brothers and to see one of them die and being unable to help them is something I never want to face. But you are somehow able to still keep your positivity. You seem like the person your brothers go to for reassurance due to your loving and affectionate nature. I hope that whatever happens tomorrow in the finale won't take that away from you.

HUNTER

You are an amazing father/brother to Omega and your brothers. You want what is best for them and try to help them. You are a caring person. It is just how you are. This allows you to empathize with people more easily. It is also your caring nature that drew me to you. You are how I joined Fandom in the first place, and because of that, I made friends with people who want to have a genuine conversation with me(@techwrecker @thefrogdalorian )

You've also allowed me to find people who share my interests. For that I thank you. I admire your determination. You know what you want and no one is going to stop you from getting it. I understand how pressuring it can be when people look up to you and seek you for advice but you manage to pull it off and that is why you are the leader of the batch.

CROSSHAIR

Your journey has been a hard one. You had to see your brothers leave you multiple times. You had to watch Mayday, a reg who you quickly grew to care for and love, die because of the ignorance of the Empire. The same Empire you sacrificed your whole life for. You gave up your relationship with your family, your happiness and individuality. All for the Empire to take 2 of your brothers, and take away what made you different , acceptable to take away the reason you were born and to replace it with trauma.

What you had to live through was cruel and all I can do is hope that you'll be alive to make the pain worth it.

But just because you went through all of this doesn't mean you don't have amazing qualities that I love and admire. Like me you value loyalty. It is why you left the Empire and why you are trying to recuse Omega. You are also very protective of what you care about and it is easy to see how much you care for your brothers and for Omega. I think I like you as much as I do because you remind me of my best friend. She is as stubborn,and snarky, as you but she is also as caring, loyal, thoughtful, and strong as you. It is clear for me to see why Omega never gave up on you. And I want you to know that you deserve the galaxy.

OMEGA

I have loved watching you learn and grow through all of these years. You've grown so far from the girl who didn't know what dirt was. You have faced challenges that would change many people. And in all honesty you have changed; you've changed for the better. You are still the loyal,caring and empathetic person you were before. You are a bit of everyone in the batch

You're as loyal as Crosshair, as caring as Hunter, as strong as Echo, as positive as Wrecker, and as strategic as Tech. You have so much potential in this galaxy, and I just know wherever the force guides you, you'll never lose your spark.

(I will post my final goodbye to the series tomorrow)

[daydreamgoddess14]

Gala pt. 2

MASTERLIST

‘Reader insert’ – They haven’t heard Ted swear before or raise his voice, when they get dressed up for a gala the first word out of Ted’s mouth is “Fuck.” - for @dadbodfanatic-x . AFAB!Reader.

Chapter 1

Did this chapter get away from me? Yes it absolutely fucking did, sorry about that!

Chaper 2

You feel more awkward than you could possibly imagine. Worse than sixth form prom where the zip burst on your dress and you had to be tied into it with your best friends shoelaces. Worse than the morning after a one night stand at Uni where you found yourself in a seminar with the person whose bed you'd slept in. Worse than spending the next three years in lectures, seminars and on nights out with that same person. Your stomach churns, the granola bar snack you'd had while you got ready threatening to make a reappearance. To your stressed mind, the only logical conclusion is that you look terrible. You must do - what on earth else would make Ted of all people swear. As soon as you're clear of the red carpet, you dart inside to the loos to check the damage. Lipstick on your teeth? A broken heel? Fuck no, a nip slip?

The dress was far, far lower than you'd normally go for. Its lowest point was lower than the curve of your breasts, so a nip slip was the most likely possibility. On a good day, you were pretty happy with your breasts but you'd really rather they weren't on the front page of the Daily Mail, and you weren't exactly sure whether this was a good day after all. Panic settled into your body like it had found a new home, making itself comfortable in your rapid heartbeat and shaking hands. You're still staring blankly into the mirror when Keeley breezes in on the highest heels you've ever seen. 

"Babe, amazing red carpet! You looked fucking fiiiiit!" She sang.

"No." You said, a little louder than you expected. 

"Umm yes, actually. And don't even get me started on Te-"

"Something's wrong isn't it, what is it? My hair? Have I got lipstick on my face?" Keeley stopped flitting around and took your hands in hers. 

"Hun, nothing's wrong - why would you think that? You look beautiful, I would kill for my tits to look like that. And where I have this boring flat pack arse, you have a bum that Kim K would probably love to clone or do coke off! What could possibly be wrong?" You frowned, panic slowly being kicked out by confusion.

"I heard Ted swear, I thought I'd done something wrong?"

"Ha! Far from it - I think you scared his words away! He only had a single fuck left to give and he gave it to you, how sweet!" She burst into giggles. You look back to your reflection. No stray lipstick, no nipples making a break for freedom, no wild hair. You looked fine, good even. Maybe edging close towards great. Not the best judge of your own appearance (ever the self saboteur), you had to trust Keeley. Shoulders down, head up, you allowed your good posture to boost your confidence. The posture correction resulted in a boob lift and waist amplification that you wished was shouted from the rooftops for everyone to discover - 'Your body is beautiful! But for fucks sake it's better if you stand up straight!' Keeley came to stand behind you, a couple of inches shorter, even in heels. She locked eyes with you in the mirror. "Fucking gorgeous. I'd do you." A peal of laughter rippled through your body and you joined her in giggling at your reflections. "See - and that smile the icing on the cake. You look hot babe, own it. If Ted isn't ready to admit it then there is an entire football team out there who I'm sure would give you a good time!" 

"Oh jesus Keeley, no! I'm too old for them - they're babies! It's been too long since I had sex for me to settle for a disappointing fuck with a footballer who only got their driving licence last year."

"So if its a toss up between sex with a footballer or no sex at all… it's a no? Be fucking for real right now! Some of them are not so young. Isaac's cuuuute." She teased. 

"Isaac is gorgeous, and trust me, I'd be ready in a heartbeat, but I think my crush on Ted might be ruining all other men for me."

"Well then tonight is recon - I'm pretty convinced he likes you, but I'm open to being wrong for one night only. We do the work, find out what the crack is and if it's a no, then you move on and spend your time on someone who does like you."

"Bish bash bosh, easy as that, eh?"

"Sure is. Now, can we please get out of this bathroom and get a fucking drink before Roy decides I've fallen down the loo?!"

You'd only been at the bar for a moment when Richard was at your side offering to buy you a drink. You took him up on the offer and clinked glasses with him before turning to survey the room. You leaned back against the bar, letting your elbows hold you up. Rebecca was holding court across the room greeting shareholders. Keeley had found Roy and they'd joined some of the other players at a table. You tried to look as though you weren't looking out for Ted, but you couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed when your first sweeping glance of the room was fruitless.

"Looking for someone?" A deep voice said to your right. Richard raised his glass in greeting to Ted and went to join his friends.

"No, just seeing what's going on. I was curious to see how everyone scrubbed up." You raised an eyebrow at him. 

"And do they pass muster?" He leaned against the bar next to you. "Like what you see?"

"Hmm. They look great, as usual," You took a long drink.

"But?"

"But there's someone else far more distracting than a bunch of pretty boys."

"Ahh," he laughed a little, "of course, you've seen the same person I have."

"Have I?"

"Well, I hope so. I mean, I hope there wasn't anyone else pouring you into that dress this evening. I'm assuming you have looked in a mirror?" The blush started somewhere at the junction of your thighs, you were sure of it. The heat of it travelling up your body, across the valley between your breasts and up your neck until it flushed in your cheeks. 

"I… umm…" You breathed out a little laugh, "I'm not sure what to say to that." You admitted. He looked victorious,

"At last. It's about time I caught you out. You do it to me often enough." 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Coach Lasso."

"Ohh I think you do. But hey, if you want an out then here it is T Swizz" He nudged you gently with his shoulder so you turned to face him, peering at him over the rim of your glass. You scan his face, taking him in and let your eyes wander to check out his suit.

"I don't think that'll be necessary, I'm sure I'll get you back." Shenanigans on the dancefloor distract you just long enough for him to look you up and down without you noticing. You'd been slightly too far away on the red carpet and surrounded by photographers. Satisfied that Moe wasn't about to try and replace the DJ, you turn back just in time to see that he'd been looking. "Busted." You whisper with a smirk.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He threw your words back at you, blushing a little. "You look incredible, you're wearing the heck outta that dress."

"Thank you, Ted. Though it's hard not to get imposter syndrome." He waved your comment away, 

"You work with these guys every day. You're definitely not an imposter."

"Hmm. Work with, not socialise with."

"You socialise with me, do you feel like an imposter standing here?" He asked, you noted a little concern in his eyes.

"Nope, I think I'm feeling pretty good standing here." He smiled at that. You could see Colin waving over to you and decided it was high time you went to see the team. "Save me a dance, Coach?" You asked coyly.

"Just the one?" 

"I'll take more than one. If we run out of time, you'll just have to take me dancing somewhere else."

The boys were in high spirits, letting their hair down with a few beers in good company always put them in a great mood. They greeted you happily, pulled out a seat for you and complimented your dress, hair, anything else they could without overstepping.

"And your-" Jan gestured with his hands around his own chest, "look absolutely am-" he was cut off by an elbow to the ribs by Isaac.

"Oi, show some respect." 

"Thanks Isaac." Behind him, Jan did the chef's kiss gesture instead, making you giggle. The evening progressed smoothly, you sat with the team for a while before moving to the same table as Keeley and Roy. Ted was at the same table but sat directly across from you. With a couple of drinks giving him more confidence, you noticed his gaze linger on you for longer and longer each time he looked over. You tried to aim for composed and indifferent, focusing on laughing and talking with Keeley. With the auction over, Rebecca was also able to relax and the three of you enjoyed a couple of cocktails together. You danced to the livelier music with the team and Keeley, the DJ churning out classic dance songs. Eventually you dropped into the seat next to Ted, hot and breathing hard. 

"Hope you're not too tired?" He teased. 

"Don't worry Ted, I've got plenty of stamina." He laughed,

"Drink or dance?" He queried. 

"Dance."

"Quick decisions, I like it." He stood and held out his hand for her, leading her to the dancefloor. You stepped into his arms, looping your arms around his neck. You felt his large hands on your waist, could feel the heat from them through your dress. You moved together, hips slotted against each other. Your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of his neck and you heard his breath hitch. "You know there's a bunch of footballers over there probably far better at dancing than me?"

"Maybe so, but I've been wanting to dance with you for a while."

"That so?"

"Evidently I was far better at disguising it than I thought I was."

"I wouldn't say that." 

"So… am I good at hiding my ogling or… not?"

"Just because I'm oblivious doesn't mean my fellow coaches are. Let's just say Beard has been very vocal about it." You hid your face by turning away from him and looking over his shoulder to glare in Beard's direction. 

"Excellent. Thought I was doing so well." He leaned down to whisper right into your ear, the whole of the side of your neck and down into the non existent neckline of your dress completely exposed due to the way your hair had been swept to one side. 

"So it's true?" You turned quickly, his lips brushing against your cheek as you did so, making you shiver.  

"The ogling? 100% true." You held his gaze, determined not to crumble in the face of your embarrassment.  You heard Keeley's voice in your ear, a cheerleading inner monologue. You're hot, you're smart, you're funny. Trust in yourself. The seconds ticked by and you could feel your resolve weakening and your heart pounding, nerves getting the better of you despite the gin and tonics you'd been sinking all evening. Finally, his hand on your waist gripped just a little tighter, slid just a little lower and he smiled. His eyes crinkled at the corners, darkening as you took a half step closer to him. 

"Good, thought I was alone on the ogling. Weird word." 

"You haven't been! I've never noticed!" He laughed at that, suddenly a bit surer in himself. 

"Ohh I have been. Love those yoga sessions you do right in front of my window. Love the yoga pants in particular actually, though this dress has a pretty similar effect." You were astonished. This whole time you'd been absolutely convinced that he saw you and saw sweatpants and a ponytail. 

"You should have joined in."

"Now that would have potentially been very embarrassing, so no." His hand once again drifted across the top of your arse making his intentions very clear. You'd no idea how long you'd been dancing at this point, songs had blurred into each other.

"Shame, I do love a willing student."

"I'm very willing, no need to worry about that. Only question is, how we gonna get out of here without being the talk of the room?"

"Sure that's what you want?"

"Are you?"

"Do I want you to get me out of this dress as soon as possible? Yes, please."

You don't know how it happened exactly, but it certainly involved Keeley (obviously). You were looking for a suitable opportunity to duck out when she'd collared you by the bar. 

"OK babe, I've done my recon and I can say I'm like 95% confident that he's into you."

"I know hun, we talked when we were dancing. Apparently I'm oblivious." Keeley would have been put out at being beaten to the scoop had she not been so excited instead. "Anyway, now I'm trying to get the hell out of here without it looking like that's what I'm doing, I'm avoiding the lads so they don't ask me to the after party."

"Is that why Ted looks like he's getting closer and closer to the door?"

"Probably, first one out calls a cab."

"OK… ok, you go now. Right now, babe. I'll say to Roy that I'd been with you in the loos and you didn't feel well." You beamed at her, kissed her cheek and darted for the door, shooting a quick glance in Ted's direction. Hidden at the side of the building, you brought up the Uber app and called for your ride. You turned around to check the doors and walked right into Ted, your heels nearly disappeared from under you and your soul left your body. 

"Holy shit, Ted! You scared the crap out of me!" He caught your elbow and held you steady. 

"Sorry, sweetheart, ready to go?" Behind you the cab had just arrived. You didn't say much in the car on the way to his flat. He'd asked where you'd rather go, not wanting you to feel worried about having someone in your space but equally not wanting you to feel like you couldn't leave if you wanted to. You hesitated behind him at the door as he fiddled with the lock, once open, he let you in first and you took the stairs up to his floor. Inside the door you toe off your heels. "Whiskey ok?" He asks.

"Please." You've been to the flat before, he hosted games night a couple of times, but you've never been here alone. You move to look at some of the photos he's got dotted around - mostly Henry, of course, but also one of the four coaches, one of all the players from a team night out, one of you, Rebecca and Keeley from Higgins late summer BBQ. "Cute photos." He hands you a tumbler of whiskey with ice. Shyness starts to take over now that the gin is wearing off so you're glad for the booze top up. 

"How long?"

"How long what?" You wonder.

"How long has the ogling been going on?"

"Ahh. Well, I've not quite been there a year. So…just under a year."

"No? Day one?"

"Day one." You nod. No point in hiding anything anymore.

"Same." You cough a little on the drink you'd just taken.

"No way."

