#made this in class last year at like lightspeed

[lapiscallout]

Stars or something

[happy-beeeps]

No Really I Can

Summary: You're a schoolteacher, and you've developed a little bit of a crush on the new dad in class.

Pairing: Din x reader

WC: 1.6k

Warnings: alcohol use!

It’s quiet when he enters, only the mild hum of chatter between your students recapping their recent days off. It’s a sound you’ve learned to work through, scrolling through your data pad to look at their recent homework—drawings of their family.

You almost don’t notice him enter, until that mild hum stops all together. One of your students, Twyla, a quiet Deverronian girl, speaks first. “It’s him.”

The Mandalorian moves through the desk with the practiced ease of a mercenary. The baby behind him, not so much. You vaguely remember seeing him with a small bundle strapped to his chest in the few times you’ve seen him in the market, but you hadn’t made out the shape of the child until now.

“Students! We’re going to get started soon, please open up your data pads and take a look at today’s system.” They oblige, you have a good group, and the Mandalorian stops at your desk. “How can I help you?”

He’s quiet at first, then hoists the child up in his arms so he’s level with your desk. “This is Grogu, I think I’m supposed to sign him up for school.”

“It’s nice to meet you Grogu,” you murmur, voice quiet. He smiles and coos in response, and you can feel the heavy gaze of the Mandalorian on you. “Where is he at, schooling wise.”

“He had a… specialized education.”

“Okay, what languages does he speak? He may have to be transferred to the droid-led class.”

“He doesn’t, not really.”

“Do you speak Mando’a at home?”

There’s a heavy pause before he continues, “no, no we don’t. He doesn’t speak at all. But he listens.”

You smile at Grogu, and reach out to pat his hand. “I work with students of all ability, his speaking is not necessary to his learning, or to his being a good student.” You motion to reach for him, and the Mandalorian obliges. He’s heavy in your arms, but warms up to you instantly, and you know in your heart it’s going to be hard to keep yourself from loving this little guy. “Pickup is in five hours. Magistrate Karga has donated datapads to all the students, so he’ll get to take one home today. It’s time to say goodbye for now.”

He’s deliberate with his movements, holding the child’s hands before pressing his forehead to Grogu’s. He’s out the door before you can speak, and you realize you never got his name.

* * *

Grogu is a funny kid, he’s emotive and quick to respond. He loves to draw, and you can tell he listens intently to his classmates, like he’s wise beyond his years. You teach a wide age of students, and he feels quickly in line with his younger classmates, but your older kids are easily including him, picking him up and carrying him to recess. You determine there’s a few things about his special education that his father neglected to mention, especially when you notice the ball your students are playing with seemingly levitate to Grogu.

And his father. Your mind lingers on him now, nursing a martini in the cantina. He’s been respectful, kind, patient every day at drop off and pick up. He’s quiet, but not shy. Closed off, you’d guess. He asks after you every morning, and on the last day before the week break he’d brought you caf. It was black, lacking the creams and sugars of your usual order, but the thought was there. The silver vessel is still in your bag, admittedly sending a flutter through your chest when you hear it rattle against your things.

“Are you even listening to me?” Your friend asks, eyes rolling as she watches the dizzy look in your eyes. 

“Sorry, just thinking about work.”

“Sure…” she says slyly, knowing all too well what that dazed expression means. “Oh, don’t look now, but the Mandalorian just walked in.”

You whip around at near lightspeed, ignoring your friend’s smooth that she murmurs under her breath. He’s here, he really is. You’ve seen him here maybe once before, and in fact he had Grogu with him, huddled against his chest while he and Karga were tucked away at a booth in the back of the room, chatting easily. 

“He’s walking over here, maker, what did you do.”

“Nothing!” You shout as quietly as possible, doing your very best to nonchalantly fix your hair, your face, literally anything you can get your hands on.

She’s quick to read you, “Ah, I should’ve asked who you did.”

He’s at the table before you can respond, words dropping off your tongue as you look at him.

You’ve never been this close to him, his thighs nearly pressing against the edge of the table you’re at. He’s so large, commanding, and it sends a blush to you to think about. 

“Grogu’s teacher, right?”

“It’s me, do I look that different out of the classroom?”

He’s quiet, then responds, “You look relaxed. Happy.”

You move to answer, but your friend beats you to it, “Well, I was just leaving,” she pats your arm as she stands up, “get home safe now, okay.”

You don’t miss her wink as she leaves the bar.

“I’m sorry about her-“

“Can I buy you a drink?”

You speak at the same time, and you blink in response to his question. “Absolutely.”

He’s back at your table quickly with a new martini, and you’re kicking yourself for ordering such a heavy drink. He slides into the seat and sets it down in front of you.

“Where’s yours?”

Reclining back in his chair, the answer comes to you as soon as he speaks it. “I don’t. Not here, anyway.”

Right. The helmet. “So, what brings you to a bar?”

“You.” 

It’s spoken so simply it catches you off guard, and you cough on your drink.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that,” if you knew him better you’d say he’s embarrassed, “I just wanted to get to know you.”

You smile, and take another sip. “I’d like that.”

He moves the napkin around in front of him awkwardly, and you realize how out of place he looks in a place like this. “What’s your name? Your first name.”

You tell him, and he repeats it back, as if he’s tasting it on his mouth. The intimate way he whispers it has your blush creeping back. “Can I ask yours?”

“I’m not used to telling people,”

“Oh, I’m sorry you don’t have to.”

“It’s Din. Din Djarin.” He replies quickly, as if you gave him no hesitation.

“Din.” It’s your turn now, to turn his name over in your mouth. “Grogu is a great kid.”

“He is. He’s with Karga now actually, he loves him.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, he’s hard not to love.” You’re quiet, taking another sip, “can I ask why you just now decided to enroll him in school.”

“We’ve been… touch and go lately. Wasn’t sure where we’d end up. I’ve never really been in one place for long.”

“Mandalorian thing?”

He chuckles, “Me thing.”

“I get it. Everyone here came here for a reason. People are only just starting to move here for fun.”

“Can I ask what brought you here?”

You shrug, “The empire, same as everyone else. Actually, I got here right after you left, if I gather all the stories about you correctly.”

“Oh, theres stories about me?” He’s teasing, his voice dipping into a joke.

“Hundreds,” you smirk at him over your glass, “that you’re secretly a Wookiee, that you’re a cold blooded killer, that you have more guns than friends.”

He’s silent, and moves to trace a finger around the bottom of your glass. “Only one of those things isn’t true.”

A chill runs up your spine, but not out of fear, though you know it should be. “Can I ask which?”

“Nope,” he nearly pops the ‘p’, and leans back in his chair, “where’s the fun in that?”

* * *

You’re tanked when you leave. You’ve never been more grateful, or more embarrassed when Din helps you home. “S’sorry. Not normally like this.” You slid against him, and he merely places his other hand on yours, grasping onto his bicep like it’s your last hope. 

“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who bought you them, if anything it’s on me.”

You should be terrified, but Din is nothing but a gentleman while you talk his ear off on the walk back. He laughs when something is funny, and nudges your shoulder when you tease him. Still. You should be terrified. You remember the day the pirates came to Nevarro, remember the way he had defeated them all by himself. 

You’re at your door quicker than you’d like, and you’re leaning on him while you fumble for your door code.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he replies, hand tracing down your arm. 

“Was this a date?”

He doesn’t answer at first, then asks you, “Do you want it to be?”

“Yes please.”

He chuckles, “Then call it our first.”

“I don’t do this, just so you know.”

“Do what?”

“Date all the hot dads at school.”

“I don’t either.”

“Date all the hot dads?”

“No,” but he pauses to laugh, a true uninhibited laugh. “Date. At all.”

The door clicks open, and you pat the cheek of his helmet. “S’okay. I can teach you.”

You enter your apartment before he can respond, and the door slides shut with a hiss. You’re struck like a university student again, leaning against the door. Your brain is telling you to run, to date some boring, normal. But you can’t, you won't. 

Your last thought before slumping into bed, makeup and all is simple. 

I can fix him.

[sillycicle]

mha oc!!!1!!11!!

hes so silly I love him so much and he doesn't even have an actual name yet 😭 I've had this guy rotting my mind since December when I last hyperfixated on mha and decided to finally give him an overhaul (hehe) and actually design him

Im about to start blabbering about his quirk and story so if you want to hear more just go ahead and read but be warned!1!1!!

His hero name is the Energy Hero: Starboy and his quirk is Light Energy Manipulation. He's able to manipulate light energy from the sun & other light sources, all having different effects when in use. As he uses his quirk more and more, his hair slowly starts turning more white. When he uses his ability his white hair also shines iridescent, like a rainbow.

His horns and tail come from his father, who had a quirk that simply gave him horns, a tail, and manipulation of his own energy. His mother had a quirk that would make her hair light up and glow like the sun - but thats all he was told by his adoptive parents, as he was abandoned alone on the street with no memory when he was five years old. He was told that his father was murdered, and his mother was missing, so he devotes himself to heroism in order to make sure nobody else leaves children and family alone of the street to defend for themselves.

Energy from the sun & stars: gives him his basic fighting style, which is creating waves, shields, weapons, transportation, and all around general use. Its similar to Denki's, but only a bit. If denki was able to refine and control his quirk w/out the use of support items, he'd be exactly like my oc lol.

He later figures out that energy from the sun & stars gives him a new ability as part of his Quirk Awakening: Lightspeed - this ability gives him the ability to move his position in time. There's two versions of this ability, Red Shift and Blue Shift - they rewind him and fast forward him respective to the color shift they match. Also it isn't time travel, its more just like??? If he fell off a building facing one way, when he uses lightspeed to rewind himself, he can move freely during his way back up, but he's still moving upwards??? Like he can turn around and face the way he wasn't before??? Hope that explains it. He can also use this ability on objects and people that he touches, but only for the duration of this ability in use.

This ability also has heavy drawbacks on him, and he regularly suffers from nosebleeds, head aches, and tremors after he uses it (he almost died from a nosebleed in class once bc Aizawa was tired of him leaving to go to the nurses. He never made him stay in class again lol). Similarly, is he uses this ability on other people more that regularly, they suffer the same conditions, just lessened. The first time he uses this power, his body is rewound an entire day as part of his drawbacks, but his body being rewound rarely happens after her begins to train with this power.

Energy from UV: He can turn invisible and things he touches invisible, kind of like Violet from the Incredibles. This ability is primarily used as an ultimate move.

Energy from Incandescent Light: sort of electric-like, similar to denki's, but he uses it less because its for difficult to harness and get enough incandescent energy for use. Also, incandescent energy is regularly mixed with his sun energy, so its kind of useless to try and seperate it.

He is involved with any arc involving the whole/most of the class like the USJ and Sports Fesival arcs. He is also involved with the Stain and Shie Hassaikai arcs, and maybe more as I continue to rewatch the show. He also plays a supporting role in the Two Heroes movie, and his own arc that happens because why wouldn't i give my main mha oc his own arc??? What???

During said Starboy arc, he has some shenanigans with a villain who basically has a quirk similar to (what i know of with my limited jjk knowledge) domain expansions. Also iida is a big part of this arc too bc he's my fav character why wouldn't i involve him in my main oc's arc??? What??? Anyways, Starboy and Iida literally dance to beat this villain lol. Also Starboy almost levels a 10th of a city ❤ After that, his right (your left) eye is permanently in a sunburst shape and he is semi-partially blind. He also has sunburst-like scars on his hands and forearms after this battle. His original character design had ties to AFO and stuff, but he was WAYYY to plot relevant and could've lowkey replaced Deku with his backstory alone lmao.

He's closest with Iida, Kirishima, Kamanari, and Sero. He's also pretty close with Shoji, Tokoyami, Ojiro, Hakegure, and Mina, but not as close as the aforementioned four.

Also the last photo is his winter costume =p

[suitetarts]

pockets full of stone

A mer-may collab with @miranhas-art 💙 See below the cut for another gorgeous Mari illustration! ... and my fic

Din Djarin nearly dies (again) and meets someone from the stories he heard as a child. He didn’t expect them to be so sassy, though.

Rating: General Word Count: 2.8k Warning: Description of drowning, thoughts of death, vomiting (water) AO3 Link

A push, grunt, then a large splash into the lake’s dark and chilled waters. 

This was the last time Din was going to talk business on a pier without his jetpack. He knew the bounty was desperate, and for Maker’s sake, the Quarren had thrown his body weight around earlier on the Crest trying to piss Din off by scaring the kid. He should have known better.

Din pulls himself back to the present and away from any blame. He could worry about that later. Or never, and he supposes he’ll find that out soon. His whole body feels incredibly heavy, much more than what he has grown used to over the years. Where metal meets man, he is dragged down; the weight of his padding and armor applying an inescapable pressure as the moonlight fades to black above him. He tries pulling at the water with his arms while kicking with his legs, grasping for anything, but still he feels himself sinking deeper. 

Wait, the… Who would take care of the baby if Din can’t....

His breaths are coming fast as he tries and fails to calm himself. Keeping his body upright means that the water still hasn’t crept into his helmet, which is something he can work with. But only for a short few moments. Din realizes he’s probably going to run out of breathable air before he reaches the bottom of this icy lake, much less walk out of it, as he continues to sink.

Din’s mind begins to fog as he figures he might be able to save himself if he loses some of the beskar. He doesn’t have the luxury to dwell on this, as close to his heart and soul the beskar may be. The armor will be at the bottom of the lake whether he succeeds or fails, so he gets going. His normally nimble fingers are cold and difficult, and they fail to find purchase on the slippery latches of his pauldrons. The cape wrapped around his chestplate in such a way to make it nearly impossible to remove without being able to look down and see it. His head lolls forward, allowing water to rush into his helmet and the dwindling air pocket. Din’s mouth and nose are full of water, his throat contracts, his chest stutters, his lungs burn. He can’t focus on the latches to his armor or removing his belts, all he can feel is the cold depths rushing all around and within.

Fuck.

Fuck.

The Mandalorian reflects for a moment. He’s done his best, but his best wasn’t good enough. This is it. He’s flirted with this for years, and it's finally here. Is it honorable? Probably not. Is it what he deserves? Most likely. What’s his legacy? A lifetime spent trying to be worthy of being saved, only to waste it. Figures.

Before Din lost consciousness, two glowing blue lights rushed towards him, but he was too far gone to care. He was finally warm.

Death is a funny thing. No one really knows what happens in the instant before it actually happens. Everyone says they know, but obviously they don’t. There’s no certainty in death, just like in life. What happens to someone when they cross the veil, from one world to the next? If it's anything like traveling at lightspeed, Din knew that like the back of his hand. A shudder felt through the hull, a pause, and then that’s it. Silence and flashes of stars, except perhaps these would fade to black before long. What would he see in those stars? A story?

If Din was to see a story before he died, he knew plenty of them. He had once been fond of the stories that came from strangers. He would beg his father to take him to the cantina, to let him sit in the dirty booths and eavesdrop on the travelers talking about their recent journeys to Coruscant or to any number of exotic planets in the outer rim. The idea of being totally free to do whatever Din wanted in the whole entire galaxy was so thrilling, especially compared to his reality of being tied down to his father’s shop in the bazaar forever. What kind of story would that make for, compared to what was out there in the stars? There were dashing pilots, gunners and soldiers, merchants, bounty hunters, peacekeepers, missionaries. Stories of war in far off places, of mysterious species unlike anything he’d ever dreamed, of personal loss, of unexpected love. Whenever he asked to go -- before, that is -- his mother would give his father a look, one that was always angled so that Din couldn’t see, and then his father would relent and take the young boy out for the afternoon. But eventually, both of them would shush him when he asked. They stayed inside, ‘it’s not a good day’ his mother said, and kept the store closed. There were whispers of war, a real war. The whispers were exciting to Din at first, they reminded him of the stories. The heroes were going to swoop in to stop the bad guys and put everything back to normal. But then the whispers grew into screams, explosions, shooting. Where were the heroes? All the thrilling things he had heard in the cantina, but terrifying and happening to him with no one here to--

Stop. Din’s dead, and yet he continues to torture himself. If he gets one last laugh, it should be at himself.

Din didn’t want a story, or to relive his life. What about something he never got to do? He had always hoped that he could live in a fantasy, if only for a moment, where he could have a simple life. A moisture farmer on some backwater planet, or a working class mechanic for a Mid Rim starport. Although that was never a life he would actually want for himself, a simple life was always a nice thought for a different Din. One who wasn’t so…. damaged.

So here he is, a man on the brink of death. Is he seeing his life flash painfully before him again, is he living in a dream, is he nowhere at all?

A kiss. He’s being kissed.

Now, Din had never kissed anyone on the lips in life. He knew the steps, the basic mechanics, but he imagined that it was a much different experience to be kissing an actual active participant and not just the skin on the back of his own hand. There was a certain give and take that he was looking forward to -- a dance, a battle of will fought with plush lips and soft tongues. Even beyond the direct battlefield, there was the periphery of where one’s hands would be, knees intertwined, legs weak and swaying. His arm wrapped around their waist and his fingers brushing tenderly over their cheek, while they pull him in by the shoulders until they melt together.

He would have much rather died in a kiss like that.

In this brief moment of purgatory, however, he can settle for this one chaste kiss. This ‘kiss’ he is having now, if it’s to be called that, is… Hmm. It isn’t what Din imagined. Everything is dark, and it's not anything like a dance. This person seems to be gasping into him with their mouth wide open, like a fish out of water. Whoever he’s kissing has clearly never done this before either, otherwise why in Maker’s name would anyone want to kiss again? He strains his arms to reach forward at whatever is capturing his lips, but he can’t find his strength. He had never known that kissing would need to be so rushed, or involve so much blowing of air? He --

Oh.

Din grunts around a cough, finding himself on his back and in quite a bit of pain. His insides feel like they are saturated and about to burst. He rolls over onto his hands and knees on the muddy banks of the far side of the lake so that he can proceed to throw up an obscene amount of water, which only makes the burning in his lungs more and more painful with each heave.

A sigh of relief, a soft voice breaking through the silt caked in his ears which seems to speak only above a whisper. “I-I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Din freezes. The discomfort and pained heat in his chest is nothing compared to the inferno under the bare skin of his face. He continues to stare at the ground, but shifts his eyes up so that he is looking in the direction of his savior.

A human, scantily-clad with only a dark cloth wrapped around their chest and some sort of leather skirt, sits in front of him on the rocks, their legs still partially submerged in the murky lake water. They thumb at their wet lips as they smile at him, and he feels a blush creep from his face all the way down his chest. Those glistening, smiling lips had been on his lips.

His lips.

His face.

The Creed.

Despite a sensible voice in Din’s head trying to remind him that they had saved his life, despite the weakness that pervaded every inch of his body, a flare of anger rises in him. He is dar’manda now, because of them.

He pulls himself up into a seated position on the lakeside and puffs out his chest, only to find the pain evaporating his anger. “What did you do….” he asks himself.

Their smile fades as their brows furrow. “I think that’s pretty obvious. I saved your life.”

“I didn’t mean-- My life?” Din sighs around a laugh. He’s done this before, hasn’t he? Why’s this different from the cantina? Because this person isn’t made of metal? He knew going along with anything less than what the Creed requires of him would become a slippery slope. The tears come easily and he does nothing to stop them. “No, my life is over.”

They set one of their hands on the rock beside them, leaning their weight onto it and towards him. They open their mouth around a smirk, then pause. They start again, but with a blank sincere expression. “Why’s that?”

It’s probably the adrenaline from nearly dying and being unmasked again, but for a moment Din considers grabbing their arm and pulling them in for a real kiss. What does it matter now? His body shows no signs of his thoughts, not a single twitch of muscle, but his face must be betraying him as he watches their eyes train in on his as they purse their lips and smile with their dark, shimmering eyes. Whatever blush he still had on his face grew a shade darker.

“You’re a bold one.” They say around a smile, their long fingers twisting through their hair.

Din squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from them, towards the dark sky full of stars. His voice cracks as he gives weight to the words running through his mind, to the feeling of emptiness inside. “I’m dar’manda.”

They snort, and Din can’t help but whip his head at them. 

“Can’t be that big of a deal if I’ve never heard of it.”

Din expected them to not know, but not for them to be so arrogant about it. He had an explanation ready, but since he was caught off guard and doesn’t want to get lost in the weeds with this person, he summarizes the summary as, “It means I’m done. I can’t wear the armor anymore.”

“Because I saved you?”

“Because you’ve seen me,” Din explains, finding the familiar words of his Creed. “No living thing can see me without the helmet. That’s… that’s the one rule. And I broke it.”

“But I’m the one who broke it.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

They blow a raspberry and wave at the air with their free hand. “You humans really can be so dramatic.”

Din pauses, squinting up at the twinkling stars as he absorbs their words. Well. Now he’s curious. He brings his gaze back down at his savior. It's dark and he’d just drowned, but he didn’t see anything… off.

“You seem human to me,” he says as he turns over and sits back on his haunches.

“You seem duller than I hoped.” They bite their lips around a smile as they laugh softly. They pull their legs out of the water; the skirt seems to shine iridescent in the moonlight, like facets of a precious gemstone. Their feet were…. Hm. Their skirt, their legs, are covered in leather? No, scales…. 

Din finds his mouth gaping as he stares at a tail, the fin slapping wetly against the rocks in step with the drum of their fingers against their thighs -- singular, thigh?

As he struggles to think of a good first question, they purse their lips in thought. “Let me go get your hat,” they say before quickly slipping back into the lake.

“W-wait, it’s not a...,” Din calls out stupidly, launching himself slowly and awkwardly from his haunches and reaching out in the empty air where they once were. 

This can’t be real. Mystical, intelligent beings with the head and upper body of a human, but the fins and tail of a fish. He was more than familiar with the stories, but such creatures were just children’s tales. Although, what was fiction now that he is taking care of a fifty year old infant with telekinetic powers? The galaxy was a big place, he supposed.

The mer-person seems to come back just as fast as they’d left, setting Din’s helmet on the shore at his feet before pulling themselves back up to sit their colorfully-scaled behind on the rocks.

Din reaches down and fumbles for a moment with the beskar, checking the inside before placing it back on his head. The pads are damp and uncomfortable, but not any more uncomfortable than feeling so exposed. “Thank you.” 

“It's no problem, hat boy,” they prod as they casually clean their fingernails. Din bristles.

“It’s not a hat.”

