#i have concerns about the design. all of it

[brazenautomaton]

are you talking about breeder reactors exclusively or about nuclear in general

breeder reactors with current tech aren't enough but they also make more fuel than they spend, which you use in standard nuclear reactors, which very much can meet all our power needs. France is at about 75% nuclear power right now, IIRC. Traditional nuclear is enough to meet all our needs; breeder reactors aren't there yet but are a fantastic supplement and a reason that running out is not a concern. Did you look up the ALARA standard?

I said that IF they just dumped the waste in a U-Stor-It there would still be less total radiation. They're not going to do that. They have nuclear waste disposal sites and techniques, and nuclear waste is not giant barrels of glowing Simpsons sludge. Because the waste loses radioactivity over time (that's how half-life works) you need to store it somewhere radiation-shielded for a while until it cools off, and that radiation shielding can be "a swimming pool." Water is such an effective insulator against radiation that you actually can swim in a pool storing spent fuel rods and be fine. If you stay on the other side, obviously. They keep it in a pool of water for 20 years or so, vitrify it into glass, and dispose of it in a special underground dump site. The dump site at Yucca Mountain is the "this is not a place of honor" place you may have heard of, is so ridiculously concerned with long-term safety it's been designed to warn people of its danger if civilization utterly collapses. It's also, as far as I can tell, the only site we have that is dumpable because look at that we won't build more. (Spent fuel is also recyclable but we're not doing that either but I don't know as much about why.)

"What if the disposal site leaks though?" yes the chances of a failure of containment or disposal are never zero but the harm of radioactive material leaking is equal to or less than leaks of any number of other toxic industrial byproducts that we don't require nearly this level of scrutiny on. The level of danger of ANYTHING is never zero but there is a danger level that we consider acceptably "safe" for everything in the world except nuclear power. Nuclear waste disposal sites don't go "next to" where people live, except that a nuclear waste disposal site has to be some quantifiable distance away from human habitation, and literally whatever distance that is gets considered as "next to."

it would be kind of based if our renewable energy woes were just immediately solved by building a functioning fusion reactor. like all this philosophical hand-wringing about the consequences of our overconsumption, about the need to eschew our worldly possessions and live smaller, simpler lives more in tune with our food and our material goods and where they come from. how climate change is a wake up call to shun the vulgar decadence of modernity and embrace a more humble, soulful way of living. and then it's just like no lmao we solved it with a machine. sorry you spend all that time contemplating the human condition but what we actually needed was a new machine. sorry lmao. there's pretty much free energy forever now don't even worry about.

[frogchiro]

farm hybrids RE are sooo fun i am OBSESSED

atp I'm waiting for leon and jack to fuck each other already

Oh you bet they are nonnie!

As far as Jack is concerned both you and Leon are his mates, end of story. He is fiercely protective of both his kittygirl and the dogboy and does not tolerate any bullshit or strangers in his territory, especially if that something sniffs around his precious mates.

The three of you have your designated nest where you sleep, Jack always falling asleep last to make sure that you are safe at night, even if you're all inside the house, he still won't take any chances.

However the thing is- Krauser is an asshole. The older hybrid absolutely will use his power and authority over you, and especially Leon since he's supposed to train the insufferable rookie. He's much larger, heavier, stronger and more experienced than Leon and he will use that against him during playfights, training, when Leon decided to give him lip or when the brat decides to do a pow-wow and has the genius idea to try and mount Krauser.

'Stupid young knot-headed brat' is what Jack growls whenever Leon decides to be cocky and make advances on him. Don't get him wrong, the blonde loves it when you or Leon give him those pretty watery eyes and you bend over and present yourselves so so sweetly for him, all nice, submissive and willing to get mounted and bred by a strong male. But if Leon wants to be a shithead led by hormones and his knot then so be it. Let him try.

Before the poor labrador hybrid knows it he's down on his hands and knees, his chest pressed into the ground with Jack right on top of him, his large cock fucking into the younger man without abandon, his fat knot catching on Leon's hope as Leon whines and moans his head off, nooo this was supposed to got differently :((

He was supposed to finally mount and dominate Krauser, show the larger hybrid that he's the dominant one and now he's the one getting stuffed and pupped :((

And the worst part is that you're there and watching! It was supposed to be Leon showing off to you and instead it ended up with you lazily laying all pretty and purring while Jack fucks Leon until he can barely string words together, the older snarling above him about a 'insolent, hormonal pup' :(

[copperbadge]

hey sam, totally understand if you don't want to get into this, but i'm curious how you interpret your tarot reading for the year in light of the election results?

So, I have two replies to this, but I do want to say despite responding that I really I appreciate the permission not to respond. Especially because this is going to be a form of non-response, but only because of extenuating circumstances. I know that I'm never required to respond to an ask, but I always feel bad if I don't, so it's helpful to know the asker understands.

First -- I could go back and look at the reading and look at the world and see what there is to be seen, but...that's fun when it's like "Oh, the reading predicted Dracula Daily, how interesting". It's not really as fun when we're talking about deeply unsettling and dangerous political events. And I'm not sure I'm in a headspace for it, being honest. The reading itself feels like it aged poorly, although some of its advice is still sound.

Second, and honestly to me more relevant, is the fact that I've found this specific spread is not really ideal for this purpose. As a personal reading, Four Royal Advisors seems fine, especially if you're trying to just take a vague look at the future rather than predict the course of a coming year. When I've tried doing the "new year's" reading for the coming year, it always seemed to stall out in autumn and not cover the full year. So I don't know if it would have any particular insight after Halloween in any case.

On the plus, I do have a new reading that is specifically designed to be a "coming year" reading and to cover the full year, so hopefully this month and certainly before New Year's I'll be debuting that and trying it for next year. I'm a little concerned about what it might tell us, but I think we're all rather concerned for the future, so that feels normal.

[smallnico]

i'm literally so flattered by this. i wish i'd come up with a more thought-out argument so i could properly fight your student. i can do the counterargument now if you'd like.

i'm not scared of generative ai. i'm genuinely concerned for the impact it'll have on the neurological development of young people if they become overexposed to the instant gratification of "bringing their ideas to life" and never practice or develop the skills and labour actually associated with creating something from nothing. it means that if the ai gives you dogshit (and it will), you don't have the ability to fix it, because you're so alienated from the process of creating (writing an essay, drawing a picture, organizing a playlist, composing a song, listening to and analyzing and summarizing the art you're examining) that you don't know what isn't working or how to make it work correctly. if you don't learn how to analyze, if you don't train your brain to do these things, they don't stop needing to be done. you will be dependant on ai, or on others to do these things for you. others, you can sometimes trust, but it really helps to be able to really grok the difference between a grifter, an ignorant person, and a person who knows what they're talking about -- and again, the more you alienate yourself from the construction of their arguments, the less you are able to take them apart and see what isn't adding up. and ai is dogshit, frequently incorrect and incapable of doing the small calculus the human brain can do (if you train it to) to tell the difference between quality of sources and reliability of data, so it should never be trusted, period.

the only part of this "new technology" that i'm scared of is based on a history of ideas that i have actually studied. historically, the more we alienate ourselves from the process of labour, the less we are able to grasp it as a reality, and the more people are able to use that fact to exploit us. if you look at, say, the paper coffee cup on your desk, really look at it. where did that come from? it didn't spring fully formed from someone's imagination. someone had to design the shape of that cup, engineer it so it could contain a hot beverage and keep it hot, come up with the sleeve to make sure the drinker could actually hold it, but there's even more to it than that. someone had to make the cup. someone had to source the paper (or the compound) for the body, the material for the lid, the glue that holds it together. someone had to harvest those materials, in whichever country they were sourced, and someone had to package them and transport them to the company responsible for assembling the cup. someone designed the logo and the pattern on the outside, and someone is monitoring the machine that prints those images on the cup. someone will be responsible for picking up the waste and transporting it to a recycling plant, or to the landfill where it'll end up. let's not even start on the drink inside it. farming, harvesting, shipping, receiving, assembling, serving. it takes time to manifest something, and you are in a position of immense privilege to not have to think about where it all comes from on a regular basis. but what happens when the supply lines get shut down? what happens when there's a failure of irrigation or something in the paper mill and the glue holding the paper together doesn't work? do you know? i don't, personally. but there is someone along the line whose job it is to know, and i appreciate the work they (probably aren't paid enough to) do so that i can grab a coffee on my way into my own work. i have to appreciate it because i know that if the process goes wrong somewhere, i have no fucking idea what to do about the problem.

but i'm not pretending to know. i'm not applying for a job at the papermill to work for pennies instead of someone who does know the perfect chemical makeup of coffee cup cardboard because i can order a ton of coffee cups online from amazon in bulk. that's why generative ai offends me. the work that goes into creating art and writing still has to be done, because all generative ai knows how to do is steal, and it doesn't steal like an artist. artists look at the works of others and think, oh, i see how they did that, i want to try doing that, and then they can, because they learned how to appreciate the process. they've actually worked, and practiced, and spent time engaging with the process step by step to create something they find pleasing. generative ai looks at art and spits out a copy by comparing one image to another and assuming based on Uncredited Data that sometimes, pictures have hands in them, and hands sort of look like this. and the computer doesn't have a goddamn clue how many fingers the hand has, or how to translate that data into a visual. you know what does? the human brain. you know what you can do instead of bemoaning that you, a high school junior, can't produce a rembrandt on your first try? you can actually try drawing something.

you can actually try to turn your ideas into a drawing. you can do research into how to make it look the way you want it to. who knows? you might actually have fun doing it. because the creative process can be fun! it isn't for everyone, but unless you actually sit down and try, you won't find out, and if it's not for you, you'll never grasp on that physical experiential level that the creative process is actually a lot of fucking work, and we should respect artists for being able to sit down and do it so we don't have to, same as we respect the farmers who grow our food or the plant workers who mix the slurry that becomes our coffee cup cardboard.

i'm not scared of spotify for pushing ai bullshit down my throat. more than anything, i'm kind of offended, because i do put a lot of work into my playlists, and i have a lot of fun doing it, because i like listening to music and analyzing lyrics and relating the themes of songs to my little characters. i took it so personally because i Want to be involved in the process. i'm paying spotify a lot of my real adult money to have access to music and the tools i can use to entertain this pastime of mine, and it's kind of fucked up that they're raising their monthly fee to fund a tool that makes me, the user of their product, motivated to use their product less. insulting, even. why should i pay more for a computer to do a worse job than me at Having Fun? making a playlist isn't even that fucking hard.

i'm just tired. stuff takes work to make. it takes care and time and effort to create something from nothing, and a lot of the time, the process is necessary to make the thing good, because it forces you to take the time you need to spot and fix mistakes. i hope by now that it's self-explanatory why i don't want an entire society run by a dipshit program that doesn't know how to do what it's doing and doesn't know how to solve the problems it creates faster than human hands could ever manage, and i hope the dipshit machine and the grifters who push it are inextricable from each other in the minds of anyone who's read this whole post. i don't want them to run society either, because they Know that generative ai sucks and can't do anything right, and they're still trying to tack it on to everything to devalue the labour of artists and make a quick buck for themselves.

the best quote i've ever seen about generative ai is "why should i bother reading something nobody bothered to write".

we are a social species. alienation from labour alienates us from each other, from our communities, and makes us feel alone. when we're alone, we're vulnerable down to our core psychology, and there are a lot of people out there who know better who want to take advantage of vulnerable people to manipulate society at large. they want to make money off of your suffering. they want to reduce you to a number for their own convenience so they can use the One Life You Have On Earth to play their own personal tycoon game and get a slightly higher score. they want you to spend less time having fun, creating art, spending time with your family, thinking about what they're Doing to you, so you don't ruin their good time. i'm not scared because it's new, i'm pissed because it's the same old late capitalist shit i've already been dealing with, and i'm sick of seeing it everywhere because it stands a very real chance of turning everyone's brains to even more detached-from-reality mush than late-stage capitalism already has already.