"Honestly. Higgy was givin' you the tour and you just looked at Beard and told him his posture was terrible. And then you tore Roy a new one about how badly he'd been lookin' after his knee. I thought any woman who walks in on their first day and straight out the gate gives Roy shit ought to be worshiped." You arch an eyebrow at that, finishing off your drink. The ice cubes clinked as you set the glass on the mantle. "And all you've done for 11 months is prove everyday that you should be worshiped." He adds, his voice barely above a whisper. You scoff at his comment, 

"Hardly. I'm already into you, Ted," you tease. "You don't need to go that far." He frowned.

"Sounds like I do if you don't believe me?" You roll your eyes but before you can speak again he steps toward you and slips one hand behind you on your back and cups your cheek with the other. All coherent thought leaves your body. "If you don't believe me, I'm happy to show you." His eyes search yours and you meet him halfway in a long awaited kiss. The hand on your back lowers and he runs his large palm down your arse and squeezes, pulling you into him. You groan at the action, deepening the kiss. Your hands take on a life of their own, running up his arms and into his hair, pulling him as close as you can. He finds your zip and pulls it gently down, the heavy rose gold dress slips down your arms and drops to the floor with a soft thud. You're immediately exposed, you weren't able to wear a bra with the dress, and your soft lace knickers don't exactly provide much coverage. He moves away from you, originally to help you step out of the dress puddle, but is distracted by just how quickly you've ended up so nearly naked. You feel your arms moving to cover yourself, but he takes your hands. You step out of the dress, he doesn't give you your hands back, he pulls you back in to him. "You never need to cover up for me, honey. Fuck, you are so beautiful."

"And you're overdressed." You move to undo the buttons on his shirt, loosening the tie first and lifting it over his head. Each button opens him up more and more to you. At the last one, you pull the shirt out from his suit trousers. He takes the shirt off, you're far too distracted by ruining your hands over his broad chest, fingertips tickling across his soft stomach. You catch his eye, his expression hard to read - somewhere between shy and nervous. "You're beautiful." You reassure him in kind, planting kisses along his collarbone. Your hands span across his back, feeling the tension in his shoulders. "Hmm. I'd love to work those knots out for you, but I think there's more important things to do first." You mutter against his lips. Spurred into action, he walks backwards towards the bedroom, pulling you with him. You find the bed eventually, landing in a tangle of limbs and Ted's clothes. His body is pressed against yours so perfectly, you wonder how you've done without it for so long. His hands run through your hair, down your neck and the column of your throat. You tip your head back to give him more access and he roughly palms your nipple, making you gasp. "Fuck me, Ted." You moan, 

"Ummhmm, that's the aim baby." You swat his arm making him laugh somewhere near the underside of your breasts, his mustache tickling the soft skin. He travels lower still, a trail of hot, wet kisses against your stomach and hips. He hooks your knickers into his thumbs and looks up at you, a silent request. You smile shyly while he rolls them down your legs. Before you can think, he's settled between your legs and is moving your thighs apart. You could swear you see stars when he pulls your hips down the bed and sets his mouth on you. Your back arches you away from him until he brings an arm across you to pin you down. His mouth is hot and his tongue teases you in ways impossible to describe. He works you up until you can hardly breathe and the only sound you can identify is his name. Your thighs begin to shake, the pleasure almost too much, but he doesn't change anything he's doing. Your orgasm feels like it's been ripped from your body and you feel a sob rise from your throat, as if the relief is too much to bear. You're so out of it for a minute that you don't see just how affected Ted is, he moans into you, grinding into the mattress. When you can finally breathe, he follows his original path back up your body. You've slung an arm over your eyes but he gently removes it and kisses you. You taste the heady mixture of yourself and whiskey. He pauses, wanting to look at you, to check in. 

"You OK?" He whispers. You nod, still not quite ready to string a sentence together. You can feel his cock, hard and straining as it presses against your thigh. You move your leg just enough so that there's a little friction and he immediately bucks his hips towards you. 

"I need you, now." He says, making you whine. You pull him back between your legs and roll your hips towards his. He quickly slides his boxers down and grabs a condom from the side table. He's back and pressing against your core in no time at all. You cup his cheek as he did to you earlier, 

"Show me." He pushes into you, slowly, carefully until he's fully seated within you. You both take a second, but the weight of his body on yours and the feel of him inside you has you craving more movement, more friction. You roll your hips again, and he drops his forehead to your chest with a guttural moan. "Show me." You repeat. This time, he listens. Slowly fucking into you but building to a desperate pace. Your legs lock around his waist. The new angle has you on the edge straight away. With only a couple of thrusts, your own orgasm lines up with his, and you're both incoherent with the intensity. His body slumps against yours, and he leaves a tender kiss just under your ear. You're still trying to figure out how to breathe when you hear a stamping from the floor above. He moves off you, you instantly miss the delicious warmth of him. He discards the condom and reaches for his boxers. The stamping again. 

"Sorry, Ms Shipley!" He manages to shout. He looks down to you on the bed, still boneless. "I'll get you some water, be right back." He smiles. While he's gone, you use the bathroom and pull on a t-shirt you find in there. By the time he's back, you're sitting cross-legged on the bed.

"Thank you." You take the water gratefully. 

"Nice t-shirt." He smirks.

"You don't mind?"

"Definitely not." He reaches for you, and you lay down against him, tucking one knee between his. He runs his hand up and down your back. "I love you." You hear him murmur into your hairline just as sleep begins to take you both. You're just about able to reply, 

"I love you too, Ted." He holds you tighter. 

FIN

[fregion-bond-breaker]

Fregions bones ached, his muscles sore. It had come for him slowly, so slowly he hadnt even noticed it. He was already long in the tooth by a large mark compared to most charr. He thought, maybe that meant he'd just keep on going like this forever. But one morning in a borrowed bed visiting Kas and jory, he felt it. This ache, this weakness. He was so tired… Kas had been the first to find him. He'd tried to get out of bed but he just couldnt muster the strength.

The heavy thump of his body hitting the floor must have drawn her attention up there. She had gasped, and he had laughed, weak and raspy, as she tried to help him up without looking at his naked form. Even now as he drew closer to the end…he was still embarrassing her. He was glad that never changed…she was fun to tease. She had asked if he was ill, running a fever. But no, he had shook his head and smiled sadly at her.

"Im dying…" He had said in a low voice. "I think my times up." She had panicked. Clones jumping every which way as they ran to likely contact a doctor, send letters to their friends and who knows what else. He remembered her shaky hands on his forehead as she scolded him for joking like that. But she knew he was telling the truth…

As the days drew on and his strength failed him. He cursed the world. What an ignoble end for the legendary Charr Commander. Hero of Tyria. To die peacfuly in bed. Not on the field of battle, not with a sword in his hand. But in bed, with his friends worrying over him.

Braham and Rox were surprisingly the first to come see him on his death bed. They walked in, hand in hand and he had to stop himself from laughing himself in to a coughing fit. Leave it to the young to wait till your dying to figure themselves out. Rox spoke about Olmican spirituality, about not needing to be afraid. He corrected her of course. It wasnt fear he felt after all, just disappointment it wasn't fighting. Braham joked that he could grab his mace, and send him to the mists, but before he could take the norn up on the offer Rox punched him in the shoulder with a disapproving look. He thanked them, for their visit, and wished them well in their new life. Peace lets one think on these sorts of things he supposed.

The next to visit him was Anise and Livia of all people.

"Even if we forced your hand…you were still a blade member. And an invaluable ally to Kryta, Commander." Anise said.

"Could always reanimate you if you want. Maybe let you touch the scepter of orr so you can keep on going?" She had a sad look on her face. "This is the second time I've watched you go, big guy. Wonder what you'll come back as next time?" She chuckled. "Maybe one of those bears in the north?"

Anise chuckled behind her hand. "Or a Tengu? You were always oddly beautiful for a charr." Fregion smiled. He was glad they could joke with him like that.

Crecia, Logan and Rytlock came next.

"Commander…" Logan spoke first. "It has been, an honor working with you. I also took your advice with Rytlock, and Crecias." He wrapped his hand around the charrs waist and pulled him in close. Rytlock blushed but did not fight, simply nuzzled the human affectionately.

"Its a shame we aren't out fighting something Commander…no charr wants to go so sweetly." He nodded. "Though I suppose, after killing Gods, Dragons, Demons and a slew of other horrors, I think that more then makes up for it."

Crecia stepped forward, hesitant. "I know we… and the legions…have had a rocky relationship. But I speak for all charr, thank you commander. Without you, the charr may just be icy thralls under Jormag, or worse. There may not have been any charr left at all." She placed a blood legion flag, folded neatly, on his bed. "For the legions…soldier." She and Rytlock both saluted.

Zojja came down from her large tower with a letter in hand from the Astral ward as well. Though she wasnt alone he was sure. He felt the familiar whispers and carssing of Peitha in his mind.

"Wayfi- I mean…Commander." After a moment looking forlornly at the ground she whispered. "…Fregion." She placed the letter on the bed side stand. "Considering what uh, what we know about me…and our previous history. I thought I should come see you off. I- I didnt think I'd feel this awful though." She sniffled and sent a watery smile his way. "I'm going to live a long time, ya know. The Astral ward wanted to ascend you but, given how volitile and poorly your relationship with them was, i figured id tell them no in your stead." He couldnt help but laugh at that, though it took him some time to stop coughing after.

"Mortal…you have been most amusing, I could bring you in to my fold. It would be a shame to lose someone like you…" She knew the answer, and her voice, normally low and composed, had a hint of desperation to it. "But I know the answer. Maybe we'll stumble in to each other in the mists. May your journey be gentle and easy." Zojja choked out a sob. He reached a trembling claw to her face, wiping a way the tears. He smiled. He was glad his friend was on the road to being better now too. She gripped his hand tightly, soft whimpers and sobs escaping her as she clung to him. He pretended to not hear the whispers of 'dont go' and 'please dont leave me alone again…'

On his final day…he knew it was time. He told Marjory and Kasmeer as much. They sat with him through out the day. Helped him out to the plaza of Kormir. The moon was high and the stars were shining. As if the universe itself was winking sadly at him. Or maybe his eyesight was starting to get blurry. He had asked them, told them and no one else of his secret devotion to Kormir, about his past connection to her. Kas had been extatic the first time he had told them, so many years ago. So in secret, with only the priests of Kormir to read him his last rights. They sat beside him as he lay, Caladbolg in hand, on a small cot prepared for him.

"Commander…?" Kasmeers soft voice broke the silence. Marjory gave her a quick comforting squeeze. "Fregion…" She corrects sadly. "Im only now realizing myself how little we…we used your name. And it- it hurts knowing the whys, and that only now does your name come easy."

Marjory presses her forehead against the side of Kasmeers head before turning to him and saying. "You lived a long, hard life commander. What are ya, 100 years old? You got to be a miser of a charr." she laughed. "Its a shame none of your cubs are here to see you off…charr cultures been changing, its a shame you…you wont get to see it." Fregion smiles up at the stars. He understands.

He only breaths deeply in response. His eyes are growing heavy. The comfort of Caladbolg on his chest, Tybalts lucky cog at his side. His warbands old pin, a pen that Demmi had given him that hed treasured after her death. He closed his eyes, and for a moment. He felt surrounded. Warmth and love filled him.

"Good to see you again, agent."

"The three of us are back together huh lightbringer?"

"Fregion, you've carried Caladbolg with honor. Im grateful we get to meet again."

"Hey there he is! Took him long enough! Look how OLD he is!" The cheers of roudy charr rung out.

"…Goodbye. I love you all…and hello again." He exhaled for the last time. Carried away by loving hands.

[nobodysdaydreams]

Crack/Crangst idea you want to share?

Once again, a perfect anon, because in anticipation of Star Wars Day, my brain came up with a crack Star Wars AU and now I have an excuse to share it (it’s more crack than Crangst, but I hope you like it!)

This crack au features Anakin and Palpatine as semi-problematic grandparents in an au where Anakin never turns, but Palpatine is never discovered and keeps evilly plotting and cloning himself a son while Anakin and Padme raise their family together. Eventually, Anakin and Padme become grandparents to Ben and Palpatine becomes Rey’s problematic boomer grandpa who shows up at his son’s house on Jakku holidays in order to try to bribe is granddaughter with presents to get her to join the darkside.

Details of this AU include the following in no particular order:

Palpatine cloning himself a son and asking everyone not to question who the boy is or where he came from

Anakin and Padme congratulate Palpatine on his son. Even though Palpatine is fuming because his son is powerless but of course Anakin’s children are some of the most powerful in the galaxy, he has to pretend to be a good father, for the sake of public appearances. He’s really bad at it.

Palpatine initially plans on naming his son “clone attempt 53” or something until his advisors tell him it will look bad if he doesn’t give his son an actual name. Palpatine lazily picks the first name he thinks of and then forgets it and continuously calls his son by the wrong name.

Palpatine’s adult son has to give his dad multiple talks about boundaries and why he shouldn’t be telling his ten-year-old granddaughter Sith legends as bedtime stories

Palpatine (reading a bedtime story to five year old Rey): “Tell me child, have you ever heard of the tragedy of Darth Plageuis the wise? It’s not a story your weak and powerless father would tell you.”

Rey’s Father (yelling from the hallway): “Dad, you know I can hear you, right?”

When it comes to Rey, Palpatine is thrilled that his creepy evil Sith experiments FINALLY created a grandchild with the power he desires, only to discover that power comes with a force bond to, you guessed it, another Skywalker. (Palpatine’s hatred for the Skywalker family grows with every passing generation he fails to turn to the dark side).

Han would for sure make a comment about Sheev being old and say something like “isn’t it weird this guy never seems to die even though he was like super old when Anakin was a kid? And how does he randomly have a son? Where did that guy even come from?” These comments drive Palpatine crazy, but Han is Leia Organa (or Leia Skywalker in this AU)’s husband so he gets away with it. (Also Han regularly almost exposes Palpatine’s plans by making casual jokes. This is not on purpose, Han has no clue what’s going on, and he just sort of roams around the senate building while his wife is in meetings causing trouble and speaking out of turn without a care in the world, but Palpatine grows weary of him and constantly has to change his plans because he thinks Han must be onto him but really Han is just snooping around cause he’s bored).

To Palpatine’s utter disappointment, Rey loves the Jedi. An elderly Anakin specifically takes her under his wing, as she reminds him of a young Ashoka. Plus they both grew up in poverty on a desert planet (because Rey’s dad moved out as soon as he could) so I think they’d have a lot to talk about. I can see Anakin showing up to Luke’s Jedi school specifically to take the kids on fun and dangerous missions and Luke can’t say anything against it because it’s his own dad doing this. I like to imagine Anakin and Rey, impulsive little sand orphans that they are, running around on Jedi missions getting messy and ruining their clothes while Padme and Ben (who would bond over their love of fashion and dramatically stylish capes) always look like they’re trying to be on the cover of a fashion magazine. Also you can’t tell me Padme wouldn’t dress her little grandson, baby Benny, up in the cutest little outfits.