“And I’m not alive,” they say seriously, looking at Din’s eyes through the visor somehow. The jovial tone fades to a comfortable yet tense silence. He tilts his head, waiting for them to continue their thought.

“Why get yourself all worked up? No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway.”

“I would know,” Din states softly. The tension dissipates but the two stay motionless. Din contemplates and shrugs minutely in defeat. He would know, yes, but he already knows. This isn’t the first time he’s failed when his Creed has been tested. Yet, who would argue whether droids or mer-people are ‘living beings’? The line is blurry, so it's up to Din to decide when the line is crossed. Considering his responsibility to his foundling’s care, he pushes the thoughts of being dar’manda far from his focus, into hiding in the recess.

Ripples from the lake, bouncing moonlight off of its surface, catches his attention. Save for a brief fading view of two blue lights in the dark water, nothing. They are gone, and Din is alone. His wet lungs wheeze as he reaches down, patting along the areas where they had been, searching for any remnants of their existence. An imprint, a misplaced item, a loose scale. Not a trace.

After a moment, Din pulls himself to his feet and trudges up through the pocket of trees surrounding the lake to a small path leading back to the pier. It had only been ten minutes or so since he had been pushed into the lake, but the bounty and his client were gone. Din assumed they both left giddily, since the bounty could think he was dead and the client didn’t have to pay the back half of his premium. Wasn’t the first time, after all.

The Razor Crest’s security lights flickered to life as her prodigal son returned, the side bay ramp welcoming him inside with a flick of the wrist. As Din walked up the ramp, he was faced with an empty carbonite rack -- and more accurately, what amounted to an empty coffer. He wondered if he still had some of the murky lake water swimming through his brain because he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The beskar helmet quickly pivoted away from the carbonite chamber as he heard a grumble and the shuffling of blankets. The baby stirred from their shared cot, chirping and cooing to be held. Din crossed the hold with long, swift strides and obliged, removing his damp and filthy gloves to thumb over the baby’s warm cheeks.

Din sucked in a breath to speak, but paused. No one would believe you if you told them about me anyway. He would always know, but… He had nothing to hide from his sweet little foundling.

Din sat on the floor below the cot, leaning against the wall as he cradled the sleepy babe in the crook of his legs. The lake water dripped off of him slowly, glinting in the safe yellow glow of home as Din told a story.

[pinky-the-elephant-room]

Day by Day, Month by Month

AN: This is a server prompt for MHA & readers server which I own along with @liliesoftherain​ . It’s a soulmate AU with fem reader x mirio

Warning: Explicit sex with Mirio Togata, angst, with a bit of one sided enemies to lovers

Read the rest of the prompts here.

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June

Y/N gritted her teeth as Hado cheerfully loudly greeted Amajiki at 8 AM. All mornings were terrible for her, but Mondays were the worst. The fact that Hado had no consideration for other people’s nerves on an early morning, really, really made Y/N dislike her even more than she already does. And she already disliked her enough to ignore all of Hado’s many attempts to befriend Y/N. Especially when Hado figured that Y/N and her quirk were the same. Which is not true, Y/N’s quirk worked on the fact she could absorb small wavelengths of energy like incandescent bulbs, LEDs, or artificial lights that didn’t generate violet waves. Y/N then used that energy to make whatever she desired from beams to moving at lightspeeds using her absorbed energy.  Nothing at all like Hado’s whatever waves.

Now there was a good reason to hate Hado and that reason was the fact she was friends with her mortal enemy AKA Togata Mirio. He probably didn’t even know she existed, but Y/N hated him since second year. First year, Y/N did the impossible with her difficult to control quirk as she absorbed the LED lights in the stadium to blast her way to 4th place in the Sport’s festival. 2nd year she didn’t even make it to the top 10 because Togata had knocked her out in the 1st round of the last tournament. Ever since then Togata Mirio had exploded onto the scene of U.A., he was praised universally, and all the 3rd years worshipped him like he was a god. Y/N’s grinding of her teeth became even louder as she thought of the blonde idiot. Yes, Y/N didn’t just dislike him, oh no she hated him with every fiber of her being. She might be called a monster for it, but what she wouldn’t do for a chance to wallop his idiotic face. Maybe even strangle him for a minute or two after getting a few hits in.

Y/N watched as the slouched, nervous boy with pointed ear greeted Hado back quietly and sat in his seat. See, she didn’t make a point to be rude to Amajiki. What would be the point of doing that when he was basically a scared rabbit? Even she wasn’t that much of a monster to destroy his badly needed confidence, so she mostly just ignored him.

Finally, the sensei had come in and all the student quieted down for the morning lessons. Y/N stood up and bowed as the class president called out the greetings and they all sat down when the teacher let them. Most of the morning passed by quickly as Y/N actually did pay attention since she had a couple of tests coming up, otherwise she would be sending texts to her best friend in 3B all throughout classes. The bell rang indicating it was time for lunch, sending a quick text to her best friend to save her a seat as Y/N needed to use the restroom. She took her time leisurely to wash her hands and straightened her school uniform and made sure her hair wasn’t mussed. She even reapplied her nude pink lipstick, before taking a quick selfie to send to her friend. Y/N walked out as she used the Line app to edit some cute stickers and added on the hashtag “felt cute”. She didn’t notice until it was too late as she crashed into a wall of muscles. Y/N bounced off their chest, and her phone scattered to the floor. Quickly grabbing the device, she made sure the screen wasn’t broken. A huge sigh left her, and she turned around to give that idiot a piece of her mind.

“You moron, can’t you watc-“ Y/N cut herself as she realized she looked into the eyes of Togota Mirio.

Her whole view disconnected and reconnected as both of their minds melded. Her feelings were no longer just hers, but rather a whole of synergy of emotions as both of their desires, wants, and even fears entangled. Why was she so angry most of the time? So afraid. So anxious. She was no longer alone because he was her-

Those thoughts disconnected as the meld ended, their connection broken. Y/N stepped back in horror. Oh no. Togata was her soulmate. She just found the one person who was supposedly the perfect match for her, and it turned out to the person she hated the most in U.A.

‘Fuck my life.’ Y/N thought. She quickly turned around, ignoring his very loud protests, sprinted all the way back to the 3rd year hallway. She sent a quick text to her friend saying she was feeling sick and was at Recovery girl’s office when in reality, she was currently hiding out in the girl’s restroom. Sitting on top of a covered toilet, she frantically searched the web for a way to get rid of one’s soulmate.

Y/N knew since she hit puberty the science behind soulmates. Basically, a body’s way of finding your perfect mate that will the create the most optimal offspring. When two individuals’ eyes meet, their minds would mesh and basically their souls would connect. Y/N had watched a health video in her junior high year as two soulmates would stand there make eye contact for 5 mins with large creepy smiles and hazy eyes. Basically, looking like two drugged out idiots before regaining their senses. She remembered thinking how dumb the two looked whereas everyone else cooed at how romantic it was.

As for their souls’ connecting, it was another sugarcoated way to say the two soulmates would share emotions. Even now despite being hopefully far away from Togata, she could feel his frantic worry causing her chest to burn. Y/N tried to sooth the pain with one hand and the other one scrolling through articles. Anything that could help get rid of the moron that was her soulmate. She didn’t know how fast the lunch period passed because she was reading articles when she got jerked out of trance by the bell.

Y/N aggravatedly sighed. All the damn articles were no help, they just kept spewing the gospel of soulmates and how 80% of all soulmates would succeed in creating a healthy, loving relationship. She scowled, the only thing she would create with blonde Astro boy will be a lawsuit after she kneed him in the family jewels. As the bell rang once more, Y/N got up and kicked the toilet out of pure frustration before sulking back to her classroom.  She made it to her seat and slumped over her desk. Y/N rested her eyes for a few minutes as she could hear her fellow classmates make it back from lunch. She jerked out of her nap when she heard the familiar voices of Hado and Amajiki. Keeping a close eye on them without being obvious, she noticed how they didn’t acknowledgeable her more than normal.

Letting a sigh of relief, she relaxed knowing that Togata hadn’t let his friends know what happened in the hallway earlier.  The rest of the classes continued as normal except for the occasional bursts of happiness and the need to laugh startling her throughout the day. Y/N scoffed, of course he would be happy whereas he continued to be her source of frustration. The last of the classes were soon over so she headed home on her own. Usually Y/N would walk with her best friend, but she had an appointment with the support department to fix her hero costume.

Y/N walked leisurely down the sidewalk, enjoying the warm sunny day when a voice called underneath her.

“Hey-“ A familiar blonde face appeared in the sidewalk. Y/N screamed and bunched her skirt together so he couldn’t peak at her underwear.

“Pervert! What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she screamed as she stomped at the face.

“N-no wait! It’s your soulmate, Togata Mirio!” the face yelled desperately as he dodged her stomps.

Y/N paused in her stomps. “Well, that’s even worse than a pervert!” She resumed her stomps before giving up entirely and running away.

  The next morning, Y/N used a baseball cap to keep her face from being visible and hopefully go unnoticed until she arrived in class. She didn’t need a repeat of yesterday. Arriving in class, she took off her the cap and settled in her seat. The morning lectures continued as she halfheartedly took notes and completed her assignments. Everything was going well until Togata walked in during lunch break.

Y/N jerked in her seat and turned away using her long hair as a curtain to hopefully escape his eyes.

She could hear Hado yelled out Togata’s name as the two friends conversed.

“Oh, this time I’m not here to hang out. I’m looking for Y/N. She is in this class, right?” She heard him ask.

Y/N looked up when she heard her name and saw Hado looking in her direction in confusion. She also saw Togata follow Hado and turn in her direction. Her eyes shifted to Togata, noticing the way his face lit up as he waved her over.

Y/N groaned. There was no way she could get out of this. She got up reluctantly and approached Togata, the entire class erupting in whispers and some of the girls were either giggling or shooting her glares. Y/N couldn’t help the flush, she never did like being the center of attention. Togota led her out of the classroom before pulling her aside in a nearby hallway.

“Look, I’m not sure why you are calling me out,” she began.

“I wanted to introduce myself.” Togata held out a hand for her to shake. “I’m Togata Mirio.”

Y/N stared at his hand in disbelief. “Of course, I know who you are,” she spat out.

“You do? I thought you ran away yesterday because you didn’t know who I was,” Mirio sheepishly said.

“No, I know. I ran away because I want nothing to do with you!”

“N-nothing? But I’m your soulmate, we should get to kno-“she interrupted before he could finish.

“No, No! And No! I wouldn’t want to get to know you if you were the last guy on earth. So, you better leave me alone!” she yelled. Seeing the shocked face of Mirio, Y/N felt satisfied that he had gotten the message and marched away to enjoy the rest of her lunch period. Still, she couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty when she felt the hurt coursing through Togata.

Meanwhile, Mirio shoved the hurt away and looked on in determination at the challenge that was walking away. Next time he wouldn’t let her walk away so easily, he promised as his eyes burned and sparkled.

July

Y/N drew a makeshift figure of Togata’s face on her notebook before she viciously started stabbing the drawing. ‘Stupid Togata, why can’t he get that he’s not wanted’ she thought. She threw a glare at the pretty arrangement of flowers on her desk. Every morning there was a new bouquet waiting for her on the desk. It attracted a lot of unwanted attention from her fellow classmates. At first, she threw all of them away in the garbage in a fury. But, over time the arrangements became more complicated and more beautiful than the last and her heart couldn’t bear the thought of throwing them away. So, she took it upon herself to donate it to Recovery girl’s office. She knew the older women appreciated them. Y/N saved the scattered chocolates in the bouquet for herself before dropping off the peony flowers at the Pro Hero’s clinic.

As Y/N walked to the lunchroom, she was interrupted when Togata came through the walls and in front of her.

“Y/N! Do you want to eat with me today? I brought a bento," Togata asked.

She looked down on her own bento and wondered how he knew that she was going to bring her own lunch today.

“Are you a psycho? How many times do I have to say no to you before you get it through your head?”

“I’ll keep asking until you say yes. I won’t ever take no for answer,” he cheerfully replied.

Y/N felt the fury inside of her build up and her face became tomato red. “Time to die, Togata.” She stepped towards him before tripping on her foot and her entire bento fell on the ground. She watched in shock at the hard work that had gone wasted and she turned towards Togata and sent him a death glare. Togata fearing for his life, slipped his bento into her hands before bolting out of the hallway. He activated his quirk and vanished through the walls.

 August

Y/N panted as sweat dripped down her face. She’s never felt so tired in her life yet so energized. The roar of the crowd helping her forget the aches and pains of the fight. Togata wasn’t even winded as he stood across from her.  This was the revenge she wanted. The second round of the battle tournament of the Sports Festival.

 “Come on, Togata. Give me everything you have. Otherwise, I swear I won’t ever forgive you. I’ve given everything to be here. So, extend that courtesy to me,” Y/N said.

She knew he wasn’t taking her seriously. Though, she landed a few hits and gave 100% percentage to her energy attacks. She couldn’t say the same for him. His punches and his overall speed were too slow. She knew he was capable of being faster than what he was displaying right now. Her words affected him, as his face lost the pensive look and a look of concentration overcame it.

She remembered the humiliating defeat by him in second year. A blonde blur, a scream of “Poweeeerrr!” and Y/N was knocked out of the ring. She wasn’t even able to display her growth or how much she improved from the 1st year.

However, this year Y/N showcased everything she learned in U.A. and she showed everyone in Japan that Y/N was ready to be a Pro Hero. When she would lose to Mirio and she knew she was going to, Y/N had no regrets.

Y/N raised her hands to gather the energy from the LED lights in the arena as they blew out one by one overwhelmed by her quirk. She felt the energy rush through her body and readied herself for a charge at Mirio. This time she would lose on her own terms.

 September

Y/N sat nervously on Mirio’s dorm room bed and watched as he scrambled around his room to get her birthday gift. She had gone home last weekend to spend her birthday with her family, so this was the only time Mirio had to give it to her. His relationship with her was still pensive. Y/N didn’t scream at him to leave her alone and she stopped calling him Togata. Most of all that bitterness dissolved after the Sports Festival, there was no reason to keep him at arm’s length anymore. Still, there was a degree of unsureness, Mirio being too afraid to set her off again and she too unexperienced on how to properly convey her feelings.

Mirio came back with a small gift bag that he held out for her. Y/N took and peered into it to see an assortment of chocolate.

“Remember how I would send you those bouquets and you never kept them except for the chocolate in it? I thought this time I would give you something you would want to keep.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle. Mirio smiled goofily in return, satisfied that he had made her happy. She wanted to do something in return to show him how happy she was. Y/N leaned forward to kiss him on his cheeks, while at the same time Mirio purposely turned his face so she could kiss his lips instead.

The touch of his soft lips quickly made Y/N break contact. She turned her blushing face away and was about to quickly run out of his room in embarrassment, when Mirio grabbed her and mashed his face into hers. Their teeth clanged together, and it was soon clear neither had any idea on how to kiss.

Y/N pushed Mirio away and clutched her lips and teeth.

“Mirio! Why did you do that?!” She could feel embarrassment surging within him and a small ounce of shame for hurting her. Feeling bad for her overreaction, Y/N grabbed his hands and pulled him close.

“I-I think we should try again and maybe a little bit slower. Like how they do on TV dramas,” she said as she coaxed him into trying again.

Mirio gave her a small peck, withdrawing to see Y/N’s reaction. She nodded in encouragement, excited he continued to slowly give her kisses that caused her to chase him and eagerly respond to his ministrations. He caressed her cheeks and snaked his hand down to her waist to pull her close. Licking her lips and asking for permission to enter, Mirio entangled his tongue with hers as it sensuously made contact and cajoled her to respond. Following Mirio’s lead she responded back to each lick, feeling her body get hotter and hotter. Wanting to get closer to his body, she sat on top him and wrapped her legs around his waist. They continued to slowly kiss; Y/N liked this attempt immensely compared to their first one. Mirio wanting to feel her, grabbed Y/N’s hand and placed it on his member. Y/N curiously touched it, wondering what she was touching that was so hard and warm. She broke contact from his lips and looked down at her hand. ‘OH MY GOD. I’M Touching A MAN’s PENIS!’ she thought hysterically. She poked it a couple times, finding it rock solid and admiring the length of it. Her tiny hands couldn’t even fit most of it. Mirio startled her out of thoughts when he placed his hands onto hers and started moving them along with him.

“Like this, Y/N, ok?”

Y/N short-circuited realizing what Mirio was asking from her. ‘Oh god, we are doing this now? Are we going to have sex!! That thing is going to fit inside of me? I’m going to die!!’ her thoughts spiraled and made Y/N panic. She quickly disentangled herself from Mirio, ignoring his grunt and his confused call of her name. Y/N grabbed her gift, not forgetting to say a quick thank you to Mirio before hightailing it out of his room and back to the sanctity of her own dorm.  

 December

Y/N waited anxiously outside in the cold, windy afternoon. Yesterday’s snowfall had already covered the entirety of the park, most kids were playing in the snow. Either making snowman or trying to hit their friends with snowballs. She huffed out a few breaths, watching as her warm exhales became smoke. She overheard footsteps and saw Mirio heading her way. Y/N sighed, relieved that he had showed up. Ever since a month ago Mirio had lost his quirk and Sir Nighteye, he had been avoiding her. She wasn’t the best person when it came to comfort, so she figured he needed time on his own. But as weeks went by without any sight of his blond hair or blue eyes, she couldn’t help but worry. So, Y/N had tracked him down and called him out during lunchtime just like he did so many months ago and made him promise to meet at the local park so they could talk things out.

She stood up to greet him, but he just motioned for her to sit back down and took a seat besides her on the park bench.

“Hey, Mirio. How have you been? We haven’t talked in a while,” Y/N cautiously began.

“Well, you are my soulmate. You probably know better than me how I’ve been this past month,” Mirio said quietly.

It was true, she felt his sorrow and loss like an aching pain in her chest. Y/N knew he went around school acting happy go lucky, but she knew he couldn’t fool her or himself.

“That’s true and its probably why I was so worried-“ Y/N began.

Mirio interrupted, “Worried? Why? You must be happy that I lost my quirk. No more competition!” He let out a weak chuckle.

Y/N couldn’t help the hurt that rose in her despite it being a fair assessment. She had treated him terribly, the fact he was lashing out at her now just showed how much patience Mirio really had. She swallowed the lump that had arose from her needing to cry because this wasn’t about her or her feelings now.

She turned to him, watching as his face twisted with guilt and he opened his mouth. Y/N cut him off.

“I know. You can throw everything at me, Mirio. I will take it if that’s what it takes for you to feel better. I don’t know what to do or what to say to make you feel like your old self again. I’m not good at any of this. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to be alone. Don’t shut me out,” she pleaded.

Y/N saw the way the shine returned to his dull eyes and the soft blush that made its way to his face. He was looking at her like he had never seen her before. She could feel her own cheeks heat up due to the unnerving way he was looking at her. Mirio leaned forward as if to kiss her when Y/N put a hand to his chest to stop him and turned her face away.

“We can’t we’re in a park. There’s too many people,” she whispered.

Mirio let out a boyish giggle. “Right, sorry.”

She toyed with her fingers as a thought occurred to her. “Do you wanna go to my house instead? It’s nearby, we can warm up and get some hot chocolate.”

Mirio at the thought of seeing the place where Y/N had grown up shyly agreed. They both got up and walked for 15 minutes before coming to a modest house. She unlocked the outdoor gate and let them both in. They went up the steps before Y/N unlocked the door.

“No one’s home it’s just me,” she said as she turned the house’s light on and started to prepare some hot chocolate for them both.

Mirio made himself home in the living room as he snooped around and looked at the various pictures of a younger Y/N. She came back with 2 hot chocolates. Mirio thanked her and steadily drank the hot chocolate. Y/N sat next to him and observed him as she finished hers. Though, her earlier words lifted his mood, she could tell that her distraction was only temporary.

“Mirio,” she began as he looked up at her, “I wish I could do more for you. I feel everything, all your pain and I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. I wish I can take it away even just for a while.”

Mirio looked at her seriously and put his drink on coffee table. He grabbed Y/N’s drink and put that on the table as well. She just looked at him in confusion as she hadn’t finished yet. Mirio grabbed her by the waist and pulled her close. Y/N blushed at their proximity as her breasts were squished against his firm chest.

“I know what you can do for me, Y/N..,” he trailed off as he leaned in close to kiss her. She closed her eyes as his soft lips connected. She could taste the remnants of the hot chocolate on his lips as she desperately responded back. She clutched him tightly as she couldn’t remember the last time he held and kissed her. Y/N didn’t think it was possible to miss someone so much who wasn’t her immediate family let alone someone she used to hate. Her fingers dug into his soft hair as she tightened her hold and pulled. Mirio let out a groan in response and rolled his hips into hers. He disengaged from her and quickly kissed her cheeks, forehead, and nose in succession.

Mirio panted. “Y/N, please I need you.” She blushed as she knew what he was asking from her. “I-I’ve never…,” she trailed off.

“Neither have I, we’ll go slow. I promise I won’t hurt you,” he said. Y/N nodded, giving him consent. Mirio pushed back one of the curls on her face and brought her close enough for him to kiss. Giving a nip to her lips, he explored the inside of her mouth, still tasting the chocolate. She moaned into the kiss and messed with the hoody he was wearing, trying to get to the smooth skin underneath. He tried to help her take off while still kissing her hard. He broke away in frustration when the hoody wouldn’t budge.

“Wait maybe we should take this to my room,” she suggested. He liked the idea at least they would know beforehand if they were about to get interrupted.

Mirio tried to get Y/N to let him carry her bridal style up the stairs like in the movies, but she adamantly refused. She led them to a very pink and feminine room unlike the fierce Y/N he had gotten to know. Y/N stood in awkward silence not knowing what to do when they had arrived in the room. Mirio taking the lead, took off his hoody and his jeans. He immediately went over to Y/N to help her take off her clothes. She tried to protest but it got muffled by a kiss.

Hoisting Y/N in his arms, he dropped her delicately onto her bed. It was medium size just enough room for both. Mirio couldn’t help himself as he let his hands roam the entirety of her soft skin. Her heaving breasts caught his attention as she looked at him with dilated eyes. He tugged the cups of the bra just a tiny bit for her cleavage to spill over, He bit and sucked them, leaving red marks all over. Y/N let out a whimper as he continued his ministration on the other breast. Mirio moved her legs aside, allowing his body to settle in nicely between her thighs. Slipping his fingers into her panties, he immaturely explored her.