And, on top of all of that, spotify's algorithm sucks shit already, so why on earth would i want it to make my playlists for me. the other day i saw it put zombie by the cranberries on a halloween playlist. she doesn't know dickety shit about my ideas or vibes or anything. so

no, spotify, i don't want to use ai to "turn my ideas into playlists". i already fucking do that with my brain and hands and i do it for fun. what, should i get ai to pet my cat for me? to play my silly games for me? to spend time with my beautiful wife for me? how about i rend you asunder

[anon-e-miss]

Broken Vows - 8

“‘M gonna go look at habs for ya when ya have a rest,” Jazz told Prowl. He avoided the glyph nap which seemed a little mocking to him. As his frame continued to integrate the delicate repairs and with a fragile self-respair systems, Prowl ran out of energy quickly and recharged off and on throughout the mega-cycle.

“Perhaps you might like to take Smokescreen with you?” Prowl offered. “He would benefit from fresh air.”

“Are ya sure?” Jazz asked.

“I trust you,” Prowl said.

“What about you and Blue?” Smokescreen asked.

“We need more rest than you, Bravespark,” Prowl told him. “I know it is not terribly fun for you when we recharge. There is a fine playground in the park your progenitor and I used to walk in.”

“I’d love to,” Jazz said. “What do ya say, Smokey?”

“Okay!”

“I’ll give ya a list o’ favourites,” Jazz offered Prowl. Prowl just shook his helm.

“I trust you and Smokescreen to select it,” he said. “You know how little I concerned myself with my habsuite.”

“A’ight,” Jazz said. “We’ll do our best.”

Smokescreen was nervous, Jazz knew. His genitor was nervous too. Jazz held Smokescreen’s servo in a firm grip as they walked down the hall and made their way to the tram that would drop them off at the metro. It was faster to drive, of course but Jazz was too nervous to drive Smokescreen and the mechling was far too young to drive on his own. Smokescreen would not have wheels of his own until he was a youngling. Sooner or later, Jazz would give him a ride somewhere but Smokescreen had already gotten lost once on his watch and he was not going to risk getting in a crash with him on their first trip off base. The media were all gone, having been chased off by the Primal Vanguard after Prime had given his speech. That did not mean there might not be opportunists who would sneak a quick shot but Jazz had a plan for that.

“I want ya to wear this,” Jazz told Smokescreen as he magnetized a small device to the collar of his armour.

“What’s it for?” Smokescreen asked.

“If anyone tries to take a picture o’ ya, this’ll scramble it,” Jazz told him. “I know yer ori don’t want yer face all o’er the news.”

“It was the same in Praxus,” Smokescreen said. “He didn’t want me in portraits. He didn’t want Blue either but he wasn’t allowed to say no.”

“‘M sorry yer Ori had to make that choice,” Jazz told him. “I’m sorry I bout’m in that spot.”

“Origin loves you,” Smokescreen said. “And it makes him sad. It always made him sad.”

“He’s got good reason, Sweetspark,” Jazz told him. “I broke his spark. I did it on purpose.”

“You were sick,” Smokescreen defended him and Jazz ruffled his helm. After everything Jazz had said and done, Prowl had excused him to their creation. It was a kindness Jazz did not think he deserved.

“Don’t make the damage any easier to live with, Bitlet,” he said.

“Hmm,” Smokescreen took a seat in the window and Jazz sat next to him. “You feel bad about it.”

“Sure do,” Jazz told him. “I didn’t know I’d kindled ya wit Prowl until I saw yer designation next to his on the casualties list. Even when I was better, I was too scared to face your Ori, even the memories o‘m so I didn’t read his letters, ‘n I lied to myself ‘bout how bad I’d behaved. I didn’t want to remember how bad I’d been. When I saw yer designation I had to face what a monster I’d been. I didn’t think I deserved to mourn ya, either o’ ya. But I needed to. I still carry the ultrasound photos he sent me.”

“Really?” Smokescreen asked. Jazz showed him the ultrasound. “I was just a blob.”

“We all start out that way.”

Jazz knew Smokescreen hoped his procreators would get back together and raise him and his brother together. It was something Jazz was a bit too scared to hope for himself. He loved Prowl dearly. With all the clarity in the world now, Jazz did not shy from this truth. The reality was, however he had hurt Prowl terribly and he had driven him away, laying the groundwork for the direction the Praxian’s life had taken. Every awful thing that had happened after could be placed at Jazz’s peds. At some point, if Prowl ever wanted to hear it, Jazz would like to apologize probably, to make sure he knew that Jazz took responsibility, that he had no excuses for everything he had said and done. He could not ask for a chance to be better for Prowl, for Smokescreen and for Bluestreak. Jazz would have to be better and to let the chips fall however they might.

“I know Origin’s originator and grandcreators were afts,” Smokescreen said. “What about yours? Origin never told me about them.”

“That’s ‘cause I never told’m,” Jazz explained. “My genitors were split-spark twins. They died in a riot in Polyhex ‘n losin’em broke my Ori ’n made ‘m go mad... sorta like I did, I guess. Me ‘n my brother, my twin split up... blamin’ different mecha for what happened. I know they’re alive but that’s all I know.”

“You got better,” Smokescreen said. “I bet he will too.”

Counterpunch had sent Jazz another of his rants that light-cycle. As always, it made no sense. There was no threat to Jazz in particular or the Autobots in general. It was just random glyphs, not even in sentences but almost just splattered across the page. Because Counterpunch did not know he had creations, because Punch had always considered his family to be his and not his alter’s, that he even had the code to the commlink Jazz had only ever shared with his family was still a bit unnerving. Talk of a mechanical spark and grinding gears, even when Jazz read it together with the other notes he had received lately, he found no meaning in it. He wondered if Ricochet got notes like these. His twin would never tell him. Ricochet had blamed Sentinel Prime for the deaths of their progenitors and the madness of their originator, in hindsight Jazz understood why. Ricochet did not forgive Jazz lending is allegiance to that prime as Jazz had blamed terrorists who had worn the Decepticon brand. Whether Ricochet called himself a Decepticon or freelanced, as had been the family business, Jazz did not know. He had not spoken to his twin in millenia and had not laid optics on him for even longer.

“This is our stop,” Jazz took Smokescreen servo and led him down the escalator and out onto the street.

It was just around the corner from Mirror’s, nearer than even Prowl’s old hab and been and a short walk to the park. There were other habsuite on his list to look at but if this one was even close to as good as the ad had suggested, he thought it would be perfect. Smokescreen, of course, would be the one to cast the deciding vote. The property manager shook Smokescreen’s servo after he shook Jazz’s and that was a point in his favour. There were lots of families in the building, or so said the manager and that was a point for the building. No one had lived in the habsuite for a while so it was a completely blank slate. Imagining how it might be set up was not a problem to Jazz. He laughed as Smokescreen ran about, checking every room. The mechling definitely needed sometime in the park to release some energy.

“This room for Origin, because it has a pretty view,” Smokescreen pulled Jazz along for a tour. “This room’s for Blue because its right next door. This rooms for me and this rooms for my grandori and uncle when they come to visit.”

“He’s so sweet,” the property manager said. “And so well behaved.”

“His Ori gets all the credit,” Jazz replied.

“Origin’s going to love it,” Smokescreen declared as they left, key card stored in Jazz’s subspace. As Jazz was an officer in the Autobot Corp, the property manager was quick to sign the habsuite over to Jazz, even having never met the principle tenant. Security was good, it would be better when Jazz added encryptions to the lock. Smokescreen had picked a good room for Prowl, it had a few of the park. He would love it.

“He’ll love that ya picked it for’m,” Jazz said. “How ‘bout we go to the park now ‘n ya can run ‘round like a wild mechanimal?”

“Okay!”

“And who is this?” Jazz jumped. The voice was husky. He knew without looking that it belonged to a wispy femme about his originator’s age.

“Dipole!” Jazz exclaimed. He had met her when she had returned from burying her progenitor. The funds that had seen her get there had been stolen and Prowl had hunted the thief down and returned them too her.

“I’m Smokescreen, Ms Dipole!”

“You look just like your Origin, doin’t you?” Dipole said. “Mirror mentioned you stopped by, to pick up a peace offering. Than she saw the news and she’s been as close to a wreck as I’ve ever seen her.”

“Mirror makes the yummy rust sticks, right?” Smokescreen asked.

“That’s right,” the femme replied.

“Prowl’s got some more healin’ to do but he’ll visit soon,” Jazz promised.

“Mirror always thought of Prowl as something of an adoptive grandcreation,” Dipole said. “What with him being all but orphaned.”

“Can we say hi?” Smokescreen asked.

“Uh...” Jazz thought on it. “I don’t want to take the wind outta yer Ori’s sails, Bravespark.”

“Eh?”

“I thought yer Ori outta be the one to introduce ya to Mirror,” Jazz said.

“He won’t mind,” Smokescreen said. “Especially if we bring more rust sticks. And... if Ms Mirror is worried about Origin, she’ll feel better and Origin’ll feel better knowing she’s not worrying anymore.”

“He is very clever,” Dipole said.

“All credit goes to his Ori,” Jazz replied. “Okay, we’ll say hi to Mirror.”

“They were really buried for vorns?” Dipole asked, softly as they headed to the bakery.

“Yeah,” Jazz replied.

“Mirror wouldn’t look at the casualty list,” Dipole explained. “After he said goodbye, she always figured he’d come back. She said he belonged here and not in Praxus but... well he never came back and then Praxus was gone. She didn’t want to know because if she didn’t know than she could imagine he was well, wherever he was.”

“I promise he’s okay now,” Jazz said. “He thought Smokey outta get out ‘n get some exercise while ‘m ‘n the bitty rest more.”

“It’ll be good to see him,” Dipole said. “He was always one of Mirror’s favourites.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Dimensional Crossroads: Martha (Batfamily Chronicles Series)

Context: Portals from a mysterious source have been opening up around the world. Recently, Jason made the mistake of falling through one, along with a version of himself that didn’t die horribly. But it doesn’t stop there. In another dimension, Martha Wayne survived the robbery, while her husband and son fell victim to the mugger. In her world, her Robins are called Doves—comprised of Kate Kane, Beth Kane, Barbara Gordon, and Stephanie Brown. Martha has been through a lot: dealing with creepy stalkers, facing a Joker-like Selina Kyle, and burying her grief. Now, she and Bruce are about to be surprised to see each other, even if they aren’t their versions.

Batwoman, aka Martha Wayne, landed effortlessly from the portal above, her feet touching down silently. She smiled, feeling satisfied with her graceful entrance.

Batwoman!Martha (age unknown): I still got it.

She surveyed her unfamiliar surroundings, taken aback by the array of heroes and villains that surrounded her, but she steeled her focus.

Batwoman!Martha: Hm, Giovanni mentioned I’d land in places different from my own. But this place is really something… a gender-swapped version of my world?

She groaned after using that word, realizing it was a term Barbara had recently become obsessed with as she delved into fan culture. Barbara had been sharing all sorts of things with her, and "gender swap" popped up frequently in those discussions.

Batwoman!Martha: I’ve been around Barbara for too long if I’m referencing her.

With a sigh, Batwoman retrieved a device given to her by her version of Oracle, designed for navigating these dimensions. It blinked with data about her new environment.

Batwoman!Martha (fascinated): Huh, I was somewhat right. This place has a… Batman? Where is he? I hope he’s not my husband, driven mad by some dark fate… I can’t deal with that again.

As she hummed to herself, Batwoman wandered through the chaos until she spotted a man in a blue-and-black spandex suit and a young blonde woman in a purple spandex outfit. She then stepped forward to the figure of Batman, who was assessing the pandemonium before him. She tapped his shoulder gently.

