This blog is predominantly a 18+ NSFW space, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT please. I want this to be a comfortable space for bad smut, bad art, and the occasional movie review so be respectful.
If you have any questions about what I do, talk to me. I'm here to have fun so I hope you are to.
You can find me on Ao3 and BlueSky
Classes are done for the semester, I am currently fixating on Star Wars The Clone Wars. My deepest apologies to everyone who wants other things, they will come but slowly. So very slowly.
Masterlist
Deltarune
Cinnamon Butterscotch with Extra Whip-Cream
Is it Petty?
Lean on Me Series: We all have Sorrow, We all need Somebody to
Hazbin Hotel
Boiled Frog
One Piece
Being Human
Outlast
Your Princess is in Another Castle
Star Wars: The Clone Wars
You're Attached Series: Wait, Who's First?
Transformers
Shoot Your Shot(BlitzPrime): 1, 2, 3
Never Listen to Rattrap on Affairs of the Spark(Or Ever)
This is a little head-cannon I have of how Maul sleeps. I haven’t seen Shadow Lord so if we see him sleep in that know I am clueless.
This is SFW but still my blog is 18+ so MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
When Maul sleeps, or more like if Maul sleeps it is not a peaceful experience. He does not sleep around others, not willingly that is. The closest he got was with his brother, Savage, and that was more so an extremely deep meditation.
He does not dream, his mind unable to settle and reach that far. Maul is wired to move at the slightest shift in the air, the quietest sound waking him. Those burning yellow eyes snapping to attention, hearts pumping and ready to defend himself at a moments notice. Maul’s body is taught, resting on his side with his arm acting as a pillow. His legs curled tightly to his chest to protect his underbelly and with his back pressed into a wall so as limit potential of an attack from behind. Maul does not sleep with blankets, only uses the clothes on his back to keep himself warm. The extra weight of a blanket has a possibility of causing a slower reaction time along with the notion that his limbs could become tangled and he could trip, possibly leading him to death. If there is a mattress it is a thin one, better a stiff surface that he can leap off of than one that squishes and sinks and would potentially cause his balance to be off.
Maul’s life has been one of pain and suffering, a constant deluge of misery and his sleeping habits, or lack thereof, reflect that. He will never be granted a moment’s peace not until his final confrontation with Obi-Wan. The epitome of “I shall sleep when I’m dead.”
Summary: In the wake of your Master’s death at the hands of General Grievous you have been placed under the tuliege of Master Obi Wan Kenobi for the remainder of your training. No one is particularly happy with this decision and now you must see where you fit amongst the 212th.
Content Warnings: None
A/n: This is a prequel to a Rex x Jedi Padawan story I have in the works. It was also supposed to be Rex x Oc and it sort of is? Ish? My brain wouldn’t slow down long enough to figure out any OC stuff. Also I am not sure how OOC Cody is, I haven’t written for his character before so don’t kill me. Please.
THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
“Welcome aboard The Negotiator Commander.” You bow in thanks as the 212th salutes you. A feeling of disquiet settles heavily over the star cruiser as the troopers disperse, leaving you to navigate your own way about the ship. It’s not difficult, all the Republic cruisers have the same layout but you find yourself lost anyways. The month you had spent planet side on Coruscant healing and mourning has left you unbalanced. This decision, this order, to be foisted upon Master Kenobi as his padawan so soon after the passing of your own Master has been unpleasant for both of you to put it simply. You had questioned the Council’s choice, inquiring that while it would be unorthodox given you still had two years left of training why you could not just take the test of Knighthood now instead of all this. That idea had been rejected and you wonder if you even bringing it up cemented it not happening. So now your presence, while not entirely unwanted but not exactly wanted, has left your new Master and his men in a state of confusion. The unrest on The Negotiator nearly a living thing in and of itself as you attempt to fit into a dynamic that had existed and maintained itself long before you.
There is a thought of seeking out Master Kenobi, that instinctual padawan need to find one’s Master and confer with them in an attempt to center oneself but it feels wrong. Obi-Wan is a Master but he is not your Master and it feels like a betrayal to go to him. You have spoken with other older Jedi, it wasn’t something that was at all unusual but given the circumstances and the man’s own feeling of unease with you being here you just can’t. There is no trust and it makes you feel all the more bitter for what Grievous took from you.
What a very un-Jedi feeling to possess. ‘I wonder if this is why the Council placed me with Master Kenobi.’ It's not the first time you had this thought, what happened to Master Qui-Gon and what Master Kenobi did is so well known that it has followed the latter ever since. You suppose that the Council thought he would be the most understanding and you can see that train of thought but Obi-Wan had actually been able to avenge his Master. He got closure, with his own hands no less, you have not been afforded the same peace. A frown pulled at your mouth and you hunched into your cloak.
‘This might be why the Council rejected my proposition for the Knighthood test.’ A groan rumbled in your chest as you pinched at the bridge of your nose. You are sure this type of self-reflection is something that Master Yoda would greatly encourage but it is not something you really wanted. ‘Not about want it is but about need, yes.’ You can hear Master Yoda in your thoughts and you concede, at least for the moment, you can try for that much. Rolling your shoulders back and straightening your spine you breathe in, holding the cycled air in your lungs for a beat before breathing out slowly through your nose. It’s no mediation but the action does at least ground you enough that you should be able to gather your bearings and find your room again. Rounding a corner you side step in time before you ram your nose into cold plastoid armor. Commander Cody and you stare at each other, that discontentment that has been swirling around is dragged front and center.
“Commander.” He speaks first.
“Commander.” You speak slightly slower.