“Like this,” she said as she showed him what she liked best. Wanting to see all of her, he slipped off her panties and snapped off her bra with ease, tossing them somewhere in the room. The two teens continued to explore every inch of their soulmate. From the beginning they were connected by their minds and hearts, now they were crossing the final threshold of their bodies. Preparing Y/N had paid off as he inspected his fingers that were wet with her essence. Curious he tasted the wetness and discovered he liked the tangy flavor. He wanted to lick up all of it, to savor the taste, but that was something he wanted to try out in the future. Mirio shimmied out of his boxers as he lined up his member with her center. He felt her tense, so he whispered reassurances as he stroked her face.

Y/N felt his member slip a few times before he finally got it into her. The initial pinch startled her before she forced herself to breath and relax. Mirio didn’t lie, he went slow prioritizing her needs over his own. Y/N hardly felt a pinch when he broke through her membrane and filled her up to the brim. She raked her short nails down his back, causing him to buck into her. She gasped at the sudden movement.

“Y/N, don’t do that, love,” he panted into her neck.  Y/N flushed at the impromptu nickname Mirio had bestowed upon her.

He waited a few minutes before trying out short, shallow thrusts to see if she flinched in pain and seeing her writhe and moan gave him the signal to move.

Mirio tried out different rhythms to see what she liked first, matching his thrusts to her reactions. When he lifted up her hips a bit and hit a particular spot that had her gasping and tightening her hold on the bedsheets, he hit that spot over and over in a frenzy. It wasn’t long before Y/N became a babbling mess as she came all over his penetrating member.

SLAM

Mirio lifted his head up in confusion when he heard the slam of a door and muffled talking.

“Y/N! Is that you? Okasan and Otousan are home. Come downstairs we brought food!” Y/N’s mother called out.

Y/N looked at Mirio in panic. She tried to push him off so she could get dressed and go downstairs to greet her parents.

Instead he held her hips tight as he slammed into her over and over, muffling his moans by biting onto her shoulder.

“Mirio! Ahh, what are you doing? We’ll get caught,” she said.

Letting her shoulder go, he whispered back, “just a little more I’m so close.”

When she didn’t say anything else, Mirio took as a sign to keep going so he chased his own pleasure. It wasn’t too long before he pulled out and came in the junction of her thighs.

Luckily for the teens, they were both able to get dressed and downstairs in time for Y/N to introduce Mirio as her soulmate. Her parents were delighted to meet him, and Y/N flushed with happiness knowing that her parents approved of him. Though, she didn’t notice how her mother kept sending them suspicious glances when she noticed the bite mark on Y/N’s neck.

 March

Mirio’s tousan watched in absolute happiness as his son graduated from U.A. Who knew his son would one day graduate from the most prestigious hero school in Japan?

He looked around for his tall, blonde son as many graduates filled in from the auditorium outside in the sun to find their parents.

He finally found his wayward son and was about to call out to him when he noticed his son holding and teasing a girl. She seemed very frustrated, gesturing wildly and pointing at him in anger. Mirio just laughed and hugged her. What was even more astonishing was that Mirio kissed her forehead and the girl blushed and yelled at him some more before she stomped away. So that was his soulmate.

He remembered how his son came home one day in jubilation and explained everything in one breath. Though, Mirio seem to be disheartened when he explained how his soulmate didn’t seem to like him. Mirio’s tousan just laughed in glee and Mirio watched him in confusion.

He went on to explain how Mirio’s okasan hated him at first glance and threw a glass of water at him when she discovered her soulmate. He remembered how each day he would do everything to win her heart over and he encouraged Mirio to do the same. He smiled now knowing that Mirio had won his soulmate over just like he did his.

[ecbenvolio]

So Long Mother Earth

“What’s the one thing you’ll miss about Earth? And you can not say your family or friends,” Zeon’s face fills the comm screen. They have a mischievous smile on their lips.

“Oh, that’s an easy one,” Jules responds, “Ice cream.”

Zeon’s smile morphs into a look of confusion. “Ice...scream?”

Absently Jules twirls a finger around one of her locs and tries to hide her smile. “No. Ice cream. It’s an Earth dessert. I know I’ve told you about it, Ze.”

Zeon’s species has this quirk. When they are embarrassed or feel any type of strong emotion, the crest across their forehead blushes a strong cyan hue. Jules notices that ever so slightly Ze’s forehead has changed color. They’ve always prided themself on their stellar memory. It’s funny how an innocent sentence can be interpreted a certain way in another culture.

Jules continues on “I won’t go into specifics on how it’s made. You’ll probably find it a bit gross anyway.”

Zeon leans forward. “Why will you miss it so much?”

Her eyes stray from the communicator screen toward the window in the terminal. It’s winter on this side of the Earth. She traveled down here as it was the location of the soonest shuttle to the space station. But if she was home right now, she’d be with her friends hanging out in the city, getting ice cream from her favorite stand in Stratford, walking along the boardwalk by the ocean. She’d learned to fall in love with that sensation of sweet vanilla on her tongue, and the feeling of her best friends’ arms around her shoulders. The sand between her toes.

“There’s no ice cream on Egeon. Or beaches for that matter.” Zeon points out. “Are you sure you’ll be happy here?”

Jules eyes snap back to the comm screen. Ze’s brow is knit together with worry as if the two had not spent the better part of a year discussing this trip. As if Jules hadn’t already gone through months of space training and other classes prior to getting on a plane and coming closer to the Antarctic than she dare to imagine. As if her shuttle didn’t leave tomorrow.

She smiles. “I’m sure, Zeon. Earth may have many things I’ve learned to enjoy, but I’m sure Egeon will too. Besides, there is one thing that Earth has always been missing that I’m looking forward to seeing…”

“And that is?” they ask seriously.

“It’s you, silly.”

………

That would be the last time Zeon and Jules would be able to talk for a while, but that was the least of her worries.

Comm access was expensive but not unattainable on Egeon, a planet that acted as a communication hub for half the galaxy. It was of Egeon that instantaneous communication was discovered decades ago. It was the only reason that someone like Jules, a 29 year old microblogger, could even get in contact with someone like Zeon, a communications major a million-something lightyears away.

While Earth could receive communications from Egeon and other planets from the outskirts of the Milky Way, it was costly. It would not be a problem once Jules was on Egeon. The problem was the five-year journey to get there. What would seem like six months to Jules during lightspeed travel would be a half a decade in the eyes of her friends and family.

Jules left the comm terminal reluctantly and walked back down the path to her hotel room. One more night before take-off. There were many things that she could do one her last night on Earth, but at the moment there was only one thing she wanted to do.

The hotel room was small but a warm welcome from the cold. She immediately gets onto the bed, wraps herself in covers, and pulls out her phone. There’s a moment of hesitation but she selects a familiar contact.

The phone rings and rings but no one picks up. It’s not unexpected. They didn’t make any plans to call each other, but Jules was sure she’d at least want to get the last word in.

She hangs up with a sigh and sits there for a minute. Five minutes. Ten.

Then Jules makes a decision. She turns one the phone’s camera and switches it to video mode.

Here’s the thing: Jules doesn’t enjoy looking at her reflection. She rarely takes self-portrait photos. As a result, it’s a bit disorienting to see her face in the camera lens. Brown skin, big brown eyes set slightly too far apart for her liking, but Zeon thinks are gorgeous because the color doesn’t exist among Egeonians. Her hair is in fresh locs ready for a hassle free six month journey. There’s a deep scar on her forehead that she doesn’t remember getting but will stay with her for the rest of her life.

She takes a deep breath and hits record.

“To my dearest mother,” she says, “ I’m usually not one to record myself, but I figure since you won’t be seeing me for a while it was okay to make an exception.”

She pauses, licks her lips, and thinks.

“It’s my last night on Earth and I thought it would be nice to hear your voice? The last time I heard it you were angry and maybe a little confused. You called me too young and a fool and selfish and...well a lot of things. I think I understand where you were coming from. Maybe. Maybe if I was in your position I’d feel the same way. Your feelings are valid. But your accusations are wrong. I’m an adult. I’m being pragmatic. And that selfish bit? Let’s not throw stones from glasshouses.

“I’m not mad at you, but I am disappointed. I’ve found joy in my life and wanted to share it with you. Instead, I’m having a one-sided conversation in the middle of the night with my smartphone.

“Egeon is over 90 billion lightyears away. Once I’m settled there, I should be able to hook you and granddad up with lightspeed comm access so you can watch the wedding in real-time. If you want. It’ll be five years from next month, so plan ahead. You’ll be retired by then, right?

“...I’ll miss you. And granddad. And tell Mia I’m sorry for missing her first day at college, and her graduation from college. I wish I had something profound to say, but I don’t. So...talk to you later. Love you. And so long Mother Earth.”

[fallenrepublick]

I need some adorable as stars fluff for Feral! So, basically, he either lives or escaped (you choose) and finds himself on shili, the togruta homeworld. Fast forwards several years (savage lives!), when savage and maul are actually on Shili(for whatever reason), and Savage sees a small child, hale togruta and half zabrak and follows them to their home....where there is Feral, who actually has a wife, and a family, three sons and a daughter on the way. Overall, adorable family fluff and reunion!!

This was hard as fuck to write

And not just because I spent twenty minutes calculating the distance between Dathomir and Shili and determining that it would take someone four days, ten hours, and nine minutes to get there through lightspeed with a class 4 hyperdrive.

Warnings: None probably

It was the biggest stroke of luck he’d ever heard of. Having been tipped off by an elder Night Brother who was tired of losing so many of his people’s lives, it occurred to Feral that Savage being taken away tipped his odds of survival against him, and his best shot would be to leave while his head was still on his shoulders.

He scrambled away from the village, taking one last look at the place that was once his home. The creaking buildings and aged bridges that spanned the area gave him a strange sense of dread, as if the place was more of a prison than a place of comfort. The only positive memories he had of the place was when Savage was with him, but now that he was gone, there was no point in staying.

In terms of getting off-planet, there weren’t many options. The barren rust-hued landscape was a good option for ships to land on if anyone came down to see the Night Sisters for one reason or another, but those instances occurred few and far between. Ducking behind large rocks and sprinting across the open spaces, his eyes scanned the terrain for anything that might be useful. He’d be grateful for even a speeder if he found one.

The ground shook, the sand and rocks that peppered the stony floor beneath his feet clicking as they trembled. His balance threatened to give out with the tremors, but he held fast, waiting for it to subside. He took it as a sign that his window of opportunity was waning, and as the sun lowered on the horizon, it took with it his chances of escape. Sometime soon, they would notice he was gone, and if that happened when he was still nearby, they’d find him almost immediately. He thought of Savage and what he must be going through, subjected to Talzin’s magic and Ventress’s undeniable cruelty. He wondered if Savage was still thinking about protecting him, and the guilt began settling over his hearts. If he hadn’t been so weak and foolish, maybe Savage wouldn’t have been taken away. Maybe they’d still be together.

Shaking it off, he convinced himself that his fear and regrets had to be dealt with later. He continued on his path, now with a more fervent sense of urgency and mild panic. Across the way, backlit by the sunset, sat a ship, dark and old, most likely belonging to someone the Sisters had killed long ago. His hearts raced as he hurried to the vehicle, climbing into the cockpit, whose front window had been covered in dust by ages of heat and harsh rock storms. He wiped away at the glass and pressed the buttons on the console, practically begging it to start up.

“C’mon, c’mon…” he groaned, the dead dashboard causing an ache in his chest. “Just one more miracle, please.”

The console came to life, the rumbling of the engine in the ship soothing his fears. He smiled to himself, unsure if it was luck, or the ship, or some benevolent god that had listened. Regardless, he took hold of the controls and began his ascent. The ship rose through the atmosphere, and he was whisked out, passing the clouds above and entering the starry cavern of space above him, leaving his past and dangers behind. When he turned around to watch the planet shrink into oblivion, he thought he saw a small spec of green light pulsing from the surface.

He didn’t really have a plan beyond his escape. In all fairness, he hadn’t thought he would get so far as to actually escape unscathed, and now, floating around the vast emptiness that had before seemed so far away, he wasn’t sure what to do or where to go.

Pulling up a map stored in the ship’s database, he was painfully aware that his fuel wouldn’t last forever, so a decision had to be made. Ultimately, it boiled down to only a few systems that were nearby enough to reach, but not too nearby that he’d be easily tracked down. His target landed on Shili, a planet located in the Ehosiq Sector within the Expansion Region. Traveling coreward would give him a better chance, since it was rare that any of the people that might want to find him would dare travel in that direction. Further, the planet was under the control of the Galactic Republic, and had been since the Republic’s earliest years. He might not be noticed there, but the people sent to look for him definitely would be.

Over four days of travel and lots of contemplation about his next move later, he exited hyperspace and gradually lowered onto the planet’s surface, the environment lush and green, plants and trees sprouting up from the ground around him, almost inviting him to come and at least rest for a while.

He leapt out of the ship, taking in the scenery. He’d never seen anything so… alive. His planet had been horribly gloomy, the only living creatures he interacted with either his brothers or viscous, territorial creatures that wanted nothing to do with him except probably eat him.

In front of his ship stood a tall tree that caught his eye, though not for its height, but instead for the person that stood behind it. She was a togruta, a native to the planet, striped head-tails falling over her shoulders and on her back, light green skin almost blending in with the flora that seemed to encase her. He wasn’t sure what to do in the situation, mouth opening to say something, but no words coming out as he found himself unable to find anything worth saying.

“Hello,” the woman offered, still half-hiding herself behind the plants. “Who are you?”

Shocked at her forwardness and his lack thereof, Feral snapped to attention, straightening himself to seem more approachable, or at least vaguely respectable. He doubted it was working. “I-I’m Feral,” he replied, trying to make it sound like he wasn’t nervous. “I was, uh, trying to escape my planet. Y-You see, there were people after me and, w-well it all started because-”

“You’re hurt? Hungry?” she asked him simply. “You can come back to my town if you need help.”

Help. It wasn’t an entirely foreign concept, but this would be the first time in his life that he would be accepting it from someone that wasn’t Savage. Saying yes felt… wrong, but he was in no position to deny it.

“If… If it’s not too much trouble, maybe I could stay there for a while? At least to get my bearings straight.” he responded finally, brushing himself off and rubbing the back of his neck, unsure if what he was doing was even allowed.

The girl snickered a bit at his nervousness and hesitation. “I offered, didn’t I?” Spinning on her heel, she tread through the woods, assumingly towards her village. Feral scrambled to catch up with her, following her every step over fallen branches and various plants. Wish as he may to make conversation, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

Thus, the journey was silent, save for the occasional warnings about ditches and hazards that lay on the path. But Feral found himself unable to contain his amazement when they reached their destination, the design of the buildings unlike anything he’d seen before, and an overwhelming sense of comfort in its inhabitants seeping into his own skin. Sloping architecture mirrored the look of Togruta head-tails, and the vibrant colors blended into the environment as if they occurred naturally.

She led him to a smaller building to the side, a lone point situated far from the chaos of the general populous. As colorful as the outside was, the interior was relatively unassuming, simple 

yet comfortable furniture peppering the floor, mostly made of wood and natural materials. He sat at the table near the kitchen, fidgeting as he did.

“I never asked your name…” he offered, trying not to meet her eyes as she walked about her space, gathering various food items.

“Madin. Yours?” She didn’t look up, clearly deliberating between one biscuit or another. She eventually shrugged and decided on both.

“Feral…” he said softly as she set food in front of him. Silence followed, and as Madin sat across from him confidently, he realized that he had no idea how to have an actual conversation.

“You seem so nervous,” she laughed. “I don’t bite. Most of the time.”

“I don’t want to be too much of a problem,” Feral said, his voice shaking slightly. “A-And th-the fact that you don’t really know me may seem like an issue or-”

“From what I can tell,” she began, tracing a finger along the edge of the table. “You have a…” She thought for a moment. “Behm d’ghe. A heart of warmth.”

He laughed nervously. “Well, I do have two of them.”

“Hearts of warmth, then.”

--

“Remind me again what we’re doing here, brother?” Savage asked as he sat in the cockpit of the ship, accelerating in the direction of their new destination.

Grumbling, Maul removed his feet from the dashboard and turned to his brother. “The planet is relatively defenseless, and as far as I’m concerned, taking it over to add to Mandalore’s power base is nothing short of beneficial to us. Got it?”

Savage’s expression was reminiscent of someone who did not, in fact, get it, but he didn’t bother arguing. Whatever Maul was up to was clearly better suited to his mind than anyone else’s.

Landing on the surface of Shili, Maul exited the ship and began walking away, turning back only to tell Savage, “Stay here until I return.”

Obliging his brother’s order, Savage stood beside the ramp, eyes glazing over the environment. Everything was bright and colorful, almost too much so, and he found himself wanting to leave at the first opportunity he saw. That is, until he saw something that gave him pause.

A child. And it looked… like him. Small and carefree, the male Zabrak wasn’t just a zabrak. Instead of horns were a pair of short, striped head-tails that framed his round face. When Savage approached him, he beamed, eager to speak to him.

“Whoah!” the boy exclaimed when he saw Savage in front of him. “You look a little like my father!” The thought that went through Savage’s mind upon hearing that had to be pushed down, as it was impossible. Though a hint of it lingered in the back of his head. “C’mere, I’ll show you!” The child turned and began running in the direction of his home.

Hesitant to follow the child, Savage worried about Maul returning soon to find him gone, but his curiosity overpowered it, and he found himself behind the child anyways. Instead of logic, Savage began trying to reason through all of the ways his assumption could be correct. After all, he hadn’t seen him after being taken away by Ventress, so his fate was still unknown.

In front of the boy’s house, two more boys that looked very similar to his guide ran to and fro, playing with sticks and yelling about winning some game or another. A woman stood to the side, visibly pregnant and holding a hand on her stomach, smiling and laughing as she spoke. Savage stopped walking, no longer trusting the vision before him.

Feral looked up, spotting Savage’s presence out of the corner of his eye. Almost immediately, his eyes lit up, mouth widening into the biggest smile Savage had ever seen on him. He began rushing towards his brother, Savage hurrying to meet him halfway.

“Savage!” he exclaimed holding onto the sides of his brother’s arms. “You got taller!”

“You were here the whole time…” Savage trailed off, still wary of what he was experiencing. Feral had become noticeably healthier, stronger and more confident in how he held himself. He was almost unrecognizable.

“I got lucky.” He looked over at the woman who had come up beside him. “And then I got luckier. Savage, this is Madin. She helped me when I first got here and then…”

“And then he wound up stuck with me the rest of his life,” Madin hummed. “The three monsters are Terren, Forta, and Uta. In that order. This here is going to be Shin, the only girl, unfortunately for me.” She rubbed her stomach thoughtfully.

Savage was frozen in place. Everything had changed so quickly, and though he should have expected it, he had half-wanted Feral to stay the same. But now, with his new responsibilities to Maul and his seemingly never-ending schemes, he was glad Feral had found his place.

He stepped forward and hugged Feral, practically lifting him off the ground as he did so. “I still can’t believe it!” Being set down, Feral rubbed his chest to return the air to his lungs. Savage motioned to the house. “I must hear everything about your life now.”

Maul’s mission would just have to wait.

[dibleopard-writes]

Training Montage

Ao3 (recommended)

Description: Anakin was the Chosen One and therefore the best padawan anyone could ask for, especially Master Obi-Wan. He was so good, in fact, that he had plenty of time for shenanigans or, as he privately referred to them, Shenanakins. Force, he was clever. Several snippets from the training of Anakin Skywalker. Author’s Note: Fanfiction, in 2020? It's more likely than you think. I'm working on several Star Wars projects right now, and here's one that is far less structured with far less need for in depth planning. Original Upload Date: 2020-08-27 Fandom: Star Wars Prequels (post TPM, pre AotC) Characters: Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi, various side characters Rating: Gen (or T for language) Warnings: Swearing, Canon-typical Violence Word Count: 6490

Chapter 1 of ??

Chapter 1: Moles? In My Mine? It's More Likely Than You Think.

At the age of five, Anakin resolved to never be the kind of moody teenager spacers complained about. At the age of twelve, he decided that not only was that naive of him, but that he would get a head start and be moody right that second.

This change of heart was mostly due to Obi-Wan, who was refusing to take any missions offworld with him even though Anakin got his own lightsaber a whole three weeks ago and was therefore completely qualified.

“Having a lightsaber doesn’t help diplomacy, Padawan,” said Obi-Wan, completely missing the point.

“So don’t choose diplomatic missions! I bet there are hundreds of pirates hanging around… I don’t know, Batuu.”

“Batuu has smugglers, not pirates, Anakin–”

“– And?! We can arrest smugglers–”

“– And anyway, it would be irresponsible of me to take a padawan as young as yourself into a confrontation like that.”

“I’m not nine anymore! I’m not some dumb initiate, I can handle pirates.” If he was the first in his classes to fight pirates, he’d be able to hold it over them for ages. Even Iepa would have to respect him, smug son of a–

“I was still an initiate when I was your age.”

“Well I’m sorry you sucked, but that doesn’t mean I can’t go on missions.”

By this point, Master Obi-Wan had his head in his hands, almost hiding the beard he was trying to grow in order to look more authoritative. Anakin didn’t think he’d respect him any more with a beard than without, but it did make him look less like a clueless teenager so maybe he could fool the senior padawans.

“Look, if I took you offworld, not only could you get hurt or cause a diplomatic incident, but Master Windu would be on my back about it.”

Anakin muttered, “I could take him.”

“What was that?”

“I said you wouldn’t be able to shake him.” Anakin believed both statements emphatically. Sure, Mace Windu was the Master of the Order and invented an entire lightsaber form, but Anakin was the Chosen One, which basically made him the best. That being said, if Master Windu put his mind to it, he could be annoyingly stubborn in his pursuit of wrong-doers.

“My point exactly, and if he decided I was irresponsible – which I would be – we’d both be Temple-bound for months.”

“Oh, so you get to leave and I don’t?”

“Yes, but I’m sure you noticed I haven’t left because I’ve been too busy looking after you.”

“And what an amazing job you’ve been doing.”

“Watch your tone, young one.”

“Tell me, Master, do you remember any of my allergies?”

“Allergies?” Obi-Wan stopped for a second, with a look of genuine concern and guilt working its way over his face as he failed to recall information that Anakin had never given him.

“Yeah, I’m allergic to you and your banthashit!”