Batman turned around and saw the strange woman in a batsuit that closely resembled his own.

Batwoman!Martha: Oh my... God.

Martha instinctively covered her mouth in shock. Behind the cowl and suit, she recognized him—her Bruce, now all grown up.

Batwoman!Martha (whispering): You’re here and… alive?

Batman (monotone): I’m assuming I died in your dimension. Are you my cousin, Kate? If so, I hope you’re not as aggravating. And please, don’t be a stalker.

Martha sniffled as her tough exterior began to crumble, and she pulled him into a warm embrace. Nightwing and Spoiler exchanged shocked glances, concern etched on their faces. Batman, on the other hand, was bewildered by the sudden hug.

Batman: Ma’am, whoever you are, let go.

Spoiler (shouting): Yeah, he’s not a hugger!

Batman (annoyed): Spoiler!

Spoiler (shrugging): You’re not!

Martha’s eyes widened in realization, and she quickly pulled away, embarrassed by how she must have looked to these strangers... with the exception of Bruce.

Batwoman!Martha: Oh dear, sorry! I’m making assumptions, young man.

Batman (in his 40s): Young man?

Nightwing: Ha, he's old as hell!

Batman groaned, covering his eyes in annoyance. Batwoman, still in shock, could only smile at the potential adult version of her son. She had so many questions but knew she couldn't reveal them in a public area where people were running around in a frenzy.

Batwoman!Martha: I mean, uh… adult man. You are an adult man! Tax filing age. Nice suit, very well made. It’s loud here. How about you and I—just us—head to your Batcave to discuss all this?

Batman (suspicious): Um, sure, but in a few minutes. I need to handle this situation first before it escalates.

Batwoman!Martha: Oh, right! I almost forgot the intensity of what we’re facing. I admire your focus on the task at hand. Mind if I lend a hand?

Batman (confused): Sure. If you’re a version of me, I assume you’re a hero.

Batwoman!Martha (pulling out a sleek red and black gun): All right! Let me get my proper weapon—Batgun. Who should I aim for?

Batman swiped the gun from her grasp, walking away while gesturing for Martha to follow.

Batman: I don’t know what the rules are in your dimension, but here, I don’t use guns and I don’t kill. I hope you can respect that while you’re here.

Batwoman!Martha: Oh, of course... of course.

Batwoman!Martha (in her head): Poor Brucie must have been traumatized after losing… me. Is Thomas alive? I’ll ask about him later. For now, I can fight alongside my son!

Batwoman!Martha (speaking out loud): Lead the way, sonny, and we can catch up afterward.

Batman (finding her odd): Honestly, you’re very strange to me right now and I'm not sure what catching up means in this context.

Batwoman!Martha: Oh, don’t worry! You’ll understand at the Batcave.

Batman rolled his eyes, still unaware of the true identity of this version of Batwoman. All he wanted was to resolve the chaos of the night.

To be continued...

[legacygirlingreen]

Something About You || Captain Rex x OFC (Mae Killough)

Pairing: Captain Rex X Original Female Character (Mae Killough); mentions of @leenathegreengirl's PabuVerse characters!

Word Count: 8,800

Warnings: Mention of troubled past (think Henry the 8th vibes honestly). Tooth rotting fluff honestly - they are so freaking cheeky and sweet its painful at times.

AN: Hi friends! Part Two of Rex & Mae's story is finally out! I have already started working on a part three, but for now, I recommend going back and reading part one if you haven't. If you have, full steam ahead! Massive shout out to my dear friend @leenathegreengirl for her amazing art featured in the cover and the full image at the end! Seriously, I cannot thank you enough for bringing them to life! Linked below is Part 1, as well as bit more info on Mae! Anyway without further ado...

PART 1 || Mae Bio || Mae Q&A || PART 3 (coming soon....)

Masterlist

Shimmering, translucent waters stood in stark contrast to the stormy, eerie oceans of Kamino. Rex had never understood why anyone would choose to spend time by the sea until he followed the others down to the beach. The warm, sandy shores, cool shade from swaying trees, and pristine waters that caressed his skin were indulgences he hadn’t known he craved.

Initially, he had donned a pair of stretchy shorts tossed his way by Hunter, only to appease Omega. She had appeared at dawn, eager to reveal the island's delights. Rex found it hard to refuse her, especially since her hair shared his distinctive hue, a welcome departure from the standard brown of the Fett genome.

As he and Omega led the way, the path through the trees opened up to a breathtaking vista. The refreshing scent of salt lingered in the air, waves lapped peacefully against the shore, and birds called to one another. Flowers crowned the bushes lining the treeline, and the warmth of the sand beckoned. Amidst it all, a figure glided gracefully over the waves.

Rex was captivated, the sunlight dancing off the water and illuminating porcelain skin. He barely noticed Omega cup her hands around her mouth, her voice ringing out as she called, “Mae!”

Startled, the figure with damp red hair turned toward them, waving before diving into the water. Rex’s heart raced for a moment until he spotted her head reemerging, breaking the surface with a splash.

“Isn’t it amazing? The locals call it surfing. Mae’s been trying to teach me, but it’s harder than it looks,” Omega chimed in, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Rex could only manage a small nod before following her into the sunlit paradise.

As Rex helped set down the box of assorted items he had been given before their journey, he focused on arranging the space according to Omega's enthusiastic instructions. He laid out a few blankets on the sand, turned the crate upside down to create a makeshift table, and propped up some tarps for shade. She had even designated a hammock in the trees for her grumpy brother, Crosshair.

The murmurs of the island's residents drifted around them as more of Omega's brothers and their companions arrived to soak up the sun. Rex felt a twinge of unease; it was a rare luxury to relax, and in truth, he hardly knew how to embrace it. The sound of footsteps in the sand and something being driven into the ground behind him intensified his brief moment of concern.

“Ready to try it again, Omega?” came a cheerful voice that stirred memories of the previous night. He had awakened to find several of his brothers and Omega peering down at him, and he couldn’t help but feel a hint of disappointment that she had slipped away during the night. Now, she stood before him, clad in a skintight black mesh fabric reminiscent of his armor's undersuit, and he was suddenly acutely aware of her curves.

Last night, he had tried not to stare, captivated instead by her bouncing red curls as she spoke. But today, avoiding glances at her figure would prove to be a challenge.

“What do you say, hun?” she asked, her syrupy-sweet voice cascading over her plump lips, completely capturing his attention.

Rex initially hummed in response, thinking she was addressing Omega, but it quickly dawned on him that her gaze was fixed on him. Both she and Omega were watching him expectantly, and he felt warmth rising in his cheeks. “Oh, uh—”

“Mae asked if you wanted to try! It’s lots of fun!” Omega chimed in, her excitement palpable as Rex contemplated her suggestion. He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his hesitation in his throat as he glanced at the surfboard. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult, could it?

“Omega, I think the Captain could use some rest and relaxation, not a workout—”

“I’ll do it!”

The words slipped from his lips in a rush, surprising both Mae and himself. Standing there, he fiddled with the hem of his shirt, uncertain about what he had just agreed to as he awaited her response. Blinking away the shock of his own outburst, he caught Mae's smile, her palms gliding over her hips before she gestured toward Omega.

“Oh, wonderful! Omega, darlin’, could you grab one of the extra boards from over there? Preferably one of the bigger ones.”

Clearing his throat to stave off any potential voice cracks, Rex attempted to recapture the lighthearted banter they had shared the night before. “Are you calling me fat there, Doc?” he quipped.

Her laughter was as sweet as he remembered, her head shaking in amusement. “Not at all, Captain. You’re far from it—though I might suggest taking off your shirt,” she added casually, stepping away to assist Omega.

Confused by the sudden need to consider her opinion on his physique—a fact he had never questioned, given the demands of war that had kept him in peak shape—Rex caught the lingering gaze of Hunter. A smirk danced on Hunter's face, the side devoid of tattoos, as he gestured toward Rex. “Best not to keep her waiting, Captain. It’s not every day a pretty lady asks you to strip.”

“You coming?” Mae asked, prompting Rex to glance back over his shoulder. He nodded briefly and, without another word, tore off his shirt, stepping into the sunlight. As his bare feet sank into the warm sand, he caught the sound of Hunter snickering behind him and tried his best to tune it out.

“How would you rate your balance?” she asked, her gaze searching his own for a genuine answer.

“Fairly decent, I suppose,” Rex shrugged, unsure how balance could be measured, his hand rubbing along the nape of his neck.

“I can work with that. We’ll start on land,” she explained, gesturing to the board propped beside her. Assuming she meant for him to pick it up, he was surprised by how light it felt in his hands. Mae tucked her own under her arm and headed closer to the water's edge, and he followed her silently.

“Any reason we’re starting on land?” he asked skeptically.

“Well, it’s easier to practice the movements here, where you’re stable, before trying them on the water. Don’t worry—I think you’ll be a natural,” she said with encouragement as she set the board down in the sand. Rex followed suit, placing his board a few paces away from hers.

He watched as she lay across her board, positioning herself vertically on her stomach, and mimicked her stance.

“Alright, I’m correct in assuming that GAR conditioning has made you quite familiar with push-ups?” she asked, glancing over at him as she propped herself up on her elbows.

“Yes,” he replied, recalling the rigorous training the clones had undergone since their youth, which continued throughout the war.

“Perfect! That’s half the battle,” she said with a smile. “I’ll walk you through the motion if you want to follow along—”

“Right,” he said, placing his forearms down on the board just like she did.

“So, when you’re paddling out, you’ll want to push over the sides of the board until you’re on the wave. From there, pull your hands back to your sides and place your palms flat on the board near your chest,” Mae instructed. Rex followed her directions without hesitation, eager for her to continue.

“Perfect! This part should be easy for you. Just do a push-up and hold yourself on your toes,” she said, demonstrating the movement. Rex watched her lower body lift effortlessly off the board, then shook his head and mimicked her.

“Now, this is where it starts to get tricky, especially on the water. Move the leg you want as your back foot and place it near your other knee, keeping your toes on the board while maintaining your balance,” she explained. Rex observed as Mae positioned herself in a way reminiscent of a ‘mountain climber.’ He copied her movements, nodding for her to go on.

“Okay, now take your other leg and place your foot between your hands, keeping your knee bent.” She executed the motion with impressive speed, tucking her small frame up onto both feet and holding steady as she waited for him to catch up. As Rex did his best to follow suit, she nodded and pushed herself into a standing position, prompting him to quickly do the same before she could offer more guidance. He realized that while the movement felt straightforward on solid ground, it would be much more challenging on an unstable board in the water.

“Great! I knew you’d be a natural. Do you want to try it on your own to see if you’ve got it down? Then we can head out,” she said, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. A part of Rex wondered if his ability to grasp the movement had genuinely impressed her. 

Running a hand through his hair, he nodded and lowered his body again under her watchful gaze. Doing his best to recall the movements from memory, he felt confident in his performance. Just as he focused on where his front foot landed, he felt gentle fingers graze his jaw, guiding his face forward.

“Looks perfect, but remember to keep your gaze forward. Looking down can throw off your balance; focus on where you’re going, not where you’ve been…” she advised, her fingers retracting as swiftly as they had brushed against his skin. A warm flush spread across his face as she pulled away, leaving behind a lingering sensation that felt almost electric.

Using his strength to push himself up, despite the brief lightheadedness from her fleeting touch, he soon found himself towering over her again. A bright smile lit up her face, revealing her white teeth as she nodded at him. “Perfect! Let’s try it in the water,” she said, nudging his shoulder before disappearing to sit in the sand.