You know deep down that Commander Cody does not hate you, he might not like you but you know that he does not hate you, he’s just concerned about your sudden appearance and what it is doing to the chain of command. Your rank is equal, technically. Within the larger group the obvious deferment of authority goes to Master Kenobi but without him who do the troops look to first if only Cody and you are present? The answer is unclear, something else you should discuss with your new Master.
“First Commander, Second Commander." Snapping to attention, you both turn to the trooper that just walked past.
“Wait.” Two voices say in unison, “Who’s the First Commander?” Your voices harmonize perfectly and the trooper stalls. His helmet obscures his expression but his body language screams uncertainty.
“Uh,” He looks between Cody and you, your gazes equally expectant, “Who do you think it is?”
“Well obviously,” You start, “It’s clearly,” Cody begins, “Me.” You look at Cody, Cody looks at you, the trooper slinks away as you raise an eyebrow and the Commander squares his shoulders.
“Why do you think it’s you?” You venture to ask.
“Well why do you think it’s you?” You get the feeling he is staring down his nose at you.
You hold your head up a bit higher, “I’m a Jedi.”
“Padawan. Jedi padawan. Sir.” Cody corrects and you feel your teeth grit.
“Padawan or not I am still a Jedi, Commander. Now tell me what makes you think you are First Commander.”
“With all due respect Sir, I have been the first and only Commander until your arrival, it’s reasonable to assume that I would retain said position.” He’s right, you know he’s right but something about his rightful assumptions sting. Maybe it’s the reminder that you don’t fit, an unnecessary piece to a puzzle. The 212th are not your troop, they are not your men and you do not belong here. The right thing to do would be to back down, concede on this matter and accept with grace that you are in fact second but you really don’t want to. Any self-reflection is thrown out the airlock and you do what you really shouldn’t do, double down.
“And with all due respect to you Commander, I am here now and given the nature of things it’s reasonable of me to assume that I would in fact take the rank of First Commander.” A chord of anger has been plucked, you can feel it ripple through the force and you are certain that Obi Wan has already felt it. A tingling of concern radiates out, cloying its way towards the Clone Commander.
“Master Kenobi is looking for you.” You grumble at the same time Cody’s comm lights up. Quickly you make your escape, Kenobi’s even smooth tone chasing you away. Realistically, or more so logically you understand that running away as you are is not ideal. Everything about what had transpired was very far from ideal but it feels as if you had been struck, a stray blaster bolt running its way through your chest and burning into your heart and bruised ego.
Hiding away in your hab you settle on the floor, lightsaber resting in front of you as you sit cross-legged. Closing your eyes you gradually unclench your fists, letting your upturned palms rest almost lazily on your knees. Breathing in, you let your mind wander outward, wrapping yourself in the force. You want to appear as centered and unbothered as possible when Master Kenobi inevitably comes to confront you about what had happened in the hallway.
Which doesn’t take as long as you would have liked. You can feel him making his way towards you. His force signature is languid, almost soothing but there is something hiding underneath. Annoyance maybe? Keeping your eyes closed and posture loose you pull yourself back into yourself as the door to your hab slides open with a hiss.
“Care to explain what is going on between you and my Commander, young one?” He doesn’t say it pointedly, doesn’t even put emphasis on the my but you can feel the protectiveness nonetheless.
“I don’t know what you mean Master.” You peek an eye open, Kenobi has not fully entered the room, he lingers in the doorway. The light from the hallway backlighting him and increasing the feeling of judgement that roils beneath the surface of his calm facade.
“Lying is not becoming of a Jedi.” He states, one arm crossed over his chest as the other cradles his temple. “It is also not becoming of a Commander either but it appears Cody is following your example.”
Well wasn't that interesting. The Commander had not informed his general of what had happened. The question was why though. At least to you it would be obvious who would be reprimanded but maybe it wasn’t. Maybe the dear Commander was just as unsure where he stood with you around as you were. And why does that make you feel guilty?
“I expect whatever you two are hiding will be handled before the next mission. Yes?” Master Kenobi is looking at you expectantly and you pointedly turn your head away, that feeling of guilt being pushed down in the wake of something more easy to stomach. Your own annoyance.
“If there is something that is being kept from you, I assure you that it will be handled. Not that there is but if there was, it will be.” Your lips purse at his furrowed eyebrows, he doesn’t believe you. Which part you aren’t sure, not that it matters because for all intents and purposes everything you said was a lie. Sort of. The situation would be handled, just not before the next mission probably.
Kenobi’s exasperation is palpable, you wouldn’t even need the force to sense that. “Well see to it then.” He turns as if to leave before pausing, “Will you be joining us, me, in the mess hall?”
“Oh, uh,” You falter, posture slumping, “No, I don’t believe I will be.”
His expression doesn’t change but you can see the tension in his jaw, you’re sure it mirrors your own. “I see, have a good rest of your evening then.” You mumbled out a “You as well Master.” and then he’s gone and you are alone once more. Pushing yourself up, you discard your cloak and the heavier outer robes before grabbing your lightsaber. You were going to the training room, you speculated that movement and practicing forms would help clear your mind better than attempting meditation at this moment.
The training room is blissfully empty, the troopers more intelligent than you and actually eating and taking time to recoup before the inevitable call into action. Starting with the basics you adjust your stance and drop into Form 1. Letting your eyes slip closed you imagine opponents closing in, their forms nebulas but many. The hum of an ignited lightsaber brings you comfort in a way that you cannot fully explain, the sounds it makes as it cuts through the air lulling. You let your body move on instinct, controlling the space without really thinking about the how. When you were planet bound, stuck within the temple while your injuries healed you had felt as if you were going to go insane. An itch had worked its way beneath your skin that had only just begun to ease, though you suppose you had traded one itch for another. But at least you could scratch it the same. So good for you. Spinning on your heel you bring your leg up, lightsaber disengaging at the same time you paused. Eyes open almost languidly, your heel held in position right on the cusp of nailing Commander Cody in the temple.