Little Ben, Finn, and Rey go to Jedi training together and Palpatine tries his best to get Rey to spill secrets on Luke and his other students to figure out how to turn them. He teaches her to use force lightening and tries to get her to use it against her classmates but instead Rey teaches her new trick to her friends, who accidentally zap Palpatine in the face. He is not amused. Han accidentally makes jokes about his appearance at a senate meeting in front of a microphone that was left on.

In a last ditch desperate effort to get his apprentice, Palpatine invites himself to Luke’s Jedi school, and when Luke is distracted, he tries to bribe Ben, Rey, and Finn into joining the dark side using the promise of things kids like, including toys and candy. He tried the same thing with Luke and Leia when they were young and it fails both times

There is a point where everyone (eventually) figures out Palpatine is evil, but by then, Palpatine is so old and out of it, it doesn’t really matter. There’s one time where he dramatically tries to stand up and take the energy from Rey and Ben’s force bond at a family party, but then his old man knees give out and he topples over and falls asleep in his chair. I’m not much of a Reylo shipper, but I do think it would be funny if he tried this during the objections portion of their wedding and Poe and Finn have to awkwardly and uncomfortably escort him out like wedding bouncers. I also think it would be funny if during this he yelled something like “Fools! I am all the Sith!” or “You will find that it is YOU who are mistaken!” or “Stand together… die together!” with zero context and shoots forth the teeniest weakest little flash of force lightening he can muster and everyone just writes him off as being an old person who’s starting to lose it.

Might add more later but I hope this finds its target audience.

[clownery-and-fuckery]

Did you guys know there's a word limit on Tumblr messages...? I didn't. Until now.

Anyways enjoy this!!! @moss-tombstone and I have been talking about this one for a few days and it's KILLING me in the best way..... I had to share the suffering !!!!

I present: Tantiss!AU, the AU where instead of Emerie being shipped out to Hemlock, The Bad Batch were, and they assist Hemlock on Mount Tantiss.

Here's a little snippet of the AU and it's premise, have fun!!!

Doctor Hemlock calmly strolled through the cold labs of Kamino. So far, the test subjects had been disappointing. They were sloppy, lacking the brilliance he had been told of.

However, one room caught his eye. He glanced in, ignoring the head scientist as she spoke of her supposed achievements. He stared into an observation room, head tilted curiously.

There was a small child sitting in the centre of the room, scatter paper surrounding him, equations so advanced it took the doctor himself a moment to recognise them scribbled in a child's chunky writing.

He wore thick corrective lenses, and his eyes were bright behind the glass.

Fascinating.

The child himself looked bored, huffing and puffing as he moved on to another activity, seemingly needing something more sustainable to occupy his attention with. Hemlock watched him etch into the wall, and walked closer.

"Doctor?" The head scientists soft voice was shushed as Hemlock pointed into the room.

"What is that?" He asked. The scientist hesitated. She sighed softly.

"A failed experiment." She explained mournfully. "He along with his squad have been slated for decommissioning within the next few rotations."

"There are more?" The doctor stared at the child, who glanced around as he met the doctors eyes. They watched each other for a moment. "I would like to see the rest."

She hesitated again. "That is unwise." She said finally. "This squad is defective, they will fail, and perish."

The doctor waved a dismissive hand. "Perhaps they would under you," He said shortly. "However, I see potential in this one. Show me the others."

He followed the scientist, and this time, he was not disappointed.

Experimental unit ninety-nine. Four clones, each exceptional and young. Simply eager to please. They had every quality Hemlock could have wanted in a squad.

He approached the youngest first. Divide and conquer, and the like.

He was in an observation room, cold and awaiting a medical professional. When he saw the doctor, he watched him curiously.

"Hello," Hemlock started calmly. The child nodded, small and nervous in front of the doctor. He tilted his head. "What's your name?" Hemlock asked him.

The child hesitated. "I am CT-9907." He told him after a moment. "My brothers call me Tech. Who are you?"

"Doctor Hemlock," He introduced himself. "I'm one of the head scientists of the Republic." He moved around, picking up the equations the child had been working on before.

Tech tilted his head curiously. "What kind of doctor are you?" He asked. "I've never seen you around Kamino before."

"I am here to assess the cloning facilities," Hemlock explained, ignoring the question. "To see their value."

They looked at each other for a moment. "And I must admit," Hemlock said softly, gesturing to the young clone. "I believe you and your brothers exceed my expectations."

That confused the child more, who frowned. "We are a defective batch." Tech told him plainly.

"Not to me," The doctor kneeled beside the chair, eye level with Tech now. "I believe you are far more valuable than any other regular clone."

Tech didn't answer. Though, judging from the obvious flush of embarrassment, his ears turning red as he looked away, Hemlock had already cracked him.

"Did you do these?" Hemlock asked, holding up the piece of paper. The clone nodded slowly.

"The normal equations were too easy," He glanced towards the one-way glass, before turning back to the doctor. "I saw them on Mistress Se's datapad, I wanted to try them."

"Fascinating." The doctor smiled, before standing up. "I believe you and your brothers would do far greater things under my care." He said quietly, watching for his reaction.

Tech lit up, only for a moment. "Off world training?" His voice wavered with excitement. "That only happens when you're in your second year of training."

The doctor shook his head with a soft laugh. "Not training," He corrected. "Think of it as a- relocation."

Tech paused. "You mean we'd.. stay? With you?" He looked almost hopeful.

"If you'd like," Hemlock knew he had already won. "Or you could stay on Kamino–"

"Um-!" Tech interrupted, looking startled, glancing around again as if they were being watched. They probably were. Hemlock watched as the child came to a decision, wringing his hands.

"That would be..." He hesitated, then gripped his medical uniform tight. "I couldn't. Not without my brothers. And they like it here."

Hemlock didn't let up. "How about you ask?" He suggested mildly. "Maybe they feel the same way as you do."

"As I do?" Tech echoed softly.

"Well," Hemlock gestured to himself. "You do want to come with me, don't you?"

Another hesitation. "I suppose.." Tech admitted quietly. Hemlock smiled. "Then it's settled." He said, turning away and pocketing the paper. "Talk to your brothers, and I'll speak with Mistress Se."

Tech's nod was all he needed, and Hemlock walked away.

———

Years later, in a similar lab, Tech waited patiently for the doctor to arrive.

He was older, dressed in a medical tunic plain and fitted for his role as the doctor's assistant. He had grown leaner in the last few years, freshly shaved from his most recent surgical procedure with the scars to match.

The implants drilled into his skull pulsed painfully, still.

The doors opened smoothly, and Hemlock stood at the entrance. "Good morning, Tech." He said plainly, not looking up. He stood to attention, nodding stiffly.

"Good morning." He responded.

"Come, we have much to do," Doctor Hemlock gestured, and the two of them walked out into the barren halls of the lab. It wasn't like Kamino, though Tech's memories of the facility were hazy at best, now.

They walked calmy through the halls, clones being filtered in and out of labs. Now, he barely remembered a time before Tantiss. Before the eerie silence of the halls and the unrelenting cold of the labs and doctors.

There had been a time, many years ago, where he had enjoyed this place. Enjoyed the walk from test to test, filled by the chatter of himself and the doctor. Those times were rarer with the extra workload, replaced by forced, stilted quiet until Tech was spoken to.

It made those times all the more special. Those times were the doctor would indulge them- indulge him despite his busy day made Tech all the more greatful for him. Despite the Empire, despite everything, Hemlock still made room for him and his brothers.

"Your brother should be returning from his most recent round of patrols." Hemlock mentioned idly, walking into a room filled with clones, strapped to tables and fearfully hitching at the sight of the chief scientist.

Tech tried not to look surprised. "I see," He said neutrally. "I will try my best to catch him before he heads back out again."

Seeing his oldest brother was a treat only given once every five or six rotations, give or take. That was completely dependent on the doctors schedule however. If the Empire saw it fit, Tech would not be privy to seeing his brother's for weeks at a time.

The longest he'd ever gone without them recently was only half a standard cycle. Such a stretch of time now seemed so insignificant, compared to when they were small enough to still care deeply for the other's presence.

The time they were allowed was much more than enough for Tech. He understood his and his brother's importance- their work was valuable.

They were proud to do it. Hemlock was proud of them for doing it. That was all that mattered.

They were all on schedule's, after all. The Empire did not wait around for siblings to catch up. So Tech didn't get his hopes up as he watched the doctor hum in acknowledgement and pick at a tray of injectors.

The job came first. They all knew it.

He assisted when asked, taking samples from the required clones without question. When they had the adequate amount, Tech had taken the tray from the doctor's hands to deliver to Mistress Se.

Tech still found it daunting to see their old caretaker. He admitted it had been a shock for all his brother's and himself to see the once renowned head scientist be marched in and forced to work on the same level they did.

He tried not to think about how easily she had given them up everytime he was forced to see her. It made his skin crawl, knowing either way his brothers were not enough in her eyes.

It only served to make him even more efficient, to prove to her that doctor Hemlock had been right, that they were worth the time and effort to raise them.

Hemlock was a far better scientist than Mistress Se. Doctor Hemlock would never discard anything, seeing potential in all his work. It was admirable, unlike the Kaminoan.

Still, he had his job, she had hers. The fact that they were interlinked was merely a mildly irritating coincidence, nothing more. Tech marched to her lab with the same level of apathy he had grown and learnt to show most things in this large, confined lab.

She was waiting for him, and took the samples slowly. "Thank you, CT-9907." She thanked him quietly, and Tech nodded shortly. "Is there anything else I can do to assist you?" He asked, following the routine.

She thought about it for a moment, and handed him a datapad. "Doctor Hemlock requested these schematics," She said softly. "Please see to it that he receives and reviews them."

Tech took the datapad, noting it had been locked, and nodded again. "I'll see it done." He assured, and turned on his heel before marching back out.

He walked down the long stretch of halls, hearing the echoed agonised screaming bounce off the walls. Another common occurance of the lab that one became desensitised to with time.

He never understood their need for resistance. The doctor had told them they were being useful, what part of that sounded bad? What part of their use warranted screams?

He returned the datapad to Hemlock's waiting hands, and he was dismissed for an undisclosed amount of time. Tech took the free time with a reluctant notice of gratitude, practically running down towards the kennels.

He knew that Wrecker would have either already gone to see him or be there, so Tech hurried along to visit his brothers. Crosshair was off-world, on a other mission to retrieve and collect more clones for the doctors experimentation.

The thought of others being caught, and the flashing images of what the doctor had done made Tech's chest tighten in discomfort, oddly sympathetic. He shoved the traitorous thoughts away and kept walking.

The kennels were empty aside from Hunter, who went from looking tired to relieved at a moments notice upon seeing his youngest brother. He practically bound towards the younger one, wrapping him up tight.

"I've missed you," He said softly, hugging his younger brother closer. Tech smiled privately, squeezing his oldest brother.

"As have I," He said in a rush. "I was unable to catch you the last time, and the doctor held me for observation for a few extra days, but I'm here for a while."

Hunter smiled sadly, rubbing his thumb along Tech's cheek. "That's great, little one." He said quietly. "What's Hemlock got you doing now?"

Tech dove into his explanation of the last few days. They were rather boring, lonely days, where he hadn't been able to even make it back to their official barracks, but Tech couldn't remember the last time anyone in their squad had actually slept in there.

All in the name of progress, he supposed. The work he had accomplished made up for the hours spent bent over projects and schematics on clones DNA had made up for the sleepless nights and sore neck.

Hunter had told him of his time outside, too. He had done well, nothing ever got past Hunter. Hemlock had sent on his high praise as Tech was leaving to pass along, and Hunter basked in it.

"When's Cross coming back?" Hunter asked at one point. Tech shrugged, a bit disappointed.

"I am unsure," He admitted with a sigh. "Doctor Hemlock has not been forthcoming with his answers. However, I am told he is on task."

Hunter huffed. "What a surprise." He muttered. Tech tilted his head nervously.

More and more often, nowadays, his brothers had been prone to voicing their... less than polite opinions on the doctor. This was both validating and concerning.

They had no one else but the doctor. He had raised them- privately, at one point in their lives- he was reminiscent of a parental figure in their lives. This made the change in his behaviour harder to bear but easier to adapt to.

This was because the doctor wouldn't hurt them without cause. Tech knew that, he trusted that he knew that. The pain was just another step towards repaying all the doctor had done for them.

Their opinions on the doctor did not change their debt to him. Nothing could.

Hunter noticed Tech's frown and sighed, hugging him close again. "Just.. be careful." He warned, tone pleading. "I can't stand the thought of you guys getting anymore hurt while I'm gone."

Tech nodded, though he couldn't fully understand. It must have been the stress of the extra added tasks that made everyone a bit jumpy. Once things settled, their lives would continue as normal.

His datapad pinged, with a message from Hemlock demanding him in a lab on a lower level.

He paused, swallowing thickly as he glanced to his eldest brother. They both knew what the lower levels meant.

The rush to be useful overpowered the apprehension. For the doctor, there was seldom Tech wouldn't do.

"I need to go." Tech finally said, though he knew Hunter desperately wished him to stay. To stay with his brothers, hidden from the medical equipment and horrid screaming that pierced his ears, even in the depths of sleep.

He would outgrow this phase of resentment, Tech knew. He hadn't been around the doctor as often, he didn't understand why he was so stressed. He would come around in time.

Still, Hunter looked like he wanted to voice this, but squeezed his younger brothers arm tight and pulled away. "I'll be here for two extra days." He told him. "When you're released, come visit again, okay?"

Tech nodded, smiling slightly as he stepped away. "Tell Wrecker I said hello," He said, getting to the door. Hunter nodded. "I will." He assured.

Tech mumbled his thanks before leaving the kennels, making his way towards the elevators on the other end of the hall.

He stood in the confined space, ready to face whatever it was the doctor had waiting, reminding himself that it was all for the betterment of the galaxy.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Favourite Star Wars fic?

Oh dear, dear, this is a toughie ;/////////////////;

These are just some and are not in at all order except for the first three because those ones are very close to heart. Give them a read and a follow ♥ You wouldn't be disappointed!

I haven't read many yet since I stopped doing binge reads due to my eyes, but I might get in on that train again soon ♥

Name and Soul by Decepticonsensual will takes the lead because oh my god did this fuck me up in more ways than one with fluff and angst. It's in complete, but I will die on the hill this fic was written on.