Curious about her sudden retreat, he watched as she took a small strap from the back and wrapped it around her ankle. He mirrored her movements in silence, noting how her gaze wandered over his frame. He knew there wasn’t much she hadn’t seen before. She was a doctor, and one who had worked with clones before. His tan skin and frame hardly differed from those around him. However, he knew his scars might be different as they told his own unique story. He felt her eyes linger on the center of his chest, where a bullet had almost claimed his life.

Red hair dramatically bounced as she realized she’d been caught staring, her eyes darting away at the last moment as she pushed herself off the ground. Rex had always been attuned to the movements of others, a skill honed over years of watching targets and surveying for danger. Her hurried movements now lacked the grace he had admired before, leaving him to wonder what thoughts occupy her mind.

Before he could linger on his thoughts, she sprinted toward the water, and he hurried after her, eager to keep pace. “Come on, Soldier!” she called back, her voice ringing with excitement as she dove into the ocean, vanishing beneath the waves. He followed suit, delighting in the refreshing coolness of the water against his skin. Carefully placing his board atop the gentle swell, he watched it bob as he stood near the shore, waiting for her to reappear.

“Do you want to try standing up here before we head out further?” Mae asked, suddenly popping up on the other side of the board, her arms gracefully shifting as she positioned herself. Assuming her suggestion came from a genuine desire to see him succeed, he nodded and hoisted himself up in the shallow water while she held the edges steady.

He immediately felt the difference of being in the water and approached the motion of standing with extra care. Once his feet were firmly planted, he rose with as much grace as he could muster. The board rocked beneath him, and when he looked down, he saw Mae beaming as she released her grip, allowing him to fully experience the push of the waves. With a joyful splash, he jumped back in, swimming close to her as she applauded. “I think you’re ready to head out and try it for real!” she said, her enthusiasm shining through.

With a nod, he watched as she effortlessly pulled herself onto the board and demonstrated how to paddle out. As soon as he grasped the motion, his gaze drifted to the captivating scene before him: the ripples of her arm slicing through the water, the sunlight glinting off her wet red hair, and the curve of her figure as she paddled ahead, her black swimsuit accentuating her silhouette.

Perhaps it was the thrill of being able to gaze without interruption, but he couldn’t help but watch her throughout their journey into deeper water. When she turned around and effortlessly hoisted herself up on the board, he quickly glanced away, not wanting her to catch him staring. He remained horizontal, moving closer and propping himself up on his elbows, ready for her to explain.

But she seemed completely absorbed in her desire to catch a wave, laying back down and paddling away, leaving him behind. 

His brown eyes carefully tracked her movements, admiring the ease with which she glided through the water. She rose as if it were second nature, standing tall atop the wave as she distanced herself from him. To his astonishment, she even had the audacity to walk along the length of the board while riding it, only to leap off into the shallow water moments later.

Knowing it would be a moment before she returned, he pulled himself into a seated position and settled in to wait. Even though he understood the movements, he still felt a twinge of unease about trying it without her guidance. As she paddled closer, she grinned and waved, and he couldn’t help but mirror her smile. She looked truly at peace—much happier than the day before, when exhaustion and stress had weighed her down. Now, she radiated lightness and joy, enjoying the water not as a task, but as a pure source of delight. Perhaps it was a type of relaxation he could come to understand in time. 

“How’d you do that?” he asked once she was close enough for him to see the dimples in her cheeks.

“What, walking?” she replied casually.

“Yeah, it looked so effortless,” he complimented.

“Practice. Time. Definitely not a move for beginners like you. Speaking of which—” she nudged her head toward his board, “are you ready to give it a shot on your own?”

“I suppose. I can already tell paddling is going to be quite the arm workout,” he said, gesturing as she let out a light laugh.

“It is! How do you think I got these guns?” she said playfully, flexing her surprisingly impressive bicep for someone her size. Unsure why he felt compelled to comment, he was even more taken aback when a cheeky remark slipped from his lips.“Whoa there, Ma’am! Do you know how to handle a loaded weapon like that?” 

From shock at his quick remark to a teasing smirk, she shot back, “Not sure, Captain. Why don’t you come over and give me some firearm training since that’s your area of expertise?” Her laughter rang out as she turned away, leaving him momentarily speechless, mouth agape. He blinked in disbelief, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. “Well, I do have a few tactical moves up my sleeve,” he called after her, trying to regain his composure.

She glanced back, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Oh, really? I’m intrigued!”

With a newfound determination, he pushed off the board and paddled toward her, his confidence slowly building. “Alright, just remember: I’m an expert in this field,” he teased, aiming for a lighthearted banter as he caught up with her.

As they floated side by side, he couldn’t help but admire the way the sunlight danced on the water around them, mirroring the playful energy between them. “Most important part of handling weapons is making sure they are properly maintained” he asked, raising an eyebrow, gesturing to her arms as the woman caught on to what he was insinuating with a laugh. 

She laughed again, the sound like music in the salty air. “Oh of course, Captain! Might I need to pass your expert inspection…?”

He grinned, enjoying the playful tension between them. “Absolutely! I take my inspections very seriously,” he replied, feigning a serious expression that quickly broke into a smile. 

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress her laughter. “Well, I hope you’re thorough,” she said, inching a little closer on her board. 

“Thoroughness is my specialty,” he quipped, feeling a rush of excitement. He studied her arms, the sun casting a warm glow on her skin, and added, “You’ve clearly put in the time. Those guns are impressive.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Captain,” she replied with a wink, leaning back slightly as if to give him a better view. “But can you keep up with me when it comes to the real action?”

“Oh, I think I can handle a little competition,” he shot back, his competitive spirit ignited. With that, he paddled ahead, urging her to follow. The chase was on, and the thrill of the moment filled the air. As they raced across the water, laughter and splashes followed them, the sun warming their skin and the ocean breeze carrying away any lingering doubts. He felt alive, invigorated by both the challenge and her presence. 

There was something refreshing about the way he could be both playful and straightforward with her. Rex couldn’t recall the last time he’d flirted so unashamedly with a woman—certainly not for the simple joy it brought him, rather than with the aim of a quick hookup. But as she surged ahead in their race toward the shore, her board catching a wave and propelling her effortlessly forward, he found himself grappling with a revelation: he was flirting with Mae.

She was the same charming doctor who had shown kindness to Echo and every man he’d sent through Pabu. The woman who had welcomed Aiko and made her feel at home. Everyone seemed to hold her in high regard, and Rex had quickly come to appreciate her even more after catching glimpses of her past. There was a depth to her that drew him in, making this playful exchange feel all the more significant.

Silencing the nagging voice inside him that questioned “why,” he attempted to stand, following the motion he’d practiced. His feet barely made contact with the board before he found himself sliding off into the cool water. Breaking the surface, he spotted Mae watching him with a playful smirk. “You put your front foot down first—that’s what made you fall off the back,” she critiqued, her tone light as he blinked, processing her words. It dawned on him that she was right; he had indeed led with his front foot. 

“You need to establish a firm foundation first,” she continued, offering a smile. “That said, it wasn’t a bad first attempt. I’m sure we’ll get you there in no time.” Her encouragement wrapped around him, igniting his determination to improve. He wiped the water from his eyes, feeling the coolness of the ocean embrace him as he grinned back at her. “Alright, then. Let’s try this again.” 

Mae nodded, her enthusiasm infectious. “Just remember, start with your back foot, and try to keep your weight balanced on the board,” Taking a deep breath, he swam back to the board, climbing on with renewed focus. He steadied himself, recalling her advice as he positioned his feet carefully this time. As he prepared to rise again, he glanced over at Mae, who watched with an encouraging smile.

“Ready?” she called, her excitement palpable.With a nod, he paddled out with the wave gaining momentum. As he felt the board finally catch along its pull, he  pushed up, this time leading with his back foot and shifting his weight more deliberately. For a brief moment, he felt the board stabilize beneath him. Just as he thought he might actually succeed, the wave surged, and he wobbled precariously. 

“Keep your core engaged!” Mae shouted, her voice cutting through the splash of the waves. He concentrated, trying to maintain his balance. But just as he thought he had it, the board tilted, and he found himself slipping again. This time, he fell with a splash, but as he broke the surface, he couldn’t help but laugh. Mae burst into laughter too, her joy infectious. “You’re getting closer! Just a bit more practice, and you’ll be a pro.” 

“Yeah, if I don’t drown first,” he joked, paddling back toward her, needing a moment as he found the paddling to be a bit more draining than he’d anticipated. 

“Can I make a suggestion?” she asked after a moment. He nodded, slightly puzzled, as she drifted closer. Pulling herself onto the board beside him, she abandoned her own board for a moment. Her hands lifted to his shoulders before sliding down to his elbows, gently raising them. “You can extend your arms to help stabilize yourself, but you’re really tense,” she said, her voice calm and encouraging. “You need to relax a bit…” She moved her hands back to his shoulders, her fingers gliding along his skin in a soothing manner. Gradually, he followed her advice, allowing the tightness in his shoulders to melt away under her gentle touch.

As he relaxed, he felt a warmth spreading through him, both from her touch and the shared moment. “How’s this?” he asked, trying to gauge her response. Her fingers flexed for a moment before disappearing from his body. “Much better,” she replied, a smile brightening her face. “Now, focus on your balance and the rhythm of the water. You can do this.”

He took a deep breath, feeling the gentle rocking of the board beneath them. “Alright, I’ll give it another go,” he said, determination bubbling up within him. 

“Just remember to keep your core engaged and take your time,” she added, her hands pushing off his board as she returned to her own once more. Offering a reassuring grin she told him. “You’ve got this.” With her support, he began to paddle once more. Pushing himself up again, leading with his back foot and extending his arms out for balance. This time, he felt more stable, the water beneath him less daunting.

“See? You’re doing great!” Mae cheered, her enthusiasm infectious.

For a brief moment, he found his footing, gliding over the gentle waves with newfound confidence. But just as he began to believe he had mastered it, a larger surge bumped into the board. He wobbled precariously, and before he could adjust, he tumbled into the water once more.

Emerging with a splash, he laughed, shaking his head as he glanced over the top of the bobbing waves.“Hey, every attempt is a victory!” she called out, her laughter mingling with his own as she paddled closer. “You’re making more progress than you realize. Let’s try again!”

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

Returning to shore with a lighter air around him, he followed behind the doctor as she insisted they should take a break, claiming she was tired. Deep down, he knew her suggestion was really for his benefit. Rex had severely underestimated how draining the activity could be. Still, he felt a swell of pride for the progress he’d made.

“You looked a bit awkward out there, Rex. Surfing is harder than you thought, huh?” Hunter joked as they approached the spot where the rest of the group had gathered.

“I don’t see you out there giving it a shot,” Rex shot back.

“I value my reputation, thank you very much. Can’t have people watching me make a fool of myself like some people,” Hunter replied, a playful smirk on his face. Rex scoffed at the insinuation, laughter bubbling up between them.

“Oh hush, he’s doing great. Although any more sun and you are going to start burning there Captain-” she nodded towards him as she held a bottle of what he assumed was some sort of sun protection. 

“You’re one to talk,” he said, gesturing to her cheeks, already flushed from the sun despite the sunscreen she had applied.

“Some of us are just a bit less immune to solar radiation,” Mae replied, raising an eyebrow with a playful smile. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I could use some help with my back.”

Rex felt a swirl of excitement and apprehension at her request. Part of him relished the idea of being close enough to touch her, while another part worried about what that might mean. Yet, she had already touched him several times, each encounter feeling casual and comfortable. Taking a deep breath, he chose to embrace the moment. “Not a problem, ma’am,” he said, trying to sound confident.

“Well, aren’t you a charmer?” she giggled, her fingers deftly grasping the zipper of her wetsuit and tugging it down from her sternum to her bellybutton. As she slipped her arms free from the material, Rex stepped forward, his gaze instinctively dropping to the ground to avoid staring as she applied sunscreen to her front. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her being particularly careful, making sure every inch of her chest was covered before moving on to the rest of her body. She bent at the waist to lotion her legs, her bottom brushing close to him as he struggled to keep his focus on the lapping waves instead of the fact she’d shoved her quite round bum near him. 