“Commander.” You don’t sneer it but you know that it wasn’t said very kindly.
“Commander.” He matches your energy, his gaze cutting to your foot, “Intending to stomp the competition there?” You don’t mean it but you let out an angry hiss, leg rearing back and dropping to the ground. Your stance was still low, weight shifting to your front.
“Maybe but that would assume there is any.” You watch the crease between his brows deepen. His own body shifting, shoulders rolling forward in a stance that looked ready to charge.
“You’re right,” Well that throws you, “I only see one person in this room that actually has what it takes to lead and stand beside the General. Sir.” That smacks you so hard that you can’t actually breath for a moment, lungs sputtering as you suck in air uselessly. Unhelpfully and entirely against your will you can feel your cheeks becoming warm, eyes misting as tears sting along your waterline. Furiously you turn away, rubbing at your face which only blurs your vision more. You feel a hand touch your shoulder and you jump, batting it away. Words start to spill from your throat unbidden and it’s like a dam has broken, flooding the training room with every unsaid thought.
“You’re right! I don’t have what it takes!” You can feel Cody listening, “It’s so painfully obvious. You see it, the Council saw it!” Slumping against a wall, slowly falling in on yourself, you scrap your fingers along your scalp. “I saw it too, I saw it the moment my Master died.” You don’t want to be saying this, you don’t even know why you are saying this, let alone saying it to the Commander who is for some reason settling down next to you. His back straight and gaze forward, as if you spilling your proverbial guts was another battle he had to endure.
“I don’t even want to be First Commander you know,” It comes out whispered, “and you were right earlier as well. You were here, you have the experience, and you have the right to continue on as you have.” You head thunks against the cool metal behind you, “I’m sorry I’m here. I didn’t want to be anymore than you or Master Kenobi wanted me to be.” You curl your knees up to your chest. “Despite me not having what it takes I tried… I tried to convince the Council that I could take the Knighthood test..” A lump is formed in your throat making the next words come out choked. “I wanted to keep us all together so I tried.”
“Keep who all together?” His tone sounded even, you envied him for that.
“My men,” You pressed your palms into your eyes, “After what happened with Grievous, after I lost my Master and even more of my men I didn’t want to lose the rest.” A shuddery breath rattles in your chest, “But I don’t have what it takes and we’ve been scattered. I couldn’t keep us together.”
“Oh.” You hum wetly at his quiet expletive. The training room fell silent, the only sound was the hissing of the air filtration system and the low buzz of the ship as a whole.
Cody clears his throat, his fingers interlocking together rigidly within his lap. Glancing up at the Commander you note that he’s frowning. It’s different than earlier, softer in a way you don’t feel you deserve. “I’m sorry.”
You wave a hand, “Don’t be, you were just giving back what I was putting out. I deserved it.”
“Oh I’m not sorry about that.” Cody huffs a laugh and you place a hand on your chest in mock offense, “As you said you deserved it,” You rolled your eyes, “I’m sorry about what happened with your troop.” His posture loosened and he tentatively placed a hand on your shoulder, you don’t bat it away this time. “I understand your loss, I understand the feeling of failing and watching everything fall apart around you.” Reaching up you are less skittish when you place your hand over his.
“How did you deal with it?” You ask and Cody sighs.
“Time I suppose,” You snort and he grips your shoulder a bit tighter, “And knowing that I have other brothers, ones that are still living, still fighting that need me.” You want to snap that you in fact don’t have that but you refrain, accepting this olive branch and staying silent. “For a Jedi you are easy to read.” Okay so maybe you didn’t accept it as silently as you hoped.
“Padawan, Jedi padawan. Remember?” You correct with a huff.
It was Cody’s turn to let out a snort, this one a bit more amused than your own. “I’m trying to be nice.” He states, “I get it though. We aren’t your brothers, at least not yet.” The Commander rises up, his hand turning to grab yours and drag you up with him.
Your head tilts to the side, “Yet?”
“Yes, yet. Gives us time and we’ll give you time. Things will figure themselves out.” He speaks confidently, as if this is not the first time he has needed to do this. It was reassuring.
“Alright,” You pause, other hand going up in a salute, “First Commander.”
Cody’s lip twitches up into a small smile before he mirrors you. “Alright, Second Commander.”
_________
2nd A/n: It'll be shown in the next part but Padawan get's nicknames that they go by. Sec, Min/Mini, as in Second Commander or Mini Commander. There will also be other installments that don't follow Rex and Sec, they need to bond with their new Master eventually. You have been warned.
Warnings: None that I can think of, not proof read, Mauls kind of a jerk lol
Summery: Nyletak is trying to settle into the new environment she's found herself in.
Note: this one is written more so from Nyletaks perspective unlike pt.1
Pt.1
"Clear out the research quarters." Maul commanding tone left no room for arguments, "Secure her materials there. She is to have unrestricted access to the ships historical database." The mando he spoke to hesitated for a fraction, obviously a bit shocked, before looking to his comrade and nodding.
Nyletak looked around the ship with curiosity, taking in every detail, absolutely fascinated with the new environment. She walks around cautiously, trying to familiarize herself with the layout before stumbling into something. The sound of small engines buzzing to life followed by the clearly annoyed rambling of an angry droid. The disc shaped droid flies up to eye level with her and cusses her out, though she can't fully understand what it's saying, something about disturbing his recharge and waking him up.