Sheep Song by @syn0vial takes second because I need this in my life, okay? Psych horror between current and young Boba with Jango in the mix full of the unknown? Beautifully written that it takes you to the same journey as Boba's.

White All Over by @padmestrilogy is a fic/blog I came across by accident and nearly paid no mind because there was just one post or like not even a full page at the time. This is by far an in-depth POV fic from Jango's eyes mid-clone creation. All applause for this fic.

The Tiniest Councilor by Quiet_Shadow is one I read almost so many damn times because of how cute and fluffy it is. This is my ultimate comfort fic because Plo plus younglings while in a council meeting is more than enough to give comfort to my constantly bleeding heart.

Finish What You Start by @sinisterexaggerator I don't think I need to explain why I love this so much but Hondo silly dancing before you some really saucy stuff and him being overly all perfect and portrayed with such precision? B L I S S, I tell you.

Sovereign by @tits-fisto fills my stupid PloKitHeart with so much contentment and satisfaction, I have not read anything better in terms of PloKit fics. Sovereign is indeed Sovereign.

You Came, You Called by @toomanybandstocare is a fic very close to heart and is very personal to me. If you need comfort in times of dealing with really heavy shit, read this.

Nightshift by @wolffegirlsunite is the fic that broke me so damn much I literally wept for days to weeks because this is just pure, unadulterated, lost-love angst that has been my death. Still my favorite Fox x Reader fic of all time. All. Time.

The Merc and the Moon by @eyecandyeoz Darth Fett is my hidden ship that I am still so beyond grateful to have been accepted, embraced, and materialized with such glorious, glorious manner of writing and art that I am ready to just die for Candy (author), really.

Boba Has Baby’s First Identity Crisis & Jango Plays Hungry Hungry Hypocrite by @yellowocaballero This is such a fun shit!boy Boba read that if you're ever having a bad day, please. Do yourself a favor and read this because this has me on a wholesome hold ♥

The Hype by @blueink-bluesoul I'm not even gonna say something about this because I delayed this for so long because the sheer amount of FILTH in this fic is gonna make you thirstier than a bitch in a desert <: But I just wanna also say the skill on now making this fic cluttered with so many characters just blows my mind. And the amount of dick pleasure in this fic is enough to serve as balm to a weary soul.

[Ploffe] Plo Koon & Wolffe Friendship Fic by @wild-karrde is another comfort fic of mine that is s wholesome and such a warm read every time I go through my bookmarks of 'in case to read for duchii depresso' ♥

[kimageddon]

A Prince of Dathomir - Chapter 117

-|- Page header by space-b33 -|- Masterlist -|- Prince of Dathomir Masterlist -|- Sins of the Father Masterlist -|- Art Masterlist -|- Check out my : Ko-fi / AO3 -|- Commissions Open -|- My Patreon -|- My Linktree -|- Join/Leave my tag list -|-

Maul x Nightsister OC (Zaiya Valessa) - Slight Canon Divergence

Word count: Approx 3300

Contains/Warnings: Death, violence, blood, child death.

Chapter Summary: Zaiya and Feral find some Jedi for the hunt.

Notes: So... hi. It's been a hot minute... or 6 months... Well then. This is awkward. As it turns out, my burn out was a bit more severe than anticipated. But here we are! So, what's been happening in my absence? I had a few wonderful comments and check ins from readers asking if I plan to update.... I think this answers that question. As for the rest, uh... I was nearly made homeless, moved house, drew a bunch of stuff, deleted a bunch of social accounts and went ghost for a bit... had a massive breakdown, then put my big girl pants on and decided to try writing again. Next thing I know, I have written like 5+ full chapters. So that was cool. As for APOD and Sins, I don't think I'll be able to keep up with a weekly schedule again, as much as I would love to. But we'll see how we go with it.

Did ya miss me?

Hunt - Part 1

So often when the other Masters and Padawans would go out on assignment with their clone battalions, while Farley Korro was left at the Temple to meditate, only hearing about all the action days after it happened. 

Not today! 

He and Master Avona Teller had been assigned to a small mission, not his first, but among the very few he’d been granted permission to attend alongside Master Teller. He assumed it was because she didn't have enough faith in him yet.

It bothered him sometimes. Yeah, he was still young, but he was a Padawan, not a youngling! Farley was a little frustrated, he wanted to be a good Padawan and an even better Jedi… but he didn’t always see eye-to-eye with his Master. She seemed to see the Force differently to him. Maybe it was because she was Umbaran? As a species, they tended to perceive the worlds in a different way to humans. Maybe that was why Farley sometimes found it more difficult to understand his Master?

“Keep up, young one,” Master Teller’s smooth and calm voice cut through his mind and he realised he’d been lost in thought again. “Keep your mind on what you’re doing, my Padawan.” I have told you this a thousand times. Her tone was gentle but firm. 

“Yes, Master,” Farley replied brightly as he adjusted his pack and hurried his pace to catch up. Another thought occurred to him as he reached her side, “Master…?”

“Yes?” Master Teller asked knowingly. 

“You’re Umbaran.” 

“Astute observation, Farley,” Master Teller replied dryly. 

“I mean,” he continued, “your people, your homeworld, they’re… Separatists.” 

“They are,” she replied with a sage nod. 

“Doesn’t it bother you? They are your people after all.”

“We are Jedi,” she began calmly, it was rare she ever raised her voice, though Farley could tell when she was disappointed in him. “We are more than just Separatist or Republic.” 

“But we serve the Republic,” Farley replied, confused. 

“Yes we do, but that does not mean we are the Republic,” she gestured to the path ahead, “I am Jedi. To be Jedi means the individual and the group are one and the same. We are with the Force and the Force is with us.”

“So without the Republic, the Jedi would still exist?" Farley asked, trying to get his head around it.

"Correct."

"So if the Republic were to disappear and something else -"

“A grim thought, but yes, that is the idea,” Master Teller conceded. Farley frowned. What would that even look like? A Galaxy with no Republic? He couldn’t really picture it. Though, he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to, considering his Master was always telling him to remain in the present. 

“I guess…” While he was contemplating it, his Master interrupted his distracted thoughts again. 

“What is our mission here, Farley?” the Jedi Knight asked serenely. Farley patted the strap of his pack and smiled. 

“Delivering aid to the Troopers and civilians.” He grinned, as he finally felt a part of the action. Sometimes he felt it wasn’t fair. Other Padawans like Barriss Offee and Ahsoka Tano got to go out in the field and have amazing adventures so often. He tried not to feel jealous… but sometimes, he couldn’t help it. 

Today however, he had the important task of bringing a pack full of rare herbs to a local village so that they could make a very special healing salve, one the Jedi thought lost to time. 

A small squad of Troopers were sent ahead to protect the village while he and Master Teller had been sent to collect the special herbs. The village elder was going to assist them in making the medicine and bring it back to the Temple. It wasn’t a lot of excitement, but the chance to work with some Clone Troopers and finally be able to be a Commander! That was something he’d been waiting for. 

He was going to finally be a part of the war; fighting for the Republic and stopping the Separatists! 

The teenager picked up his pace and continued along the path; his head filled with visions of glory and fighting bad guys. Yes he was a Jedi, and they weren’t supposed to have such silly little fantasies, but the Jedi were known as “Heroes of the Republic” and he wanted to be one too. 

Suddenly everything went dark. 

It was like smoke had flooded the forest. Farley couldn’t see a thing. 

“Master!” he cried. He heard the sound of a lightsaber. He could make out Master Teller’s bright green blade through the darkness. 

“Run Farley!” she implored, and though Farley did not want to, he obeyed her. He had to get to the village and deliver the medicine. 

He leapt along the path, his heart demanding that he turn back around, that he help his Master! The village was not far, if he could get help-- Another flash of green -- but it wasn’t Master Teller’s lightsaber. 

An unsettling face stared back at him, inches away and he recoiled with a start. One blue eye, one glowing green and long white braids, dressed in red and black. He knew her from the holos and from the discussions he’d overheard between Master Teller and Master Shaak Ti. 

“S-Siren…!” he gasped. The tall woman pulled back, a single long, curved knife in her hand. it had green flames flickering over the blade. 

“Padawan,” she replied, assessing him with the tilt of her head. Her voice made him shudder, there was something about the way she spoke that made the Force ripple around him. 

“You don’t scare me,” he cried, reaching for his own weapon and tossing the pack aside. “There is no fear.” The Siren's eyes never left him, but she noticed his focus on the pack.

“What is your mission out here, child?” she asked, rather calmly. Was this some trick? Master Kenobi said she was aligned with the Sith!

“Like I’d tell you anything,” he retorted, taking the defensive stance Master Teller had taught him. She let out a sigh, but her eyes tracked him like a predator. He recalled another Jedi noting something about how this Siren was not human, and the way she watched him with absolute stillness confirmed it. She was creepy. When she did move, it was fluid, almost feline, predatory. She made him feel like prey.

She was scary to look at: her scarred face, spiralling yet jagged tattoos and that steady gaze. She looked like some kind of monster from a youngling story book. Just like the kind of witch that might eat children, towering over him with her evil mismatched glare. 

“You are a child,” she hissed with a curled lip. “Why would the Jedi send children into warzones?” Clearly she was unimpressed with what she considered a lack of a challenge. Farley had enough of being toyed with, left behind and underestimated. He let out a cry as he launched himself at the witch. 

“I’ll show you what this child can do.”

----

The colours in the Force changed, right before the attack. Lights sparking in reds and yellows moments before the Jedi Knight was set upon by her unknown attacker and her physical vision went dark. She had called for her Padawan to get clear-- she was not sure of the extent of the danger, and their mission came first. The medical supplies were the most important. Farley had to get them to the village, Avona had to hold off the enemy. She was the Master. She would protect her Padawan.

The man was revealed as he launched through the now clearing smoke, Avona saw that he was Zabrak: though little of him could be seen, only a set of distinctive horns. His face was partially covered from the nose down by a cloth mask. She did not recognise the patterns in his ochre skin, but she recognised the anger in his eyes. The hatred. The colours of light that flared and faded in the Force as he moved with all the grace of a seasoned warrior. 

He struck at her with a curved blade, flaming green, the shade similar to her own lightsaber. It sliced mere inches from her pale face. Her equally pale eyes darted to him as her blade clashed against his. When it met with her saber, she couldn’t cut through it.

His movements were swift and full of rage. The colours flashed around him in lights that only she could see. Her connection to the Force was steeped in the hues of the living world: she perceived it uniquely and unlike most other Jedi. The colours warned her with a spark that allowed her to anticipate her enemy's movements.

The young Zabrak was angry, though she had no idea why, nor did she have time to think. Avona’s training ensured she stayed in the moment. But she was aware that this Zabrak was unfamiliar. 

She fought him back with swift and measured movement. He dove left, she blocked. He swung a kick to her chest, she backflipped. She waited for a break in his guard, after a flurry of strikes, and she hit back. 

He was a brilliant warrior, but unrefined. He was vicious, but untrained in the way of lightsaber combat. It did not mean he was not a strong match for her -- as she quickly realised when she saw the spark too late and was shoved back hard against a huge tree by an unseen blast of pressure. 

He could wield the Force.  Who was this warrior?

"What is it you want?" she bellowed at him. She reached out in the Force, sensing the proximity of her enemy, and her Padawan. The Zabrak before her did not speak, but his pale and almost translucent, colourless eyes glared at her. It gave away his desires.

To kill. 

She sensed her Padawan some distance away, but not nearly far enough! Had neglected to obey her instructions again?

She leapt back from the Zabrak assassin and turned, only to witness a white-haired figure, fending off Farley’s lightsaber attacks. He was in danger.

She moved to rush to his aid, but the assassin stepped into her vision, the wicked blade driving downward. Avona only just blocked it. She required focus. This warrior was no match for her in battle. She was a Jedi Knight, skilled in the art of combat. She needed to put him down quickly, so she could assist her Padawan.

She dug in her heels, and faced him, raising her blade. She charged. It was life or death -- she had to kill him. 

----

A child. 

The boy was a child! Little older than the Togruta Zaiya had met some weeks ago. It wasn’t supposed to be a child! 

Zaiya fended off the attacks from the miniature Jedi with relative ease, though he had been trained very well. Why had Feral insisted on taking on the Knight? Why had the Jedi sent out a child for this?!

There were supposed to be two Jedi but no one mentioned he was a kid! She grit her teeth and kept the younger one at bay while she tried to figure a way out. If she really focused, she could kill him rather easily, but she wasn’t trying to. Surely the Knight was enough. She could help Feral… then they could go! Just leave the human behind, he could finish whatever mission he was on. 

Maul could get mad later, but she was not planning to kill him. She was just going to keep the kid out of the way so Feral could finish his fight. A quick glance told her he was keeping his own for now, but this Jedi was clearly skilled. 

“I’d rather not kill you, kid,” she said, looking down at him. There was something in his eyes that unsettled her. Something that reminded her of someone else. 

A long time ago. 

“I won’t go down without a fight,” he replied confidently and slashed at her knees. She leapt back, circling the boy while keeping her blade high. He was feisty, and strong willed… he also had the classic streak of arrogance she had seen in many Jedi she had met. It might have been too late for him. 

“How about you put the weapon down before you hurt yourself?” she retorted and gave him a shove with the Force, knocking his legs out from under him, though she didn’t chase him, just watched him tumble. 

He leapt to his feet with a competent, yet slightly clumsy back spin, and circled around to protect the backpack he’d tossed away. 

“I won’t let you take the medicine,” he warned, slashing at her side. She twisted away, deflecting the blow. 

“I don’t have any interest in your medicine, boy,” she snorted back at him. 

“Liar. You’re a traitor to the Republic!” he growled, his mouth curling in determination. 

“Can’t be a traitor if I never believed in it in the first place,” she countered, kicking him back again, if she could at least knock his weapon away-- 

“Argh--!” She heard Feral cry out, and Zaiya was distracted, seeing Feral clutching at his arm. The boy charged; only to be met with a wave of the Force, mingled with green smoke as Zaiya leapt to the aid of her brother. 

The pale Jedi swung her blade down to deliver the killing blow -- when Zaiya’s blade blocked its target. 

“Not today, Jedi,” she hissed. The Jedi’s eyes widened, as she too recognised Zaiya. 

“The Siren…” 

Zaiya shoved her back and began to circle, while Feral stumbled to his feet behind her. 

“My reputation precedes me, I see,” the Nightsister responded grimly. 

“Master!” the boy cried, rushing forward to aid the woman. 

“Stay back, Farley,” the woman warned calmly, holding out a hand, but not looking away from Zaiya. “Take the medicine and go.” Her instructions were clear, steady. Zaiya saw no reason to interfere with Farley's orders. By the time he reached the village and alerted the Republic troops they had scouted, the Jedi would be dead. She and Feral would be gone.