“Language, Padawan!” There was something resembling anger in Obi-Wan’s glare, but to acknowledge that would be sacrilege and also a suggestion that Anakin cared, which he didn’t. To prove this, he stormed into his room and used the Force to slam the pneumatic door as pneumatic doors rarely do.

Force, Obi-Wan could be insufferable sometimes.

...

After an hour of staring at the ceiling, Anakin came to the decision that the only real resolution to this conflict was running away and being a Jedi without Obi-Wan to bring him down. 

Fortunately, he had spent the last two years building his very own ship and had already put it through an entire test run without anything breaking. Between his technical expertise and thorough testing, the ship was probably the best in the entire Temple hangar.

First though, putting his stealth skills through their paces in order to get there. One doesn’t survive nine years of slavery without knowing how to move silently. The swoosh of the door may have been a bad start, but his slow navigation of the common room more than made up for it. Sure, Obi-Wan was in his own room, probably, like, crying over getting owned so hard, but if Anakin had made even the slightest mistake, he would have come running and demanded a ridiculous amount of meditation on respecting others. The stakes could not have been higher.

He crept out of their rooms and into the corridor, shushing the mouse droid that seemed to regard him judgmentally despite its lack of eyes. From there, it was a simple matter of carrying himself with unquestionable confidence along a convoluted path to the hangar. He passed a few senior padawans with dead eyes and piles of holopads in their arms without raising suspicion. Man, was he good at this.

The hangar was probably the best place in the Temple. Warm Temple stone met flame retarding durasteel in a way that shouldn’t have worked as well as it did. Several decade-old speeders lined up against one wall next to a small fleet of cargo ships and fighters. All of them were horrendously out of date and well worn in the way that a lot of the Temple’s technology was. When Anakin asked why the Jedi insisted on having such terrible tech, Obi-Wan had said something vague about budget and not being materialistic. It was unconvincing at best and Anakin had really shown the whole Order up with his latest project.

After his no-doubt legendary podracer was left on Tatooine, Anakin had taken all of six months to set his sights on building a starfighter that could take him to every system in the galaxy. Obi-Wan, relieved to find a hobby that would promote focus, had pulled some strings and Anakin had aimed akk-dog eyes at the Temple mechanics that he had been tailing for months until they let him at the skeleton of an old Delta-7. Aethersprites never came with their own hyperspace engines, but he could work with that. Annoyingly, the sublight engines in the hangar were nothing like the ones on a podracer so he had to spend a humiliating few weeks with an old mechanic to get them installed and working. On the positive side, there was an astromech droid fitted directly into the ship that could give him diagnostics and occasionally a mechanically-themed joke. The jokes were hit-or-miss but the droid was good.

Two years of sterling work had made the Delta the best ship in the Temple, and it could far outpace any of the speeders in Coruscant’s skylanes. Now, as he made his way ever-so-innocently towards it, he couldn’t help but admire the way the smooth paint looked among the chipped facades of the rest.

R4-P3 chirped a greeting as he hopped in and prepped the starter engines.

“Hi, P3, fancy going on a trip?”

“THERE WERE TWENTY-SEVEN TRAFFIC CODE VIOLATIONS DURING THE PREVIOUS FLIGHT.”

“Me too, buddy. See if you can find one of those hyperspace rings lying around here.” Ignition was smooth. Vertical repulsors engaged. Landing gear retracted. So far, his plan was flawless. A blip appeared on his screen, indicating the nearest hyperspace ring. Latching onto the ring was not something he had ever practiced before, so he assumed the strange rattling noise was normal.

As he ascended, chatter buzzed into the comm system.

“What’s that P3?”

The chatter cleared into actual sentences as P3 adjusted the frequency.

“-ing is not fitted properly. Repeat, Aethersprite Delta-7 please identify yourself-” Anakin flicked it off. Trust traffic control to kill his flow.

“PLEASE KEEP TO DESIGNATED SKYLANES,” bleated P3, taking up the burden instead. Anakin dodged a passing CorSec speeder.

“Will do,” he lied, “While I find one, you wanna do the hyperspace calculations?”

“DESTINATION?”

“Uh…” He hadn’t thought that far. Tatooine was probably weeks away, Naboo had way too much water just lying about– Where else had he been? Oh, that’s right: nowhere, because Obi-Wan didn’t care about him. “Batuu?” He could probably beat up a few smugglers in the name of justice before the Jedi caught wind of it. Talk about selfless heroism.

He hit the upper flight levels and powered through into the mesosphere. Considering the thin air at this altitude, there was a lot of turbulence. The shaking was beginning to make his arm buzz and it became a disproportionate effort to keep the control-stick level.

“LIGHTSPEED CALCULATIONS COMPLETE,” announced P3.

“Great, just in time,” replied Anakin, flicking some switches, at least three of which were relevant, “I’ll just make the jump now.”

As he pulled the jump ignition, P3 began screaming and the rattling grew louder. The pinprick stars became needle-thin lines became the whirl of blue and white he hadn’t seen since the last journey from Naboo. On that trip, the pilots hadn’t let him in the cockpit during the initial jump, so this would probably have been way better if not for the awful clatter of the hyperdrive and the eventual tear of engines sputtering out of commission. Maybe that was why he had never seen anyone make jumps in-atmosphere. Or perhaps the issue was related to the ring’s latching mechanism. Really, it was anyone’s guess.

P3’s wails had become spluttering, staticky sobs, which was honestly a poor display in a droid with no fear subprogram. The ring flew off the Aethersprite, plunging it back into normal space with a roar.

“Well that sucked,” Anakin said indignantly. His flying had been flawless, too!

P3, between choked bleeps, lit up the speedometer – the hyperspace ring was no longer pushing them beyond the light limit but neither had any reverse-thrusters been engaged, leaving them at a healthy constant speed of only-just-slower-than-light, which was probably fine – and the scanner – there was a planet about thirty light-seconds in front of them, which was probably less fine at their current speed.

“Okay, so it still sucks,” Anakin amended.

He slammed on the brakes and almost blacked out as G-force slammed on him in return. Rude. His old pod-racer never had this issue. He tried easing their deceleration more slowly, which involved less blacking out but also made slowing to pedestrian speeds before hitting the planet somewhat less feasible.

No matter; Anakin was an expert pilot and even more skilled at having incredible luck. This would be easy.

Within twenty seconds, they hit nature’s drag chute: the atmosphere. P3 tried to draw Anakin’s attention to their steep angle and high speed as if these weren’t things that Anakin already knew. They did seem more relevant when the entire ship’s hull flew alight, however, so he attempted to shallow out their descent. 

The control-stick was uncooperative and everything began to shake as he tugged it as far back as he could. How was he supposed to pilot if the ship refused to do what he wanted it to do? 

After five long seconds, the heat died and they plunged into a cloud bank. Everything past the tips of the Aethersprite’s wings was obscured by a white thicker than Obi-Wan’s skull, which was impressive if disorienting. He felt the control-stick hit full lock and a few of the many warning indicators seemed appeased.

Another five seconds, and P3 stopped screaming about their speed and started screaming about their altitude. The clouds remained steadfast.

“I’ve made an executive decision,” declared Anakin, “As captain of this ship, I say we attempt what we in the industry call a ‘terrain-assisted braking maneuver’.”

P3 did not respond particularly coherently, which Anakin chose to interpret as a vote of confidence. It did wonders for his self-esteem.

In a blink, the clouds vanished and a deep green forest appeared. P3 squeaked. Anakin grimaced. His hand was losing all sensation from gripping the control-stick so tightly, still in full lock, but their downwards momentum still overpowered the thrusters even as the Delta’s nose finally rose above the horizon. He gunned the accelerator away from the surface and his body felt heavier than the ship itself.

The ship jolted as it made contact with the treetops. Anakin switched to reverse-thrusters as the nose once again pitched downwards. Slugshot snaps crackled around them as trees snapped against the ship. He scrunched his eyes closed and braced.

Soil and splinters erupted as they collided with the ground. Anakin lurched painfully into his safety straps. P3’s voice cut off. The grinding of earth against hull slowed them to a stop and Anakin fell back against his seat.

Smoldering wiring filled the cockpit with an awful acidic smell so he tugged his straps off and pushed his way out after only a second of shaky breathing. Anakin was nothing if not practical.

“Do you think it’s gonna blow up?” he asked P3 from a safe distance. P3 seemed not to appreciate the thought but ran cursory diagnostics anyway.

As he waited, Anakin looked behind the ship and saw the gaping furrow they had left in the ground. Further away, a clumsy cut ran through the trees and a couple of wisps of smoke trailed lazily into the milk-blue sky.

All in all, an impeccable landing. The forest had looked well dull before anyway, and now it had a sick scar. You’re welcome, forest.

P3 decided that nothing was about to explode, but that the ship was fully inoperational, even if Anakin just wanted to take it on a spin to the nearest mountain range. He acquiesced that the assessment seemed about right, but also loudly proclaimed that P3 was a killjoy and a coward. P3 didn’t seem to care. Anakin kicked a clod of earth in defiance.

The ground was covered in small, stiff leaves from the pointy-looking trees around them. They were waxy little spits that more resembled star stripes than anything useful for photosynthesis.  As he knelt to pick some up, he realised that the entire forest smelt like them – a fresh, emerald sort of smell. They were pretty incredible, for leaves; Anakin had certainly never seen anything like them. He shoved some in a belt pouch.

Now that he was looking at the ground, he noticed wooden, grenade-like things peppered amongst the leaf litter. This forest kept on getting more and more curious. Unfortunately, none of them would fit in his pouches. Jedi really needed some good pockets that could fit any important scientific discoveries in them. It was a severe oversight, in Anakin’s humble opinion.

Something rustled abruptly, snapping Anakin out of his Jedi-like contemplations, seed-pod still in hand. He scanned the surrounding thickets. Plants, plants, leaves, plants, thorny plants…

Claws!

A blur of red flew at his face and he stumbled backwards, tripping over a bush. Batting the wild beast away from his face, he felt himself fall further than anticipated through the undergrowth into empty air. For a suspended moment, all he could see was blue sky and grey rockface. Then his back collided with something that promptly gave way and let him fall onto solid stone.

Perfect.

...

Obi-Wan Kenobi was walking at an unpanicked pace through the halls of the Jedi Temple and casually inspecting child-sized nooks and crannies in a manner completely befitting of a master who knew exactly where his padawan was. He had been doing this for half an hour and wasn’t shaking in the slightest.

He was just doing a routine inspection of the gap between a bronzium statue and a wall when Master Windu walked past, stopped, watched Obi-Wan innocently test the screws on a ventilation covering, and said, “Knight Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan sprang upright. “Master Windu.”

“Have you lost your padawan?” Was he really that obvious? No, that couldn’t be it; Master Windu was just unusually perceptive. Perhaps shatter-points were giving him away – nowhere was it written that they didn’t highlight underperforming masters. Even so, it was probably wise not to confirm anything. The last thing Obi-Wan needed was a council member judging his guardianship skills.

“Oh no, not at all. I know exactly where he is.”

Master Windu’s expression was as flat as Anakin’s heart rate would be once this was over. Shatter-points were dirty snitches.

“Thank you for your concern, Master,” added Obi-Wan, respectfully.

Master Windu looked at him dead in the eye for a solid five seconds. Obi-Wan had seen him level a similar look at Qui-Gon several times in the past, and found it unnerving to now be the target. However, Qui-Gon’s experiences taught him that it was best to ride these looks out like a bad spice trip, i.e. with as little motion as possible. How either of them knew what a bad spice trip felt like was irrelevant.

The five seconds were up, only having been slightly uncomfortably stretched, and Master Windu blinked.

“Well,” he said, dryly, “Good luck with your endeavours, Knight Kenobi, whatever they may be.” With one spare glance to the ventilation covering, he continued down the corridor.

Obi-Wan was not naive enough to think himself completely free of suspicion but he was hopeful that nothing would come of it until he could thrust Anakin by the shoulders into Master Windu’s personal space and say ‘See? I have him right here!’ in a serene and Jedi-like manner as if he had nothing to prove. Of course, he would like to prove his capabilities anyway. Just as soon as Anakin was present…

He closed his eyes and fumbled for the Master-Padawan bond that connected him to Anakin. It wasn’t usually strong enough to get much other than vague impressions from, but now it seemed to be stretched thinner than usual, only telling him that Anakin was alive. That was a relief to know, to an extent, but also concerning since there was so little to point him in the right direction. He poked the bond and felt nothing.

Why had he taken on a padawan? Padawans get into fights and then run off and make you worry and then the Council finds out and then you have to try and justify it all and – 

Obi-Wan sighed. Running a hand over his beard, he peered down the hallway that Master Windu had taken. Empty. He could probably make it to the comms centre without any more councilmembers calling him out.

Probably. He was hopeful.

...

“Hilari? Is that you?” 

Anakin looked up from what appeared to be a now-dismantled porch tarp and saw an old man opening the door to its attached house, carved into rock. A tooka was watching him from behind the man’s legs. It meowed indignantly.

“I’ve told you, the awning isn’t designed for tookas.”

“Myaeeh,” complained Hilari.

Anakin, frazzled from both of his unplanned descents and shocked out of his irritation, opened his mouth to apologise because yes, Obi-Wan he is capable of apologising when a middle-aged twi’lek woman materialised.

“Wohrin, what– Oh! Who’s your young friend?”

“You’ve met Hilari before, Mahj–”

“No, the young man covered in your porch. Blond?” 

The man, Wohrin, gave Mahj’s left lek an exasperated look. His eyes were pale the same way Blind Man Mikah’s had been in the bookmaker’s in Mos Espa.

“Mahj,” he said slowly, “I don’t know what colour your hair is, let alone that of whoever it is you’re referring to.”

Mahj shook her head. “I don’t have hair, Wohrin.”

“What?!”

Another twi’lek, who could have been anywhere between fifteen and thirty years old by Anakin’s poor judgement, appeared in order to chip in:

“Yeah, she lost all of her hair when the sky turned red!”

Anakin squinted at the sky… no, it was definitely still blue. Wohrin looked equally confused, which was somewhat reassuring. Somewhat.

“Keht!” snapped Mahj, “Stop lying to people! And no, Wohrin, you know I’m twi’lek; of course I don’t have hair.”

“Twi’leks don’t… Why am I only just learning this? Was no one going to tell me–”

“I’m sorry, sir.” Anakin effectively drew the growing crowd’s attention back to himself. That felt better. Wohrin blinked, only now registering that the crash hadn’t been his tooka after all. “I was in the woods and something jumped out at me and I fell through your… thing.”

“Oh, well,” huffed Wohrin, “Easily done I suppose.”

Anakin clambered to his feet and hopped away from the mess, feeling only slightly guilty.

“Hey what’s with the weird rat-tail, kid?” came a voice from the crowd.

Anakin fixed the human who had asked with a patronising look. He found such looks were incredibly effective when used by children – especially those younglings he was stuck in aurebesh lessons with three years ago. Kriffing infuriating.

“It’s not a rat-tail, it’s a braid. And it shows that I’m a padawan.”

“A what-a-wan?”

“Oh, I know what they are,” chimed another bystander, “One of them beat up my cousin on Alsakan. They’re like really small Jedi.”

“You mean an apprentice?”

“Yeah, only I don’t think they do carving work.”

“Not all apprentices learn stonemasonry, genius.”

Another crowd member interrupted: “Hey, cadaban, have you come to help with the beast?”

That triggered a fervour in the onlookers, all snapping their attention back to him with loud expectation.

“... The what?” Anakin wasn’t sure he liked the way this conversation was going.

“The beast!” exclaimed the crowd.

“It’s massive–”

“–Taller than me–”

“–Big claws–”

“–In the quarry–”

“–The mine–”

“–Tentacles–”

“–Blue–”

“–Hang on, I thought it was red–”

“–It’s invisible–!”

“–No, it’s not, it’s–”

“–Firebreathing!”

“Hey, hey, hey,” shouted Anakin over the clamour, “Has anyone here actually seen it?” Everyone turned to a tall ovissian, who flinched. “What does it look like?”

“Uh, I didn’t see much of it, just– um, mostly heard crashes and saw– saw rocks falling from the ceiling in the mines. But when I caught a glimpse, it sort of looked all–” He made a vague and thoroughly unhelpful gesture which may have indicated size. Or maybe temperament. “–Y’know?”

Anakin definitely did not know, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the congregation. “Yeah, yeah, of course,” he said instead. The ovissian sighed with relief. “And what exactly do you need me to do about it?”

One exasperated person shouted from the back. “Kill it of course!” 

“Or at least move it out of the mines,” offered Mahj.

“Yeah, we need the mines or our economy will go to chisk!”

“The entire economy?” Anakin couldn’t imagine mines being quite that important when there was a massive forest right… Huh, it was higher up than he remembered. Right up a stone cliff, the one Wohrin’s home was carved out of.

“The entire economy! We’re a mining town, stone-masons and blacksmiths. Why else would build our houses in a quarry?”

This was the first Anakin had heard of ‘quarries’. Really, the whole trip so far had been quite the broadening of his horizons. He didn’t know why Obi-Wan didn’t take him off-world sooner, he was always promoting this kind of thing. Peculiar. 

That being said, this whole beast business was not what he had been anticipating and the idea of facing an invisible, firebreathing, tentacled monster on his own was suddenly way more terrifying than the plan of facing a horde of smugglers had been. What if it was like the krayt dragons of Tatooine, wild with impersonal ferocity and an appetite for small humans? That would be an incredibly anticlimactic end for the Chosen One; he was fully anticipating his death to be in a great ball of flame, Obi-Wan watching heartbroken as his awesome and flawless apprentice fulfils his destiny. That would be cool. Dying alone in a mine in the middle of nowhere would not be.

“Um… You know, beasts aren’t really my department. And… I don’t have my beast-removal equipment with me right now.” Airtight excuse. Foolproof.

“You’re just scared!” exclaimed someone who nobody asked.

“He’s not even a proper Jedi yet,” added someone else, “There’s no way he could take that thing on by himself, I bet he doesn’t even have a laser-sword!”

“Now, hold on–” All thoughts of avoiding the beast flew out of the metaphorical window. “I never said I wouldn’t do it! I have my lightsaber right here:”

The crowd stepped back as it ignited in his hand. Yeah, that’s right, he wasn’t some dumb initiate and this was his chance to prove it.

...

The comms centre had several private rooms for important calls and conferences. It also had better hardware than the commlinks Jedi took into the field.

Obi-Wan had plugged his own commlink into a rarely-used port in the console and tried to call Anakin. As he had expected, there was no answer. With the right tinkering of the console’s receiver, however, the target signal had been traced to a sparsely populated planet barely a minute up the Corellian Run. Kaidestal.

He fought the urge to slam his head against the console. If there was a licence for padawan ownership, his would be revoked any time now. Truly, he was having a fantastic day.

He wondered how Anakin had even got offplanet and then wondered why he was wondering. At this point, it was suffice to say, ‘Shit’s fucked’ and move on.

After a few moments of meditative breathing, he straightened up, unplugged his commlink, and whisked out of the comms centre. Knowing Anakin, there was little time before something disproportionately drastic happened. Force, what did he do to end up in this position?

Master Plo Koon was easy enough to locate, happening to be beside the bronzium statue Obi-Wan had been inspecting earlier. He watched as Obi-Wan covered the awkwardly long stretch of corridor in order to get within civil conversation range.

“Master Koon, I am taking a short trip to Kaidestal. I shall be back by nightfall.” He gave no reasons, the man of mystery that he was, and Plo didn’t seem to mind. Plo was one of the gentlest councilmembers and therefore the best one to inform of unannounced, unauthorised trips to obscure planets. Perhaps that was exploitative of him. Perhaps his padawan shouldn’t run away.

(Plo was one of the first to hear Mace’s gossip regarding Skywalker’s potential disappearance and therefore knew damn well what Obi-Wan was doing. Plo was not, however, a snitch. Besides, he liked Kenobi – the man had an excellent taste in drinks.)

Master Koon nodded slowly, “That seems reasonable. I’ve heard they do good stone carvings there.”

“Quite,” said Obi-Wan, impatiently – no, Jedi weren’t impatient. He was merely preoccupied.

“There’s a G8 light freighter in the hangar that you can use.” Plo shifted as if to move, but it was really more of an invitation to leave.

“Thank you, Master Koon.” Not at all in the headspace to overstay his welcome, Obi-Wan began to head towards the hangar.

“I hope you find what you’re looking for, young one!” Plo called after him.

“Me too,” muttered Obi-Wan under his breath. He wasn’t that young; he was twenty-eight. He was, however, too young to be dealing with feral padawans that made him feel twice his age. Why did he ever pick up Anakin, anyway?

...

The mouth of the mine was carved into the wall at the bottom of the quarry. It was darker than a Tatooinian night and he was being pushed into it by a gaggle of villagers who didn’t seem to notice his apprehension. While this was ideal for the maintenance of his reputation, it also made things move far more quickly than he had wanted.

No matter. He was a Jedi and Jedi faced terrifying monsters head on.

“This beast is gonna wish he never saw me,” he said, bravely, “Coward. Absolute… kriffin’…  clown.”

“What are you doing?”

“Old Jedi trick, it’s called psychological warfare. That beast is no match for Anakin kriffing Skywalker.”

“Is the swearing necessary for psychological warfare?” asked one of the group. “It’s just I brought my daughter along…”

A roar emanated from the mine ahead, echoing terribly. The tall ovissian, now wearing his head miner’s helmet, was shaking more than the nine-year-old behind him. She was delighted by the mine monster and had spent much of the walk loudly exclaiming that she wanted it to eat the entire goddamn quarry. No one else appeared to share her enthusiasm.

“Well,” said the head miner, sounding awfully authoritative, “I think you’ll be able to find your way from here. We need to go. For… health and safety reasons. Yeah, this crowd, in this passageway? Major fire hazard. Need to clear it. I’ll take care of that, you take care of–” Another roar erupted, punctuated by a thud and the sound of rocks falling. “– That.”

Anakin was unimpressed. “Ugh, do you have to have such an aversion to being cool?” He turned to see the group’s response but found the passageway empty. He rolled his eyes. Teenagehood would suit him well, he decided.

Slowly, he took his new lightsaber off his belt. It kind of sucked that his excellent craftsmanship was impossible to see in the gloom. Alone, in the dark, with no eyes on him, he could admit that quite a few things were looking decidedly uncool right now, but Force if he didn’t want to prove Obi-Wan wrong.