"Don't bother our guest." A woman in mandolorian armor approaches the two, chastising the bot. Nyletak recognizes her as the leader of the commandos and the one Maul spoke to earlier. She nods her head towards the woman, ignoring the droids upset grumbling, viewing her as someone worthy of respect. "Follow me, your quarters are ready for you." She commands before leading Nyletak to a secluded part of the ship. It's just as cold and detailess as the rest of the ship, which disappoints her slightly. But hey, a place to sleep is a place to sleep. "Lord Maul has allowed you access to our ships historical database for your research." She informs her, her expression unreadable, but Nyletak expresses gratitude nonetheless.
"I thank you for your hospitality and that of your Lord." The mandolorian womans helmet tilts ever so slightly in what seemed to be confusion. Hospitality is not a word ever used to describe anything or anyone on the ship.
"Do not thank me." She replied, her voice flat behind the barrier of her helmet, "I follow orders. And Lord Mauls order is to keep you alive and keep you useful. Don't make him regret it." With a final look at the towering creature she turns and leaves Nyletak to herself in her new room.
She lets out a weary sigh as the the doors to her new chambers close with a quiet hiss. Her faceplates relax and her shoulders slump while she turns to face the far too small and rigid berth, gently resting her staff against the wall with a small clink and placing her travel bag on the floor next to it. She sits down on the berth, taking in her sterile surroundings, such a far cry from the comforting forest she loves and is used to, but at least it's safe. Nyletak closes her many eyes and leans her head on the wall behind her, attempting to calm her mind. But as her mind settles, a heavy, turbulent presence fills the room.
It was Maul. His chamber on the other side of the wall she was currently leaning against, right next to her. Even without a strong connection to the force, she could sense his agony and frustration as it practically radiated through the metal framework between them. Her sensitive ears could hear the faint zaps and hissing of his mechanical legs followed by a pained snarled as he stubbornly attempted, and failed, to fix them himself. Nyletak opened her eyes slowly and turned towards where he sat in the other room, then shook her head before grabbing her tools and standing, deciding it would be for the best if she helped him again. Especially for her own mental peace.
It only takes a few steps for her long legs to reach the door to his quarters, lifting one of her many hands to knock on the door. The sharp clinking of shell-like knuckles against metal snaps Maul out of his concentration, his eyes narrowing. The door slides open to reveal the tall woman holding a small pouch. "May I enter?" She asks him, her glowing orange eyes fixated on him. "You're legs require more maintenance otherwise they will need to be replaced."
Maul doesn't respond, his jaw clenched and his brow furrowed. She takes his silence as a yes and cautiously enters, stopping in front of him and crouching down to examine his legs. He watches her as she takes out tools from her pouch, the hands holding the instruments pausing just above the damage area. "Am allowed?" She asks, her voice gentle and her eyes carefully studying his features. Maul hesitates before begrudgingly giving a nod of approval, signaling for her to begin her work.
Two of her hands hold his leg still while the other two skillfully mend the severed wires, her movements trained and precise. And Maul begins to wonder, where is this strange woman from? Why does she seem to be so knowledgeable on so many things? She's already proved herself quite useful, but that doesn't make him any less suspicious of her. His thoughts are interrupted by a sharp pain followed by a quiet apology. Maul snarls at her to which she only responds to by quietly clicking her tongue in annoyance, seemingly more upset at her mishap than his anger. Mauls molten yellow eyes widened at the sound, fury bubbling in his chest. No one, not his commandos, not his syndicates, not even his enemies have ever dared to dismiss him so casually and so carelessly. He gripped the metal of his seat tighter, the groaning of his gloves give away his thoughts, half tempted to throw her into the wall with the Force.
Yet, as he watches her four hands move delicately, he remained still, the agonizing, searing pain beginning to fade as she tends the him. She was actually fixing him.
"You have a habit of forcing your body beyond limits, I assume?" Nyletaks soft voice breaks the silence of his cabin. She does not spare him as glance as her face plates scrunch together and her movements become more precise. "An injured warrior is a dead warrior."
"I am no mere warrior." Maul hisses out, his voice dropping dangerously low. "And I do not require a lecture from a cave dwelling scavenger digging in the dirt."
Nyletak pauses, and it's almost imperceptible, before her top three eyes lock with his. Her gaze is steady amd calm, showing no signs of anger, only patience. "A cave dwelling scavenger that is currently ensuring you do not collapse durning your next battle." She states as she tucks the last wire back and seals her works away, her hands pull back and she nods. "There. It should be stabilized. Try it."
Maul stands, shifting his weight as he tests the new repairs. The violent sparks and burning pain had subsidied, his legs movements even smoother than they were before the mission. She really did fix it. Nyletak was still crouched, cleaning her tools. Maul was the one towering over her now, but instead of even a fraction of the fear he feels he deserves from her, she remains as calm as ever. She stands, effortlessly passing him in height and nods, turning away to walk out. But before she can reach the door, Maul stops her.
"Where did you learn cybernetic engineering, Nyletak?" He demands, stepping closer to her, his movements swift and calculated. He had used her name for the first time, the word heavy and commanding in his mouth. "You speak the ancient tongue of the Outer Rim, you read the glyphs forgotten by both the Jedi and Sith, and you mend military grade prosthetics with the skill of a master mechanic. You are no simple scavenger. What are you."