“Alright, you’re up!” she said with a playful giggle, waving the bottle of sunscreen. Rex raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“Me?”

“Your back!” she clarified, gesturing toward him. Suddenly, it struck him that she intended to help him out before he had a chance to return the favor. Turning around, he felt her step closer, the warmth radiating from her as she placed her palm on his right shoulder. The unexpected touch made him jump, eliciting a soft snicker from her as her delicate hands began to rub the lightly fragrant lotion into his skin.

Instantly, he felt the tension he had been holding since the start of the war begin to melt away under her nimble fingers. She moved with purpose, ensuring the lotion was absorbed without lingering too long, her hands gliding across the expanse of his back. When she finally withdrew, he turned to reach for the bottle, but she looked up at him with a bright smile and tilted her head slightly, saying, “Lean down for a second.”

His eyes widened in confusion as she gently cupped the side of his head, her thumbs brushing the tips of his ears. Unsure of her intentions, he choked slightly on his own saliva, which had been pooling in his mouth, and stammered, “What—?”

“Ears are one of the most common areas to develop melanoma,” Mae explained, reminding him that she was a doctor. Her intentions were purely clinical; she aimed to highlight a vulnerable area prone to severe damage. Clearing his throat, he looked down into her eyes and noticed a delicate ring of gold encircling her blue irises just before she met his gaze.

“Good to know,” he said, and as she nodded, he felt compelled to add, “Thank you.” She acknowledged him with a slight bow of her head before handing him the bottle and turning her back to him. Her long red hair cascaded down, obscuring part of her shoulder. He gently tapped her shoulder and gestured, “Uh, you might want to—”

“Right,” she chuckled, gathering her hair into a makeshift ponytail, pulling it out of the way. Just as he was about to place his open palm against her back, something caught his eye—a scar, almost like a brand, marred her right shoulder. It was unmistakably intentional.

He felt a surge of curiosity mixed with concern, racking his brain for a moment as to why it looked so familiar. His gaze lingered, and she turned her head slightly, asking, “Something wrong?”

Rex hesitated briefly before placing his hand in the center of her back, rubbing in the sunscreen gently while his mind raced, trying to recall where he’d seen that marking before. As he moved his hands lower, he felt her shiver at the contact just above her swim bottoms.

“Sorry,” he murmured, catching the airy, uncertain response from her. “You’re alright, hon,” she reassured him, though the warmth in her voice didn’t quite mask the hint of tension.

In that moment, the marking and her accent struck a chord within him, illuminating details of her past he hadn’t anticipated uncovering. The realization weighed heavily on him, a deeper understanding forming in the quiet space between them.

Killough. Rex recalled reading about them in the archives as the war progressed. Despite the Republic’s diminished presence in the Outer Rim and the overwhelming focus on the droid armies, he was aware of the criminal activities lurking in the shadows of the conflict. The Killough Clan was notorious—a wealthy and well-connected crime family deeply entrenched in the region. They frequently associated with the Pykes, the Hutts, and other dangerous organizations. Why else would she bear a brand from such an organization unless…

Fingers lightly grazing the burn, Mae turned away abruptly, her eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion as she stepped back from him. “Thank you,” she said, avoiding his gaze. Rex might have probed further, perhaps even flirted, if he hadn’t just stumbled upon a revelation that made his stomach sink. Surely she couldn’t be connected to them. Right?

“You’re welcome,” he replied, tension hanging thickly between them. The weight of the realization that he’d pieced together her past hung over them, a shadow neither could shake. For how the man perceived her reaction, it was clearly a painful subject, possibly even incriminating. And for her, he sensed that she feared he would judge her based on it.

This unspoken tension made their quick exit easier, each of them looking for an excuse to escape.

As Rex stepped away from the group, he struggled to reconcile the fun, flirty doctor he had been enjoying with the unsettling possibility of a darker past. The contrast left him feeling uneasy, and he needed time to process it all. Just as he made it to the treeline of the beach he heard a raspy voice say, “go away,”. 

Crosshair. 

Rex had forgotten the sniper had settled into a hammock away from the others in this direction. Not wanting to confront his prickly personality amid an internal crisis, he almost muttered “gladly” in annoyance as he stepped away.

“Problem…?” came Crosshair's voice, tinged with an unexpected concern as Rex turned to see him leaning over the edge of the hammock.

“You all— I mean, someone has to know… how—” Rex struggled to articulate his concern, the words eluding him as Crosshair’s dark eyebrow shot up in interest.

“I can’t believe you let Stitches lure you into her death trap she calls surfing,” Crosshair remarked, either attempting to deflect the conversation or tease him while he was vulnerable—Rex couldn't quite tell.

“And I can’t believe you all are letting a woman connected to a criminal enterprise roam freely, let alone neglect to warn a guy—” Rex shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

Crosshair's sharp intake of breath and equally hostile tone cut through the air as he dropped to the ground beside Rex in the blink of an eye. “What did you just say?”

Caught off guard by the sudden transition from teasing to menacing, Rex straightened, irritation bubbling within him as he realized the enhanced clone had the height advantage.

“I said you’re all either ignorant or reckless for allowing a woman connected to the Killough Clan to roam freely—” Rex retorted, his voice steady despite the tension.

“I’d recommend you keep your mouth shut about things you don’t understand and that don’t concern you—” Crosshair hissed, his tone icy. Rex clenched his fist, anger bubbling beneath the surface, but pressed on.

“It does concern me. I’ve spent all day in the company of a woman—”

“Mae. Her name is Mae,” Crosshair interjected sharply.

“Mae” he corrected before continuing, ”Who’s walking around with a brand from one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the galaxy,” Rex shot back.

“Like I said, stop involving yourself in things when you don’t know the whole story,” Crosshair warned, taking a step back, eager to distance himself from Rex before the tension escalated further.

“But-” 

“Don’t you think one of the first things Tech did when we saw that scar was investigate? We’re not fools. We know better than to get involved with dangerous people, especially for Omega’s sake. As for why she has that scar, that’s not my story to share. But I’d advise you to think very carefully before you disrespect a woman who’s spent the better part of a year cleaning up your messes without you even realizing it.” With that, Crosshair turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Rex momentarily speechless.

Glancing back at the water’s edge, Rex saw Mae standing waist-deep in the waves, her smile radiant as she demonstrated to Omega how to push up on the board. The memory of her gentle touch lingered in his mind, alongside the uncomfortable realization that Crosshair had been right: she had given him no real reason to worry. He didn’t know the full story, but he wasn’t about to find comfort in the words of a sniper with a blood-soaked past tied to the Empire. 

Rex knew he had to be cautious; survival depended on it, and that instinct was not something he could simply switch off. Yet, as he watched her vibrant red hair catch the sunlight, he felt a growing urge to extend some grace until he had more clarity.

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The sun was beginning its slow descent over the water, casting a warm glow on the beach. Most of the group had retreated to clean up before dinner, leaving Rex alone with Hunter as Omega waved goodbye over her shoulder. 

“Someone should stay down here to make sure she’s okay,” Rex said, nodding toward Mae, who was now sitting on her board, watching the sunset with her back turned to them. She had kept her distance from him for most of the day, perhaps still affected by the moment he’d touched her scar or by his argument with Crosshair. Whatever the reason, he had retreated into himself since then.

Trapped in his own thoughts, Rex found himself trying to piece together the fragments of her past. Could she have been a slave? Maybe she was the child of an advisor? Or perhaps she had been tangled up with a former lover... 

As he glanced out at the silhouette of her figure breaking the horizon, a thought struck him: what if he simply asked her? She had been honest the night before about her experiences in the RAR. If she opened up it would certainly ease his own mind.

Spotting the board he had neglected earlier, Rex paddled out to meet Mae on the water. She was much further away than before, and it took him significantly longer to reach her. As he got closer, he noticed she still hadn’t taken her eyes off the sunset. With her legs drawn up on the board and her chin resting on her knees, she seemed lost in thought. Without her wetsuit, the pink of her shoulders stood out against the fading light.

He was certain she had sensed his approach, yet she remained silent. Uncertain of how to begin, Rex felt a wave of regret wash over him for seeking her out. What if she was angry? What if he had crossed a line and she needed space? The confidence he had felt just moments ago seemed to dissipate, leaving him anxious and unsure. Surely, things hadn't shifted from wonderful to tense so quickly.

He cursed the Kaminoans for programming him for war rather than for navigating human emotions. Throughout his life, he had been led to believe he wouldn’t need to engage with civilians, leaving him unprepared for moments like this. The decision to forgo pleasantries now felt like a misstep. Though he was a free man in many ways, he would eventually need to connect better with civilians.

In the past, he had mostly adhered to regulations, interacting only with a select few—like the Senator’s handmaidens or some hired help at the 79s. He remembered Jesse’s girl, the one who had gotten pregnant, whom he had helped off-world after the war. But those brief encounters hardly made him an expert in emotional matters.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” she said, her tone firm yet laced with a palpable dejection.

“Wha—” he started, but she turned abruptly, locking him with a gaze that made even the battle-hardened captain shrink under the intensity of her eyes.

“Please, don’t pretend you don’t understand. I know you saw it. I’m fully aware of what that mark signifies. I had hoped you would be the kind of man to ask me, rather than fleeing as if I personally were the one who committed those crimes,” she began, and in the brief moment she paused to run her hand over her hair he started to reply. 

“So that means you—”

“I’m not finished,” she interjected, her voice steady but infused with a quiet strength. He nodded, letting her continue. “Have you ever been on your own, Rex?” she asked, her gaze softening as she studied his features.

“I—uh, well, no. I can’t say I have. I’ve always had someone. My brothers, our Generals. There was always someone there,” he admitted.

“It’s not easy being alone at such a young age. I found out he was going to sell me off to some associate to be his bride. I endured years of abuse, watching my mother and every bride he took after, killed for giving him daughters. But learning I was to be ‘gifted’ to a man fifty years my senior was the final straw. When I escaped, I went to the one place I knew they’d be too afraid to look for me.” 

“Coruscant,” he filled in the blanks, understanding how she had become part of the Republic.

“I always wanted to be a doctor,” she continued, her voice tinged with longing. “I felt a sense of purpose when I patched myself and my sisters up. But medical school is expensive, and I left everything behind when I fled. I enlisted so I could study for free, to see the stars, knowing that it was too close to the Republic for them to ever find me again.” Mae closed her eyes, a soft breeze tugging at one of her damp curls before letting it settle by her shoulder once more.

“I—” he trailed off as she opened her eyes again. The fading light cast a silvery hue to them, momentarily captivating him and causing him to lose his train of thought. Regaining his composure, he pressed on. “I’m sorry for running off earlier. You have to understand, I’m a soldier. I’ve been trained to be hyper-aware of danger, even when it comes in unexpectedly beautiful forms.”

“Is that your way of saying I’m pretty, Captain?” she teased, a playful smile breaking through the tension and bringing a moment of ease between them.

He chuckled softly, a warmth spreading through him. “Perhaps it is. But it’s more than that. It’s how you handle yourself. You’re strong, and that’s what caught me off guard.”

Her smile widened, and she leaned in slightly, curiosity sparkling in her eyes. “So you’re saying strength is attractive?”

“Absolutely,” he replied, his tone earnest. “In my experience strength like that, it’s a rare quality. Most people hide behind walls, but you seem to embrace your experiences. That and admittedly-“ he looked at her with a smile before saying, “you are very candid,”

She tilted her head, considering his words. “Well, it hasn’t always been easy. But I’ve learned that there can be strength in vulnerability.”