The boy hesitated. After a moment turned to grab his pack and run. At least he knew when to listen.

The Jedi - an Umbaran from what Zaiya could tell - regarded the equally pale Dathomirian with narrowed eyes. 

“You are… different than I expected,” the Jedi said slowly. What was that supposed to mean?

“Sorry to disappoint,” Zaiya said sarcastically. 

“There is conflict in you.” Immediately Zaiya’s expression hardened and she curled her lip. How dare this Jedi think she knew more about her than herself! Conflict?!  

“Is there.” She spoke flatly, more a challenge than a question. 

“Where’s the other one?” Feral asked from behind her. 

“A Padawan is no test of skill, the Knight will do,” Zaiya replied sharply, leaving no room for argument. The Jedi gave her an infuriating, knowing look. 

“What is your name, Jedi?” Zaiya demanded, before Avona could speak.

“Why do we need her name? We’re just going to kill her,” Feral snarled. He blamed the Jedi for attacking his brothers, hurting them… for not saving them, or any of the other Nightbrothers. But he also held true to the Nightbrother belief of strength prevailing. For him, he had begun a challenge, and now he must win. 

“An opponent must be respected,” she told him. “We must remember the dead.” The Jedi regarded her coolly. 

“I am Jedi Knight, Avona Teller. If you are to kill me, may I at least know the names of my murderers?” she asked with a calm only a Jedi could hold. At least a Jedi would not grovel and beg for life. 

They did not fear death. Feral gave a snort behind her, he was not so in touch with the spiritual aspect of death, but he respected Zaiya enough to honour her wishes, she knew. 

“I am Feral of the Nightbrothers of Dathomir.” 

“You know my name,” Zaiya began but the Jedi Avona just looked at her. 

“I know the name you use as a title… What is your true name?” It was a bold question. No one but the family knew her name. Did it matter now? She had left Dathomir. Avona was about to die…

“Zaiya,” she said, keeping her blade in the ready position, “Zaiya Valessa, formerly of the Lu’Lupta Clan.” Her face was impassive, but a hint of amusement curled at the edge of her lips. 

“Zaiya Valessa,” Avona repeated. Zaiya grimaced, her name sounded wrong coming from this Jedi, souring the entertainment she felt at this Jedi’s presumptuousness. Still, it felt correct at least that Avona would be granted this respect. She was a worthy opponent after all. 

“Avona Teller,” she replied, “you are going to die.” She stepped back, ready to let Feral finish what he started when she heard a cry to her left. 

She saw a flash of plasma and jerked her blade up instinctively. Only to realise it was the boy. 

The Padawan. 

He gasped and sputtered, coughing up blood as his lightsaber dropped and his eyes lowered to Zaiya’s curved blade buried in his chest. 

“No,” Avona lamented and Zaiya heard the Force around them become a torrent of pain and rage and sadness. The once calm Umbaran launched at her and Zaiya could only stare at the boy with wide eyes at the end of her blade. 

What was he doing?! Why had he not fled as he was told?! 

Feral intercepted the strike meant for Zaiya, pushing the distraught Jedi back with all the fierceness of a warrior. Zaiya pushed the shock aside, the rage rising in her. 

Idiot! Foolish child! What was he thinking?! She withdrew her blade slowly, and he fell back onto the mossy ground. His brown eyes searching, his face contorted in pain. He was fading fast, but he was suffering. 

She heard a cry and leapt to one side, avoiding Avona’s blade by mere inches. The boy’s condition had to wait. 

----

No… 

Farley. 

She couldn’t let this happen. Everything moved so fast. One moment, all was calm, she was talking them down. It was just her, and the two Zabraks. Farley was safe. Why did he come back?

Avona attacked. She had to keep the panic at bay, she had to save her Padawan. The colours of the Force flared in sharp, frantic blasts. Her emotions were too raw to be fully controlled. Farley. She had to protect him.

The Nighsister was a traitor to the Republic. She had stabbed Farley. Her Padawan. A child. Her vision was filled with the clashing of green on green as the offending witch faced her. Avona let out a cry as she charged. 

She flipped back to get some distance, if she could grab him-- 

But Siren was too quick, closing in and slashing at her. Avona blocked, pushing the witch back to attack again-- 

“Ahh!” she cried out as pain bloomed across her back. The Jedi stumbled. Another cut across her arms, and her grip faltered. No. Farley. Her breath caught as she felt agony searing in her middle. The long blade of Feral’s weapon stuck out from her belly. The marked warrior and traitorous witch had bested her. She tried to reach for her weapon, but her knees gave out. 

Avona collapsed; her vision and the colours began to fade. 

As she stared at the sky, her pain began to dissipate. Her training had cushioned her fall into death, but she couldn't go. 

Not yet. 

She sensed Farley's life-force draining across from her: it wouldn't be long now, until he was ready. She was determined to wait for him, to guide him one last time. They could return to the Force together.

She reached out to him, calming, soothing. 

I'm here. Then she stretched herself across the galaxy, in the Force and the spectrum of colours. She called to her, one last time. Vibrant memories of burnt orange skin, a soft embrace. Warmth, acceptance, a lifetime of neglected touch. A vow to something bigger than them all. 

As Avona lay dying, committed to her order until the very last moment, she made her final promise, and knew that Shaak-Ti could hear her.

I will find you.

Notes: For those of you paying attention, the Jedi and Padawan are not in fact mine, but belonging to the amazing, the talented, the legendary @eloquentmoon - if you haven't checked out their stuff on tumblr or AO3 then I would offer a recommendation. Moonie is a phenomenal writer and has actually written a piece for me as a gift of Maul and Zaiya and wow, it really knocked my socks off. Check her stuff out if you have a moment.

As always I ask for comments, reblogs or the like. I love feedback, it really helps in the creative process and I very very very much appreciate any and all comments of support.

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[tired-night-owl]

Siblings

Here is a fic inspired by this adorably sad comic

Fandom : Star Wars, The Bad Batch 

Pairing : Sibling!Crosshair x Omega 

Summary : The pale haired batchers bond over a long lost memory in their dire circumstances. 

Notes : English isn't my first language so please ignore any errors of grammar or punctuation... I also tried my best with the Star Wars language of object/time/technology but I know it’s not perfect, so if you do find the actual words for what I've tried to say in this small story, feel free to comment it ! 

Words : 1351 

Her words struck him like a blaster shot. Not that he would know how much they actually hurt seeing as he was often found far away from the field, shooting clankers from a safe distance. 

« What did you say ? » Crosshair asked as if he didn’t hear her crystal clear. 

« I said, I remember when you were little » the young blonde girl repeated.

He didn’t know what to reply to that statement, he wasn’t a man of many words usually regardless. His dumbstruck expression must’ve answered for him because Omega continued her recollection of these events he couldn’t even remember. They didn’t have much to do in Hemlock’s lab anyway. Crosshair often too weak or injured to do anything else but listen to her with no strength to fight back the child’s annoying attempts to cheer him up and help him. 

« Nala Se was working on your vitals and charting your growth spurts on some fancy charts. She was busy on her data pad entering numbers and calculating wether of not your were in the normal growing standards she collected on regular clones and on the others batchers too. I guess even back then you didn’t like to be a science experiment because I’ve never heard you as fussy as that before. You kept crying and making those angry noises a baby can manage to make to express their discontentment » Omega remembered the small white haired child screaming at the top of his little lungs with a smile on her face. 

Crosshair shot her a look, softer than usual but still trying to hide any trace of humanity behind those chocolate eyes of his. He lost that act long ago, or at least it seemed like an eternity ago for him. The small clone assured him that it’d only been a month since he sent his brothers the transmission warning them of the danger that would follow. A month since Tech-

He swallowed what he though was a handful of Tatooine’s sand, turning his head so she wouldn’t see his remorse filled face and the shine glimmering in his once so useful eyes. They don’t serve much purpose in those dark grey rooms these days, neither does he. Useless in that cell and naive enough to think he was any more special in the eyes of the empire than he was for the republic. His need to climb this falling ladder cost him everything he had… He felt his face distort by all these emotions he hasn’t let himself feel up until he ended in this cursed sarlacc pit, urging him even more to hide it from the young girl beside him.

The oldest batcher carried on with her tale, staring in front of her in respect for her proud brother.

« You were so tiny, smaller than any of other baby I’ve seen before, so I held you in my arms to shush you. I was never allowed to touch the babies before so I wasn’t really sure what I was doing but you stopped as soon as you realized you weren’t on that cold table anymore. I would even dare say you looked happy for the first time ever since you came out of your growth jar » she teased the sniper in hope of calming the tense chemistry they had ever since the guards threw him in her cell. 

He didn’t flinch. Something she kept telling herself to expect to relieve any disappointment or embarrassment she might feel with all these monologues she delusionally called conversations. 

The blonde cleared her throat and picked up where she left her memories, seeing as her brother didn’t verbally express any opposition to her blabbering. 

« We didn’t have any sure way of telling what your mutation would be at the time but I figured it out when I realized you kept stirring and crying whenever Nala Se would turn on the lights of the nursery lab. So I tried holding you with one hand and putting the other on your eyelids but your sudden silent warned Mistress Se of my transgression… She took you away and placed you back into the incubation pod next to your brothers’ » 

She paused for a while, concerning Crosshair. It wasn’t in her nature to keep quiet for so long so he looked at her, urging her to continue if she wanted to. 

They looked at each other in silence until she broke the small peace they made while sharing this moment drowned deep by the horrors of war. 

« I was never allowed to go near the incubations pods again. Nala Se didn’t bring me for a while in that lab either. It was her way of punishing me I guess… » Omega frowned at the memory of her mentor stern face she kept for a couple or weeks.

« When I was finally allowed back, you had already grown into an introverted and cold toddler that formed a strong bond with your brothers. Then, the next time I came you were already off to cadet training… » 

She didn’t need to finish off the trail of events, he figured out the rest by himself. Boring medical assistant chores and maddening isolation for years until the « first time » He met her. Hours before his world drowned in the savage seas of their home planet. 

Trying to force himself to feel nothing nut anger again at the mention of his brothers and HER abandoning him behind, he found out that he couldn’t feel any of it anymore. Perhaps it was indeed the chip wearing off or that he’s finally starting to accept the fact that she Is the closest thing to a sister he’ll ever have, but no matter how deep within himself he tried to to stir up these emotions, they were nowhere to be found… 

Crosshair was never a rational man either but for the first time in his life, compassion and remorse came to him all on their own. No need for Hunter’s long and boring lectures or Wrecker’s booming voice to yell at him to do and feel the right things. Maybe he didn’t have his moral compasses anymore but the small child beside him was a reminder of what he use to have and chose to throw away. 

« Im sorry » was all he could manage to say. 

He expected her to look at him with round eyes or tease him for this action, which even HE would describe as out of character, so he looked forward not ashamed to meet her gaze. 

She didn’t poke fun though. She understood that it probably took a lot of effort for Crosshair to utter those 2 small words and wanted to respect his struggle. 

He was surprised to feel her small frame lean on him, like he imagined she does with Hunter. The sniper wasn’t much for physical contact and emotional proximity but in this moment, the small action the young girl gifted him was comforting. Probably for both of them too, he reminded himself before breaking the connection out of habit. He had to remember that, even if this rift between his brother and him might’ve started with her in a way, they all risked everything to come back for him. She lost Tech as much as he did and they were both trapped at the mercy of this lunatic together because of HIS choices. 

The grey haired man paused and took a deep breath in before offering the teenager another small piece of solace. 

« And thank you… » he whispered, just loud enough to take it off his chest and for her to hear it in the small metal room. She was just a kid in the end, much like him, she didn’t deserve to feel like the misfortunes both of them had face had anything to do with her. 

They stayed like this peacefully in the calm silence until some lab assistant came to take away either one of them for the day. That would become their own little soothing routine much like when they were younger. 

Holding each other in secret hoping it would lull the other to sleep.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- All Stars Walk Up Sawamura & more

Return to File

Recovery date: July 13th, 2024

Description:  The Daiya characters walk up to bat with their kids(s) inspired by the clip of the kbo all stars players going up to bat with their kids, liberties taken

Notes: I want to do more of these but have no idea where to start, so you can send in asks or comment with characters you'd like to see (and what kid(s) they have if you want)

Back to directory

Sawamura

Is getting his helmet on, and his son just sprints out of the dug out

He’s running after him, trying to get his helmet on with his bat under his arm

The audience and everyone else get a good laugh

Sawamura’s son is basically an exact clone of him, Miyuki and Kuramochi call it karma

He’s disappointment when he realizes he can’t bat (he was told beforehand but was not paying attention)

All is well when Sawamura bunts, bunts are so uncool

Haruichi

His kid is shy, just like him when he was young

Can’t decide if he has a son or daughter, but either way the kid is shy

He ends up carrying them out

Once he gets to the plate he manages to coax them into looking at a camera and waving

To be clear, the kid did want to participate, just got a bit scared

Once they’re off the field though they’re so excited to tell their other parent about the experience

Furuya

His daughter almost doesn’t participate

But Sawamura and Haruichi’s kids are participating so she goes too

Ends up really enjoying it, it’s a small thing but getting to join her dad at work is nice

Furuya is a bit nervous and he has no idea why, it’s just the public eye– he’s not a big fan

But the big grin on her face as they walk up together and her words of encouragement make it all worth it

He hits a run on the first ball

Kuramochi

Anticipates his daughter trying to run ahead, grabs her by the back of her jersey before she can get out of the dugout

Once he’s got his helmet on he races her to the plate, he definitely doesn’t let her win

The catcher makes a joking comment about him not being in top form today and it’ll be easy to strike him out

His daughter claims he’ll get a run

He doesn’t get a run, but he does get on base

Miyuki

I think this man deserves double trouble, he’s got twins, a boy and girl

He lets them help him get ready, they hand him his gloves and hold his bat while he puts his helmet on

The bat almost becomes a sword for a sibling spat, his helmet knocks his glasses off when he reaches to grab it from them

It becomes a parenting meme (“when you hear your kids say '___’ ”)

He tucks his bat under his arm and holds one of their hands in each of his

Miyuki hitting with empty bases?! These kids work miracles

[irisarchborn]

Entry for @far-side-skies art challenge, this month we were assigned the splendid sunbird and I had some fun with the colors..may have used the purples a bit too much but i regent nothing XD This was from a stomhawks next gen thing I thought up of years ago and never went into much detail for any the characters in it XD

~info~

Name: Ozul Nickname: Oz Age: 16 Height: 5.8" Race: Human/Bird experiment (no feathers yet)/Clone of the Dark Ace (doesn't know that yet) Gender: Hermaphrodite Sexuality: Unsure Home Terra: Farside - New Cyclonia Region Skills: Sky-fu, basic sky and ground combat, Crystal mage trainee

~Story~ When the floating terra of cyclonia fell and Master Cyclonis fled through the portal, she fled with a few loyalist but one wasn't among them ..the champion known as the dark ace was gone.