He tracked the sporadic tremors to their source, which was conveniently down the single, unbranching passageway in this section of mine. Still, it required a great amount of skill and a lesser man would have walked into five support beams, which was way more than Anakin’s three. He was a credit to the Jedi Order, really, even if they couldn’t see it.

Speaking of, the mine had grown far darker the further he walked until he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face. The Force was being unhelpful, merely suggesting ‘forward’, which was a no-brainer. His issue was all of the obstacles involved with ‘forwards’. If only he had packed a light.

Hang on.

Oh, Anakin Skywalker was a genius. Lateral thinking and creative problem-solving had always been his strong point, as currently being demonstrated.

His lightsaber ignited with a kzhhh. Its electric-blue glow lit his maniacal grin in harsh clarity. It also revealed the glinting eyes of something big. The grin dropped from his face as he took five steps backwards.

The passageway had opened into a small cavern without him noticing and the beast barely fit into it. Colours were difficult to make out in eerie saber-light, but its fur appeared as black as the mines, matte with dust. Large tentacles stretched out from its nose, blindly groping the walls and ceiling of the cavern as if trying to judge the environment. Massive, shovelling paws held claws almost as long as Anakin was tall. In short, it resembled a mole.

This meant that, theoretically, Anakin was at an advantage since he was decidedly not blind and had only been known to resemble a mole some of the time.

The beast was also more clumsy than Anakin, knocking support beams left and right. Luckily, none had completely shattered but, judging by their splintering fractures, it was only a matter of time. Time limits were very dramatic; this would be a worthy first mission.

Anakin waved his lightsaber in the vague direction of the mole. It was unbothered. He frowned, put out, and then poked one of its claws. Suddenly, the beast was very bothered. Its nose went from snuffling around to being thrust in Anakin’s face. Apparently it had his scent. Obi-Wan would have blamed it on Anakin’s infrequent use of the shower. Anakin would have responded that he grew up in the desert and then accused him of not caring about wasting water on trivial matters. This would put a glint of annoyance in Obi-Wan’s eyes and Anakin would count it as a victory.

The mole exploited his distraction, dishonourable as it was, yanking him off the ground with a thick face-tentacle and shaking him irritably. He tried hitting the disgustingly writhing mass with the hilt of his lightsaber – ineffective. Then he slashed it with the blade and got catapulted into a wall. His vision failed and the back of his head killed, but he was quickly grabbed by the ankle and dragged across the floor. Massive, sharp claws came swinging at him. This was not good.

Quick, what would Obi-Wan do?

“Hey, you suck!” he shouted, voice wobbling as he dove out of the way of another slash, “No one likes you! You should just stop and go away!”

The mole monster may also have been deaf since it only continued its previous level of violence despite the scathing insults. He dodged a claw, jumping into a swinging tentacle which smashed him into a support beam. Splinters pierced his robes, digging into his right arm as it collided with the beam. His lightsaber flew from his hand and he fell to the ground, spinning to narrowly avoid landing on the hurt arm. All light in the cavern vanished as his saber-blade extinguished.

All of a sudden, the lightsaber argument from that morning felt like a moot point. A lot of things were looking very moot now, in the dark. 

He could hear the shuffle of tentacles searching the floor and the scratching of claws against stone. The mole was snuffling loudly around for him. His arm hurt.

Fighting the urge to curl up by the wall, he slowly climbed to his feet and looked the monster dead where he thought its eye could be. Warm air huffed in his face, blowing his braid back. Everything was still for a moment and then a tentacle whipped around his knees and flipped him upside down into the air. He definitely did not yelp.

The sound of a lightsaber igniting came from the tunnel, then pounding footsteps and then Obi-Wan ran in, illuminating the cavern walls around him. Something intangible yanked Anakin out of the mole’s grasp and into Obi-Wan’s arms. 

Anakin struggled to escape the strong left arm that wrapped across his torso, efficiently immobilising him. “Hey, I had it under control, you know.” He gave up, reaching his good hand out and calling his lightsaber back to it. “Still do, actually.”

“Sure,” replied Obi-Wan, not letting go even as a tentacle lunged at him. He jumped backwards, slashing the support beam that Anakin had dented. They dove into the tunnel as the cavern rumbled. The mole roared back. There was a terrible creaking of splintering wood and then the cavern ceiling fell in. Dust and rock made the air thick.

Quiet.

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan from where he was pressed against his chest and saw a strangled sort of sorrow.

“Poor thing,” croaked Obi-Wan. Then he looked at Anakin with a clenched jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those. I could have studied it.”

It was almost enough to make Anakin apologise.

...

Obi-Wan dragged his padawan by his collar until they reached the mine’s entrance. The villagers who had pointed him inside were crowded around and erupted into cheers as soon as they stepped into the light.

One elbowed the head miner playfully. “Told you he was the madawan’s Jedi.”

“Shut up,” said the ovissian, who then raised his voice above the chattering. “Thank you, Master Jedi, for your assistance. Uh, what exactly is the status of the, uh…”

“It’s dead,” Obi-Wan replied, bluntly, “And I’m afraid you may also need to reinforce the tunnel’s structural integrity. I apologise on behalf of my padawan –”

“Hey!”

“Of course, he will also apologise himself.”

Their eyes met in a match of wills. Anakin sighed, just loud enough for Obi-Wan to hear, and acquiesced.

“My sincere apologies,” he muttered, bowing shallowly. Obi-Wan had definitely taught him better manners than this; the child was just showing him up. Ungrateful womp-rat.

Fortunately, the villagers weren’t versed in bows and didn’t seem invested in apologies. Most were preoccupied by the mine and the new lack of angry mole. Small blessings, perhaps.

...

After manhandling the still-hot wreck of Anakin’s Aethersprite into the freighter Obi-Wan had brought and flying the brief trip back to the Temple, Obi-Wan was reaching the end of his patience. He left the ships with the hangar’s mechanics and dragged Anakin away from any chance of helping them. Their trip to the Halls of Healing were brief – the healers were efficient in removing the splinters and wrapping Anakin’s arm in bacta-soaked bandages. He only complained about half as much as he usually did.

They marched double-time to their rooms and Obi-Wan locked the door behind him; he could not cope with Anakin sneaking out at night.

“Master?” The voice was small. Obi-Wan tried not to let his ire show in his look. Perhaps if Anakin was squinting it would work. He was not. Instead he was holding out a hand full of pine needles and another with several small pinecones. “While I was on that planet, I found these for you to study. I’ve never seen them before; they could be revolutionary.”

Obi-Wan sighed, not having the heart to tell him that pine trees were fairly common throughout the galaxy. Anakin dropped his revolutionary finds into his hands, having to scrape off some of the pine needles that stuck.

“Thank you, Padawan. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“There were some bigger ones of these,” he added, pointing to the pinecones, “but I couldn’t fit them in my belt and some of the wildlife tried to fight me for them.”

“A squirrel?”

“I dunno, I didn’t see it very well. It was kinda fast. Reminded me of you, a bit.”

“How so?”

“Red,” said Anakin, nodding to Obi-Wan’s head, “And it didn’t like me picking up things off the floor.”

Obi-Wan huffed. “As long as you weren’t trying to eat pinecones.”

“Is that what they’re called?”

“Yes. Although I suppose I’d have to… study them. To make sure.”

Anakin’s face lit up. “Wizard.”

Obi-Wan’s annoyance was almost forgotten. Not quite. He was still a responsible Jedi master, no matter what the Council speculated.

There was a knock on the door. Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, who grimaced back. He opened it with very little hesitation.

“Knight Kenobi.” Speak of a Sith…

“Master Windu,” said Obi-Wan, far more brightly than he was feeling.

“Have you located your padawan?”

“Of course; he’s right here, Master.” He pulled Anakin out from behind his legs. Anakin attempted a winning smile, but nerves appeared to crumple it slightly. He had always been intimidated by Master Windu – first impressions were a force to be reckoned with. “I knew exactly where he was.” It was technically true, if you were selective about your timeframe.

Master Windu gave Anakin one of his signature piercing gazes, the kind that seems to expose one’s every weakness and warn against them. Anakin seemed to get the message. Hopefully he would keep it for at least a week before he inevitably threw it out.

“If that’s the case, I won’t need to launch a search party. Good night, Kenobi.”

“May the Force be with you, Master Windu.”

After Master Windu had left and Anakin had gone to bed still shaken from the encounter, Obi-Wan contemplated ditching the Temple and his wayward padawan for Bail Organa’s whiskey collection. Alderaan always made the best whiskey…

...

Art by me, @dib-leo-pard​

[holonetnews]

Once the other event-goers reach an appreciable distance from them, Fordo dials his vocoder down to a hushed level and leans in to speak. "I'd like to thank you, Deena. I know I don't say it much, but the positive effect your coverage has had for both my team and the GAR in general these past two years cannot be understated."

There weren’t many events that she had attended where she would’ve described herself as being out of her league, but this particular event definitely ranked among them.

The Lightspeed Lounge was possibly the most exclusive nightclub on Coruscant, if not the galaxy, and their host, Baron Notluwiski Papanoida, had rented out the entire establishment especially for the gala.

Beyond the venue, the refreshments on offer, the various musicians and performers, even the pamphlets detaining the evening’s itinerary were all of the most exquisite quality. The guests were no exception, each representing a select class of individual.

Managing Directors of vast business empires and galactic conglomerates, the most highly-renowned artisans and orators, members of Royalty. If she had to guess, Deena estimated all-in-all those assembled at the gala probably represented around one fifth of the wealth of the entire galaxy. Aside from a pair of Senators who had found their way to financial success long before they’d found their way into The Senate, the gathering was devoid of all political representation. A deliberate choice, Deena suspected.

It was not the sort of event she would ever have been invited to attend, and if Gaff Ghel Gaian, the Editorial Director of HoloNet News, hadn’t given her his invite last minute due to a family emergency, she wouldn’t have been. She stuck out like a sore thumb. Even her best outfit, put together just for her buy the eminent Zeltron designer Do'sara Sanel, and if she was being honest with herself, probably worth more than what many sentients made in a year, paled in comparison to the dress of the other event-goers.

She might as well have been wearing rags.

Despite her attempts to mingle, aside from one brief conversation with a kind Mirialan sculptor who also seemed dazzled by the affair, the attendees were as disinterested in her as she had been with the fourth performance from the Twi’Lek interpretative dance group that seemed to be a dominant fixture of the evening.

At least the Zabrak Valachord duo from Taris had played a perfect rendition of Sugaan Essena’s latest hit, so the evening wasn’t a total write off.

She had relegated herself to a standing table at the far end of the lower lounge, around the corner from turbolift where everyone was hustling to go to the upper lounge. She flicked through her datapad leisurely, trying to remain approachable, whilst nursing her boredom with sips of an electric-green beverage she had discovered. The bardroid had called it a “Quasar Quencher” – and after three glasses of it, Deena was inclined to agree, just like it said on the tin, that it probably could even knock-out an entire star.

Once the other event-goers reach an appreciable distance from them, Fordo dials his vocoder down to a hushed level and leans in to speak. "I'd like to thank you, Deena. I know I don't say it much, but the positive effect your coverage has had for both my team and the GAR in general these past two years cannot be understated."

She was dimly aware of a movement in her periphery, and it took her a moment to register it, and a moment longer still to recognize the familiar voice that bled through the clipped tones of a vocoder… Oh, it was just Fordo. She took another swig of the quasar quencher, and continued scrolling through the datapad.

“Thanks, Fordo, that means a lot to me.“ Deena murmured back as she slowly tore her gaze from her datapad. There were two awkward seconds of silence until the proverbial credit chit dropped, and a flash of illumination gently spread across Deena’s features. “Wait? Fordo? What are you doing here?” Deena said more to herself in puzzled in an undertone, before surreptitiously raising her glass to him with a smile.  “Sorry, I mean – you’re very welcome.”

After an evening of feeling undervalued and underappreciated, Fordo’s words had immutably lifted her spirits.

[movienotesbyzawmer]

Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

May 4: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

(previous notes: Star Wars: The Last Jedi)

Source: UK 3D Blu-ray

I saw this at pretty much the very first available showing, and haven't watched it since. But since I had the other Disney-era ones in 3D, and I still have the capability to watch 3D movies at home, I decided to complete my Blu-ray collection by ordering the British 3D Blu-ray, like I'd done with The Last Jedi. So now I'm going to see it at home for the first time, in 3D for the first time, and take notes like I've been doing.

My reaction when I saw this on opening night was that it was a lot of fun. I didn't think it was as good as The Last Jedi. Overall it feels like a trilogy where the first priority was to avoid the mistakes of the prequels, and the second priority was to have them be fun movies. Mission accomplished, but the actual story of this trilogy is only marginally satisfying. But I left that opening night screening excited about all the neat things I'd witnessed. And now I shall press play and do some re-witnessing…

Emperor Palpatine, the opening crawl tells us. He wasn't someone we were expecting to be part of the plot of this movie, was it?

First scene after the opening shot is a slow-mo land battle, visually different from Star Wars movies in general. Dude kills 100% of everyone then plucks a mysterious relic from a mysterious relic. He's on a Tomb-raider-y treasure hunt.

It takes him to a Tomb Raider-y lair… and there are creatures in green liquid ahhh!

"…some consider to be… UNNATURAL", that line from Episode III. Very love it. Good reference.

The image of all those Star Destroyers is super super super cool.

And now after a calculated bit of lightness in the Millennium Falcon, the good guys arrive at a super neat looking planet thing. Not even ten minutes in and we've seen three inventive new planet environments.

And now a chase, "lightspeed skipping", and each skip is a cool space place, all different, one of them has a big monster! They are tuned into what's good about Star Wars movies, these Rise of Skywalker makers.

Also, Finn and Poe seem to have settled into their roles as funny supporting-character buddies. The first movie really seemed to be beginning a more dramatic arc for Finn, but it doesn't feel like that's happening any more.

0:15:36 - Rose Tico sighting! Her arc blunted as well. Be nice if she joined them on this mission they're about to leave on.

Really kind of surprising how much footage there is of Carrie Fisher, who died years before this came out.

Okay now we're back with Kylo Ren on this planet that's the equivalent of that orc-factory in Lord of the Rings. What's he doing? Collaborating with some ukky beings. Fixing his helmet. Hm.

Bit of humor in the conference room scene, again calculated.

Back to our heroes and they're on another neat new planet with color clouds & celebratory visuals, pleasant.

0:23:40 - Very cinematic Rey-Kylo cross-galaxy conversation, cool.

Lando saves them from stormtroopers, and is therefore given the honor of the "I've got a bad feeling about this" line.

0:28:00 Speeder chase in the desert, and the stormtrooper speeders launch them up and they fly! Cool!

Hah, there's a gag where Rey fires up her light saber and Poe tries to do that too but his is just a flashlight, cute.

Okay, here's this scene I like where there's a serpent monster in their Tomb Raider cave, and Ray figures out that the monster just needs to be force healed so she does it and it helps them. Sounds corny but I like it.

0:36:00 - we see the Ren gang on a plateau and here a new music theme. I'm not much noticing the new music themes in the Star Wars movies of the 2010s, but there's one.

This scene. The Kylo/Rey meeting in the desert. It was heavily teased in the trailer and it would have been more effective if we hadn't seen so much of it in the trailer. Also there's a who-can-magic-harder duel that ends up killing Chewy, except that we don't have to believe that very very long.

"Let's do that!" about wiping C-3POs memory, John Boyega's exceptional comic timing on display again.

0:45:40 - We're on this new planet now, which is so Poe can find the person that can do a memory wipe of 3-3PO, right? It's fast-paced, this movie.

"We sent out a call for help at the battle of Krait, nobody came" says Poe. Am I forgetting that drama from The Last Jedi? I know he's talking about that final battle from that movie, but I didn't remember a despairing "no one is coming", at least not like it was a huge, shocking letdown.

I like the little Babu creature but we don't get much of it, do we

Poe is all "did she do that to us" when he sees her Force-hypnotize the stormtroopers, haha

0:58:10 - Pretty unique shot, dollying backwards facing Poe & Finn shooting stormtroopers we can't see until they fall in front of the camera

"Your parents were no one… they CHOSE to be" here's where it starts to seem like this movie doesn't like where the last movie was going & made it be different. If this were an improv class the teacher would be like, "remember the principle of 'yes AND…'"

Okay, this bit coming up where General Hux saves them & says he's the spy. It's… funny? And dumb? Maybe? Sort of a tawdry end to this character in the trilogy maybe?

"You.. Are a Palpatine." Dun dun dunnnnnnn. Okay sure I guess. This isn't what I'm into Star Wars movies for; I wouldn't have had it be about this.

They get to the new planet and Rey figures out how to use the knife tool to find where to go, it's so like a Tomb Raider game that I feel like I'm reading a cheat guide on GameSpot

Now Finn is bonding with the girl on the planet who is also a stormtrooper deserter, makes that whole Finn subplot make more sense.

Rey swiped a cool watercraft to go to the wreck of the Death Star and I just want to point out once again that I like the vehicle design in Star Wars movies.

1:13:10 - overhead shot of said vehicle is the first notable example of something that looks good in 3D in this movie. I'm inclined to say you really shouldn't feel like you're missing out if you're seeing this in 2D.

She's in a vision cave on the wrecked Death Star. She fights HER OWN SELF for a second, and bad-Rey rawrs at her in a way that reminds me of when Bilbo does that in the first Lord of the Rings movie. I liked it there and I like it here.

1:18:05 - First bit of my beloved "Han Solo and the Princess" theme, so lovely

Now Rey and Kylo are saber dueling all over this wreck with waves everywhere and it reminds me of the big climactic duel in Episode III where it seems like the duelers are going out of their way to duel in a cool looking place.

Everything gets all dramatic in a way that doesn't really get explained - Leia very deliberately says "Ben", then dies, but it affects Kylo allowing Rey to kill him, but then she un-kills him with Force magic because "I did want to take your hand" and then bounces. And it's not over with this kind of thing, because Kylo has a not-really-real conversation with his played-by-OMG-Harrison-Ford father, and he symbolically hurls his awesome saber away. So where are we now? We're in some drama, that's where. I miss cool vehicles and inventive creature design!

1:27:45 - Modded-up Star Destroyer emerges from lightspeed and it's another cool 3D effect.

And then it blows up the planet where Poe's ex-girlfriend was and it looks cool, but we could have used her to be around more. Wait, does she not-be-dead later or something? Probably.

Okay, very corny sequence happening now, it's the pep talk between Rey and ghost-Luke, it ends with a smirking Luke raising up an X-wing like he couldn't do in Empire Strikes Back, so I guess that plot point is tidied up.

Okay, we got past that drama and now there's a very simple Saint-Crispin's-Day speech riling up the troops so they can go to that mystery planet for the final battle, and interest level has picked up.

1:41:28 - Hey a shot of Rey going through a wall gap is a reference to the earlier cool-in-3D shot of the watercraft & the Death Star wreck.

And here's something that internet assholes picked on - they ride horse-things on the Star Destroyers. Lighten up comrades, maybe this just isn't your kind of space adventure movie.

Rey gets in the mystery-edifice and holy hell it's creepy! There's an audience of thousands of cultists in black stone bleacher seats, chanting in perfect unison! It's downright Kubrick-y!

They really had fun with the lighting in the Palpatine room. Also, there are red stormtroopers on the Star Destroyers and aren't they pretty.

Palpatine is trying to convince Rey that she should embrace hatred and hill him and rule the galaxy in ritual hatred with a chanting congregation of hooded dipshits. Will it work? He does have a very compelling speaking voice. But here comes Kylo! He has had a change of heart or something!

"The life force in your bond," he narrates, and then bad-magics them super hard!  We never could have anticipated that evil force spells could thwart their plans.

1:54:20 - very satisfying shot of a giant fleet of good guys coming to save the day. They hit us with the idea of no one coming to save them, and just like when Han Solo swooped in in the first movie, it feels good that this time someone else did show up. And yes it includes Poe's girlfriend and that charismatic little varmint!

Super cool to see Star Destroyers get blown up.

Also cool when Palpatine super-zaps lots of good guy spaceships. Sound is neat on that also. This intense visual/aural experience is what I was thinking about for a while after first seeing this movie.

Rey beats Palpatine by having that surprise second light saber. Whatever, this is a super cool looking scene with all the bad guys in that chamber getting wasted.

Other cool battle climax imagery happens up in the sky, even though it's kind of hard to see what exactly physically happened to save Finn and those guys on the crashing Star Destroyer.

Kylo… what??? Didn't die when he just disappeared into a crevasse??? Quel surprise! He's super-reformed now and heals Rey up with his tender love for her. They kiss, their carnal desires overtaking them, they are high on the most ethical lust the galaxy has ever known! And he dies and disappears, but is visibly satisfied. I feel okay mocking this because I suspect no one likes it. And then it moves on to really cool aftermath visuals that are crazy fun to watch. They are experiencing the great victory in other planets from the other movies, and to the tune of John Williams themes from movies past.

Maz presents Chewy with a special medal, am I supposed to know what that's about? They're giving it major gravity.

So the movie, the trilogy, and the Skywalker Saga ends with a scene of Rey returning to Tatooine to bury the two important light sabers, but also whip out another one she had, and then tell a townie that she's named Rey SKYWALKER, and the final moment is of her gazing at the two suns with the Binary Sunset theme playing us out. What I like about that is that it sends the message that that moment from the original Star Wars, elevated to greatness largely by John Williams stirring theme, is the pinnacle of cinematic experiences that were brought to us by this series.

I like this movie less than any of the Disney-era movies for sure, and I think after watching it a second time, it lacks some specialness that could have allowed it to hold up better against the best Star Wars movies. But I wouldn't say it's bad, and I certainly wouldn't advise against seeing it.

[destructiveshade]

Lightspeed: Chapter 2

When he reached the school, the entire second and third floors were completely ablaze. Luckily, that meant that the dampeners were out of commission. So he ran inside and grabbed as many people as he could and took off out the door, taxiing everyone, that he could find, to safety.

After he had everyone outside, out of reach of the building that was starting to collapse, he dropped to the ground in a heap of exhaustion, sweat, and soot. That’s when the floating man appeared out of the smoke. Kimmy, who has the gift of flight, screamed when she saw him and tried to fly away. The man was quick though, and he shot a beam of light at her and vaporized her mid-flight.

“Anyone else want to flee?” The man’s voice roared over the fire. “No? Good.”