Nyletak hesitated for a second before slowly turning to face him. Her expression placid, devoid of anything that could indicate the truth of her life. She adjusted the strap of her tool pouch then finally spoke. "This galaxy is vast, Lord Maul. One collects various skills when traveling it as I have." She then bows and turns away again, stepping out of this chambers, "Rest. Your injuries still need time to heal." And with that, Nyletak disappears, leaving Maul standing in the center of his quarters, contemplating her cryptic words.
She's hiding something, that much is certain.
Authors note: thank you to the like two people reading this! This was fun to write lol
I’m not usually on Anakin’s side but oh my god Obi-Wan you cannot just take a weird unstudied mind control worm parasite! Yes Anakin stomp it with your boot! Absolutely kill it!
Warnings: Poorly written lol, most likely OOC, Maul is pathetic and in pain, injury, dehumanization? Kinda? My OC is referred to as a creature most of the time so yeah, not proof read
Summery: Maul got severely injured during a mission and finds himself nearly dying in a cave when a strange alien stumbles upon him
This is my first time writing a fic....
It was just supposed to be a quick mission to gather intel, it wasn't supposed to end him Maul being injured so badly and separated from his mandolorians. He keeps a hand pressed firmly into his side to slow the bleeding as he limps along a cavern wall, his mechanical legs sparking aggressively and threatening to give out, trying to find a secluded place to rest and tend to his wounds. Maul falls upon a small pokect in the cave, just enough space for him to rest comfortably for a bit, hissing at the pain searing his entirebody. As he settles in the strange runes in the wall cath his attention, they seem to shift slightly in his blurred vision. He blinked his eyes harshly, attempting to get them to focus, knowing that they absolutely have something to do with his current mission. But even when he began to see them clearly, the runes still made no sense to him. Maul curses at the cryptic glyphs, at his sparking legs, and at his blood soaked hand, at the entire situation. His patience has worn completely thin and his pain only fuels his frustration. Then a disturbance, faint but close, forces him back onto the groaning metal of his feet, his free hand instinctively reaching to his side.
The quiet thump of foot steps and soft click of unknown objects fill the tunnel before a looming shadow engulfs what little light there is. Three claws scrape against the rune covered wall and Mauls grip on his saber tightens, prepared to attack. The towering figure pauses, four, no five glowing eyes bore into him, the feeling of being watched makes his skin crawl. It stays there, watching him intently and he can feel his body already threatening to give out from exhaustion, but he cannot let it see his weakness. "If you wish to live, I suggest leaving." He hisses at the strange creature, it's feature nearly impossible to make out minus the glowing orange eyes still silently observing him.
"You are injured." It finally speaks up, "I will not leave." It's voice was surprisingly soft, but that only put Maul more on edge. He readies a strike but before he can swing his body finally fails him. 'Pathetic.' He thinks to himself as his face makes contact with the cold ground. 'After everything... only to be slain by a scavenger beast in a cave.' And his vision goes black.
Maul jolts awake with a scream, eyes darting frantically in every direction and reaching for his light saber. But instead of the sickening pain or the binding chains he expected, his consciousness is greeted by...comfort? His light saber isn't even hiden from him, being perfectly in reach. He spots the creature sitting in front of a cluster of glyphs, concentrated on a datapad, a small lantern and a steaming pot at their side. Their head turns to him slowly and for the first time he's able to take in their features. A set of five wide eye analyze him carefully, soft hair rustles and two long braids shift as their head tilts curiously. The face seems to be built of various exoskeleton like plates which move as their expression changes slightly. "You are awake." They state, their voice so gentle it's almost a whisper. He tenses when it reaches for a small bowl and spoons out a serving of stew from the pot. "You need to eat." They offer him the bowl, which is met with a snarl from him. Shrugging they decide to leave the bowl in front of him, letting him choose when he finally eats. Maul eyes the bowl suspiciously, looking between it and the creature, but the gnawing hunger twisting in his stomach tests his resolve.
It takes long while, but he caves to his mortal body's needs, scooping up the bowl and scarfing down its contents. The warmth of the stew spreads through his body and soothes the tension in his abdomen a fraction. When he finishes and looks back at them he's unsettled to see them already watching him, their many eyes blinking slowly before turning back to their datapad. The datapad catches Mauls attention, images of the cave runes along with various others dance across the the screen, the creatures talons tapping a tracing each subtle difference. "You know how to read the glyphs." His words are not a question, but an observation. Their eyes meet his again before giving a curt nod.
"I do." Their soft voice still makes him feel uncomfortable and he doesn't know why. Regardless, this ability could prove invaluable to his mission. He need them.
"What is your name." Their face shifts into an almost amused looking expression as they ajust their body to face him fully, giving him their undivided attention.
"I'm surprised you only now thought to ask me that." Now that he is able to see them even clearer he can take in their full appearance. They have a large, towering frame, he estimates around 7 feet in height, though he can't be sure since they're crouched. He is also able to now tell that they are most likely a female, of what species he is unsure, but it's not one he recognizes. "My name is Nyletak." She says after a pause. "And yours?" Her owlish eyes peer at him.
He tests his newly repaired legs, twisting them before rising up. "I am Maul." His voice smooth, dangerous, "I believe your abilities will prove most useful to my endeavors. Come with me." Nyletaks eyes scrunch slightly in confusion before nodding in agreement and packing up her things. Maul is rather surprised by her immediate willingness, his suspicion towards her growing, but he needs her knowledge regardless. His legs are still not at full capacity, making it difficult to traverse the tunnel without limping. The rhythmic tapping of a metal walking staff behind him puts Maul on edge, fully aware how easily it could be turned against him as a weapon, but the strange woamn shows no signs of hostility. He can sense the force within her, though faint, and it makes him paranoid. A force user is almost always a Sith or a Jedi, but he saw no light saber on her, the only possible weapon being that staff. Every second of their exit journey only feeds into Mauls nerves, his mind racing even as fresh air begins to reach them.
