sheev-pap-smear

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sw: tcw (s05e01) // sw: rebels (s03e10)

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my roommates any time Cara Did Something 

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pro-tip if u start watching the mandalorian s1e7 the reckoning at 11:27 pm on new year’s eve you’ll hear Cara say “this is bad” at midnight on new year’s day

honestly what a mood

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Ah! Another Space warrior :P 

Reeeeex :D :D :D 

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Rex dressed in plaid shirt and a cowboy hat ?

Okay, THAT WAS A LOT OF FUN TO DRAW!XD Thank you for your request!♥

Here is your handsome captain wearing plaid shirt and a cowboy hat while being absolutely chill and happy…he really needs that in his life…

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Sis ur URL Im shaking

Lol we had SO MUCH FUN with this. I think it was like, sophomore year, finals rolling around, i was getting to the end of tcw for the first time while mod shep had already seen it and was being thoroughly entertained by watching me see it XD long story short palpatine is a grade-A Asshole and if you shorten his name to Paps then the next step isn’t a hard jump to make.

also who the fuck names their kid sheev. who. that is like, the SLEEZIEST name i’ve ever heard, even as far as fake sci-fi galaxy far far away names go, how did NO ONE think ‘someone named sheev? Nothing suspicious here, nope’

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this is the greatest compliment i've ever gotten on this post thank you

The name Rex means “king” so obviously this is where I had to go

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Different world line…

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bye

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Star Wars: Thrawn: Alliances, Timothy Zahn

This is…the most clone thing.

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I remember reading something along the lines of "The Jedi were so selfless they have forgotten how to care" and I just can't remember where? I think Filoni said it once? Do you have any idea where it'd been said?

It was Filoni and the line was:

“I’ve always felt that one of Anakin’s downfalls, like it’s never that Anakin was innately going to be evil, but the people around him, the Jedi, in their lack of compassion, in being so selfless that they almost forgot to care.”

— Dave Filoni [x]

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@jjabrams It feels impossible, but today wrapped photography on Episode IX. There is no adequate way to thank this truly magical crew and cast. I’m forever indebted to you all.

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all of science fiction: human beings will resent A.I and robots and will never trust them

real human beings: I had to apologize to my roomba for stepping on him today I felt so bad he cleaned my whole house and I just stomped on him

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sw gif meme: [9/10] characters

captain rex

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someone getting into an Argument with yoda and calling him a moldy scrotum. in the background somebody chokes on their tea

Alright you guys, stay with me here, I swear it gets more humorous at the end. I had to WORK for this one, anon! (and I’m not 100% sure it works, but this is the best I could do :D

———–

“But sir, we haven’t fully stabilized the atmospheric pressure - “

The droid registered a clamorous metallic sound, followed by an overload of its surface sensors. Its processors worked in overdrive, compiling the trillions of causes and effects in its logic system - ���false”, “if, then”, “true”. Apparently, T-42 had been shoved into a wall with no small degree of force, judging from the its rattled components. T-42’s optical receptors scanned the humanoid face that was a mere rod’s length from its dual input pathways - or in other words, its eyes.

The droid quickly found the correct category for the visual data, uploading the appropriate emotional response protocols in repsonse. 

T-42 registered Yan Dooku’s face as Level 5 angry.

“You will cease this pointless tittering, and you will open the Force-damned door this instant!”

The voice analysis came in at Level 7, which shouldn’t have been possible. An anomaly, its logic systems responded. Obviously, its data banks needed updating. 

The door to the ship immediately flew open, as T-42’s calculations had informed him of the odds of an unpleasant dismemberment if he failed to obey the Jedi’s orders.

They were high. Quite high.

The scan T-42 registered before powering down was the sweeping figure of one Jedi Master, Yan Dooku: age 30, dark brown hair, 1.93 meters height. 

Status: Vital signs elevated; no immediate threat.

In the man’s arms was the unconscious body of one Qui-gon Jinn, Jedi Padawan, age 20, brown hair, 1.93 meters height. 

Status: Vital signs depressed; failure imminent.

——-

Yan Dooku was getting too old for this type of thing. He had rushed into the healer’s ward, Qui-gon’s limp body in his arms. That in itself had been a feat, as the boy’s gangly limbs were everywhere, but somehow the older Jedi Master had been able to deposit his wayward Padawan on a bed before an errant arm took his nose off.

He sat back in his chair and sighed, crossing one leg over the other. Poison, the healers had said. Kytrogorgia, the cerulean slime mold favored by some bounty hunters on the Outer Rim. Dooku rubbed his forehead. Death’s long hand had come far too close - the way Qui-gon’s pulse had become faint, his breaths shallow and irregular, the ghastly pallor that had formed on his aquiline features. 

He’s fine now, the Serenno native reminded himself. He hadn’t been so sure a few days ago. It had taken all his will to suppress the instinct to hold vigil at his student’s bedside all day, to take Qui-gon’s hand in his, to not let go until he was certain his Padawan was alive.

He hadn’t though, and even though Qui-gon had been unconscious at the time, Dooku still couldn’t shake the thought that somewhere under his fevered haze, his Padawan knew that his Master had held back. Dooku had maintained his stoic, distant demeanor, even the older Jedi had thought his own heart would leap from his chest at any moment.

The moment had passed, however, and now Qui-gon was fine, having gone from nearly comatose to…

…something else entirely.

The healers had warned Dooku that the antidote could trigger this reaction in one out of every thousand patients. They had also said that it was highly unlikely that Qui-gon would suffer these side effects, given that he was human, and a Jedi.