Rex felt a shift in the air, a new understanding forming between them. “I’ve always been told to keep my guard up, but maybe there’s something to letting it down sometimes.”

“Exactly. You don’t have to carry the weight alone,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “We all have our battles, Rex. Sharing them can lighten the load.”

He nodded, feeling a sense of relief. “Then maybe I can start by sharing a bit more… that is, if there was someone willing to listen..?” His tone conveys a question rather than a statement as her eyes flash with understanding.

“Good,” she said, her smile returning. “I would be honored,” the redhead told him as he turned away, suddenly bashful at the notion. 

“Remind me to give you my comm channel when we get back,” the man said, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sun just began to peek over the water. Darkness would soon envelop them, and he knew they should return, but a part of him yearned to stay.

The weight of the moment hung in the air, inexplicable yet significant, as if the atmosphere crackled with unspoken energy. He felt a flicker of hope at the prospect of friendship and the stability it could bring—especially with someone who had been quietly supportive without him even realizing it. Memories of Crosshair’s words flashed through his mind, mingling with the insights he had gained the night before.

“Hey Mae?” he called, drawing her attention from the fading sun to him. She lifted her head from her knees, a curious hum escaping her lips. “Thank you,” he said, sincerity threading through his voice.

He wasn’t entirely sure which part of her kindness he was acknowledging—her honesty about her past, her compassion towards his brother, her understanding of his nature, or the lightheartedness that made him feel at ease. Maybe it was simply the way she made him feel like just a man, watching the sunset with a remarkable woman. Regardless of the reason, he felt compelled to express his gratitude.

“Anytime, Rex,” she replied, brushing her hair over her shoulder with a soft smile. “But we should probably head back,” she added, letting out a gentle sigh.

“Yeah,” he agreed, stealing a glance at her. The sun had kissed her skin, giving her a warm glow. “You’ve been out in the sun all day. It’s definitely time we get you back.”

With that, they leisurely began to paddle back toward the shore, neither in any rush to end their time on the water. Eventually, as the shoreline beckoned, they reached the shallows. Rex and Mae hopped off their boards, the cool water swirling around their ankles as they walked back to the beach.

Just as they were about to step onto the sand, Mae paused, her fingers sifting through the sand below. A delighted sound escaped her lips as she unearthed something.

“What is it?” Rex asked, intrigued. He couldn’t help but find her childlike excitement endearing as she examined her find.

“Your armor—it's blue, right?” she asked, holding up the small object in her hand, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. He nodded as she held the small object up to the fading light, revealing a blue fragment nestled between her slender fingers. Unlike typical glass, it had a frosted appearance, giving it an almost ethereal quality. “It’s called sea glass,” she explained, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “It forms when fragments of glass get smoothed out by the sand, making them soft to the touch instead of jagged like broken shards.”

She handed it to him, inviting him to examine it more closely. The color mirrored that of his blue armor, and it was indeed as smooth as she described. Yet, despite its beauty, Rex found himself puzzled by her delight over what he considered just a piece of discarded glass. Rex turned the sea glass in his hand, admiring its color and smoothness, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just an oddity. “It’s beautiful,” he said, trying to match her enthusiasm, “but why are you so excited about it? Isn’t it just… trash?”

Mae laughed softly, her eyes twinkling. “That’s where you’re wrong! It’s not just trash. It has a story—it was once something else, maybe a bottle or a jar, and now it’s something new. Isn’t that kind of magical?”

He looked at her, contemplating her words. There was a profound depth to her appreciation that he hadn’t considered. “So you see beauty in… broken things?”

“Exactly! Just like us,” she said, her voice sincere. “We all have our own scars and stories, but that doesn’t mean we can’t find beauty in them despite the pain they once caused.”

Rex felt a flicker of understanding ignite within him. “I guess I’ve always focused on the damage itself rather than the possibility of finding beauty in it.”

Mae smiled, a gentle encouragement in her gaze. “It’s okay to feel that way. But remember, just like this sea glass, we are still here. Resilient and shaped by what we’ve endured into something entirely different,”

He handed the sea glass back to her, a newfound respect for its significance growing. “Thanks for sharing that with me. I suppose I needed a reminder.” She beamed at him, tucking the piece into her pocket as they continued their walk along the shore back towards her home, leaving the beach behind them. 

𓇼 ⋆.˚ 𓆉 𓆝 𓆡⋆.˚ 𓇼

The following morning brought with it the realization that he had to return to the stars and the mission that awaited him. After saying his goodbyes the night before, he decided to slip away quietly before anyone else woke up. He neatly folded the blanket from the sofa where he had slept and grabbed his bag, casting one last glance down the hall at Mae’s closed door. He knew she was likely still asleep, just as Echo and Aiko were in the other room. He didn’t want to disturb her; she seemed to be someone who rarely got the rest she needed.

Pabu in the early morning light was just as beautiful as it had ever been—quiet, warm, and inviting. It felt like home, even though he knew he shouldn’t allow himself to get too comfortable here. Yet, he understood why the others had found a sense of belonging.

Each step back toward his ship felt surprisingly lighter. After sharing his private communication channel with the talented doctor the night before, he left the decision to reach out in her hands. She had thanked him for finally showing his face after all the clones who had passed through her care on his behalf. He felt willing to let their friendship develop at its own pace, however that might unfold… for now.

Just as he caught sight of his ship’s outline, he heard the sound of light footsteps pattering behind him. Assuming it was Omega sneaking away to see him off, he turned, ready to greet the young girl. Instead, he found himself face-to-face with a pair of bare feet on the stone and a shock of vibrant red hair.

“I heard the door close—” Mae began, her eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief as Rex’s surprise quickly faded into a nod.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said sheepishly, his shoulders slumping as he realized he hadn’t been as quiet as he’d hoped.

“It’s okay. Someone should see you off, right?”

“I suppose,” he replied, setting his bag down for a moment, his mind racing with questions about why she had chosen to come out.

“I also forgot to give you this last night,” she said, stepping closer, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. When he didn’t respond, she rose onto her tiptoes, gently placing something over his head and letting it drape across his chest. Pausing for a moment, their eyes crossed one another. Her checks flushing at the recognition he was watching her closely. With that, Mae stepped back to allow him space once more, and he caught a light whiff of something feminine. Not exactly floral, but certainly reminiscent of the aromatic scents of the island tangled with perfume. 

Remembering why she’d stepped close to him in the first place, his hand south the item. It was the same piece of tumbled glass from the night before, but now it had a small hole at the top, threaded with a cord that extended to a leather band. “I thought you should have a memento from your first time on Pabu, and the blue matches your armor,” she explained as he turned the sea glass pendant over in his hand, marveling at its beauty and the thought behind it.

Rex held the pendant up to the soft morning light, the frosted blue glass shimmering delicately. A wave of warmth washed over him as he realized the significance behind Mae’s gift. “It’s perfect,” he said, his voice sincere. “Thank you for thinking of me.”

Mae’s smile widened, her excitement infectious. “It’s a reminder that even broken things can become something beautiful.”

He nodded, his fingers gliding over the smooth surface of the glass. As he reflected on his words, thoughts of her filled his mind. Mae came from a perilous past, having faced terrifying and uncertain situations that could have easily shattered her spirit. Yet here she stood, illuminated by the morning light, bare feet planted firmly on the ground, dressed in her nightgown—radiant and resilient. There was a strength in her that captivated him, a reminder that even in the face of adversity, one could emerge beautiful and stronger.

The pendant felt weighty yet comforting in his hand. “I’ll cherish it,” he promised. The gesture felt like a connection, something he could carry with him no matter where the stars took him.

“I hope it brings you memories of this place, of your brothers and your friends,” Mae said softly, her gaze lingering on the pendant before meeting his eyes.

“It already does,” he replied, a warmth blossoming in his chest as he took a moment to appreciate her kindness. “This whole trip has been more than I expected.”

Her expression shifted, a hint of vulnerability peeking through her cheerful demeanor. “I’m glad. It’s nice to know you enjoyed your time here.”

“More than I can say,” he said, feeling the weight of the moment. “You’ve made this place feel like home, even if just for a little while.”

Mae’s cheeks flushed, and she looked down for a brief moment before meeting his gaze again. World spinning, butterflies in his stomach as he looked back at her. His gloved hands stroking the smooth surface of the pendant between his pointer finger and thumb as he looked down at the way her expression showed a hint of longing amidst her resolve. Clearing her throat after a beat between them she said, “You should get going, though. I didn’t mean to hold you up,”

“Right,” he said, reluctantly picking up his bag. “I guess it’s time for me to ship out.” 

As he turned toward the ramp, he felt a twinge of regret. “I’ll keep in touch,” he assured her, glancing back.

“Promise?” she asked, her tone laced with hope.

“Promise,” he confirmed, feeling the weight of that commitment resonate between them.

With one last smile, he turned and began walking away, the pendant resting against his heart—a tangible reminder of their shared moments. As he sat down in the cockpit, he couldn’t help but look back one last time, capturing the image of Mae standing there, the morning light framing her in a golden glow. She’d moved further back under the large tree at the top of the Island’s hill, leaning against its low hanging branch as she lifted her hand into a wave. 

Starting up the engines, Rex felt a renewed sense of purpose. The journey ahead may be uncertain, but with the pendant as a reminder of his time on Pabu and the connection they had forged, he felt ready to face whatever awaited him among the stars. And if he found it way back to Pabu in the future, perhaps he could enjoy a few more slower moments in the midst of his chaotic life.

To be continued...

Again shout out to my friend for this amazing image!

[lazyjellyfish300]

Hey Jelly! May I request a Drabble for your Fall/Autumn Flufftober event?

It involves Miguel O’Hara and [Reader] [Gender Neutral] experiencing a “haunted house” as part of their date. Miguel would especially be protective of [Reader] throughout the attraction, despite being aware they’re just props and scare actors doing their jobs. While doing so, Miguel is “holding hands” with [Reader] to not lose one another at the house.

SWIFT!! OFC this is such a cute idea 😭😭💕💕 so sorry it took me forever but hey spooky season isn't over til I say so 😁🖤🎃 thank you for requesting 💕

a haunted house with miguel 🏚️🖤🎃

Warnings: xGN!READER , fluff, crack, joking reference to monsterfucking.

Words 1.5k

The shivering bite of October nighttime was starting to get to you, but with Miguel close by, it made the seconds more tolerable as you stood outside the haunted attraction.

Michael Myers' theme music blasted in speakers with green and purple flashing lights, the smoke from the bonfire in front and the chalky smell from the fog machines joined together to make a spooky concoction that filled your nostrils while the distant shrieks from other guests made your stomach twist with the anticipation of what ghoulish tricks awaited you inside.  

"Ready for this?" Your boyfriend, Miguel, asks with his charming lopsided smile, one of his arms around you pulling you into his gray hoodie that blessed you with sandalwood every time he brought you closer. 

You smile at him from where your chin is lightly resting against his chest. "I mean I'm ready, I don't know about you though."

"I'm ready." Miguel answers, raising his eyebrow at a thrift store looking Leatherface targeting a group of 14 year olds with his fake chainsaw. "Seems a little intense." 

"For $80, I sure hope so." You hummed, tsking your teeth, all the while you hoped your phony nonchalantness wasn't betraying you. "They better kill us for that price." 

"Don't say that." Miguel nudges you. "Then I won't know if Melissa was really set up by Teresa and Kim D. or if Teresa was innocent." 

"Oh my God, you're more invested in that freaking show than I am." You fake offense and poke playfully at Miguel's stomach of steel while his hands followed yours, defending against your attacks. "Not even concerned that I'd be dead, just mad your ass can't watch the ending of Real Housewives of New Jersey!"

"Haha, yeahhh cause we'd both be dead, genius." Miguel shakes his head, finally spinning you around and nudging you forward as the line drew closer to the entrance. "They don't have streaming services in heaven." 

