#something went wrong

[hanmadegiggles]

I was literally made for hours of tickle torture… not this whole job and bills situation.

[budgieflitter]

i drew this green guy from deltarune for my bestie @olegianote!!!! i've never played deltarune

[onionowt]

I love you yellow pokemon adventures

[lilianmorganart]

[whentherewasatime-if]

TW: disturbing content below cut

[devoting-waters]

My persona, I guess

[bulografik]

[purple-ant]

Hey hey hey! What have you got on clearance?

the padawan distribution system works in a mysterious way

There was only one extra seat in the cockpit, but Sifo-Dyas didn't reach it, collapsing against the wall in a heap of scorched robes.

"Don't you dare die now," Dooku said, jumping up from his seat. Of course, Sifo-Dyas couldn't just go; he had to wrap a simple murder in a mystical riddle and then leave Dooku to puzzle over it.

But no, the unexpected Padawan wasn't dying, the Count realized after examining him. It had simply been a fainting spell from Force exhaustion and a couple of shots too close, scorching the fabric and skin beneath, but nothing serious.

His gaze fell on the Padawan's braid. Dooku had been there when it was cut off; he'd lost his own that same day. Sifo-Dyas's braid had been much longer than this one back then, hanging from his Master's hand, weighed down by nearly a decade of training. And each year of this training could be read like rings on a tree, if you knew how.

Dooku reached out, taking the somewhat frayed braid—his Master would have to reweave it every other day at best—and glanced at the weightless "bells" scattered across it, each marking a past mission. Not many, given the frequency of Master Lene's missions. The multicolored beads marking the courses completed and exams passed were meaningless after so many years; he no longer remembered their order, only the knowledge gained from them, the vague impressions of the classes. But the rings... neat circles scattered along the entire length of the braid, each denoting a vision.

One at the base—for the ones received on Ilum, a reminder that even if a Jedi didn't receive them later in life, he was still infinitely connected to the Cosmic Force, having once spoken its language. And the two rings below, the source of which Dooku had never asked, outraged that his friend hadn't put them on right away, and deep down hurt that Sifo-Dyas hadn't told him. Now he understood that his friend had understood the need for secrets before him. And the fourth ring, through which the previous two had finally been revealed, through which Sifo-Dyas's gift and curse had finally been revealed to Dooku. And to the Jedi Council. Protobranch.

There were no more rings.

Dooku glanced again at the sixteen-year-old Padawan. Was this some kind of trick? Master Lene had dedicated her long life to studying the many sects of the Force, their secrets, their artifacts, and rituals. Of course she would know something Dooku couldn't. Of course she would share it with her Padawan.