“Who are you?” Shouted a girl that Zxan recognized from his first period Advanced Human Bio class.

“He made direct eye-contact. I am HellFire!” He shouted as beams of light shot from his hands and set the field between him and the group on fire. As the fire died down, he bellowed, “And who might you be, little girl?”

“Devin.” The brave girl squeaked, suddenly terrified that his attention was focused entirely on her.

“Devin. You are brave to stand up to me. I am going to present you with a choice.” Then letting his eyes roam over the entire group, he addressed them all. “I will give you all a choice. You can join me. Or die.”

There was an audible gasp from the group. Then, one by one, twelve of the students and three of the professors walked over to stand near him.

“Kneel before me! And swear your fealty to me now!” HellFire bellowed at the group of fifteen. After they each swore fealty to him, he focused his gaze on the remaining three students and two professors.

“I am severely ashamed of the three of you!” Shouted Professor Minerva. “We swore to protect these children from Evil like him!” That must have pissed off HellFire because he shot a beam of light from his left hand at Professor Minerva. She was quick though and extremely gifted. She has the ability to pull the air closer together, creating an effective forcefield. This forcefield blocked the beam of light from reaching the five of them, but it blew up the forcefield, throwing them back 15 feet.

“Silence! You insignificant worm!” Shouted HellFire.

“Can you get these children out of here Professor Vlad?” Minerva shouted, erecting another forcefield around them.

“Yes! Yes! I can, just give me a second.” Vlad shouted. Then he created a portal and threw two girls through it. He looked at Zxan and shouted to him to get through the portal.

“No! I’m staying to fight!” Zxan shouted back.

“Don’t be stupid, boy! You can’t fight all 16 of them!” Vlad shouted. “Now get through the fucking portal!” Zxan went to protest, but Minerva cut him off before he could.

“He’s right, Zxan. Please get through the portal, okay? Think of your mother! Think of Alyss.” She said. This triggered something inside of him. His emotions flooded back and he knew he couldn’t live without his mom or Alyss. And he knew that they would be very affected by the loss of him. And that thought brought him to his feet and he jumped through the portal.

“Minerva, quick, please! Jump through so I can close it!” Vlad shouted. Minerva jumped through the portal, and Vlad closed it behind her, then turned to look at HellFire.

“Liam! Please see reason! These people did nothing to you and you destroyed them! You are better than this!” Vlad shouted.

“My name is HellFire! Liam has been dead for years!” HellFire shouted as he blasted beams of light at Vlad, who created two portals. The beams of light shot through one and back towards the evil man out of the other, but he dissipated the beams before they reached him.

He floated down to Professor Vlad and looked at him with his pitch black eyes. “What do you see now, Vlad?” HellFire asked in an Eerily calm voice.

“I see a monster.” Vlad said, unwavering. “I used to see a bright-eyed kid with a bright future ahead of him. Now all I see is a monster with no soul.”

“You know what I see?” HellFire asked Vlad in that calm voice of his.

“Nope, I have no idea what you see. With no soul, I don’t know what you could possibly see.”

“I see a coward. Someone that couldn’t protect a student, even under oath. Someone that would rather watch an innocent student be consumed by their power than to get help. So you, Vlad, are a coward. And you will die a coward.”

“Well, can I make one last statement to those behind you?”

“Might as well, seeing as they’re your last words.”

“I’m addressing all of you. All fifteen of you. You have all made a horrible mistake and I am deeply ashamed of you. Especially the three of you.” He said, pointing at the professors when he added that last part. “You three swore to protect these children. Not give them over to the enemy.”

“Are you done yet?” HellFire asked.

“Just about.” Vlad said, right before vanishing through a portal that he created just below his feet. As soon as he landed on the tile floor, he closed the portal, evaporating it into nothing.

“What happened?” Minerva shouted, obviously flustered.

“I had a talk with Liam. He did not like it.” Vlad responded.

“Wait, wait, wait. You mean that was Liam. Like, the Liam?” Shelby asked incredulously.

“Yes.” Minerva and Vlad replied in unison. Then Vlad continued, “He seems to still be angry with me and the Academy.”

“What happened? Why did he turn evil?” Asked Bethany, the other girl that was willing to die than be evil.

“It’s too much to get into. But long story short, He couldn’t control his power, and the dampeners did not help. So he was entirely consumed by light until he disintegrated. But you all know this. What you probably didn’t know is that we knew he wasn’t dead. I mean, we thought he was dead for a while, but then we got a message. It was encrypted and it said two words. Liam Plake. That’s when I knew he was alive, but the school board wouldn’t allow us to go look for him.”

They sat in silence for a while before Zxan finally spoke up. “So you know Howard Wayne, huh?”

This caught Vlad by surprise. “How did you know this was his place?”

“I have every issue of every tech magazine he was in.”

“Why?”

“Cause I know exactly what I want my super-suit to be made out of and how I want it to look.” Zxan responded. “The only problem is that I can’t afford the technology.”

“I think that I can help with that.” Came a voice from a doorway. All five of the escapees turned to see Howard standing in the doorway looking very nonchalant. “I’ve picked the applicants, and I think all three of you would be very pleased to hear that you were chosen.” He looked for a moment at the three astounded children. “I want you three to be my scholarship winners.”

Zxan was the first to catch up, “No way! No way! Us? As in Bethany, Shelby and I?”

“Yes. Zxan, if I remember correctly?”

“Oh. Yes, sir. Sorry for rambling on, I’m just excited to work with you.” Zxan said, somewhat ashamed of the way he had acted. “Oh shit! OH SHIT! My mom! And Alyss! I need to get back to the 6th street St. Phrese Hospital! I have to go!” He shouted, unintentionally, as he started running towards the door.

“Here, let me help you.” Vlad said, creating a portal that took them both to the top of the hospital. After his portal dissipated, he created another one that took them through the locked door that led to the stairwell. After they walked through the portal, Zxan ran down the stairs to the first floor.

“Miss Fiona, Miss Fiona. Have you seen my mom?” Zxan asked quickly.

“Yes honey, she’s in one of the examination rooms with your little friend. Why, is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, ma’am. Everything is okay. Would you be able to call down there and see if I can go into the examination room?”

“Why, sure, honey. Just give me a sec.” She pulled her phone up and dialed a few numbers. The phone rang for a bit and then she started talking. “You can go ahead, okay? It’s examination room number 4.”

“Thank you so much Miss Fiona.” Zxan said very quickly. He then ran to the  Exam 4 room and knocked. Then his mom opened the door, pulled him in, and closed the door behind them. Then she started hugging him and proceeded to catechize him with questions. Then she started examining him. She floated her hands over his body.

“Well, you’re okay except for some minor bruises.” She finally said.

[coeurdastronaute]

Essays in Existentialism: Undies

You’re an underwear model and there’s a giant billboard of your toned body just across from where I work so I have to look at you every day AU

The office on the twelfth floor was fairly empty. Despite three years in the position, the inhabitant did not add much in terms of personalizing it. There was a soft leather chair in the corner with a blanket from her alma mater draped over it. There were a few stacks of books around it, on her large desk, littering the floor neatly. It was fairly boring, until she opened the window.

Grading papers, it was almost impossible to not get distracted on nice days when the windows were opened because the air was faulty at best so high up in the building. When Lexa first got the office, her view consisted of a slushie ad for a gas station. A year later, she opened her blinds one day to find a fancy billboard about watches she’d never afford.

And that wasn’t the worst situation. It went unnoticed for the majority of the time in the office. She had meetings, students arrived for office hours, and the world continued to turn, classes continued to be taught, papers were read and written, books were read beneath the view of the black and white watch.

The first day back, a few days before winter semester, the professor found her office disrupted as her view was no longer a soothing, nonsensical watch scene. Blinds tugged up and scarf half unwrapped from her neck, she stared at perhaps the most beautiful person in the world was not even half-dressed and very much in lacy underwear, seventy-five feet high.

Though she’d never had a stroke before, Lexa was almost certain she was having one as soon as she saw the billboard. Still stunned and unable to move, she felt her glasses slip down her nose slightly and she felt herself gulp, but more than anything, she just stared at that lingerie billboard and decided her office was never going to be productive again.

It took about two weeks for her to ever open the blinds again, and when she did, it was just as much of a heart attack. The professor made it exactly two hours of office hours and one afternoon class before she googled the girl whose boobs stared at her and had cleavage the size of sedan.

That was a mistake.

Slamming her laptop shut when she was confronted with more face and more lingerie pictures, Lexa found her heart beating too fast and she looked around her empty office as if she would be caught at any moment.

That was how Lexa discovered she was now trapped in a distracting hell that would never allow her to get any real work done. That was how she learned to never open the blinds. That was how she lived her boring, safe life.

“Alright, I’m out of here for the night,” Lexa shouldered her bag and dropped off papers for the secretary.

“Do you want me to have the janitor take those plants out of your office?”

“Hm?”

“You have to let them have some light,” she shook her head, stacking the papers neatly. “You keep it so dark in there.”

“Headaches,” Lexa cleared her throat. “I get headaches.”

“Oh honey, that makes sense.”

“Have a good evening,” she nodded, adjusting her bag on her shoulder nervously.

Life wasn’t terrible. Life wasn’t even bad, though that conversation with the secretary was embarrassing enough to last a few weeks. Lexa’s life was absolutely normal, even with the giant lingerie billboard mocking her sexless life.

But it wasn’t completely sexless, just like it wasn’t completely lonely, though it had its moments. As the elevator descended, Lexa tried not to think too much about all of that jumble. She had a lot of fun at her job. She loved studying and working with students. It was her dream job to teach at a university and present her own research. But after the move, after the break up, there was a kind of normalcy in her work.

It wasn’t that she was prone to risk, just that risk never really presented itself to her. Why would it? She was a college professor who only had one steady relationship in her life that was boring and normal. Boring and normal were her operative words.

She had her friends, and she had a life. She also had a large, scantily clad billboard that taunted her, and that was Lexa’s life. Normal and boring and her own.

Her phone buzzed as she walked through the lobby toward her subway and eventually toward her house where a new test was to be written for her Intro to Ancient Cultures class. With a roll of her eyes she tried to recuse herself from an invitation to drinks down the street.

“Oh, I’m sorry, excuse me,” she muttered, pushing up her glasses as she regained her footing after bumping into a body.

“No, no, not a problem,” a voice chuckled and hands grabbed at the professor’s arm. “I was just standing here.”

“Holy. Fuck.”

“Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine… I just. I’m sorry,” Lexa shook her head, eyes wide and very confused by the turn of her day. “I’m just certain I’m dead right now.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because there’s absolutely no way I’ve bumped into the girl who is half-naked and on a billboard across from my office.”

“Oh, you work there?”

Discreetly, the professor pinched herself and stared at the supermodel who was somehow outside of her office on a random Tuesday evening. No more words came at all, though her mouth was wide open, and she couldn’t stop gaping.

Clarke Griffin was beautiful. She had… personality. Personality that Lexa was face to face with on a daily basis. She had pretty blue eyes and she had a smile that was absolutely sock-knocking off.

And she was standing on the sidewalk outside of the Kent Building.

“Why are you here?”

“This is my first billboard,” she shrugged and looked back at herself. “I kind of had to see it in person, and this is the soonest I could get back.”

“You’re here,” Lexa nodded to herself and looked back at the giant sign before blushing and shaking her head.

Two minutes ago she was walking out of her office in hopes of ditching drinks. Now things were just different and they couldn’t be the same.

“I’m sorry you have to stare at me all day. I am significantly more embarrassed than I was a moment ago,” Clarke nodded to herself without meeting the professor’s eyes. “It was lame enough coming out to see it, but yeah. Now I feel even dorkier.”

“It’s. You. You’re that. Okay.”

“I’m Clarke,” she finally held out a hand.”

“Lexa.”

She didn’t register it, that her muscles moved and she took the hand of the model who didn’t wear clothes and had good cleavage. Great Cleavage, both capitalized and an example to humanity. Nope. She didn’t shake her hand, except somehow she did.

“You work in that building?”

“Yes,” she nodded, still shaking her hand.

“What do you do?”

“I. Um. Words. I do words. I teach words. Words in the pages. Books. Words and books.”

A wry smile appeared on the model’s face when the hand was unceremoniously dropped and the shaking hand was retracted at lightspeed.

“I suspect you are very good at it.”

“What do you do?” Lexa gaped dumbly before she shut her eyes and tried to mentally kill herself.

When she opened them again, she pushed up her glasses and met a smirk that made her positive she was dead. In what world does she bump into and chat with the lingerie-wearing model of her dreams. She was dead. She was hit by a bus and would wake up momentarily or be ushered into heaven or something. That was it. She just had to survive another few seconds and avoid the light.

“I model. You might not recognize me with my clothes on.”

“Oh, no. I do. I mean. I saw your face. And I saw all of,” her hands moved in front of Clarke’s chest. “I mean. I’m sorry. I did see part of. There’s the. My office is right up there, third window from the left on the twelfth floor.”

“Right across from my cleavage.”

“Yes.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“Hm?”

“I mean,” Lexa scrambled. “It’s not that bad.”

“I suppose there could be worse views.”

Neither moved and neither looked at each other for a moment as they stared at the billboard. Clarke snuck a peek at the bespectacled professor and smiled to herself for the first time in a long, honest while. There was something refreshing about her.

“I’m going for drinks, with my friends,” Lexa finally tried. “If you aren’t doing anything you could come. Because I’m pretty sure this is a fever dream or I’m having a stroke. So. Why not.”

“Why would you think that?”

It was evening and the sun was stuck between the buildings, though it didn’t want to set, not fully, not yet. Clarke knew there was an early shoot in the morning. She also knew that the past two years of her life had been the busiest and best, but also the loneliest, and she was still far from home.

“Because I walked out of my office and you just appeared.”

“I suppose it is just a bit silly.”

“A bit?”

“Isn’t it amazing what ten minutes can do?” Clarke asked. “If you’d left ten minutes sooner, if I’d been ten minutes later.”

Lexa couldn’t think of anything except for boobs. Which was a problem because that sounded smart and like it should count for something.

“Drinks?”

“Sure.”

The answer was not the one she anticipated, and yet again, Lexa was convinced that she was dead or dying and ready to wake up at any moment.

“I’ve never been in a professor’s office before,” the model decided as the lights were flipped on.

Neither were drunk, though Lexa wished she could have used that as an excuse. She wished she drank more than two beers.  She wished Clarke was sloppy because then she would just want to take care of her and not kiss her. She wished that her sister hadn’t been wing-manning for her. She wished that it had been a fever dream or a car to the temple. That would explain it.

But Anya said people won the lottery with just as much improbability. And to Lexa’s logical brain, that actually made sense in a disturbing kind of way.

“It’s not much,” Lexa shrugged as she leaned against the door. “But the view is something.”

“Is it weird that I wanted to see it?”

“Yes.”

“I knew it,” Clarke sighed and shook her head as she picked up a few books on the neat desk. “I just never expected to be on something. I never expected any of this. So I guess I had to see it, to believe it, if that makes sense.”

“It does.”

“Is this where you sit and grade papers?” she changed the subject and pointed toward the chair in the corner.

“Sometimes.”

Awkwardly, Lexa stepped into her office, looking at it with fresh eyes. The blinds finally opened and the dim city still had enough lights to show the billboard at the late hour.

“Wow. That definitely takes away from the stateliness of your office,” she whistled as she took in the display.

“All of my plants died because I have to keep the blinds closed,” Lexa informed her.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“There are worse views I’m sure.”

Despite herself, Lexa stood beside Clarke just as they had a few hours ago when they met, both staring at the same thing they stared at then. The major difference, however, was that Lexa looked at the model and couldn't care less about the stupid picture that she had memorized already.

“Did you have a crush on me because you’ve seen me in my underwear?” Clarke asked.

“Definitely.”

“Is that what I’ve become?” she crossed her arms. “Is this what I wanted?”

“I don’t know.”

“It’s weird, to be thought of as just… that.”

“Everyone has that, though,” Lexa furrowed. “People look at me, they see a dork. Anyone could look at you right now and see that you’re drop-dead and stunning. No one is ever going to ask for your number because they think you look like someone who has great conversations.”

“Ah, so you’re justifying your perviness?” she teased, taking the words as best she could.

“No. I just… I looked at that picture and I thought you were hot. Like, I couldn’t even work in my office anymore, hot,” she explained. “But I definitely only got a crush on you when you recited the speech from the Sorting Hat over drinks with my sister.”

Slowly the smile formed while Lexa realized her words and snapped her mouth shut tight. She wasn’t going to admit anything ever again. Not about anything. Clarke kept the smile to herself as best she could.

Lexa flinched as she felt a hand slip into her own. Though she was too afraid to look and see who it was that was holding her own, she squeezed it back.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for classroom D108?”

The student barely looks up from his book until he sees leaves and a pot juggled in arms, and then he does a doubletake. The polite girl asking for directions smiled sweetly, waiting for an answer in the tiny hallways of the large building across from her billboard.

“Um. What?”

“D108?” she tried again, looking at a piece of paper the secretary gave her. “I thought it was on the other floor, but I can’t seem to find anything with D attached.”

“That’s the lecture hall,” he said, staring at her intensely. “Ground floor, to the right of the entrance facing the stairs.”

“Oh, great,” Clarke nodded, juggling the plant from her hip to her arms. “Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

It was stupid, but still, the model found herself repeatedly riding the elevator and search every inch of the giant english department building in hopes of finding the professor that was nerdy hot, but also insanely human and normal, which was addicting. It was her eyes and her face. That was important. Plus she had a cute butt that the model found herself checking out on the way to the bar.

There comes a time when one must simply stop worrying though, and that was what Clarke decided. She didn’t care. She had a billboard where she was barely covered and millions of people saw it, so, what else was there to really be afraid of anymore?

That was fine and good until she stood in the back of the lecture hall and saw the stupid professor with her stupid rolled up sleeves and stupid cute butt when she wrote on the board, and her stupid glasses that she adjusted when she pondered, and her stupid face that was the explicit material anyone would imagine between their own legs.

So Clarke did the only thing that she could, and she took a seat and took in the class.

The professor had everyone’s attention, and to someone who had never taken a college class ever before, it was actually interesting. Lexa spoke with her hands, and with confidence that Clarke would have never imagined the girl who taught ‘words, books and words,’ to have. There was something about a girl with passion that was mesmerizing.

It ended with a reminder for papers and responses to be submitted. It ended with laughs and a few people lingering to ask questions as she packed up her bag and wiped down the board, and politely, Clarke waited, ducking her head slightly away from any eyes of dreary students who were more worried to get out of the room and onto the weekend.

Somewhere between a question about an extension and a flirtatious coed, Clarke caught those eyes and earned a double take. Still, she waited her turn kindly, though she saw the little rush that the professor got to clear out the room.

It wasn’t that she didn’t get looks, ever. Clarke got many looks. Many annoying people asked her out and made little remarks. No one blushed and stuttered and asked her questions like Lexa. That was it.

“Excellent lecture, Dr. Woods,” Clarke smiled as the professor climbed the stairs toward the exit. “Riveting material. I might go buy that book and read it now that you’ve explained what it all means.”

“Glad you could join us, Ms. Griffin,” she grinned. “I see you’ve visited our bookstore.”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded after looking down at her own shirt and the bag on her arm. “I thought I might as well.”

“Because why not,” Lexa tried. “You just appear, and you appeared again, and everything is bonkers and I’m in a coma.”

“I’m not sure about the last part.”

“Are you coming up?”

“I did come to see you.”

“Right. Right. Because that’s not crazy. I’m in a coma,” she shook her head and pushed the proper button to the floor her office was on. “I just keep running into the supermodel that has haunted my office for the past few weeks.”

“You’re not in a coma.”

“Sure.”

“I had fun last night. I thought it wouldn’t be terrible to see if you actually taught words and books and things.”

“And? How did I do?”

“I bought it.”

Lexa chuckled despite herself as they walked toward her office. She fiddled with the lock and finally tossed her bag on the chair when she made her way inside. Once again, Clarke stood there and surveyed, as if anything could change since the twelve hours since they’d been there together while the city slept.

“I suspect you’re not here for a question about my paper requirements.”

“I brought you a plant. I feel responsible for the other ones.”

“Trust me, it’s mostly me,” Lexa sighed before taking the offered pot. “But it’s kind of your fault.”

“This thing doesn’t need much light. I made sure.”

“Thank you.”

Clarke took a deep breath, suddenly with empty arms and not sure exactly what else there was left for her to do. So she shoved her hands in her back pockets and watched the professor pick a good spot for the new pot.

“I had fun last night. More fun than I’ve had in a long time,” she finally broke the stalemate. “I wanted to thank you for being normal near me.”

“I don’t know if I was especially normal,” Lexa shook her head. “But I am glad it was fun for you.”

“Would it be weird to ask for your number? To maybe be in touch when I come to town next?”

“My number?”

“Yes.”

“My telephone number?”

“No, your social.”

“What?”

“Yes, your phone number,” Clarke shook her head at the dense doctor across from her. “So I can call or text or something.”

“Oh. Yeah. That thing.”

Still, she didn’t move. Instead, she just stared at the person asking, as if she couldn’t believe it, because that didn’t make sense at all. But Clarke waited expectantly, done with her burst of eagerness for the day, high on the adrenaline of risk.

“I think I’m due back next week,” Clarke explained. “And then I’m back for a while, which will be nice. I haven’t been home in weeks.”

“Right. And now you’ve bought out our bookshop, so it makes sense.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m giving the girl on the lingerie billboard my phone number,” Lexa mumbled to herself. “She brought me a plant.”

“Do you have any more classes?” Clarke asked as she pocketed the piece of paper with digits on it.

“One at four.”

“Could I interest you in lunch?”

“With you?”

“Lexa. When are you going to get over the almost naked ad and model thing?”

“When you’re naked in my bed-- Oh fuck. I meant. No. What I meant was that I won’t ever get over it because that’ll never--- okay. See. The thing. You know? Okay. Stop.”

Clarke watched the panic set it and enjoyed being able to do that to someone who was so successful and talented and kind. It was all in a day’s work.

So the funny thing that Lexa never counted on after her hours spent avoiding opening her blinds, after her days spent staring at the pretty girl with the great personality, after weeks talking to said girl who was suddenly real and no longer a fantasy, was that the company she modeled for would give her things.

Or that she would be on the receiving end of pictures of some of their samples during office hours.