"Oh I don't think we're going to heaven, sir." You examine your nails. "I mean, I am, I dunno about you though, it's a lil toasty where you're headed.." 

"Oye, watch your step." Miguel chides as you almost trip over your own feet. 

"Greeeeetings, mortals! Party of two?" The worker dressed as the bride of Frankenstein inquires, fake vampire teeth practically falling out of her mouth. 

"Yeah." Miguel clears his throat as he looks at you sideways. 

The worker goes off on her spiel, 'don't touch the actors and they won't touch you, stay on the designated path, take note of the emergency exits should you need to exit the haunt early but beware there is no reentry upon leaving, most of all be safe, have fun, hope you make it out alive or some sort of painful joke at the end', blah blah blah

Your attention is snapped back to Earth when she gives you and Miguel the green light to go ahead, and the invisible magnets in your hands find and seize one another as you clasped each other's hands in the dark as you sauntered cautiously forward. 

"Having fun already?" Miguel teases. "Your hand is sweaty like you've run a marathon and we're not even two minutes in." 

"Man, shut up, I am not-aaaAAHH!" You jump and cling to Miguel at a loud thump on the wall from one of the actors behind you. 

Miguel chuckles. "This is gonna be a long ride." 

-----

"Oh helllllll nah." 

You start to turn around at the sight of the giant clown sitting in a chair at the end of the dark stuffy hallway holding an axe. 

"Baby, this was your idea." Miguel halted you in your tracks, spinning you around to face the front. 

You gulped as you studied the menace, pinstripes with an eerie grin and all. "That thing is gonna jump, just watch." 

"I'm pretty sure it's stuffed." 

"No, babe, that is a living breathing killer clown from outer space." 

"For the love...just get behind me." Miguel inches down the hallway, his broad back obscuring your view.

"Mig, what's happening? I can't see shit." You turn to your right and at that very moment lock eyes with Chucky, letting out an unholy scream which makes you smack into Miguel which causes him to nearly fall on top of the clown.

The teen underneath the clown mask saw all 15 years of his life flash before his eyes at the 6'9 tank about to crush him, realizing his final thoughts would be that the $7.25 an hour for this gig truly wasn't worth it. 

"Jesus!" Miguel gains his bearings, flustered as he turns to you. "You alright?" 

"Yeah, course I am." You lie. 

Miguel takes your clammy hand again. "Alright this time, don't let go of my hand." 

"Right." 

You two make the rest of your way through the haunted circus, the black light illuminating your clothes with the neon paint splatter on the walls, navigating through the eclectic fun house atmosphere with the unsettling music box tunes blaring overhead. 

Miguel remains stoic for the most part. Although you try to thug it out, every now and then a sudden noise or bang or obnoxious cackle behind you will make you jump. Miguel responds by bringing you closer protectively, cracking a joke to make you feel more at ease. 

"This man thinks he's Pennywise but he's really Krusty the clown." He nods in the direction of another menacing clown with sharp teeth that tries to get all up in your face. You burst out laughing and the guy underneath the mask low-key feels his hopes and dreams get crushed in the same sentence. 

The rest of the haunted house isn't so daunting with your protective boyfriend guiding every step. You get scary dog privilege without even trying, as most of the actors are intimidated by Miguel's large size alone, if not his sarcastic quips everytime they get too close. 

"Welllllllcome to my shop of horrors!" A butcher covered in fake blood with a crazy look in his eyes and a leather apron tries to get you to eat his human brain casserole. 

Miguel looks unimpressed. "I burn water but I can make a lasagna more edible than that." 

You cackle as Miguel leads you away, leaving the butcher equal parts baffled and clutching his invisible pearls. 

---

You come to a part of the haunted house that leads back outdoors, with fog all around you and a werewolf that comes running up to you on all fours, snarling and foaming at the mouth. 

You startle for just a moment then smirk as you turn to Miguel, 

"Hear me out..." 

"Absolutely not." Miguel figures he's gonna have you lay off the dark romance novels for a bit as he drags you away. 

-----

Once you get to the final section with the vampires, your fears have all but disappeared, playing along and smiling when Dracula with his cult of vampire wives waltzes up to you and asks to suck your blood. 

"Just warning you, Vladdy, I'm anemic." You flirt as you take his arm. 

"Alright, that's it." Miguel grumbles as he drags you away yet again. At first you were scared of the monsters, now he has to stop you from banging them. 

"But he's hot, and he has fangs!" You protest, giggling as Dracula dramatically bids you farewell, inviting you back to Transylvania anytime while Miguel carries you to the exit. 

"We have fangs at home." Miguel reminds you with a smirk before flashing his prominent canines at you. You have to stifle a giggle as you lay your head on his chest. 

 ----

"Well that was fun." You cuddle next to Miguel a short time later on the couch in your shared apartment, sighing as you lean forward, using your sweater as heat pads to pick up your mug of hot cocoa while he peruses for a Halloween movie to watch. 

"It was fun." Miguel hums. "But we're not doing it again." 

"Why not?!" 

"I'm not paying nearly a hundred dollars for you to practically leave me for Edward and Jacob from Twilight." 

"Oh my God, you actually got their names right!" 

"In other news, the movie's starting, so..."

"Baby, you're not really jealous are you?" You get closer and plop in his lap, Miguel letting out an overdramatic pained grunt. "Oh, stop it, you." 

Miguel doesn't crack at first, remaining tight-lipped while you shower him with little pecks. "You know I could never leave you, Migs." 

Miguel finally reveals a smile, "Oh, I know, I just like hearing you say it." He pulls the blanket over your shoulders as Coraline begins playing.

"Man, all you had to do was ask!" 

"Ssshhhh....Coraline's on." Miguel winks as he silences you once more. 

"Mhmm, love you too." 

You grin and feel any cold from earlier disappear altogether as Miguel's prescence warms you from the inside out as you watch the movie together, hot chocolate in hand, cookies in the oven, candles lit, all the while the chill of outside remains where it belongs in the October night in Nueva York. 

[galaxysupreme17]

Dreamcatcher Crafting Night

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader!

Y/n’s restless nights had been following her for over a week now. She brushed off the worry when her mothers asked about her sleep, saying it was nothing. But the truth was that something dark seemed to lurk just beyond her reach, pulling her from sleep repeatedly. So tonight, when she shuffled into the living room with another yawn, she wasn’t surprised to see her moms exchanging concerned glances over her tired face.

“Couldn’t sleep again, sweet girl?” Agatha asked softly, her eyes filled with understanding as she wrapped an arm around Y/n’s shoulders.

Y/n leaned into her mother’s warmth, nodding. “It’s just…every time I close my eyes, it’s like there’s something there. Like I can’t shake it off.”

Rio’s brow furrowed as she brushed a gentle hand along Y/n’s arm. “Then we’re going to help you. Together.”

Agatha’s eyes lit up as an idea formed. “How about a little crafting session?” she said warmly. “We’ll make some dreamcatchers and fill them with some magic.”

Y/n’s eyes brightened with curiosity. “Dreamcatchers? I haven’t made one since I was little.”

“Not just any dreamcatchers,” Agatha replied with a wink. “We’ll add protective spells. It’ll be something special, just for you.”

Rio smiled and stood up, heading toward the storage closet. “I think I have the perfect materials in here,” she said, gathering an assortment of hoops, threads, beads, and feathers from the shelves. The supplies, organized in neat rows, felt like they were waiting for this very night. She placed them all on the coffee table, which quickly transformed into a crafting station under the cozy glow of the living room lights.

As they started, Agatha sat beside Y/n, gently guiding her daughter’s hands through the steps of creating the dreamcatcher’s web. “Start with the hoop and thread,” she said softly, looping the thread through the frame with expert hands. “Each knot you make is a promise of peace. Every thread connects to the next, like a spider’s web. Imagine it catching anything harmful before it can reach you.”

Y/n looped the thread carefully through the hoop, her brow furrowing in concentration as she tied the first knot. Agatha watched with a warm smile, occasionally reaching over to adjust a thread here or there, blessing each movement with quiet words of protection.

Rio picked up the delicate feathers and beads as they worked, adding them to the dreamcatcher with a practiced touch. She threaded in a small blue feather, tying it gently in place as she murmured, “Feathers to guide good dreams toward you, mi amor.”

The rhythmic act of crafting filled Y/n with a quiet peace. Each gentle instruction from her mothers and each touch of their hands reassured her. Little by little, the feeling of safety settled into her, filling her heart with warmth.

After a moment, Rio carefully added a silver moon charm to the hoop, brushing her thumb over it before passing it to Y/n. “This will help light up the darkness,” she whispered, placing it in her daughter’s hand. “Just remember that nothing can reach you here. We’re here to protect you.”

Y/n nodded, watching Agatha reach for a tiny crystal that glowed faintly in the soft light. “And this little one,” Agatha murmured, threading it into the web, “will catch anything that doesn’t belong and send it right back where it came from. A little ward, just for you.”

Feeling their shared care in every twist of thread and every added charm, Y/n’s heart filled with gratitude. The simplicity of creating something so meaningful together was a quiet, grounding reminder that she was loved and protected.

When the dreamcatchers were finally finished, Rio held one up, inspecting it with a proud smile. “Perfect, cariño,” she said, brushing a hand along Y/n’s cheek. “You made something beautiful, and it’ll protect you. Nothing will get through this.”

Y/n smiled, admiring the intricate design of her own handiwork, guided and shaped by her mother’s care. Y/n walked back upstairs to her room, and both her mothers followed after they cleaned everything up. Y/n carefully hung it above her bed, watching the delicate feathers and beads sway softly in the dim light.

After it was set, Agatha and Rio stayed close by her side, watching her settle under the covers. Y/n felt a warmth spread through her as she lay back, watching the dreamcatcher cast faint shadows on the walls. Agatha sat beside her, smoothing her hair back, her eyes warm with love. “Just close your eyes, sweet girl. Nothing will hurt you,” she murmured, her voice like a lullaby.

Rio sat on the other side, taking Y/n’s hand in hers, her thumb rubbing gentle circles over her knuckles. “We’re right here, my love,” she said, her words soft but steady. “Just let yourself rest.”

Y/n’s heart settled into a gentle rhythm as she closed her eyes, surrounded by the gentle presence of both her mothers. She felt Agatha’s hand gently brushing through her hair as Rio leaned over to press a kiss to the top of her head, grounding her in their warmth. With each soft word of reassurance, the tension in her body finally melted away.

Gradually, Y/n’s breathing evened out as sleep pulled her in. But her mothers stayed by her side, watching over her with tender patience until they drifted off. Eventually, Rio and Agatha lay on either side of Y/n, their hands intertwined across her, forming a shield of warmth and love.

The dreamcatcher above them swayed softly in the dark, casting its gentle, protective spell over the family. For the first time in weeks, Y/n’s dreams were filled with nothing but light and warmth, and her heart rested, deeply and fully, in the safe haven created by her mother’s love.

[blubberquark]

Playtesting, Censorship, and Authenticity

I have seen some backlash against Stellar Blade for "caving to censorship". This could probably have been avoided if the developer hadn't previously made full-throated promises about his artistic vision, and if the marketing campaign hadn't released promotional images of costumes the the game. When Stellar Blade finally had to tone down some of the nudity for age ratings and console approval, some audience said they felt cheated.

I don't know how much of this outrage was real, and how much was political posturing. Probably a lot.