The whirring of a spaceship engine accompanied by the sound of Lady Kast barking out orders to her commandos can be heard in the distance, searching for Maul. They'd spent the majority of the day tracking him, frustrated and panicked that their leader went missing. He reaches the clearing where they are, their tracking only leading them so close to the cave. "My Lord!" Kast calls out upon seeing Maul and visible relief washes over the mandolorians, only for them to tense up again and take aim at the looming presence behind him. "Lord Maul, step away from that creature!" Rook shouts as her finger begins to tighten on her blasters trigger.
"Lower your weapons," Mauls voice cuts through the commotion, "If any of you fire a single shot, it will be your last." Lady Kast and the other hesitantly lower their weapons, fearing the wrath of their leader. Maul walks towards the ship with Nyletak close behind, only stopping briefly to speak with Rook. "She is the key to completing our mission. What we do with her after will be decided later. But for now, she is under my protection."
Lady Kast eyes Nyletak suspiciously before nodding. "Of course, my Lord."
I wasn't sure how to end it so uh yeah. There will be more parts soon!
Never Listen to Rattrap on Affairs of the Sparks(Or Ever)
Summary: Cheetor just needs to prove himself that he is the better option.
Content Warning: Very minor violence against Waspinator, extremely bad advice
THIS BLOG IS 18+, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT
The perimeter guns were primed and ready, charge building and just waiting to be released upon the insect that had made the poor decision to infiltrate Maximal territory. And yet the wasp was not in fact shot, Optimus was hesitating given the nature of this impromptu visit.
“I think we should shoot ‘em.” Rattrap supplied as he wriggled his way under Rhinox’s arm to get a better look at the pinging sensors.
“Hm, I agree with the vermin. We need to send a message that this will not be tolerated.” Dinobot rumbled.
“Yeah! We need to nip this in the skid plate before it becomes a common occurrence!” Cheetor nodded eagerly, bouncing in place as he stared between the blinking Predacon signal and the hallway that led to the habsuits.
Optimus pinched at his olfactory ridge, a deep sigh rattling his chest armor. “Rhinox?” The leader prodded softly, curious what his engineer had to say on this interesting development. The rhino hummed, his brow ridge crinkling in thought as he drummed his digits against the console.
“Well I think we should first inform the on–””NO!” Cheetor interrupted Rhinox, his voice shrill.
“No?” Several optics turned to look at the cheetah, some curious, some knowing. Cheetor felt his face plate flush with energon, turning it a deep shade of blue. His optics flare in embarrassment as he resists the urge to shrink in on himself.
“Y-YEah,” He squeaks out, “They shouldn’t be bothered about this! It’s weird! I wouldn’t want to know about some dumb Pred lurking outside asking about me!”
“What’s asking about me?” Cheetor jumped, plating puffing out as he whirls around. His spark spins rapidly in his chest, it makes the energon in his lines pump faster as he looks at the latest edition to the Maximals. You blink in confusion as five sets of optics stare at you, the command going uncomfortably quiet. Cheetor looks at you, mouth agape and engine stalling as he tries to think of any reason for you to not be here right now.
“Flesssh-bot!” Helms snap awkwardly towards the console, the sound of Waspinator not breaking the tension but deepening it.
“Huh?” Your brows furrow.
“It’s nothing!” Cheetor declares, pushing on Rattrap’s face before the smaller Maximal could say something that would have you believing this was in fact something.
“I would not say this is nothing.” Dinobot grumbles, his optics turning to slits. “It appears the enemy desires to speak with you.”
“I would say he wants to do more than speak with da fleshy!” Rattrap says through the sevro pushing into his intake. A red hue creeps up your neck and Cheetor would think it would be very pretty if the reason was literally anything but Rattrap making ill concealed innuendos.
“Flesssh-bot!” Waspinator calls out again, his scratchy voice a pitiful plea for attention that Cheetor hopes you will ignore but to his horror you approach the console with a tentative look towards Boss-bot.
“It’s your choice.” Optimus is giving you permission and this is terrible because you are actually answering him. Cheetor watches in slow motion as you flick the switch, the sound system coming to life as you speak gently to the wailing Pred outside.
“Hello Waspinator, is everything alright? Why are you here?” You ask, sounding concerned.
“Evvverything isss alright now! Wasssspinator isss here for you!” The Pred swooned.
“For me?” Was that a look of endearment Cheetor was seeing? Was it?!
“Yesss, Wassspinator comess bearing a gift for Flesssh-bot.” Oh dear Primus, a gift? He comes bearing a gift? Why?!
“Oh?” You glance around command, that blush deepens and Cheetor is scratching at the proverbial walls.
“Hmh, could you come out? Wassspinator wanted to sssee Flesssh-bot when Flesss-bot is given gift.” Waspinator pauses, “Pleassse?” That was a low blow, the insect was clearly taking advantage of your kinder nature!
You look to Optimus, shifting almost bashfully. Were you considering this? “He said please.” You were!
“Oh sure, hear dat Boss Monkey. He said please, might as well invite him in for hot energon and oil cakes while we’re at it.” Rattrap snips and it makes you shrink and Optimus casts a scathing look towards the rat before turning back to you.
“Despite the way he said it, I am inclined to agree with Rattrap. I fear you going out there might be unwise.” You give a mumbled agreement and Cheetor feels his spark lightening until Rhinox steps forward.