Being the Impatient women she is Cyclonis ordered Nikolai to get to work on bring back the dark ace. With not much of a lab set up this annoyed the scientist, but rather then risking his masters wrath he did as ordered and began the long process of cloning. Years later after a few failures, little Oz was the one that survived into his first stages of life, but as he grew his body wasn't holding up as it should have given the lack of Dark Ace's DNA to help build it back up Nikolai had to use what he had on hand, which was the DNA's of a bird and the masters to stabilize the boy. Around the time Oz turned five he was wondering around the farside boarder between when he bumped into a young Shang Akagiyama of Terra Kistune royal family, the two boys grew to bond and this gave Cyclonis the idea to use him as a pawn to get an alliance with the Kitaran. This then made her take the boy under her wing and removing him from Nikolai's care.

Growing up Ozul slowly learned just what type of person his mother was and what happened when she was made upset or disappointed. The burns on his left arm will be a permanent reminder of those lessons. Weirdly enough all Oz wishes if for her love and approval and thinks her coldness and harsh punishments are merely an act she puts on, to showcase her standing as ruler of New Cyclonia, so he pushes himself to study, train and practice in hopes of achieving that.

Having Shang for a friend definitely made Ozul feel less alone, hell the Kitaran was his first and only best friend, his mother forbid him from ever leaving the palace, not truly caring about his needs at all and just wanting a weapon to keep by her side, In the early morning on his sixteenth birthday Shang got him to sneak out and took him to Atmos. One glace of the sky and clouds, was all it took and Oz fell love with it, the duo continued this habit of sneaking over to the other side and not wanting to get caught Nikolai had a special outfit created for Ozul (he caught Oz sneaking back in one night but kept it hush hush) that would hide his identity; the armor on it would react to his crystal binding abilities and actually amplify them by a small percentage, thanks to the metal it was forged out of.

-

Wow that was a lot to type, hope it wasn't too allover the place XD

[facepalming-since-chernobyl]

A summary of why CW Supergirl sucks, born from a year of a growing frustration.

A summary of why CW Supergirl sucks, born from a year of growing frustration.

1.Inabilty to take a risk.

The only one they took was making Alex lesbian and Nia the first trans hero story. Then – fucking nothing. Good characters going dark? Not even Kara’s clone aka RedDaughter. Lobotomizer, who you know, murdered Adam, Lex and wanted to lobotomize entire humanity and hurt Kara “every way imaginable”, all of it was portrayed as “not her fault, blinded by feelings, dark place blah blah”, basically it was all Lex and Kara’s fault, no consequences for her character or arc.

There was nothing controversial, or when it was something like that (aka Lena murdering and lobotomizing people) it showed as something not that important, normal stuff, solved in one ep, no biggie, she was sad, ok???

I was also not even ONCE afraid for the main bunch of the characters. I was fucking SURE no one was going to die and yes, only addictions, villains, one ep randoms or secondary characters I didn’t give a shit about, died. That means there was basically no feelings, even during emotional scenes, what made this show super bland and in the end, forgettable.

-Plus, they knew they got the final season, they knew they could have done anything they wanted. And what they did was making Kara taking her glasses off. If this doesn’t fully describe what kind of shit this show was, then I’m Santa.

Basically WASTED POTENTIAL.

2.Degenaration of the main character.

Yep, sorry not sorry, as much as I love Kara and Melissa, who was born to play Supergirl and did everything even with the crappiest of lines, her character, looking at it from the perspective of 6 seasons, SUCKS for a few reasons:

-What made her unique in the comics, was ignored and forgotten in the show. She was made a female clone of Superman, that was treated badly by the writers. She got similar job, attitude, love interests, his villains.

What she didn’t get was satisfying conclusion (sarcasm).

In comics she was the outsider, the person torn between two places, an immigrant remembering her old life and forced to assimilate in a society of some C class planet, a girl with anger issues, bias, the guilt of being a lone survivor, a traumatized young alien. Something she couldn’t share even with her last living relative aka Clark. It all made her fleshed and complex.

But show ignored it, and made her a happy go lucky, fully assimilated perfect usamerican girl in love with humanity, uwu. What is disappointing, even if this Kara still has charm, innocence and potential - it all makes her boring in the end.

-There is no real character development for her after s1 and 2. She started as fresh hero who tried to manage her superhero, private and work life, while working on her biases. And then, dunno, we got Kara dealing with an every ep villain/issue and some other big season bad. How Kara’s as a character changed? She got more confident in her professional life as a reporter (still, a shitty one) and that’s it. All the traumas, bad shit that happened, deaths, problems, issues, lost love etc. I don’t really feel it all has changed her. I don’t even feel she is more mature in s6 than she was at the end of s2. I don’t feel anything that has happened during the whole series, changed her views, opinions, way of life. When her past experiences helped her later? She stays almost the same for the whole fucking SIX YEARS.

-It happened, because there is no real character arcs for her after s2.

In s3 there was the whole Reign aka her nemesis storyline and finding Argo and her mom, but what was the POINT of it? Beside that Kara realized she didn’t want to be krypotnian and didn’t really give a fuck about her mother, friends and people anymore…? And I still didn’t really grasp it, because the show made a shit way to explain why she didn’t feel at Argo as at in home anymore (because Earth was in danger and needed help? Because she couldn’t be Supergirl at Argo? Because…? Uhm?).

The same goes for s4, 5 and 6. What was the reason of Lobotomizer torturing and hurting Kara every way imaginable and Kara calling her a villain, if a few eps later Kara ended on the same place aka being Lena’s bestie without hard feelings, any consequences or fucking anything? What kind of impact Kara being in Phantom Zone made on her?  Fucking one ep, where she can cry in Alex’s arms and then, once again, NOTHING.

-The lack of satisfying conclusion (sarcasm again) for Kara. At the end, I have no idea what did she want, what did she dream on, what was her goal, why she couldn’t have it all, while she wanted it years ago and ALL OTHER CHARACTERS GOT IT. Basically, I don’t know why I should be happy for her, why should I root for her, in the end, I feel like I don’t even know her after six years. What is… fucking sad.

3.Heart and soul of the show. My ASS.

There is no Supergirl without Kara. It can survive without any other character, but NOT without her. And because, as I said, her character development/arc SUCK, we have a sucking show. And sorry not sorry if I upset people, but it happened because the show focused too much on other SuperFriends and other characters. Yes, Alex included. Because no, Kara and Alex are not the heart and soul of the show. Kara should have been. And I don’t get the blind, sometimes fanatical love for this relationship. It’s quite obvious it’s one of the most important relationships in the show. Still, a shocker, show would survive without it. Plus, it’s quite funny, how some people ignore the fact (confirmed by canon TWO TIMES) that for Alex more important than Kara was ALWAYS Jeremiah. Even when he was already dead. Fucking hilarious.

Anyway, my point is that even J’onn and his father got more compelling and emotional arc than Kara ever got and friendly reminder SHE GOT HER FUCKING PARENTS BACK. The same goes for Alex and Esme and Kelly. Damned Agent Liberty had a better written arc than Kara. Damn, Nxy had more compelling story arc and character development than Kara in s6. And it’s tragic.

Remind yourself when was the last time you were really invested in Kara’s story?

4.Fuck you, comic books.

I have no idea how people who actually read Supergirl’s comic books and others issues felt while watching. Kara being dumbed down (plus all the shit I have talked about). J’onn depowered. Brainiac being DUMBED DOWN and parody of himself. Mon-El depowered and in s3 cured from his allergy, zombied, bearded and forced into marriage with fucking Imra. Imra with weird powers. Garth who??? Death of Nura Nal (off screen), murdered by Brainiac. Manchester United and Agent Liberty wasted and turned into well, not anything too complex. Maggie – what? Lex – no comments, especially after how he ended.

And unfortunately, I feel that all of the original comic book characters suffered for the additions created by the show, aka Alex, Lena, Nia, Kelly. Like, you can feel they were the producers and writers “babies” and they did everything to made them cool and interesting (what ended with some weird stuff like Lobotomizer being a magical unicorn and Nia got some… weird powers. Whatever).

5.Creators hated this show, you can’t change my mind.

The fact Jessica Gossip Girl and Robert had NO FUCKING idea what to do with Kara or this show after s3 and the AK drama, is obvious. The sad fact is that the writers didn’t know what to do either. I feel like after AK, no one wanted to be associated with this show, the old writers left the show and we got bunch of new-in-the-business-folks who didn’t even care to watch past seasons.

In the end, it was quite obvious that all people involved were done with this show and just wanted out, cast included. And remembering what also the supercorp shippers have done, I can’t really blame them. Still, there was no love for this show in the creators room and it’s sad when you compare it to the shows that was leaded by producers/writers/actors who were fans themselves.

6.The show is already outdated. Focusing on so called modern problems made it forgettable and bland, when you compare it to other shows.

Yes, I talk about the Trump presidential plot in s4. Also, the whole immigration plot were so heavily, cheesy and dumbly handled, made no sense and was something we saw hundreds of times in other fiction (and it was handled 100 times better). Andrea’s alternative reality device that sucked people in it? Any Black Mirror ep about stuff like that was better and more memorable. I already don’t even remember why the device was so deadly. Technology bad? Oh, boy.

Also, I KNOW comic books were always connected to the political stuff, but you can handle it in a good and bad way. Supergirl made it usually cringy.

See how stereotypically they portrayed the president in s4. It was not even bad enough to become funny. The whole Kaznia part was nothing more than a xenophobic, stereotypical approach to Eastern Europe. Remember when J’onn said he keeps his black man appearance because he wanted to be… minority or something? Guess what? He became a black man because HANK HANSHAW WAS A BLACK MAN. There was nothing DEEP in it for fuck’s sake! M’gann? So, a white Martian who… pretends to be a green one and then keeps that, because… you know… there are better and worse Martians. Or something. You know, greens good, white bad and ugly.

Then, they did a good job with Nia’s trans-superhero story. And then, with Kelly, I see what they wanted to show, but it was a bad timing and well, all what she wanted to express was overshadowed by that one, line about Kara not getting what trauma is. The list goes on.

7. Luthors.

Cancer of the show. Sue me.

8.It’s so fucking dumb.

We all know that this show is about an alien who because of fucking sun became superpowered, can fly, wears idiotic suit and can’t be recognized because of glasses. We all get the conception. We get it. We know it’s for kids…

But there is a difference between following the worldbuilding and making shit so fucking dumb you roll your eyes so hard that you see the insides of your skull. The show treats the viewers like IDIOTS who don’t remember a shit that happened previous ep.

The… jewels or whatever it was called, that they tried to gather in s6. Not getting the idea of time travel. J’onn erasing the knowledge of Kara being Supergirl from Alex and like 10 max DEO agents, while all fucking DEO knew that, because Kara was constantly walking around as Kara Danvers in s2 and 3. And J’onn suddenly, out of nowhere refusing to read people’s minds, but being ok with changing people’s minds, but not informing that oopsie doopsie, he can’t change them back? And what was the fucking reason in the end? Writers want to tell me, that’s it more logical to change memories of Alex and TEN other people, than brainwashing ONE colonel??? Like? And the scene when Alex finally remembers, while Kara is dying after the fight with RedDaughter and her way to save her is… putting grass on her? I’m sorry? It was supposed to be emotional but I died from laughter? It was so fucking dumb that it erased cells from my brain??

And  don’t even let me start about Kara absorbing WHOLE SUN in 10 minutes because Jesus Fucking Christ people actually died watching this scene. Like, yeah, erasing sun, what bad could happen to Earth without it even for a few days. Like yeah, Kara, a living being ABSORBING FUCKING SUN. In like a few minutes. Do you know how fast the sun rays come from Sun to Earth? Probably you do, SG writers don’t. And then, she just what, farted?  And all what she absorbed came back to sun in a second? Uhmmmmmmmmmmmm…

And let’s ignore, like we ignored so many other shit, how many times Kara and other super beings totally forgot they had, ya know, superpowers, because plot needed it.

It’s all so goddamned dumb that is not even funny. And what’s worse, the show is not funny, the jokes are pathetic, it’s like watching your drunken uncle on a family gathering.

9.Contradictions, hypocrisy, blah blah blah

Do you remember how everybody was moaning how Kara is the strongest, the best, the strongest, the most unique, the strongest, the most amazing unicorn in Earth’s history? You could create a drinking game in s2 finale aka taking a shot when you heard something like that, hangover guaranteed.

It’s the whole show’s problem. Exposition and explaining instead of actually showing it in the show. They talk. All the time. Explaining everything. And then you get something contradicting.

Like how Danvers sisters are the best sisters, buddies, blah blah blah. And then we get aggressive Alex pouring her life frustrations on Kara (job, Jeremiah, Esme). And what is funny, we never really did them sitting down and really discussing it, and it’s a show about talking. I mean, of course, they would die for each other without a second of hesitation, but all people talk about are the couch scenes sniff! Sniff!, while happily ignoring the co-dependency problem.

10.Fucking fandom

Let me just say that I have a theory that says if the show is shitty and there is nothing beside the ships you can be excited about, the fandom turns into an utter ocean of crap. And maybe it would have  been not that bad, if the fandom hadn’t changed my perspective on some actress and basically made my SG experience a living hell.

If you have anything to add – be my guest ==’

[jayjaymorgan]

The Senator of the Forsaken - Part 4

Author’s Note : Please remember that English isn't my native language, so there might be some mistakes and stuff. A shout out to Space Bird for doing the beta read, I really appreciate it! I hope you all like it, have a great day/night!

TW : none

As the days passed, Rex slowly started to realize just how important yet difficult the senator’s job was.

He attended meetings with him, though all he did was stand in the corner of the room or next to the door, keeping an eye out for any suspicious behavior or changes in their environments. Said meetings could sometimes last hours, as Skywalker tried to convince his fellow politicians to vote on his bill, only to hear ‘I’ll think about it’ in response. Then, he had to say his goodbyes, with a calm look on his face, to hide the sadness and disappointment, before walking out and letting his shoulder drop in visible defeat. Rex refrained from saying anything, mainly because he didn’t know what he possibly could to cheer the man up. From his very little knowledge about politics, in order for a bill to pass it required the majority of the votes and so far, most of the other senators were unsure or decided to abstain. Said voting was to happen in a few weeks time, to give everyone the time they needed to make their decisions, and Anakin was hard at work to get all the support he could get, arranging meetings, writing speeches and keeping track of all the people who promised him their support. Rex would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy his job, beside strict schedule and long meetings, that would sometimes last well into the night, he felt quite happy with it. Sure, there were ups and downs, when someone looked at him weirdly or spat a snarky comment behind his back, but that didn’t really matter now. He found Skywalker’s company pleasant, as the said senator had a way to charm those around him, with his jokes and cheerful, sometimes even playful behavior in between the meetings. He was respectful to those around him, no matter who they were, a droid, a guard, a bartender or a clone trooper...