This happens all the time. A game is re-released, or re-mastered, the developers have to remove or tone down the edge of parts of the game that was completely fine and unremarkable when the game was released. It happened with Skullgirls, and even with certain cards in Hearthstone. In the case of Skullgirls, the backlash was kind of predictable, because Skullgirls was hardly unremarkable back then. On the one hand, because they originally crossed the line twice, the retroactive censorship wasn't unexpected. On the other hand, half the the point of the game was that it was edgy and anime and looked like it was made by Japanese people who didn't understand what you can and can't say in Europe and North America. It wasn't just gratuitous Nazis and panties, but gratuitously gratuitous Nazis and panties. It's not my cup of tea, as a player or as a developer, but I completely understand what they were going for. In the case of Hearthstone, the removal of the Succubus card/character was in all likelihood due to Chinese censorship, about age ratings on one app store or another, and then they just decided it would be easier to justify and draw less attention if they removed the card/character everywhere around the world, and it would be more profitable this way than if they made the game ages 16 and up in some parts of the world.

There have been multiple instances of politically motivated outrage against games that had hired a narrative design consultancy firm, sometimes fuelled by short, out-of-context clips of activists from these firms bragging how they managed to change the tone and direction of the game despite resistance from the developers, or explaining how they managed to influence management to hire a consultancy firm against the will of the core team.

All this taken together forms a narrative: Outside forces are deliberately pushing designers, developers, art directors, and lead writers to abandon or water down their creative vision.

I think that's misguided for two reasons: First, I think the developers of indie games are either themselves trying to make their games palatable for mass audiences, and they themselves are responsible for the political messaging or general vibes of their work. Second, game design is full of compromise. About that first point: ZA/UM were not secretly pressured manipulated to add in a bunch of politics into Disco Elysium. Concerned Ape was not browbeaten into removing realistic gore and nudity from Stardew Valley. A lot of the time, most of the time, what you see is the artistic vision of the developers, or their political stance. There is no need to conjure up conspiracies. Maybe the remaining Skullgirls developers just have gotten older and don't feel the same way about shock value like they used to.

Most indie games do not self-censor, but I would not be surprised to learn that the more popular and mainstream a game is, or the more popular a game becomes, the more likely the developers are to self-censor. This is because "true artists" that ruthlessly follow a creative vision are usually niche oddities you can download for free (itch is full of them), but also due to the dynamics of indie success. When games develop something of a following and commercial success, so that their developers keep on expanding and iterating on the game, they become more conservative. Just imagine you decide to keep working on a free game of yours that blew up, for financial reasons, instead of working on the next niche thing. If you make this decision, you are probably already motivated by growing your audience, and more likely to self-censor.

This "conservative" approach to game development is usually not about avoiding sex, violence, religion, and politics, of course. It's about making the game easier, avoiding difficult puzzles, complicated narratives, niche literary references, and all kinds of mechanics that could limit your audience. Instead of removing unpalatable elements from a game in the end, you decide to pursue mass appeal early on, and reorient your whole design around that from the ground up. I mean, if you could choose, would you rather develop the next Lunacid or the next Among Us, the next Passage, or the next Vampire Survivors?

I fear if you are following me, you will probably decide to go the starving artist route.

The second reason why you shouldn't worry that much about outside forces influencing games also has to do with game development, but less with marketing. It's fundamental to the way game design works.

Re-makes and re-releases are unusual in this regard. Most of the time, you don't see a fully formed game like Skullgirls that you can compare with a re-release, or Final Fantasy VII, or Silent Hill 2. Most of the time, you only see the final product, and perhaps, if the marketing campaign screwed up, you realise that the final product differs from the promotional material (as was the case with Watch_Dogs or No Man's Sky).

Most of the time, you don't see all the content that was developed and doesn't make it into the game. If you did, you would realise that games usually are not born out of the head of their creator fully formed and armed like Athena from the head of Zeus. Most games are developed iteratively, and although the core of the game is fixed, most mechanics, plot points, levels, and characters are subject to change. Often you only see how well something works once you implement it and try it out.

And then, you only really see how well it actually works when you let somebody playtest it. The clunkiest game mechanics and the most obtuse puzzles feel fine to you if you were the one who thought about them. The worst writing and the most convoluted plots will feel elegant because you wrote them. The only way to see what works is playtesting.

Being "true to your artistic vision" from start to finish is pretty much impossible. If you work together with people, you will struggle to communicate your ideas. This is why big productions resort to mood-boards and all kinds of adjacent junk in their production bibles, why AAA games produce so much concept art, and why games often feel like they are ripping off existing work. It's really hard to communicate to your team that you want to make a game with a certain feeling if that game does not yet exist, but it's easy to communicate that you want a game "like Doom 3" or "like Metroid Prime" or "like Proteus".

If you actually manage to communicate your artistic vision to your team down to the precise minutiae, you will hamstring your artists. You have those artists working with you so you can worry about the big picture stuff while they work on the art part. If you are rigid about your own creative vision, you leave other people no space for creativity, no space to express themselves, no leeway to make creative or design decisions.

And after all that, everything must be playtested, even the big-picture mood stuff, to see if the mood actually comes across when the players aren't already primed by the concept art and the design document and weeks of meetings. If the player doesn't know he is supposed to feel a certain mood, does the game still work?

Both the Skullgirls situation and the Stellar Blade situation are unusual, because the the tone of Skullgirls was edgy on purpose, and Skullgirls concept art had been released in 2012, and the designer of Stellar Blade had already promised not to censor all the eye candy. I think the backlash to Stellar Blade was overblown and politically motivated, and the part of the backlash to the Skullgirls re-release about sanitising their decade old concept art had a point, barely.

If you are making your own game you will quickly notice all the compromises you have to make your game, or maybe you just don't release any concept art or in-progress screenshots, maybe you don't work with other people, maybe you don't even play-test, and just upload a finished game to itch.io without ever reading the comments, like a true artist.

Once you understand that, you will understand that there is a solid core to every game design that you won't compromise on, and a surrounding malleable blob that you want to re-shape and negotiate in order to preserve the core. When you get playtesting feedback that tells you to replace the core with something else, you try to re-shape that blob in order to make the core work. When an idea of yours is not feasible, you compromise to preserve the spirit. If you are making a real-time strategy game, and somebody tells you to make it turn-based, you might ignore them, or you might entertain this feedback. It all depends on whether your core artistic vision is "real time" or "flanking the enemy and using the terrain" or "logistics and intelligence in 19th century land warfare".

The people who are the most rigid about game design are usually teenagers just learning to program. They bite off more than they can chew, and they are completely unwilling to reduce their scope. They are unable to execute on their vision in terms of development skill, unable to understand the consequences of their design choices.

If you are unable to compromise on your artistic vision, you are unlikely to realise it.

[solidwater05]

I'm watching a video about a nuclear reactor in Minecraft and I understand the nuclear part better than the redstone part. What the fuck is a monostable circuit.

[airocats]

[medi-bee]

isat pokemon au, my liege?

my rambling in tags

[h-didanart]

Have any of you guys ever been doodling when suddenly you’re hit by the angstiest idea ever and so you start workshopping that idea into an au as an alternate timeline to see if it would fit with the au only to create an absolutely heartbreaking and depression inducing scenario, only for your brain to decide that’s not enough and end up creating that same scenario in your two other main aus so that you end up with three deeply traumatized versions of the same character?

Anyone?

No?

That’s fair

I call them the heartbroken trio.

We have a post-Everything Goes To Shit arc Scythe, around January ‘24 Bloody, and a post-Second Takeover Harvest. You may notice I called them by their actual names and not by their usual [insert trait here]!BM names, and that’s on purpose.

See, due to various circumstances in each of their respective timelines, their twins died.

They’ve all taken it very harshly, but express it in different ways, Scythe is more reserved yet more ruthless in her anger, Bloody has become extremely disconnected from everything, and Harvest is an anxious wreck. All their reactions are directly correlated to their twins’ death and how they perceived it.

Anyways, yeah.

New au//timeline thing. Yay?

Oh, and for your troubles

The guy who in his canon lost his twin being extremely conflicted about the newcomers. Cuz in one hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to! But on the other hand they are versions of versions of himself that he knows that he can relate even more to.

Yeah :P

Might elaborate on these guys later

[anghraine]

My best friend and I moved in together with his closest friend from his MA program, and while I had met her before (the friend; my bff is a man), we hadn't spent much time together because I've never lived away from the West Coast (and only two years out of the PNW) and she's never lived outside of North Carolina and only briefly visited the PNW once, when she went to Portland last year.

It's been a delight to show her around the PNW and realize we need to explain things that are just sort of omnipresent in our lives. The bff and I were casually griping with each other about having to run an errand to Trader Joe's at an inconvenient hour, and were telling her, "it's okay, you can stay in the car and avoid the people if you want" and she was like "NO I MUST SEE IT, I'VE ONLY HEARD OF THEM" and nearly ascended to another plane when we showed her around the store.

The bff and I grew up in the same town in NW Washington (him for his first 18 years, me from 9 to 19) and he lived in Bellingham and Seattle for years before he went to NC for grad school (I went to the SF Bay Area for mine, a very different experience). Both of them are hardcore coffee aficionados, but he struggled with the different Coffee Ways of the South, so for the true PNW experience they want to tour various indie coffeeshops next.

Also, she adores Kaidan in Mass Effect and we were like, oh, is your passport up to date? We could take a trip sometime and show you your boyfriend's beloved English Bay. It's very beautiful :)

her: O_O

me: Actually, it's worth going to Vancouver BC for its own sake as well, it's truly spectacular. We used to go all the time as kids.

bff: And Victoria!

her: O_O

[true-blue-sonic]

I know for sure I've asked about this a long time ago before but I'm kinda back to thinking about how different the development of Espio and Silver's dynamics would've been in Rivals 2 if they weren't as quick to fully trust each other as they were in canon but remained "enemies" a bit longer and only really teamed up out of necessity. If their dynamic isn't already near-spotless following an inexplicable "for some reason I trust you" type conversation, there's more room (and requirement, really) for growth on both sides; in the original dynamic it feels more like if there's any growth to be had then it'd be solely on Silver, so this thought might also help find a balance

I recall having talked about it before as well, yes. I would say that Espio and Silver alike have quite a few vices that would make cooperating between them far more difficult: they're both tremendously stubborn, proud, opinionated, hot-heated, and just to the extent neither can let evil go its way. While none of those are necessarily attributes that are bad in the situation they are in, I can envision them clashing very badly because of those traits. Considering Espio is actively chasing Silver down to gather evidence of him committing a crime, Silver's hot-headed nature might cause him to fly right off the handle if Espio keeps pushing him about it. And Silver's haughty and rude attitude in turn might make Espio far less willing to see the best in him and try to trust him. I think it speaks to Silver's honest nature and Espio's ability to see the truth in it that they were able to cooperate so relatively smoothly in Rivals 2, but I can also envision many scenarios wherein things did not go so idyllically until far later in the game.

What you're saying next is actually a bit of an issue I have when writing my fics: I've joked before that Espio is "already perfect" because he's just... basically an expert at everything, haha! He completes his missions well, he's driven and skilled, and his overly serious demeanour as the Chaotix's straight man alongside his snark feels like more like comedy than a flaw or something that truly hinders him to me. Meanwhile, Silver is far more 'imperfect' to me: he jumps to conclusions, he can be uncooperative and rude out of nowhere, and even if he is always right in the end, the way towards that end can be tremendously rocky because of those personality traits. That was why I wanted Espio to also go through a development in Stories that made sense to who he is as a character: specifically that he follows Vector's rule to a T regardless of his personal opinion on the matter, which begins to clash with the fact Silver is very much guilty but did what he did for a good cause (aka not a black-and-white scenario at all). And since Silver plays a central role there as well, I think his flaws can play a role also: he doesn't want Espio to be walked over, but the way in which he conveys that (which is rude as hell) might make things worse at first. Vector might be even more pushy about Espio gathering evidence if he gets yelled at by Silver, and Espio in turn might feel needled and put under pressure from two parties now that demand entirely opposite things from him (in his mind). I think such a thing could help make their dynamic more interesting and also different from New Beginnings, while fitting with their personalities.