“I could go with them.” Rhinox speaks up, placing a servo on your shoulder. Cheetor splutters and makes vague gestures of disagreement.
“This could be a trap.” Dinobot supplies, eyeing you with a hard stare of disapproval.
“And if it is, I will be there with them. But if it isn’t we might be able to get something out of Waspinator.” Rhinox rolled his optics down towards you, “And well he did say please.”
The whimper that passed Cheetor’s lip plates was small and utterly depressing in nature. Slumping into a chair he rested his chin heavily against the cool metal, his optics watching your back in forlorn silence as you went to meet the stinkin Pred with that still pretty red hue dusting your cheeks. A part of him, a part he didn’t really like that much, hoped just the smallest bit that this was some dumb trick. He really didn’t want it to be a trap but if it was, well then that would be… not good but he could help you through it!
“Oh lighten up pussycat. It ain’t the end of the world. It’s probably just some dumb plan ol’ lizard brain hatched up. Nothin’ ta worry ‘bout.” Rattrap was hardly what Cheetor would call reassuring but it was nice to have his fears dissuaded by someone other than himself.
The lift creaked and it made Cheetor perk up. “You will need to let me run a full diagnostics on them.” The sound of Rhinox made him immediately perk down, that didn’t sound like someone who just dealt with an ill-conceived attempt at an attack. As you came into view, a bundle of colorful organic material clutched in your hands Cheetor felt like disappearing into the floor.
“Oh.” Rattrap whistled, “Oh maybe ya do have something to worry about.”
Cheetor didn’t believe Rattrap at first, brushing it off that this was a one time thing. Waspinator wouldn’t come back, Optimus wouldn’t allow it, and you most certainly wouldn’t be swayed by a half-afted attempt at some ploy of the preds to win the beast wars. And yet, for reasons that were beyond his comprehension, he feels even Primus wouldn’t understand, Waspinator did come back. Optimus did allow it and you were being swayed by this weird display of what Cheetor was still convinced was false affections.
“This has to be a trick, really it has to be. There is no way that this could be literally anything else.” Cheetor trailed after you as you added yet another bundle of flowers to your ever growing collection. The room you shared with Optimus started to look more like a garden than a room, the fragrance of the flowers clung heavily to you and it was actually really nice but it was tainted by who kept giving them to you.
“Is it really that unbelievable that Waspinator just wants to give me flowers?” You asked, shoulders hunching up in defense.
“I mean yeah? He’s a Pred! What reason does he have to be giving you flowers if not to try and trick you?” A frown pulled at your lips, your back to Cheetor as you arranged and rearranged all of your “gifts.”
“I see.” That frown turned not upside down but into a purse and now Cheetor was confused.
“What?” He asked, not understanding the sudden mood shift or why you weren’t looking at him.
You sighed, turning on him with a hand on your hip and rubbing at your temple, “Cheetor I think you should go.” He spluttered, derma flapping like that fish he saw out of the water.
“Wait, hold on!” He pleaded, “What did I say?” You shook your head as you ushered him out. “No, please come on. What did I say?” It came out whiny, his optics wide and pleading as you shut the door on him.
“But what did I say?” He whispered, utterly dejected.
Dragging his pedes across the floor he didn’t take much care in not running into everything and anything. Maybe if he bumped into another wall it would bring him clarity for whatever just happened?
“Hey watch where ya goin blondie!” Rattrap squeaked as Cheetor almost bowled him over. Cheetor let out a mumbled apology, shoulders slumping further and helm practically touching the floor. “Oh boy, what is this?” the rat gestured at him.
“It’s nothing.”
“I would not call this nothin’. What’s eatin’ at your wires, huh?”
“Nothingggg.”
“Really? Nothin’? Cause it looks to me,” Rattrap picked something off of Cheetor’s arm and flicked it to the ground. It was a flower petal, soft and pink, just like your face when you received them this morning, “like you are lettin’ some stickin’ Pred move in on your dame.”
Cheetor’s plating puffed up as he straightened, “I’m not letting–” He stopped immediately, shrinking. “You’re right…”
“I know.” It was said extremely smugly but Cheetor wasn’t paying attention, now suddenly feeling the need to pace.
“But what am I supposed to do!” He grabbed at the faux auditor receptors on his helm, “They’re so… so.. smitten with Waspinator and his flowers and his flessssh-bot.” He dragged out the s, mocking the bug’s speech. “And I can’t understand why? It’s Waspinator! No one likes him!”
“Alright, alright enough of that.” A servo was snagging his elbow and his faceplate was dragged down to Rattrap’s level. “Listen here Whiskers, ya listening? I’m going to share some very important advice with ya.” Cheetor’s optics shuttered, helm tilting to the side as he was in fact listening, maybe a bit too intently. “Okay good, now I've been aroun’ the block, seen plenty of mechs and femmes just like yours.” He hushed Cheetor with a digit to his derma, “I know, I know they’re unique and special, blah blah blah, I get it but what I mean is they’re the romantic type. They want to be wooed and currently the one doin’ the wooing ain’t you.”
“Are you trying to help me or making me feel worse?”
“Hush, I’m gettin’ there.” Rattrap snapped, “Now you can’t do the flowers, you’ll just look like a copycat so you need to do somethin’ else. Somethin’ like showin’ your dame how tough yous are.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Rattrap sighed and thunked his servos against the top Cheetor’s helm, “You’re impossible kid, but what I am tryin’ to say is beat up the Wasp.”
“What? But.. but wouldn’t that make them not happy with me?”