Or that she would get kind of attached to the stranger who appeared out of nowhere and convinced her that she was currently inhabiting a parallel universe in which she was, in fact, dead, like a shitty ending to a television show where the past few years were just a dream and really only a few days had passed in the real universe.

Or that, despite her own shortcomings as a person who got tongue tied near a pretty girl, she would still get texts and calls from a model.

Or that her crush would become a supercrush that might be reciprocated.

Or that when she said the black set of lace and such were her favorite, that Clarke would take it as an invitation to kill her and wear them when she came back to town.

Or that she would get to see them in person.

Or that she would get to take them off. In person.

“So, you believe I like you now?” Clarke asked, still out of breath and with her clothes tossed to all corners of the apartment.

“No.”

“Why?”

“Because I was prepared for the whole ‘she’s hot’ thing. Not for the whole funny and charming and nice thing.”

“So obviously I can’t like you?”

“Obviously.”

“We just fucked.”

“Clarke!” Lexa gasped.

“Hey, you’re the one that used that word a lot. Like a chant, actually,” Clarke smirked. “I like you, Lexa.”

“You’re the model wearing nothing in the ad across from my office,” she groaned, covering her face. “And now here you are.”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure I didn’t get hit by a bus?”

“No. But why not make this fantasy last a little longer if you did?” she reasoned.

For a long bit of heart beats acclimating to normal resting rate, Lexa considered it. She stared at the ceiling and debated.

“Why not.”

“Perfect.”

[scribomaniac]

A Matter of Time

[T-minus 24 hours] Light speed, light speed, light speed, Finn kept thinking over and over again as Poe and Rose spoke in hushed voices. They followed us through light speed. “They’re following us,” he said, just barely a whisper. He reached out and grabbed onto Poe’s arm—something strong enough to steady his fear—and immediately the other man’s attention was on him. “They’re following us.” “Yeah buddy,” Poe replied slowly, reaching up an arm of his own to squeeze Finn’s elbow. “We know that.” His brows furrowed and his eyes looked him over, trying to find any injury, any lasting effect of his coma that might be hindering his cognitive process. Finn shook his head and tightened his grip, “No, I mean, yes but—They’re following us. This ship! That’s how they’re doing it!” “Active tracking!” Rose shouted, her outburst surprising even herself. Gripping her necklace, she continued at a much lower volume, “Active tracking. They must have a tracker on their ship.” She crossed her arms over her chest, slowly becoming more and more uncomfortable with the attention they were giving her. “A powerful one, too. But that’s,” she frowned, “that’s still impossible...isn’t it? Through light speed, I mean—this’ll change—” “It’s the First Order,” Poe said grimly, cutting her off before her train of thought went too far down that dark tunnel.  If the First Order could track the Resistance through lightspeed… it wasn’t good.  They depended on lightspeed to strike their targets and then escape.  Guerrilla war tactics, Finn had once heard Captain Phasma sneer.  Without that edge of surprise, that ability to hit and run, then the fight was over. “I wouldn’t put it past them.” Vaguely, Finn realized that he was still holding onto Poe, and that Poe was still holding onto him. He wondered if he should let go, give the man some space. But then Poe’s eyes met his and the thought immediately vanished from his mind. Leaning in closer, he said, “We need to shut it down.” A million questions ran through Finn’s mind; most of them starting with what or how. It didn’t seem possible. To even shut the tracker down, they’d have to first get on The Supremacy. The Supremacy. Supreme Leader Snoke’s personal vessel. It was impossible. Impossible. But, a small voice in the back of Finn’s head reminded him, so was infiltrating Star Killer base. Infiltrating and surviving it. “I can do it.” Rose said. Her arms were no longer crossed over her chest, and instead were hanging by her side.  It was the first time Finn had seen her look so still, so confident.  When he’d first met her, she was so star struck by him-- him , a nobody, an ex-Stormtrooper--he’d understood why she’d chosen her position as a mechanic for the Resistance.  Down in the machinery of the ships, there was less chance of running into people, less chance of stumbling over words or saying the wrong thing, and many places to hide.  Now though, it was like looking at a completely different person.   Rose’s eyes flared with determination and her hands balled into fists.  She wasn’t hiding now, and she didn’t stutter as she said, “I can turn the tracker off. I know it.” Her eyes flickered back and forth between the two men, daring either of them to challenge her. Poe nodded slowly, his brows still furrowed, but Finn could see the light burning behind his eyes. He’d seen that fire before, right before he’d said the words that changed his life forever: “We’re gonna do this.” “Finn, do you know the layout of Snoke’s ship? Would you be able to get to the tracker?” Finn thought back to the days when he called The Supremacy home, when he’d shared a bunk in the barracks with two other fledgling Stormtroopers. It’d been a few years since he’d last set foot on the Mega-class Star Dreadnaught, but he still remembered it all like he’d been there just the other day. He nodded. “We still need to get on the ship,” Finn said, almost desperately. He wasn’t desperate for them to stop, though. No, his desperation came from the slow tremor of hope building its way up his belly and into his chest. He knew that light, knew that fire. He knew Poe. He’d know what to do, what to say, what was needed, “You need a pilot.” He knew then, just like he knew now. Poe  brushed his lower lip with his thumb, thinking. Then, snapping his fingers, he said, “BB-8!” Looking down at his droid, Poe let go of Finn and dropped down to look into its eye. “Buddy!” He rubbed BB-8’s metal sides as if it were a pet. BB-8 warbled and beeped its binary language rapidly, rolling forwards and backwards almost frenetically, obviously worried about whatever its master was about to propose. “You can do it, BB-8. I know you can.” More beeping and swaying, this time it sounded suspicious.  Poe talked to it in hushed tones, gently coaxing it to see his point of view, to agree with his idea.  Then, after a moment of silence, BB-8 whistled with an almost shy agreeance. “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”  Poe exclaimed. Springing up to his feet, Poe beamed like a proud parent, “BB-8 can get us on the ship.” Finn looked down at the small droid, a bit skeptical. BB-8 looked back up at him defiantly. Not wanting to get shocked twice in one night, he decided to just take Poe for his word. “But wait,” Rose shifted her weight from foot to foot as she tried to quell the rush of adrenaline in her veins, “what about the Vice Admiral? No way will Holdo approve this.” Lips thinning to a straight line and jaw tightening, Poe decided, “It’ll be a need to know mission.  She doesn’t.”  Finn didn’t know anything about this Vice-Admiral woman, but it seemed like Rose and Poe did, if only a little.  Based off their behavior, though, they didn’t seem to feel any sense of loyalty to her, or any trust.  And if Poe didn’t trust her, then neither would Finn. He looked at Finn while he said it, and Finn nodded in agreeance immediately. They held each other’s gaze for a moment longer before Poe winced, realizing something, and looked away, “That means I’ll have to stay here, then.” “What?” Finn asked, blinking dumbly. “Why?” “I’m too high ranking to go missing without permission.” Poe rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Finn felt there was something more to it, but—his eyes flickered over to Rose, the girl he’d just met and barely knew—didn’t push. “I’ll stay here,” Poe said again, slower this time and continuing with a definitive nod, “and make sure they don’t catch wind of what we’re doing.” “Good idea,” Rose said, biting down on her bottom lip while her hand clenched around the charm on her necklace again. “How much time left until we run out of fuel?” BB-8 whirred in answer, “Less than twenty four hours,” Poe translated. “Okay,” Rose said, her knuckles white against her necklace. “Okay. Then we better get moving.” Snapping her attention to Finn, she said, “Grab whatever you need and meet me back by the escape pods in thirty minutes.” She stepped away, getting as far as the door, then turned back around and added, “And don’t try to run away again.” Poe waited until they could no longer hear the tapping of her feet against the metal floors before asking, “What does that mean? Running away? Again?” Finn gulped and looked down at the cloaked binary beacon still wrapped around his wrist. He felt a little guilty about it, now. When he’d woken up before, he’d thought only of Rey and making sure she was okay. That she was safe. The last thing he’d remembered were flashes of snow, Rey, and danger. They’d been on Star Killer base and Kylo Ren was after them. And he’d...he’d picked up the lightsaber. As if he were some sort of hero or something. Then he remembered the pain. A med-droid had filled him in on the gaps: Kylo Ren had taken the lightsaber and sliced into his back, tearing through his muscles and burning each bone along his spinal column as he shoved the ex-Stormtrooper back into his place. Finn vaguely remembered the sensation, the blazing pain along his back, just briefly, before everything turned black. When he’d woken up, he thought it had all been a dream. Some strange, fantastical dream. His back felt perfectly fine, even. He felt warm and safe for the first time in his life.  He’d felt so relaxed, so at peace, that he’d even kept his eyes closed for a bit, allowed himself to continue to rest. It had barely lasted ten minutes before memories of Star Killer base had returned to him, and he’d shot out of bed with Rey’s name on his lips. He’d been thinking about Rey and only Rey. Poe hadn’t even entered his mind when he’d grabbed his things and made for the escape pod. The revelation hit him harder than any Dreadnaught shot, and left a nasty taste in his mouth. “I was trying,” he started, then frowned and shook his head. His gaze was still locked on the beacon on his wrist, “I just wanted—” he cut himself off again. Anything he’d say now would just sound like an excuse. Rose was right, he was a coward. A hand, rough and scarred from more battles, ship maintenance and explosions, curled around Finn’s wrist, and his dark eyes snapped up to Poe’s. “Rey,” he whispered. His lips were thin and bloodless, strained as he bit back whatever thoughts wanted to spill out of his mouth. His eyes, though, they were soft and far more understanding than anyone in the pilot’s shoes should be. The sight made Finn’s heart clench and mouth feel as though it were suddenly filled with bile. “You we’re trying to keep her safe.” Finn nodded, feeling as though he’d lost the ability to speak lifetimes ago. He was a coward, a traitor, he was selfish and terrible and— “I understand,” Poe said, making all the thoughts rushing through Finn’s head come to an immediate halt. How’d he do it? Finn wondered. How could he forgive him? Understand him? He made it seem so easy. Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, Finn tried to think of something to say. Something to make it all better—coward, traitor, selfish—he looked down at Poe’s fingers, still wrapped around his wrist. His pulse throbbed visibly through his skin, pounding away and making the beacon twitch ever so slightly. “Here,” he just barely grounded out, his shaky fingers ripping the beacon off his wrist and pressing it into Poe’s hand. Eyes widening, Poe shook his head and tried to give it back, but Finn persisted, “No, please, I—I need you to hold onto it. I need it to be safe.” I know you’ll keep her safe, went unsaid, but as their gazes held, Finn tried to to convey that thought, that belief. Brow furrowing, Poe nodded. His Adam’s Apple bobbled as he swallowed, the movement drawing away Finn’s eye. Beacon carefully clasped in one hand, Poe placed both hands on Finn’s shoulders, “I won’t let you down, buddy.” Coward, traitor, selfish —Finn nodded, keeping his thoughts on Poe before him, on the mission before him. It grounded his thoughts, just enough for him to nod and say, “Me neither.” Poe pulled him closer, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip nervously.  They were only a breath apart now, so close to embracing like they did that day on D’Qar, after they both realized the other was still alive. Poe looked like wanted to say something, or do something, but Finn—watching frozen with wide eyes—didn’t know which.   “You two done yet?” Rose’s voice broke through the trance. Finn blinked, startled—had it been a half hour already?—and tried to step away. Poe held fast though, his fingers clenching into the leather of his old jacket, and glared softly over his shoulder at Rose. Unperturbed by his stare, she added, “Just kiss already and let’s go!” Brows furrowing, Finn frowned and looked between the two official members of the Resistance They were still staring each other down; Rose’s lips twitched, almost like she wanted to laugh, while Poe looked almost murderous, his face flushed red with what Finn assumed was anger or frustration. “Yeah,” Finn said, breaking the silence and the stare down with one word. “Yeah, let’s go.” He grabbed his pack and turned to follow Rose when Poe’s hand shot out and grabbed his forearm.  “Poe?” He asked after a few seconds of silence. Taking a deep breath through his nose, Poe slowly let go of him. Clearing his throat, he said, “Just—” he stopped and shook his head, “Bring BB-8 back to me, all right?” Looking down at the droid briefly, Finn’s mouth set into a determined line, “I will. I promise.” 

[marketingatlightspeedreadin-blog]

Games You Might Not Have Tried #11 – Find New Games – Extra Credits

I sure hope you folks enjoy watching these as much as I like making ’em, because… I don’t know, these are fun! These episodes always take us a couple of months to put together, so by the time each one comes out, James has already got a new batch of games to recommend. Anyway! You know the drill. We don’t promise that all these games are good, just that they’re different.

Their design is interesting in some way, even if the most interesting thing about them is how they failed to achieve what they’re setting out to do. Anyway, enough talk. Have at you! Zero Time Dilemma. Years ago, we recommended 999 in one of these episodes. It’s been quite the journey since then, but now the franchise (or at least this chapter of it) is coming to a close, and the story is perhaps one of the best yet in the series. The graphics… not so much, but don’t let that deter you. This game may handily demonstrate just how much better 2D graphics can look, and that switching to 3D isn’t always the best choice, but, if you’ve followed the series so far, you owe it to yourself to finish this one out. And if you haven’t checked these games out yet, well, maybe get on that. Inside. We would be remiss if we didn’t mention this one.

Brought to you by the creators of Limbo, this is a dark and mysterious run through a puzzle-filled testing facility. James didn’t find it quite as compelling as Limbo, but it’s still a solid title, and the atmosphere alone is worth your time if you want to learn how to build that sort of oppressive feeling into your own games. Reverse Crawl. James just tore through this one. It’s one of those, “just one more battle” type games that’ll have you so sucked in that you won’t realize the sun is rising and, oops, you didn’t sleep. The really interesting thing about this game is that it takes the “Heroes of Might and Magic” or “Kings Bounty” formula, and does away with the exploration.

Now, that might sound terrible – James felt that way too, at first. I mean, exploration kind of seems like the lifeblood of those games. But by doing away with the exploration, Reverse Crawl is able to make the combat much tighter, with specifically designed encounters and a progression system that really makes the player consider what they want to be able to play with. Add to that the fact that the player can’t just barge into battle with a ridiculously broken combination of units, but instead has to pick from a wide variety of pre-made unit groupings for each encounter, and you get a tightly designed experience.

You can even beat it in one night if you don’t sleep. I don’t recommend it, but, I’m just saying, you could. ([evil laugh]) (And this, my distinguished gentlebots,) (is the new SteamWorld!) SteamWorld Heist. Since we’re talking strategy games, let’s talk about this pleasantly surprising little gem. This is a game that takes all the conventions of our isometric or top-down tactics games, and puts them on a 2D plane. And it works! It works because the designers considered how 2D might change the formula, what they might be able to do with the design in 2D that’d be harder in one of those other formats. And the conclusion they came to was to make you aim manually.

Yep, this is a tactics game like any other, but sort of like Valkyria Chronicles, when it comes time to shoot, you’ve gotta eyeball it. With no reticle to guide you, this makes variables like cover become a much more interesting and interactive element of the game than we saw even in games like XCOM. So, if you’re looking for a quirky tactics game, or even just like thinking about how we can push the formula, you might want to check out SteamWorld Heist. (And of course it all went according to plan…) Now, a whole lot of you asked if we could talk about some tablet and mobile games on one of these lists, so let me just throw a slew of those at you before we get back to the weird PC games. Let’s start with Galactic Keep. Galactic Keep is exactly what I always wanted a storybook adventure to be when I was young. It takes some of the work done in Steve Jackson’s excellent Sorcery series to the next level and really makes you feel like you’re playing a solo tabletop role-playing module.

Seriously. I’m not sure I’ve ever felt more like I was at the Barrier Peaks without a GM screen on the table. Out There. This game has no combat, and yet, it is brutal. It’s a roguelike survival adventure where you are the last surviving member of humanity trying to make it home. Its vignettes are excellently written, but unlike most story driven games, you will not easily reach the end of this story. I think it’s the very fact that Out There presents a harsh universe where you will die time and again before ever being able to see one of its many endings that kept drawing James back. If you like sci-fi, if you like roguelikes, if you like narrative and are interested in a brutal challenge that never once involves firing a blaster, you better check this out.

Icebound Concordance. Speaking of writing, here is a game that is all about writing. Or rather, it’s all about rewriting. The game itself is a conversation with an AI built from the mind of a writer, and you are there to help it edit and rewrite its last book. That’s pretty interesting in its own right, but then you get to the real bit: the Icebound Compendium. If you’re willing to pony up $25 to pick up the companion book, you are in for something…

Novel. I can’t say much about the Compendium without spoiling things, but, suffice it to say that periodically throughout the game you will be prompted to search through the book for pages related to some of what’s going on on-screen. Then, the game will use your iPad camera to scan the pages and to make the book itself come to life. My only complaint here is that the book itself is poorly made. The cover fell off the binding of James’ copy before it even got through the mail. Of course, that’s a sample size of one James, so hopefully yours will be sturdier. (♪ This is the Guild of Dungeoneering,) (♪ On our quest, we’re never fearing…) The Guild of Dungeoneering.

This game is here simply as an example of what a difference platform can make. James found this to be a mediocre strategy title when he first played it on PC, but on a tablet, its lighter shorter sessions and more casual strategy experience really works. If you want a relaxing strategy game to play on the go, it’s worth trying. Really though, this game is worth buying for the songs alone. (♪ The Guild of Dungeoneering!) (♪ Curse and swear, but don’t despair,) (♪ The way out appears to be over there,) (♪ I think we’re lost, but what do we care?) (♪ The Guild of Dungeoneering!) Templar Battleforce.

I haven’t tried this game on PC, but the mobile version was exactly what James was looking for in a slightly more hardcore tactics game. If you want to play Space Hulk, but the actual modern Space Hulk video game didn’t cut it for you, get Templar Battleforce. It’s everything Space Hulk should be. It’s got an interesting class system, a varied advancement tree, multiple ways to customize units of the same class, and yet the levels are short enough to play on the go. Alright, that’s enough mobile games. Let’s return to the PC, and let’s get weird.

Cat Lady. We so rarely get to recommend adventure games, so I’m glad we get to talk about this piece of weirdness. There are a lot of counter-intuitive design decisions in this game: sometimes on purpose, sometimes as pitfalls of the old-school adventure game ethos, but if you’re looking for something surreal, creepy, and dark, Cat Lady has you covered. The art style perfectly fits the madness, feeling at times like Monty Python channeling Poe.

And the decision to do away with the mouse entirely in an old-school adventure game and streamline things by going with a keyboard interface alone? That’ll put you on a “Games You Might Not Have Tried” list. Fran Bow. We can’t talk about horror games without talking Fran Bow. If you want disturbing and strange, this game has it in spades, but it’s the ambiguity of this game that I love. I’ll try not to spoil anything, but let’s just say, the game leaves itself open for interpretation, and I think that’s great. Too often, horror stories try to explain all their nightmarish surreality, and in doing so, kill the horror. That’s not to say that horror stories shouldn’t make sense, but leaving your nightmare world as an ambiguous metaphor is often so much better than feeling like you have to tie up all the loose ends by saying something like, “See? It was a dream all along!” Fran Bow is an excellent example of this.

Killing Time at Lightspeed. I love the premise of this game. You’ve left Earth. You’re traveling away at light speed, but you can still see your Facebook feed. But here’s the catch: at relativistic speed, every time you hit refresh, a year has passed. You can touch base for one snapshot of everyone’s lives back home then it whirls past and time moves on – for them, if not for you. My only complaint is that most of the time, most of my friends back home simply talked about the news, and for me at least, that’s not how social networks work. That’s a big part of it to be sure, but it’s in the background of all the tiny day-to-day things that people post. I would have loved to have more emphasis on the personal, on the relationships of people and their daily lives, as that backdrop would have given the big events of the world that much more impact, seeing how they affected the people I loved even as I whipped away from them at the speed of light.

Anyway, neat game. Try it out. And finally, Quadrilateral Cowboy. What happens when you mix stealth capers with command line hacking and a PS1 visual aesthetic? Well, you get Quadrilateral Cowboy. Your mileage may vary with the art style, but there is something so cyberpunk about actually hooking up a computer to a jack and having to turn off a security laser with a series of semicolon delineated commands. Am I alone, though, in this making me long for a multiplayer game where one player plays the stealth action hero, and the other one plays their off-site hacker buddy? Like, unlocking the doors and shutting off security cameras in the nick of time with a command-line interface? That would be rad. Somebody, get on that. Anyway, I think that’ll do it for today. Thank you for watching; recommend some of your own weird favorites in the comments below, and we will see you next week..

For More Info : Visit Here : Light Speed Reading

[pinesconessecrets]

For @astronycto! Have some fluffy pinescone goodness to keep you warm during these cold winter months ;)

According to Greg, Wirt is a habitual procrastinator. If Wirt had argued when that inaccurate assessment of his character was announced- Which he didn’t, because he’s recently been trying to let small things slide. He’s been practicing this so that when something big happens, his reaction can be taken at least somewhat seriously. Unfortunately, in this attempt of escaping his dramatic label, his pushover one has been rewritten in bolded lettering.

But, if he had argued, he would have pointed out that he has not procrastinated once in his entire lifetime, ever. Does Wirt sometimes spend more time planning and fleshing out a project than he does actually doing said project? Yes. Always, in fact.

This is because meticulously perfecting every little detail of an assignment, or a task, or- or a proposal , if you will, is by absolutely no means on the same level as procrastinating. It’s on the opposite end of the scale, really; A commendable pastime rather than a pathetic one.

It’s this exact line of logic that has led Wirt to devoting over six months of his life devising the right way to ask Dipper Pines to go on a date with him.

The door to his room abruptly starts to open, sending Wirt into an unproductive spiral of full blown panic.

He should be trying to make a lightspeed decision of whether or not to attempt to hide the countless papers covered in humiliating plans of romantic seduction that surround him on his bed. Or grab his wand, in case of the rare event of him remembering a useful spell. Jump out the window, maybe. Instead, he hyperventilates and sits paralyzed atop of his comforter.

“Woof,” Sarah expresses upon her rebellious and uninvited entry into his dorm, “Getting an early start on your homework? That’s not like you.”

Wirt suavely wheezes in response.

“Yeah, yeah. You’ve given me the speech before,” She rolls her eyes, plopping down on the bed across from him and sending parchment flying, “ No girls in the boys dormitories, it’s against the school rules, blah blah, I don’t want people to think things. I hate to be the one to break this to you dude, but in order for people to assume that we’re hooking up, they’d have to believe that you’re straight. No one’s thought that since we were eleven.”