He was different than other senators, that was for sure.

…

As the blond man sat down in the empty cafeteria, his thoughts went back to his brothers. From what he knew, everyone was alive and well, slowly pushing back the Separatists out of the Outer Rim. He couldn’t help but miss them. All of them. Not just his brothers and sisters, but also the Jedi generals and the young padawan. Hell, he even missed the kriffing clankers! Oh, what he would give to hit one right now... He felt quite lonely, as he hasn’t made any friends, not even with his bunkmates, whom he shared his room with. He was the first to wake up and the last to return, so he didn’t really have the opportunity to chat and get to know any of them. Plus, he was kind of unsure, maybe even scared. He didn’t know how they would react to him, so he tried to stay out of their way. He knew how clones were treated by the Senate Guard, as he had an opportunity to talk with Fox a few times during his stay here. The older clone told him to keep his head low and to try avoid problems, and he did just that. He finished eating and continued his daily walk to the senator’s apartment, quickly making his way to the top floor. With some relief he noticed that the view through the window no longer had such an effect on him, so he paused for a minute, his eyes scanning the city. From up here, the city residents looked like ants, as they walked through the labyrinth of various shops, restaurants and bars. They were so small compared to the skyscrapers, it made Rex wonder if any of them were haunted by the thought of being insignificant when looking around. The universe was nearly infinite, with stars and planets older that the time itself... He shook his head, letting out a sigh. He decided not to dwell on the very existence of life, as it would distract him from his duties. Speaking of duties, the senator hasn’t come out yet. It surprised the clone, as the man was always on time. At nine am sharp he would open the door and greet Rex with a smile, engaging in some small talk and such. It was a tradition of some sort, meeting in the doorway at the same time, every day. He waited for a minute longer before knocking on the door. Maybe Skywalker overslept, he thought, but then he heard glass shattering from inside the apartment, followed by loud voices. Acting on pure instinct, he grabbed his blasters and opened the door, guns raised, ready to shot potential intruders or assassins. To his surprise, he didn’t see a group of armed men, but the senator himself, standing over a broken glass of wine, looking at him with a mixture of surprise and fear. Next to him was Padmé, starring at the clone from her spot on the couch. “The Force, you scared me!” Skywalker exclaimed, putting a hand over his heart. “Is everything okay? Did something happen?” Rex slowly lowered his weapons, unsure of what he should do. The senators were fine, yet there he was, barging in like a madman, guns blazing. “I apologize, senators.” he said, trying to hide his embarrassment. “I heard the crash and you weren’t answering the door...” He put away his blasters, averting their gaze as he shifted towards the door. “I’ll leave you to it...” Before he could reach the door, Amidala stopped him by inviting him to sit down next to her, with a warm smile on her face. “Please, stay, Rex.” she said, scooting over so he could sit down. “Would you like some wine?” “Padmé, its 9 am.” Anakin said, a cheeky smirk on his face. “Isn’t it just a tad too early for that?” “Oh shush, you simpleton!” she shot back, pretending to be angry. “You’re the one leaving for vacation, while I have to stay here and take care of everything.” She huffed angrily as the man laughed in response, shaking his head before focusing on the cluttered coffee table. Rex watched the two as they bickered, before looking around the room. It was his first time here, inside the senator’s apartment. He only caught a glimpse of it, but now he could finally take a better look at it. It appeared as they were in some sort of a living room, spacious yet cozy, with an inviting atmosphere that was both elegant and rustic. The beige walls were adorned with paintings and carvings of dragons and stars, overlooking at the people gathered in the room with big, golden eyes. A massive bookshelf lined one wall of the room, filled to the brim with books on various subjects, from science and technology to philosophy, history and art. A few small, wooden statues served as bookends, so they wouldn’t fall over upon removing a tome. A bench made of sturdy and polished sandstone, that served as the coffee table, had a unique scene carved in the countertop : a group of people, standing under the twin suns, dancing around a horned, serpent-like creature that was emerging from the sand. It was coiled in the center of the carving, its scales intricately detailed, with its eyes seemingly alive. Rex could feel its gaze on him, even though he knew that the creature wasn’t real. Two comfortable armchairs, made from polished driftwood and covered with beige cushions, sat across from them, on the other side of the bench. Both had a symbol of a sun stitched into the cushions, with  golden twine and hints of silver. The couch Rex was sitting on was a comfortable one, made from leather. It had a rich, caramel color, the leather slightly distressed but well maintained, showing the years of use. In the center of the room was a circular rug, soft and plush, made of rich wool, with a subtle pattern that tied the room together. The main color of the mat was a slightly sandy brown that matched the other pieces of the furniture. The pattern on the rug consisted of intertwined dragons and sunbursts, woven in shades of gold, copper and rust. The details were so precise that one could feel the texture of each scale and the warmth of rays of the sunbursts. Suddenly, Rex was snapped back to reality by Padmé, who gently nudged his shoulder to get his attention. “More wine?” she inquired, motioning to his now empty glass. “Thank you, senator, but I shouldn’t.” he responded with a smile. “Can’t drink on duty. Speaking of which, what’s going on?” “Ani’s going to Tatooine.” she responded. “Vacation.” “For the last time, it’s not a vacation.” Anakin shot back while folding some clothes and throwing them on the bench. “I need to be there for the podracing, to fulfill my senatorial duties? I have a reputation to uphold, you know that.” She hummed in response as he walked away, heading to one of the neighboring rooms for the rest of his things. Rex’s gaze accompanied him to the door, before turning his eyes back to the sandstone bench. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” “Yes.” he responded, glancing back at his companion. “But, what’s the scene about it? The serpent and the people around it?” “Anakin loves this bench. He uses it as a conversation starter.” she leaned forward and brushed away the mess that obscured the carving. “This is Nyoka Huru, the great serpent of Tatooine. A symbol of good fortune, believed to emerge from the sand when the planet was in need of a divine intervention. Its arrival promised rains after a drought, flourishing crops and clear skies during the night for stargazing.” Rex nodded his head, listening with amazement as she explained the meaning behind the carving. “Amazing.” he said quietly, once she finished talking. “But, isn’t Tatooine a crime infested planet? How come it has such beautiful culture and history?” “That’s the sad part.” Padmé said, letting out a sigh. “Tatooine was once controlled by the Hutts and a handful of other gangs. They forced their own beliefs of violence, money and slavery onto the people, as they couldn’t fight back. All of this had to go underground, hidden away in attics, to serve as a reminder of what the planet was like before. When Anakin took over, the people of Tatooine no longer had to live in fear of the oppressors. They could go back to their old ways, focus on art, dance, stars...” She once again sighed, her expression sad and tired. “The people love him for that. For giving them their freedom back. But, some don’t. Powerful people, who made profit off of slavery and crime, want him gone.” she glanced at the man sitting next to her, her eyes watery. “Promise me you’ll keep him safe. I know that he feels safe there, on Tatooine, but evil never sleeps.” Rex could only nod in response as she wiped her eyes, a gesture that said all she needed to know. 

I will.

[spell-cleaver]

Au where Cylo gets ahold of a young luke and eager to have a force sensitive, he experiments on him, moulding him to become one of his "creations." All the while he knows who exactly he is. Eventually, when Vader eventually come across Cylo and his creations, he is suprised how one of them holds his own against him and that the boy is force sensitive. (Angst, drama and good old "how dare you touch my son" Ensues )

Whumptober No. 4 DEAD ON YOUR FEET Hidden Injury | Waking Up Disoriented | Can’t Pass Out

Read it on AO3 or on FFN instead!

Cylo's final, secret lair was almost insultingly easy to get into—at least, Vader had thought so before something had clocked him on the head, and he'd woken up in an entirely new area. The laboratory hidden behind a row of dingy offices in the depths of Coruscant apparently went even deeper into the planet's unknown depths than he had anticipated, if the massive transparisteel wall was anything to go by.

It was the first thing he saw when his eyes peeled open, even before he noticed the warnings blaring in his lenses about his suit being compromised, some blunt trauma done to the chest box. He could feel it in his heart: the pacemaker was erratic, his heart spasming painfully without its steady presence. His strength would be in question for the fight ahead, then.

But the transparisteel wall was a window onto a deep grey lake. He'd heard rumours that the toxic sludge of Coruscant dribbled down into what had once been the planet's freshwater reserves, creating a poisonous, radioactive cocktail many kilometres beneath the vaunted starscrapers, with only a few brutal, twisted creatures managing to survive such a hellish environment. Even as a Jedi he had never gone deep enough to see it for himself. Now, it appeared he was below it.

Something swam past the window. Something massive.

"Lord Vader," Cylo's clipped, condescending voice rang out. "You are persistent, aren't you? You have already killed so many of my children."

"Your creations were hardly a challenge." Vader hauled himself to his feet, reaching for his lightsaber—but it wasn't at his side. "I am here to end you."

"Again?" He sounded tired, but in a mockingly false way.

"I know this is where you keep your clones. I will destroy you, then I will destroy them."

"What makes you so certain I have no other secret foundries, sequestered across the galaxy?"

"I have found them," Vader informed him. "And I have destroyed them. None of the pitiful guards you posted there could have stopped me."

Cylo sighed. "The death of the Astarte twins was disappointing. Them, in particular, I had high hopes for."

"They did not have the Force. Whatever effort they provided was pathetic."

"The Force is obsolete. Technology is the future. Have you heard of Grand Moff Tarkin's Project Stardust? That is the weapon that will keep the galaxy in check—my creations are designed to serve alongside it, not against it."

Vader scoffed, but took Cylo's preposterous chattiness and used it to scan the rest of the room he was being held in. It was definitely a laboratory, but that was confined to the edges, with work benches and observation rooms littered around the rim of the floor. The floor itself… it looked like a training or sparring room, shaped in a semicircle that ended at the transparisteel wall. "The Death Star is a myopic travesty. It is insignificant compared to the power—"

"Perhaps." Cylo smiled, then stepped back into one of the observation rooms. A shield flickered into place before him. "Your prowess over my other creations has been persuasive. But there is still much to be done to the Force. It can be improved."

"You blaspheme—"

"Luke," Cylo said. "Take your revenge."

Warning almost flashed too late. Vader spun around and barely missed being skewered by a figure who leapt at him out of nowhere—from one of the benches, the rooms, he didn't know. The person who had ambushed him when he was approaching the entrance. A trembling teenager, slight and underfed, his muscles trembling on his thin frame like jogans in a sack.

But more importantly, he had Vader's lightsaber.

The boy landed with a roll right where Vader had been and didn't waste time spinning around to stalk towards him again, teeth bared. Vader backed away, his painful heart palpitating in a way that made his flesh tremble, but his hands were not flesh. He reached one out—

But his lightsaber did not fly towards him. There was another tug, an opposing tug, and it stayed firmly in the boy's grip.

Then the boy—Luke—raised his hand and fire blared to life.

Fire was the nightmare of a Force-user. Too unpredictable to control, too intangible to deflect, impossible to block with a lightsaber. It caught his cloak and raced upwards; Vader stamped it out, almost tripping, but the Force caught him and put him back on his feet.

The boy swung again, and this time, inches from Vader's torso, the lightsaber switched off and tumbled into Vader's hand.

"I had thought I killed all the Astartes," he mused. They had been the ones with rocket boosters in their feet and flamethrowers in their hands. "Triplets?"

"No," the boy—Luke—spat back. "I'm not an Astarte. You killed my father."

Vader levelled his lightsaber at the boy's throat. He could tell why Cylo had kept this one cloistered here, instead of sending him out to meet Vader before. There was little point in fighting such a talentless wretch. "That is what I do."

Luke screamed, the incandescent rage trapped in his slight form igniting like a mushroom cloud. Before Vader could skewer him, he threw up a hand and a rack of weapons slid out of the wall. He ran for it, grabbed something, and pivoted to face Vader again. A magna staff settled in his hand; it blocked Vader's blow smoothly, with the punch of a charging bantha.

That strength could not have come from him. He was small, malnourished. And the pike—

"You are Force-sensitive," Vader observed, twisting his lightsaber out of the lock and stalking around him in circles. Luke turned to keep him in sight.

"The Emperor was always proud of you, Vader," Cylo said. "An unholy blend of magic and technology."

Luke was patiently waiting for his creator to finish rambling, so Vader took the initiative. He drove his lightsaber towards his head; only Luke's Force-enhanced skills kept his brains inside his skull, as he caught the blow and spun out of the way. He stared at Vader, panting, and lunged at him—

"But you have ultimately been a disappointment."

The boy was a decent, by-the-book duellist, but other than the passive uses he employed, he did not touch the Force. His rocket boosters took him over Vader; Vader slashed with the same move Obi-Wan had dismembered him with so many years ago, just missing the brat as he zoomed out of the way. His fire kept Vader at a distance that served him well, as a smaller and faster target who did poorly in close range against Vader's awesome strength. But he was beaten back, and back, and back, unable to read Vader, anticipate his moves, truly use the power that tingled in his muscles.

Pathetic.

This was the type of Force user that a heretic such as Cylo would raise. He should not have expected more. Was this what Palpatine would have him replaced by?

Vader swerved to avoid a stab of the staff, but electricity still crackled against the fabric of his half-burnt cape. The motion jerked something inside him; it shot through him to his heart, his pacemaker, which suddenly stumbled. A tight agony speared his chest, but he kept a handle on it, watching Luke's reaction. There was nothing in his face to indicate he knew that he had almost struck a killing blow by sheer luck.

His heart was still a staccato thrum, the muscles yanking around his prosthetics pained and starving, but he swung to meet the boy's next blow. He was still on the retreat. Vader would still win, kill this wretch, and—

"Imagine a servant for the Emperor with your raw power and technological advancements who won't die at the push of a button?"

Before Vader could react to that, his limbs ceased working.

He hit the floor, frozen on his knees. His lightsaber rolled away. His pacemaker, working so, so hard, collapsed altogether, and silence spread through his chest. The rasp of his respirator vanished, and the hearing aids in his ears; a tinny quiet spread through his helmet. He felt like he had been thrown into that toxic lake outside, the silent water choking awareness away.

He heard Cylo distantly, his words ringing the Force like a bell.

"There, Luke. I told you there was nothing to fear."