The other maximal waved his servo around like what Cheetor just said was absolutely ridiculous. “What? No, course not. It’s the law of the wild, show them you’re the superior mate and all that.”
“I don’t know about this…”
“Oh come on pussycat, I thought you wanted to win the… the.. What’s that thing the human has?” Rattrap snapped his digits together.
“Their heart?”
“Yeah that, I thought you wanted to win your fleshy’s heart. Cause you ain’t gonna do that pussy footin’ around.” Cheetor huffed, feeling himself starting to pout but Rattrap had a point.
“Okay.” He nodded, “Okay, yeah, yeah! I’ll show them that I’m way better than that pred!” Bouncing in place he felt electricity flaring to life and running through his lines, it heated his energon and he grinned down at his friend, “Thanks Rattrap!” bounding away Cheetor felt the need to go on a run, his processor racing with ideas on how he would initiate and beat Waspinator. He pictured how you would swoon over his battle prowess and how you would toss out all those flowers. Would you blush all sweet and pretty like you do with Waspinator? He thinks it would be even prettier and sweeter because he was the one that caused it.
Cheetor wonders how long he will have to wait to prove himself. It wouldn’t matter if it was on the battlefield, you didn’t leave base much so you wouldn’t get to see him in action. Racing through the jungle he decided that he would have to act when Waspinator inevitably showed up again. Whenever that would be.
Tomorrow, it would be tomorrow.
“Flesssh-bot, your Wassspinator hasss arrived!”
Perfect! Cheetor was even on monitor duty! Zipping to the lift, he poked his head into the hallway; spotting Dinobot he waved his servo and the raptor. “Dinobot! Dinobot! Could you go get–””I am already going to collect the human to deal with this pest.” Dinobot snarled.
Perfect!
Barling down the lift Cheetor didn’t wait for it to touchdown before jumping off, transforming, and then running full tilt at the predacon.
“Oh? Cat-bot? Where isss Fless–” Cheetor cut Waspintor off as he rammed into the insect. The pred screeched, an explosion of petals and stems raining down upon them as the flowers he had been holding were obliterated by the impact. Sinking his teeth into the metal of Waspinator’s shoulder armor he shook his jaw about, not fully tearing but enough to loosen the armor and make the bug feel it.
Was it a bit vindictive? Probably. But if he was going to show that he was the better option he had to take every opportunity.
“Ssstop it! Let go!” Waspinator wriggled and squirmed, servos forming fists before releasing and just pushing at Cheetor. “What did Wassspinator do?! Isss Flesssh-bot angry at Wassspinator?!” The pred’s vocalizer hiccupped and it made Cheetor pause but Rattrap’s advice rang loudly in his processor and he doubled down. Whipping his helm he sent Waspinator skittering along the ground before pouncing again. His landing was graceful if heavy and he could feel the plating on his prey’s chest caving inwards. It was strange that Waspinator wasn’t fighting back, mostly just whining and scrabbling at the earth to get away from him and crying about his ‘Flesssh-bot’ being mad at him.
It was frustrating and Cheetor snarled, gnashing his teeth in Waspinator’s face he grazed the canines across the antenna, threatening to tear.
“Cheetor, what are you doing!” Optimus bellowed behind him, the scruff of his neck was suddenly and aggressively grabbed as he was torn off the predacon. He hissed, wriggling in the gorilla’s hold.
“What were you thinking!?” Optimus got in his face, derma set in a harsh snarl. Cheetor didn’t respond, his glossa twisting into a knot along with his spark as you sprinted past, your face set in a state of panic. He reset his optics, once, twice, three times just to make sure he wasn’t going crazy at the sight of you cooing over Waspinator. Your small, soft organic hands gently brushing over the surface wounds he had inflicted upon Waspinator.
“Optimus,” You speak up, pointedly not looking at Cheetor, “We need to help him.”
Optimus paused in his fuming, optics flaring as he looked between you, Cheetor, and the bug. “I…I don’t–”“Please? He promised not to do anything when he comes here, we can’t just let him fly back to the Darksyde like this.” You're still petting along his plating, his buggy face nuzzling into your touch and Cheetor doesn’t know which feeling is bigger, devastation or fury.
A groan of frustration escaped past the boss-bots clenched denta, “Okay.” He nodded, activating his comm he asked Rhinox to prep the CR Chamber. Cheetor snarled in distaste and was met with a harsh glare from Primal.
Inside the Axalon all optics switched from staring at the human simpering over a pred to Optimus reaming Cheetor out. Not that the cheetah was listening, too focused on you and Waspinator. He made it worse, he made it so much worse.
Got that Amazing Digital Circus(specifically Caine) Brain worms
FYI: None of these Oc's (except Bug and Aclima) exists in the same universe. Things would be different if they did.
*Aclima does not know that Kinger is one of the original creators, she was not "awake" enough to know who Caine had pulled into the circus.
*Aclima's little helper
*Yara can be called on by the residents to help, or more like distract, Caine. She does not enjoy this but cannot help but to attempt to soothe any ruffled feathers.
“Why’d it have to be me!” The girl cried, clawing and writhing against the bonds that held her. No one answered right away. The other four simply stood there watching her struggle, a conversation the girl was not privy to taking place.
“Why!” She screamed again banging her head fruitless against the cold wet ground, clumps of grass and mud sticking to her hair.
“Because it had to be you.” The boy, her brother, approached; speaking softly as he loomed above her.
“But—“ the girl hiccuped, “But why me?”
The boy knelt down, wiping mud from the white mask that adorned the girls face. The single eye that was visible was wide and frantic, pupil blown out and red veins spider webbing out along the scalar.