Wirt’s temples grow damp as Sarah’s gaze lands on one of the now crumpled papers by her crossed legs, “I could love a woman.”

She thankfully looks up at that, eyebrows waggling, “But could you love her right ?”

He swallows, fidgeting with the quill between his fingers, “Was… Was that innuendo?”

“You’re starting to catch on,” She grins, leaning in Wirt’s direction to deliver what he guesses to be a pat on his knee or some sort of friendly gesture to that effect.

He guesses wrong, of course, because Lady Luck has never sided with him once and he should really have learned that lesson by now-

Sarah stealthily snatches up one of the papers closest to him and darts over to the far side of his room, eyes scanning the page with a fierce quickness.

With his face ablaze, Wirt emits a short cry of outrage, jumping to his feet and chasing her down with long strides that are the one positive thing his gangly legs are dependable for. He tears the paper out of her villainous clutches, manners be damned, and aims an affronted look her way.

“Are they on the quidditch team?” She questions, her words stumbling over each other in their rush to get out before Wirt can admonish the unspeakably rude behavior.

“What?” He blurts, voice reaching an embarrassingly high pitch that he will never admit to being capable of.

“Quidditch,” She repeats, expression so suddenly somber that Wirt can’t help but momentarily forget his anger, “Do they play?”

He blinks, rapidly, “ Um. They- No-”

Sarah screams, the joyous tone of the shout not doing a thing to help Wirt feel less horrified. On the contrary, dread and terror are seeping into his bones quite spectacularly.

“What? What? What ? What are- Are you-?!”

She grabs both of his shoulders with her talon-like fingers and squeezes, hard enough that Wirt both shuts up and winces. A second cry of delight is released directly into his face.

“Pines?” She squeals, pointedly shaking the paper in Wirt’s grip while simultaneously draining all color from his face, “I’ve been the Hufflepuff mascot for years; I know all of the players on every team by name- Mabel Pines is a Gryffindor chaser, and she has a brother! ‘I could love a woman’ my ass- Oh my god, is this what you’ve been obsessing over forever? I can’t believe you have a real crush-!”

He claps a trembling, probably sweaty hand over her mouth, uncaring of the potential grossness in that moment, “Sorry, but can you speak up a little please? There might be a few people in Hogsmeade who missed that.”

Practically vibrating with elation, Sarah peels the hand off of her mouth to beam at him.

“Sorry,” She whispers, looking everything but, “You should tell him.”

Wirt scoffs, hands awkwardly fumbling in midair before landing in the intended gesture to the parchment littering his bedspread and the floor around the area, “Yes, well, what do you think I’m doing?”

The smile drops from her face, replaced with a look of something resembling pinched pity, “Oh no. You’re doing… that thing you do.”

“Uh,” He takes an unsure step away from her, scrabbling for a response, “Wh- What thing? I don’t have a thing.”

“You do. This thing,” Sarah frowns, crossing her arms and then chewing her lip, “… I’ll have to take action. You understand.”

He shakes his head, desperately, mouth going dry, “No, I don’t. I really, really-”

Her horribly stubborn mind made up, she snatches the paper yet again and sprints out of the room, ignoring the several squawks of protest that follow her out the door.

Wirt doesn’t go after her, simply out of fear of what gossip could come from someone seeing him chasing down a girl running out of his dorm. Sarah, the cunning hellion, probably knows this.

With a final, unsatisfying noise of annoyance/agony, he throws himself on both his mattress and the incriminating parchment, bemoaning every choice he’s made that’s led him up to this point. In doing so, his dramatic label returns in an even louder font than before.

Sarah expertly avoids him for almost two weeks. Not an easy feat, considering how many class periods they share.

He would like to report that the issue has completely slipped from his mind and that he’s occupied himself with schoolwork and the like. He would love to.

As it is, with each day that passes by without incident, Wirt’s anxiety over the matter unhelpfully and unhealthily multiplies. He’s little more than a low-functioning skin sack overflowing with crippling angst at this point.

Today is hopefully going to pour out at least a portion of the potent unease filling his- him- He’s lost the metaphor, but he has not lost the cautious optimism brought on by the Quidditch match starting in mere minutes.

He is not a sports man himself, true. It is also true that he’s not at all excited by the prospect of idly standing around, watching balls flying through the air and being chased around in a repetitive, violent game that can last for hours .

No, he’s more so looking forward to ogling the Gryffindor team’s unofficial head cheerleader. His binoculars dangle cheerfully from his neck in preparation as he climbs the stairs to claim his usual spot in the towering Hufflepuff bleachers.

This has been going on since, well, since the first match Mabel Pines played in Wirt’s fifth year. He had been dragged to the game by an overenthusiastic Greg, who couldn’t contain his delight over watching his first school quidditch match with his first sibling in his first year- It was as insufferable and adorable as it sounded.

Accompanying the Gryffindor’s team new chaser was a twin brother so supportive it surpassed extra and so sweet it made Wirt’s chest ache. Watching the cute brunet in the tower across from him scream and flail and jump had been… endearing. And Wirt had envied his confidence. That was all it had been. For months .

It escalated, obviously, because Wirt’s hobbies include reading flowery poetry and overthinking all of his relationships with people, no matter the status; Friend, family, classmate, stranger that he’s been staring at for a wildly inappropriate duration of time, professor.

After his admittedly nonsensical crush on the boy fully developed, Wirt began his action plan. Began planning his action plan, he means. Of course.

But he has done some rather daring things aside from formulating a few risque, hypothetical situations for the wooing process. He- He had inconspicuously asked around until he got the guy’s name and- and- and continued to regularly make eyes through binoculars at Dipper . Whom he has never actually seen up close.

“Progress ,” He weakly lies to himself under his breath as he finds a good place to sit.

His hands wrap around the binoculars and hold them over his eyes, guiding the object in different directions to assist him in his hunt for the place where Dipper can typically be found. The spot is almost immediately discovered (what with his unsavory amount of practice), but there doesn’t appear to be an exuberant ball of eye candy anywhere near the area.

Wirt lowers his binoculars in confusion. The puzzlement he feels quickly shifts into crushing disappointment as potential scenarios for Dipper’s absence flood his head; Each speculative train of thought growing more devastating than the last.

Mourning the loss of his possibly busy/sick/lost/evil/murdered soul mate, Wirt’s circumspect optimism slumps along with his posture. This month is shaping up to be one of unadulterated suck.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” Wirt drones, feeling miserable and doubtlessly looking even worse as his head turns in the direction of the person who’s sat beside him.

Shock shoves despair out of the spotlight with inhumane force as Wirt locks eyes with- with- with-

“Dipper,” Dipper sticks an unsure hand out at Wirt, face pink, “We, uh… I sit behind you? In History Of Magic.”

Wirt stares. This is news to him. But it would be, bearing in mind that it’s Wirts first class of the day and he tends to sleep through it rather soundly.

What a fucking mistake that was; For both his love life and his grades. Kill him.

Self hatred striking him like a brick to the skull, he nods, “Yeah. Yes. Be- Behind me. I know.”

He didn’t. He super did not, in fact, but he would bet every single Knut in his vault that Sarah super did . They will be having words. Whenever he’s able to hunt her down, that is.

“Yeah,” Dipper is smiling, an image that Wirt should be very used to, but the uncertainty in his expression is very different from what he’s used to being audience to, “So… your name…?”

Wirt almost dives off of the bleachers when he remembers the hand that Dipper’s been holding out for a while now is meant to be shaken, “Sorry. I- Wirt. Me. I’m Wirt.”

Bury him in the dirt. He still hasn’t grabbed the guy’s hand, for the love of everything-

“Wirt,” Dipper repeats, taking the initiative to grab Wirt’s horribly limp hand and pump their joined hands up and down a few awkward times, “Nice to meet you.”

His skin is soft, so soft, dear lord , “Same.”

It has to be illegal to be this socially inept, someone should just take him the hell out-

“So, uh,” Dipper’s voice cracks and he doesn’t release Wirt’s hand after the uncomfortable handshake, “I want to take you out.”

Good god, a volunteer- Oh. Oh .

“Oh,” Wirt is nothing if not an eloquent man.

“I know,” Dipper is no longer pink, but a vibrant red as his words per minute rate charges into warp speed, “This seems kind of out of nowhere doesn’t it? W- Well, it’s not. Sort of. Sure, uh, we’ve never talked before. So, this is definitely weird. I get that, but not really, because I’ve been trying to figure out how to do this since the start of the semester. I actually wrote a script for this, but my sister found it and- and it is now destroyed. Which is probably for the best, but whatever thick layer of cheese was on that paper has to be better than this. This is a mess. I am a mess. And I’m going to go. Sorry about… Me.”

Dipper’s hand slides out of his own as he stands from the bleachers and turns to leave with a quickness that has Wirt scrambling. He has to think fast and that is by no means a strong suit of his.

“Kay,” Is the first thing to loudly and stupidly slip from his mouth.

Dipper shuffles his feet, turning his neck to look back with distress clearly written on his face, “What?”

Wirt, appearing equally woeful, doesn’t know, “Earlier. I- I was trying to say okay. Oh. Kay. To taking me out. Okay. Okay?”

A broad grin that Wirt is much more accustomed to seeing slowly stretches Dipper’s mouth, “Okay.”

Wirt might’ve smiled back, he’s not positive. And he really doesn’t think to check, once the quite demanding distraction of the entirety of the Gryffindor Quidditch tower rhythmically stomping and clapping starts up.

“ Okay! ” An amplified, horribly familiar voice joins the stomping.

Whatever mood the two had been close to finding immediately darts back into expert hiding.

A honey badger on a broomstick confirms Wirt’s fears, showboating around the Gryffindor bleachers before zooming to the middle of the Quidditch field.

Wirt turns to Dipper, not too far away from bursting into tears, “I sincerely apologize for whatever is about to happen.”

Dipper’s eyebrows raise, “Wha- Oh my god.”

A second broomstick is in the air, this one not holding up an intrusive girl in a fursuit, but a brunette in a Gryffindor Quidditch uniform.

“Same to you,” Dipper meekly continues.

They brace themselves, the both of them fighting the urge to interchangeably dive or enthusiastically flip off of the tower.

The stomping and clapping continue, joined with a horrible vocal parody of Queen’s We Will Rock You , the traditional words replaced with a foreboding, You Should Go Out. Sarah and who Wirt assumes to be Dipper’s twin sister Mabel begin to fly through the air again, puffs of thick white smoke trailing behind their brooms in true Elphaba fashion.

Dipper and Wirt emit noises of intense emotional suffering in unison.

In no time at all the chanting in the Gryffindor bleachers reaches a crescendo and ends. As this happens, the writing in the air can be very clearly read as ‘ Dipper and Wirt Should Totally Date ’. With over five exclamation points. Fireworks go off. Wirt cries.

Sarah and Mabel begin to head in their direction at a frightening speed. Running would be futile.

“Wirt!” Sarah giddily screeches before the pair of girls come to a stopping point directly in front of him, “Ask him!”

The crowd whoops their support as the furry lightly touches Wirt’s throat with the tip of her wand. Wirt coughs, the sound echoing nerve-wrackingly as everyone quiets. The silence huffs down his neck, expectation on its breath.

He swallows, glancing over at Dipper’s shocked/horrified/pretty face before croaking, “He already asked me.”

Dipper clears his throat, and Mabel’s wand is pressed against his neck.

“He said yes,” Dipper mumbles, running a nervous hand through his mass of fluff parading as hair.

“Yeah,” Wirt lamely confirms.

The pathetic smattering of applause the finale of the overly dramatic display earns is almost as humiliating as the display itself. Almost.

Mabel and Sarah flee before revenge can strike. And make no mistake, Wirt is planning on a hefty amount of revenge and it is guaranteed to be cruel. Whenever he gets around to exacting it, of course.

The game announcer thankfully takes pity on them and changes the subject by beginning to introduce the players. Everyone moves on in an attempt to smother the cringe they all feel, but this specific brand of mortification is comparable only to a particularly out of control internal forest fire.

Wirt knows this, because he himself is currently trying to let the flames consume him.

“… Hogsmeade trip this weekend,” Dipper mentions, his voice trembling with chagrin.

“Yes,” He responds, voice quaking similarly.

“We could meet at The Three Broomsticks?” Dipper smiles, wryly, “If you still want-”

“I want. I do. Uh. Yes,” Wirt hatefully rubs at his face, “Sounds good.”

“Good,” Dipper nods, and jerks a thumb over his shoulder, “So, I’m gonna head back to my dorm and… maybe cast a memory charm on myself.”

“Understandable,” Wirt’s lips twitch, “See you this weekend- Or, w- well, in History Of Magic tomorrow, I guess.”

“Looking forward to it,” Dipper grins.

And it is inarguably awkward, but it also sweet , so Wirt has to fake no sincerity whatsoever when he replies, “Me too.”

[chicagoindiecritics]

New from Every Movie Has a Lesson by Don Shanahan: REWIND REVIEW: Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker

(Image: hollywoodreporter.com)

For an occasional new segment, Every Movie Has a Lesson will cover upcoming home media releases combining an “overdue” or “rewind” film review, complete with life lessons, and an unboxed look at special features.

STAR WARS: THE RISE OF SKYWALKER

Big as a billboard in some places and as small as a mobile ad in others, the marketing imagery of Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker touts the tagline “The Saga Will End.” There’s something to be said for finality, especially with a 42-year-old franchise as venerated and cherished as this one. The virtues of remembrance, culmination, gratification, and other such lofty notions loom so much larger when an entity is billed to be the last of something important. The movie in disc form hits store shelves everywhere today.

LESSON #1: THE DEFINITION OF “FINALITY” — Diving deeper beyond the basic “something that is final” meaning, the dictionary of this galaxy describes “finality” as “conclusiveness,” “decisiveness,” or “an ultimate act, utterance, or belief.” J.J. Abrams’ massive space opera follows his own The Force Awakens and Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi to aim so very badly for those traits. In many peaks of scope and emotion, his movie achieves such finality. In others, overindulgence and disarray put question marks on the value or vindication of all this promised fulfillment.

Going back to the tagline, the key word out of that poster’s sentence becomes “will.” As grand of a finale as The Rise of Skywalker builds itself to be, the likelihood of its stewarding studio turning off this cash cow is zip, zilch, and zero. This saga had an ending already in 1983 and another in 2005. Those had legitimate finality. Time will tell if this one, and its willy-nilly trajectories, will resonate strong enough or long enough to be of honored and revered significance.

ANTICIPATORY SET AND PRIOR KNOWLEDGE:

.Announcing his presence to the galaxy (and to us immediately in the yellow title scroll), a resurrected Emperor Palpatine (Ian McDiarmid) has elevated the First Order into the Final Order with his Sith influence and the manufactured might of a colossal new fleet of Star Destroyers. His orders to his acolyte, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren (Adam Driver), are simply to “kill the girl.” That embattled female target remains Rey (Daisy Ridley), who has spent the undetermined amount of time since the Battle of Crait on the sidelines away from Resistance efforts to continue her Jedi training under the tutelage of General Leia Organa (the late Carrie Fisher).

LESSON #2: CONFRONTING FEARS— As she continues to grow in immeasurable power and skill, Rey endures visions abound of possible future fates that hinge on an eventual rubber match with the former Ben Solo. Matching a quintessential Star Wars motif, Rey has become the next emerging hero obligated to stare down the opposition with a will strengthened by summoned bravery. With “never be afraid of who you are” encouragement, Rey’s fears are hefty emotional obstacles made thoroughly compelling by Daisy Ridley’s lead performance, her best in the series. She may not be given the best scripted material (more on that later), but the actress squeezes every drop of rooting vulnerability out of this crucial plight.

Meanwhile, Rey’s supportive comrades and Resistance operatives, including Poe (Oscar Isaac), Finn (John Boyega), and Chewbacca (Joonas Suotamo), help her stay a step ahead of Kylo Ren and his masked squad of weaponized knights. Flanked by their handy droids, the tight crew zealously join Rey’s pursuit of items and information deemed vital for the fledgling revolutionaries being able to bring the fight to Palpatine instead of awaiting overwhelming decimation. The invisible ticking clock urgency to blow enemies away and prevent “all for nothing” disappointment sets the plot off on numerous (as in too many) busy-bodied and lightspeed races and chases with weakly-presented MacGuffins in the crosshairs.

LESSON #3: THE VALUE OF PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL SUPPORT— Long has Star Wars been about populating a heightened unity in support of influential individuals. Call it amassing an army or the intimate recruitment of trusted friends. For Rey, her verbalized chant is the powerful wish of “be with me.” It is answered with “we have each other.” Whomever stands behind the lead antagonist or comes to the aid of the lead protagonist does so with fervent dedication and multiplying motivation. True to this now ancient battle of dark versus light, not all assistance entering the fray comes in corporeal form.

MY TAKE:

J.J. Abrams has always been more than capable at delivering sheer adventure for the silver screen. His urge for kinetic energy is answered by the polished production teams. Borrowed from good buddy Steven Spielberg, two-time Oscar-winning production designer Rick Carter teamed with VFX concept artist Kevin Jenkins to create otherworldly arenas of flash and flair. J.J.’s trusty cinematographer Dan Mindel (five previous collaborations between them) captured the accelerated action set to every possible hymn, horn, and hurrah from retiring composer legend John Williams. Merging four decades of cues and themes with impeccable placement and push, Williams earned that 52nd career Oscar nomination. Flying through this fantastical world will always remain a rousing treat. The wonderment and magic is there.

That said, no amount of razzle-dazzle filling eyes and ears can cover up the glaring examples of questionable creativity and incomplete development enacted by Abrams and lead screenwriter Chris Terrio. Even in a third film meant to wrap up storylines, The Rise of Skywalker compels itself to introduce even more tangents and swerves. It has characters that answer questions with more questions and moments ringing with vague parables rather than stamping cemented mythology. The arcs for Ridley and Driver fare the best, but the periphery is scattered with superfluous glaze. The isolation elements of The Last Jedi slowed matters down to create tangible suspense. This overpacked trilogy capper favors sprinting set pieces instead. Moving at a rush does not automatically or always create one in return, magic be damned.

To explain more crosses into spoiler territory, but there are downright mistakes here that expose the distance between forming merely a sense of finality, albeit a forcibly telegraphed one, and garnering a true, earned, and fitting consummation. Gauge all of this ambition straight toward the many synonyms of “finality.” Measure this film for “decisiveness,” “totality,” “resolution,” and even “integrity.” You may find its force more thin than thick.

3 STARS

EXTRA CREDIT: 

(Image courtesy of Disney)

For the first time in quite a while (re: see every Marvel disc release in ten years), Disney has finally put out a stellar disc release worthy of full purchase ahead of merely a digital download of the feature itself. All it took was a legitimate and immersive behind-the-scenes documentary that actually showed the full filmmaking process. Little seven to fifteen minute featurettes can’t do that, no matter how many of them you pretend to pack on a second disc, not when half of them feel like sales pitches instead of documentation. 

The Rancor-sized beast feature in question is the feature-length The Skywalker Legacy documentary.  Running a rich 126 minutes, the documentary follows the film’s production process from pillar to post. The access and observational intimacy into the process is phenomenal. Best all, they merge little flashbacks to the making-of footage of the original trilogy, making that “legacy” in the title the perfect term.

Those callbacks are some of the best moments to savor in the documentary because they each pile on a full circle of reflection and completion. For example, to see and hear Anthony Daniels compare walking onto the Tunisian heat with uncertainty in 1976 to stepping off the set in the same costume for the last time over 40 years later as a legend is beyond a treat. It’s a moment of pure satisfaction. Moments and threads like that are echoed and repeated for Mark Hamill, Harrison Ford, and the memory of Carrie Fisher, especially how this production had to remember here while finding a way to go on without her.

Probably the best legacy moment captured in The Skywalker Legacy is when director J.J. Abrams brought composer John Williams on the set to film a first-time cameo. After Williams finishes shooting his bit, J.J. has the octogenarian look around the “junk” around his character’s workshop table. Each tarnished prop in view was purposely constructed to represent all 51 of Williams’ Oscar-nominated scores. That’s an incredible display of easter eggs that will drop your jaw and just a taste of the complete devotion and keen respect J.J. Abrams operates with the entire shoot.

The figure to watch (and being watched) the most is Abrams. His insistence, no matter the time, resources, and expense, to shoot with as many physical layers of creation and authenticity as possible is extremely commendable. From black bean quicksand and an alien festival to the wild energy of scene-stealing stunt coordindator Eunice Huthart, the massive volume of sets, costumes, vehicle rigs, and puppetry is off the charts.  The armies of people who train and put their heart, soul, and sweat into work that may only be seen mere seconds or minutes on-screen is dizzying. All the while, his skillful focus and constant smile make the pressures and expectations and returns look invisible.

Outside of the feature-length centerpiece, there are few more samples of blockbuster dessert. They come in the form of five smaller featurettes.  Even these still beat the Disney/Marvel entries of talking schills and put their focus on the stories behind the movie. 

One of the best of them is “Aliens on the Desert.” It’s a quick six minutes, but it outlines all of the set-up work in Jordan, where the visiting humans are the foreigners to the rugged vistas, that happens even before the circus-level main unit arrives. The scale of teamwork and practicality from the gear-loaded teams is something not normally shown for behind-the-scenes material that more often loves their headliners. The 14-minute “Pasaana Pursuit” feature is similar in its background focus.

If artistry gets you awestruck, you will enjoy the “Cast of Creatures” featurette. Like their shining moments in The Skywalker Legacy, the merger of makeup, engineering design, and puppetry have long made the fictional living things in Star Wars more tangible than any CGI power. This short is a tribute to the folks underneath the heavy gyros, foam, and rubber shells. The new droid D-O also gets a quick five-minute-and-change video on its character genesis of the more mechanical nature.

The final featurette is “Warwick & Son” and it’s the smile-inducing parting glance to the special features and nine-film saga. This snippet chronicles actor Warwick Davis returning to the Ewok role of Wicket and the chance to bring his aspiring actor son Harrison in to play his Ewok kin. Like the legacy circles earlier, to hear and see Warwick’s journey and sage maturity being celebrated is delightful. This caps a truly fantastic disc of special features.

LOGO DESIGNED BY MEENTS ILLUSTRATED (#867)

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