But since when had Qui-gon ever been like everyone else?

Across the room, his young charge was sprawled on his bed, his eyes glassy, starting up at some invisible point of interest on the ceiling. Qui-gon’s long fingers twitched, and a smile began to spread over his face. Dooku coughed, steeling himself for what was to come next.

It started with moaning. The first time it happened, Dooku had thought his student to be in pain, but the bizarre, twitching grin on Qui-gon’s face indicated otherwise. Soon after would come the gibberish, true nonsense speak that eventually would form into words, into entire conversations. Sometimes Dooku thought Qui-gon was lucid - he would respond to questions, or at least seem like he was. Other times, the boy would be somewhere else completely, reciting studies on plants or animals. Yesterday, Dooku had learned more about the Freyan creeper moss of Artaax Prime than he had thought possible. 

“The delusions will fade, Master Dooku,” the healer had said. “But for the next few days you will have to anticipate somewhat…erratic behavior. I suggest you don’t be offended by anything he says.”

Qui-gon turned to his Master, his eyes wide. “And then, we can talk about rearing Oskan blood eaters in the quarters - ”  The younger Jedi froze mid-sentence, cackling like a madman. “Master Dooku will love it!” he exclaimed, before falling back into bed.

Delusional indeed, thought Dooku. In moments such as these he harbored doubts that his Padawan was still ill at all; that the Jedi Master was on the end of a very elaborate joke.

Give him the benefit of the doubt, Yan. After all, were you not sitting in this very place a few days ago, fretting he wouldn’t recover at all?

Still, Dooku would have be vigilant against his student’s tendency to adopt strays after his recovery. Just in case.

But before the Jedi Master could put any more thought into the breeding habits of Oskan blood eaters (and the likelihood of it occurring in their quarters), the door to Qui-gon’s room opened, revealing a small, green figure holding a tray.

“Tea, my former Padawan?”

Dooku gave his former Master a small, polite smile.

“I shall take you up on that offer, Master Yoda.”

If nothing else, Dooku mused, Yoda’s presence would reveal if his student was truly in the throes of delirium, or at the very least curtail his tongue.

The diminutive Jedi Master grunted and tottered towards Dooku, floating a cup of tea into Dooku’s hands with the Force. Dooku raised his eyebrows at the unnecessary gesture, but decided that this wasn’t the place or time to start that argument again.

A voice sang from the other side of the room. “That’s inappropriate use of the Force, Master Yoda!”

Dooku nearly dropped his cup. 

“Not yet recovered, your student is?” Yoda asked, his voice betraying no surprise, no annoyance whatsoever.

Dooku stared into his own drink, hoping that somehow it might swallow him whole. “No,” he replied, not lifting his eyes from the brown liquid. “At least, that’s what the healers believe,” Dooku added after a beat.

“Hmm!” Yoda responded, casting his gaze over to the young man on the bed. He lifted his gimmer stick, pointing it in Qui-gon’s direction. “Not appropriate it is, to talk back to your Masters, hmm?”

Qui-gon turned on his side, his face still flushed with fever. “Not appropriate it is,” he retorted in a gross imitation of the small Jedi Master, his face scrunched as if the young man had consumed a freighter’s worth of lemons. 

Dooku took a large swallow of tea, burning his throat in the process. 

Yoda remained silent, putting his both clawed hands on his gimmer stick. He sighed and shook his head.

“Rest, you need, young Qui-gon.”

Qui-gon scowled and dropped back into the bed, his pillow billowing at the sides with the movement. 

Satisfied that the conversation was over, Yoda turned his back to the young man. 

“…moldy old scrotum.”

Tea sprayed out of Dooku’s mouth, droplets landing on the far wall, the curtains, the floor and - the Jedi Master’s eyes went as wide as his saucer - the head of his former Master. 

Force take me and my impertinent student!

“I sincerely apologize, Master. For both of us,” he stammered. “He has - not been himself. The poison has had a most deleterious effect on his common sense.” Dooku growled the last words while taking a cloth from his pocket, offering it to Yoda. Delirious or not, Qui-gon would be an old, wizened man before he was finished fulfilling the punishments Dooku was already imagining for his wayward student.

The troll took the cloth without word, patting the top of his head. The old troll stopped to consider the piece of fabric before the corner of his mouth perked upwards. 

“Most creative your Padawan is with insults, Master Dooku. Almost as creative as another young student I can remember.”

Dooku pulled at his collar.

Yoda hummed in amusement. “Oh yes. Most creative. Mmmmm.”

“Master Yoda, I - “

“Know, I did not, what a maggot-pie was. Nor how it could be both yeasty and mewling.” Yoda chuckled. “Very educational. Learn much about the ancient Serenno language, did I, that day.”

Dooku grit his teeth. “Yes, I’m sure you did,” he muttered, suddenly very anxious to leave the room. “I’m afraid I must be going, Master Yoda. I trust you will look after my very sick and addled student?”

The gimmer stick rocked back and forth in time with the old Jedi Master. “Oh yes, Master Dooku. Anxious am I, to learn more.”

Dooku opened his mouth but thought better of it. “Very well. Yes. Wonderful. Goodbye, then, Master Yoda,” Dooku muttered as he sprinted out the door.

Yoda hopped into a nearby chair and sighed. His people did not have the talent for insults that other species did. At least not insults in a language anyone else would be able to understand. The troll pulled a small notebook from an invisible pocket in his robes, slowly writing the words “moldy old scrotum” in angular script. Yoda laughed to himself, placing the object to the side. He now knew exactly what to call Master Windu if a disagreement arose during the next Council meeting.