The boy was circling his still form, magna staff crackling idly. The light stretched and elongated at the corners of Vader's lenses as he went around, and around, and around. "He could have killed me. Would have."

"He was not strong enough to."

"He was. If you hadn't—"

"But I did. Now, revenge for your father is yours to take."

Luke stopped right in front of Vader, poising his staff ready to strike. He looked uncertain. He looked incredibly young, especially with the thin wires Vader could now see in his face, his wrists, bulging like veins under his skin. Was there a kill switch in his suit, too?

"It doesn't seem right," he said. Foolish boy. Weak, sentimental boy. Vader felt through the Force but couldn't grasp it, not quite in possession of himself. He could feel Cylo's glee, the boy's guilt and fury, his own impending doom. His heart, stagnant, as the rest of his organic body began to rot without oxygen.

Perhaps this was it, after all. He despised the idea of validating Cylo, but the Force was not helping him in the face of this technological terror. The death trap they had made of his body, born of his own arrogance, would defeat him.

After several long moments of waiting, Cylo walked out of his observation room. He calmly put a hand on Luke's shoulder; Luke turned his face towards him instantly, like a child to its father, seeking reassurance.

Cylo backhanded him. Luke fell to his knees alongside Vader, naked wires gleaming amongst the blood on his face.

"He is dying anyway," Cylo informed him. "If you do not kill him, his own body will. And your father will never have justice." There was a soft, terrible glee in how he coaxed Luke with those last words; they worked. Luke sucked in a long breath and steadied his shoulders.

He picked up his staff again. "Yes, master," he said, and turned to Vader. "This is for my father."

It sounded almost like an apology to himself.

He raised the staff. Vader could not move his eyes, but he watched that pitiful boy's face as he teetered with his weakness.

Then, his mouth set. "This is for Anakin Skywalker," he said, and plunged the magna staff into Vader's chest panel.

Cylo laughed—"Excellent!"—but it faded into white noise. Vader keeled backwards. He landed on his side, staring out at the ancient mess beyond the great window, watching white-bellied shadows swirl through it.

His suit wasn't just silent, now: it was shutting down. The destroyed panel sent nonsensical signals coursing through his limbs, his head; his helmet flashed warnings, brighter and brighter, until they abruptly cut off.

So much background noise cut out. Peace was an alien concept for a Sith, and it was disturbing to be exposed to it, even in death. The background chatter of signals, noises, lights, information streaming through him… it vanished. Replaced by…

The Force.

He closed his eyes. Luke, his son, sparkled above him, proud and distraught, held in the warm, manipulative arms of the man who had raised him so cruelly. Cylo himself was a dim light in a blinding galaxy. Even the monsters who roamed the toxic deeps were brighter than him. Him, and his many, many clones, stored in racks and racks above and below them, their hearts beating as one.

Vader's heart wasn't beating at all.

"You are the last one left," Cylo informed Luke silkily. "You are the Emperor's new apprentice."

Luke was his replacement. In every sense of the word—in power, in prosthetics, in position. He would receive all that his father did. And Vader had tried to kill him.

Palpatine would try to kill him, too. In so many ways. He would toy with him, test him, and discard him whenever he felt like it. There was nothing Vader could do to stop it.

That thought was unacceptable.

The Force was his ally. It was, despite doubts, despite betrayals, despite pain, the most powerful ally he had. It wrapped around him in his final moments, bringing him the fabled Jedi peace, but he did not want peace. He wanted justice.

His heart, slow and painful, began to beat. His lungs, slow and painful, began to expand.

He could not live without his suit. That was undeniable. But his suit was his, and he was the Force, and no one else would control it.

The wires in the control panel twitched, under the sheer force of his will. His limbs reconnected with his nerves, whirring to life. The display in his mask flashed, blinding as the suns. No matter. He did not need to see.

He stood.

Cylo turned, a hand on Luke's shoulder. His mouth dropped open in slack-jawed horror as Vader rose, a behemoth from the deeps, his cape sagging off his shoulders. He took a step back, but Luke did not move, frozen.

"You wish to avenge your father, Luke Skywalker?" he boomed, louder than he'd known his vocoder could go.

Luke flinched. "You—"

"I," Vader said, "am your father."

Passive, untrained use of the Force or not: Luke could not ignore the thunderous bells of truth that rang through his bones.

Cylo stumbled back farther. "He lies, Luke," he said. "That is what Vader does. See? He cannot even be put down; like these radioactive beasts outside, he refuses to die—"

Vader lifted his groaning up. Cylo's neck flew into his fist. He squeezed.

"Luke!" Cylo shouted. "Luke, save—"

His neck cracked. Vader threw him aside and stared at his son. Luke stared back, wide-eyed. An eternity passed between them.

Vader said, "You—"

That eternity had been too long.

"Luke."

Vader looked up. Cylo's respawned clone stood on the mezzanine level above them, still dripping in fluid and gruesomely naked. He glared at Vader, but his eyes searched the room.

"Flee," Cylo ordered. Luke stared up at him, starting to hyperventilate. "Flee, before he kills you. I will meet you—"

Vader yanked this Cylo towards him as well. He slammed him into the floor, screaming, scrambling away as Vader lit his lightsaber.

"Luke!" Cylo shouted. "Do something! He will kill—"

"My son need do nothing for you," Vader told him, stalking ever closer, "ever again."

"Luke!"

Luke shook his head. "Is it true?" he demanded. "Is he my father!?"

Vader paused at the devastation in his voice, turning to look at him. He looked ready to vomit.

"I am your creator," Cylo told him. "I persuaded the Emperor to spare your life, I trained you, I gave you all the power you enjoy. He is nothing to you. The only father you have ever known is me."

"You have not shown him," Vader hissed, "a fraction of the power he wields."

"Then let him decide!" Cylo shrieked. "Luke, if you care for this beast and his lies over me, I give you the honour of killing me. If not, flee. We will recover from this."

Vader smirked behind his mask. Cylo would not recover from this. Whatever Luke chose, there would be no safe haven in the galaxy for either of them, ever again.

He stepped back, nonetheless, so that Luke could claim this honour for himself.

Luke looked from Vader to Cylo and back again.

He was so frightened. Vader took a fragment of that peace that had been foisted on him and wrapped it around his son, piercing it with his roaring desire to protect. Luke's eyes began to water.

"Is it true?" he asked again. But Cylo would not give him an answer.

He reached for his magna staff then hesitated. Cast it away, where it hit the floor, sparking. Vader tensed. Then Luke raised his hands. "Father," he said. "Run."

The transparisteel wall began to creak and groan.

"Run," Luke said again, and this time Vader obeyed. He scooped Luke up first—his arms fell to his sides as if he'd been holding up the sky—and sprinted for the exit as cracks spiderwebbed across the transparisteel wall behind them. Great tugs in the Force saw those irradiated beasts come sniffing the drama in the water, as the window cracked—and cracked—and cracked—

The roar of water crashed against the turbolift doors just as they closed, and the lift shot to the surface. Vader clung to Luke as he bent over double and hurled, splattering the controls with bile. He used his cape to wipe it away from Luke's mouth.

The toxic waters flooded the laboratory far below them. They brought a new type of death for each Cylo clone: drowning, poisoning, being eaten alive. But their heartbeats continued to thump in perfect synchrony until they petered out, one by one by one.

[gwendolyn-of-loxley]

N7month Day 2: Arcade

    Hearing gunfire ring out in the stadium, Urdnot Wrex couldn’t help but smile wide as he walked into the arena lobby.  At the moment, the combat field was occupied by a group of asari commandos on shore leave; they’d managed to secure a position against simulated geth troops.  The old krogan made no effort to hide his disapproval, huffing in disappointment.  Sure, such tactics would have been effective against the synthetics of a few years ago, but the Armax simulations were constantly updated, and soon they were going to be overrun by the newer pyro units if they didn’t take at least some focus off of ranged combat.  Oh well.  They had to learn somehow. 

    Strolling up to a kiosk, Wrex quickly validated his member’s ticket that Shepard had gifted him not long ago.  While the forces of Tuchanka needed leadership, Wrex had led companies of troops long enough to prioritize a clear mind and a healthy body, so he’d decided to stick around for a few days after the whole clone business had been taken care of.  It’d be nice to practice with some of the simulated weapons that weren’t always available to him out on the frontline.  That N7 Typhoon (courtesy of Shepard’s pass privileges) was looking delightfully heavy. 

    Before he could head down to the locker rooms, a very familiar crest passed through his periphery, and he couldn’t help but notice the young ‘un.  Grunt had done excellently in Clan Urdnot ever since his rites, and his rescue of the rachni queen was no small feat.  Most krogan didn’t see action like that across centuries, especially not so young.  

    Wrex wanted to say hello.  

    Fortunately, Grunt saw the elder as he approached.  The battlemaster-to-be was still a bit jittery when surprised, a development that had formed after he’d encountered indoctrinated rachni young.  Wrex couldn’t exactly blame him.  In fact, it occurred to the clan-head that such an instinct would serve Grunt well if honed properly.  A lot of adult krogan had gotten themselves killed while under the delusion that centuries of natural body armor made them invincible.  It did not.  

    “Grunt,” he opened.  “A pleasant surprise.  Are you watching, or waiting to try the arena?”

    “I’m watching,” Grunt said.  He turned away from Wrex, but continued to speak.  “For now.  I wanted to get a feel for the different fields before I got myself a place in line.  If people are watching, I want them to know what Urdnot can really do.”

    Trying not to stare, Wrex was impressed.  There were not many occasions when Grunt expressed something resembling humility.  It gave him an idea.  

    “Well, you know what they say about statistics,” Wrex said.  A smug smile found its way on his lips.  “You’ve got to have a big enough sample size.”  

    Grunt turned back to look at him.  After a moment of processing his elder’s words, the krogan laughed, low and deep, a melody full of mischief.  

    The pair had decided to enact their display of murderous enthusiasm on the “Wingman” map; neither had too much experience on the arena floor, and it was the most frequently used map in the set, being freely available to both casual players and professional athletes.  They’d spent about a half-hour watching matches, memorizing potential spawn points and discussing cover options.  Grunt had attempted to call dibs on the Claymore shotgun, with Wrex attempting to pull superior rank as his clan leader.  In the end, they’d decided to make a competition out of it, seeing who could get more kills with the same gun.  

    When the speakers chimed, the two Tuchankan sons rushed forward with incredible zeal.

    The first batch of enemies spawned to the left of their starting point, down on the lower level of the setup.  Grunt rushed straight for them, vaulting over the rail of the balcony to close the distance between the two.  Wrex couldn’t help but shake his head, hearing the runt roar as he charged.  The leader of clan Urdnot strode forward, approaching the ramp, seconds from intercepting one of the simulated Reaper husks.  With a casual hipfire of his Claymore, Wrex’s lips curled into a satisfied smile while mass-propelled rounds ripped through hostile data.  The sound of his approach drew the attention of some of the enemies who had been focused on Grunt, and Wrex planted his feet, happily gunning down the crowd of human husks that tried to rush him.  The high-powered shot cut them down with ease, giving Wrex a moment of relaxation while Grunt wrestled the marauder he’d rushed to the ground.  The youthful krogan managed to get a shot off, looking up at his smug clan leader with obvious frustration.  Wrex shrugged, the announcer notifying them that the round had ended.  

    By the time the next round started, the pair had replaced their thermal clips, now set against each other.  With the next wave spawning back onto the upper level, the krogan duo found themselves backtracking.  Wrex hated backtracking; there was always a feeling that no matter where you turned, the enemy had somehow gotten behind you.  It was a problem for both hardened veterans as well as rookies, though some were able to shrug it off.  “Some,” apparently, included Grunt, who continued to rush forward, but did so at a more cautious pace.  Marauder after marauder fell to boom after boom, their shields thinner than upper-atmosphere compared to the stopping power of the Claymore.  Wrex huffed, swallowing his anxiety for the sake of a higher killcount.  

    By the time his thick krogan legs brought him to the fray, he’d managed to give the “wippersnapper” (human word, but he liked it) enough of a head start to catch up to him.  Again, he was impressed; the kid worked fast.  In fact, Wrex was so impressed that he didn’t notice the brute sneaking around to his side.  Air shot out of his four longs as the thing used its massive claw to swipe him into the railing of the upper level.  Not one to be distracted by a surprise attack, Wrex let the railing take some of his weight, promptly raising his shotgun and firing.  The virtual skull burst open before the digital corpse discorporated, and the wave pulled to a close.  Thunderous laughter came from the younger Urdnot, drawing a glare from the crimson krogan.

    Stretching their necks and rolling their shoulders, the duo readied themselves for the final wave of adversaries.  Charging down the main stairwell, the krogan were met by a squad of marauders and a trio of brutes.  Grinning at the prospect of the impending carnage, Wrex employed one of his stimulant packs, delighting at the sensation of feeling 300 years younger.  With the brutes taking their sweet time, the marauders were dropped fairly quickly, blue swirls of holographic feedback lighting up against the screen-born sunset of the arena.  It would have been fairly trivial to outlast the brutes if a terrible scream hadn’t filled the air.  

    Wrex ducked behind a corner as a burst of blue light soared across the field, colliding with Grunt and dropping him to the ground.  The chilling visage of a banshee hissed at the krogan contestants, floating in the air with a menacing form of biotic power.  Seeing that Grunt was still getting up off the ground (standing up was not the strong-suit of the krogan), the wicked simulacrum charged the young Urdnot.  

    Realistically, Wrex knew there was no danger.  It was a game, and while the hardlight nature of the simulation could rough someone up, it would be truly impressive to kill someone, especially a krogan.  But Wrex didn’t really care, because in a real fight, you don’t hesitate to help your clan.  You don’t hesitate to throw out the competition when the galaxy is at stake.  

    Before the banshee could reach Grunt, a shot rang through the air, a smoking Executioner pistol in Wrex’s hand.  The banshee dissolved before it could hit the ground. 

    “That one doesn’t count,” Grunt said, standing to his feet.  “Different weapon.”

    “Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome, Junior.  Now help me kill these things.”

    Turning his attention to the brutes, Grunt loaded another round from his thermal clip and stalked forward.  The brute closest to him growled, preparing to pounce, but recoiled in pain when Wrex threw out a biotic carnage charge, lighting it in a burst of flame.  After downing it with another shotgun blast, Grunt dropped his gun, letting it clatter to the ground.  Reaching behind his back, he pulled out a pair of grenades, tossing them underneath the second brute, detonating into its chest.  Wrex fired off another round from the Executioner pistol, finishing off the combatant, and threw it off to his side.  Together, the krogan let out their own roars, charging the final brute, hands empty and bare.  

    It didn’t stand a chance.